paradisa | [010]; some gentler love

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elizabeth tudor

[010]; some gentler love

[ dictation; open; ]

[There is a very soft humming as Elizabeth flicks through the pages.]

It is Easter, and the air is getting warmer. It is such a grand metaphor the change of seasons, I think. So Christ is revived, so the earth is. I cannot wait for the flowers...

[She thinks herself very clever for that, and the humming starts up again.]

It so grand that I do think I will keep myself indoors today. My room is too small for my mind at the present. You're welcome to join me, and we can see if spring is sprung, nay?

[And she laughs, softly again, and so much earnestly than usual. It's not clipped with dark humour, or some sarcastic dry words hiding her amusement. It is almost giggling, for just how lighter her voice is. It doesn't completely stop either, even with the sound of rustling of material and heavy fabrics. ] -- I really ought to find some kind of lady to attend me of a morning, I swear these laces were not made for a woman alone. No wonder the servants think us strange to be dressed up like all this all the time. Though I don't think I could stand dressing so plainly...

[There's a thump and the sound of something rolling on the ground, Elizabeth curses, in something very much not English.] And there goes my ink pot, blast it all. [ s i g h ] Well, I think I shall go for my walk, if another would like to join me, I would be so happy for company, if the company be true.

[ filter to; Merlin, Galadriel, Morgana Pendragon, Zelos Wilder, Arya Stark, Catelyn Stark, Anne Boleyn, Lucrezia Borgia & any other friendly CR that wants in. ]

I could never be so rude as to not issue the invitation to you all personally in particular. After my walk I was thinking of going riding, or perhaps a picnic, if you'd like to join me so much -- it would please me very much.

[ filter; Anne Boleyn ]

My Lady Mother, I am very sorry, I was working on translating some poems from Italian into French for you as a present, but I am afraid my ink pot had other plans. It is still done, but I think I may have to start it again for the terrible ink stain now in the corner of the page.

[ action; open ]

[And for anyone looking for Elizabeth, she's just where she said she was: out in the gardens. The horse she'd taken from the stables tied to a tree and grazing nearby as she laid there in the pool of her long green skirts. Book in hand, utterly immersed in it as she laid on her side reading it. Alone and being immodest for it, her shoes had been kicked off, white stockings slowly getting ruined by the dirt where she curled her toes in the grass. The long red hair -- her long red hair, all of it -- laying out behind her completely unbound. Even for her talk of being dressed grandly, she is not as well dressed as her sister at the least. She is a bastard daughter, and not so bedecked in jewels as she would grow to be. But it is still brightly coloured brocades against the chill that might linger. Not that it bothers her much, her status or the weather.

Eventually she juts dozed off like that, the book over her eyes. and her cloak bunched up as a pillow under her head.]

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[ Wow, this is... What is this? An adorable attempt to get her attention and beg her forgiveness? It is adorable (even touching), but it still comes off as too brazen for Anne to reward. She feels it would only encourage Elizabeth if she even responds with a warning, so she instead ignores it.

She doesn't expect to find Elizabeth sprawled out in the garden looking like a lesser noble's daughter. Always liking to walk in the gardens as she would with Henry, and wanting to seize the first warm day she has felt since arriving, it was only natural for her to want to be outside until dusk. Perhaps, then, she shouldn't be surprised to find her daughter having the same idea. Even the book, she muses, squashing the swell of pride at seeing her daughter enjoy them so. But why is she dressed so plainly, and how is she able to sleep so soundly out here alone when she had just recently been kidnapped? The foolishness astounds her.

The very thought causes Anne to turn and look over her shoulder, absently wondering if Spike might be nearby somewhere watching. With all the color now replacing the snow, it could be easy for her to miss someone with talent. But then, he might just be failing at his job and is sleeping somewhere. So she lingers when she probably shouldn't, and turns her back.

Unwilling to risk leaving Elizabeth alone out in public while unconscious, though still not close enough to see her younger features or just how real that hair is, Anne eventually pulls out her journal, beginning to filter to Spike and Kalinda to ask them where they are. If she can't reach them immediately, she might try Micheletto, although Anne feels a bit uneasy letting someone like that alone with her daughter, and he's no doubt accompanying the Lady Borgia on a walk of her own at this hour. ]

[The sound of a particularly loud bird woke Elizabeth more than anything else. Even then she was groggy for a moment, rubbing at her eyes before she bothered to take notice of the world around her. Then picking up the book where it had fallen away. Brushing the grass off it and marking her page before setting it aside.

She only caught the darkness of her mother's hair out of the corner of her eye before she turned to look, her smile wide and happy to see her -- her mother so dear to her, such a joy to her life since they both arrived here. Realizing now just how she looked, not at all becoming for a daughter of a king, she tried to vainly smooth out her skirts, tugging her hair back to some semblance of neatness.

There, as close as presentable as she could be to her mother before she rose and went to Anne herself, keeping a respectful distance and then dropping to a curtsey before speaking.]

Your Majesty. [It never did to call her mother such until invited.] I hope I find you well this day?

[ She's caught before she can finish writing the filter, hearing the rustling of skirts and movement before she hears the voice, turning in time to see her curtsy.

Anne has to take a second look, then, journal promptly shutting and her eyes squinting a bit. She looks so much younger, and...that is not a wig. Maybe she should slap Elizabeth for attempting to show herself in Anne's presence, even if she was here first, but the other thoughts pounding in her head stop her from moving at all. ]

Elizabeth?

[She's not completely sure how to take the surprise tone that her mother has. She looks up, however shyly, from her curtsey, wondering what on earth it could be that has her sounding like that.]

Yes, mother?

[She's not sure if she should move yet, to embrace Anne, usually she did it without hesitation. She'd long outgrown Anne in height, but not in mind, and she took all her cues from her mother in that regard. To be half as bold in thought and deed, was all she wanted.] Is there something the matter?

[ She's too alarmed to speak, thrown by Elizabeth's apparent ignorance to this situation. Is she acting? She couldn't act looking that young, or...having real hair. The last time Anne saw her, it was so short. Fitting enough for a toddler but not a grown woman.

Realizing now that Elizabeth is actually waiting on her, she takes one slow step after the other until she's near enough for her skirts to brush close. It's on impulse that she reaches down to feel, threading her fingers through the bright red hair to comb out. It's real...

Her fingers then move down to the younger woman's chin, tipping her face up so she can have a real, proper look. ]

My daughter.

[Elizabeth smiled immediately when Anne came closer and ran her fingers through her hair, turning in a little to it, kissing the inside of Anne's palm.]

I am glad to see you well, I was worried when you did not reply this morning.

[But she looked back up expectantly at Anne, her smile still there.] Is there something I can help you with?

Edited (idk I hate my own writing I guess) 2013-04-01 05:45 (UTC)

[ Her hand quickly pulls away, as if burned, and she turns to pace away a bit in thought. Would Henry know how to handle this better? He loved their daughter, but he would not have stood for her behavior, either. Perhaps his punishment would have been even harsher.

Is this a chance? Could Anne even risk letting herself feel regret for banishing her own daughter? No, of course not. It isn't as if she threw her out onto the street, although you would hardly tell for how dirty Elizabeth's feet look now.

Lips quirking, she turns back around to face her daughter, choosing her words carefully. ]

You can explain to me why you were out here asleep without a guard at the ready. Given your recent capture, do you no longer think yourself at risk? You could have been taken again, and perhaps not even returned this time.

[Her eyes dropped, bewildered for a moment. She tried to race through it quickly, but her mother didn't know.]

I do not know what you mean, about the kidnapping? [She looked back up again, pleading earnestly as she had once before, when they had come after the issues with Seymour, and all the terrible things Seymour had tried to do.] I would go out with guards, but I have none here. The people here are kind and good to me, why should they hurt me?

[It's really quite confused her. Unless Anne is talking about...] I know Seymour tried to take Edward away, but he was the King, I am not so important as that. Seymour only wished to marry me. [and paid for such ideas dearly.]

[ Anne just looks more and more befuddled the longer Elizabeth talks. Somehow her marrying King Arthur made more sense then that mess. But hey, what is that, she is mentioning her brother... Immediately, Anne's hand goes to her belly, thinking on the pregnancy that became nothing because of this cursed place.

Right, she has already learned that somehow she and Henry are dead by now, even as young as Elizabeth is. It nearly chokes her up, just the thought of her own mortality and Henry's. And her son's, for Edward must be her son, even if he dies young, isn't that right? Her nails dig against her bodice, but her voice is level. ]

That is not what I was referencing...

[ How much has Elizabeth forgotten? How much does she remember? Anne can't tell. ]

But you must tell me more of Edward. What is he like?

[She pauses, because Edward isn't a topic that should be talked of to her mother.

But if her mother doesn't know he is not her son then... then there could be no harm, and as young as her brother was, she had loved him. Edward had always been good to her, in his own way.] Then what is it mother? For no one has ever hurt me in this place, they have only ever been kind. Not like court at all. [and she likes it for that, because there are no harsh words, no cruelty. No mocking either. She had Anne, and as close to family as she could muster. It is a simple happiness, but a happiness she liked all the same.]

He is the most beloved and golden prince of England. He is so well loved by his people, and he carries on the Protestant faith the goodliest of sons.

Edward and I used to compete to be the better at our studies, when we were raised together in the same palace. He used to write me letters to tell me how he was catching up to me with languages. He is so clever, he would of surpassed me in no time at all...

[Had the sickness not got him before that.]

[ Anne listens intently, taking a few steps forward and sinking down to sit on the grass by the end, a conflicted, dreamy look in her eyes. Her voice sounds distant, as she looks at Elizabeth though not quite directly. ]

My son...

[ Carrying on with the reformation. Smart, kind, and a loving brother. It's Anne's greatest dream, and yet? It was not the sickness.

Mary. Mary ruined everything. Perhaps she even had him poisoned, the witch. ]

It would have been a golden world.

It would of been.

[And try as she might, Elizabeth couldn't hide the hurt that came up at Anne looking so warm at the thought of a son. She could not help it, it always stung, to hear it over and over again. True Anne didn't know the full extent of what was to happen.

But Elizabeth's eyes dropped, once again feeling that pang of being separated from any true affection, and she had to know, truly know this.]

Do you... do you very much hate me for not being a son?

[ Anne is startled out of her reverie by Elizabeth's absurd question (it is absurd, even if she asked holding the memory of banishment). She quickly looks back to her daughter's face, brow crinkling in pained surprise. ]

What could make you think such a thing? What have I done to make you question my affection for you?

[ She holds out a hand, beckoning for Elizabeth to come sit with her. ]

I treasure you more than I do my own life, ma petite fleur. Your happiness, your security, is something I desire and fight for with a ferocity that I would dare any other mother to match.

[The relief on her face was evident, her smile coming back. True Anne knew no better, but it bettered Elizabeth's heart to hear such.

Which so happily, she moved closer. Side by side to her mother, a woman that had dominated so much of her life, though before now Elizabeth could hardly even recall her voice.

So she would cherish every single word that she had now.]

Nothing at all, mama. [and the endearment is so shyly said.] I only ever wish to be something you will be proud of. I worry that I will never be so.

[ Keeping hold of her hand when she sits, Anne runs her nails along each fingertip and the back of her hand, before turning is so that she can trace the lines of her palm. Similar... ]

Why do you worry for this, Elizabeth? Mary's treachery is an affront to her own father and the crown. To your legitimacy. These are her crimes, not yours.

[If there was ever a time to be honest, it was now, when Anne was being so kind.]

Because I am a girl, and I know you both so wanted a son. That is no crime of Mary's. [But she didn't see why she should be treated as less simply because she was a girl.] I want to be as great as Father wa-- is, as great as you are.

[ Anne thinks it is a crime of Mary's. Rather, a crime against God than her alone. Why couldn't Henry have just had Mary killed like she asked? Why did he have to be so fond of her? ]

My sweet, you are already great. And you will be greater, enough for all of England to worship. Do you think I accomplish less for being a woman? Your father respects my opinions more than he does any other man.

[she frowned, and it's so hard to say out loud. But her mother would listen, her mother would understand.]

No I don't... I do not think that. I only wish... [she bit her lip, struggling for the words in a way that did not seem unnatural for a woman to say.

In the end, there were none.]

I wish to be as great as a Prince. I wish to be a Prince, not a Princess. I do not see why I should not be... not be next in line. [Because what made men so much better to rule than women?]

[ It's hard for her to really define her feelings regarding this conversations. Anne things it would be a very interesting world where women could rule without fear, by the same law as any man. But she knows better, she knows England isn't ready for that level of mentality. And look what becomes of thinking this much this soon...

This is the very reason she had to banish her. Would it have to taint this time, too? ]

But you are not a prince.

[ Her nails dig into Elizabeth's palm for a moment, but she eases up and lifts her daughter's hand to kiss it only moments later. ]

Would that we lived in a world where that were possible. But right now securing England's line of succession is the most important matter. You would need a husband to bear a son, to continue the dynasty, as I will.

[ The claim feels empty, thinking of him dying young and Mary seizing power in the end, anyway. ]

These thoughts are too heavy for a day like this.

[Elizabeth looked in surprise at her mother, her fingers stretching in her grip, where it dug in and stung so briefly. It was a miserable attempt to hide the hurt on her face. No brief physical pain matched how harsh it was to hear that, not from her own mother at the least.]

But I do not want to be married.

[It's so hard to say, she knows it is not appreciated to be said. That no one would ever understand her revulsion for the married state.

So silence fell emptily, and the day no longer seemed so bright. Tarnished, like old silver. Elizabeth took her hand back, hardly acknowledging the kiss, letting it sit in her lap and look out over the garden.]

[ At first she feels anger again at Elizabeth's defiance, once again near slapping her just to get some sense into that head. Doesn't she understand why it has to be this way? Doesn't she understand that her entire way of life is threatened by Elizabeth not marrying, that she is damned if she cannot produce a proper male heir? What does feminism matter if she is burned for it? She does not know if she could have the strength to be a martyr, especially knowing what might happen to her daughter. She would be treated worse than Mary.

And of course she shouldn't expect Elizabeth to understand all of that in her mother's mind, even with what she's experienced. Adult or child, princess or queen, Elizabeth is her daughter, and Anne still can't think to burden her with such news. She only wishes her to be young and care-free. To count fish in a pond and play damsel in distress with her father. ]

Elizabeth, you will look at me.

[ She leans over, hands resting against the grass, her expression as earnest as she dare allow. ]

I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul; with every breath I think of you and worry for you. All I have done, I have done for your future.

If Europe was not in such a state of turmoil, if England was ready, I should think you the grandest, most generous monarch that ever graced the English throne. It is not you I doubt, it is never you, for you are too intelligent and graceful for me to ever lack faith in your abilities. But everyone, everyone would fight to bring you down, and that thought brings me nothing but nightmares. Even more-so, to think of you alone and without the love and respect of a companion... Why would you deny yourself everything I have fought for?

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[010]; some gentler love

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