♔ cinq || a queen of england will be burned

[ensorceler]

[Micheletto]

You will say nothing.

[/Micheletto]

[Morgana]

My lady.

[/Morgana]

[Sherlock Holmes]

The gospels preach forgiveness, and I would hold it out to you with my own hand. I so rarely offer a third chance, but scholars are much needed in any court. I know wit when I hear it.

If you offer your allegiance, not to England but to your temporary home and territory, then you will be gently handled and well paid for your sharp mind and sharper insights.

[/Sherlock Holmes]

[Spike Spiegel]

Do you, sir, desire for another attempt to win my favor and affections?

[/Spike Spiegel]

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Anne Boleyn

[scinlae]

You needn't, they are not troubled. I am awake nights more oft than not.

[ Her nightmares, be they prophetic or otherwise, are a weakness that can be exploited if the wrong people knew of them. She will keep them close to her chest, hugged so tight that none will ever see unless she bids them. ]

Morgana

[ensorceler]

Then it is in the night we will talk amongst ourselves about worries and desires that need not fill the heads of the innocents sleeping soundly in their beds. Will you come to my chambers?

[ Anne would normally just command it (politely), but even in her current devil may care attitude, she understand enough of fear to respect Morgana's ownership of magic. Merlin had stricken that fear in her, it didn't matter which was which, and that is precisely why she goes to this woman instead of him. ]

Anne Boleyn

[scinlae]

[ Though Anne does not know it, she looks to her side, to the sleeping knight in her bed. ]

Of course.

[ensorceler]

[ She shuts her journal soundly and stands to prepare herself for an audience. Elizabeth's words, so very many of them, echo in her head as she readies her sitting room and smooths her skirt, having had the room arranged like an audience chamber not so different from the one in Hampton Court; though it has been decorated to a much warmer and comfortable level — that feminine touch now unrestrained by a king, perhaps.

Though it is the middle of the night, she has not changed garb, still wearing her blood red velvet dress with even the ruby centered jewelry still shamelessly adorning her ears and neck, a gold tiara nestled around the coiled braid centered atop her head.

She waits, even if it is important to make it appear as if she has not been. Appearance always matters. ]

[scinlae]

[ Indeed it is, which is exactly why Morgana chooses to remain in her night clothes. White instead of the black Anne last saw her in, the irony is not lost on her. Nevertheless both dressing gown and the gown itself are intricate enough to pass as proper dress.

Which makes her leaving easy once she escapes her bed and does her hair up in a simple braid that hands over her right shoulder. For a moment she thinks to wake him, her precious knight, only to decide against it and slip out like a ghost.

Her arrival is prompt, not that there was time put upon it, and she knocks on the door twice. Loud enough to be heard but soft enough that it does not stir the others in the hall. The door irritates her, she thinks she should simply let herself in but that is not the way to deal with queens. Or at the very least, it is not the way to deal with this queen. So she waits. ]

[ensorceler]

[ As soon as the knock is heard, Anne steps up to take her seat in the most intricate chair in the room; acting throne. Though it is a regal position, Anne keeps her expression amiable for who is on the other side of the door. She is no stranger to hiding her true feelings.

It is irritating that she does not have an usher to announce those seeking an audience. ]

Enter.

[scinlae]

[ She does without hesitation, slipping inside the room as effortlessly as she exited her own. The door barely even clicks closed as she closes it. Long ago did she perfect the art of entering and exiting rooms soundlessly.

Before her eyes fall on Anne they inspect the room, lips curving slight in approval. It is a lovely room. ]

You look radiant this evening.

[ensorceler]

[ Anne appreciates the subtlety, though she struggles to suppress her indignation at the sorceress not immediately curtsying or bowing. But what can she really say to someone who could probably silence her with a wave of her hand?

It's a precarious balance, this charade of power. But it is not too incredibly stressful, or she would not have invited the woman in the first place. The smallest bit of a sincere smile peeks out as she leans forward to hold out her right hand with a delicate flick of her fingers in invitation. ]

And you, most luminous lady, look as if you just stepped out of a painting. I would gaze upon your beauty closer still.

[ Though flattery is rampant in court, Anne is not exaggerating much. Morgana has an ethereal beauty to her, though not enough to insight Anne's envy. Perhaps it is the magic that creates such an effect, but she appreciates it more like a work of art than anything. ]

[scinlae]

[ She remembers the ways of court, she remembers the flattery often bestowed upon her. She remembers the men who possessed more skill with their swords than they did with their words and she smiles.

For her words Morgana gives her a bow of the head, it is all she is willing to give. She was once Queen, no one will make her bend knee.

(her blood runs red with Pendragon colors, as much as she loathes it, she is royalty in her own right)]

You flatter me greatly. I shall allow Your Majesty to gaze as long as she wishes.

[ She almost glides across the floor to her seat, seating herself gracefully before she tilts her head. Regarding Anne with sharp green eyes. ]

[ensorceler]

[ The bow of the head is enough, and when Morgana sits in the chair next to her (there must always be an adjoining throne ready for her daughter when they are in good relations, and her husband should he ever show), Anne reaches out to place one hand over the younger woman's, offering it a light but affectionate squeeze. Her other drifts to just beneath Morgana's chin, tilting just enough so that the queen can lean over for a chaste kiss on the lips in proper greeting. It is a gift, an honor, a blessing, even for a friend, whether the other woman appreciates it or not. ]

I must admit I am gladdened by your hasty response, Lady Morgana. Sometimes I find the nights too long to bear, even with so much to do and somehow never enough time. My thoughts, they are too loud, and not as organized as I would often wish.

[scinlae]

[ The greeting stills her for a moment, though it is only brief, before a smile finds her lips. She knows what it is certainly, she understands the meaning hidden in the silence and lines of her mouth. What stilled her is the reason behind it, she wonders what gears are turning in the queen's head. ]

A feeling I often share, Your Majesty.

[ She turns her hand to return the affectionate squeeze. ]

Without friendly ear to voice them to, silence becomes quite painful.

[ensorceler]

[ She's nothing if not polite. ]

Often? What pains do you need to voice, my lady?

[scinlae]

They are of little import. [ For they are hers and hers alone. Anne has yet to be deemed "friendly". ]

I am here to speak of your pains, not my own. [ A beat. ] Am I not?

[ensorceler]

I would say yes and no.

[ Pulling back, she reaches to the silver tray on the small table rested next to her, pouring wine into two silver and gold rimmed goblets before handing one over to Morgana. ]

I wish not only to talk of pains, but of opportunities and...remedies. Why dwell?

[scinlae]

[ She accepts the goblet with a smile and a short incline on her head, piercing green eyes focused solely on the other woman as she brings the wine to her mouth. ]

Opportunities and remedies. [ That has her curious. ]

Tell me of them. [ She makes sure not to sound as if she is demanding, but requesting as humbly as possible. ] I want nothing more than to dwell on them instead of pains.

[ensorceler]

First I have a question for you.

You know of betrayal; of loss. If you could create a world where none but you remembered the destruction, and all were at peace and full of love, then could you forgive?

[scinlae]

[ She stares at Anne in silent, the question spinning around her head. ]

Tell me this first before I give my answer: Would I remember the truth? Would I remember the betrayals and loss endured?

[ensorceler]

Yes, lest you fall to the same fate as before from lessons unlearned.

[scinlae]

Then no, I would not. For I would know it is a falsehood, it would give me no satisfaction. I would not be able to forgive.

[ensorceler]

[ She turns her head away, though looking at nothing really. ]

...Even then, might you choose to live in that world over your own?

[scinlae]

[ She sighs. ]

I do not know. [ A beat. ] Would you?

[ensorceler]

I suppose it is the question of the hour. I find myself in a quandary. I wish to be merry, as much as you, but when my thoughts cannot be pulled away from such heartache, my smile falls short.

[scinlae]

That is quite a quandary. [ One she knows quite intimately. ] Heartache is a poison to smiles, to merriness. Would that I knew the cure for it, I would cure you without hesitation.

[ensorceler]

Perhaps you do. Your knowledge of magic must be vast.

[scinlae]

It is. [ But she cannot say for certain if there is a way to cure heartache. ]

What is it you want me to do, Your Majesty?