paradisa | ♔ un || christmas eve

Entry tags:

!intro,
anne boleyn

♔ un || christmas eve

[ Written most elegantly; ]

My Dearest and Most Beloved Elizabeth,

I bring you the most blessed of tidings. Can you guess? I will let you take a few moments to make use of your wit and figure it out while I continue on. (Come now, surely it would be obvious to you!)

Your father, the King, is doing quite well. He is of good cheer and fine health, God bless His Majesty. He asks after you, and I promised I would send word of his love and ever present concern for you, my sweet rose.

And speaking of such, while we were in the gardens just recently, I discovered the most beautiful of roses. Though the King insisted I not touch it for the thorns it bore, I daresay I had it cut anyhow! And wouldn't you know, the thorns harmed me not. It reminded me of you, and so I had it pressed as I read of once in a book. It is my sincerest wish that you look upon it and know of my eternal love and devotion to you.

Oh, I cannot keep silent on the matter any longer! Have you guessed yet? No? Well then, I will tell you, but only because such tidings should be shared. You will soon have a little—

[ The writing is drawn to a sudden halt, interrupted by the sound of a woman's soft sigh, and then the clattering of odds and ends being dragged off the table by said woman as she slides to the frozen floor with a thump. ]

[ ooc; Any journal comments will be responded to after Anne's been awoken by Elizabeth and had the 411 dished out! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well first things first, she had to make sure because it meant the world of difference to how this was handled. One would be a simple matter of explaining... and the other? The other would be much, much more.]

I am... Elizabeth. [that would do for now.] Do I have the honour of addressing Her Majesty Anne Boleyn?

Edited 2012-12-24 08:33 (UTC)

[ The name rings familiar to Anne, but it's just a name, so she doesn't pay much heed to it on it's own. The red hair is very noteworthy, though, as is the woman's manner of dress. It's not even remotely close to that of a commoner's.

Releasing the older woman's hand, Anne reaches up to gently touch the side of her head where it feels sore. At least there's no blood, but she feels mildly dizzy.

Trying to ponder too much at once, perhaps, she murmurs distantly as she tries to get another look around the room. It looks the same as her chambers should, only frozen over. ]

You do, Elizabeth. Did you know I was just writing a letter to my daughter of the same name? She would have your hair when she grows older.

[Elizabeth still, settling back. It was for it's own reasons though. She has no idea what to say. How to deal with this. Her mind is as churning as a sea in the storms of winter, worse perhaps than the storms that destroyed Spain's ships.

But over all this, there is one thing that remains in her mind -- ] You are so beautiful, madam. [She blurts it out, not thinking it through completely. No wonder her father had done what he had. Elizabeth could never remember seeing anyone such as her. Or perhaps that was shock, but after imagining for so much of her life... this was better than anything she could conjure.

However right now that wouldn't do, so Elizabeth swallowed down, biting the inside of her lip, hard enough to clear her mind.] Indeed you were, my lady... and so your daughter received it.

For I am she. [and she blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging harshly for a moment.] I am the one you called rose, though little no longer. I'm... your Elizabeth.... [but to more important matters.] and this? This is not England.

[ She doesn't look very shocked at being called beautiful by a stranger, especially someone who knows her as Queen, instead beginning to form a smile.

It stops midway, the rest of the news bordering on either impudence or insanity. Brow furrowing just a touch, Anne's head tilts as she eyes this woman quizzically.

She can't even form proper thoughts on the matter. She really can't. And so, she laughs. It's abrupt, and she nearly goes to cover her mouth with the tips of her fingers, but instead she reaches for the other woman's face to touch just beneath her chin, as if straining to get a better look at her.

And she laughs again, as gay and light as a Christmas bell's jingle. What else could she expect in a dream? And why should she fret, or doubt? ]

Pray tell, then, where are we?

[There isn't laughter on her face, only a concerned frown. She remembers well her own reaction. It was difficult to tell at first. She refused to believe it just as much.]

... A castle, by the name of Paradisa. It is of no court, indeed there is no lord in attendance and occasionally fey come to hold court. But beyond that...

[she sighs.] I know you do not believe me, for it is hard to accept but... it is truth.

A faery court, is it? No doubt that is why it looks something out of a tale.

And yet you look so somber. Is it because of the chill?

[ Anne herself is cold, a small headache pressing inside her crown, but she ignores all this because it doesn't matter in a dream

Standing, doing her best not to wobble or slip, she tugs Elizabeth to follow. ]

Then let us make this court our own, and breathe the life of Spring back into it.

[She knows she needs to shatter this, to make her see reality. But her mother looked so much more happy. She deserved happiness, of anyone her mother deserved a long and happy life.

But at the tug, Elizabeth rises up. Half as tall as her father, oddly taller than her mother too. How strange.]

It is Christmas, madam. In fact it is... Christmas Eve. [... and if this was the castles idea of a present...]

[ The height isn't lost on Anne any more than the age, but such things seem of little importance in a land of dreams. Perhaps this is how she imagines Elizabeth when she is grown.

There are some things that she shouldn't have thought up. The way her red hair is styled, for one. But if Anne could predict everything in her dreams, they would much less interesting. ]

Truly? Why, Paradisa takes its Christmas very seriously indeed!

[ The decorations covering the hall that she steps out into does in fact back up Elizabeth's statement, if winter's icy touch hadn't made it obvious enough.

Anne catches her reflection in the ice, and she finds herself leaning over as if expecting to see something else. If Henry is here, will he look an old man to even out Elizabeth, or young like herself? ]

But this is no true Christmas Eve if we do not spend it as a family. Where is your father?

[This all felt dream like, but perhaps that was just Anne, perhaps it was just Elizabeth's fervent desire for this all to be that simple. For it just to be as easy as a christmas festivities. Maybe she was the one dreaming this time.

Maybe it was as those nightmares were. Perhaps she would have this too shattered like every other dream before it. There was no telling how this would pan out.

But if it was a trick -- God, any God, from pagan to Lucifer -- please let it never end.

Holding that to her heart, pressing it into her bones, she was determined to enjoy whatever this trick was until it the last stuttered breath. So there is a weak smile, to keep this fantasy going as long as was possible.]

That it does, madam. Perhaps later, we could liven it? By all accounts you threw-- throw the best gatherings.

[The question made her pause, more than that, she flinched at it. Her father. Hr father. Christ persevere her no. She loved him as much as she loved her father. Her head dropped for a moment as she let Anne admire herself, steeling the one thought in her mind back.] His Majesty has not... graced us with his presence, at least not to my knowledge.

[How could her father behead this woman? How could he? She wanted to weep bitterly for it all over again.]

Nor my brother, or my father, then?

[ Her smile falls at the news, though she shouldn't be surprised. Henry and the others aren't in all of her dreams! Just quite a few. ]

It saddens me that he is not with us this eve, but that does explain why these halls are not alight with the sounds of music and laughter.

It is your father who throws the most memorable of events, sweet Elizabeth. Last I saw, you were too young to appreciate, but I'm certain you must remember.

[ A glance up, and the corners of her mouth perk upward again as she once again takes the older woman's hand to clasp in both of hers, reaching to hold it near her mouth where she can breathe hotly against the chill clinging to her skin. ]

But there, see? The breath of life is all we need to melt the ice and make way for joy. I wish to celebrate, and celebrate we will!

Come.

[ Taking that hand, Anne turns to walk down the hall as if she knows her way around. She most certainly doesn't, but no doubt stairs downward will lead them to where they need to go. ]

We must have matching gowns made. Perhaps it is too soon to arrange a proper Christmas feast, but let us plan something for the New Year, hm? We must represent your father with zealous pride!

No, your majesty, there is none of our families. Only myself for many months and now you.

[She laughed, if only to keep the merriment going, but mostly it was to hide the unease. Her mother was guileless in her merriment after all. So Elizabeth took her hand, smiling wider at the gesture.

So satisfied at how real Anne's hand felt against hers. Real, real, real. Her mind sung the word as if it were scripture.]

We shall, though I have yet to find tailors who make fitting gowns. [she nodded her head, agreement, there weren't enough parties.] What were you thinking, my lady? For surely father would never let an occasion go uncelebrated.

Now that you are old enough to understand and plan an event yourself, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.

[ Carefully walking down the steps, ~clip clip clip~ against the frosted stone, half using her grip to guide Elizabeth, while also using her for balance. ]

I will make this party your Christmas present, after all! It must carry all your desires. And we will find a tailor to match our majesty, by God's grace.

[She does keep her steady, she'd thankfully been wearing her riding boots before she ran off looking for her mother.]

I should hope we do... [she thought for a longer moment, and she figures she may as well, start easing her mother into some of the truth, that many years have passed, and that all is not quite... well.]

... For the anniversary of my coronation, we had a small gathering here, along with King Arthur, as we share the same date for it. Not so grand as course, but people here are not the King's subjects after all. Perhaps we could have another such a gathering.

Your coronation? You were wed to a king?

[ Damn, done raised her daughter right! Also good job, Henry.

Clearly getting the wrong idea on this, who cares? ]

Tell me of this Arthur. He is here? I would meet him.

[She hasn't realized the idea that Anne is getting at all, but nor does she want her mother to know any of the truth yet.

-- and hearing her daughter never married as was expected wasn't really needed as of the moment.]

I... married for the good of England. It's people I love and serve. [she clears her throat, leaving it there.] Arthur is also a King of England, and a great man as well. I think you shall like him. All that a king should be in action and words.

[ This confuses her, and one hand slides down to rest over her belly. It's flat now, of course, but soon... ]

King of England? How do you mean? What of your brother?

[ Because nothing can convince Anne that she's not going to have a boy when she wakes up, okay? ~~Well not right when she wakes up, that sure would be magic.~~ But maybe she's starting to take this dream too literally. It doesn't have to make sense...

But she would very much like it to. ]

[Elizabeth can't help but follow that hand, before looking immediately away. She would never be that beloved child. All these years later, some part of that still hurt.

But the question is easy to brush away.]

... No Arthur is not of our time. It is the riddle of this place, we are all from different times, different places. He is the King of legend, my lady, whom I met here...

[This still wasn't making much sense either but she was being deliberately vague and she's still twisting her words, and as gentle and reassuring as any courtier she continues.]

My brother rules happily for many years.

[Just not Anne's child.]

[ For many years? And then what? Does he die? What good does it do for Elizabeth to marry a King of England here, and not actually rule in England?

No, none of this is making any sense, but the utter insanity of it actually helps Anne relax. Nothing like this could be real, especially not King bloody Arthur.

So she giggles, half nerves and half amusement as they reach the bottom steps and she turns back to this woman who is now too tall for Anne to carry. ]

So that is why you are older than I? And you have married the legendary King Arthur Pendragon? In that case, I suppose I could not be happier! It is such a shame that Henry is not here to meet him, I'm certain he would be just as delighted.

[ And maybe furious that his daughter married without his blessing but whatever. Anne would be pissed about that too if this was actually real, but it's not, so... ]

I will meet him at this feast, then. It will be the greatest banquet! With jousting in the day and dancing in the eve. Oh, I can hardly wait. What song shall I sing? I must sing something.

[WAIT --

-- No, oh no Arthur would never forgive her this. He'd never let this go if her mother said anything to him. At the worst he'd be furious for dragging her into this spun lie of hers, at best he'd just hold it over her head for all the times she'd tricked him.

Elizabeth opened to mouth to hastily correct her mother. But then she laughed, and once Elizabeth found herself unable to destroy this spun sugar fiction she'd so accidentally created.]

He would be pleased to find his daughter married off to such glory, I hope. Is that not what all father's wish for their daughters?

[... She thinks in the end, he'd be even more furious with her not producing an heir.]

Perhaps you will. Though not many joust any longer, your grace, but there are dance partners to be had, on occasion. [Her mother singing? She's not sure which one of them is dreaming anymore.] What did you used to sing to me?

[ It hasn't quite occurred to her yet to ask after an heir, but no doubt she'll think of it in time. Probably at the most inconvenient time!

Anne shoots Elizabeth a quizzical look. ]

Do you not remember? You so very much loved O Rosa Bella. You know my favorite was D'où Vient Cela, Belle, but your father insisted it was too tragic of a song for such a tiny girl.

[ Really they're both kind of tragic songs, but the most popular ones always were! She starts to hum it, a soothing, sad melody. ]

[ Only to abruptly stop and grab Elizabeth's arm, grip tight and her tone hard and suspicious. ]

How do you not remember?

[The song was familiar in that distant way songs were. She couldn't put it to a time and place at least.

Thinking on that she was expecting the way her mother suddenly turned back to her.]

... It has been a very long time, madam. I am near enough to fifty now. Much has happened, and those days are no longer as clear as they once were to me.

[It's more than she's admitted to anyone in a very long time. That she's old, she's tired, and seeing her mother's youthful face and high sweet laughter is such a reminder of her younger days at court. She could spare her mother that truth when she'd told so many lies in the past minutes.]

I am sorry you should not have me the daughter you once remembered, as sorry as I am not to remember my own mother's sweet songs that she sung to me. But... I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for it.

[It did show, for so brief a moment, she was under all of it, even here, so bone weary, and exhausted by her life. One year of ruling seemed a whole life time, and they just seemed to go on and on and on without end or measure to days or months or seasons.]

[ Anne's grip on the other's arm loosens little by little, before eventually sliding back down to take her hand once more. Her narrowed eyes widen just a touch, and her rigid lips soften into a tease of a smile.

If this is a dream, she can't take it too seriously. None of this can actually be true, of course, this seeing into the future where she and Henry are both probably dead and her daughter bears the highest of burdens and glories. And to this Elizabeth, so much seems painful or tense. There is regret there, and Anne doesn't want an incarnation of her daughter knowing that heartache any more than she would want her real daughter to.

And if this is her mind's creation, then it is her heartache too. So with a shake of her hand, she steps closer and presses Elizabeth's hand to the center of her chest, holding it there. ]

There is nothing to feel sorrow over. No matter your age or title, I will always look upon you and see my little princess, my petite rose, and there is nothing in all of the worlds, in all of time, that could ever change such a bond.

If my sole purpose here is to remind you of that, then I will undertake such a role with utmost fervor. My love for you is such that, were your father to truly look upon it and see, even he might know envy.

[Elizabeth sighed in a slight relief when her mother became less suspicious. For a moment she tries to smile back, to give the feeling of easiness and joy her mother simply seems to exude as easy as drawing breaths, but her words weren't a lie. It had been a long time since she smiled, laughed, took joy as earnestly as others did.

It never felt so grating in its absence as now, as to look at a woman who truly thought the world was at her feet.]

I'm... [It was so hard, to have her living and breathing, saying these things. To speak of a love Elizabeth would never be sure of. It was both freeing and damning, everything was mismatched edges that did not fit.] There is, there is so much I feel sorrow for...

[She pressed her lips together, glancing down as she blinked her vision clear once more. Committing every word to memory and to etch it some where deeply that she could not forget it.] But I would suffer it again, and a thousand times gladly if it means to have this. [the words freeze on her mouth, she's never said it to another person and never dreamed of ever being able to address this woman.] I would face down every war, every parliament a hundred times again. [It might be too much, but she wants to weep, and tall as she is, she steps forward and pressed a kiss to her mother's forehead.] Mother. I've missed you.

[I've missed all that we never had, and never were.]

♔ un || christmas eve

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