paradisa | ♔ 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

[ 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.]

[ It's a heavy declaration, full of unspoken secrets and pains that leaves Anne curious, and almost fearful. She touches Elizabeth's cheek just as she leans in to kiss her forehead, and Anne's eyes slip shut at the gesture.

She has also missed her daughter, though it has only been a few weeks. What is that to forty years? Could she bear such a parting herself? No. ]

No.

[ She strokes her daughter's cheek again, seeing the little girl so easily even as she has to look up, and smiles. The smile has lost some of the glee, some of the airy mischief. Instead there is a fire that's been fanned, making her tone fierce and her eyes sharp, but not at her daughter. ]

No, you will suffer no sorrows. You will forget such things, because I would never let you feel the type of pain you speak. Truly, to hear such grief-stricken claims come out of your mouth is unfathomable to me, and I am more sure than ever now that I am here to erase such thoughts from your mind. Any foe who dares compromise your beautiful soul will quickly find his head sheared from his body, but only after he has suffered a thousand deaths before.

You will not miss me, and I will not miss you. We are together, and that is how it will ever be. None shall compromise.

[She stood there in her mother's embrace. Another thing she never thought she would have to remember clearly.

Even when as she looked at her mother, she knew it would never be so simple as Anne had said. Elizabeth was too old for that kind of optimism, time could never be undone. Her mother was young and not yet tainted by that which was to come.]

That would be my hope. [But perhaps it would be enough for her mother's brightness carry her where she was sure she could not go by herself. It was not easily done anymore. Even with the mighty freedom she bore, days no longer seemed as they were.

Though what they were was a hazy, foggy memory. Because no matter which memory, there was always that taint of her mother's death. In the way Mary was never quite as close as she could be, in the way she'd compete with Edward for her studies.

In the way that forty years later they still called her daughter of a whore.]

None, nothing shall ruin this. [but to more important matters.] Nor waking, for this is not a dream, mother. We are in a castle called Paradisa, and it is not a kind place, though it brings me the happiness of your company once more. You cannot leave until it decides you are to go.

[ Everything she says it the very nature of a dream, isn't it? You don't decide when you awaken, and what good is it to try to convince a dream what it is? As much use as it is trying to convince her that she is not dreaming.

Eager to move on from such unnecessary claims, Anne just nods and continues on, shoes clipping against the floor as she searches about to see what's what. Some of the décor is familiar, but other seems obscene and strange to her. ]

Tell me more of this unkind place. If it is an enemy, should I not know it inside and out?

... There is little enough to know, but much to be wary of. It acts without warning, and the things it can do... it lets people inside your mind, charges your nature, your memories. Not everyone and not always. Many weeks can pass without event.

[she sighed, even if her mother did not agree with her, she would need it later, when she realized this was no dream or imagining she could control.]

I cannot say very much as happened to me, and for that I am thankful. I hope you are spared it, because it can be cruel and unforgiving.

♔ un || christmas eve

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;