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! ]

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[For Christmas, in this place, Elizabeth had never expected much. For it may be a castle, but it was not court. It was not the same and all that it was... she was just as everyone else. There was little to be expected save perhaps a gift or too.

Of all the things she could of imagine, of all the things she thought possible...

... By God, she never expected this. She never knew her mother's voice. Knew only the shred of her laughter, and that, that was when she was a child, closed her eyes in dark and tried to think back beyond even Lady Seymour. It was vague, but it was the best she could manage as she mouthed her mother's name like somehow it would breath life into the woman herself.

But it never changed anything, and so many years on, she'd given up hope of such things. That was not her lot in life, she knew that now. Perhaps she could make do, but that kind of family, that kind of warmth was lost to her.

Save now. True there could be a hundred others of the name Elizabeth, and hundred other men bearing the title Majesty. But it seemed too much. For roses were her families, and roses were Tudors, and only a child of a Tudor would be called that. Or so she hoped, wished, desperately prayed that this was true. Had her mother always called her that? Her little rose. But now one bloomed. Would her own mother even recognize her now? Once a child, but now a woman grown, and colder than all that. Not that it mattered -- she had so much to say to her mother, for good or for ill. The foreboding feeling could be ignored.

Not that Elizabeth waited to think this all through, impulsive perhaps -- but it was never easy to find someone in the place and she wanted to waist no time. So she burst into every room, looked at every name until eventually found the woman that spoke of Roses and Kings. Hardly even breathing for it.

Ever so cautiously, she approached the unconscious woman, long skirts rustling on the floor, and dropping to her side. Hands gently going to her shoulders, Elizabeth attempted to wake her.]

My lady? My lady please...

[If it wasn't her mother and she'd been... mistaken in some way, well, at least whoever this was wouldn't wake up in this cruel place alone.]

Edited 2012-12-24 07:56 (UTC)

[ When Anne does awaken, it's strange to do so shivering, since it should be warm. On impulse, she reaches down to grab for her blanket, only to find a flourish of her own skirt mingled with someone else's. Oh, this is not a bed. This is hard...ice?

And that's not the voice of one of her ladies, but of a stranger. That has her eyes open even quicker than the cold does, but her movements are sluggish as she reaches up to take a hand while sitting up.

Vision somewhat blurry, Anne blinks rapidly so that the stranger and her surroundings can come into focus. She must be dreaming. ]

Who goes there?

[Charming notices the writing and pauses, then becomes startled when he hears the thump.]

Are you all right?

[Waits a second, going back over the letter and looking for a name. Well, she must be a queen somewhere.]

Your highness?!

[And when he receives no response, he bolts out of his room and sprints about the castle and the castle grounds like the dashing hero he is, trying to find the damsel in distress. He'll just be sprinting around until she answers him back lol]

[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.

[ He may be running around for awhile, then, because wow she sure is ignoring the magic book at first. Until she knows a little about what's what, anyway!

Okay, so she may be waiting even longer out of a bit of amusement, because...she can hear him running. He could be running all day and she would still jest, ]

You sound out of breath, good sir. Are you not getting your daily exercise?

[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.]

[Normally, Galadriel wouldn't comment on what was obviously meant to be a private communication (or a note to someone not here), but that thump was certainly alarming. She wants to seek her out immediately, but how does one find a single unknown person in a castle this size? So she has to settle for commenting for the moment.]

My lady? My lady, are you well?

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!

[ Again later, as she finds herself addressing the prince practicing a marathon. ]

Elizabeth? We only just spoke, my dear. I promise I am fine to explore on my own.

[What? Oh. This confusion again.]

I fear you have mistaken me for another, my lady. I know the resemblance is quite startling, in both face and voice, but I am not Elizabeth. But I am gladdened to hear you are well.

[ Darn these dreams being oh so confusing! ]

It seems I am surrounded by incarnations of my little Elizabeth, only little no longer! What am I to do with this news, and what am I to call you?

I am Galadriel, Lady of Lothlórien and the Galadhrim. The rest you must answer for yourself; I would not presume to tell you what to do.

[ Gibberish! All of it. ]

You would not, Lady Galadriel? Though I bid your counsel? Ought I to be insulted?

[Oh, you young people...]

I hope you would take no insult, for that was not my intention. Counsel may be a perilous thing, even from the wise to the wise. And I do not yet know you well enough to speak wisely on the matter.

[ So diplomatic! She can appreciate it. ]

Then we would remedy that dilemma. You must come to our celebration of the New Year.

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.

[Thousands of years of practice!]

I would be well pleased to attend, but might I ask the name of my gracious host?

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♔ un || christmas eve

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