• fear not - blog is under construction. we’re cleaning this baby up!

• closed starter | enzo & siya ( @pr0mis )

Was Lorenzo a jealous man? No, he was not. The Italian royal, the future of his house, was unbothered by it usually. The love his siblings were provided, the attention each one got, and in entirely different realms of being, dynamics beyond his own blood relations he was thoroughly secure in himself, knowing he was a paragon amongst men. However, there was one person that could send him spiraling and color him positively green with envy or the attention that was paid to her from other suitors and people. Perhaps this was a failing in himself to let her opinion matter this much, to rely upon it to make him feel valued and even loved they way most people wished to be loved. Was it real? He found that question eating away at him on the road. He had eyes. His own personal advisor traveled in a separate carriage as she was not family. Still, she wore jewels given by other men, entertained others’ advances, and Lorenzo had more than enough times stopped himself from coming to her carriage in the evening and demanding like a lovesick child wanting to know why his presents were not enough, he believed he was special and from begging to stay the night with her to show his appreciation and what have you. Now in Portugal, moving through the Italian accommodations, he knocked upon her door. “Siya I wish to speak with you” He spoke against the door half wondering if would she have someone else with her or was the advisor alone. His stomach was in knots. He needed her and her council on delicate matters.

vitaiisms:

the familiarity that happens is natural between them – the three of them, sigge, dorothea, and jian – it’s been that way for decades now. at times it feels as though he knows them better than he knows himself, that if he loses parts of himself along the way he can depend on them to guide him back. the amount in which he depends on the two of them is second nature now, something he hardly realizes. the quirk in sigge’s lips is instinctual as jian speaks, giving the horse a light kick as they begin their small journey. he nods, “i’ve left word for her already. and a few of the others, so no panic ensues should anyone realize we’re gone. not that dorothea would allow anything to happen,” he shrugs a bit, heading down the path. sigge takes a breath – lets the air fill his lungs. “it’s stifling. you weren’t as cramped back in Switzerland. now, it’s different,” he says once they’re far enough away, turning to his advisor. “how are you fairing through all of this, jian?”

Jian was fully prepared to speak officially and as advisor alone - not as a companion, friend or lover to be business as usual like he loathed on the days he missed Sweden and the days were it would be the three of them plotting to overthrow a kingdom, eating fruit and tangled together curled in one another’s embrace. It was rare to find just one person to love and in a Western world taught by their Christian god love was limited, and between those two, only god could be their third. Jian did believe in saints and holy things was the third that bound them together - god had not brought Sigge a kingdom. Dorothea and Jian had delivered it to their love because they loved and believed in him. Jian smiles, surprised the question is directed towards him. To check on him. In this world, if Jian could call him husband, this would be the moment that word left his lips.

“The road is always hard to travel and the carriages are cramped, but when you rode I stayed with her to make sure she was alright. My journey? I miss home, our home. This is necessary, though - needed to take care of you and you are more than well aware to what extent my love and loyalty lies regarding you. I have old contacts in Lisbon from my days in the army that have wandered there and have written to them to see about points of interest and… I only worry if you are alright.” Jian spoke, allowing himself the moment of softness. “I will be happy when we see our accommodations when we arrive”

vipercille:

Open Starter! @1642hqzstarters

Location: On the road to Portugal, somewhere in Spain in the mid-afternoon

Şehla was glad to be out of France. She hadn’t been fond of being stared at by foreign villagers in another country especially while her daughter was ill.

She had left the Ottoman carriage during a stop in order to stretch her legs, her guards surrounding her as she gazed around at the beauty of Spain.

She turned to someone nearby.

“Do you know if France is always like that? I have read many books on the different kingdoms and I have never once heard of anything so… chaotic.” Şehla commented with her brows slightly furrowed.

“If we take the prejudice of my own countrymen, Sultana, some would say the French have always been like that. They we should remember were relatively untouched by tragedy during the plague and other pockets of catastrophe. In contrast, others suffered, and it may have allowed them to feel they were unaccountable. Untouchable,” They breathe, keeping a gentle distance, still recovering and walking about slowly. Weakness still ate at their figure, tired and naturally pushing themselves to the soft limit set by other physicians and interested parties. Nilani needed to be doing something. She was allowed air if it was clear they were not dying, and recovery was progressing. Food would still not stay down often, so one was still mending. “Portugal, I am told, is lovely and warm. Lisbon is a port city so there will be much more activity than before. I want to thank you for the care I was given, Sehla”

0fmercyarchive:

letters, what letters? aksel hadn’t remembered receiving any and he was certain he’d remember if they had come from zosia. in typical fashion he imagined his father had probably done away with any he’d received, always custom to making sure his sons interactions with anyone outside of their trade had been next to none. he looked to the princess, his gaze soft as he studied her expression. if he had received letters he wouldn’t have ignored them, if she had called for him he would have come running but he had known no different – he’d only been met with silence.

“ zosia, i didn’t receive any letters. if i had i promise you i would have read them and returned to you if you had need of me. ” he hoped his words sounded sincere. any question as to why the princess had been cold towards him now erased. it made sense now. “ i suspect my father had them burnt before i had chance to read them. but he wishd he could, again. ” a father that was now dead. a father he couldn’t take his anger out on now. “ i’m sorry. ” aksel’s gaze followed the princesses to where the young boy stood, his hair matched his own but perhaps that was a coincidence. even still he felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach, hesitating before he spoke again. that wasn’t possible. “ what did they say? ”

Staring out at her ward - her child she had brought forth into this world and had to from the moment he was capable of comprehension lie to him wondered what good the truth would do for him now? It was not time to tell him who his mother was or to have him understand why they could not openly be family or why she could only love from afar. It was not time to tell a young child his father had not cared to acknowledge him or to tell stories of a man she made him believe was dead to protect the little one. Telling this man who had not bothered to be a part before he had a son would only complicate things. It would put them in danger, both Pavel and herself, because while only a few knew if a king new or the people at large life would be spent on the run forever or in exile far far away. The english had their Americas and pieces of a place called Canada - it had crossed her mind before. Luckily a father was dead before the realization of young Pavel’s parentage and those trusted with the secret knew to protect it with their lives.

Still holding her knife at her side, the boy turned in the middle of the work he did to wave back at his princess, and Zosia gave a gentle wave back. “Fathers. Horrible creatures they are and that we have experienced. When one of my brothers dragged me back from the battlefield, that one stirred within me. I protected him, then with my life delayed our travel him to carry a child in my arms to present him as my ward instead of arriving heavy with child. All his life he has known me as a princess when I am his mother. He is your son. Dare doubt me and I will use my knife to tell you there had never been another during our brief time”

svnshone:

@1642hqzstarters || dagmar & open (ft the rare Mom dagmar)
setting: at campfire in a camp along the way to Portugal, late in the evening

It was rare Anneliese fell asleep on her these days- it used to seem as if all the baby did was sleep, slumbering away the moment she was handed to Dagmar. Now she seemed more interested in wiggling away to crawl on the ground, or hold onto furniture, to play with whatever toy was nearby or rip out the grass if it suited her. Tonight however the growing one year old had fallen asleep listening to the crackle of the fire- head against her mother’s breastbone, small fingers wrapped in tight fists around tiny handful’s of Dagmar’s jacket, the soft curls on the top of her head brushing against Dagmar’s chin each time she glanced down. There was calm in the evening sky, stars bright above. Few still wandered around camp- the fire was near dying, but still Dagmar did not move.

When she heard footsteps behind them, one of Dagmar’s hands left the sleeping princess’ back, reaching for the protection they always carried with them before she even turned her head- an instinct, especially in the dark. “What do you want?”

It was a curse to be so affected by insomnia, he was too far grown to curl by his mother like the babe did, and it was frustrating when the way such an ailment was usually cured in his regard was unavailable and risky, to say te least. He offered to help with the watch, but guards told a crown prince who was far more skilled than most of them to return to his camp, the wagon he came from or find something else to keep busy with. It was expected that the dowager queen would have protection, a creature such as herself with the losses they faced, and her own tragedy would keep things close to make a defense.

“Company, silence, a place to sit and warm by” Lorenzo stated, moving forward into the light so she could see a crown prince of Italy meant no harm to her or her child. Italy would soon have babies like that one he hoped - if arranged marriages succeeded and Italy would be restored with new wealth and new life, but things took time. He extended a hand to which he held a bowl with roasted nuts, seasoned with spices to bring out their flavors. Lorenzo had knicked it from a kitchen cart closing up. “May I sit, and we may share and there is no need for conversation if you don’t care for it. In any case, one more protector for your child here by the fire.”

0fmercyarchive:

as he stood there in front her, aksel found himself puzzling over every move he’d made and every person he’d crossed in the years that they’d spent apart. had he said something wrong? found himself tangled with the wrong person? even then he couldn’t find an answer to why zosia seemed so cold now. aksel had cared for her then and he cared for her now, given more time together he knew there could have been potential for more. he thought her beautiful, smart and stronger than most the men he knew. she’d never failed to impress him then and didn’t now even when she stood there looking at him like that. over the years he’d often wondered how she was, but what they’d had had been brief, still the question ate away at him at times, had it been the right person at the wrong time? then he would remember, she was a princess and he was just a blacksmith. what could have been would never exist.

“ you’ve barely spoken to me, ” a fact that left the dane unsettled, confused and with few options after spending so long trying to pick his own mistakes apart. “ if i did not hurt you then what have i done? it’s been seven years, zosia. i thought… ” at risk of sounding pathetic aksel refused to speak for a moment as he gathered his words. “ we are friends, are we not? i have not seen or head for you in all those years, please tell me what i have done wrong so i can right it. ”

Barely spoken? Zosia was wounded by the thought that this dane wouldn’t deign to acknowledge the plethora of letters bordering on the near desperate at times to tell him of a child she returned from war with. Letters written in the wee hours of the morning when not even god watched her asking, pleading with a man to see his son - to simply respond and it had been a better thought to imagine Aksel was dead. Hands that hid letters to send in secret so the family would not know the true parentage of her ward had cut down enemies, triumphed in battle, and yet … Zosia became more perturbed. To claim her friend and former lover - to claim some feelings lingered in a shadow of an idea of a future that would never be without saying anything like it and to deny the babe.

“Seven years is enough time to form an ocean of resentment. I had written to you do you not remember the letters or do i believe the connection that we shared, the bond between us was as any other connection not worth acknowledging - do you not see it?” Zosia stated, gaze parting from him and staring off in the direction she had been looking. The mother in her that was forced not to mother or hover too closely and denied that opportunity to truly celebrate a babe stared hard of into that group of people to see her son. Eyes burned with saltwater, a princess wholeheartedly rejected. Crying was reserved for feigned acts of faith and private moments comfortably alone. He had his father’s eyes, his father’s height, and the hair was only mildly hers. His nose and mouth had not yet picked a side on which to favor more but there was her child, the boy she had to call a ward and not a son.. “You did read my letters or were we not- friends? Was it so displeasing to you to hear that you have blocked them so far out of your mind?”

0fmercyarchive:

CLOSED STARTED - aksel & zosia. @sangetfer

he’d hoped to see zosia when he’d arrived in switzerland, but he’d been met with a cold shoulder and if there was a conversation it would be short and formed of few words. when they had parted all those years ago he’d thought nothing of it, they’d both found they were doomed. the chances of survival had been slim so they had chosen to live in the moment with one another after he’d discovered who she really was. they’d been young and clumsy, but no harm had been meant by it… perhaps he had been stupid and hurt her feelings to the point where she still held a grudge towards him to do this day?

it was on the road to portugal that aksel finally decided to stop giving her the space she clearly required, or he had at least assumed as much. when he saw the princess alone at last he walked up to her, anything else he’d been doing before forgotten. “ why are you ignoring me, zosia? ” his gaze locked onto her, any noise or people around them didn’t exist in the blacksmiths eyes. “ are you angry with me? i did not mean to hurt your feelings, I thought we were of the same mind. ”

Traveling had always been hazardous. Multiple nobles falling ill, travel partially halted and the epicenter of this stark turn of events had been born out of the polish and ottoman contingent. A future sister in law was sick as was the small english duchess, swiss gardener and governess. There was little time for comfort or frills - only care and continued progresss. Eyes watched with keen interest a young boy, no more than six or at the least just freshly turned seven assisting the other polish attendants. Tall for his age, already destined to loom large over the rest of the court but a good boy. A princess had told him he had an opportunity to play but not to wander far and instead the child chose to be of assistance though there was not much the child could do or carry. Zosia would watch over him like a mother ought to keeping the boy with her line of sight.

Then a moment soured, like curdling milk left out on a hot day or a storm cloud to descend and chase the brief glimmer of levity. Fingers played at the hilt secured at her side, hidden in the folds of a dress. A jaw tightened and shoulders stiffened with a woman bristling with a quite rage. Zosia could be cold if crossed but she could also be positively frigid. They had both been likely to die, what did consequences mean to dead men - the consequences were spelled out in a letter that was never given a response. Fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, glistening in the sun as its sharpness was brandished in a general direction. “what would give you the impression I was angry with you or that you had the ability to hurt my feelings? please elaborate aksel whom I clearly have not been avoiding but have been too busy to bother with?” Zosia stated with a swift sharpness to her words breaking their watch on the ward some distance ahead to look over to the dane.

tcmpestas:

“i’m not breaking!” he bellowed out, a little too quickly, a little too desperate to be believed. he hadn’t meant to yell at his sister whom he loved and adored enough to have given his own life for her ten times over when they had stood on the same battlefield, but it was too late now, wasn’t it? he couldn’t shoulder guilt atop of everything else that was already weighing him down. it would be sure to crush him. “i’m not breaking. why should i be breaking? there is nothing wrong with me, i’m not even showing symptoms. layla is and she needs me.”

in his tired, panic-stricken mind prone to working itself to complete exhaustion, henryk had a difficult time even keeping up with everything she said to him. yes, of course he would acknowledge what she said was reasonable were it another sibling in his place. but how could he take the time to show himself kindness and feel as zosia suggested when his world around him was collapsing? when he was needed, the very best parts of him, his strength and resilience, the protection he offered? how could he falter now?

“don’t be ridiculous, this has nothing to do with father.” he said brusquely, dismissively, waved her hand away. as if everything there was to say on that matter had been said with one sentence. “my worrying won’t fix anything! don’t you understand that? your efforts are wasted, you’d better save your strength for the ones that have fallen ill or helping lena settle judyta. i can’t afford to waste my time with breathing exercises. i can’t… i didn’t ask for this. i know you care for me as i care for you but i didn’t ask for your help. i don’t need it, zosia.”

There was a thought if the man before her was not her sibling - if he was one of the knights or the warriors she fought with the curl back a fist with muscles burning to deck him across the face. The last line, Henryk’s last words cut deep, slicing open wounds he too was deeply familiar with. I don’t need you Zosia. It may not have been what he said exactly but the fragile muscle in her chest felt it as if that was what was said. A hand flexed at her side and nearly raised to do so before she shoved him in the chest with the snarl of a sibling fighting for the life of the other. He reeled too close to disaster and Zosia would not lose her family to madness.

“Stop it! You are human after all. I remember my brothers - the boys who read to me and snuck cakes. I am a grown woman - we are no longer children. The man you have become - that both my brothers are is because of our father and in spite of him. You are already better than ours by leaps and bounds because I remember our father neglecting our mother. In her final days and in the final throws of her unstable mind he did not stand beside her. He did not care for her. He did not love her or us enough to hold our hands or comfort us when she was gone. He is the one who, by his lack of loving said to us do not cry, do not show emotion, bottle it until you break and then eat the jagged pieces to go forth broken bitter people denied love and human decency - denied a family denying human feeling. You are entitled to a break. Cry, shout at the sky, curse the ground - you are allowed to have emotion because what else do you teach young men who watch and look up to you if all they see are men who refuse to show emotion. Everything is not alright but it will be better. You are allowed to be my brother.” Zosia raised her voice, moving forward swiftly to cup a hand against his cheek. “Layla needs you. I won’t deny that but you are no good to her if you pretend to be the creature Father made you. You are no good to her if she ends up worried sick over you because you won’t allow yourself to be you. Be human, brother - be who you are. I know you are frightened. I know what it is to be worried over the things you love and afraid to lose them. You are allowed to be breaking.” Zosia said now holding him with both hands, lip quivering and eyes glassy with tears. He knew what she meant - he had to. “She did not fall for the man father made but the Henryk who allowed himself to feel and fall, Who worries and who is human. Cry in these arms, brother and breath”

0fmercyarchive:

CLOSED STARTER - nilani & nathaniel @sangetfer

by no means did the duke want to end up with any of the symptoms around camp, but he offered to check on the duchess for amara. though he didn’t know her well purely because he was yet to have the opportunity, nate wanted to make sure she was recovering well from the sickness, and he hoped it would put the princesses mind at ease too. in the past he would have chosen to keep to himself, not out of fear of becoming ill but because that had always been his way, quiet and hidden away in the background. but these last few days had seen a great change in him and he walked into the tent where he knew he’d find the duchess he’d footsteps felt a little lighter. he only hoped she would be feeling the same after several days rest.

“ your grace, forgive me i’ve not had a chance to introduce myself properly and i’m sorry it has taken this long, ” nathaniel offered her a smile as he sat down beside her. “ how are you feeling? i hope the symptoms have started to lift. ”

Straining to sit up there was an attendant there immediately to help the weakened form of the duchess rise to greet their visitor. The last few days were still full of aches and pains, the fever had not broken yet and coughing had robbed them of their sweet voice. It made the languages spoken harder, courser and there was a tremendous strain on their throat as Nilani had pillows brought to prop a weakened body up. A few days ago when the fever was high and hacking involved muscles one rarely used it felt as if they were dying or hallucinating Things were getting better but not entirely improved. Nilani smiled, dismissing the turkish attendant who was sure to run off and find her sehzade to tell that she’d woken again.

“Meeting you in this state I must ask for your forgiveness - I did not intend we meet like this. Please be careful. You are most kind though and sweet to visit me. They have only just started to lift. How are -” Nilani had to pause, moving to turn away and cough into the crook of and arm. Breathing was hard but from what whispers she heard in german and turkish this was much better than before. “How are our princes - the princess and the babe? Please tell me they are alright”