iyassus

[iyassus]

@r0yalbloods​ || Kιɳɠ Iყαʂυ Tҽʂϝαʋҽ & Kιɳɠ Fαɾʅαɳ Sƚυαɾƚ || The Grand Dining Hall || Closed

Talks had stalled for the day. Boring trade discussions had halted the moment costs began to be spoken of, and between the scrape of beads upon abaci and the huff and grunt of unsatisfied kings and queens Iyasu’s head was beginning the throb. Lunch had been called for, and in the break of men and women heading for the vast dining room, Iyasu found himself seated beside King Farlan of Scotland.

When it came to Iyasu’s list of concerns for the summit, getting close to Scotland was not even written down. His reputation, and the reputation of Ethiopia in such a remote place, was the least of his concerns. However, if anything can be said about the French Summit, it was that it cared not for the desires of its participants (or perhaps it did, for those who had not been so badly incapacitated as King Seyon I of Ethiopia). So far, after dodging an assassination attempt from his own court, Iyasu had achieved absolutely zero of his goals. He had not even melted some of the ice between him and his wife. It felt as if each time he took a step towards progress some Fantôme or disaster or sickness forced him two steps back.

So, Scotland was not one of the kingdoms Iyasu had first desired to cuddle up to, but when Heaven seemed to grant him the opportunity to do so, he took it.

“Your majesty, may I bother you to pass the bread,” Iyasu asked in one of his soft, unassuming tones, hoping to start a conversation that would, at least, be more productive than those held that morning.

[iyassus]

princeolivier·:

Looking up at the king, Olivier gave a little smile in return. At least these conversations felt easy - it didn’t seem to Olivier that the king was trying to get anything out of them. Then again, they weren’t exactly an inept politician; that was Lucien’s job. “I admit… our dances can be… complex. It takes much time to learn.” Not that she had ever paid attention in any of her lessons, though. And then there was the plague, keeping them from dancing for many years, and now, the effects still lingered in their lungs. This cold season was uncomfortable enough - they didn’t need to strain themself any more by dancing. “What are your dances like at home?”

A smirk, curling in the corner of Iyasu’s mouth furthest from the young French prince. Complex was certainly the word for it. Glancing towards the ballroom, towards the space where the crowd suddenly thinned and made room, Iyasu tracked the movement of bobbing heads for a second with amusement. Prance, and leap, and skip, and turn.

The prince spoke, and Iyasu turned his attention back to them. He had not had occasion to dance for over a year now. The few parties he held (forced, one could say), during the later years, when the worst of flood and famine and plague passed, had been unenjoyable. The journey from Ethiopia to France had lasted weeks, and he had lain in bed poisoned for almost as long. But he was regaining his strength, and there was something about Olivier that Iyasu found enjoyable.

“Hmm, it’s like,” Iyasu pushed himself from the wall, discarding his barely-touched wine upon the nearest surface. He tutted out a beat through his teeth, placed his hands at his hips, and rhythmically rolled his shoulders in counterpoint to his hips. It was not the most skilful of dances, and certainly not a fair show of the beauty of eskita dances at home, but even this proved to show the differences between the two cultures.

[iyassus]

princesssoonee·:

“Far from here,” she sighed, “I was excited for the trip, to get away from home, but the world is big. Bigger then I ever dreamed of and a part of me is scared of it,” she explained with a sigh. It was true, when she first heard of going to France she was excited, thrilled at the fact she would leave home and see the world around her. But she realized quite quickly that the world was much different from her home and it was taking her time to adjust

Her honesty was both surprising, and yet not. Wearing a mask did a lot to loosen one’s tongue. “Is this your first time so far west?” Iyasu asked, hoping that he would soon be able to pull from her her kingdom of origin. It always did well to have one’s fingers in as many pies as possible.

[iyassus]

r0yalbloods·:

This ball wasn’t something Atossa was enjoying very much, perhaps another time she would enjoy this, the culture of the western kingdoms had at one time been something that was exciting to learn about. But being here taught her only one thing, the French liked to cover their problems with parties. If it had been up to her, the new year would have been spent finishing these talks and heading back home. Or back to Persia if she was honest with herself, she would see Kazem’s grave before she went back to Ethiopia. That was something she swore to herself. 

Right now she couldn’t think about that, she had to keep her focus here. If she let her mind wander too far, she would show the world the issues plaguing her mind and her court. Instead, she focused on the one thing she could handle right now. Iyasu was still recovering from the poisoning and she knew he had to be here, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it. Or happy with the way his health still concerned her. 

Everything in her wished she could hate him, he’d lied to her, kept her from her family. But he was her husband, her king, the man who had given her everything and showed her what love was. That man had left her, but the memories remained. Even with the mask it would be impossible to mistake her husband for anyone else, her mountain of a husband was unmistakable. “How are you feeling?” The mask was good for one thing, and that was hiding any expression on his face. “I’ve not noticed you enjoying yourself. You usually love parties.” @iyassus·

Iyasu had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that during the long journey to France he might win Atossa's heart once more. He had hoped that a simple change of scenery might refresh the romance that had once bloomed between them, as if the thing that drove them apart was Ethiopia and not the husks of a thousand broken promises, nor the rot of a betrayal he was still blind to. When the journey had come towards its close and the poison began to tear at his body, he had sought to find a silver lining in the dark cloud of the attempt on his life. He had imagined that Atossa's care for him in the physical sense spoke of care from her heart. He dreamt that as his body healed, so would their marriage.

Things were no longer as simple as they had been in Iyasu's youth. Awkward, cramped silences still hung where they should not. Atossa's smiles still did not touch her eyes.

Her eyes were what Iyasu could see tonight. The mask she wore paled in comparison to her beauty, and had they been home, had he thrown this event, he would have been sure to bedeck her in riches most would only dream of. But he had not thrown this party, they were not home, and Iyasu knew that even should he wrap Atossa in a cloak made of stars she still would not be his underneath it all.

"I'm well, عزیز دلم," Iyasu replied, knowing that the slight strain in his voice and the stiffness of his back showed it to be a lie. But what was another, in the mountain he had already built between them? What bad could a white lie do, when it was for her peace of mind? "The music here is simply not to my taste," he said with a twist of his mouth. This was not a lie - French compositions jumped and hopped to rhythms and beats far too delicate for his tastes. And besides, whilst Atossa was not wrong, the parties which Iyasu loved were his. Parties where he could sit amongst friends and foes and laugh and drink and know that all of them, every single one, were there for him. Drinkig his wine. Eating his food. Looking at his wife as she sat beside him. But this was not his show. In fact, where he would usually be enthroned and central, here he stood to one side, masked in some pitiful attempt to anonymise him.

"I also," he continued in Farsi, dropping into a tongue he hoped few nearby would understand, "cannot help but worry. There are too many unknown faces." He gave Atossa a meaningful look, hoping she would take his next words as those of the concerned husband he was. "I worry that you may identify yourself, being so close to me."

[iyassus]

princeolivier·:

Olivier recognized the king - much taller than much of the rest of their guests, and after having a conversation with him at their brother’s engagement dinner, as well as being pulled from their usual routine to greet him upon his arrival - they’d be a fool not to recognize him in this crowd. Shaking their head at the question, they took another sip of their wine, trying to feel less nervous about this whole event. “I am not really a dancer,” they replied - that was as simply as they could explain their situation. “But everyone who is seems to be having fun.” Their family did know how to celebrate, and Olivier wished that they could be celebrating along with them. They wished the sense of dread would leave them be for just one night. “Do you not wish to join the dancing, Your Majesty?”

Ah, that voice, yes. Iyasu placed it immediately, and something in him settled a little. At least at the side of Olivier Iyasu knew who his conversation partner was. A true smile plucked at his lips as Olivier made it clear she knew who he was by dropping his title. It was not a surprise that they had identified him, but it showed a mixture of forthrightness and strength of personality to reveal that (and, he noted, some slyness in her method of revealing).

”I believe, young Prince, that you and I are the same in that matter. Besides, French dances are unknown to me.” They were pretty, though, even if they had far too many finicky steps for Iyasu’s taste. He could have rhythm, he was known to join in with eskista every now and then, but these gavottes had far too much in the way of leg work, and far too little in the way of drum.

[iyassus]

princesssoonee·:

She could tell he was lying, it wasn’t so much that he made it obvious by his voice but his overall aura just seemed to be uncomfortable. But, she wasn’t going to be one to point that out and possibly make him feel bad or aggravate him. “It is beautiful,” she nodded in agreement, “we have celebrations like this back home but it’s so much different. It’s a complete culture shock”

The phrase was new to him, yet something about it resonated deep. Iyasu suddenly felt a bone-deep ache, a longing for the land he knew as home, the land that was his by rite. He missed the sound of Ge’ez in the churches, the cry of the birds in the morning, the taste of domwat. He missed hosting parties, where he was able to sit, enthroned, and Atossa was behind him splendiferous, stunning, shining.

It had been many years since Ethiopia had glimmered as it did in his memories…

Suddenly and greatly desiring a distraction from his own thoughts, Iyasu rubbed his palms together. “Where might home be for you?” he asked, though he could take an educated guess from her garb that it would surely be to the northeast of his Kingdom.

[iyassus]

princesssoonee·:

She felt like she stood out, she wasn’t sure why but she just felt… shy. It was weird, normally she wouldn’t be like this, she’d enjoy the crowd, but she just wanted to hide until the party was over and pretend like it never happened. “I thought I was the only one who frequented this wall,” she joked as she looked towards the person who appeared next to her. “I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason I am?”

@1642hqs-starters·

Whoever the young woman was behind her mask, she was clearly either less tense than he was, or just as good an actor. Iyasu leant his full weight against the wall, feeling the dado rail press into his upper buttocks and giving a sigh that he hoped did not sound as exhausted as he felt. His physician still cautioned him not to stand or exercise for too long after his long time in his sick bed, and though the night was young exhaustion seemed to creep over him, stiffening his legs and back.

”If that reason is to enjoy the sights and sounds of the masquerade, then yes, I very much am,” he lied, concealing his ill feelings towards the masked ball behind the air of a man who was simply content to watch and enjoy.

[iyassus]

princeolivier·:

open !

Usually, Olivier would adore balls like this. A time to be anonymous, among a crowd of strangers, looking their prettiest, eager to have alcohol on their lips and someone’s touch on their skin. But now, there’s an uneasy sense of dread in their gut. Who knows who all of these people are? Certainly not Olivier. Anyone could be anyone - there could be murderers among them, and no one would ever know. Olivier regretted their lack of weapons, but they weren’t exactly skilled in any art of fighting. So, instead of dipping into the crowded hall, they remained along the wall, nursing a glass of wine, trying to pretend like the dread wasn’t about to overwhelm them.

The ball seemed like a bad idea. Celebrations could be good chances for putting his best foot forward and changing the minds of those around him, but these masks… they seemed almost to invite danger.

Iyasu had never been a slight lad. Even as a child he had been a head above the other children his age, and as he grew into adulthood his shoulders had broadened, his spine had straightened, and his gut had expanded. Despite the mask, his identity was hard to conceal. He stuck out like a sore thumb, like an un-hammered nail. Yet just as easily as his presence was noticed, his absence would be recognised. After his long weeks of sickness, Iyasu could not afford to be missing from another event, even one as foolish as this.

In a room where you were an identifiable target, but all others were anonymous, it did well to keep your back to a wall. Knives could not stab through brick and plaster. So Iyasu kept to the sides of the ballroom, his back pressed up against the mirrors and panels, his hands empty of any possibly poisoned liquor. He trod the careful line between protecting himself, and putting on a show of his attendance.

Sliding along the walls to a new part of the hall’s edges, he paused as he found another doing much the same as he and keeping out of the main fray. His rings rubbed together as he folded his hands over his front.

”Do you not wish to join the dancing?” he asked, making conversation as if he were not similarly on edge.

[iyassus]

( nonso anozie, cis-male, he/him, 37 ) ** ♔ announcing IYASU SEYON TESFAVE, the KING OF ETHIOPIA ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble NONSO ANOZIE. it is a miracle that HE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are AGAINST the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of CAREFULLY COUNTED COINS, A FIST WRAPPED TIGHT AROUND A STRING OF PEARLS, HUNTING TROPHIES DISPLAYED WITH PRIDE, CRUEL EYES ABOVE A PLEASANT SMILE. (snail, they/she, 27, gmt) **

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BASICS

Full Name: Iyasu Seyon Tesfave

Name Ruling By: Seyon Sagad

Age: 37

Birthday: 2nd December

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Languages: Amharic, Oromo, Somali, Ge’ez (for religious purposes only), Persian/Farsi, English, French, Ottoman Turkish

Religion: Ethiopian Orthodox Christian

BIOGRAPHY

The dry season in Ethiopia was uncommonly wet the year that Iyasu was born, keeping trees lush and rivers flowing. It had been a full year since his parents had married, and as a healthy and large boy, was a clear signifier of a successful marriage. His mother was exhausted after the birth, but his father was ecstatic with energy. He had an heir to his throne, and another descendant of Solomon had been born.

From the time Iyasu started speaking he had been unable to stop. A babbler by nature, he received tutelage from the moment he could sit up, perfecting not only a number of languages and dialects, but also the ability to orate, to convince and beguile through word alone. A charismatic and intelligent child, he seemed a perfect fit for his place as the heir to the throne. Not only was he well loved and well-lovable, he also was a boy who delighted in learning the trappings of his office, in exploring all of the knowledge set before him. From oratory, then to theology, then history, and geography, astrology, arithmetic, strategy. He soaked up knowledge like the sands did water, welling with knowledge under the careful watch of his tutors and parents.

But knowledge was not the only thing which Iyasu devoured. He had always harboured a fondness for life’s pleasures. It began with suckling, and then developed into a love of food, of drink, of clothing and jewellery, or art and books and travel. Iyasu sampled all of the world’s offerings, devoured the best of them, and kept them close to his chest. He was fondly called “magpie” for his hoarding tendencies, though the word did come with a bite of bitterness from those who had had their belongings taken to pad out Iyasu’s collections. No more was this common than in the mouths of his siblings, who knew from young that their eldest brother would be quick to borrow an item and never give it back.

Despite his heightened interest in worldly belongings, it was clear to all those who knew him that Iyasu was a charming and promising king-to-be. It was therefore no surprise when Ethiopia’s allies Persia sought to tie their ruling families closer together through marriage, and Iyasu and Atossa were promised to one another.

For Iyasu, it was infatuation at first sight. A great appreciator of beauty, he could not ignore the perfection of Atossa’s features. Then, once he and Atossa actually spoke, he was in love. Despite their age gap of almost ten years, Atossa was clearly able to match him in wit and intelligence. Iyasu quickly set about learning Farsi, and showering Atossa in every gift he possibly could. He treated her as if she were made of the precious metals he adored, dedicated to wooing her, to knowing and memorising every part of her. As if she were a book of secrets, and he were its keeper. If it would have made her smile, Iyasu would have plucked the very stars from the heavens to give to her.

A few years on and Iyasu and Atossa’s marriage had not yet borne fruit, but Iyasu had no intentions of rushing his bride to bear him a child. He believed they had plenty of time to create heirs, and he would rather have his wife’s heart before her womb. But then his father unexpectedly passed, and Iyasu was quickly crowned King.

The first year or so of his rule was comparatively easy. Though there were new duties for Iyasu to juggle, there was nothing that he had not expected. He moved the capital of Ethiopia to Gondar, to a castle he’d had designed and built, showcasing his wealth, intelligence, and a love of luxury. Iyasu was ready for Ethiopia to flourish under his rule, to enter into a Golden Age so brilliant that his name would be spoken for the same length of time as his ancestor Solomon.

And then there was a dry season that lasted too long, and a wet season that was too wet. Crops failed, and in the countryside their rations spoiled or were eaten. Famine came, and famine led to death. Floods carried bodies and pestilence in the water, and that led to plagues. The bath house at Gondar, which had at first been so resplendent, quickly became a source of ire. The plague reached the capital.

For the golden boy of the Ethiopian Empire, who had had all he desired handed to him on a golden platter, the chaos proved to be too much. The first hurdle he had ever experienced was a large one, and, frightened he did what little boys in the bodies of men do; he ran away. Turning inwards, Iyasu hoarded the food in the area, sending out guards to commandeer half the produce remaining in all farms and homes and store it within Gondar Castle.

If the plague had been short lived, this move might have been considered a smart one; kept in the dry castle cellars, the food would not rot and rations could be fairly partitioned once the disaster was over. But the sicknesses, ill weather, and famines seemed unending. Iyasu’s Golden Age, the one which he so desperately wanted, was turning bark and dim before his very eyes.

Isolation does strange things to anyone, but to a relatively new king, feeling the pressure of his people’s demise, the frustration of his family and wife, and fearing the wrath of god, isolation was torturous. By the time several months had passed, mainly spent inside or wading through the water-logged castle gardens, Iyasu began to become paranoid. He was sure that there were thieves within the castle, who sought to take the rations he had taken. That, or they wished to steal the treasures of his family and forebears. He became irritable, frequently checking upon his hoards to make sure they were intact.

Though he was sure food had been stolen multiple times, no one was ever caught in the act of stealing, and Atossa, who seemed to be one of the few people able to break through Iyasu’s paranoid rants, would always end up calming him.

After almost a year of disasters, supplies arrived with a convoy from Persia; a gift from the Safavid dynasty, from Atossa’s concerned parents. Though in the past Iyasu had always been one to dote on his wife’s every whim, to give her anything she pleased, in this case he showed his true colours. Iyasu took the supplies and added them to his guarded stockpile, denying Atossa even the sight of the few personal items which had been sent to her. They quarrelled, and their relationship was severely damaged. Iyasu knows that what he did was cruel, and with hindsight he even knows that it was unnecessary, but he is a proud man who finds it hard to admit fault, and thus has never apologised.

Time passed, and measures were put in place. The palace gardens were drained of floodwaters and expanded to allow for greater freedoms within the walls. An assassination attempt on Iyasu’s life failed. Slowly, slowly, crop yields grew back to their normal numbers, sicknesses became less frequent, and trade began once more. Iyasu’s relationship with his people has been horribly damaged, but he longs to repair it. Healthier in mind, now, but still too proud to show regret, Iyasu came to the summit reluctantly to try and dispel the black reputation that preceded him. He is not looking to form alliances to improve Ethiopia, but he worries that war could be on his borders from kingdoms seeking his land’s resources unless he does his best to impart a good and strong impression on the other rulers.

KEY POINTS:

He does actually love his family and Atossa. He wants to endear himself to them once more, but is struggling to do so.

He is very smart, and often underestimated by those who do not know of his reputation (e.g., nations far from Ethiopia). He knows this, and is not above using it to his advantage.

He has decided that the best way to protect his country is through forming close alliances with other countries. Seeing as Persia had sent supplies due to Atossa being in Ethiopia, Iyasu is seriously considering marriage-alliances.

[iyassus]

All threads prior to this post have been discontinued, as per the end of the hiatus. All drafts have been deleted.

[iyassus]

r0yalbloods·:

–

This was never where she thought she’d find herself, dreading being alone with him. When she’d arrived in Ethiopia her betrothal had come as a surprise. One built after she’d spent time with his sisters while their father’s had made deals. Thinking back to her visit now she probably should have known it would end in her wedding. But even then she hadn’t had any problems speaking with him, being near him and even being charmed by the man. The first time he held her in his arms, she felt at peace, that she could have a chance to be happy. And she had been, until the plague. 

The man she’d grown to love changed into someone she hadn’t recognized. He refused to hear his subjects, his siblings and even her. He took what was his and locked it away, including her. Iyasu always listened to her before, he always took what she said to heart. But he locked himself away keeping things from everyone, even her. It was always nothing important he assured her but how true that was she had no idea. 

Looking at his outstretched hands, she hesitated before reaching out one of her own to take his. She was too tired to fight in any capacity, “Forgive me, I’ve not really been in a festive mood. I wish for these things to be done so we can go home.” Atossa squeezed his hand, even at odds with him, there was still part of her that clung to him, that remembered the man who sit and listen to her read in Farsi and try to repeat the words back to her as she fell more and more in love with him. That man wasn’t here, not that she could see.

...

Why could she not ask for something he could give? A necklace, a portrait, a silk dress? Why instead must she desire they leave this place, when he had only just recovered enough to begin making use of the Summit?

Iyasu carefully kept any frustration from his face and voice, caressing the soft backs of her hands with his thumbs. “Soon, عزیز دلم,” he said, taking some comfort that at least she still considered Gondar as home. “Now that I am healthy again, it will be soon.”

But how long was a piece of string? Soon was immeasurable, another sweet word he could use to his advantage to make empty and meaningless promises. He was sure she knew it. One of the things he admired and loved in his wife was her intelligence: She was a woman who kept pace with him, who seemed able to predict the motions of his mind and meet him step for step. In the time Before it had been exciting, enticing. Now it was frustrating: how could he rehabilitate her opinion of him when she was so quickly aware of his methods?

”You seem tired, love,” Iyasu continued, hoping to close the conversation to any questions she may have - how long was soon, what was his plan, et cetera. “Does sleep not find you in this place?”

[iyassus]

lianhwa·:

lianhua gave a polite tilt of her head, the best that propriety would allow with leana now clinging to the outer robes of her gown. “lianhua stuart, queen of scotland. i am hardly the woman to discuss politics with, but i am always open to an engaging conversation. which kingdom do you speak of ?” introductions had initially skipped her mind with her focus on wrangling her toddler, something which she was quick to correct. her memory had been worse lately than it was during her pregnancies and she feared manners would start to lack in turn if she did not discipline herself. 

the princess seemed to have taken nicely to the man as she met his eyes with a curious gaze. after taking a moment think the babe then gave an echoed garble of his earlier greeting to her and reached out with a spit-covered hand. “wee leana here has been somewhat of a parrot these days,” the queen elaborated, amusement in her tone, as she smoothed the girl’s ginger locks.  

.

Ah, yes, the Ming queen of Scotland. Iyasu’s interest in political discussions ebbed - a little. Scotland’s distance from Ethiopia hardly made it the best choice for his efforts, and its constant state of disagreement with England would put him at a disadvantage if he ever needed to try and woo King Richard. But it may also be a good idea to have an ally in the North. Even if their King Farlan was a little too attached to his sword.

”King Iyasu Seyon Tesfave of Ethiopia,” he said in way of reply, and gave a slightly shallow bow with a hand pressed to his chest. He cut short when straightening, caught off guard and amused by Leana - not Lea, he noted - and her babbled attempt at a greeting.

”Hah, what a fascinatingly exotic bird she makes,” Iyasu laughed, taking her small, stubby-fingered hand between a large finger and thumb and giving it a little shake in mock greeting. The spit did not bother him. Children dribbled, and dropped their food, and laughed and screeched and cried. It was what children did, and truthfully he rather liked them for it. Children were honest, and the few times they practiced dishonesty through tantrum they were easy to see through. You could trust a child far more than you could trust an adult.

And they were cute.

”It is a great pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” he rumbled with mock seriousness, his eye glinting as he shook Leana’s little hand. Then, doing his best to carry the warmth of his expression (what mother would not trust a man who looked at children with fondness, who showed signs of appropriate play towards them) he turned his attention back to Lianhua. “And of course it is with you, Your Majesty.”

[iyassus]

lianhwa·:

open

“leana, darling, 跟紧,” the queen called, bidding her daughter to stay close as the two year old walked ahead with uneasy steps. she would have preferred to have ahold of her hand or have her settled on her hip, but the princess was acting as stubborn as her father and threw a fit until she got her way. was her oldest this headstrong at this age ? she hardly had the time to reminisce now with how much leana consumed her thoughts nowadays. indeed, within those few seconds, lianhua had realized she had let her daughter out of her sight. she began calling her daughter’s name, looking to see if she had possibly hidden herself amongst the decorations of the hall, until she rounded a corner and finally spotted her.

“lea-” she stopped in her tracks, quite shocked to see her daughter hugging someone’s legs. without a second thought she made haste to them. “i must apologize, her governess is with her older sister and i only looked away for a moment.” lianhua scooped her daughter up in an instant, despite the girl’s initial protests. as unsteady as the young princess was, she was fast on her feet and seemingly undeterred from whatever came in her path. “i hope she did not disturb you.”

With each day, Iyasu became more and more able and accustomed to being on his feet for long stretches of time. His sick bed was becoming a memory, something he was more than happy to leave in the past, yet his physician continued to remind him of it through their advice. Exercise frequently, but only shortly. Do not overindulge in wine. Do not overtax yourself whilst socialising. Had Iyasu not been sure that they had his best interests in mind, he would not be forcing himself for his seventh short walk around the chateau corridors.

He took a large breath as he finally neared the hall in which he planned to sit for a while. A breath which quickly turned into an expression of surprise when he experienced the unmistakable feeling of two small hands grabbing at his robes and the trousers beneath them. Lifting his arm, he peered round the length of his body to see two large eyes staring up at him from a small, round face. “ሰላም,” he managed to say, before a woman’s voice rang out and suddenly a slender and well dressed woman - clearly of high stature - tugged the child from him.

Righting his robes where they had been tugged by little fingers, Iyasu let out a few sounds of protest. “Not at all, not at all,” he said, turning to face the woman before him. For a moment he struggled to place her, but supposed from her appearance and dress that she must be from the Ming Dynasty. “If anything, this little one may have opened the door to discussion between our great kingdoms,” Iyasu continued, and smiled as he peered into the face of the young girl, doing his best to catch her eye. Lea, if he had heard correctly.

[iyassus]

hixtoryofmxn·:

—

Generally a reserved woman, playing everything as close to her chest as she was able, Genevieve was more than aware of the fact that she’d managed to allow something less than appropriate escape her lips. Though she attempted to force herself from the familiar anxieties she felt brewing within her gut, the Queen simply could not draw her thoughts from what a mistake it may have been. Though, if she were ever at all honest with herself, she might have realized that there existed a small part of her which simply could not seem to care. 

The Queen nodded politely, ensuring her smile and expression remained unchanged. through the course of their conversation. Regardless of her inner-monologue, Genevieve was nothing if not one to save face in any situation which might have called for it. “I am overwhelmed with generosity at your kind words, Your Majesty. You have my sincerest of thanks. I am pleased to hear that your accommodations have pleased you, though I most certainly hope the level of care was beyond adequate as well.” Events that had taken place aside, Genevieve was a proud woman- proud of her family, her children, her home, and her country. 

The French Queen’s eyes studied the man before her, taking note of his posture, his syntax, and his overall demeanor. Things seemed pleasant enough, the conversation friendly and flowing in such a relaxed manner, she might have easily forgotten herself further. Her smile widened at the man’s offer, head nodding slowly in agreement. “I am most honored by your invitation, Sir. I must admit, I have long had a curiosity about the cuisine of your country. From the tales I have heard, you produce some of the finest culinary minds in the land. I wonder, do you have a favorite dish?”

”I certainly hope this will not offend you, Your Majesty, but I am unable to comment on the quality of care. Only my royal physician and advisor has permission to care for my health whilst I am abroad. I am sure that you can understand my reasoning for such a decision?” In another show of false humility, Iyasu tilted his head down towards Genevieve, as if truly apologising for not trusting her staff. The unspoken reason for his paranoia was heavily implied in the heaviness of his tone: France was not safe, not for him, not for her, nor for anyone. The Fantômes were proven to be amongst them. They had proved it with fire, they had proven it with letter, and they had proven it with death.

Of course, the fact of the matter was that Iyasu did not trust anyone but his physician and advisor with his health no matter <where he was. And should the spy he has attached to his physician’s hip report a change in their attitudes towards the monarchy and Iyasu’s rule, the good doctor would be gutted before they could lay another finger upon him. But Genevieve did not need to know about this paranoid facet of Iyasu’s personality. She only needed to know that Iyasu, yes even being kind, and humble, and generous Iyasu, saw France’s weakness.

”Ah, but onto much more pleasant topics,” Iyasu continued, covering his tracks with distraction. “Of food, I could speak at length. Ethiopia is not only rich in faith, land, and gold, we are also rich in diet, it is true. When I was a boy, my favourite dish was Doro Wot - it is a type of… of spicy stew, almost. And you eat it with Injera, which is like a thin bread.” As he spoke, Iyasu waved his hands through the air, carving before the Queen an image of a bowl, the flat bread, the scoop of picking it up. “But my wife, my Queen, she does not eat it unless the chicken is killed a certain way. So now my favourite dish is Fuul, for it has no meat.”

[iyassus]

ንጉሥ ሚዳስ - An Iyasu Seyon Tesfave Playlist

A series of songs to boost your ego

The Wannadies - I Love Myself .. The Undertones - Smarter Than You .. Kendrick Lamar - PRIDE .. Marcy Playground - Deadly Handsome Man .. Harry Styles - Golden .. The Chats - I’m the Best Person in the World .. They Might Be Giants - About Me

[iyassus]

princeolivier·:

They’d be flattered that you think so, Olivier thought when the king praised their tutors. If anything, Olivier had been a pain to teach, never attentive, always eager to go spend time with their siblings, both younger and older. Their lessons were their least favorite part of growing up here - they’d dreaded it every time. But the bow was good, they supposed, so, even to their dismay, some of their tutors’ lessons had stuck, even if it was for the sole purpose of not embarrassing themself or their family. “She’s looking forward to meeting with you, I am sure of that,” they replied, happily passing that conversation off to their mother - easier for her to carry it than himself, Olivier thought.

At the comment about matchmaking, Olivier fidgeted with their hands behind their back. Please don’t name me, they mentally pleaded, not wanting to end up the other half of some arrangement that they dreaded, much in the way they’re sure Lucien was feeling at that moment. Before this summit, they might have thought that their eventual marriage would be a love match. Now, though, they dreaded their future as much as they dreaded the present. “It is advantageous to have everyone in one spot,” they commented again, trying not to sound nervous about their future. “I am surprised the match was made so… quickly, but I suppose it is because of the fear instilled in my father from the letters… his life is on the line, and he would rather leave France with a King soon to be married than a King unmatched.” There Olivier spills some of his anxieties. The letter the Phantoms had slipped under their door still rattled them to their core. Their father’s life, so close to being taken from them - it would make sense that that was why Lucien’s betrothal was announced to the court so quickly. That led to the thought in Olivier’s mind - what if they threaten Lucien next? - which also terrified them. They wanted no part of being king, mentally sharing a prayer with all the gods they know of to let Lucien live a long, strong life.

Fighting the urge to raise an eyebrow as the prince offered up (useful, brilliant, beautiful) information about their father’s mindset, Iyasu let out a baritone hum, and nodded his head slowly. With his eyes still on the horizon, he could just make out the space where the sky lightened with the fading sun. Perhaps less suspicious men would not take it as a portent, but Iyasu felt sure that the Heavens were showing their plans to him. The sun was setting on France, and the last gold highlighting the clouds on the horizon would soon dull and tarnish in their treasuries.

“Your King not only organised this summit, but also formed such a match to secure his kingdom’s future… A wise and powerful man indeed,” he said. It was not an untruth; though Iyasu felt, now more than ever, that France was a sick beast dying at the hands of the parasitic Fantômes, he could not help but admire King Marcel for so desperately trying to fight against the inevitable.

Glimpsing from the corner of his eye at Olivier, Iyasu couldn’t help but notice the look in their eyes. Already haunted in their appearance and their past, Olivier with worry in their features looked one step away from ghastly. Fixing a falsely cheering look upon his face, Iyasu took one large hand and placed it upon their shoulder with a clapping motion.

[iyassus]

fcreverrcyals·:

charlotte had found herself venturing out of the four walls of the castle and into the garden where she spent most afternoons. the sky may have been grey and gloomy on that warm day, but she still believed there was a sort of beauty in spending her afternoons in the garden. these very walks reminded her of when she was young. she would sneak out of her lessons and hide until her siblings or servants were sent out after her. 

how she missed childhood years. she would often still wish to have the freedom she dreamt of as a child. however, she knew now that acting like a proper princess was the most important thing for her. so, the fleeting wishes of freedom had to be good enough to satisfy her. with these thoughts still rolling around in her mind, she passed the foliage and noticed another person in the garden. 

as she continued with her stroll, she attempted to remain silent in an effort not to draw attention to herself. though, fate had other plans when a stick broke underneath the young woman’s foot. “ i apologize. i did not mean to disturb you.” the blue-eyed woman spoke softly in a kind voice as she came up to another who was seemed to be. looking around once more before returning her gaze to the other. “ peaceful out here, is it not ? ” she spoke, donning the same smile she typically wore. 

Months of travel, and months more in a sick-bed: It would be draining to any, and Iyasu was no exception. He missed his home. He missed it deeply, deeper than any soul alive could understand. Ethiopia ran in his blood. The earth was his flesh, the mountains his bones, the rain his sweat. He missed its smells and its sights. He missed the very air.

Were he at home now, the rainy season would be ending. The air would be damp, but not as damp as it had been in the weeks of monsoon. The earth would be beginning to dry out, the top layers fracturing into sprawling geometric puzzles. The skies would be white with cloud, but the sun still fierce through it. Here in France the skies were oppressive, and the sun felt but not seen. Here in France the ground still felt thick with mud and horse dung. Here in France, the air got under his clothes and felt wrong.

Iyasu did not like it.

But not liking it was no valid excuse, or so his physician had clucked. Fresh air, brief walks, and warm foods were what he needed now. It did not matter if he stood still in the gardens and sneered at the sky for being the wrong colour. As long as he was outside doing it, the man would be placated.

The snap of a twig underfoot was what made Iyasu turn. His face quickly dropped from the unpleasant grimace it had once held, fashioning instead into the amiable front he had perfected for this summit. Before him stood a woman, young and mild. Sweet, by the sound of her voice. Weak, most likely. Unthreatening. He unfurled his rigid fists at his side.

“Ah yes, very peaceful,” he agreed, looking around the gardens, lush with unfamiliar foliage quickly changing in the grasp of autumn. A smile slipped over his mouth. “Perhaps too much so. I miss the call of birds,” he admitted, bending slightly towards the woman as he did. Let it be their secret, his voice said, all humour and kindness.