#❁ julian de vere [ thread. ]

[julicnn]

the other two men had jaunted off early in the morning, saying something about an old friend of sorts that they must meet - though julian had half a mind to believe they were simply going to drink, considering the rougish wink that cecil had tossed him as they left. there'd been an uncomfortable silence between the pair left behind, as if neither one of them dared to speak considering their last encounter had ended with them both far more upset than they'd been before meeting. foresight had granted julian the ability to see later that perhaps he'd been too harsh on sibella, she was a young girl compared to her father and uncle, and it had been cruel to needlessly taunt her when he knew talbot's warrant was already signed. his eyes had half watched her across the rooms they occupied, curious as to why she was writing so fiercely in a journal, though he hadn't dared to interrupt her to ask. the silence carried on for another hour while julian ruminated on the task that thomas had thrust upon him before leaving, half considered if he could negate it entirely and tell thomas that she had not desired to leave.

yet, julian could never lie to thomas like that and it was evident to the other men how restless their young translator was getting, only leaving for brief moments to translate bits of information. his voice had been steady but devoid of most emotion when he'd finally shattered the silence to inform her that he'd be accompanying her to the city to give alms, her request granted by the other two council members who held seniority over julian. her face had been a conflicting mask that nearly made julian chuckle, as if a war waged within her over the hatred she surely felt in her heart for him and the passionate desire she had to leave these stuffy rooms and walk the streets. 

it took only a few quick moments for them to set off, an odd pair of sorts that descended upon the city of florence with an uncomfortable sort of gap between them. julian minded his pace, so that he did not leave sibella behind with his larger strides and gait. when she paused for a moment to speak with a merchant, julian did as well, eyes drifting shut as he basked in the warm sunlight, faint smile on his lips. he remained a thick blooded english man, but julian had never been one to shun the beauty of a sunkissed cobblestoned path.

his ears tingled slightly as sibella spoke in italian to the man, an inclination that sounded effervescent and lilting on her tongue, but stirred an unfair insecurity in julian that he did not understand the language that they shared. when she returned to his side, julian inclined his head in mild question, miffed slightly when she simply nodded and continued onward. " you know, i find it quite odd how italians accept charity in this city," he said quietly, a teasing jest in his tone. " for that exchange to an english man looked rather more as if you were buying a bauble to hide away."

closed event starter for @unconqucred ! | florence delegation.

[julicnn]

" i suppose that is the burden all siblings must carry within this life, yes? to remain an ever present thorn in one another's side so that they may not rise to such lofty heights without our presence." it was not a sentiment he necessarily shared, remaining distant from his own sisters, but he saw the frequency of it within his own children. the teasing they shared that was ringed heavily with love and admiration, the kind shared between kin - it warmed his heart on the days that he struggled most, as thoughts of his brood often did. " my kitty does greatly adore mercilessly teasing her brother, perhaps you may seek to teach her a few new skills of torment," he said, a half jest while the rest remained in reality. while this woman spoke clearly of a beautiful vanity, he could not seek to make her his wife if she held any ill will towards his children. he needed a woman who may welcome the near orphans into her warm arms, soothing their troubled sweet brows. 

as they walked, julian was unable to keep his gaze from noting how the woman seemed to shine beneath the delicate autumn sun, her appearance bordering on divinely blessed before a cloud gently slid them into shadows once more. his gaze returned to their path ahead, he took slight note that she had yet to supply him with her name but he did not desire to interrupt her words with a callous repetition of it. " our majesty is generous with allowing his men to tend to other interests when time allows it, and i find no more noble pursuit in this moment than helping a lady breathe fresh air and bask in the beauty of such a fine steed." julian smiled faintly at her praise, enjoying the way it stirred something charming and endearing within his chest. " am i meant to believe that you desire my company for more than simply a chaperone to your equestrian mischief?"

A powerful man held opportunity firmly in his grasp; the Lord Great Chamberlain's position was unique given that one might think of a king's advisors to be wizened old men with their best years behind them. On the contrary, Bridget could see that in spite of the pressures of his office, Julian's youth was not yet fleeting. It was important to note that he was a man, not a boy; a man knew what he wanted and would get it, while a boy would stand by and wait for something to come along and happen to him. Bridget despised inaction, and had met enough boys still simpering at their fathers' knees waiting for their day in the sun when Bridget was already strolling in it, her own father's opinions discarded. "I cannot quite blame him for it; I have been an equal thorn in his side, though I would not trade my brother for anything in this world."

She slipped a delicate hand around a sturdy bicep, glancing up at him through pale lashes as he led her and the animal into the fresh autumn air. The days had not yet grown so cool in the afternoons as to require a cloak, and for that Bridget was grateful. Fall would turn into winter before they knew it, and then the courtiers would be stuck inside to avoid the chilling winter winds. "You have the time to indulge in a young lady's company when such responsibility lays on your shoulders, my lord de Vere?" Bridget questioned lightly. "Certainly a member of the king's council has many important matters to attend to." Her words were not pure flattery, though she knew a man did like to be praised. Bridget's free hand rose to toy with the pendant secured around her neck. "Though I cannot claim to be displeased with your fellowship on such a fine day."

[thquldnunc]

THOMAS WALSINGHAM as HADES

Greek god of the dead and the King of the Underworld

There are many tales that surround the information harvested from the unusual voyage to Florence by Thomas Walsingham, James Cecil, Julian de Vere and Lady Sibella Percy - but all worries, threats or weak hearts seemed to vanish upon the eve of grand festivities held at Hampton Court. Where the women performed, the act of metamorphosis turning every fair headed maiden into extravagant goddesses, Thomas remained sober in the background. Hand upon hand, he would linger beside his wife Penelope, who personified Persephone, coaxed into wearing something fitting for the namesake he had adopted for the night's entertainment.

The black velvet trimmed with red thread was suitable, and multi-functional, but it did not escape his attention that he adorned the darker deity as his person for the evening, hoping perhaps that this flamboyant gesture would be enough to keep the Cromwells at bay, for even a period more. With the keen eye of his beloved wife, the very figure of many future romantic historical fiction novels, his adorned cape was fit with figures pertaining the glory of Hades. Visions of keys with no lock had been woven into the lining of his cloak, figures of three headed dogs lauded as Cerberus when Thomas himself had never had a pet of his own, and pomegranates intertwined with flowers pertaining the visage of his wife's alter ego.

[bloodydayshq]

Bloody Days ‘A Rose With Thorns’

𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓𝟓𝟗: The English court must wage a war for the soul of their nation on two fronts.

The King, Queen Dowager, and Princess Elizabeth have not been seen by their subjects for over a week, driven from the heady epicenter of Hampton Court by highly secreted and contentious negotiations between England and Spain that leave the English court in frightful limbo. As rumours rage across the palace, attempting to rationalize the King’s absence – some suggesting that William and his sister had fallen ill of plague – the King and his council make swift preparations for travel. With only a small delegation of courtiers William and his Lady Mother ride fiercely out to Dover, bound by restraints of privacy and, all the while, facing a tide of betrayal, opposition, and distrust from within and without their inner sanctum …

On the sixth day of the King’s exile, however, the rains that have been driving relentlessly over England come to a sudden halt and, like a bolt from the blue, a merry messenger arrives from Calais. The King, so the courier reports, has received his sister, Queen Mary of Spain, in a great show of pomp, ceremony, and national accord. Mary and her husband, Philip of Spain, have agreed to spend the autumn with the King and his court, ostensibly holding an olive branch out to her half-brother, though tongues wag the Queen has her eyes on much more than merely diffusing tensions – perhaps intending to bestow favour upon England’s Catholic subjects, promoting the case of the Greys, and pressing the suit of her sister-in-law, Joanna of Spain – a task for which she has been intimately primed by the Emperor.

Amid nearly a week of feasting, tourneys, and private political summits held at Dover, the royal family must contend with bitter familial feuds whilst staving off the enmity of Mary’s Spanish retinue, many of which cast overt doubts upon the King’s legitimacy…

Whilst only a small group of courtiers were employed by the Boleyns to travel to Dover, those who remain in London have themselves a game of cat-and-mouse – or, for some, life-and-death – to play. Soon after the merry messenger departs for Calais, another cloudburst arrives at the court’s doorstep, and this time, the news is far from auspicious. The de’ Medici family in Florence announces that a certain Edward Seymour – presumed, for over two decades, dead – has turned up, seeking favour and aid. If England’s troops will not assist in warding off Papal encroachment into Florence, Edward Seymour – the illegitimate son of Henry VIII’s Catholic mistress – will be given the funds and mercenary necessary to muster a coup upon William’s yet fragile kingdom, returning England to the holy Catholic fold.

Immediately dispatched to Florence are James Cecil, Thomas Walsingham, and Julian de Vere to determine incognito if this imposter is truly the ‘lost’ Edward Seymour, or a mere pretender to the throne. At home, however, courtiers must face the mission of a lifetime in snuffing out juicy intel from those who knew the Seymours. And for recusant Catholics in particular, hiding their delight at news that Catholic hope may thrive again in sodden England will be no easy task…

Will the feuds between brothers threaten to cleave England at its core?

NOTE TO MEMBERS: This plot drop will be accompanied by over a dozen unique new Bloody Days muses that will be released in the coming days/hours/weeks/years (we prefer to spring it on you, so beware!). Mary Tudor will also be making an appearance here at Bloody Days, played by our own Bonnie (more details to be announced). Lastly, this event marks the end of the month of September.

OOC Details:

Welcome to our second plot drop / third event! This event will last from Saturday (noon EST) until Sunday the 23rd; however, if you so choose, by Thursday you may begin posting non-event related threads. 'ARWT’ will take place, in character, at two separate locations: Hampton Court and Dover Castle, Kent, the 'Key to England'. Four characters (Walsingham, de Vere, Cecil, and Sibella Percy) will be absent while undertaking espionage in Florence. All characters have been asked to participate – so please be sure to join us! Tag all threads and starters with #bd.event003.

Characters dispatched to Dover:

William Tudor

Thomas Wyatt

Anne Boleyn

Edmund Percy

Isobel Percy

Nicholas Sutton

Elinor Fitzroy

Robert Dudley

Amy Dudley

Bridget Parr

Richard Boleyn

Francisco de Guzman

Catherine of Spain

Annemarie Devereux

George Boleyn

Characters remaining at Hampton Court:

Amelia Grey

Aysun Dudley

Jane Boleyn

Elizabeth Tudor

Kismet Dudley

Maria de Mendoza

Meg Welles

Margery Holland

Elisabeth of Valois

Eleanor Grey

Katharine Grey

Philippa Grey

John Seymour

Alice Seymour

Penelope Walsingham

Gabriel Montgomery

Characters dispatched to Florence:

Julian de Vere

James Cecil

Thomas Walsingham

Sibella Percy (translator)

[julicnn]

closed starter for @thquldnunc !

there was a sense of arrogant contentment that hung close to julian within the presence of thomas walsingham, one that allowed him to sit comfortably at the other man's table awaiting to spend a meal together. more petulant child returning home to prod at an esteemed father, gentle jests that do little to conceal the underlying desire to be praised. to be given the words that his own father never spoke before his death, not that julian would ever grovel so low as to beg for any kindness from thomas. despite the warmth he sought from the other man, spurned by the loss of his father and wife within the same few months. face tilted towards walsingham often for guidance navigating his new appointment within a young king's court, to spare himself from a misstep that may upseat the legacy that julian sat on entirely alone now. kept warm till his own son became of a reasonable age to take his place, as he had done from his own father, and his father's father before him. 

at the sound of thomas' return, julian lifted his head from the pamphlet he'd been reading to smile widely at the other man. " you certainly took your time strolling back from your appointments, old mare," he taunted, with eyes that spoke of nothing malicious. his shoulders lifted higher as he subconsciously straightened within his chair, tilting his head in mild gratitude when a plate was placed before him. " tell me, what has kept you so long? if it is cecil, i shall be unkind with my words about his taste in women. certainly he has no need to sully your clothing with his filthy tales of the company he keeps," he jested, raising an eyebrow at thomas as he helped himself to the food.

[julicnn]

closed starter for meg !  @ladymegwelles when: post tower plot drop. 

in the afternoon, with the children safely tucked inside with their governess, julian had taken to the garden for some fresh air and sun to raise his own precarious spirit. and on his first jaunt around, his eyes had caught sight of a woman unattended who seemed to have a similar idea. upon a closer approach, julian realized it was marguerite welles, quite a beautiful yet baffling character within hampton court. her proximity to the royal family was considerable considering her status within, the whispers spoke quite often of the queen's fondness for the young lady. honestly, julian never struggled to understand the reason - meg was a charming woman, with a soft smile and kind eyes. she inquired often about his children, and when mary had passed she'd offered her prayers and condolences that genuinely had warmed his heart during the whole affair. " lady welles," he greeted, voice raised so she may hear him despite the distance. in a few moments, julian had closed the distance so that he could see into her eyes more clearly. " how humorous to run into one another, perhaps if you are not needed elsewhere - i may accompany you on your walk?"

[julicnn]

julian de vere , EARL OF OXFORD & LORD GREAT CHAMBERLAIN. | exclusive blog for bloodydayshq.  written by sunny. ( they/them )

intro. threads. musings.

[julicnn]

alice seymour felt as much a breath of fresh air most days, as she did an adversary on all the other ones. an intriguing woman with a sharp tongue, and a look in her eyes that spoke of her knowing quite certainly the way her words may have be interperted. she'd always glanced at him as if she was challenging him to question them - even after both of them were married with babes of their own, her gaze remained brushed with something. julian was fond of underestimating her, believed them to be nothing more than an unsatisified wife who wanted other attention but remained chaste outside the safety of her own marriage bed. even if she'd unfortunately been stuck with a fool of a husband. after the execution, julian's curiousity had been excited to note that they'd been sat near each other, directly in fact, rather than with her husband between them. 

his lips quirked in mild amusement as alice leaned in, eyebrow raised at the words that she dared to whisper to him. despite knowing that he'd sat on the council who declared the others guilty and sentenced them to their deaths. " our king remains in great spirits, i may pass along your well tidings to him if you wish?" he whispered, a haughty amusement in his tone. meant for her and her alone, a gentle reminder. his dark eyes follow the motion of her head for a moment, tracing the soft column of her neck. " it is wonder that you speak so much like seymour, lady parr, when your husband remains profoundly dull. " a laugh comes julian as he flashed her a toothy grin. " for the best, i do so greatly enjoy your company beside me. tell me, how are the babes?" 

After the executions of the traitors, claimed as so by the King and his family, Alice had made her way back to the breaking of fast which was meant in glorious celebration for a job well done. As the bodies were tucked away and the scaffold swept for the incoming judgement of Elizabeth Talbot, Alice thought that nothing was to be commented on or even thought off, before sitting at her place at the table assigned and sorted by the status of her husband and his rank amongst the many ambitious men. Picking at grapes plump with the luxury that game with a King’s feasting table, it was not long till she found herself beside another member of the council who had signed the fates of the ones now pushed into unmarked graves

She had known him from before, lives already lived before her marriage, after her children and now with the new ache (and loss) of family. Drawing her posture back to coax Julian de Vere into her circle, Alice centred her gaze upon him with a solid, stubborn look, an eyebrow raised with something left unsaid — a flirtation often paraded before the court in a usual manner that left Alice tip-toeing the line of what was and was not accepted. Leaning towards him, in the same way anyone else would approach a neighbour, she whispered for his audience alone. “Lord Oxford, I must ask you something… How is the King? I would have thought to have seen him, or do you think he is licking his wounds?” Lady Seymour asked, her head then falling to one side before parting her lips once more, “ — But then, it is probably for the best. If he was here, then I doubt I would have had the pleasure to be sat by your side… Don’t you think?” @julicnn

[goldsilked]

@julicnn

Hands outstretched, seeping with jewels. Chin thrown backwards, another raucous rush of laughter escaping her, a magnificent smile dripping from her lips. Madeleine de Limeuil shone, pirouetting across the dance floor with white silks billowing about her like sails of a Grecian vessel, her step light, her demeanour graceful, brighter than the comets that soared above the English isle. It mattered not that this was not France, not Rome, but England –– dowdy, forbidding England, its people as dank as its palaces. Madeleine had a talent for making a room her own and infusing it with her particular brand of magic, of light, that Caterina demanded from her ladies, a charm that proved untaught, as she watched from the velvet-strewn dais, an air of approval wafting about her. Casting her gaze across the crowd, Madeleine's eyes sought to ensnare a familiar face within her trap and, no sooner had one turned up, did a devious smirk settle upon the bourne of Madeleine’s lips, smoothed with Moorish honey, the column of her throat reddened from hours upon hours of dancing, her skin glistening –– like the ripened curve of a cherry, shining moistly in the morning dew and drizzle.

‘You, Mon Seigneur de Vere, I choose you.’ Diana, goddess of the hunt, nearing upon her prey, her French tongue rolling with delight. Laughter poured and the smell of Parisian wine spilled from her; making light the swishing of a hand, swaying in Julian’s direction, coaxing him to her side, a finger crooked toward her breast. She leveled a mirthful grin upon him, the arch of her brow questioningly raised. ‘Shall you honour me with a dance, old friend, in the eyes of all Europe?’

Madeleine openly taunted him, relishing in the gawping of those around the pair, as her eyes scanned his for any hint of disapproval – finding, in its stead, only the vicious vicissitudes of time shaping the Englishman’s – now much older – visage: the lines stamped around his eyes, the creases furrowed between his brows, the silver bristles woven amongst the sable threads of his beard. ‘I would recognize you by voice alone, monsieur. The decade has been kind to you and I, let us dance whilst we still might.’ Finally, she believed, persuading him to dance, Madeleine released Julian from her gambit and glissaded coyly to his side, the picture of contentment – a woman in her element.

‘My passion for English dancing is not so very fine, do you remember still the volta? A favourite of ours, on the continent.’

[julicnn]

the loss of mary still weighed heavily on julien's soul, it mattered little that years had passed when he was haunted by her features often in their two children - in the way that katherine cried at night for her, or how gideon grew each day into his mother's sharp cheekbones. at times, he was envious of others who moved on so gracefully, who allowed themselves to find love in the comfort of another when julian struggled to not find guilt in entertaining other women now that she was passed. perhaps, that is why julian continued to entertain the friendship that had been fostered with amy dudley before mary had left, in hopes that he may steal some of the strength she possessed to marry robert , or to keep close one of the few that recalled his once love so vividly. another voice to pass stories with on the nights when her light seemed to grow dim.

though at times, julian could not help but selfishly wonder if he adored amy still for the comfort that she graced him with, the soft touches and knowing looks -  for the way that katherine sat perfectly on her hip, as if in another life they may have shared a hearth and home together. bound by loves long past, and love that was forged anew. 

yet, amy dudley was not his wife nor would she ever be, julian reminded himself sharply as he gazed upon the sight of her dozing comfortably with his daughter. with a faint smile, julian moved forward to help amy lift herself from her seat, the hand not grasping hers was placed on katherine's dark curls, keeping her steady till amy was righted again. " yes, i fear if i spend another meal with cecil and walsingham that i may pluck a knife from the table and place it within my own ear," he jested, voice low and quiet as to not wake the sleeping child. it was a playful lie, julian reveled in the attention that the older men offered him for he had never been blessed to have older brothers, and at times they felt dangerously close to what he had dreamt of for it. 

julian's hand remained in hers for a breath longer than appropriate before he pulled back, a step away from her so that he may drift towards something - anything - that was safer than the siren pull of another man's wife. her voice rang out with the same moniker that mary had once used on him, her tongue teasing him with it often in the company of others, till he was grinning and begging her for a kiss. it makes his entire body ache to hear it once more, another hint of a smile on his lips. " i would be honored to join you, i am certain that gideon will be beside himself with stories already." at her question, julian swallowed deeply, staring at her in a silence. " will robert be joining us?" he finally asked, a cruel weapon but the one best suited to remind them both of the duty that bound them to a certain level of familiarity. 

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   …   julian  de  vere   (   @julicnn   )   𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞   …   the  dudley  family  quarters   ,   hampton  court   .   𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧   ...   9th  september   ,   1559   .

there  seemed  to  be  a  noticeable  absence  of  warmth  throughout  the  rest  of  court  when  dawn  had  broken  with  the  whispers  of  treason  upon  the  tongue  and  though  she  had  been  assured  that  the  palace  was  secure  with  all  the  traitors  awaiting  their  sentencing  in  the  tower,  she  had  announced  over  breakfast  that  the  children  would  be  kept  indoors  for  the  day  through  their  vocal  distress  at  the  news,  unmoved  by  their  tantrums  until  the  meal  was  finished  some  thirty  minutes  later,  tasting  of  honey  and  salt  from  their  tears.  the  mood  had  brightened  considerably,  however,  when  the  earl  of  oxford  had  deigned  to  darken  her  door  with  his  presence,  the  diminutive  figures  of  his  two  children  peering  from  behind  his  legs.  their  friendship  would  seem  unexpected  and  ill - suited  to  the  common  eye  but  a  bond  had  been  built  over  the  memory  of  his  late  wife  who  she  had  adored  and  comforted  at  the  end  of  her  days  and  it  was  in  memory  of  the  promise  that  she  had  made  to  mary  de  vere  just  days  before  the  sickness  had  taken  her  from  the  world  that  saw  the  door  widen  just  a  fraction  to  allow  his  children  into  the  warmth  that  she  had  built  for  her  family,  the  sound  of  the  combined  joy  of  their  young  prompting  a  moment  of  shared  peace  between  the  two.

silently,  amy  had  extended  a  hand  to  rest  upon  his  arms,  fingers  squeezing  gently  in  assurance  before  he  departed  to  fill  his  seat  as  lord  great  chamberlain  upon  the  court  of  jurors  consisting  of  the  king's  finest  magistrates.  the  children  had  been  oblivious  to  the  somberness  that  had  descended  over  court  and  if  she  had  her  way,  it  would  remain  as  such,  a  determination  that  had  driven  her  to  spent  her  morning  with  them  as  they  invented  games  and  stories  until  the  governess  had  arrived  to  take  robert,  gideon  and  anne  into  the  study  while  the  youngest  of  the  four,  sweet  katherine,  kept  her  company.

the  girl  had  grown  too  big  to  perch  upon  her  hip  for  long  but  katherine  de  vere  was  a  far  gentler  child  than  her  own  daughter,  fond  of  the  attention  that  amy  would  shower  upon  her  and  peering  at  her  needlework  with  a  fascination  until  her  dark  eyes  had  drifted  shut  from  the  exhaustion  of  a  morning  spent  chasing  after  the  older  children.  seated  on  the  plush  carpet  by  the  fireplace,  the  countess  of  leicester  was  happily  weighed  down  by  the  child,  hands  cradling  her  small  body  close  as  she  rocked  the  girl  into  a  deeper  sleep  and  laid  back  on  the  carpet  herself,  head  cushioned  by  the  pillow  that  she  had  been  stuffing  and  sewing  shut.  with  the  oldest  three  preoccupied  and  the  youngest  asleep,  amy  drifted  in  and  out  of  consciousness  herself  until  the  door  was  parted  by  a  servant  to  admit  the  earl  of  oxford  into  the  receiving  room,  prompting  her  to  sit  up  with  some  haste.  a  small  noise  of  surprise  escaped  her  throat,  hands  coming  to  tighten  around  katherine  as  her  features  twisted  into  a  small  grimace,  waiting  for  the  girl  to  wake  ─  when  she  did  not,  amy  extended  a  hand  towards  the  approaching  man,  requesting  for  his  assistance.  ❝  you  are  back  early  ...  a  break  for  a  meal,  i  am  assuming.  ❞

(  briefly,  she  wondered  if  robert  would  return  as  well  but  did  not  dwell  on  it,  the  strain  on  julian's  face  distracting  her  from  such  hopes.  )

❝  the  other  three  are  with  the  governess  ...  she  will  be  teaching  them  some  numbers  and  history  until  the  food  is  ready.  will  you  join  us,  jules  ?  ❞  she  had  heard  the  moniker  uttered  by  his  wife  almost  a  thousand  times  and,  in  the  privacy  of  the  room  with  just  his  sleeping  child  stirring  to  awareness  against  her  shoulder,  amy  felt  brave  enough  to  name  him  thus.  ❝  ...  are  you  alright  ?  ❞

[julicnn]

his trips around the continent as a boy had been marvelous, full of fond memories that julian still recalled to himself at times when he found himself wanting, they had been long before mary, so they remained safe and untainted with the tendrils of grief and longing. he'd barely had hair on his chin, nor much of anything but a promise of title, when he had trailed behind his father and uncle into the french courts, shoulders held high and a spring in his step that spoke of arrogance fastened like a pin to his chest. he was hot blooded, youthful, when he met madeleine there - with her dark, gleaming eyes that called to him like a siren song, a grin that he'd later devour in alcoves and sheets while she came undone a dozen times over beneath his touch. julian had never heard the french language spoken as beautifully as when it came rolling off madeleine's tongue in the heat of ectasy, with her slender fingers entwined in his curls, nails that scratched his scalp and sent shivers down the length of his spine. the time had been brief, the weeks flying by till soon enough their torrid affair came to an end, julian passing one last, heated look at madeleine before he returned to england and the life that was set out for him.

now, a decade later, julian could still recall the sound of madeleine's voice as if little time had passed, as if they were truly old friends returning to one another with nothing but a content sort of joy in their minds. his gait still was confident, full of spring, but now julian carried himself as a man of full title, who sat astride the king's council- who had begun to garner a name for himself aside from the one that was passed down to him by his father's death. madeleine remained a vision still, full of french beauty unlike those of hampton, and while he could see the telltale signs of a woman aging, there was no belief in him that her gaze held any less heat than it had all those years before. " you speak as if the honor is not mine entirely, to dance by your side, while the bevvy of your english suitors wait with bated breath for any acknowledgement," he jested, taking her hand to place a teasing kiss on her knuckles before gently leading them towards where others danced gayily. " i suppose that i owe a man, many a pretty penny, for betting against french women aging more gracefully than the english." 

with a laugh, julian nodded as they took position. " i remember the volta, though you must pity a widower such as i, it has been a few years since i've danced with another woman." 

@julicnn

Hands outstretched, seeping with jewels. Chin thrown backwards, another raucous rush of laughter escaping her, a magnificent smile dripping from her lips. Madeleine de Limeuil shone, pirouetting across the dance floor with white silks billowing about her like sails of a Grecian vessel, her step light, her demeanour graceful, brighter than the comets that soared above the English isle. It mattered not that this was not France, not Rome, but England –– dowdy, forbidding England, its people as dank as its palaces. Madeleine had a talent for making a room her own and infusing it with her particular brand of magic, of light, that Caterina demanded from her ladies, a charm that proved untaught, as she watched from the velvet-strewn dais, an air of approval wafting about her. Casting her gaze across the crowd, Madeleine's eyes sought to ensnare a familiar face within her trap and, no sooner had one turned up, did a devious smirk settle upon the bourne of Madeleine’s lips, smoothed with Moorish honey, the column of her throat reddened from hours upon hours of dancing, her skin glistening –– like the ripened curve of a cherry, shining moistly in the morning dew and drizzle.

‘You, Mon Seigneur de Vere, I choose you.’ Diana, goddess of the hunt, nearing upon her prey, her French tongue rolling with delight. Laughter poured and the smell of Parisian wine spilled from her; making light the swishing of a hand, swaying in Julian’s direction, coaxing him to her side, a finger crooked toward her breast. She leveled a mirthful grin upon him, the arch of her brow questioningly raised. ‘Shall you honour me with a dance, old friend, in the eyes of all Europe?’

Madeleine openly taunted him, relishing in the gawping of those around the pair, as her eyes scanned his for any hint of disapproval – finding, in its stead, only the vicious vicissitudes of time shaping the Englishman’s – now much older – visage: the lines stamped around his eyes, the creases furrowed between his brows, the silver bristles woven amongst the sable threads of his beard. ‘I would recognize you by voice alone, monsieur. The decade has been kind to you and I, let us dance whilst we still might.’ Finally, she believed, persuading him to dance, Madeleine released Julian from her gambit and glissaded coyly to his side, the picture of contentment – a woman in her element.

‘My passion for English dancing is not so very fine, do you remember still the volta? A favourite of ours, on the continent.’

[julicnn]

it remained to be seen if it was a blessing or a curse that julian had yet to begin his tenor on the king's council when henry passed, his father had served under him but as ever an obedient servant, he shared nothing but complimentary tales of the departed king before his own death. julian's entire life had been afforded to him by the crown, so his father saw little reason to ever speak ill of it. this is to say that he lacked the finesse of james and thomas in recognizing bits of the former king in the current one, instead rather simply seeing the prince that he had known for most of his life. a bit fair bit haughty, as royals often were, but a youthful, playful man regardless. one that julian enjoyed the company of, despite the frequent jests at his expense - he was aware that his title being freshest meant he was believed to be green, so he sought little annoyance in the ribbing of william. a fond laugh leaving his lips at his own expense, steadying his shoulders so that he may prove himself in this hunt. declare himself a bit of victory to ease the ribbing that came with initiation onto the council.

" i implore you to keep your wandering eye far from family jewels, james, though i admire the ferocity of which you admire them." with a grin, julian nodded his head out of respect for william. " i shall revel in your generosity, my king, and allow it to capture a worthy beast." 

julian turned his horse slightly away from the men and their chatter, slipping off it so that he may move forward on stealthily feet towards the buck he had spotted from the corner of his vision. the world around him momentarily fell silent as he focused on the task at hand - the antlers were a decent size, and julian knew that if he could bag such a beast that it may garner him some favor with the young king. with a quiet exhale, he brought the crossbow that his father had gifted him some years ago, to the correct sight- lining up with where the buck stood unsuspecting. with little fanfare, the arrow soared forward and struck the buck, the animal letting out a distraught noise before falling to the ground. a grin on his face, julian rose once more to a steady height to observe his kill. " what a glorious buck, i dare say larger antlers than the ones that cecil boasts of?"

The sun’s rays pierced like silver arrowheads through the leafy canopy of elm and pine, brandishing a red-brick welt across the King’s waxen forehead. Having ridden far beyond the walls of court, where the wind proved absent of the chatter of the palace, the devout practicing of Latin, the pervasive odours of Hampton Court’s scalding kitchens (privily roasting a feast for the King’s hunting troupe), all was swiftly replaced by a wave of fresh arboreal air and the snap of branches breaking beneath the troupe’s charges. Wills breathes a deep lungful of it, grinning wolfishly at the gentleman’s lewd jests, his smile as magnificent as the cloth-of-gold woven into his horse’s caparison. For, even astride a mud-splashed charger, Wills was determined that his subjects should know that the King of England was no pauper prince; amongst a coterie of noble courtiers, His Majesty glittered the brightest, even in a state of relative dishabille, as the pack picked their way through the dense parkland of Richmond, their quips and the deep baritone of their collective voices sending the nearest boar hightailing to safety. Whipping the reigns of his stallion, he sprints ahead, dauntlessly ducking beneath a lowly-hung branch.

The King's ambassadors clustering around him fell into a natural, unspoken order – the youngest, de Vere, to the back, and Cecil, his most senior advisor, spearheading the band – as Wills plucked a brow at Walsingham. ‘Our royal niece and nephew are Habsburgs – half, anyway,’ he remarked, feigning a sudden and morose seriousness: a volatility in emotion that too closely resembled his father’s to prove amusing for any man who’d survived that turbulent reign. Then, suddenly, his face ruptures with a blissful wickedness, a flask of wine palmed out of his breeches and driven to his wry lips. ‘And for those poor souls and their wretched jaws, I raise you gentlemen a toast. Are you dry, Walsingham?’ He queried, not waiting for an answer before he tossed the spymaster a vessel of his own. An avid hunter, but also a shameless hedonist, Wills would have drinking and merriment or he would have death.

He cocks his head, recognizing the name on de Vere’s lips – Mendoza. One of his sister’s hounds, who, despite her buxom beauty, was rather becoming an irritant to the King. ‘Does Cecil not already have a fine rack of antlers to grace his walls?’ Wills gallantly importuned. ‘I daresay we ought to consider our dear de Vere, and show pity upon a man with as little skill at the hunt as he has in his prick. What say you, Cecil, Walsingham? Do you not marvel at your King’s generosity?’

@jamescecils @thquldnunc @julicnn

[julicnn]

julian kept to the rear of the pack of men, allowing james and thomas to fill the air with incessant sort of chatter - the banter they seemed to keep up so easily, whether it be on a hunt or a meal shared between the men. occasionally, he chimed in with a comment but he prefered to ruminate on the careful and meticilous design that he had placed into their hunt this day. at times it felt more like the trio of men were brothers of his, the kind that he had not been privvy to as a young boy raised around a bevy of sisters. " careful, the day is young and james' wandering eyes have yet to settle. perhaps he shall go cross eyed for lady mendoza. the court is in quite a fit over her beauty, i've heard," he jested, flashing cecil a teasing grin. it did little to ease the slight anxiety that ate away at julian, worry and doubt that perhaps the king shall not be entertained by the hunt. the scent of blood still hung heavy in the air from the talbot murder, and julian had little desire to join her in the grave. 

at thomas' suggestion, julian sat up straighter on his horse. " surely, our majesty may go as he pleases without the chattering of an elderly hen?" the earl teased with a playful grin directed at thomas, though his eyes spoke of a gratefulness that he often attuned to the other man. it was not easy to take the place that his father once held, but he tried nonetheless. " yes, i shall go ahead so that we may actually catch something before it runs off at the sight of your hideous aim. or yet, your majesty, perhaps you shall like to have the first kill of the hunt? it would inspire us greatly, i do believe. far more than the words of old men."  @boleynsrex @jamescecils @thquldnunc

@thquldnunc @julicnn @boleynsrex

THE HUNT

  Beautiful was William's adroitness in the search; exemplary was the care with which Julian's designs were accomplished - Thomas' efforts, satisfied with their trim compactness. James sat in fascination; but his stead urged him to break this spell. He enjoyed the men for their capital sense - affection and deep regard has fastened in a bond. They had come thither to enjoy a hunt; outside the magnificent gates of the palace, a forrest awaited to take them home - the green sweeps of turf spread round them, the palace rising at a distance. White as a wraith, the morning sun shown above them; England's wind, born with a penchant for sobbing, scarce stirred. The hour was yet still and sweet; this pretty scene, save for the group, was solitary. 

 James was bonded to these men - an influence spread over all, a mutual concord. Without any colouring of romance, a perfect happiness was felt; a crowing prize of glory, awaited. Habit and a sense of duty reign- it bade him to rally quickly, to catch attention. "Without the weight of skirts to impress, or the greying beards of misers to rally against us, what speeches are we free to deliver as men? I shall commence - it has been told to me on good authority, that the Medici woman is only in possession of three teeth of her own, and the rest have been fashioned from a brood mare." Known to speak for so long, so often, out of a multitude of rumours, James would be bound to arrive at some intelligence; this growth of wit, had yet grown to fruition. "I appeal to our beloved King, so handsome even without his customary ornamentals, to choose our next path; do we venture to the left, or tread down the unknown path, offered to our right?"

[julicnn]

the earl had already been in the stables, checking in about a few horses that were meant to be used for a hunt with the king in the near future, when he spotted her. a tantazling vision of english beauty, with soft features and hair that shone like woven gold as the sunlight kissed it through the slats in the stable roof. julian found himself unable to move as he watched her garner a horse's approval, curiousity mingled with the hints of arousal he had not felt in quite some time, as if she cared little that she was a lady in such an unkempt place. with little thought, julian moved quietly to attempt to catch a better sight of her but his movements only caught her companion's attention. revealing him in the shadows of the stable, as if he was some unbecoming lesser man. reprimanded slightly by her tone, julian stepped once more into the light and closer to the woman, a polite smile on his face. 

" it is not them that i fear startling, my lady," he spoke quietly, eyes sweeping over her form briefly before he glanced at the horse instead. hand reached forward to brush along the neck of the creature as they spoke. " are you fond of the horses? if you may like, i shall ask the hand to allow us to walk one for a lap around the yard, if it pleased you so." julian offered, returning his gaze to her again. " i am quite skilled with the animal, i would not let any harm befall you."

Traipsing off alone in the middle of the day was not the sort of thing that a lady was supposed to do; however, despite her family name and her relations' best efforts, Bridget endeavored to do exactly the sorts of things that ladies were not supposed to do. A bird impossible to cage, it seemed to be Lady Parr's mission in life to forge her own path, regardless of what others thought appropriate. That afternoon, such determination led her to the stables; Bridget never felt so free as she did on the back of a horse, wind whipping through her long, golden locks as the animal tore across an open plain. She would not go so far as to try to ride out on her own - that would provoke consequences she was not in the mood to endure - but there could be no harm in visiting the animals deemed worthy enough to be housed at His Majesty's court.

All was quiet when she arrived, and Bridget wordlessly made her way through the stalls, stopping before one horse who whinnied quietly as she approached. She carefully reached out and gently ran her hand over its long neck, meeting the horse's large, dark eyes with her comparatively small, blue ones. The horse's attention shifted in an instant, drawing Bridget's gaze to the presence of another. "Careful, we mustn't startle them."

[julicnn]

julian believed himself to be a pious man, strong within his faith and belief to never claim another man's wife as his own - but it seemed as if though alice existed to shake the very foundation of it all. with her alluring gaze, and quirk of plump lips that sang to him as if she was a siren while he remained a hapless sea captain. oh, how he longed to plunge within her depths to plunder whatever treasure may lie beneath the vast layers of skirts she so often wore. it was a blessing and a curse that her husband had married her, for she was a breath takingly beautiful woman to behold - yet, julian held little respect for the man and his title. and with each soothing swipe of her voice in his ears, julian further sunk beneath her spell, a man captivated. " a terrible bore," he agreed, leaning forward ever slightly, as if they were simply whispering secrets to one another. " they whisper that he is as dull in his bedchambers as he is within court." his words are sharp, for julian is tossing a line to alice. testing the stormy waters between them, for a sense of a woman unhappily married.

" fret not, beloved. you remain effervescent in his attempts to dull you, far more radiant than any woman has right to be." his words are honeyed, eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he ducked his head in easy laughter, a soft one meant mostly for her. twinkling with amusement and barely concealed fondness for her as he spoke. " tell me, lady alice," his thumb lifted to wipe a spot of juice at the corner of her mouth, dragging gently along her bottom lip afterwards. " what more pressing affairs do you believe i must tend to? how shall you seek to ease the heavy load that i am burdened with, unjustly so, within your presence." a faint, dangerous near predatory grin on his lips as he regarded her. if alice wished to taunt and tease, then julian would not hesitate to call her on such a challenge, for he may be on his knees in the morning asking for god's forgiveness, but he desired to spend the night on his knees devouring the woman before him. till the only name on her tongue was his own. 

Her stare was made with a serious intent, silent secrets passing by the plump fall of her lips in some bid to gain some inch power — as if she knew just who it was who kept the King to his private chambers, as if she knew anything with the tilt of her chin. Of course, she knew nothing and it would remain as such for in truth, Alice didn’t care to think of the King and his paramours — rather, she only sought the safety and wellbeing of her own tribe; the Greys, the Parrs, the Seymours. With her curiosity thus satisfied, she returned to the breaking of her fast, her headdress pinned atop of her head in some hope to cover wild red hair — her fingers adorned with the gems that had been given to her husband in return for his service to the crown when his own siblings had been put to the block. It was not by choice, but instead a costume meant to tell any onlooker what house she thus belonged to. 

“Oh, please do,” she whispered in turn, adept at weaving a moment of intimacy for them both, the bright sapphire blue of her gaze staring into his own in some manner to anchor him to the spot before she supped at her cup, humming quietly, expressing a quiet delight at being named by her bloodline as she looked to him from beneath the lure of delicate eyelashes. “He is a bore, isn’t he? Sometimes I worry he has had some influence on myself or my little ones — but mostly, I’m glad he is away. I’d rather have you all to myself, as it should’ve been for quite some time,” Alice wooed, leaning back into him, her tone as low and tender as if she were to share some illicit secret. 

With the attention of others yet lingering on the executions, Alice thought merrily of how the day had come to pass. The only thing worth her fret was perhaps Agnes, or Phillipa. But as long as they toed the line, then the Viscountess felt no quarry to linger on such worries, and instead basked in Julian’s attention in the same manner she would’ve done when she had been unwed by various secret rendezvous’. “They are well, but do you really wish to talk about children? Why, I would’ve thought such a man as yourself would have more pressing affairs to quench. Perhaps I could ease your heavy load, my Lord?”

[julicnn]

an easy sort of laughter came from his chest, amusement clear in the way that he gazed upon her, wracking his mind to try and place where such a beautiful creature may have came from. julian was unable to place a name to her lips, allowing himself to briefly wonder if perhaps that may make it easier to gift his own onto her - though it seemed far from likely that this vision was not yet claimed by another man. if cecil had not sunk his own teeth into her pert body beneath all those skirts, ones that did little to hide the natural essence of feminity and womanhood that drifted off her form. " shall i persuade your brother to be a kinder soul to you? a lady of your nature should hardly have to live with such an uncouth man." 

at her words, julian motioned for the stable hand to join them and set upon bridling the horse so that they may take it out for a stroll. perhaps, in different circumstances he may have offered to allow her to ride the beast under his mindful guidance and firm hands, but julian had no desire to sully her reputation with unseemly rumors of the nature of their afternoon spent together. " i suppose you are correct, my lady. though i believe that with the right sort of inspiration, a man can be far more wild and loyal than any other animal." he offered her his arm as his other hand took hold of the reigns of the horse. " shall we walk? i believe it slipped my mind to greet you properly, my lady. julian de vere, at your service." 

The man who stepped out of the shadows was tall, and grew taller still with each step he took towards her. The light peering through the boards above them revealed his handsome face in snippets, and Bridget recognized him instantly as a councilor to the king. Still, her countenance did not betray her thoughts, and she regarded him as she would any other man who dared interrupt her sacred time alone, with a slightly raised brow and the wisp of a smirk upon her lips. "It is I, then? I assure you, my lord, I am not easily startled. I have a brother," she replied, the smirk turning to a coy smile.

Much to her father's chagrin, Bridget had never wavered in service to her own interests, not even in the presence of such a man as Julian de Vere, or his betters. His dark gaze slid over her fleetingly, and she did relish the feeling of being admired. "Ever so fond, I am. They are good and loyal creatures, strong in battle yet wild when permitted to be. Much like people, would you not agree?" The horse let out a whinny that echoed through the structure and Bridget joined the animal with a light laugh. "That would please me very much, my lord. You are kind to make such an offer."