#cardinal mazarini

[utka-v-tapke]

I'm in pain.... I downloaded the Guns of Glory game just because it had the plot of The Man in the Iron Mask and Musketeers 2011... The creators of that game made Cardinal a vampire villain with necromancer magic.... The loyal Rochefort turned out to be a pathetic traitor, and about Milady I am not talking at all.... One of Richelieu's best friends, Mazarini, is a "rat" in this game....

This is what Richelieu looks like:

For some reason Rochefort has a higher rank than Cardinal Mazarini.... Explain to me why ????

[famousinuniverse]

Anne of Austria (1601-1666) and her two children, the future Louis XIV, and Philippe, Cardinal Mazarin: Former Chief minister of France & François de Bourbon-Vendôme, son of César de Bourbon-Vendôme and Françoise de Lorraine, is a grandson of Henri IV. He is the first cousin of King Louis XIV. He remains single and dies without issue.

Louis XIV

King of France

Louis XIV, also known as Louis the Great or the Sun King, was King of France from 1643 until his death in 1715. His verified reign of 72 years and 110 days is the longest of any sovereign. 

Born: September 5, 1638, Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, Saint-Germain-en-Laye

Died: September 1, 1715, Palace of Versailles, Versailles

Spouse: Françoise d'Aubigné, Marquise de Maintenon (m. 1683–1715), Maria Theresa of Spain (m. 1660–1683)

Children: Louis, Grand Dauphin, Louis Auguste, Duke of Maine, MORE

Grandchildren: Philip V of Spain, Louis, Duke of Burgundy, MORE

Parents: Louis XIII, Anne of Austria

Nicknames: Louis the Great, Sun King

Anne of Austria

Queen of Navarre

Anne of Austria was an infanta of Spain who became Queen of France as the wife of King Louis XIII from their marriage in 1615 until Louis XIII died in 1643. She was also Queen of Navarre until that kingdom was annexed into the French crown in 1620. 

Born: September 22, 1601, Valladolid, Spain

Died: January 20, 1666, Val-de-Grâce Hospital, Paris

Grandchildren: Louis, Grand Dauphin, MORE

Children: Louis XIV, Philippe I, Duke of Orléans

Spouse: Louis XIII (m. 1615–1643)

Siblings: Philip IV of Spain, Maria Anna of Spain

Parents: Philip III of Spain, Margaret of Austria, Queen of Spain

Philippe I, Duke of Orléans

Brother of Louis XIV.

Monsieur Philippe I, Duke of Orléans, was the younger son of King Louis XIII of France and his wife, Anne of Austria. His elder brother was the "Sun King", Louis XIV. Styled Duke of Anjou from birth, Philippe became Duke of Orléans upon the death of his uncle Gaston in 1660. 

Born: September 21, 1640, Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, Saint-Germain-en-Laye

Died: June 9, 1701, Parc St cloud, Saint-Cloud

Children: Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, Marie Louise d'Orléans, MORE

Great grandchildren: Louis XV, Marie Antoinette, MORE

Spouse: Elizabeth Charlotte, Madame Palatine (m. 1671–1701), Henrietta of England (m. 1661)

Siblings: Louis XIV

Grandchildren: Marie Adélaïde of Savoy, Louis, Duke of Orléans, MORE

Cardinal Mazarin

Former Chief minister of France

Jules Cardinal Mazarin, born Giulio Raimondo Mazzarino or Mazarini, was an Italian cardinal, diplomat and politician who served as the chief minister to the Kings of France Louis XIII and Louis XIV from 1642 to his death. In 1654, he acquired the title Duke of Mayenne and in 1659 that of 1st Duke of Rethel and Nevers. 

Born: July 14, 1602, Pescina, Italy

Died: March 9, 1661, Vincennes

Nationality: French, Italian

Place of burial: Collège des Quatre-Nations, Paris

Full name: Giulio Raimondo Mazzarino

Siblings: Girolama Mazzarini, Michele Mazzarino

Organization founded: Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture

François de Vendôme, duc de Beaufort

Cousin of King Louis XIV

François de Vendôme, duc de Beaufort was the son of César, Duke of Vendôme, and Françoise de Lorraine. He was a prominent figure in the Fronde, and later went on to fight in the Mediterranean. 

Born: January 16, 1616, Coucy Castle, Coucy-le-Château-Auffrique

Died: June 25, 1669, Heraklion, Greece

Great-grandparents: Antoine of Navarre, Jeanne d'Albret, MORE

Grandparents: Henry IV of France, Gabrielle d'Estrées, MORE

Parents: César, Duke of Vendôme, Françoise of Lorraine, Duchess of Vendôme

Uncle: Louis XIII

Louis, Anne, Philippe, Mazarin, Beaufort, and most importantly, Pistache

[freyalor]

Lyon, 1630

Young bishop Mazarini, emissary for peace from the Vatican, tried to persuade Richelieu away from war in Italy for hours at their first meeting. Richelieu only shrugged him away. But Mazarini came back the next day, and spoke for just as long. And the next day also. By the end of it, though Richelieu never changed his mind, this wan't a negotiation anymore. This was a serenade, because Mazarini was smitten, and Richelieu knew it.

The first sparkle of a relationship that would define history over two generations of kings.

(It’s not my fault, @vitaraven started it)

[picnotesknowledge]

Cardinal Jules Mazarin, born Giulio Raimondo Mazzarino or Mazarini, was an Italian cardinal and politician who served as the Chief Minister to the King of France from 1642 until his death in 1661. Mazarin played a crucial role in establishing the Westphalian principles that would guide European states' foreign policy and the prevailing world order. Before Richelieu died in December 1642, he recommended Mazarin to Louis XIII as his successor, and the king accepted: http://bit.ly/Cardinal_Jules_Mazarin

[utka-v-tapke]

The fashionable men of France be like:

[freyalor]

Okay screw me but this is totally your fault. Thanks to that Serenade The Cardinal picture with Mazarin I now really, REALLY want a fic where Louis refuses the Cardinal (or ignores him for a while whatever) and then Mazarin turns up and is SMITTEN and starts serenading Richelieu and Louis gets suuuper jealous because how dare that Italian pimp try to romance HIS Red Beast. (I mean Richelieu refuses Mazarin bc Mon Roi but... You know where I'm coming from, yeah? ;-) Pretty please prompt request.)

There you go, Papillon. 

Io e Armando27k words

Rated Explicit

A chronicle of the years between the first meeting between Richelieu and young diplomat Mazarini and the fateful year 1642.

A piece of historical fiction extrapolating the feelings shared between those two brilliant politicians uniting their skills in many ways to keep France safe at the turn of an era.Must be read in a more historical universe where Armand’s heart and soul belong to the King of France only.

Will be a side piece to a bigger, longer fic to come, eventually, this year.

Thank you, Doctor @proudbright , my consultant in Italian!

[freyalor]

If you are interested in more headcanon requests... what about père Joseph? ;)

I already wrote quite a bit about him, but I think I can pull some more headcanons out of my sleeve for you ! 

Joseph is the only one who truly masters the delicate art of keeping Armand stable. he knows the words, he knows the medicine, when to give a hot bath, when to give tea and when to give opium derivatives. He has seen everything, from the most gruesome self harm to loud crisis of delirium, and handles everything with quiet, unfazed efficiency. Joseph is highly qualified at picking up the pieces whatever happens. Though he finds it against everything he stands for, twice a year he lets Armand sit on the floor next to him, just to let him breathe for a while, and read out his commentary of the bible for him. That’s how far he’s ready to go for his well-being.

When he lives in Paris, he sleeps in the Palais Cardinal, in a small room right next to Armand’s. it allows Richelieu to get up and scratch upon his door when he needs his help during his working hours in the middle of the night, since he always cuts his nights in two. It also makes it likely for him ti have a very clear idea of who Armand is spending his nights with, making him first and only on the list of people-who-know in every pairing, every universe. Nothing escapes the eyes of the Hawk.

They do fight more than once, and it’s always destructive for both of them. They’re both dreadfully clever and likely to take initiatives, which can be wrong if they don’t ask each other’s advice first (see Ratisbonne). When it happens, Joseph is devastated, and Armand’s mental health crumbles fast. Joseph, naturally thinking Armand as higher than him, is always the first to write a heartfelt, very logical apology from some monastery he’s hiding in, making Armand rsh at his side to embrace him.

Joseph is horribly jealous. Jealous of every smart spirit captivating Armand (see Mazarini); jealous of everyone else Richelieu would call at his service, and even jealous, in a way, of who he lets into his bed. He doesn’t love Armand *that* way at all, but he loves him so much that it still doesn’t tolerate compromise. There is a lot, a whole lot of bickering most of the times, sarcasm, innuendos, but generally their quiet, trustful intimacy survives to Armand’s other relationships.

Joseph has a few sins. Very few, since he respects his vow like the best of them all, but still. By example, he LOVES gossip. There is always a few hours of work “corrupted” by his thirsty inquiring for news and rumors about the lowest, filthiest stories of the Louvre. My headcanon is that it’s some sort of a sexual life he lives through the others, by proxy. he’s very cautious with Armand’s private life, but he’s merciless about devouring everyone else’s.

[freyalor]

Can I request another 3 sentence prompt?:D Trevilieu, Spanish prison AU or alive!Armand S3AU(Regent Treville and First Minister Richelieu) I'm possessed with the desire to read your version of those AU!

Oh Hello Naggie!

I filled your prompt at last !This one was complicated to me. Really. I felt lost in front of all the absurdity I had to deal with, blending my history nerd standards with REGENT TREVILLE, mostly because nothing can make me watch Musketeers S3, not even thatn but also because.

First, the Regency starts in 1643. That makes Richelieu hella old, but well, let’s say he’s not.

Second. it makes Treville and Richelieu face the Fronde instead of Anne and it changes EVERYTHING. It feels wrong. I am lost.

Third. NO MAZARINI (>__

BUT ! It’s you, so I had to do it, because I love you.

So l took The Circle of Traitors as canon, except that Treville rescues Richelieu while he’s already Regent, because if Richelieu was alive, and a Regent had to be named (and it’s not THE FUCKING QUEEN BECAUSE OF FUCKS), it would have been Armand 10/10. 

It may not be my highest piece, really. I did my best. 

-« Cardinal,Vendôme is a nuisance.”

-“That’swhy I told you to have him executed!”

-“Murder doesn’t solve everything!”

 He slammedhis fist upon his desk. Again.

His lipsnow turn to a thin white line of sheer anger, and I lift my chin, defiant.

Outside, athick curtain of rain is hiding the skyline of Paris from the windows of theLouvres. Lost servants and frowning clerks run through the courtyard, hopingtheir cloak will shield them from the Flood. Night will fall soon enough, withno promise of any clearer skies. Inside, candelabras are shining high, and thehearth gives a delicate warmth to the wide rooms. Firelight is turningeverything into faint gold, and Regent Treville is pale with fury.

Again.

It happensevery week. It happens every day.

May it beabout war to the Hapsburgs, may it be for the Royal Guard’s new uniform. May itbe for the number of guests at a ball, the hiring of a cook.

May it befor a Kingdom or a fork.

This ishim. This is me.

This time,anger wears the crest of De Bourbon-Vendôme, duke of Beaufort. Five years ago,he led a small, ridiculous rebellion against the Crown, judging thefreshly-named Regent too weak to stand the dangers of his position, no doubt.His plot, botched and plain, limping with a ridiculous lack of wits andpreparation, failed miserably, and all Vendôme’s accomplices were discovered bymy informants in less than one day.

But as Imade my report to His Highness Regent, rightfully asking for death sentence to allof them, he declared he’d show mercy and choose exile.

Ha! Exile.

I walked incircles, I spoke for hours. The Regency had just been declared and plots weregoing to bloom like daisies in springtime if an example wasn’t made quickly. Allthose men were nobodies, expendables, they were a prefect occasion to make astatement of force, to nip any other rebellion in the bud. Kingdoms weren’tbuilt upon mercy.

‘Maybe it’stime to start’, he told me, unmoved, and he smiled.

Regent ornot, His Highness or not, for all I care, I shouted.

I shouted,because this is me. This is him.

 But if theRegency was quite new, so was the glorious, reckless and magnificent rescueplan Treville devised to snatch me out of the dungeon cell I was rotting in.The second of wonder when that cursed door opened for his pale, worried facewas still glued to my skin. The minute he knelt next to me holding me into hisarms, encircling me with safety and warmth, was still engraved in every dream Ihad since I walked back into the Louvres.

Though Isnapped back into my old habits just as quickly as I put back my red robes,there was still, at this time, a lingering feeling of devotion to him in mybones. I owed him my life. I owed him everything.

I shouted,he cupped my face. I cursed, he kissed my neck.

Regent ornot, for all I care. But this is him.He breathed my name against my mouth, and I wrote the letters of exile myself.

The onlyvictory I could claim mine, still dizzy with warmth, still crazed with love, hasbeen a prison sentence for Vendôme, ten years in Vincennes.

  If angerwears his name tonight, it’s because he escaped after five.

And thismorning, of course, I have received a note informing me that Vendôme has beenseen in Chenonceau with a few members of the Fronde. He didn’t lose time,idiotic fool.

He keepshis jaw clenched tight, but his grip on those letters he picked up isn’t steadyenough to confirm. He knows he has made a mistake.

I keep myhead held high, but I take a few steps back, retreating to the nearest chairand slumping into it. Triumph does taste sweet, but not today. Not on him.

Silencefalls, just like the rain. Heavy, invasive, almost brutal.

 I watchwith a bitter smile the way salt and snow has covered his hair and beard thosedays. The way his eyes, sometimes, seem too tired to speak. They used to shout,once.

They usedto scream.

I have beenso sure, up there in that prison, that all I had to do was sit down and letmyself die. It was just like all agonies are. It was torture, but it wassimple. He opened that door, and sunlight came in. He ran towards me, and life returnedto my veins. He brought me home, he never once let go of my hand.

“Thank you,Captain” I whispered to his neck once, as the carriage he hid me in passedthrough the gate I thought I wouldn’t see again.

“I am not aCaptain anymore” he said with a faint smile, and I didn’t understand.

Then heopened the carriage door and they all rushed to him. Guards, servants,courtiers.They called him “Your Highness”, and I didn’t understand.

Agony wasgone, sure as daylight, but nothing, nothingwas simple anymore.

 I snappedback into my old habits just as quickly as I put back my red robes, our arguingand fighting simply unable to end, no matter the titles, no matter the place.

This is stillhim, and this is still me.

Regent ornot, for all I care.

But as soonas anyone else is watching, he is the embodiment of Royalty, and I have to bow,I have to look down, nod my assent and yield.

The sight,I know, makes us both cringe all the same. I have lost an equal, and so did he.

 At the endof it all, he is “His Highness”, now.

Jean ismy King.

  I let out asmall, disbelieving huff, and he reads my though as clear as day. He frowns,tired, a bit lost, maybe, in the absurdity of all odds.

 -“Whatshould we do?” he breathes, circling around his desk to walk close to me.

I shrug, I suppose,gesturing towards the outside with a vagueness that doesn’t look like me.

-“We sendMusketeers to search and arrest him.” I sigh. “If we find him, you’ll do me thepleasure of cutting his neck. If we don’t, well, the Fronde is likely to raisean army and march on Paris soon enough, so let’s hope he gets a bullet in theface and solve our small issue with that.”

He pondersfor a while, tense and worried. Then nods.

-“I’ll signhis execution order.” He concedes. “When he’s found, he’ll be -

-“Not onlyhis” I cut in. “All of them.”

He rollshis eyes, mouthing “not again” in furious hisses.

-“Cardinal.”He growls, menacing.

-“Yourhighness” I hiss all the same.

And Ibreathe in for another argument.

 But if Iend up not speaking at all, if I end up looking down.

If I end upin confused warmth and dizzy need, bowing slightly, nodding my assent.

This is notbecause they decided to place this burden of a title on his shoulders. This isnot for his position, his name, the golden rims around his coat.

If I remainsilent, once more, it is because of his rugged hand into my hair. if I submit to him, I swear, this has nothing to do with “His Highness”.

It isbecause of the corner of his lips, breathing my name against my mouth.

 This is me,after all. This is us.

  Regent ornot, for all I care.

Jean has always been my King.