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[mansuetus]

Audentes fortuna iuvat.

Does fortune favors us, Tranquility?

Caesar himself was quite devoted to boldness and fortune; alea jacta est he said and the goddess of fortune favored him for many years.

in the end, she did not. it is a tricky thing, fortune and quite a riddle to guess.

[ that aside ]

An assistance is needed! For baking a cake to a friend whom I favor greatly and who, I decided, celebrates his birthday today.

Comments

text;

[agenda]

I should think fortune favours all of us, as we are alive and well.

My beloved brother and Lord Husband are cheerful, if not wholly safe, so I count myself fortunate — and ever so bold.

[ not entirely true but w/e. the truth is terrible and, therefore, best kept unspoken. ]

I am no baker, Lady Lucrezia, but I shall endeavor to assist you as best I can.

text;

[mansuetus]

Tell me of them! Your brother and your lord husband. Are they both present on the ship?

text;

[agenda]

They are, indeed.

My brother is the youngest of three, all older than I. He is a knight of the Kingsguard, and no truer, braver, better knight can be found anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. The people call him Ser Loras, the Knight of Flowers. Oft I think his wit is sharper than his sword.

My Lord Husband is His Grace, Renly Baratheon, King in the Reach. He is a skilled fighter, a careful strategist, and a good man, above all else. He is also my brother's closest companion.

text;

[mansuetus]

Why do they call him the Knight of Flowers? It is a romantic title; I did not know many knights cared for such.

The King in the Reach. And your own title? Queen in the Reach?

[ there is too much royalty in Westeros. Lucrezia knows a King on the North and she has met a Queen Regent and now this. The name Baratheon is familiar, and she realizes Robb told her once of Robert Baratheon who, from their talk, she imagines as an older version of her brother Juan. ]

text; spoilers for affc/adwd

[agenda]

The Tyrell's house sigil is a golden rose, and Ser Loras wears it with great pride. He is more chivalrous and romantic than any man I've known, such is his way. [ all the girls in the kingdom want to bed him and all the boys want to be him, after all. ]

Queen in the South, of the Crownlands, the Reach, the Stormlands, the Westerlands, and Dorne.

[ In the end, she must choose what is best for her family. Renly is dead. Robb Stark is dead. The Stark boys have little chance of survival, wherever they are. Sansa may outlive them yet, though the odds are not in her favor. The Lannisters, too, shall perish in due time, with her own family's careful invasion of King's Landing. Cersei will join her father in the grave by the end of her trial. Ser Jamie is wanted by many, off with Ser Brienne to his doom, most likely. Tyrion is gone. Her most recent lord husband, His Grace, sits athrone, a perfect puppet (and sweet, truly) for the glory of the Tyrells.

[ She is the Queen now. Her loyalties need not be feigned with Renly, when true power lies with her little lion. Due respects must be payed to Robb Stark, for here the young wolf has many claws, but she holds no warmth for him. Pity he did not trade Ser Jamie for his sister and flee. Pity he married the wrong woman. More the pity, he courts a lady unable to raise the dead. ]

For reference, your brave wolf, [ yes, she knows, having watched their conversations carefully. ] His Grace, Robb Stark holds the North and the Riverlands. House Greyjoy claims the Iron Islands — and the entire kingdom, though none bend to the knee to them. The Vale of Arryn remains with Lady Regent Lysa Arryn, sister of Lady Catelyn Stark, though she has not assisted any King or Queen in Westeros. [ she keeps her information dated; no spoilers for the watching Westerosi. ] Beyond the wall, no true king can be found. The wildlings have had many kings, and none have breached the North. The gallant Lord Commander Snow protects all lands from that which seeks to cross. [ you're welcome, jon. ]

[ Stannis receives no mention. He deserves nothing. ]

text; why is this the best cr

[mansuetus]

I will believe your words of your brother; if he is half as beautiful and graceful as Your Grace then he must truly be wonderful.

[ she was a sweet child when she came here, Lucrezia Borgia; spoiled a bit by the rough married to Giovanni Sforza but the news of his death here have certainly brought her joy. Sweet child but that too changed, even if her mannerism had not.

She doesn't understand much of the politics of Westeros (something that will have to change for there are more of that realm here than there are Romans) but politic is politic and Lucrezia has been educated, first and foremost by Cesare and he taught her well, trust no one sis; best be feared than love, remember.

She knows and that is not a big wonder, Lucrezia supposes everyone know by now. The pope's daughter considers her words well.

I knew very few creatures of the south, I admit. This ship seems to have a taste for the north.

[ and let it stay this way. ]

but there was another quite a while ago. You must know her; you are queen and she is queen regent and her hair is as gold as mine. She was here for such short while before leaving, I never quite had the chance to ask her of the south. I must ask you then! I will not take a chance of one so sweet and well spoken leaving my side before we speak!

[ and as for Robb Stark, well. she won't deny it, there is very little sense in doing that. ]

I am surrounded by the brave and the bold, it would seem! A good thing, too; if the proverb is not entirely wrong, then perhaps fortune shall favor them all here.

[ God blesses us all, her Holy Father would say; yet we sometimes have to help him bring justice about is what he wouldn't say and Lucrezia knew anyway. Boldness and fortune. ]

and yourself, your Grace! did it not favor you with two whom you love so?

text; flawless queen frenemies, man

[agenda]

Queen Regent Cersei Lannister, the lovely lady lion, as fierce as she is beautiful. I know her, though not as well as I'd like.

[ Lucky this is a text conversation, else her narrowed eyes and the tight line of mouth would betray frigid regard for Her Grace. ]

I pray that favor finds all who pass through this ship. [ dead kings mean little to living queens, after all. ] It has found me, as you say, and for that I am grateful.

What are you grateful for, my lady?

text; medieval Plastics?

[mansuetus]

you all have such pretty crests for your house! A flower and a lion. the borgia's symbol is the bull; it has to do with our Spanish blood, my brother once explained it to me but I still do not find it nearly as impressive as it should be. You are a flower, certainly, Your Grace and Lady Lannister was certainly a lioness. And I what? a bull is just uncanny, do you not think?

[ It'd fit Juan better, if anything. ]

me? well for once, when I left, my Holy Father was sitting on the throne of Vatican and my brothers and mother were all well and for that I am grateful and I pray every day God would watch over them since I cannot.

And then there are those I have met here who did not know me but were graceful enough to care for me. What more can I ask for in such a place? I am well, those who I love at home are well and those who I love here, they are well too. God and fortune have been kind to me, I can do nothing but pray they shall not leave my side.

text; dibs on regina

[agenda]

I take it His Grace has neglected to tell you the sigils of his bannermen. Not all crests are pretty, but then, not all houses are pretty. [ looking at you House Bolton. ]

With respect, I'm afraid I disagree. The bull is strength, unyielding. My ancestor Ser Gerald Hightower was called the White Bull, for his white cloak of the kingsguard, his fortitude, — and his physical strength, of course. I do not doubt that you are strong, Lady Lucrezia. How could I? [ for she has survived here, with such warmth of spirit intact. for she has wooed Robb Stark, as unwavering as he is. ]

We share prayers, it seems. I hope they remain favorably answered.

text; but she's not even blonde!

[mansuetus]

I suppose we are all that; beautiful and ugly. beauty is beauty but it is only ever a passing thing. My Holy Father once said even the lowest and most terrible could still come back to God and He would love them.

You are the first one to speak to prettily of a bull! I might find myself loving the crest despite it all.

text; too bad, gretchen

[agenda]

I hope so! It is hard to dismiss a crest, should one mislike it.

A sigil is not a passing thing, beautiful or ugly. It is a symbol, a legacy, unchanging — barring an alteration of character, of the very pillars of a house.

text; /o\

[mansuetus]

but we are certainly more than our sigil are we not, your Grace? Queen Margaery Tyrell is more than a rose and Lucrezia Borgia is more than a bull.

text;

[agenda]

Of course, but it is part of us, undoubtedly.

text;

[mansuetus]

undoubtedly! what is the prettiest sigil you have seen? aside of your own?

text;

[agenda]

I've always liked the Hightower sigil, a high tower with a shining light.

And have you seen other pretty sigils?

text;

[mansuetus]

The Orsini family of my realm is beautiful. It has a rose, too. Red and white knight with a red rose at the center.