♕ 3rd - video - waxing poetic

[skjalf]

[ elizabeth sits in the grass, with white roses in her hair and her skirts pooled about her. she looks thoughtful and placid to most, and only those who know her passably well may note an undercurrent of sadness in her features. it is there, but not readily apparent unless one has seen and interacted with her often.

her mother's absence and the hell that awaits her family in the future have not been forgotten. they hang like a great weight about her neck, and in the way her shoulders bow a little despite being straight and stiff otherwise. she keeps her eyes averted from the camera for now, as she speaks up quietly: ]

It all began upon a lovely day in spring
A maiden fair stumbled upon a King
Beneath the boughs of a mighty oak
Whilst two boys clutch'd at her cloak

And lo he came upon them there
Stricken at once by the maiden so fair
He gaze'd at her and she at him
Love-struck and helpless to its whim

[ she releases a long breath of air, and finally looks up at her comm device. her face still appears peaceful, as though the words and the act of writing them have had a calming effect. and perhaps they have. she effects a small smile, though, for good measure. ]

I think it a good beginning. What say you, Tranquility? Putting such a tale to words has been a daunting task, indeed.

I shall continue, and add more to it. But I must ask, are there such tales whence you hail from?

[ and if poetry is not your jam, elizabeth has another query. she holds up a plastic container (a stick of deodorant) and a glass bottle (perfume) and various other sundry items she has found. all sweet-smelling, all utterly confusing to a girl from the late middle ages. ]

And I must beg another query of you, if you please: what are these? What purpose have they?

[ anyone who knows her will see that this is only an attempt on her part to distract herself. sitting idle and stewing over the heaps of negativity life loves to send her fmaily's way has never been her thing. ]

Comments

[northerner]

Love poetry, Elizabeth? My lady wife should advise you better than I, though I find it a pretty verse.

[ dude don't ask him he is not touching the question about deodorant ]

[skjalf]

My parents were quite the couple, yes. This verse recounts their initial meeting.

[ she nods, smiling brightly. none will see that she is upset. this will be her burden to bear alone. ]

I thank you, Robb. It is high praise, indeed.

[northerner]

Do you wish to speak of them? Your parents? You honor them, with such a verse.

[skjalf]

If it will not trouble you, then perhaps a little. You have my thanks.

[northerner]

It would never be a trouble to me, to hear of your life and realm. Please, share with me what you will.

[skjalf]

[ she hesitates, but smiles slightly and decides to continue. ]

Very well, my lord. My realm is a land called England, part of an island strewn not far from the coast of a continent called Europe. Lucrezia's Italy is part of that continent. It is a land of cliffs and hills and dampness. It rains or mists or snows most of the time.

And it has been a land at war with itself for the past several decades. I am told this period will be called The Wars of the Roses, but we call it the Cousins' War. The Royal family had split into two branches, which both fought for the throne. Old King Henry was mad, they said. And he was deposed, his wife and son sent into exile.

With him gone, my father's House had the greatest legitimate claim to the throne. So his cousin, the Earl of Warwick stamped down upon the forces of the House of Lancaster, our rival, and put him on the throne. But he met and married my mother against warwick's wishes, starting the conflict all over again.

Things were still uncertain when I was born. I was not the boy the realm needed. But I remember, that this great, handsome man picked me up and grinned down at me and called me his beautiful girl. It.. never mattered to him, for he loved me regardless.

[ and she has rambled on too much, has she not? she flushes, and glances away. ]

Your Pardon, my lord. I did not mean to go on like that.

[northerner]

[ parts of this tale are familiar to him, remind him of old stories from westeros, of the mad king and robert's rebellion against him. but robb must be careful which stories he told, now that the dragon queen was aboard the ship. ]

There's no need for apology. I asked for your tale, and I'm glad to have heard it.

Has your father held his kingdom, my lady?

[skjalf]

[ if she were speaking of this with her mother, she would look crestfallen right now. but she is not, and she is careful about appearances around others. even her allies.

elizabeth allows her smile to fade into a look she is careful to keep neutral, and she averts her gaze for a moment. ]

For a dozen years, he did. But fever took his life a year past.

[northerner]

I'm truly sorry to hear of that, Elizabeth. Even with a year's time, the pain of such a loss must still be difficult to speak of.

[skjalf]

It.. yes, it is. Your sympathy is well-appreciated, Robb. I thank you.

[ she pauses and takes a short breath. ]

One day whilst fishing, he fell into the river. Within days, he was gone.

[northerner]

Your maesters could not save him?

[ it seemed such a deceptively simple thing. a tumble into a river, could a drenching so easily take a life? ]

[skjalf]

What is a maester? [ but, she draws her lips together and shakes her head. ]

No amount of physick or prayers could save him. His health had not been the soundest, but he was only forty winters old.

[ technically 'old', but she doesn't think so. not when his mother was still alive and kicking when he'd died. ]

[northerner]

A physician. Aboard this ship they call them doctors.

[ not old. near as old as robb's father had been when he'd been murdered, though robb thinks his story wouldn't ease her pain, feels it unfair to lay the burden upon her. ]

It's not an easy thing to lose a father. I'm sorry for you, Elizabeth. I did not mean to have you speak of such a painful subject.

[skjalf]

Oh, I see. Nothing could heal him, no. But he was eating too much in his later years.

After he'd spent so long fighting for his throne, he let himself go, as it were. I would tease him gently about it out of concern, but. Well, Kings will do as they like.

[ even when their daughters have them wrapped about their baby fingers. she smiles faintly, shaking her head. ]

Please do not be. It is good, to speak of him. Though perhaps recounting happier times might be better. He loved all of us dearly, even my older half-brothers. I never felt unwanted or slighted because I am the eldest but yet not the much-needed boy.