((Contains reference to adult activities.))
30th March, 1617
After all the excitement they had managed to cram into one week of festivities, it was a relief when life in Carantania resumed its normal ebb and flow. The princesses and ladies who had weathered their rejection with grace were hosted a little longer by the new queen, most of them eager to give advice and make sure she was settling in well. Those who had not had the grace to accept their rejection well had left before the wedding even took place. But three weeks after the wedding and coronation, life had resumed its usual course.
The King's days were taken up with responsibilities to the kingdom, politics, and all manner of other things; the Queen found herself responsible for holding court, and for being at least seen to care for the common people. She had invited an old friend, Lysette de Roulon, from Kediri to be her principle attendant, yet kept on many of the Carantan ladies who jockeyed for position and influence. But perhaps it was because she spent so much time with her friend that the court somehow "forgot" that certain events of the past should not, perhaps, be mentioned when the Queen was in the room.
Careless lips sink ships, but in this case, careless words had reached the ears of a young woman who was already vulnerable enough, believing herself to be falling in love with a husband who, it seemed, did not truly want her at all. Which was why a footman was currently running through the palace as fast as he dared, hoping to reach the council chamber before the Queen.
He failed. Serafina stormed into the room directly behind him, her pretty face flushed, blue eyes flashing with venomous fury. And all that fury focused on Frederick, sat in conference with his chancellor and several lords of the realm, all of whom visibly winced at the feminine outrage in front of them.
"You were in love with my mother"!"
To his knowledge, the king had never given his queen any reason to believe he did not want her. He was as attentive to her needs and desires as he was to those of the kingdom, or so he hoped, but he had not yet shared with her the carefully guarded secret he had kept so close to his chest, and now it seemed that mistake was coming back to haunt him. He swung his gaze toward her, alarmed at the fury in her eyes as she practically spit the words at him, more accusation than question. He moved to his feet, gesturing with a hand for her to calm down, though somehow he knew it would take a lot more than that.
"Sera, please ..." he pleaded, not wanting to air his dirty laundry in front of his entire council, as well as the servants and anyone who was close enough to overhear. And who wasn't, when she was shouting at the top of her lungs, it seemed.
She had warned him that her temper was a fiery one. No doubt he had been hoping never to see it in full flame. "Don't you Sera me," she warned him, one accusatory finger pointing toward him, heedless of the way the lords around the table actually leaned back to avoid being caught in the anger she had aimed directly at their king.
Franz covered his eyes, not even trying to look innocent of what he knew here.
"I came to your court, I married you, and now I discover that I've made a fool of myself in front of every simpering half-wit who bears noble blood enough to pass through those doors" How dare you do this to me" How dare you wed me and bed me and never once mention that you once loved my mother"!"
Some of the lords at the table had fiery wives themselves - as soon as the queen's hand landed on the inkwell near her, there was a sudden scrape of chairs against wood and carpet, experienced men scrambling to get out of the way of the projectile as she threw it.
Thankfully, the king had a cool head, though he had not been expecting this today and certainly not in front of his most trusted advisors, some of whom were even friends. "Sera ..." he pleaded again, though she apparently was in no mood to be so easily appeased. He couldn't blame her really, but hopefully, once she heard his side of things, she would at least understand, even if she never forgave him or spoke to him again. That hand was still raised as if to appease her or ward her off, it was hard to say which, but it wasn't enough to save him from his wife's ire. Thankfully, he was quick enough to dodge the inkwell, which went flying past him to crash against the wall, ink splattering against the wall and carpet.
"I must have been such a disappointment to you!" she raged on, advancing further into the room as Franz herded the by-now panicking lords of the council out of the room. Apparently none of them had expected the new queen to have a temper. Sera's hand closed on an empty glass as she rounded the table, barely aware of the door behind firmly closed behind her, focused entirely on Frederick. "How you must have been laughing at me - the silly little girl, so easy to manipulate, so easy to fool into thinking you actually cared anything about her! All this time, I thought you were seeing me, caring for me, and no, you've been living out some fantasy where my ungrateful, careless, thoughtless mother didn't reject you and marry the first man to ask for her hand in the country she ran away to!" There was a loud crash of glass as the receptacle in her hand hit the wall behind him.
He ducked again, dodging the glass as deftly as he might dodge an arrow, though in truth, it was much easier to avoid a glass thrown by an angry woman than an arrow fired from an enemy's bow. "Sera, stop ....Let me explain," he implored her, spreading his arms in supplication. He could have commanded her as her king, but in this, he was only a husband trying to appease an angry wife. He was slowly and warily making his way closer, hoping to catch her arms before she could break anything else, including his head. "Whatever it is you believe is not true. I have never laughed at you and I have never considered you a silly girl."
"Oh, no' Explain to me then, your majesty, why I had to hear about your apparently epic love story with my mother from a snooty dowager and her puffed up primp of a nephew, who were, in fact, only telling me because I asked them who another pair of pointless fops were discussing within my hearing!" He did manage to catch her arms, but she was not in a mood to be calmed, struggling against his grip as her hand thumped against his chest. "Why did I even come here" Why did I let myself love you? My stepmother was right all along, this was a terrible idea, and you're never going to want me as much as you want the ghost of a woman who rejected you in the first place. The only reason you chose me was because I look like her!"
"That is not ..." he started, struggling a little to catch hold of her arms, even as she thumped a fist against his chest. "That is not true!" He grabbed her at last by the arms, firmly enough to hold her in place, but not so hard that he hurt her. A lesser man might have shaken her or even slapped her to stop her from ranting and raving, but he did not. He only waited until the tirade was over, doing very little to deny her accusations until she was all out of breath. He hardly even noticed that she'd admitted to loving him. What did it matter now, anyway' He had ruined everything by not telling her the truth, and now, it seemed his worst fears had come true, in spite of it. "Yes, you look like her, and yes, that was what initially attracted me, but that is not why I chose you!"
"Why should I believe you?" she demanded, and to her horror, she realized she was crying, her heart aching with the pain of being rejected before she'd ever even confessed her gentle feeling for him. Others had told her marrying a man so much older would only result in heartbreak and she hadn't believed them. "You've been lying to me. Why ....why didn't you tell me?"
30th March, 1617
After all the excitement they had managed to cram into one week of festivities, it was a relief when life in Carantania resumed its normal ebb and flow. The princesses and ladies who had weathered their rejection with grace were hosted a little longer by the new queen, most of them eager to give advice and make sure she was settling in well. Those who had not had the grace to accept their rejection well had left before the wedding even took place. But three weeks after the wedding and coronation, life had resumed its usual course.
The King's days were taken up with responsibilities to the kingdom, politics, and all manner of other things; the Queen found herself responsible for holding court, and for being at least seen to care for the common people. She had invited an old friend, Lysette de Roulon, from Kediri to be her principle attendant, yet kept on many of the Carantan ladies who jockeyed for position and influence. But perhaps it was because she spent so much time with her friend that the court somehow "forgot" that certain events of the past should not, perhaps, be mentioned when the Queen was in the room.
Careless lips sink ships, but in this case, careless words had reached the ears of a young woman who was already vulnerable enough, believing herself to be falling in love with a husband who, it seemed, did not truly want her at all. Which was why a footman was currently running through the palace as fast as he dared, hoping to reach the council chamber before the Queen.
He failed. Serafina stormed into the room directly behind him, her pretty face flushed, blue eyes flashing with venomous fury. And all that fury focused on Frederick, sat in conference with his chancellor and several lords of the realm, all of whom visibly winced at the feminine outrage in front of them.
"You were in love with my mother"!"
To his knowledge, the king had never given his queen any reason to believe he did not want her. He was as attentive to her needs and desires as he was to those of the kingdom, or so he hoped, but he had not yet shared with her the carefully guarded secret he had kept so close to his chest, and now it seemed that mistake was coming back to haunt him. He swung his gaze toward her, alarmed at the fury in her eyes as she practically spit the words at him, more accusation than question. He moved to his feet, gesturing with a hand for her to calm down, though somehow he knew it would take a lot more than that.
"Sera, please ..." he pleaded, not wanting to air his dirty laundry in front of his entire council, as well as the servants and anyone who was close enough to overhear. And who wasn't, when she was shouting at the top of her lungs, it seemed.
She had warned him that her temper was a fiery one. No doubt he had been hoping never to see it in full flame. "Don't you Sera me," she warned him, one accusatory finger pointing toward him, heedless of the way the lords around the table actually leaned back to avoid being caught in the anger she had aimed directly at their king.
Franz covered his eyes, not even trying to look innocent of what he knew here.
"I came to your court, I married you, and now I discover that I've made a fool of myself in front of every simpering half-wit who bears noble blood enough to pass through those doors" How dare you do this to me" How dare you wed me and bed me and never once mention that you once loved my mother"!"
Some of the lords at the table had fiery wives themselves - as soon as the queen's hand landed on the inkwell near her, there was a sudden scrape of chairs against wood and carpet, experienced men scrambling to get out of the way of the projectile as she threw it.
Thankfully, the king had a cool head, though he had not been expecting this today and certainly not in front of his most trusted advisors, some of whom were even friends. "Sera ..." he pleaded again, though she apparently was in no mood to be so easily appeased. He couldn't blame her really, but hopefully, once she heard his side of things, she would at least understand, even if she never forgave him or spoke to him again. That hand was still raised as if to appease her or ward her off, it was hard to say which, but it wasn't enough to save him from his wife's ire. Thankfully, he was quick enough to dodge the inkwell, which went flying past him to crash against the wall, ink splattering against the wall and carpet.
"I must have been such a disappointment to you!" she raged on, advancing further into the room as Franz herded the by-now panicking lords of the council out of the room. Apparently none of them had expected the new queen to have a temper. Sera's hand closed on an empty glass as she rounded the table, barely aware of the door behind firmly closed behind her, focused entirely on Frederick. "How you must have been laughing at me - the silly little girl, so easy to manipulate, so easy to fool into thinking you actually cared anything about her! All this time, I thought you were seeing me, caring for me, and no, you've been living out some fantasy where my ungrateful, careless, thoughtless mother didn't reject you and marry the first man to ask for her hand in the country she ran away to!" There was a loud crash of glass as the receptacle in her hand hit the wall behind him.
He ducked again, dodging the glass as deftly as he might dodge an arrow, though in truth, it was much easier to avoid a glass thrown by an angry woman than an arrow fired from an enemy's bow. "Sera, stop ....Let me explain," he implored her, spreading his arms in supplication. He could have commanded her as her king, but in this, he was only a husband trying to appease an angry wife. He was slowly and warily making his way closer, hoping to catch her arms before she could break anything else, including his head. "Whatever it is you believe is not true. I have never laughed at you and I have never considered you a silly girl."
"Oh, no' Explain to me then, your majesty, why I had to hear about your apparently epic love story with my mother from a snooty dowager and her puffed up primp of a nephew, who were, in fact, only telling me because I asked them who another pair of pointless fops were discussing within my hearing!" He did manage to catch her arms, but she was not in a mood to be calmed, struggling against his grip as her hand thumped against his chest. "Why did I even come here" Why did I let myself love you? My stepmother was right all along, this was a terrible idea, and you're never going to want me as much as you want the ghost of a woman who rejected you in the first place. The only reason you chose me was because I look like her!"
"That is not ..." he started, struggling a little to catch hold of her arms, even as she thumped a fist against his chest. "That is not true!" He grabbed her at last by the arms, firmly enough to hold her in place, but not so hard that he hurt her. A lesser man might have shaken her or even slapped her to stop her from ranting and raving, but he did not. He only waited until the tirade was over, doing very little to deny her accusations until she was all out of breath. He hardly even noticed that she'd admitted to loving him. What did it matter now, anyway' He had ruined everything by not telling her the truth, and now, it seemed his worst fears had come true, in spite of it. "Yes, you look like her, and yes, that was what initially attracted me, but that is not why I chose you!"
"Why should I believe you?" she demanded, and to her horror, she realized she was crying, her heart aching with the pain of being rejected before she'd ever even confessed her gentle feeling for him. Others had told her marrying a man so much older would only result in heartbreak and she hadn't believed them. "You've been lying to me. Why ....why didn't you tell me?"