A Meeting Most Royal (Long Live The Queen)

Title: A Meeting Most Royal
Description: Tag Elizabeth, Anne, or Both

Elisabeth de Valois - August 11, 2011 01:19 AM (GMT)

( ALLONS ENFANTS DE LA PATRIE )
" LE JOUR DE GLOIRE EST ARRIVE "

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“Her Royal Highness, Elisabeth de Valois, Princess of France!”

As the chamberlain announced her, the French princess, with her delicate hands folded over her waist, sauntered into the Great Hall of Whitehall Palace in all of her regal glory, passing by the genuflecting courtiers without a second thought. With her head held high, she glided across the wooden floors, the hem of her magnificent gown trailing behind her like mist. Four of her several ladies-in-waiting following behind her in simple but elegant pale, floral patterned dresses with matching French hoods that the princess had chosen herself. Elisabeth’s ladies carried themselves just as nobly as their princess but with a distinct sense of modesty and humility. They could not outshine princess. They would not even think to dare.

Thankfully for her ladies, Princess Elisabeth would be a very difficult woman to eclipse today. She had chosen to wear one of her most elaborate ensembles in order to impress the English court. Her garment could be described in one word: peacock. Her gown was created from stunning, iridescent dark green satin. Two of the exotic birds were embroidered onto the bodice, and the forepart looked like a cascade of its vibrant tail feathers. On the crown of her head rested a matching French hood that was embellished with pearls while her dark locks cascaded loose, over her shoulders. Finally to show her devotion to God, Elisabeth wore a pearl and gold cross necklace. With such striking attire, the Princesse Royale knew that only women of equal or greater status could match her, which was how it was supposed to be.

Then the image of Diane de Poitiers dressed in her finest attire and jewels, which were gifts from Elisabeth’s father, manifested her mind. Her hands clenched at the thought of Henry II’s mistress. How Elisabeth loathed that woman! Poets and bards would not even be able to find the words to describe the intensity of her hate. The Princess of France shook the harlot’s image from mind before her face had the chance to contort into an unattractive grimace. Bringing herself back to reality, Elisabeth was even more pleased to be in England than she was two days ago when she landed in its shores. In England, there were no kings who could humiliate their wives by taking a mistress. No. There was an honorable queen, a daughter of the great Anne Boleyn.

The newly coroneted Queen Elizabeth was actually the reason why the Princesse Royale had traveled to the British isle. Well… sort of. It was more or less for the proposal of a betrothal between her brother, Henry the Duke of Anjou, and the Queen of England. Her father sent her to try and discreetly persuade Elizabeth to choose Henry as her husband. Apparently the King of France was all about strengthening and creating alliances now. Of course Elisabeth would no woman to suffer her brother as a husband. He was so weak willed and frivolous, and there was that one time where she found one her gowns in his apartments. The Princesse Royale still did not know what to make of that.

However, the French princess had her own agenda. She hoped to ease the tension caused by her aunt, Mary of Guise, was currently creating with an offer of friendship and to assure the Queen of England that her aunt was acting on her own accord and without the support of her father. She should probably add a caveat to that since her kingly father was so fickle minded. He could want peace one day and then war the next. However, Elisabeth would not be so noncommittal with her friendship.

As the Princess of France neared the front of hall, she had an evident goal, and she would not fall short in accomplishing it. One could see the determination in her piercing ice blue eyes. She was the daughter of the great Catherine de’Medici. She would not fail!

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( MARCHONS MARCHONS )
" QU’UN SANG IMUR ABREUVE "

( word count ) 660 ( status ) Elizabeth, Anne, or Both! ( outfit ) clicketh! ( place ) Great Hall of Whitehall Palace
( notes )nothing yet ( credits ) ( m u f f i n ) of Caution!

Elizabeth Tudor - August 12, 2011 03:00 AM (GMT)

Elizabeth had been woken up fairly in the morning by Kat Ashley, and she heard no reason as to why this happened. The glance Kat gave her reminded her that she did have a matter of importance to deal with that day. The Princess of France was to pay a visit, though she scarcely had any idea what they would discuss. It will most likely concern a proposal with the Duke of Anjou she thought, looking at the dresses Kat offered. She shook her head, knowing which dress she wanted to wear.

The dress was one that her mother had worn, and had been a gift to Elizabeth on her twenty-first birthday. The dress was a delicate gold, a design of leaves and roses on the bodice and front of the dress. The ends of the Boleyn sleeves were folded up at the ends, revealing a red that was a shade similar to crimson. There was embroidery on both sleeves, forming designs that resembled flowers. After she had the dress on, Elizabeth mad her way to where she had her jewels. A smile pulled at her lips as she picked up a necklace. Putting it on, she fastened the clasp before sighing slightly.

Forgoing any snood or French hood, Elizabeth elected to wear a diadem of amethyst. Kat had curled some strands of her mistress's hair, trying to give it a certain flair to equal the elegance of a visitor from France. Her shoes were a golden similar to the dress, though there was a little more white on them. Glancing in the mirror, she nodded slightly before beginning to walk out of her chambers. Her five maids followed, Kat keeping up the back. It had always been so. Katherine was either in front of Elizabeth or behind, but she always wanted to keep her safe.

As she walked through the halls, each person she passed either bowed or curtsied. To her benefit, there were two different entrances to the Great Hall of Whitehall. This was the case with every single palace in England, and possibly the whole of Europe. The Queen and her ladies made quick work of navigating the halls, coming to the back entrance of the Great Hall.

"Presenting Her Majesty, Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England and Ireland," the herald said, moving aside so Elizabeth could entered.

As she took her seat in the monarch's throne, watching as each and every courtier bowed. Several members of Court bowed lower than was probably necessary, yet Elizabeth acknowledged them nevertheless. In time, all of the courtiers had risen and gone back to talking quietly amongst themselves. No sooner had the courtiers risen, the herald announced another arrival.

"Her Royal Highness, Elisabeth de Valois, Princess of France!"

Elizabeth straightened in her seat, carefully watching as the Princess entered. Valois? Have I not read that Owen Tudor married Katherine Valois? she thought, raising an eyebrow. She watched as the courtiers bowed once more, a part of her feeling sorry for the members of Court.

She had no true idea of what this meeting would entail, but she was sure that it was going to be interesting.

Elisabeth de Valois - August 22, 2011 12:36 AM (GMT)

( ALLONS ENFANTS DE LA PATRIE )
" LE JOUR DE GLOIRE EST ARRIVE "

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There she was. Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England. ‘She most definitely is her father’s daughter,’ thought Elisabeth, inwardly smirking. The Princesse Royal had never met the English king, but she had heard stories, most of which she took with a grain of salt; however, even court gossip had some truth to it.

A part of Elisabeth was envious of the English Queen. Elizabeth was her own mistress, without a husband or father to command her. The Princess of France did not know a life that was without the guidance of a man. Her grandfather, her father, and at times even her brothers… She was at one point or another at their mercy. Sometimes Elisabeth wished she did not have brothers and that her father named her his heir. Alas it’s treason to voice such desires, so for the eldest daughter of the King of France they were merely fantasies. ‘But Elisabeth, la Reine de France, does have a nice ring to it.’ She thought with a secretive smirk.

Then as the visiting princess approached the throne, she swept into a graceful low courtly curtsey as a sign of respect for the Tudor Queen. Elisabeth’s ladies followed suit, dipping into a low poised bow with their knees almost touching the floor. For a moment, the French princess lowered her light blue eyes, completing the chivalric gesture, and then just as she was about to rise, Elisabeth risked a quick and somewhat cheeky glance at her Majesty. She was French after all. As she rose, without a flaw, the Princess Royale demurely uttered the two words that the English Queen would hear for the rest of her life.

“Your Majesty.”

Silently, the French Elisabeth stood in front of the queen, waiting for her to speak, as was the custom of the time. The princess was not one to break protocol. She knew it made her seem like a posh little snob, but quite frankly she could care less. It was how she was raised. Elisabeth was her mother’s daughter after all.

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( MARCHONS MARCHONS )
" QU’UN SANG IMUR ABREUVE "

( word count ) 339 ( status ) Elizabeth, Anne, or Both! ( outfit ) clicketh! ( place ) Great Hall of Whitehall Palace
( notes )apologies for the shortness. muse is a bit on the dry side ( credits ) ( m u f f i n ) of Caution!

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