Marie-Elisabeth & Amelie : Gardens
 

César and Joséphine - de la Valliére suite
 

When waiting for Joséphine to wake up, César had not been sure which would turn out to be the worst; the anticipation of her waking up, not knowing how long it would be before she did, or coming directly face to face with her, anticipating the confrontation that was inevitable, and knowing he would be mere moments away from hearing things he dreaded, things that had kept him lying awake for large portions of the last two nights.

Now he knew. These moments, with her about to speak what was on her mind, although so very few, held far more distress to him than however long he had spent waiting for her to wake up, while wallowing in regret, hurt, and anxiety. Compared to this, it had been a cakewalk. Yet no matter how strong the urge to stand up and walk away to escape whatever it was she was about to tell him, César remained determined to suffer through it. He owed her that much, to say the least. He knew that, and he really did want to sort things out. And there was no way they would ever accomplish that, if he would or could not allow her to say her peace.

Thus, he willed himself to remain in his seat, staring blankly at some random spot on the floor, as Joséphine began to speak. Though within moments, as she confessed to there having been just one other kiss aside from the one he had seen, his eyelids descended over his weary eyes for a few seconds, in what might have been the sign of relief, but which might also just as well have been an increased effort to brace himself.

The truth of the matter, was that it was a little bit of both. It was indeed a tremendous relief to hear that there had been just one other kiss, no matter how hard it was to hear that months had passed since, without neither Joséphine nor Octavien breathing a word about it. But he still could not shake the feeling that there was more to it all than that, and so he had remained as prepared as he could possibly be, for something far worse.

When it didn't come, and instead reassurances of her love for César and none - at least not of a romantic nature - for Octavien flowed from her lips, joined by the gentle touch of her other hand upon his other arm, and a plea for him to believe her, his eyes opened once again, to find her on the floor infront of him, looking up at him, with that same plea written in her eyes. Gazing down at her, now unable to tear his eyes from her face, where before he had been unable to look into hers, how could he not believe her? If the fact that she confessed to something he would have never found out about if she hadn't wasn't enough for him to trust her words, the genuine emotion and sincerity in those darling green eyes was. Overcome by relief, though now feeling twice as guilty as his own indescretions had gone far beyond two mere kisses shared with the same person, César reached for her, cupping her face in his hands and leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a fervent yet somehow slow and light kiss. It might not be a welcome gesture, considering he himself had yet to apologize or even explain, but he couldn't help himself. Right then, there were no words to express what he could possibly want to say, and so his actions had to speak for him. Even though some doubts still lingered, the past two days having held ponderings far too intense and dark to be easily dismissed, at that very moment, what mattered most to César was that Joséphine did indeed love him, and not Octavien, and that she too seemed willing to try and sort things out.

Seconds later, when their lips parted, César did not recline back in the chair once more, but instead kept Joséphines face gently cupped in his hands, his forhead resting lightly against hers as he struggled to put his own thoughts into words. It seemed he had so much to answer for, he didn't know quite where to begin... and so the first thing to come over his lips, was the first thing to appear tangible, to stand out from the rest;

"I have not touched her."

'Her', of course, being Marie-Elisabeth. After having had the accusation of 'traipsing around the Palace with that Comtesse' hurled at him, he realized what Joséphine might have been thinking when for two night in a row he had forsaken his marital bed, and in this moment of clarity and insight, he also realized how it had to have made her feel, to have a 'rival' so very close, living under the same roof even, and so as it was one case where he was (fairly) innocent, though ironically more thanks to Marie-Elisabeth than himself, he needed for Joséphine to know.
And, once he had started, the rest just seemed to pour out of him;

"I will not say that the thought hasn't crossed my mind, because it has. But... she wouldn't..."

There he interrupted himself, as he realized Joséphine might not be all that interested in hearing details, considering the general idea of what she felt he had done to her had seemed painful enough. And so even though Marie-Elisabeth deserved to have him tell Joséphine that she had, in a manner of speaking, turned him down, it would just have to wait.

"I'm sorry", he thus continued, withdrawing ever so slightly to be able to look Joséphine in the eyes. "It has never been my intention to hurt you, I've never done what I've done with the intention of doing it to you. It's never had anything to do with you, or with us, and... and so I guess I never realized it would hurt you like this."

Amelie finally dared to look up at who she'd bumped into. She took a long gaze at her elegant white dress and smooth facial features and silently gasped. It looked like she was going to have a tougher time fitting in than she'd thought.
“You really ought to watch where you’re going more carefully miss. You never know who you’ll run into out here. I'm Marie-Elisabeth, Marquise de Valois by the way. And who are you". She said, and Amelie could pick up that she was annoyed by the interruption.
Gushing again, Amelie cleared her throat quietly, hand on her chest, and spoke up.
"Uh, my name is Amelie. Baroness de la Rougemont Chateau; my husband and I arrived a few days ago, madame. So sorry to interrupt your day, Marquise.." Weakly she offered a hand to shake, knowing not where to set her eyes or if that was appropriate. It was the first noble she'd met since arriving, and she was already embarrassed of herself.


((OOC: Haha, awkward turtle!))

Marie-Elisabeth & Amelie : Gardens
 

Octavien and Bella - Palace gardens
 

Making his way along the path cutting through the large patches of fresh green, in a slow-paced stroll, with Bella by his side and her arm resting daintily upon his, Octavien was starting to allow himself to relax. It was a beautiful day, with a bright clear sky above, showering everyone that set foot outside with sunlight, with life, and despite all his troubles, he couldn't help but feel as though they were all being washed off of him. He knew it was only temporary, as his troubles had yet to be resolved and it would not be easily done, but that only made him appreciate this moment of solace even more. It gave him room to breathe, to take a step back and gain some perspective and objectivity for when he would be forced to throw himself back into the tangle of troubles, duties and expectations.

What he didn't know, however, was if it was in fact the sun and the surroundings that flushed his mind of all deep and for the most part sombre thoughts, or the company. Probably a combination of the two, as one seemed to only heighten his awareness of the other. Bella, though they had only met twice prior to the current encounter, did come across as a most down to earth young woman, with an all around amiable way of expressing and carrying herself. The Prince was still wary, of course, but that was not really due to Bella herself, but rather to the experiences and wisdoms recently gained. Octavien had learned his lesson about taking an immediate liking to someone, the most unsympathetic Duc d'Lorraine and the treacherous Baroness Flight being two prime examples why he shouldn't. But even though he tried to remain careful of what he said or otherwise revealed to her, he did find it difficult not to be drawn in by Bella's affability, and the fact that she was a new arrival, and as far as he knew had yet to make friends with... well, anyone really, let alone someone who didn't think very highly of him, and/or could risk making his life difficult if they decided to try, put him yet a little bit more at ease around her. Furthermore, she also did not seem to judge him for every single detail he might be doing wrong, neither, unlike some. In fact, she seemed like the type that rather than stand around and raise an accusatory eyebrow if he did do something wrong, but not a finger to actually help, she would be the type of person to smooth things over somehow, by pretending not to notice, or even do something to make his own deed seem most appropriate.

Of course, this was all speculation on his part, and he had learned by now that his gut instinct about people was no longer to be trusted at all times, like it had been once, but... He just couldn't help but to hope that instead of constantly having his bitterness fuelled, there would be an exception somewhere. Isabella had been one, but with her gone, he really did need another to keep his head above the surface, and not sink deeper into bitterness and cynicism. And right now, he was hoping that exception could be Bella.

"Well, you certainly have my curiosity", she replied to his suggestion, then added with an ever so slight sparkle of mischief in her eyes; "I say we have agreed terms in you offer me similar aid?"

Being a gentleman, and one currently trying to form an equal and mutual friendship, Octavien wouldn't dream of asking to recieve without being willing to give in return, and so to that question, he swiftly offered a nod of agreement, as a silent way of saying 'why, of course'.

"My name is Isabella Devine", the Comtesse said, willingly taking the first step into their friendly little game, though knowingly or not, doing so without really offering something Octavien didn't already know. But she did offer one of the most undisputed forms of friendship; the permission for him to call her not only by her first name, but by what seemed to be her nickname; "Please call me Bella."

It was a gesture which he genuinly appreciated, as it obliterated the reserved distance usually lingering even between people who had known eachother for years, but never put aside their titles.

"However", she then continued. "I must disagree that you ponder too much for your own good. I think it's the sign of a very healthy mind... At least I hope so."

Accompanying those last words was a slightly bashful smile, indicating they reflected on herself just as much as they did on her perception of him, and a warm smile spread onto the Prince's lips in return. Ah, that's right, during their first meeting, she too had hinted at a tendency to lose herself to thoughts and ponderings of the past, present and future, just like the ones he had alluded to during the first couple of minutes of their initial conversation. Apparently, he wasn't the only one with a troubled mind. And quite frankly, it would have been most extraordinary if he had been. Everyone had their cross, or even crosses to bear. And, he had to admit, it did spark his curiousity even more, making him wonder what hers was. Though they were still quite far from being comfortable enough that it would not seem improper to pry, and any guesses would be wild stabs in the dark, for there was no way for him to possibly know even a fraction of what might be troubling her, nor had she given him a whole lot to go on. Her name, that was pretty much all he had to go by, and not even that told him very much, despite the fact that as a royal, he really should be a little more up to date on the who's who of European nobility. He did recognize the name, Devine, but could not really place it more precisely. When first they met, she had introduced herself as a Baroness, meaning it most likely originated from the Divine barony, an area not all that far from where Octavien himself had his roots, but he wasn't quite sure exactly how far it was. That's what he got for not paying too much attention to matters of little concern to him. Or rather, they had been of little concern to him growing up, as he had been quite preoccupied with other things. It was only once he had been sent off to court, and re-arranged his priorities, that he had started taken an interest in the nobles around him, and in Europe. And given the size of the task, it would take a while before he knew as much as a Prince would be expected to.

Though in all fairness, most Princes, most any royals really, had advisors, and other people to keep track of the nobles for them. Octavien, still left to fend pretty much for himself by the King and the Duc, had no such informant. César would have made a perfect one, he knew these things. Ever the socialite, he had always made a point of keeping track of the what's and the who's of the French nobility, as well as a few of the other European ones. But... Needless to say, now would not be a good time to ask him to share what he knew...

The thought made a faint shadow steal briefly across Octavien's face, as he was once again reminded of the one thing that was currently troubling him more than any other, but as he was determined that he did need a break from it all, to better evaluate the situation later, he soon forced it all out of his mind, and the smile back to his lips, where once it settled it returned to it's usually soft, unconstrained appearance.

"Well then", he conceded. "I shall not argue. And since I am to call you Bella, I must insist that you call me Octavien, even though I suspect there are certain people who would deem it most improper. However, should someone dare to fault you for it, just tell them I insisted. I doubt they'd be very surprised."

Having spoken those last coule of words with a certain degree of sarcasm, his tone of voice and the slightly acidic look in his eyes then changed, and he was once again back to his amiable self.

"Now, I must ask you to please forgive my ignorance", he continued, "and myself for prying, but there is something of which I can't help but be curious. When first we met, you introduced yourself as Baroness Isabella Devine, and because you did not know me, I got the impression that your stay at the Palace had been only hours long, a day at the most. Yet by the next morning, the King bestowed on you the title of Comtesse, for 'excellent services to Country, Court, and King'. While I in no way doubt that you are capable of such services, it does seem rather... sudden, for such a promotion so soon?"


(((ooc: slytherin - It was great! Very well done. Though the history itself bums me out, cuz Anne's always been my favorite. And he had her killed. :weep: (And yes, I know this all happened almost 500 years ago, but bleh. Still don't like it. *s*) )))

Bella and Octavien - Palace Gardens
 

It was a dangerous game to play. It was the art of tightrope walking, the very act of passing through the parted sea, waiting and waiting for the rope to break or for the sea to close in, devouring. Well, it would have been rather well earned, would it not? For Bella was under no delusions about her own actions – she knew why she was doing what she was doing – but she could not help but wonder whether she was somewhat delusional about the consequences that her acts carried.

The advantages were obvious. Of course, gaining the favour of the Princess was more than simply advisable. Elena would simply not accept a figurehead position and would aim for significant, if not absolute, power in some way. Thus, in her pocket, so to speak, Bella stood to gain appreciably and not just regarding the whereabouts of her father. Yes, that was the primary goal, but Bella possessed a mind that moved to see alternative opportunities for itself. If it came to a point where her father’s status ceased being the prominent indicate of Bella’s arrangement with Elena – for reasons for which the Comtesse refused to ponder over – it would not be the case that Elena simply let her walk away.

Bella had given her a taste of what she had to gain from such a conspiracy with another courtier. Furthermore, Bella had been on excellent form so far, giving Elena little reason to regret her offer or her decision. Egocentricity aside, it would be difficult for Elena to secure such an affiliation with another courtier of Bella’s accomplishment. She would probably manage, but it would be difficult nonetheless and the waiting period would probably be something Elena would rather avoid. Leaving the deal would also prove detrimental to Bella in other ways, for Elena would simply hold this over her forever. Hence, the only way was to contemplate what else Bella stood to gain from this.

The disadvantages were frightening. First and foremost was the fact that Octavien could discover their arrangement so easily. A note in Bella’s handwriting or a letter with a name mentioned, something amiss. Her Excellency was his wife after all, he could accidentally find something so easily. That would turn so easily catastrophic, for a modest Prince or no, Octavien was not likely to take such apparently flippant betrayal easily. There was also what Bella would do in this, for even if his discovery did not take the course of serendipity, if she were to befriend him, there would be the element of give and take and surely she ran the risk of telling him something she shouldn’t have. One cannot know another without the other knowing them at least a little.

"Well then,” he replied having rid himself of the small shadow in his eyes, evocative that a similar triad of thoughts had torn through his mind. "I shall not argue. And since I am to call you Bella, I must insist that you call me Octavien, even though I suspect there are certain people who would deem it most improper.”

It had been Bella’s personal opinion that many favoured Octavien for his socialist approach to the court. After all, no-one liked being reminded that they were less important. However, it seemed that the man himself had different ideas, appearing almost constrained by his own position when it came to his freedom with amicability.

“However, should someone dare to fault you for it, just tell them I insisted,” he advised to which Bella gave an accepting nod. “I doubt they'd be very surprised."

There was the slightest tinge of bitterness to that, that he knew he wasn’t conforming to the precedents, that he knew it raised considerable eyebrows and evidently he was standing his ground regardless of their invective. Yes, he was evidently rebellious at that, but it wasn’t that he didn’t care – for obviously, it had affected him somewhat. And it seemed to be something he did not wish to show, for as soon as the acerbic tenor manifested, it was banished.

"Now, I must ask you to please forgive my ignorance,” he moved on as Bella watched and listened with interest. "And myself for prying, but there is something of which I can't help but be curious. When first we met, you introduced yourself as Baroness IsaBella Devine, and because you did not know me, I got the impression that your stay at the Palace had been only hours long, a day at the most.”

Bella turned to the path before them, a knowing smile growing upon her features. Yes, that question regarding her title change then? Granted, he was quite right at being curious, but in all honestly, the only answer she could present him with was that she did it out of flippancy. Yet, it was more to do with raising her own profile within the court – networking was so much easier when everyone was already curious.

“Yet by the next morning, the King bestowed on you the title of Comtesse, for 'excellent services to Country, Court, and King'. While I in no way doubt that you are capable of such services, it does seem rather... sudden, for such a promotion so soon?"

“I simply wanted a change of title,” she admitted, turning to Octavien with slight sheepishness, a matching smile becoming her lips. “For myself, to mark my arrival at court. I know, it’s rather flippant of me, but…,” she trailed off, her eyes turning to the gravel path for a moment in search for the significance that it held for Bella herself rather than her purpose here, before she gazed back at him. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

“I hope you don’t think me too intrusive for asking,” she began slowly as a question born of her own curiosity crept into her mind. “What made you choose life at court?”

(((OOC: Hope this works for you, Atropa So sorry for the delay!

Robyn, will watch the video as soon as I get my beloved laptop back, but meanwhile, just want to say, I love Anne too! It's quite ironic that she was the only wife that gave him the type of heir he wanted. Joke's on Henry VIII )))

César and Joséphine - de la Valliére suite
 

As a young man of his time, César had learned that in life, there were many things a man could do, and would do, that a woman could not. At least not as openly as the men could. Already as a child he had learned that men, to a certain extent, did not have to marry until they wanted to, that they had the freedom of going places without a chaperone to watch over their virtue, that they could speak freely and have their opinions listened to and respected, and that they could own land and businesses without it being the result of much fuss, or tragedy of some kind. All these things, he had been told by his father as a child, and then grown up to experience them first hand himself. And he had realized that his father had been right.

It was no conundrum then, that there were other things César had observed men do, his father in particular, and taken them too to be correct, to be part of a man's life and rights, even though they were sometimes things his father had not discussed with him in great detail, or even at all. César was an observant young man; he watched, and he learned, and though he often questioned as well, as alert and inquiring minds tend to do, the answer, if lacking something more tangible, sometimes ended up being that his father did it, and seemed to be respected for it by his peers.

Such was the case of his father's extramarital affairs. Not that César blindly believed everything his father did was right, but when no one objected to what was done, but rather seemed to view it as an accomplishment, and even César's mother accepted it, it was only natural that César himself started viewing it the same way, and saw all the things that justified it, and very few of the ones that condemned it. Therfore, once he married he, much like his father, continued to appreciate the beauty of other women, and doing it up close, without feeling it had anything to do with his relationship with Joséphine. He was a ladies man, he always had been, even before he married, and so since he had the 'right' to keep appreciating women even as a married man, he did, and never really saw the problem with it. He loved his wife, she loved him, and their marriage was thriving. The only reason why he kept his affairs from her, was because he had learned that women tended to be jealous creatures, and didn't like to have 'rivals' be mentioned or seen, even if they knew they existed.

It was something César had understood, logically, but never emotionally. He knew some of the mistresses he'd had, had kept other lovers as well, and he hadn't really cared, though he did of course prefer if they didn't, for the simple convenience of it, and of succeeding to bed a woman others didn't. But jealousy? No, that was a feeling he had never known. Until he had seen Octavien and Joséphine kiss. Then, and only then, had he learned what jealousy truly was, and what it did to the human heart, and soul.

It had turned things upside down for him, tossed around his values and arguments until he no longer knew which end was up, and so when Joséphine's heartfelt question spilt from her lips, pleading for an answer as to why he had done what he had done, at first he could do nothing but simply look at her, with no answers to give.

"Then, why?" she had asked, gazing intently at him, but her tone devoid of the anger it had held when last she had asked that question. "Why did you?"

Indeed, why? How did he explain to her, now that he had felt what she must have felt for years, that he hadn't thought it was all that important, that he hadn't seen the harm? That he had thought of it as his privilege as a man? That a part of him still did? Changing one's beliefs because of a single event, no matter how earth shattering, was not something easily done.

"I don't know...", he said eventually, and reclined against the back of the chair with a defeated sigh. "Because it had nothing to do with you, or us. Because it didn't make me love you any less. Because I wanted to, and didn't see that it mattered. Because I could, and because I thought I should."



(((ooc: Have no idea if any of it makes any sense. Had a splitting headache when I wrote it. :/ )))

Amelie felt herself blush all over when her hand was politely ignored. She quickly pulled it back to her waist, and folded her hands together stiffly.
“You’re certainly lucky to have your husband at court with you.” She smiled sadly as the Marquise mentioned her husband.
"I'd like to think so, yes... Oh, so I heard. Unfortunately my husband and I seem to have missed it." Amelie hastily changed the subject, continuing the conversation. "So what are the people like here?" Looking down, she laughed shyly. "To be honest, I've never been the best at settling to new people and places." She was still rather red, and calmed down her anxious mind by gazing around at the beautiful scenery. Amelie wondered if Ralph would be gone for the whole day. This wasn't the Ralph she first knew - He'd changed since a short time after their wedding, and Amelie didn't know why.. She was just starting to feel lonely again.



((Bleh/Wow, tiny post, still getting used to things.. Haha poor Amelie & Marie-Elisabeth. What an awkward conversation!))

Marie-Elisabeth & Amelie : Gardens
 

Octavien and Bella - Palace gardens
 

Gaining a title, Octavien knew, was not an endeavour easily accomplished, and the lower rank you had to begin with, the harder it got, as the higher ranking ones were already the favored ones. Perhaps not the the nobles themselves, personally, but their families, the name itself. Many of the lesser nobles thus usually remained where they were, unless they truly did service their country, court and King in a way remarkable enough to deserve official recognition. And that was not a thing easily done. Granted, Octavien himself had succeeded, and not just in rising from one rank to another, but in actually gaining a rank to begin with, something most would deem even more impossible. But, it had been a rare occurance indeed, and would never have happened, had he not had the good fortune of coming across the Queen herself, lost in the forest, and graciously guided her back to the Palace without commenting on that very observation. And, even though it had sparked a most... interesting friendship, Octavien wasn't quite sure why she had seen to it that he was knighted; because of his deeds, or because she could not allow herself to take a more personal interest in a lowly commoner? For no matter how wealthy he and his family were, they had still been regarded as commoners.

However, while somehow earning the favor of a royal was the way most likely to earn you a promotion, it was not the only way. There was also the simple and somewhat tasteless matter of money. Bribery, really, if one was to call things by their rightful names. It was amazing what a small donation to the royal treasury would do for your career and status.

So, the question on Octavien's mind had been in what manner Bella had gained her title as Comtesse. Had she been of service to the country, the court or the King somehow before arriving here, and come to accept her reward? Had she, in that minute period of time she must have spent in court and out of Octavien's company, managed to somehow perform a deed which had impressed the King or his close friend the Duc enough for them to decide she was worthy of climbing the ranks? Or, had she simply bought her title? It did seem the most likely one, judging by the answer she gave, and while Octavien, even when still a commoner, had never considered doing it for himself, he couldn't blame her if she had.

"I simply wanted a change of title", she said, shooting him a somewhat bashful smile. "For myself, to mark my arrival at court. I know, it's rather flippant of me, but... It just felt like the right thing to do."

Hmmm... It did sound a little odd, to want a title to mark an occasion such as that, as those who bought their titles usually had quite different things in mind. Increased power, recognition and influence with as little effort as possible being the most common ones. For Octavien, that had not been an option. For him, earning a title had been the way to go, as it would give him a sense of truly deserving it, of being given something because of what he had done, and not because he simply had the money to buy it, as though it was just another commodity, and make it worth little more than a commodity.
But, he didn't judge Bella for doing it, for he was well aware that it was no more easy for a woman to climb the ranks, even if already a noble, than it was for a commoner to be granted a title. And he did doubt that 'marking her arrival at court' was the only reason for her to spending such an obscene amount of money. But as that was the impression she seemed to want to leave him with, then he wouldn't question it, for now, and so simple allowed her to continue;

"I hope you don’t think me too intrusive for asking", she said slowly, as though she was choosing how to properly word the question that was apparently to follow; "What made you choose life at court?"

At that, Octavien's thoughts immediately danced back to touch on the rather heated conversation he'd had with his parents a couple of weeks before coming to court, and the reasons behind it, and he couldn't help but to give a soft chuckle.

"I didn't", he said with a candid smile. "My parents insisted, and left me very few pleasant options if I did not bow to their will."

Glancing around briefly, he then leaned somewhat closer in a playfully conspiring manners, as though he was about to share a secret no one else was to know;

"It seems I had started earning myself a reputation", he said, with his sapphire eyes twinkling with amusement. "One my parents didn't particularly care for. Nor did some of the villagers."

Having said that, he straightened his back once more, and glanced around again, this time taking in the scenery rather than checking to make sure no one was around to eavesdrop.

"I, of course, decided to regard it as another adventure, and thus eventually agreed", he concluded. "And though it's lead me down a path with far more troubles than I was used to, and would like, I can't say I regret it."

App - Jérémie Tison
 

Name: Jérémie Tison
Title: none, page/manservant at the Palace of Light and Air, currently serving Marqés Slazar.
Age: 16
Bio: Since the age of six, Jérémie has been a servant at the Palace of Light and Air. It was only natural that he would be, after all, as he was born the son of one of the kitchen maids, with a father unknown. He was brought up around the Palace kitchen, where he was taught the various chores, and was then put to work as soon as he was deemed old enough. As a child working in a place where he was constantly surrounded by splendor and riches, but always denied them himself, Jérémie decided early on, with the usual stubborn determination of a child, that one day, he too would have a life of wealth and power, with other people waiting on him hand and foot.

Of course, as the years passed and he started maturing, he realized that such a day might never come, as a servant rising to fame and riches was unheard of. But while it did make him lower his goals a bit, it did not dampen his ambition. Oh no, quite the contrary. He was still determined to make life better for himself, one way or another, and he soon learned how. He was an intelligent and observant young man, who watched in secret the decietful games played among the courtiers, and eventually found himself be part of them.

It all started when one afternoon the Comte de Brissac set eyes on the light strawberry blond angel-faced youth, and took an immediate liking to him, demanding that the boy be made his personal manservant. And as servants had no say in the matter of their own fate, Jérémie did not object, nor did his mother. Besides, it WAS a golden opportunity for him to escape the dirty and hard labour of the kitchen, not to mention an opportunity for a slightly increased trickle of money.
However, as it would turn out, there was a darker side to the Comte's liking to Jérémie, and the boy soon discovered that in this case, 'manservant' involved quite a bit more than was the norm. From the first day, the Comte seemed rather friendly towards his lowly servant, and it wasn't long before friendly turned into TOO friendly. Within a week, Jérémie found himself a regular but oh-so-very secret element in the Comte's bed. Against his will, of course, because again, a servant, and especially one so young, was in no position to object. Thus, he suffered the abuse without a word, and as a way of surviving it, eventually got used to it, to the point where he now no longer minds it, and might even, under certain circumstances, appreciate it. Life is after all what you make of it - a lesson he learned early on - and when you realize you have no choice but to suffer through something indefinately, you often adapt to it, you make it work.

Now, to call the relationship 'love' would be a vast overstatement, but there was a certain degree of affection, on the Comte's part. Jérémie, on the other hand, could appreciate his master, but whatever signs of affection he gave, would be a game of make believe. He had long realized that if he wanted to achieve his goals, there was only one person he could afford to care about, and that was himself. Anyone else would just be means to an end. Since becoming the Comte's manservant, Jérémie had gotten a better view of the games he used to observe, a front-row seat one may call it, and he watched and he learned, slowly molding himself into a master of deceit, and exploitation.

About two years ago, the Comte grew restless, and decided to travel to Italy to visit some old friends. Friends who shared his predilection for men, and with whom he consequently did not have to constantly watch his back. Sadly, while in Venice, he fell ill and passed away shortly thereafter, leaving Jérémie with no way whatsoever of getting back home. Or so it would seem. Jérémie had grown into a resourceful young man, and considering the company he and his master had been keeping, there was sure to be someone willing to take him in, either until he had earned enough money to make it back on his own, or until they themselves decided on a visit to the French court. And he knew just where to start; Marqués Alfredo Slazar, a friend of the Comte's, to whom he had spoken rather highly of his young manservant. Needless to say, Jérémie soon found his way into the Marqués' bed as well. However, he soon discovered that while there had been a rather immoral side to the Comte's interest in him, it was nothing compared to how the Marqués sought to avail himself of Jérémie's services. Behind those dark eyes hid a scheming, vengeful mind, seeking to gain leverage on any and everyone that might possible be of use, even his own friends. And in that, Jérémie proved a most useful tool, as he had long ago learned the game of seduction, and to play it so well that the target would be under the impression that it was them that seduced the young man, and not the other way around. All Jérémie did was to plant the thought in their head, and play along when they decided to act on it. Consequently, the Marqués gained the knowledge of a few dirty little secrets that just might be of use later on.

However, Jérémie only stayed in his service for a few weeks, until the Marqués decided to travel back to Spain. Passing through France, the two parted ways and Jérémie returned to the Palace of Light and Air.

Since then he has continued working as a manservant, mostly to temporary guests at the Palace, and as servants often know alot more about what's going on within the walls of the court than do the courtiers themselves, Jérémie's 'secret' is a secret no more among his peers. Thus, whenever a noble rumoured to share the Comte de Brissac's preferences is visiting, Jérémie somehow finds himself in their service. As taught by the Marqués Slazar, he now keeps other people's secrets in the palm of his hand, and will not hesitate to use them to his own benefit, when the right opportunity presents itself. Though sometimes, if he gets impatient, he will create said opportunities himself, scheming and plotting to get what he wants. Indeed, behind the angelic face resides a devious mind of a young man who would not only sell his mother for a nickle, but probably end up stealing her back only to sell her again.

Now, as of a few days ago, he once again finds himself in the temporary service of Marqés Slazar, as the Marqués is now a guest at court, having arrived to witness the union between his cousin Elena and the Prince of France, and decided to stay around for a while, to 'keep an eye' on Elena.


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(((ooc: Sorry for the double post. And Ghanima, if there's something that needs correcting, please let me know.)))

Bella and Octavien - Palace Gardens
 

It had not escaped Bella that what she was supposed to do and what she was doing were very similar. The goal was, and always had been, to gain Octiavien’s trust, for whatever reason. Now, the preliminary reason had been Elena’s commission, but however, Bella had not reckoned on how Octavien himself could sway where her loyalties rooted themselves by being the complete opposite of what she had expected; a rather pompous royal, she had surmised, but a very courteous young man she was presented with.

However, her loyalties had never lay with Octavien, but they had never lay with Elena either. To put it in simple terms, Elena had given reason for Bella’s loyalties to take her interests into consideration. That all aside, the only place where Bella’s loyalties lay –even in the times she refused to accept the fact – was with her father. Finding him had been the steadfast priority for the past… for however long, for calculating the hours simply made her lose hope.

So, everything Octavien presented her with was currency where Elena was concerned. However, here Bella had something that was more dangerous than simple orders – something that made her envy someone like Juanita at a time like this – for she had choice. She wasn’t bound to betray Octavien, she chose to; her reasons, however compelling, had led her to make a choice.

And that choice happened to be one that was never complete. Every moment it threw itself up at her, making her question it again, every time he told her anything at all, it asked her again whether she was right – not justified, but right – in relaying it onto Elena. Here was such a moment.

"I didn't,” he admitted with apparent frankness, which again was secretly stabbing at Bella for her own deceitfulness against his seeming lack thereof. Did her honest smiles look hollow in comparison to his? "My parents insisted, and left me very few pleasant options if I did not bow to their will."

"It seems I had started earning myself a reputation,” he elaborated, having somewhat playfully scouted the perimeter for spies – the irony of it not lost on Bella – the blue of his eyes suddenly light with youth. "One my parents didn't particularly care for. Nor did some of the villagers."

Somewhat of a public scandal? Well, that did tie in rather well with what Bella had heard regarding Octavien’s youthful misadventures.

"I, of course, decided to regard it as another adventure, and thus eventually agreed,” he admitted with pride, seemingly refusing to accept that he’d been ordered to go to court – rather a similar way to Bella, though for different reasons – raising an entertained smile from the Comtesse.

"And though it's lead me down a path with far more troubles than I was used to and would like,” he carried on, to which Bella turned to him, eyebrows raised in interest. Troubles? He had risen to the position of Prince and well, yes, he had most likely married Elena against his will, but she was hardly a wife that men would pity him for. But still, it intrigued her to hear that he considered his journey thus far riddled with dilemma. “I can't say I regret it."

She gave him another warm smile in appreciation of his resilience and her own hint of understanding that it was indeed difficult. Granted, life at court for a young man – and even a young woman – on their own, cut off from family is not an easy road to take and despite where he was now, she could not argue that getting here had been effortless.

“Troubles,” she started somewhat contemplatively before an equally playful look in her eyes flashed at him over the next two words outlining the condition, “once solved, are our best mentors.”

“After all,” she began concluding her perspective with a genial smile and a small tilt of her head. “They serve to shape us, do they not?”

(((OOC: Hope this works for you, Atropa and yay! Jeremie!!! :D

Lol, Octavien, always the fashionista, he even matches the decor Nice pics, Robyn :D)))

César and Joséphine - de la Valliére suite
 

César de la Valliére was, in many ways, a very lucky young man, and in almost equally many ways, he knew it. All of his life he had been loved by those around him; parents, friends, and now his darling wife and daughters as well. He'd been blessed with wealth, good looks and charm, had been desired by women and envied by men, and had never had to suffer the hurt of a truly dire betrayal. He had hurt others, through careless words or actions, but never really been made to answer for it by someone whose methods would actually get to him. Because the only methods that were likely to do so, were those of someone he cared about, and none of the people he cared about had ever confronted him for the sins he had committed against them. Granted, he'd had his fights with Joséphine where he'd been made to eat his words, and Octavien had on occasion let slip some dissapproving remarks regarding something César did, but neither had lead the young Marquis down the path of actual hurt. Which would explain why he'd had some misconceptions regarding how he sometimes made others feel, and why when it finally happened to him, he hadn't been prepared for what it would do to him, and thus also why he had reacted so strongly. Hurt, and fury fuelled by hurt, had struck him like lightning, and he'd lost every trace of self-control. He had learned then what betrayal felt like.

Later, when he had been left to wallow in the, quite frankly, self-induced misery that lasted for almost two days, he had finally realized that he and his deeds must have made Joséphine feel much the same way. There was still a difference, in that while César had never touched any of the women Joséphine might consider friends, she had kissed one of the closest friends he had. Though in a way, that would probably make the severity of each their betrayal somewhat even, as the gravity of her choice of 'partner' measured up to the sheer number of his.

It had been a most brusque awakening, to say the least. But even though he was beginning to understand what he himself had done to her, regardless of the fact that he hadn't been aware that he was hurting her, nor ever meant to do so, and even though the realization might have caused his reasoning to go through some changes over the past couple of days, it did not erase the past, and the way he had viewed the matter then. And so, when she had asked for for his reasons for doing what he had done, he'd had to answer what his thoughts had been then. Honesty had been silently agreed upon. César had decided to stick to it, and not just because he thought what he had to say - that his infidelity had had nothing to do with her, or their marriage, and thus was not a sign of him loving her no more, or lacking something - would come as a relief to he. If they were going to sort things out, they did need to stay open and honest with oneanother. But, that in no way meant that he had not thought his answer would've caused at least some small sense of relief in her, because he had. He had indeed thought it would easen the burden for her to know that none of his affairs had made him love her any less, and that what he had done, he had done because of reasons that did not include her in any way.

So then, imagine his surprise when his words brought only an even sadder look to her face, and seemed to make her her downright unable to even look at him.

"I used to think I was the reason, and it frightened me", she said with a lowered head. "Now I almost wish it were, for then at least I could influence it."

At that, César was almost about to cut her off to protest, but just then she raised her gaze to meet with his once more, and what ended up getting cut off instead was the breath he had been drawing in order to speak. If this was how she felt, he had to allow her the chance to say it. But did she really not see that influence it was what she had already done? By revealing to him that she knew about his affairs, and how much she was hurting because of them, she had already caused a change in his way of viewing it all. No matter if he'd been hurt or not, or rather because of it, he had been taught his lesson, and he doubted very much that he would ever look at another woman with that desirous appreciation, and not see the image burnt into his mind's eye, of the look on Joséphine's face down by the lake the other night, and of her tears.

"I know I cannot force you to be faithful", she continued, "and if I tried you'd only find other ways to conceal your mistresses from me. If it must be, know now that I prefer honesty. I won't lie, or pretend I don't wish you were mine alone, yet that is a decision only you can make. More than anything, I need you, César, not only for me, Adèle and Angélique, but because it's very likely that someone else will soon need you too."

While speaking those last couple of words, her hands found their way to her abdomen, and César's eyes followed, coming to rest there for a few seconds, before finding their way back to hers. He wasn't quite sure what to address first; the fact that she seemed so unaware of how much it pained him to know he had hurt her, that she thought he actually intended to carry on like before, sans the various 'excuses', or that she seemed to fear that for whatever reason, he would not be there, a child on the way or no.

"But...", he started, still not quite sure what to say, until it was coming out of his mouth. "Joséphine... I'm here. Don't you see that? I'm here, and I always have been."

Though a moment later he fell silent, in what appeared to be contemplative and somewhat guilty afterthought, since obviously according to her, he might not have been.

"At least I've tried to be...", he added slowly.

Octavien and Bella - Palace gardens
 

One might think that after his recent experiences with various people, Octavien would be hesitant to speak about his somewhat colorful past, and the near scandal that had been the reason why his parents had decided that spending some time at court to mature and learn about responsibility, among other things, would do him alot of good. But, in that case, one would be wrong. Octavien knew that, especially as Prince of the kingdom, trying to hide or deny the rumours that were already circulating back home, would be in vain, for sooner or later, they would reach the court somehow, had they not done so already. Rumours did tend to travel fast, and with him now rising to be part of the royal family, the gossipers back home would spread what they 'knew' of the new Prince far and wide, telling it to anyone who would listen. And besides, given the current circumstances, there wasn't much those particular rumours could do to harm him. In fact, if anything, they would be likely to do quite the opposite.

So, while it might seem as though he was sharing a little more than most would deem to be wise, he still remained rather heedful of what actually passed through his lips. He had learned his lesson, and he had done it the hard way, and so would not put his trust in the first person to come along. No matter how beautiful and amiable they might be. However, that did in no way mean he couldn't be genuinly friendly, or enjoy good company, as well as ever so carefully test the waters with those he could see himself befriend on a level that went beyond mere acquaintance, should they prove to be worthy of his trust. For eventually, someone who proved that there were exceptions to the mass of conniving, backstabbing courtiers, did have to come along, no? And hopefully, it would happen sooner rather than later. Because Octavien really did appreciate Bella's company, very much. She was gracious, humble and down to earth, and one could actually hold a perfectly casual conversation with her. Indeed, she seemed a gem amongst rocks already. She seemed to be not only aware of the troubles paving his way up to the point at which he was now finding himself, but acknowledging them as such as well; the rise from being an untitled man to being the Prince, all within a mere few days. Having been at court for only a couple of months and thus not having had time to form solid friendships before advancing so far that now every new acquaintance could not be trusted to not harbour ulterior motives. And, of course, the death of his first wife, followed so soon by the marriage to his second. Indeed, it was not hard to see that Octavien had every reason to consider his existence a rather troubled one.

"Troubles", Bella started after giving the subject a few moments of thought, and continued while giving him a glance similar to the blithe one he had shot her when revealing his reasons for coming to court, "once solved, are our best mentors. After all, they serve to shape us, do they not?"

The last couple of words saw a warm smile claim her lips; one that drew a similar, albeit just a hint more melancholic one from Octavien's as well. She did have a point, he had to admit, for while he didn't necessarily enjoy his troubles, he did have enough sense to appreciate them, to a certain extent, as they did leave him with valuable experiences, regarding life, other people, and most importantly about himself.

"That is true, Comtesse", he said, and gave a slow, contemplative nod, as if even though he agreed, it was not in full. "That is true. But, unfortunately, it's not always for the better."

((ooc;; Heyy everyone x]] I know I've been gone for a while now, but as real life has calmed down some, I really want to get back into the Court. Recently, I've had a lot to get on with, as well as moving house to a different part of the country. I've missed it here, and as soon as I'm finished taking some pretty pictures in-game I'll have a new app up.

I've definately missed it here, and because the Court never seems to quiet down I don't think Roseline will be coming back, so I'll know as little as someone new xPP

Glad to be back guys x]] ))

Bella and Octavien - Palace Gardens
 

It was a sort of a dawning feeling that in the basics, everyone was the same. That time had progressed for too long to continue its originality and hence all that was will be again. In that case, what were troubles? Small diversions, small acts of randomness to food everyone into thinking that perhaps they truly were that different? Just momentary tributes of despair then, to prove, against all logic that this time, against all odds, things were completely exclusive and thus, perhaps irredeemable.

However, though the impossibility of elucidation in the case of problems themselves was a thin myth, there was an element that did indeed give the events a worthy existence of their own, inimitability. The people involved were always inimitable. The single traits they possessed were often shared with countless others, but the compilation for the whole was one with no match. Hence, though each problem had repeated itself countless time before, the players were always different, and hence, the outcome was beyond the reach of monotonous prophecy.

Octavien, to Bella, seemed to be the most delightful young man, and her words to Elena, ‘the People’s Prince’, were truly justified. He was modest without being embarrassingly humble, approachable without desperate invite, dignified without grandiosity. He was everything a Prince should be without everything Princes were feared to be. Yet, it was a small trick of life that perfection, where it was, often hid a darker element. Octavien could not have risen to his position without a few tricks, Bella knew. The question lay in what these tricks were and whether he knew truly what they did.

"That is true, Comtesse,” he gave slow concurrence with a poignant smile, Bella noticing silently that he had reverted back to using her title. "That is true. But, unfortunately, it's not always for the better."

This drew a small flash of curiosity within her eyes, that he had considered his changes – granted, judging the ones she knew of – being for the worse. Ascension to the throne – albeit currently incomplete – was hardly a matter for lamentation. Though, perhaps it was not the end itself that he begrudged; perhaps it was the journey. After all, the journey could often change the goal, or at least the taste of victory, could it not?

Though, Bella’s contemplations regarding his personal circumstances aside, she considered his words in a more universal perspective. Yes, indeed it was true that not all change was for the better, in fact, she knew that all too well. After all, sometimes she felt that it simply wasn’t worth it anymore to search the ends of the Earth for a man who simply did not recognise that such a search was effected, or worse yet, revelled in its avoided fruition… such thoughts were quickly dismissed; Bella was in too deep to give up now.

Hence, there was her strong belief that with change, though the incipient storm could be devastating in it’s wrath, the calm following offered renewal.

“Very true,” she conceded with a slight tilt of her head as she reflected the words once more before deciding that her feelings over it stood firm and her agreement with his beliefs were not absolute. “At least, not at first.”

(((OOC: Hope this makes sense, Atropa, basically wrote it on a burst of inspiration (:D), but not sure if it's even vaguely coherent...)))

Brigitte De Royan [App]
 

Name: Brigitte De Royan
Title: Untitled [Baron's Daughter]
Age: 23
Bio: The middle child of a well off, and overtly ambitious family, Brigitte was often left looking after her younger siblings and always in the shadow of her older ones. Overlooked during her childhood, Brigitte took the ability of blending into the background onto her adult years. None of the influencial nobles that her father had pushed his three beautiful daughters on remembered the middle child, and Brigitte, to her dismay when she allowed herself to dwell on the fact, had gotten used to it. Though she had, perhaps more than any of his children, inherited her fathers great ambitions Brigitte found that she couldn't act on them in her small town in western France.

Other than the small dark spot on Brigitte's life, she had a privelleged childhood. She had as many toys as she could imagine, and her siblings were always avaliable to play with. The children could be found all over the large country estate that her father owned, and Brigitte often imagined him suiting the role of someone of a higher class, something she later grew to realise as what he wanted to portray. All five were educated, and the three girls were spoilt by sharing their brothers' tutor for many years. She adored being able to dress up in gorgeous and extravagent dresses for the many parties her father held, and then later for the many balls that she was taken to. Now, with both of her sisters married off to influencial men, and her brothers gaining work Brigitte found herself the only child left in the country home. Not for the first time, she had a burning desire to get out and become something more. Not for the first time, she wished to go to the Court of Light and Air.

Now, Brigitte faces her bright future at Court, a dream that she has had for many years. Yet, do as she might to cover it, apprehension clouds her vision. Though she has buried it deeply, the self-doubt that came from being second, third, forth and usually last to be mentioned, ever nerved her. Her mothers parting word to her had been to be confident in herself, and she knew to succeed she must portray it. But the seed of doubt of herself was there and she realises she must cover it, completely to survive, and make it at Court.

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