she's seeing too clearly what she can't be; {open}

[ensorceler]

Who: Queen Anne Boleyn & YOU
What: Late night drunken wanderings in the snow. Who knows what will happen.
When: Tonight!
Where: Anywhere between the castle and in the City Royale.
Rating: PG, for now???

She feels ill. That is the only word that can describe it. Not just in her belly, but in her mind, her soul. She is ill with grief, and with longing. She is ill with knowing.

Anne stands before her glass mirror, darkened gaze staring at the flatness of her stomach. It carries nothing, she knows, but her shame. Will I never have a son? It is God's will that he ought to have a boy, for there must be a living image of his father. Of course, she thinks. Elizabeth had said her brother ruled.

But she had never said who the mother was.

Ill, ill, ill. She weeps, satin skirts wrinkled from her tight grips and tugs, so distraught there is nothing to do but tear at herself. She doesn't mar her own skin, her beautiful skin, because Henry would want her to stay beautiful. He would also want her to smile, but she cannot force it no matter how often she practices before that mirror. Even the wine doesn't help, and she drinks until her lips are stained as if painted rouge.

I am cursed. God has abandoned me, and my child.

But Anne doesn't want to think so. She wants to continue believing that this is naught but a dream. She wants nothing more than to hold feasts, to dance and laugh and be merry. To play with fairies and rule these people and be respected and loved. But she would have none of that. Not in England, and not here. She has only her daughter, and even that is now denied her. The childhood has escaped her, the ability to guide and love. Elizabeth is a woman grown now, with secrets that Anne can only dream about. And oh, does she dream, stretched out near the hearth in her drunken stupor. In her dreams, in her nightmares, the dragon eats her every time. And when she is consumed, Henry stabs the dragon through the heart as if to save her. But inside the beast's gut, she hears her daughter's scream, and she echoes the cry when the steel impales her as well. He is not aiming for the dragon, but for his forsaken wife. No, not forsaken. Null and void.

She is a bastard, and you are not my wife!

She awakens sweat soaked and shivering, gasping for breath and holding one hand over her heart, the other over her neck. Behind her, the fire has dwindled, and she can once more feel the cold creeping into her bones. But she ignores it, standing and reaching for her favorite cloak, the dark blue velvet lined with pearls. It comforts her now, and helps shield her disheveled appearance, as she steals out into the night.

Anne doesn't know where she is going, but she knows she cannot remain here. This castle is born of magic, of curses, and it's infecting her. So she seeks out the city, despite the late hour, hoping to clear her head in the frigid air. Her steps are slow, unsteady, but she carries on, her eyes unseeing while her feet blindly guide her through the streets.

Someone will have answers, or someone will be punished. For the moment she would find pleasure in either goal.

Comments

[scinlae]

She keeps her lips pursed and her expression still, she would not call this king just, but those words will never leave her lips. She knows the comfort of a comforting lie though she is loathed to use it herself, she had been fed them all her life. But it is not her story to tell, it is for another to tell whenever they see fit.

Gently she pulls Anne close, picking a random direction before moving them onwards. Dangers hidden the darkness or not, it is better to move, it gives them something to do.

"Whatever is on your mind, you may not trust me however I can assure you whatever is said will not be repeated." She is good at keeping secrets, good at pretending she knows nothing when in truth she knows much. "Your mind is heavy, I find it does the soul good to simply talk about whatever comes. It will lighten your burden."

[ensorceler]

Even in this state, Anne is suspicious enough not to blurt out the first things that come to mind, especially having calmed a bit since. Rather, let the somber melancholy state settle in, where she does too much thinking that she really shouldn't.

So her voice sounds almost distant, musing, as she finally murmurs, "My Elizabeth is nowhere to be found, and a dragon is in her room. Am I insane? Does wondering it mean I am not?"

[scinlae]

"Insane?" She stifles her desire to laugh, ducking her head to hide the smile creeping to her lips. What would she know of insanity? She returns her gaze to the queen after a moment, shaking her head. "No, no my lady, you are not insane."

But one could be blame her for thinking such. "Your Elizabeth is there still ─ you must understand that the castle enjoys to play tricks, it can turn normal human beings into another creatures entirely. The dragon is your daughter, but do not fear she be returned to proper form soon enough."

[ensorceler]

That causes Anne to immediately tug her hands away, one moving to read over her heart while the other pulls up her skirts so she can back away without tripping over them. (Not that it matters, really, her balance is less than stellar at the moment no matter what she does.)

"Now it is you who speaks insanity. Who but God could hold such power? Do you?"

[scinlae]

Yes, she thinks, I have turned a once trusted friend into a deer. She does not speak the words, it would only serve to distress the woman further and that is the last thing she needs.

"My lady, you have been brought here by means you do not know nor understand, upon arrival something was taken from you that you consider to be important. Ghosts roam the halls, and should you speak a wish it is granted for you." Morgana crosses her arms underneath her chest, masking her annoyance as much as she can. "These are facts. You currently live in a world made up of insanities, your God holds no power here, something much more powerful and much more dangerous has taken his place."

[ensorceler]

"Taken? Yes, I have heard tales of that... But I ensure you that I have everything intact."

Anne dare not admit her fear to this strange woman, however charismatic she may be. She has not been able to formally address herself as a queen since arriving. She may have discovered special roundabout ways to phrase it; loopholes per se. But they are not satisfying.

It is humiliating.

"However..." The woman steps closer again, tentatively reaching for Morgana's sleeve and support once more. "I do recall both those Merlin fellows...having an outlandish and insulting effect on me more than once. I believe they both used magic to twist my words against me, out of spite. Is this possible? Did they have such power?"

[scinlae]

Support she gives without a moment of hesitation, keeping her close to stave off the cold but allowing for the queen to remove herself from her again if she so desired.

Morgana hides the twitch of her lips, at her claim. No one is exempt from the castle's power, no one can escape the claim it has on them for simply existing in this place against their will. She has lost something for certain (much like Morgana, she who cannot recall her once beloved sisters face), time will prove that much.

"Perhaps," She cannot lie about that, as amusing as the thought is to her that the Merlins somehow twisted her words against her. "Although I must confess my doubt, they are not especially spiteful creatures." At least the younger is not, the older... well. "May I ask what words they twisted? Were they the same words?"