edward plantagenet.

                         hardly the dearest of kin,  edward was comforted by the tidings of his brother’s health and jane’s personal assurance thereof.  after all,  a singular weak link in the plantagenet vine could very well prove to unravel the entire branch.  ‘tis was an unfortunate truth that their father,  God rest his soul,  drove himself mad in driving into his children’s skulls.  ❛  i am glad to hear of such,  there is no better panacea for the soul than a devoted wife.  ❜   the mention of his nephew caused edward’s lips to upturn,  a ruddy-cheeked cherub coming to mind.  ❛  arthur.  how does he fare,  i wonder ?  i long for the days when we might expect him at court  ––  perhaps to be joined by my own scion in the coming months.  ❜

           ❛  You have my assurance that I shall always devote myself to making sure my husband’s soul is soothed. ❜ It was far from a lie. Although Jane knew that George did not eclipse her entire world, he was not the only light in her life. A far more powerful love had sprung from her chest the moment Arthur was born, and she was certainly made different by it. The world would be a golden one, for her darling boy.  ❛  If I had my way, Arthur would never be parted from me. But I am told court is not the place to keep a babe, sadly. But I do hope he shall come for a visit very soon, his charge tells me that he is now holding up his own head       he’s going to be a smart boy, ❜ Jane stated proudly, eyes sparkling with unbridled joy.  ❛  I know Arthur will welcome his cousin, I imagine they will be friends.  ❜ Jane thought it was far better to speak as though the King’s son was an inevitability, rather than casting any doubts with maybe and perhaps.

john of aragon‌.

       “ as do i, it is amazing what people are willing to speak of when they have had one or two cups too many and i would prefer to bear witness to it opposed to contributing my own embarrassment. ” he bears a guilty sort of smile, though his tone held much more jest than it did any sign that he was searching for the embarrassment of another, as john turned his shoulders and stance so that he more faced towards the woman but not so much that he would close off the rest of the room. “ your memory serves you well then, yes, i am new. the court of aragon is usually my home and i confess that this would be the furthest i have travelled to the west. given your expertise on her attendees and how you command the room, i would be quick to assume that you are much more familiar with the english court than i? ”

         ❛  Aragon, you say?  How does our kingdom compare to your own?❜  ❜    she questioned out of curiosity. Her brothers by marriage could argue about the grandeur of England and it’s superiority, as though they are too bright to be eclipsed by anything. Jane was never so naive.  ❛  England has always been my home, although many summers have been spent in France. My French mother always encouraged me to understand both sides of my family tree.  ❜ Jane’s mind was whisked away to the memories of her time across the channel, with some of her fondest friends.  ❛  It would be prudent for me to introduce myself, no?  I am Jane Rochford, Royal Duchess of Sussex. My husband is one of King Edward’s brothers. ❜

Lady Mary Tudors green-brown gown from The Tudors 4x06

edward plantagenet. 

                         although the match was doubtless steeped in and borne of a need to forge ties,  edward had been mildly charmed by his brother’s bride  –  hand selected by the privy council amidst a sea of pastry-faced,  lily-livered courtiers.  tongue sharp and gaze haughty,  edward could only presume her assimilation into the royal family’s good graces was one taken with ease,  and certainly whatever attracted the least limelight was appreciated by the king in this current climate.   ❛  i do not know of his penchant for sweet things;  after all,  he is wed to eleanor,  who is more often sour than she is sweet.  ❜  edward’s lips lifted in subtle jest,  masked by the silver rim of his goblet.  ❛  they are tolerable,  most of them,  the others are french.  and my brother ?  are his spirits well,  jane ?  i trust he is not being over exerted.  ❜

           The Plantagenet seed had been scattered all across the realms of men, from England all the way to Russia, ready to watch the flowers of their dynasty grow. Jane always knew that if her husband were the second son, she may not have enticed his passions in the way that she had, for a foreign match was surely more profitable. But alas, she found herself in a uniquely powerful position for her own family. Jane smirked at the King, acknowledging his words,  ❛  Your sister is a formidable woman, ❜  she mused, snatching a goblet from a passing server. One goblet of wine would not muddy her senses.  ❛  George is well taken care of, your majesty. His happiness is paramount to me.  ❜ It was both a blessing and a curse that the one thing that she could not lie about was her love for her husband. Her mother always cautioned her on being smarter than that, but her heart had not listened.   ❛   I thought I could love no other more than my husband. But I believe that both our hearts are made bigger by Arthur’s arrival. ❜

john of aragon‌.

        “ I find that sweet things can often be a comfort for many, be it to simply distract the mind or to offer momentary comfort. To initiate conversation too it would seem. ” John was grateful to retrieve a cup of wine from a passing servant, thankful that there was a conversation to be found that did not surround sorrow and condolences. Of course, the reason for being there was one full of sorrow, they were there to mourn a life, but after a long journey it was breath of fresh air to speak on something so simple. “ I suppose sweet things are just as satisfying as wine without being so intoxicating, no? ”

          ❛  That would depend on the occasion, ❜  Jane responded softly, while a careless smile quickly passed over her bowed lips.  ❛  But I do like to have my wits about me, particularly if everyone else has drunk too much. They are often careless with their words. ❜  The result of a melancholic mood would be ale flowing, empty flagons of wine, obnoxious hiccups, and spilt secrets, which the teller would forget revealing come sunrise. That was one of the reasons why she had a preference for honey cakes over rich wine, although she held a taste for both. Her dark eyes drifted over the man, quick enough that it could not be deemed inappropriate.  ❛  You are new to the English court?  I do not believe that we have met and I never forget a face.  ❜

JANE ROCHFORD, ROYAL DUCHESS OF SUSSEX.

edward plantagenet.

                        ––––   Margaret Plantagenet’s death had taken a sour toll on the morale of court and gave ammunition to those stray bayonets who dared to challenge the Plantagenet lineage.  And yet Edward was assured this was not to be distressing;  indeed it had worked to the king’s favour.  Mourning gave way to a laying down of arms and armistice to fealty.  A day had not passed since the king received word from foreign dignitaries and embassies sharing their condolences on behalf of their ruling masters,  and court richly benefited from the presence of neighboring royals.  “ It certainly is a wonder what grief may cause us to do,  sister.  ”  Straying his gaze from his sister-in-law,  Edward took an appreciative glance of his court.  “  My advisors say they are a favourite of the Russian tsar’s.  Have you had the pleasure of his acquaintance? ”

            It was not unnatural for Jane to suppose that others might envy her position. The Rochford’s held an abundance of wealth, most of which came from her mother’s weighty inheritance, but a rich girl needed a title and her family pushed her to reach. The King of England was her brother-in-law, and it made her feel powerful. She smiled at Edward with her usual charm,  ❛  Do they? I cannot say that I have met the Tsar, but if he has a penchant for sweet things, then the I am certain the conversation would not run dry, ❜  Jane decided, popping another grape into her mouth. Jane had a talent for conversation, it was one of the reasons why she was allowed into Mary’s inner circle during her years of girlhood.  ❛  How do you find your guests, brother? ❜    

I’m privileged to call you my wife.

(Lorenzo and Clarice moments requested by anonymous)

Favorite Costumes

From: The Tudors

Character: Kathryn Howard

péronnelle de la trémoille.

péronnelle  had  risen  just  as  the  english  sun  broke  through  the  grey  skies  above  the  royal  palace,  hands  tasked  with  the  perilous  duty  of  dressing  her  queen  for  a  day  of  ceremonies  to  honor  the  deceased  matriarch  of  house  plantagenet.  each  dress  was  carefully  unpacked  from  the  wooden  trunks,  fingers  skimming  pass  bright  colors  of  celebration  to  settle  on  ones  more  attuned  to  the  gloom  that  weighed  upon  england.  it  had  been  strange,  to  look  pass  her  own  gowns  of  light  silk  and  daring  necklines  for  the  high-collared  fashions  of  the  english  but  she  could  not  have  it  be  said  that  the  french  were  disrespectful  during  such  a  time  and  so  swallowed  her  own  desire  to  appeal  to  the  eye  of  many  by  choosing  an  attire  more  fitting  for  a  nun.  though  not  the  première  dame  d’honneur,  she  made  her  own  rounds  nonetheless,  making  certain  that  the  ladies  were  behaving  in  a  manner  that  flattered  their  king,  unwilling  to  admit  that  she  felt  completely  out  of  her  element  within  the  foreign  court.  full  glasses  of  rich  wine  caught  her  gaze  and  péronnelle  quickened  her  stride  towards  the  banquet  table,  hoping  to  find  some  courage  in  the  deep  swirls  of  fine  vintage.  ❝  the  generous  flow  of  wine  is  most  expected  and  appreciated  at  such  a  time  but  i  have  not  heard  of  sorrow  being  quenched  by  sugary  treats  …  is  that  an  english  custom  ?  ❞  tongue  was  bitten  to  stifle  any  following  remarks  as  she  chanced  a  closer  look  at  the  woman  who  spoke,  heart  swelling  with  memory.  ❝  lady  jane  ?  god  strike  me  if  i  am  mistaken  but  i  would  not  forget  your  face  so  easily.  ❞

             Jane had not anticipated happiness. Despite the at times challenging relationship which she had with the Queen Grandmother, she had respected the woman and thus felt the absence of her presence in the grand hall. But a smile as was struck across her features, as she inclined her hair towards the fair-haired woman who was familiar to her.  ❛  Ma chérie, Péronnelle !  ❜  she gasped in half-shock, hands outstretched to capture the woman’s own. It had been some time since she had visited France, but she remembered her time there well. It had been an education. It was unsurprising to her that her mother had always been so silken with her words, for everything in France had a finesse to it.  ❛  I remember you well. You are a welcome face in a sea of misery. ❜

queenmcry‌:

Home, sweet home. She missed England, but once she returned to the castle she grew up in, everything seemed strange and odd, as if the place have forgotten her. The walls were colder, her books - displaced, a favourite chapel - closed. She felt a stranger in her own homeland just as much as in France.

Mary was walking around the chamber that used to belong to her grandmother, Margaret Plantagenet, the matriarch of Europe, as she was known among the royalty and nobility.The books, the seal on the desk, stil smeared with red wax and ready to use, silver crucifix above the bed : it looked as if her grandmother has left for a moment and will be back to soon. Only a thick veil of dust on the furniture denied that. 

“ If you could only be here… help me, guide me … “ she murmured, taking one of the letters from the desk - it was from Mary herself, in which she asked exactly for that - advise. Margaret never managed to write back. 

Absorbed by her sorrow Mary didn’t notice someone come in…  

             Her footsteps were light as she navigated the familiar walkways, but there were no bright gowns to swish around her ankles. Instead, she was shrouded in black, a marker or respect as the whole court remembered Margaret Plantagenet. News had reached her of Queen Mary’s arrival, and Jane would be lying if she said that it was only out of duty and politeness that she sought out her husband’s sister. 

Entering the old chambers, which was void of any light or life, she saw the familiar sable hair and petite stature. ❛ Mary, ❜ she whispered, nodding her head to the guards which stood outside the chambers. It was clear that her sister was in need of a moment away from the rowdiness of court.   ❛ Oh, my dear, I wish we were seeing each other again under better circumstances, ❜ Jane said in a regretful tone, while she stepped forward to embrace the other woman. In many ways, things were easier when they were young girls. Nothing gave Jane greater pride when she was a young girl than being one of Mary’s ladies in waiting. 

Max Irons and Margot Robbie in Terminal (2018)

          It was as a result of death which they gathered, but the court appeared all the more alive for it. Every corner of the room was filled with warm bodies, all huddled in small circles, muttering to one another in barely decipherable tones        while all around the room her own ladies had been placed, positioned to listen to the whispers of others and report back to their mistress. With a sigh, Jane plucked a single grape from the silver tray,  ❛ I must not be the only one who finds eating sweet things to be a comfort in times of sadness, otherwise, they would not have prepared so much food, ❜  she pondered to the courtier beside her, while she cermoniously popped the grape into her mouth. 

eleanor plantagenet.

          for  years  eleanor  had  longed  for  a  reason  to  return  to  england.  she  had  grown fond  of  russia  to  be  certain,  but  despite  how  much  the  court  had  grown  in  grandeur and  excess  under  her  influence,  england  would  forever  be  her  home.  it  was  but  a  pity  that  she  returned  under  such  mournful  circumstance.  whilst  there  was  an  element  of  truth  behind  the  notion  that  the  great  margaret  plantagenet  had  surpassed  her  expiration  date  by  quite  a  few  number  of  years,   leaving  her  with  a  somewhat  of  a  cantankerous  nature,  she  was  still  her  grandmother  and  eleanor  deeply  mourned  her passing.  ❛   i  do  take  some  comfort  in  the  thought  that  she  is  with  god  now,   however  ––––   good  lord,  what  a  heinous  tapestry.    ❜  eleanor  trailed,  her  nose  wrinkling  in  blatant  distaste  to  the  choice  of  decor.   

           There was an absurd clash in the sombre mood which had festered following the death of Margaret Plantagenet, and the fanfare that was brought about by the arrival of foreign royalty. While she had not always been in agreement with the old woman, she had respected her for the force which she had been, and so did her best to look appropriately mournful following her passing. Observing Eleanor’s entrance, Jane made her way over to the flaxen-haired Queen, weaving between the growing mass of courtiers to reach her target. Upon hearing Eleanor’s opinion, she suppressed a smile,  ❛ I do not believe that my lady grandmother would have liked it, ❜ she commented, referring to Margaret with the courtesies which had been asked of Jane when she was wed to George.  ❛ Strangely, I take comfort in that, almost as though I can hear her voice. ❜ With a dismissive hand waved at her own thoughts, she offered Eleanor a sympathetic smile,  ❛ How was the journey from Russia?  ❜ 

❝ ⤚⟶ ENGLAND, 1458… can’t you see JANE ROCHFORD, the DUCHESS OF SUSSEX from ENGLAND coming this way? they are at best POLITICALLY SAVVY, and at their worst JEALOUS. whilst residing in england, their ambition is to PUSH HER HUSBAND TO GAIN MORE LANDS, TITLES AND WEALTH. SHE seems to remind everyone of LILY JAMES & RARE JEWELS, TEMPTING DANCES AND HARDENED MARZIPAN. ❞ 

The Rochford family were moderately popular in English society and around the court. Their wealth was ever-growing, but their power was limited. Her father was a well-respected individual, even-tempered and intellectual, and her mother had been a French noblewoman with a bounty of money. Their marriage was forged on love, a rare commodity for the time. Her father had been visiting friends in France and met her mother, a woman who certainly knew how to use her words. From their love, they bore seven children, six boys and one very precious jewel - Jane. 

There was a dangerous sparkle to Jane’s eyes and despite her demure appearance, there were many thorns which were concealed by the soft petals of her porcelain skin. As a child most found her sweet and endearing, her mother made certain of that. Throughout the years, Cosette de Ghent gave her only daughter many lessons on how to navigate the world. Her mother demanded her father to grant Jane to attend the same lessons as her brothers, while still learning feminine skills which were expected of her. 

Jane had a talent for languages, she spoke French as though she had lived them, the lilt of her mother’s voice making it all the easier. She moved with the grace of a swan and learned when it was appropriate to hold her tongue. Jane found the perfect balance between being a charming woman, and using what was considered to be a man’s mind - but she believed she was far more clever than many of them. Cosette sent her daughter to court when she entered her teenage years, to be a part of one of the Princess’ household. 

Her beauty was often remarked upon, and many dances were offered to her as feasts. Cosette would often send her letters informing her of the requests which had been sent to her father for her hand. He declined them all. John wanted the best for his only daughter, and he knew that while he was only a Baron, she could do much better for their family.

It would have been a lie to say that she was surprised when George Plantagenet started to show her attention. For a while, she had been subtly watching him, smiling coyly and learning all she could about the Royal Duke of Sussex. They were close in age and she believed that he was in need of a wife. He felt like security, and she had always had her eye on a prize ever since she was a little girl.

On her wedding day, Jane felt like a queen. It was a resplendent affair, her gown was gilded and sapphires shone from her swan-like neck, she laughed as her husband danced with her and subtly smirked at the courtiers who scowled at her fortune. She was once warned that once she had a taste of power, she would naturally only crave more. Her fingers had reached out to touch the heavens, and she desired to push her husband even closer. 

Her marriage was first and foremost a partnership. However, she had always felt things deeply and much to her mother’s chagrin, found herself falling for her husband. Which made her eyes grown furious with envy, when she heard other’s speak of her husband’s attractiveness. She would rain down hell if he even dared to shame her.

Giving her husband an heir felt like security like she was fixing her position as a Royal Duchess and proved that the seed of the Plantagenet was still strong. She had thought to name her son Edward, but she could know if the King would feel honoured by his nephew having the same namesake, or bitter that he did not have a son of his own. Instead, her son was named Arthur. 

After performing her duty as a wife and woman, Jane turned her attention back towards her family’s power. She wanted to make sure that George began to push his brother for more land, and prestige within England. Especially since it is expected that the Infanta of Aragon shall marry William, and be ahead of her in the English court, for the only woman to currently outrank her is Queen Catherine. 

Fashion in a galaxy far, far away : Naboo nightdress and robe