rosclind-blog

[rosclind-blog]

frxderickb:

in his head, he does have the right of poking at her like that—he doesn’t think much of it either, treating it as something simple and not to overthink. he did have noticed, after this time together, how she felt about any attention she received. there is nothing bad about it, in his opinion, and he doesn’t bother with her tone now either, knowing she is challenging him.

“definitely. the woman who gave this country a new king, present on his first appearance?” he comments, as if those were enough of an explanation. smirking lightly and still with the globet in front of his lips, he looks away once again, eyes on the nobles who enjoyed this moment to take a better look at the queen. “look for yourself,” his tone is once again low and directed at her, “all eyes are on you,” but his own at that moment, that is.

she can not help the smirk on the corner of her lips, and it is by little it does not turn into a scoff. by the time of maximiliam's christening, when he was only a week or two old, she was healthy, but confined to a bed -- perhaps frederick's words are correct, she thinks as she ponders over them, as she would have gloated so much on the ceremony the poor newborn boy would have not received the attention he deserves. 

however, she does not feel the same at the present moment -- she was already off her confinement, so there was no particular surprise she was now present, dressed in a gown that showed only the good results of the pregnancy on her body, smiling in content to be back once more in an open quarters instead of the dungeon-like chambers she had spent the last months on. 

she does not need to look for others right now, as she knows his words are right, and instead she continues to look at him, not straying by a moment. "what of you? who is more interesting than your queen?"

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frxderickb:

there is nothing he does or says as she talks of every part of their son’s name, paused even, in a way that makes him even more amused. it probably only shows in his eyes, his features remaining just the same for everyone else to see—but it does show nevertheless. “yes, he did. as well as a baby can, that is,” frederick nods slowly, looking away from her for an instant, hand slowly dropping by his side though remaining close to her.

maximillian was a loud baby when he wanted to be, they all came to notice, wailing as any baby would—but he was a very strong boy, one that already made his father proud, and hopefully would continue to do so. “it was alright. you would’ve liked the attention,” he comments, noticing the way their guests look at them and probably talk about their queen, before lowering his sight at her once again. he pauses for a bit, accepting a new globet of wine, not breaking the eye contact. “much like now,” he finally says, taking another sip to hide the small smirk on his lips.

oh, she knew that, better than anyone who shared the little prince's blood (the wet nurses might know better, but their irrelevancy makes their part unremarkable in her head), and it filled her chest with pride of her child; the first time they had parted for long was during the child's christening, but then she had been asleep, making this truly the first time for her to be this distant from her son. with her thoughts on the newborn, she turns to her husband with raised brows, a bit taken a back by the tone of his accusation -- playful, as if he had somehow received the intimacy to poke at her like this. "would i? how so?" she asks, not one bit afraid to challenge him. "is there attention on me now, you would say?"

[rosclind-blog]

frxderickb:

it is probably the surprise of what she says that gets a light snort off him—lips curled in a gentle smile and eyes still down at her, watching her with both amusement and confusion. it’s been too long they’ve seen together and to have her words already ticking his flesh is enough for him to know that night would either be long or a torture (or both). at least until they are alone, that is.

“i believe he wanted to tell me so,” he comments, letting his hand slide down on her side and rest on her waist then. “it wouldn’t work, however. as you said… there is no use of a saint,” he adds, lifting his drink to his lips once more, sipping the rest of his wine before placing the empty globet on a tray as well. “isn’t it correct?” he reassures it, lifting an eyebrow at her once his eyes lie on hers again.

she raises her brows, before giving a shrug of her shoulders. a saint wouldn't have bore the country its new king, and that was enough to hold her on her place despite any cheekiness or any misbehaving -- and that place was above that of a woman who could be told to sit down and not to speak unless she is told to. 

"oh, i merely asked him how was the christening. of my son, the prince heir. future maximiliam the fifth." she had the name on the tip of her tongue the moment the child was pushed to her tit, and if her courtesy and her falseness had been her armor since then, her child's birth right was it now. 

"he grumbled something in german. i did not understand it." she did that a lot these days -- purposely pan out anything these rats spoke, and get lost in her own little world. 

licking her bottom lip once more, her eyes find her husband's and for a few moments they stay locked, distracted. her son's eyes were dark too, likely like one of his father's.  "how was it, though? did he behave?" 

[rosclind-blog]

frxderickb:

he may not have seen it happening, but the sooner it gets to his ears, it amuses him to no end. it is also not at all surprising, he supposes, sipping on his own wine and watching as the guests settle around just a little before rosalind herself makes her appearance.

it’s relieving to see her around once again, even though it has been barely a week since he broke the confinement just to spend a while with her. if any of the guards informed anyone else about this, he hasn’t heard of it—and neither her time locked in her chambers have increased. things had been said and others, done; it had been too long, after all, and he had missed being with her. it doesn’t matter how quiet he is, to hear her talking to him and his own fair attempts to make conversation (not as bad as they once were, he thinks) was what helped his own mind to settle and  calm.

and, now, he luckily has those back.

frederick approaches her calmly, seeing she has not yet noticed him, and places his hand on her upper back, eyes looking down at her. “i’ve heard you are still a sinner,” he comments lowly, only for her to hear, and raises his eyebrows. “but far from me to complain about such thing.”

the touch has her arching up, flinching out of habit -- not the months kept away and made willing for all sorts of probing has taken the distaste from her -- and she is ready to glare at the hand's owner when his voice beckons her to acknowledge him first. 

"frederick." she does not sigh on relief, but her features soften and it is enough sign of that (despite how she had not been able to recognize him, but she does not dwell there). "you wouldn't find much use for me if i was a saint." the look on her face might deceive in making others believe she is demeaning herself, but she did not think he was the kind of man who would need a virgin Madonna for a wife -- his physical hunger for her have told her enough. 

putting her goblet on a servant's tray, she turns her body to him, a luscious and genuinely content smile on her lips. "have you been scolded by the mighty bishop? did he tell you to put your wife in her place?" she almost purrs, her voice barely above a husky whisper--by the clearly alluring manner she spoke, one might think she could see no one but him, or that confinement has left her bare of society manners.

[rosclind-blog]

@frxderickb

it has been years since the last time she felt relieved on attending service -- despite growing under a very catholic mother, religion was not something she was keen on, nor was she comfortable with the never ending praying in her confinement chambers; thus, to attend her cleansing mass was the closest to divine worship she had done gladly (despite the begging for forgiveness of her sins she denied to do, leaving the archbishop a little discontent). all done, she didn't really care and was almost genuinely happy to be the so said hostess of a welcome back celebration -- which was something to say when loudness and crowd did not agree with her at all. yet, she smiles at a noble who crows congratulations over her successive birthing, taking a sip of wine through the yellow smile before she can look away and lick her lips.

[rosclind-blog]

frxderickb:

many have been the times he simply entered the room like that, not feeling bothered at the presence of his wife’s lady and, most of the times, barely noticing the exact moment she left. this time would be the same, had the commentary not made him lift his eyes from undoing the cords on his shirt’s collar to his queen. his eyebrows raise as he looks in the closed door’s direction, both unaware and confused with such a thing. “is that so?” he mutters quietly, looking at rosalind as she moves closer. while she had a lady to take care of her clothes, frederick seemed too comfortable to do it on his own or, at least, let her help him—which is precisely what he does, only looking down at her hands as she undoes his pants.

it isn’t at all uncommon for either of them—even with just six months being married, at least the lack of embarrassment while changing to sleep is present in their lives. even though it has been slightly different since they arrived to rome. used to sleep in the couch and not close to her, simply because nice mattresses made him uncomfortable, frederick rarely slept with his wife, letting her take his bed as he took a nap on the sofa. now, however, there is no couch… and he knows that the floor is not an option—rosalind surely would stop him before he even suggested anything like it.

“another child, huh?” he questions about her sister-in-law, lips pressed together as he looks down, not so unconsciously, at his wife’s flat belly. different from the other queen, they had not yet been blessed with a heir. their court spoke (way too much, even), and frederick was starting to feel uneasy over the pressure. his features frown as he looks up at her again, at the simple mention of meeting her brother. he doesn’t believe he would ever be at ease with the man’s presence. “no need. just curious if you are spending time with your family,” he explains then, stepping out of his pants and picking them up, only to leave it along with their other things before turning to her again, ready to go to bed with the long shirt that covered his intimacy and the top of his thighs. “how many kids do they have so far?” he plays it innocently, moving to his side of the bed and sitting down, the pillow on his back and covers over his lap.

sometimes, people began conversations over little matters that lead nowhere, for no reason; they call it small talk and, in all her twenty and something years of life, rosalind is yet to see the necessity on this. everything someone like them spoke had a hidden purpose, a layered meaning, and, although frederick is hardly a planner (much less one like her), she does not need much thinking to know what he means to bring up. the corner of her lips rise lightly, no humor in the smile, no feeling other than the pure scorn, annoyance, exhaustion -- she knew what would come next, and that was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

but her lord husband is speaking, and she must, supposedly, listen to him and give him better than a roll of eyes for an answer. she makes a grimace of distaste as she turns to walk over to bed, but once again her face is that of an angel when she lies on bed, olive orbs following him as he joins her. “three, i believe.” or four? rosalind had truly stopped counting after the ones that mattered the most, and children (or caring) were hardly her strong suit. “the queen must have adopted the swollen look as well. a lovely thing, to be that robust throughout the entire year.” the blonde doesn’t even hide her dislike over how the pregnancy weight added onto women’s bodies for their lives, all for a snotty brat. but then, the weight was the best part of it, no? when the other could end be to end up on a coffin.

pursing her lips lightly, the blonde finishes to tie and fumble with the braid and glances over at her husband. “is that a topic boring enough that would put you to sleep?” rosalind smiles, obnoxiously saccharine, bringing her now free hand to his chest.

[rosclind-blog]

nights have always been a moment to relax, to reassemble and to rest, by herself, when there was no one to see or hear or judge but herself. it has been half a year since this situation has changed, and rosalind does not let herself think on how it surprises her she does not hate the company or the warm body next to her -- frederick is different, though, she tells herself. he does not judge nor he talks much, and, well, he listens. it could be worse, she always tells herself; going blindly on a match, moving to another country, meeting a man very few people met for nearly a decade...the risks, then, were too many for her not to worry, yet she had been lucky.

the smile she greets her husband with is not entirely constructed, but she does not move an inch more, busy with the lady that tied the laces under her bust -- her fellow english woman was quite excited to be at god's capital, and at the provided variety of well...everything; but when the king of austria appeared with his imposing frame and aura, the girl was quick to finish folding the queen's dress and to excuse herself for the evening. "she is still scared of you, i believe," the blonde tells him, the amusement laced in the tone of her giggle enough to hide the light annoyance at her cousin's weak spirits.

only then the queen moves, and there's barely any malice in the way she helps him undo his pants. "not him, no. his wife was hard to miss, though." the queen of england had been blessed with a fertile womb who did not give in -- rosalind had stopped counting after the twins, the ones that always reminded her so much of her own lost one. pursing her lips lightly, the blonde finishes her task and looks up at her husband, raising a brow momentarily. "what for? should i seek him for you tomorrow?" 

w. rosalind blanchard, queen of austria   //   @rosclind​

everyday is a new struggle, a new challenge, and like many of them, this one had been one he wanted to be over since it began. he was not in war anymore. it’s been months since he was taken from the battlefield and a few others since the cease fire had started. however, in his head, it has never been over. nine years acting like a soldier, being in the front most of the times, losing his brothers in the process—nine years that changed his life and his way to see things way too much. a painful process that doesn’t fail to take his sleep away and make him uneasy around these people.

enemies, or former enemies, filled the italian court as all of them were put together to bring peace to their lands, new alliances being made in hopes of keeping things as at ease as it was possible. frederick is not against the peace, per see—the war took too much from him, it took his brothers, it made him thirst for revenge. but as much as he had wished to inflict pain in those who took his family away from him, he wishes it not to happen anymore and possibly take what he has left. to be a king is already quite the task and he is not used or happy with it—but he was the only one left, the only brother who had returned. the one who married the english princess in place of albert, as he already knew, back then, that could happen.

it’s only been months since they’ve been together and, still, there are a lot between them—and that’s evident as he enters the room, finding said wife already preparing herself to bed. frederick greets her calmly, trying to ease his mind and take the happenings of the day—casual meetings, some running into other men who’ve been at war (and were on the opposite side he was) that made things extremely uncomfortable—and walks around the room, removing his clothes so he could also get ready to sleep (or try). “have you seen your brother today?” he asks then, casual as usual, like they both seemed to have mutually agreed on their first days together, keeping the first name basis, sometimes using the titles.

[rosclind-blog]

period moodboards: Tudor Period

mine eye hath play’d the painter and hath stell’d thy beauty’s form in table of my heart

[rosclind-blog]

VOLUMNIA: Describe the biggest sacrifice you’ve made.

Shakespearean Character Ask Meme: open!

VOLUMNIA: Describe the biggest sacrifice you’ve made.

the first thing that comes to mind is their smiles – edmund and richard differed in everything, to the color of their hairs to their eyes and their ages and statures, but on their current status and the way their eyes lit up when they smiled. it’s been so long edmund had been gone, but rosalind recalls clearly how she had told herself never to suffer like that again, never to care like that again, yet when she heard of richard…if very little people knew of the depth of her pain before, all knew then, and the blonde despises to even think of it. “i went on, didn’t i?” is all she says, feeling the lump in her throat and the taste of gal, enough for her to harden her smile.

[rosclind-blog]

it was an adventure, truly, to go through the romans -- for once, she is vacuous enough not to take her own advice and to go on her own (or with a few of her maids, which was all the same). 

had it been someone, an actual person, colliding into her, maybe she would have let her mask slip and displayed pure disgust and offense at the touch -- but a dog? the smile that graces her lips is the most honest it has been in weeks, if not months, regardless of how the muddy paws make imprints on her new italian dress, or how one of her ladies shrieks for someone to aid the queen. "buka, sit." the blonde repeats (or so she imagines), in her own language, but before the dog can obey he is pulled by the owner. "no harm done. it is in his nature, after all." rosalind stretches a hand for the dog to sniff at, and it’s only after she receives his approval is that the queen rubs behind the hound's ears. "how old is he?" 

            He ran through the thick crowd of the late afternoon marketplace with random Italian courtiers giving him a dirty look.  He wasn’t wearing his best clothes nor was he entirely clean.  Not to mention he was chasing a Posavac Hound as the dog bounced around from stall to stall.  “Buka, idvam,” he called.  Eventually the hunting hound leaped up on someone looking at wares and Stefan skid to a halt so he wouldn’t bowl the poor person over.  “I’m so sorry about that he’s usually so well behaved,” he said taking hold of Buka’s collar.

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it was a task on itself for her to keep the smile off her face at the appearance before her. the princess’ fury was only as amusing as the few hairs out of place, and the flush over her cheeks -- there was no denying the girl had explored rome on her own, like the princesses in the tales. how foolish. “you might want to take a guard next time, princess,” the blonde advises the other, trying to play her smile as one of politeness rather than of derision. “things are always quite different from home.” anywhere you go, she adds in her head, continuing the convincing herself of how rome was no different of austria, or how the continuous travels took no effect on her.

“are roman merchants always so bothersome ? i could not take a single step without spices or fabric being shoved before me,” the irate princess spoke with a sigh, still getting used to being on italian soil and overwhelmed by the immeasurable crowds of the city. mihrişah never knew so many people could exist in one space. “at least in istanbul they knew when to stay away.” or at least they did during the only time she had ever gone to a turkish market – a mere two months before she came to italy. 

[rosclind-blog]

Shakespearean Character Ask Meme

ANTONY: What bad habits do you need to break? BEATRICE: What is the achievement you’re most proud of? BENVOLIO: What comes to mind when you think of peace? BIANCA: What do you want most in life? CELIA: Do you want to fall in love? CIRCE: Would you rather be loved or feared? CLAUDIUS: What is the worst thing you’ve ever done? CORDELIA: Do you consider yourself a good person? CRESSIDA: What makes you feel trapped? DESDEMONA: Do you believe that the truth will set you free? EDGAR: Do you want to make your family proud? EDMUND: Do you ever wish you’d been born someone else? If so, who? GERTRUDE: Would you (or have you) ever cheated on a significant other? HAMLET: Do you prefer to think things through thoroughly or act on impulse? HECATE: Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert? HELENUS: Do you believe in God? HIPPOLYTA: What is your biggest regret? HORATIO: Who do you love most? JULIET: What is your favorite luxury? LADY MACBETH: What is your favorite thing about yourself? MACBETH: Have you ever killed anyone? Would you? MALCOLM: What does honor mean to you? MEDEA: Do you have any quirks? MERCUTIO: Is there anyone you would die for? MIRANDA: Is happiness a choice? OBERON: Does reputation matter to you? OPHELIA: Is there anything you regret not doing? ORSINO: If you could have any material thing in the world, what would it be? PARIS: If you had the chance to rule the world, would you? PORTIA: When did you lose your innocence? PUCK: Do you consider yourself a mischievous person?  ROMEO: How far would you go for love? ROSALIND: What does your ideal day entail? ROSALINE: Which people from your past haunt you? SEBASTIAN: Is violence ever the answer? TITANIA: Do you believe in magic? TYBALT: If you could kill one person without consequences, who would it be? VIOLA: How skilled of a liar are you? VOLUMNIA: Describe the biggest sacrifice you’ve made.

[rosclind-blog]

“Your smile is almost convincing.”       “My face aches from it.”

[rosclind-blog]

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.

Lady Macbeth, Scene V, “Macbeth” (via willliamherondale)

[rosclind-blog]

her royal highness, rosalind elizabeth diana blanchard of england, the twenty five years old queen of austria. she is known for her graceful and politically sawy behavior, but sometimes also for her hateful and fake demeanor. she looks remarkably like jodie comer.

i am!!! so excited to be here oh my god. i’ve been meaning to post this since last night, but my connection is shitty so here i go,,, i’m vivi (she/her), and i’ll be playing rosalind. she’s a muse i’ve been working on for a year now, and i’m so happy i finally have somewhere to play her so pls be gentle and love my little snake. i’ll be babbling about her under the cut, so like this if you’re okay with being approached for plots!!

rosalind’s parents were not meant to be: even if a scottish princess, margaret was far too “simple” for henry’s family’s ambitions, yet it was for love they became a match to the beginning of an era to be remembered through england. their household was “unusual”, with the many children to come out of the union brought up close with love, respect, wits & arts

rosalind was the first blanchard girl, one that was very expected by her father, even if he already had a male heir. hours later came rosalind’s twin, richard and over the following years, the queen bore another two living children, along with a couple stillborns

rosalind was her father’s favorite: the crown jewels, the english rose – every little thing she was known for only made her more proud and spoiled. she received as much knowledge and classes as the heir, such was the king’s pride and blind affection for his precious girl. any complaints over her gender (and the greed & additional “sins” that is only a fault because of it) were shut on fear of the king’s fury, and, later, for public affection for the princess

unfortunately for queen margaret (who would have marked the ‘prefer a kind child than a smart one’ on that mbti test), rosalind wasn’t all that she expected. the girl had been spoiled to get what she desired, and she had a quick temper and nasty words, and often could be unkind and selfish, only caring for herself. she was very clever and very beautiful from an early age, but weren’t few the times her mother had to correct the girl on her less than exemplar (for this family) behavior

it was margaret’s eager for a big, loveful family that brought her to her demise: the queen died one year after the war began due to an illness that took her weakened body, her newborn babe and one of her children. rosalind, who have always thought her mother was foolish for that desire, gained a resentful despise for love then – she thought it was a waste of time that only brought suffering, and saw no benefit in weddings and killing herself in childbirth

shutting herself off further made rosalind the closest to her twin; him and her father were her harbor, and she theirs. even during the long years of war, the twins remained close: he was the sweet to her bitter, and he helped her gentleness come out more naturally, while she kept him from flying too high. it was richard’s balance, along with the loss of their mother, that made rosalind abandon the bratty behavior – on the outside, at least. she was kind, and smiled prettily, and poised and graceful; she knew just what to display and what to ask from certain people, to the point all of england (and likely, beyond) saw her as the perfect pretty princess as she should be. england’s white rose, the songs about her family called her now

the news of richard’s disappearance / death, about two years ago, in a battle against the spanish took a great tool on her, managing to crack a little of her mask, which allowed a lot seep out: her anger & temper, her nasty words, her impossible standards. she was all thorn and no rose. it took her months to know how to smile properly again, and to not be looked over with pity and lash out because of it

it was also richard’s death that triggered her decision to wed “the enemy”. the war had taken her father and her dearest brother, and she wanted it to be over. rosalind, who was an active counselor to her brother the king (through both of his marriages), requested to the match to be made and the accords were great aid for a new alliance to be made between the austrians and the english

even if at an age she should have changed her believes and be wed and with children, rosalind still wanted none of that, but she was no fool – she knew it would be necessary, and as much as she loved england, she would never be its queen, not a crowned one. so she took her graceful leave, making sure never to be forgotten as a proud englishwoman (which she is to this day)

she’s been wed for less than a year now, and she’s not, per se, miserable. the marriage is not loveful and her husband is not the most chummy, but he listens to her and it’s not uncommon for her words to be spoken in his voice. but with each month that goes by, she can notice the judgemental and expecting eyes over her flat belly – which rosalind would much rather to remain as such

[rosclind-blog]

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mb someday ill add something better lmao im braindead