brygidaxbandura - Tumblr blog

[brygidaxbandura]

crwnsown‌:

“i have noticed that in my time,” he said with a soft laugh. “i have been painting for many years, but sadly today was not such a lucky day.” he looked over at her. “i hadn’t any ideas, but maybe i should paint you, if the call is for beauty.” that would appease her, all the young girls enjoyed being called beautiful. 

he shifted to let her see the blank canvas. “i truly had no idea to begin” he said demonstrating it. 

@crwnsown​

“Such easy flattery,” Brygida mused, moving carefully ‘round to the opposite side of the painter, peeking at him from behind the canvas. In days past, the adulation would have been more than enough to raise her spirits, but now, they did little. Despondency was an unfamiliar emotion, one that the princess did not enjoy. “If you insist, I shall, but you shall have to ask me nicely. Otherwise I’ll leave your little still life.” 

[brygidaxbandura]

crwnsown‌:

carlos’ hands tapped the canvas that had been sitting in front of him. he had been struck by the urge to paint, something that had lost him since he’d set up. as a child he had never had an issue with the creation of things. he’d sold paintings and portraits constantly. but now, the image never came. so he sat there tapping a little bit of paint on the canvas chewing on his lip. he’d hoped not to make a scene until he noticed a person watching him. he hoped to welcome them over, by offering them a smiled, calming his affect. 

@crwnsown​

“If you are waiting for the painting to make itself, I think you will be waiting until the end of ages,” Brygida offered, unsure mirth lacing the sentence. “I had hoped to see something beautiful but I daresay, this emptiness is disappointing.” 

Standing slightly behind the would be artist, she peeped about the set up to try and see what his subject was. 

[brygidaxbandura]

buonoroberto‌:

His mind was already making plans while the young princess was answering the questions nervously. Which one of his sons should he introduce her to? The youngest seemed like a rational choice because of choice but not because of his nature. To be a young unmarried princess was a dangerous business. Or was she trying to be the next English Queen? That Protestant witch. ‘Don`t talk so badly about yourself, Your Highness, I am sure there are plenty of things you are good at. Children? Horses? Dancing?’ But was she really a good choice? How much did he really know about Poland? But perhaps he was planning way too much, still, he was determined not to let her go out of her sight. ‘Do you like music so much? There is going to be a small entertainment for my family and my daughter always insists on us having music. Perhaps so she doesn`t have to listen to her terrible father.’ he smiled. ‘You must come.’ 

@buonoroberto​

These small doses of fatherly affection were blinding, tearing at the softest parts of her heart, where she missed her father most. Such compliments when for the past few months she seemed to receive nothing but condemnations! Scared she might burst into flame right there, Brygida placed a cool hand to her face, feeling the chill from her fingers sink in quickly. 

“Oh,” she puffed, helpless but to stare at the king, eyes beginning to kindle with energy. “I have no experience with children I’m afraid, I have only my elder brother and no younger siblings. Um. But! I do adore horses; riding is one of my favorite past times though I fear I haven’t been able to enjoy it as much as I would like. My mother fears I’ll break my neck-,” 

Such exuberance had been lacking for months and now that she’d a taste of the excitement again, she was determined to cling to it. Words continued to pour.

“And I adore dancing, who wouldn’t want to wear a pretty dress and spin about the floor for hours on end? Though I suppose you wouldn’t want to wear a dress sir, that’s - I didn’t mean that! Um.” 

Her stumbling left room for the Italian king to offer his invitation and Brygida beamed. This would sure make her family happy, such a prestigious request. “I would be delighted, sir, truly! When shall I join you?”

crescendo.

[brygidaxbandura]

buonoroberto‌:

‘I will’ he promised 'or maybe you could tell that to him once you meet him?’ It was a question said in jest, he imagined his three sons meeting this creature, how differently would each of them react, it made him laugh. ‘It is very nice to meet you, Your Highness’ he bowed in return. He did not wonder whether she was lying or not after all a young girl like her would easily overlook someone like him. He would not blame her but she was humorous. Less poised, less stiff and she wasn`t trying to charm him or manipulate him.  ‘Oh no, not at all. Please do not go and tell me more about yourself. Where is your husband, my Lady? And is breaking the instruments the favourite pastime of yours?’ He smiled. 

@buonoroberto​

“Meet...him?” she parroted, finally releasing from the extended curtsy, legs aching slightly as they moved. “Um, I’d be honored, Majesty, to meet your son? I don’t think we’ve been introduced as of yet.” Brygida goggled in wonder as he bowed to her and her eyes whipped to the left and right, almost needing to confirm the action with anyone else who might be present. 

But there was no one. Fiddling with her hands, she took a deep breathe, attempted to re-center and offered the man a smile of her own. “Um, surely there is not much to tell, I’m not very interesting. Or married. I don’t, ah, break instruments,” Here her hand gave a little wave to the fully intact harpsichord. “I was just. Overzealous. I’ve felt irritable as of late and was attempting to...feel...less so?”

crescendo.

[brygidaxbandura]

buonoroberto‌:

He chuckled, almost, he could stop himself in time. She was so cutely awkward. Surely a girl her position should know how to curtsy but he always adored those wildflowers who didn`t go with the flow - those untypical princesses, girls that wanted to be INDEPENDENT, that word would never be pronounced with ease. He bowed his head a little, appreciating the curtesy. ’Everything is well. I am sure that once he finds out it was your beautiful hands ‘ He didn`t want to scare her, though he could, he held all the cards in his hands {position, language, homeland}.  ‘But it is me who must apologize, my Lady, I am afraid I have missed your name. I am sure we were introduced.’ He was trying to be honest though with so many young people under his roof no one could blame him he felt a little bit lost. 

@buonoroberto​

The wayward music had finally stopped echoing, each key of the harpsichord sitting innocently and perfectly, as if she hadn’t just hit it in a childish fit of upset. Was it too much for a hole to appear in the floor? Spirit Brygida away so she didn’t embarrass herself (just like her mother said she would) in front of this illustrious host? 

“I am Brygida Sabina Bandura, Majesty, princess of Poland. And please, do give your son my apologies, I insist.” 

More words jumbled on her tongue and bounced against her teeth as she wanted to blather further platitudes and give excuses, just as she might have with her own father. But no, this was not her father, not her king and for the first time in an age, Brygida felt the weight of a higher station press against her shoulders through the curtsy she still maintained. 

“Surely, Majesty, I remember you,” she lied, knowing she hadn’t paid much attention at all during the early days here on the island. “A pleasure to meet you once again. Shall I leave you, sir? I was intruding.” 

crescendo.

[brygidaxbandura]

buonoroberto‌:

How naive was he to think that no one could find him here? There were certain moments of hope when he thought he would be left alone but he knew he secretly enjoyed meeting people, finding out about his visitors, there was also a certain secret mission he had in mind - getting closer to the Kingdom of Poland and Lithuania. He knew so very little about them. While France and Spain were closer to the Italian {for good of for bad} Poland seemed like a different world. The music coming from one of the rooms drove him close. It was not very often that someone would plane music at that hour but apparently, a blonde woman fancied that. He listened to the music, watching her aggressive play, she grew frustrated and almost broke the instrument. What a temperament. ‘Easy or you will break it, my dear.’ he came closer to her, an easy smile on his face. He was not very musical himself but he enjoyed music. ‘It is my son`s, he would hate you for that and no one wants to see that man angry.’ He could only imagine his youngest son`s face, the spoilt brat would make such a scene. 

@buonoroberto​

The sudden quiet was broken, and Brygida spun, skirt chasing itself ‘round as she turned to face the interloper who dared interrupt and - Oh God In Heaven, that was the King of Italy. 

The princess dropped immediately into a deep curtsy, hiding a wince as her elbow knocked against the edge of the harpsichord, smarting badly. “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, I should never dream of treating such a precious belonging of your family with such disrespect, nor anger your son.” 

Gulping down a nervous inhale of air, she gave a small peek from her lowered position, heart hammering at the site of the slight amusement she might see on her own father’s face. 

The thought was disastrously painful, knifing into her side so once again, she hid by lowering her gaze to the floor. “I shan’t touch it again, I swear to you,” Brygida offered instead, moving slowly away as if the instrument might suddenly bite. 

crescendo.

[brygidaxbandura]

marcocaetani‌:

Flat. His brow twitched at the confusion the comment posed but he brushed it off quickly. It was clear by now the girl was beyond sense. Stumbling about, muttering to horses in the woods. It was hard for him to see her as a woman in such a state. There was something about the vulnerability she carried in that moment that forced him to act with something from protectiveness rather than an alluring nature. This was of course, not a meeting caused by malicious intent though under different circumstances it very well may have been.

“Yes, I’m sure Lunetta is grateful for your affections.” As if to fill in any blanks he patted the horse on the back, not that the connection was necessary to be picked up by the young princess, taking the bottle from her hand and sniffing it before taking a small, elegant swig. “Well, perhaps when you are in a more cognitive state I’ll allow you to borrow her. I’m afraid though, that if you were to mount her now I would be wrapping your head in a shirt.” He turned back to her now, his smile glowing with humor. “As handsome as I may be, I’d prefer to keep my clothing today.”

“Ah.” He laughed, lowering himself to sit next to her on the ground, a small sound leaving his mouth as he lowered his stiff body to the dirt. “That they are.” He took another small sip before placing the container back in her lap. Despite his better judgment, he could imagine the fit that would erupt if he attempted to keep her from the drink. “I must say though that for a Pollock, you drink much like the Scotts. Perhaps we should test your paternity.” He was sure to smile wide and kind, though a joke as such so soon was certainly a risk for anger.

“You can call me Marco. I think we can skip formalities today.” 

@marcocaetani​

“Does that mean something? I mean, of course it does, but what, in particular? The word is familiar to something I know, but I cannot think of it just now.”

She paused; chewed her lip; continued; “Would perhaps you ride with me back to the castle? If you are so worried for my well-being? I walked the entire distance.” Brygida did not offer that she’d been forbidden from riding by her mother, though surely the woman would not protest? 

Better to be safely escorted than stumble back through the bramble.

Her eyes trailed slowly from the grand animal to the man who now sat beside her, confidently relaxed on the ground despite her attempts to shoo him further into the forest. “Wrapping my head in a shirt - ,” the young woman repeated, voice tripping in confusion. “I don’t...what? I have not heard this saying. Why would you take off your clothing?”

The very idea distracted Brygida from the wine bottle now returned to her, eyes wide and startled as she attempted to keep the color from her face. 

Instantly, the space between them seemed quite small indeed and her heart skipped. Then, it squeezed. 

“I’m nothing like a filthy Scot,” the princess hissed, rising quickly and unevenly stepping away from the log, bottle clunking to the ground. “Don’t say that. I’m nothing like them or their horrid queen and it’s quite rude of you to say so.” 

She did not offer her name in return, too upset at the insinuation, the biting words of Valentina haunting her, tugging each breath sharply from her chest.

lost in barley.

[brygidaxbandura]

crescendo.

@buonoroberto

Anger was not an overly familiar emotion for her, though it had started to settle and meld to her skin like an uncomfortable cloak, its fit just every so slightly off. 

Her fingers slipped from the proper harpsichord key, an errant note resounding. 

In attempt to curb her drinking, Brygida’s mother had taken to an extreme measure of forbidding her access to her horse lest she “break her neck” whilst riding. Somewhere in the conversation the words drunkard and shameful had been thrown at her. 

A second note displaced itself.

The aggressive playing of Scarlatti continued as the Polack princess felt her cheeks color pink, frustrated with the instrument before her. When the third sour note sang, her fingers left the keys completely, only to return all together in a loud, discordant SLAM that sent each cord clanging into the air, out of place. 

[brygidaxbandura]

ladylubicz‌:

A walk through the courtyard always gave Anastasia clarity into the events unfolding in court, a chance to clear her mind and focus on why she was here and more so how to woo her way into a nobleman’s life. While there were much more pressing matters at stake in the court, finding a future man to grasp onto and bring her to a place of riches or maybe even power gave her something else to worry about, a distraction of sorts, a game to play to spice up the everyday boredom and stress of being here. 

The trees were in bloom, beautiful red roses crawled there way up the gray stones for they too wanted to leave. The pebbled walkway crunched under her laced shoes as she made her slow strides acknowledging all of the beauty surrounding her. A small rose that had fallen from its bush caught her eye, she strode over elegantly securing her dress and leaned over picking up the freshly fallen flower. 

As she looked up there was a person standing before her looking down at her. She quickly stood fixing her dress and curtsied still holding the rose.

“I’m very sorry if I was in your way” her voice elegant and smooth.

@ladylubicz​

She’d been ousted from her room not a half hour prior, left wilting in the wake of her mother’s enraged parade. Brygida paced quickly through the courtyard, head aching as she twirled the same strand of hair over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. 

Someone, surely one of her mother’s ladies, had exposed her stash of wine hidden beneath the bed and now a whole gaggle of maids were turning over every cushion to find more. 

Unacceptable. Annoying. 

As she walked, she let her hands drag through the flowers, every bush and bloom she could find, occasionally trapping a petal betwixt her fingers to fiddle with and then discard. Changing direction once more, the princess paused, tired brain attempting to plan the liberation of a bottle from the cellar. 

And then, Anastasia. 

Eyes flipping to the lady of her home court, Brygida’s teeth shone from behind a grand smile, “Lady Lubicz! How pleased I am to see you! It has been ages, I think. How are you today?”

Open

[brygidaxbandura]

marcocaetani‌:

Sharp features froze in place as he watched the blonde heap slowly turn into a woman with a grace that resembled that of a newborn fawn. He could see her world spinning, feel the trees tilt this way and that as he watched her legs stretch out, hands gripping for support. If he were more of a drunkard, he may have felt sympathy but as it was, he cared far too much for control to allow such a state to fall upon himself often.

The sculpture that was his face quickly melted, amusement warming his cheeks as his lips curling in a crooked smile. He stared with an expression that twisted between awe and pity until her own soft features lifted to meet his.

He could not understand most of her words but as it seemed they were meant for the horse anyhow he hardly minded. However the following clearly meant for him, might as well have resembled the same language. With a swift swing of his leg, he lowered himself off the beast, feet noisily breaking whatever forest lay beneath him. “You flatter me.” He chuckled, lifting his hand as if to offer it to her. “But I can not leave with a clear conscience. Unfortunately, I’m afraid you may be stuck with me.” He nodded toward the bottle, giving meaning for his outstretched hand. “But, are you as greedy as you are friendly?” His brow lifted in humorous wait.

@marcocaetani​

“You are flat,” Brygida returned nonsensically. 

It was hard to think and she felt a sudden urge to burst into tears. By no means had she been mistreated as of late, by anyone except the vile Scot queen with her waspish words, so why did any bit of attention feel so welcome?

Deciding that sitting properly was not worth the effort, the princess lowered her self once again to the ground, wanting to curl amongst the leaves and sleep. Her intention to bed down was interrupted however by the man - oh yes he was here wasn’t he - who approached. 

“At least I have the horse, if you refuse to leave,” she continued. “I love horses, did you know? Riding atop their strong backs, it’s quite thrilling. I haven’t been in ages, riding.” Brygida passed the bottle easily to his hand, blinking owlishly as she slowly aimed for his fingers.  “I don’t know why it stopped being fun, but it is, everything here is even duller than before and that is saying something. I tried to find the pond to swim but I cannot find it. I don’t - I don’t remember where it is.”

Her vision wandered off, as if suddenly the spot might appear from behind a tree. With a soft roll of her neck, her free hand began to fiddle with a twig from the ground as she stared back at her new companion. 

“Oh, you won’t tell my mother I’ve been drinking? That’s the price if you must stay. Tattle-tales are dreadfully obnoxious.” Her nose wrinkled. “Who are you, again?”

lost in barley.

[brygidaxbandura]

marcocaetani‌:

Thin streams of light pressed through the canopy above, the greenery dancing in the breeze so that strange patterns played along their fallen friends bellow. The dried foliage crunched beneath his horse as they strolled down the narrow path of thick trees. It was silent, a rare occasion considering the population of the current residence. Despite the square footage of the castle there seemed to be no quiet corners. Where royals and nobles failed to have presence servants filled the spaces. Marco appreciated solitude and so when none was offered he would take it upon himself to seek it out. 

The solidarity was short lived however, as silence seemed abruptly penetrated by a far too loud, straining voice. 

With the pinch of his brows Marco peered in the direction of the distasteful speech, the slurred words seemed to be lost until a small huddle of a woman came into view. Blonde hair peered out at him from behind a fallen trunk and with short contemplation, Marco’s brows twitched slightly with a new found amusement. 

“The woods are no place for a lady to be traveling alone.” Words left his lips with a tone of concern, though his eyes glint with a contradiction amusement. He allowed his eyes to search for a companion but alas, there were none to be seen. 

@marcocaetani​

The horse, she registered first. With a lazy tilt of her chin, Brygida half turned from her seated position, letting the world shift and settle as she took the image in. It was a fine beast, with large eyes and a shimmering coat. Pleased, the princess fought against gravity until she was somewhat steady on her feet, using the log she’d been cuddling for support. 

"Co za ładna bestia,” she murmured to it, clumsy steps drawing her across the detritus foliage. 

Then words came and Brygida did her best not to hiccup in surprise. “O mój Boże, możesz mówić!” A step backwards had her stumbling, though thankfully she was close to land on the log instead of the ground. 

That’s when the man registered, sitting atop the ‘talking horse’ and looking..smug? Worried? She could not tell but feeling the heat in her face, Brygida bit back, “I am not traveling, I am sitting; also I prefer to be alone, I’ve all the company I need.”

The bottle in her hand gluged cheerily as she waved it gently. “So. As I said. Off with you, handsome man. Farewell, so long, bye bye, ha!”

lost in barley.

[brygidaxbandura]

lost in barley.

open starter.

The chapel no longer held any comfort for her, it’s glass windows like open sores into her soul, only taking. There was little to fill her, anguish and pain banking like a long burning fire, dwindling to broken ashes. 

Brygida sought something, anything, to feel full again. 

Currently, she found solace in wine bottles, numerous and plentiful and all at her beck and call. Her mother’s judgement had made her squirrel her horde away and now, she enjoyed it in the forest, tucked against some fallen log, covered with moss. 

The canopy felt like a blanket of safety, and so when snapping twigs and rustling underbrush alerted her woozy mind to another person tromping through, she slurred, “Nooooo, do turn and gu-oh the other way, this spot is taken. Good-bye~” Such confidence hadn’t graced her in what seemed like an endless age. 

[brygidaxbandura]

whiterosesofscotland‌:

Valentina couldn’t help but release a quiet huff from her mouth, A very small grin formed at the edge of the Queen’s lips after the disgusting words the Princess expressed towards her. It was cruel and very ugly to express such to a person clearly mourning the death of a loved one. Though, it was a tactic that Valentina simply wanted to express. “You haven’t answered my question.” The woman told the other, hands holding in front of her. “With your highly opinionated views, did your father deserved his death?” She repeated herself, head lifting a little as she knew the Princess wouldn’t have a justified answered. “Long live the Queen.”

@whiterosesofscotland​

Held immobile by disbelief, Brygida’s face contorted further with emotion, her heart unable to decide upon sorrow, rage, or whatever was in this increasingly confusing cocktail that plagued her. What could she possibly say to this woman, who looked so pleased? Confident? Delighted in the pain she caused? 

Hugging herself, the young princess said nothing at all, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. With a small step, she tested her retreat. Another step and she felt a tugging in her gut to just run but decorum held tight. A gasp nearly broke the bond but she swallowed it and turned, walking away. 

Like she was taught.

[brygidaxbandura]

quccns-blood‌:

@brygidaxbandura

“Princess Sabina? Oh, I am so glad to see you here, safe and sound.” She grasped the hands of the princess in her own. 

“Last time I saw you, you were but a little girl, hiding behind your father’s legs!” Not that she had been any different, with the exception that she had been standing next to him. “Tell me, are you here with the rest of your family?”

@quccns-blood

Warm fingers wrapping about hers made Brygida startle from the fallow mood that claimed her; a familiar face appeared. “Oh, hello. Um. It has been quite a while, hasn’t it?” 

Her words bought time for her memory to produce a name and she was grateful to fill the awful silence that threatened to stretch. “I am, Princess Maria, I- yes. I am here with my family. I assume you are as well? I had hoped things were improving.” 

[brygidaxbandura]

whiterosesofscotland‌:

“Congratulations to your brother and sister-in-law for inheriting the throne. Poland and Lithuania are blessed to have heirs.” The Queen of Scotland told the Princess, her tanned hands brought forward and held them together. Though, there was a wicked smirk that formed on her face, one that looked like she was about to say something smart. “But tell me, Princess. Did your father sin so badly that he deserved a painful and slow death caused by the black sickness?” @brygidaxbandura

@whiteroseofscotland

The education Brygida had received as a child clung to her bones like tar, weighty and near inescapable. A polite smile was immediately to her lips, as she clocked the Scot monarch approaching, though it felt as weak and watery as her insides, gut bleeding with sorrow. 

She did her best to focus.

It was easier when a warm palm slipped against her own chilled one, then another, with strong fingers grasping in a movement of comfort. Her breath stilled at this stunning gesture and Valentina’s image solidified for Brygida. Staring with expansive eyes, she let her silence speak of the unexpectedness of the gesture.

They continued staring as the queen’s words brought a twisting stab to her heart. Mouth gaping, the princess let her hands fall limp in the other woman’s, skin suddenly crawling at the contact. 

“You are truly vile, you horrid witch,” Brygida whispered. “If you had a heart at all, it would be a black and withered thing. How could you say such a thing?”

Of course, she’d forgotten her own words until now but imparted from the only person the princess thought she might actually hate, they were each a tearing wound, as vicious as a wolf’s bite.  

[brygidaxbandura]

I’m back! Time to play.

[brygidaxbandura]

hildegardkoenigin‌:

T h e sudden shout in the muffled, hay-golden haven of the stables startled Hildegard even more than it startled Richardis (the mare). The queen leapt back from the stall and swung around, ready to scold the intruder for sheer lack of decorum, but she recognized the stature, the voice, the smile. “You’re Polish, aren’t you?” She asked, suddenly very aware that if this wasn’t who she thought it was then this was liable to be a rather awkward conversation. 

@hildegardkoenigin​

Skidding to a sudden stop, grateful for her sturdy riding boots, she gave a blink. And then another. “Oh, hello!” she murmured in surprise, before repeating herself, voice meant to carry down the stalls this time. “Hello!” 

Striding forward, Brygida studied the delicate features of the woman before her, trying to place exactly where she’d seen them before. There were still, somehow and against many odds, those she had yet to meet and keeping all the nobility straight was an effort. 

“Yes, I am and I’ve come for my horse. Do I know you? I seem to recognize you but cannot place your features.”  

I remember you || Brygida & Hildegard