kingcfnaples - Tumblr blog

[kingcfnaples]

STATUS: closed to @hcrryofwales​ LOCATION: Tuileries Palais, interior TIMESTAMP: March 1459, after the announcement of the betrothal

Whilst he met the son of Queen Isabel and King Edward among his own court, where held the Neapolitan flag and trinkets brought straight from the Italian shores, Ferdinand had decided — with perhaps the help of his betrothed — to meet the son of the King and the deceased Portuguese Queen Lianor within his own two rules. He knew what it was to be young in the world, he knew the pressure that was held between father and son — to be an heir rather than an offspring. Of what was expected. 

But Ferdinand’s father had died far too early; handing the throne to a boy who was all too drowned in the solitude of the tavern, leaving the boy to create an act that he continued to find fault in. At least Harry, born with brimstone and from the ashes left behind by his mother, had time to prepare — to learn and watch a father who had, too, had his mistakes and highest achievements. 

Once arrived, the Southern Italian King waved his guards aside — to wait by the entrance of the Tuileries, to offer a kinship to the heir of England; to plant the seed which may resolve into an alliance which would last years upon years. Meeting him face to face, Ferdinand bolstered a smile, and bowed his head slightly due to almost equal status. “Your grace, I’m glad to meet you at last. I can only apologise that we did not meet before my betrothal to your sister was announced — but it seems that time was refused to sit from up beneath their feet. If he was to challenge the English Prince to a friendship, then the King would have to earn it. 

“Would you walk with me, my lord?”

[kingcfnaples]

STATUS: closed to @princethomas​ LOCATION: Palais Cardinal, the court of King Ferdinand TIMESTAMP: March 1459, after the announcement of the betrothal

England was made up of two different princes. One, born to rule with Portuguese blood still hot within his veins. The other, born from the very heart of England. Rumour had it that they were two sides of the same coin, stuck together by their father the King — forced to know one another, forced to pretend. Ferdinand could not quite understand the hatred that was due between brothers; but then, he had been fortunate enough to be the only son of the late King, and the younger brother to a sister whose feet were deeply planted into the roots of Firenze. 

He planned to meet both in quick succession, despite it being far from tradition to find common ground with the proposed brothers of his bride. Ferdinand hoped to keep a hand within England, to remind them when needed of an alliance and their support that’d perhaps shape the world around them — to bring in a new age; especially when the awkward dance of succession came to the horizon. After all, Ferdinand hoped to rally forward a new way of thinking, a new way to rule and a forward — progression that’d perhaps aid England in finally submerging the rebellious Scots. 

Meeting the second born son of England, Ferdinand clapped his hand to Tomas’ shoulder, holding him with a smile that spread insistently. “Prince Thomas, I am sorry we did not meet before the betrothal was announced. Everything sped past I without my true knowledge! You see, there is more to do as a King than it may seem…” Ferdinand smiled, loosening the Prince before gesturing for him to join in joyous conversation and vats of wine from Ferdinand’s own cellar. “Will you join me?”

[kingcfnaples]

kingedwardplantagenet​:

x

   It was a universal fact, that a man possession of a large fortune would be in want of a wife;  further yet, a man possession of a modest fortune, brazen charm and an unmitigated ambition , would be in want of a wife, in possession of a title. Upon these merits, did the King of Naples approach him in earnest; in quiet reflection, did Edward mark, Ferdinand would be well-cast, as one of his own off-spring. Perhaps his dear Beatrice felt fondness, for the clearness of health in his cheeky – his fine, cheerful blue eyes. The young man had inherited much of his father’s aspect, his rousing stature, roman nose, and propensity for concocting plans, predicated on foreign support.  Long overdue indeed, is our meeting –  you make a grand speech, your grace, but is is best, if you are seated. I find the position for suitable, for one to listen.” Charging the young swain to a chair, a servant present a chalice of wine, to both parties – Edward lapsing into silence, soothing his propositions, for a moments pause. 

   It was an uncomfortable crisis, to discharge the hand of ones daughter; better yet, the hand of a child so oft riddled, on grounds with merit, with notions of her father’s indecency. “Answer me plainly, and know, that my acceptance will not be altered by the stinging nature of veracity – but you are to be my son, and I wish to know you, the better. Is it a union of love, bolstered by ambitious alliances? Or is the the latter, to be later warmed, by the former?” There was no bad feeling, no malice nor rancour, in Edward’s countenance, as he sought in vain the King’s earnest confession; merely, in a man who harboured few sympathetic faculties, a desire to be relived of his daughter, for her betterment, was steadfast. “ Ah, yes …the most beloved subject of Italian unification, is one I approach cautiously – for I admire the Medici, your grace, and whilst I shall be your ally, I do not court their ire. When you unveil your plans in due time, I wish to be kept abreast of how my contributions, shall be deployed; I admire your tenacity, and applaud your efforts. Mark me a cautious, old man, grown warm beneath peace. My child is eager for the union, and the strength of your offers, has convinced me enough – will you manage, however, the trail of broken hearts the death of your bachelorhood, shall bring?”

He heard his own father in his ear as the Young King went to Edward’s feet; a late King who had sternly reminded his son to choose duty over heart, to toughen to the reality of the pitfalls of life and face clarity with sword in hand. He had warned every bride-to-be before him; cautioning them horrid and bare truths — but with meditation and the tune of his heart he was called to Beatrice before any other. With an English alliance to better the Neapolitan people and a true heart, he found himself utterly besotted. 

 Taking to the other seat, Ferdinand’s smile grew with an eager expression. He had always thought that the King of England, and he were cut from the same cloth; or, so he hoped, for the only other King he had first hand experience with was his father, who had a bolder nose and a bolder sense of ambition and punishment. Taking the offered wine, Ferdinand sipped with ease, allowing the taste to linger on his restless tongue — allowing the aroma to sink into his pores; he would have the fondness indeed mirrored again and again for whenever he was to be with dear Beatrice, in promise to respect what and who she was on her own two feet. 

 If he were to be his son, to become family to the English court, Ferdinand bowed his head and beamed large enough for even the far-away guards to notice. “I do not pretend to be anything I am not, your grace. I always craved romance, or what was described in the stories waxed to myself and my sister, the now Grand Duchess of Firenze. Though we first met under the guise of what could be and what would stem from it, I find myself utterly bereft at the thought of spending another day without her hand. Love blossoms, your Highness — I am overly proud to say so, for when the announcement rings true I will make sure to boast of it; against all advice from my priest who would consider such declaration playing to the sin of hubris,” Ferdinand laughed, leaning forward to gauge his reaction; in due time after all, Ferdinand would have his own children — his own daughters to give away. So he watched, and made notes, as they talked as if they had known each other for a lifetime. 

 “As you know, I am allied to the Medici and the grand republic of Firenze. I hope to convince the various states that it would be to the betterment of Italy to come under my roof and protection — with the Papacy as a true and honest neighbour. I would also hope that England would be a grand ally, a talking post to help convince them — to help them see the light. If that failed, then I suppose, I would have to ask for your aid in making such a dream come true. But for now, your grace, I only ask for friendship and mutual loyalty to one another. We may talk about the duty later, after Beatrice finds her feet beside I. For I only worry that she will outshine me; if it was not for the paleness of her skin, she would look at one of my coastlines.” 

With his ring-cladded fingers, Ferdinand took his cup, and sipped generously. Nerves still loitered, warning him that the King could turn at any moment. But there he felt a certain understanding between the two — perhaps he saw something of himself in the King of Naples, who had only just spent two years upon the Southern throne. “I would also ask for your trust, if I may be so bold. I would ask you how you have stood the test of time and popularity amongst the English people, and how you became one of the four corners of the various trade routes we bolster… For I have thought long and hard that the Italian States should’ve been included, at least, Naples… We have a lot to give; including perhaps the trade of statues from the Ancient worlds. You know of course, that the keen world of Roman mythology was born upon my shores.”

[kingcfnaples]

katrinkc​:

“You’re the trapped mouse between her paws, are you? She’s quite the feline, isn’t she?” Katherine made a face as he spoke, peering up at him to inspect, “Shall I dunk you into the river, then, to clean off any vermin before you present yourself to King Edward? Steal you a crumb of cheese? Don’t bite me, I’m trying to help!” Her childish tease broke into a shiver from the soft breezes off the river, fresh and sweet and earth, poignant with bunches of rosemary lining barrels, market stalls coaxing the last bits of crisp-crust bread, oil-sleek fish, flowers alight in bursts of colour in the dying daylight like firework bundles. She shivered too, from the beautiful scene Ferdinand had allowed her to jump into with each roll of his tongue. Bright, glorious, his love for her acquired sister caused the River Seine to pale and wither. His laughter over his heart’s ordeal like church-bells as he ruminated on whatever emotion peppered his skin to preach of the lengths he was prepared to go in the name of his lover. She envied this: his dewdrop faith in love despite the road ahead. The innocence of it. But life had a way of guiding souls through the dirt, the dredges, to feel both highest highs and lows due to love.

 She could only conceal a dark horse smirk for a flickered moment by rubbing her lips together at his question, careful tread with any thought abandoning Russia. “Wouldn’t you cry when leaving home? What was it like when the crown first sat on your head? It’s shocking, when life changes! First, like the world’s upside-down, and everyone in it. I was thrown to the lions of England, a family you must keep pace with to survive… but an odd thing happens, when you run alongside them, and suddenly home isn’t a place but the shared goal, that shared destination.” She paused, raising her chin up defiantly to the scenic view, adding with a rebellious flourish, “The world doesn’t see me as English, England doesn’t even see me as English – but I love Her more than many who spend their lifetime sinking feet into its soil.” A beat, smirk stretching as she added, “So, take one lioness to Naples. Love her enough, and one day, she’ll bleed for Naples, too.”

“You know I’d help however I can. She’s my family now, and I know you cower in my presence, so mind, treat her well.” Her fingers lightly squeezed his arm, hoping to reassure as she felt his palm over her knuckles, and she leaned in to mutter,  “Stay this kindhearted forever, Ferdinand, promise me? I’m lucky to have a friend like you in the world.”

Ferdinand could not help but chuckle, drawing himself by her side as he grabbed upon her arm in confidence — it was as if they were two children rather than two adults torn apart by fate. “I fear that I am all but her toy, a malice to be taunted by!” He laughed, remaining by her side as her trustworthy companion; a friend, an ally she may seek the council off. Where his honesty began, he had hoped for her to share in turn. He had heard rumours of her discomfort within England and the unrest that muzzled between the English people that they were to serve a Russian Princess of Wales — but Ferdinand thought gossip was more a common hobby for maidens than for Kings, and so refused to lift a true and thorough ear to it. 

Alas, her reply seemed to bring clarity to the young King, who smiled and bathed in her rebellious flourish. Damn them all, damn their wiggling tongues and nosey eyes; if Katherine said she was happy, Ferdinand would insist upon it. “Here, here! We must raise a cup to your love for England; my apparent future ally,” Ferdinand cheered, raising his hands up towards the sky before lowering them in a ceremonious attitude. “And I shall, I would not see to master the lion, but to invite her upon the sun soaked sand of my home; I would offer her all she would ask for, I would make sure of it,” he pressed; offering Katherine a truth that was not often shared between either sex. 

Would he remain so kind? Only time would tell… it was time that would prove if Ferdinand could survive the furious onslaught of ruling a kingdom as rich with history as the famed English Isle. He wondered, was their king once so boyish with charm? Certainly he must’ve been a romantic… Alas, it left Ferdinand to wonder if this beginning of his would only disperse into resentment and paranoia. Allowing her to take his arm, Ferdinand could not resist the innocent curve of his lips, to reveal the soft innards of the king. “I will forever be your confidante, Katherine… I am glad, no — eased, to know that we will both find happiness… Will you take a walk with me? I would gladly see you to the Tuileries Palais.”

[kingcfnaples]

sercphism​:

♱

“and i thank you for that, but i mustn’t distract you from your duties,” seraphina interjected, chin dropping in sisterly authority. ferdinand’s devotion to her was rivaled by no one, not even her own husband. while neither of them visited during her self-imposed exile, only one of them was clearly eager sometimes it surprised her, the lengths that he proclaimed he would go to — i would have sat with you for days, months, centuries! — all for her comfort. all for her happiness. indubitably, his future spouse would received the same devotion, if not more. and by his answer, it was beatrice plantagenet who was to receive his love and his devotion.

in truth, his reply took her by surprise. no, it was not his choice that astounded her, albeit she had believed him to be so devoted to his plans to unify the italian peninsula that he would choose a lady from an italian state to strengthen his cause. what might a princess from an isle an entire continent away offer politically to a young, optimistic, and ambitious king? would her father’s army traipse through france simply to put pressure on the northern italian states if ferdinand wished? would they come without hesitation, without question? had seraphina been queen — a hypothetical situation that she didn’t often visit in her mind to avoid dampening her reality — and given freedom to choose her spouse, she might’ve put duty over heart. ( yet here she was, in a marriage built solely on duty, lacking in passion and children — her reality was already dampened as could be. )

no, it was not his choice that astounded her. rather, it was the incandescent passion with which he spoke of her. he was enchanted by his bride; few men could say that. if he had told her of his intentions, of his feelings about the english princess a few years — nay, perhaps even months or weeks — she would have warned him against such strong feelings. she would have told him to choose with his mind and not his heart. but she squashed the caution lodged in her throat ( perhaps there was even a tinge of jealousy ) and instead only a brilliant chuckle left her lips.

“il mio cavolo,” she began, “you are king. you needn’t my approval nor my blessing. but if you would like it, you needn’t even ask. it is yours, forever.” his hands on her shoulders felt like a weight on her small frame, multiplying the feeling of her heavy heart, filled with worry for his future. but passion in his dilated pupils was undeniable, and helped to quell her concern. “is the betrothal official? does mother know?”

England had promised him their support; an island tucked to the northwest with history and fame to ripen its contest. Ferdinand had thought of the women within the Italian League, but he had also been coaxed by Beatrice to understand that they would only look towards their own states — they would not bring independent thought or willpower, whereas Beatrice would. He had chosen correctly — he blossomed with it. He held her hands and made sure that she would trust him in his voice. Or, so, he hoped. 

“Of course I wish for your blessing, mia sorella. You have been with me my entire life, and I respect you above anyone else. You are Naples, even if you are married to Firenze. You always will have a home, a stake, in the Kingdom,” he pressed, lips pursed to kiss her brow with tender affection; in truth, if anything were to happen to the marriage he’d soon have her back beneath his roof. He would be her defender, if she would allow it. 

And though her woes still remained on his mind, Ferdinand moved to lower his hands from her shoulders, to give her room and space to become Seraphina again. “No, I plan to tell her of my intention, then I would go to her father and then I would make it official…” At the matter of their mother, who remained behind in Napoli, Ferdinand frowned — his features suddenly a miss as something more stern flooded his person. Their mother had put their happiness before anything else — residing in the countryside with the pair of them before they had grown old enough to take part in their father’s realm. She came from a different world; so it seemed. 

“I will write to her tonight, non preoccuparti. She will be glad, I’m sure…” He mused, rolling his lips together before he turned towards the Seine — breathing deep to ingulf the air surrounding him, to make it his. “I feel as if we stand on the precipice of the future, la mia amata sorella. I would stand upon it with no one but you... “

[kingcfnaples]

His Royal Highness King Ferrante III of Naples and Her Royal Highness Beatrice Plantagenet the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy have announced, in March of the year 1459, their engagement to wed. The betrothal unites the Kingdoms of England and Naples as allies, but time will tell if King Edward will stand by his promise to aid King Ferrante in his mission to unite the Italian States beneath his banner. @beatriceplantagenet

[kingcfnaples]

lorenzs​:

⚜

Ah, the early blooms of love—made visible in the very pinking of Ferdinand’s cheeks. Lorenzo had never had the dubious fortune of being—or even of fancying himself—in love, and all for the better; the freedom to choose a bride had never been his. There was no doubt, of course, that Ferdinand must also select politically, before matters of his own heart… but to what end would he choose? “Ah, we must not tempt fate, certainly!” Lorenzo eyed Ferdinand with speculation. Was he wrong? Perhaps this talk of the edge of oblivion was genuine, and it was love that Ferdinand sought first. “Well, I eagerly await then the moment of your not yet turning into now… but surely you may tell me—is it any that I may know?” 

Lorenzo hummed, rolling over possible answers in his mind. He could not tell Ferdinand of the sum of his plans, of course—his own ambitions for Italy in detriment because of those results—but some were as relevant to Ferdinand, to Naples, as they were to himself. If he was not wrong, the both of them had felt as keenly the exclusion of their states, when they were so perfectly positioned—a center point, between the Western and the Eastern participants, central in both land and sea routes. “You remember, I am sure, the matter of that alliance.” He had considered, briefly, if scorned pride was a suitable justification to let the matter go, and turn his attentions to entirely new pursuits. “I hope to set the wheels in motion to have us included in it. What are your thoughts?”

Ferdinand, giddy with boyish charm, slapped his hand upon his brother-in-law's arm and held him steady by his side. He knew little of marriage, and what must be sacrificed for the hope of happiness — his own parents had neither been joyously happy or mercilessly sad; but content perhaps, that the King would rule and the Queen would raise the children. And though the young King of Naples could not think past what good news there was to share, in the gaps of his duty, he prayed that his sister was happy; against all odds, he still regretted not being given leave to attend her wedding. 

“You certainly know of her, brother. Why, before all, I wed for Naples and its whims. But I do consider myself blessed to know that such a love awaits me… If it comes to pass,” Ferdinand teased with the wrinkle of his brows, laughing before pushing features back to where they had been with every muscle upon his face. He had hoped that Lorenzo would not judge him for acting like a boy — but he did not know him well enough, and so asserted himself back to the act that befitted a King, standing by his side with pushed back shoulders and a straightened spine. Lord knows that he may gossip to his sister who Ferdinand had always tried to impress. 

 Brows furrowed at the change of subject, Ferdinand listened. Despite his boyish charm, he did seek the best for Naples — hence why he had always made it clear that his ambition to unite the country into a force worth reckoning had been declared on various types of parchment. He had hoped, too, that the trade alliance that had been constructed between England, Cordoba, the Ottoman Empire and Russia questioned — why was Italy sidestepped? What with Firenze’s wealth and Naples’ grandeur? Ferdinand squared himself before his brother by marriage, and turned completely to face him.

“When it was announced I put harsher restrictions upon my Southern coast, my lord — to hinder their trade alliance — to remind them that they would do well to look to our States. It would do them good to stop and listen to our wishes, Lorenzo. Here is where I come to you once more; consider what we could do if we were to unite once and for all!”

[kingcfnaples]

            𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚𝒆  —  ! 

𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 

the  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  of  england  and  the  lord  chancellor  of  naples  have  come  together  to  formalize  the  betrothal  between  BEATRICE,  DOWAGER  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY  &  FERDINAND,  KING  OF  NAPLES.  a  contract  of  intent  was  signed  with  over  fifty  witnesses  present,  including  renowned  noblemen  and  priests  from  both  nations,  blessed  by   papal  authority  and  the  bride’s  father,  his  majesty  the  king  of  england.  king  edward  accepts  the  match  and  is  in  return  offered  a  plethora  of  rich  resources  by  the  king  of  naples,  including  oil,  silk  and  wool,  the  pot  further  sweetened  by  the  access  and  aid  of  the  neapolitans  for  england  to  circumvent  a  trade  route  to  the  ottoman  empire.  a  dowry  was  not  offered  in  exchange  for  the  duchess’  hand,  having  been  returned  to  england  in  the  wake  of  the  dowager’s  first  husband’s  death.

we  join  the  archbishop  of  paris,  who  announced  the  betrothal  during  the  early  hours  of  mass,  in  our  sincerest  celebrations  for  the  couple. 

this  betrothal  is  now  public  knowledge,  and  any  subsequent  details  or  developments  will  be  posted  as  those  involved  purchase  related  events.

[kingcfnaples]

pinyanmei​:

where: cours-la-reine who: open to anyone!

An unexpected burst of cold wind had brought a fresh wave of snow to Paris overnight, and left the morning sky unobscured. Smiling sunshine gleamed upon a layer of white purer and brighter than diamond, thicker than the furs any of them could don. People would mourn it, the continuance of this winter that had so far been unkind, and showed few signs of end, each new term bringing the beginnings of a warm breeze, only to banish it once more… but not everyone. Yanmei had emerged when the bells began to ring for the second or third time that morning, ignoring the servants’ pleas to wear additional furs, to cover herself better. The cold could not pain her in any way that mattered; instead, the burn in her lungs enlivened her. I am here, after all, it said. It was never this cold in Yingtian. 

But she was not the only one taking pleasure in the weather. Various royalty promenaded the garden; children played in the thin layer of snow that surrounded them. Some weaponised the weather and fashioned projectiles from their surroundings. The attack came, of course, before she could notice it; a flash of white, and then freezing cold against her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. The raucous laughter that followed was cut quickly off as her eyes landed on the perpetrator—a boy, perhaps five or six—and another, much older, holding onto his collar as though a pesky cat. 

“Let him go,” she addressed the stranger, straightening and brushing the remaining snow from her shoulder. “He’s a child.”

Naples rarely ever experienced Winters so frozen; their deepest and most fearsome spell had come into play many years before Ferdinand’s own birth — the rumour was that the Roman Gods who had taken to Naples as their playground, were unhappy with the change of religion and lack of admiration to themselves, so in haste, they subdued the realm into a frozen age. Such a miracle had persuaded the artists to coax forward inspiration from such an event, and so, in the times of Winter it had become a tradition for Ferdinand and his past predecessors to host the Feast of Jupiter.

The snowfall that coated the Parisian roads left Ferdiand amiss; for it was not in his codex of knowledge, as he bid his servants aside to sweep the snow up between his two hands. Ferdinand was and always would be a summer child, but he still remained in awe at the snow’s beauty, and how it seemed to transform the city that was so often merely grey. It was only when he heard another voice did he pick his head back up, noting his guard who went to punish a child for playing his games. “Release him,” he called, eyes on the child with his hands upon his was — standing before the burning crowd as a visiting King, a smile wavering as his man released the young boy. “I hope you are not hurt, my lady,” Ferdinand remarked, unaware of the other’s status — but vision alone called him to remember the vast Ming Empire — of which Ferdinand had yet to become acquainted with. “And I hope you, ah, take care! There is ice that lays beneath this blanket.”

[kingcfnaples]

beatriceplantagenet​:

followed by her chief lady-in-waiting, the dowager duchess of burgundy traversed along the winding pathways at the hôtel de sully. the walled gardens were beautiful this time of year, with winter vegetation spilling into view with each turn of her head. her eyes, however, remained fixed on the man who had his arms reached out toward her and she turned only to nod to her companion — her lady kept her distance, as beatrice wished for privacy — before her hands were clasped within ferdinand’s own. she squeezed them in greeting, her eyes shining in pleasure.

the amount of men around them was plentiful and it struck beatrice as odd, though she wasn’t certain as to why. the thought escaped her mind, however, as her attention remained upon the king of naples and her smile was bright. “my lady will remain out of earshot,” she promised. “it does me good to see you, ferdinand.” she had missed his presence in recent days, more than she would admit even to herself, and eyes narrowed in thought as he mentioned he had something to share with her. her expression returned to placidity, however, and as she took his arm, beatrice leaned closer onto his arm than many might consider proper for an unmarried woman. and yet as a widow, beatrice found that so many barely looked twice.

“you have filled my dreams as well,” she remarked, her voice light as she looked at the greenery that surrounded them. “and i will confess to being rather eager at what you have to share with me.” fingers tightened around his arm. “we may switch to italian if you prefer, ferdinand. my skill in it has eroded, but it is always good to practice.”

She would’ve known what he had called her for, what lay beneath the pleasantries of first greetings. His eyes, so stuck on her, missed how her own lady held her space and how his men who had teased him at first, stuck to the wall, allowing the pair to embrace with joined hands; leaving Ferdinand to squeeze her back, his lips curved upward despite his initial idea to remain fine-lipped. But, he could barely parcel his wishes aside! He wanted her; in name, in body, in spirit. Their letters roamed around his head like whispers, ghosts and prayer.

Beatrice remained, as ever, cool and collected — she was the vision of Minerva; a battle Queen with expression amiss from such a beautiful visage. Together, he had decided, they would make a pair to take on the entire world. Forget Lorenzo, (may his sister remain blessed, however) and the wealth-ridden Firenze; it shall be Naples who remains at the forefront of political talk. Their marriage alone would remind the world that they were not some petty Kingdom but a God-given realm, enriched with mythology; Mars, the God of War, was supposedly born beneath his land. Was that not enough?

Arm in arm, Ferdinand spared a look towards his men. Men he had grown up amongst, men who had seen him act as boy in the tavern to King of real, breathing people. They were to only be seconded by Beatrice; if she accepted his proposal, that was.

His lips, still curved from the giddiest of smiles, seemed to pick up vigour — leaving Ferdinand to laugh out loud for the walled garden to hear as he walked by her side, allowing her to hold his arm; allowing her the role of guide, only appearing as her host to the naked eye as her little pressure pushed him this way and that. “We may have to…. ma Donna!” He waxed, leaning lower for her to hear, lips soft and lyrical — temptation burning his wretched bones to fo-go the act of King and to kiss her entirely before all approaching eyes. 

Separating themselves from their convoy, to nestle between wall-climbing ivy scattered with the blood red petals of roses, Ferdinand took both of her hands once more, holding her close, as his tongue went to wet anxious lips. “I wish to ask for your hand, Beatrice Plantagenet. To become your husband, and you my wife…” A folly for romance, not even his standing could persuade Ferdinand to stay up straight. Instead, he lowered to his knees, grazing his hose against the stonework as he looked up to Beatrice with wide, enamoured eyes.

[kingcfnaples]

total : 70 max total : 660

point page  /  point tag.

[kingcfnaples]

🎧 + kat

We’re Just Making it Worse - Cameron Avery & Alexandra Savior

To start again Our mistakes and choices we make Or chances we take Without thinking it through It wasn't me, neither you No, this ain't a thing I'm just tryin' to begin, again But don't come here with him

So Long, Marianne - Leonard Cohen

How we met when was it, we were almost young Was down by the green lilac park You held on to me like I was a crucifix As we went kneeling through the dark So long, Marianne, it's time that we began To laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again

[kingcfnaples]

✿

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in cri me  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other .

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other .

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other .

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other .

[kingcfnaples]

STATUS: closed to @beatriceplantagenet​ LOCATION: Hotel de Sulley, the walled gardens TIMESTAMP: February 1459

He had promised her, when tracing steps on royal gardens, that he would tell Beatrice all about his plans. That he would share any part of wisdom that would give clarity to her future. When met within the walled garden, Ferdinand paused for a moment — stunned momentarily when catching the sight of coiled red hair passing over her shoulder. She was a della Francesca, no more English than she was a woman — sculpted by artisans, perhaps by the hand of God.

But then, she was half Portuguese — a woman who was meant to bathe in sunlight and sea foam, not grey clouds and cold winters. It was this, perhaps, that persuaded him even more so that she’d suit a life in Naples, where the winter was still warm and the summer was coated in Helios’ glow.

He rushed to her, arms outstretched to take her hands — his smile broad and shimmering beneath the winter sun, as his guards stood by; his chamberlain laying in wait for some kind of order. “My lady,” he called, holding her hands between them for his men to see, “I have news… My men must be near, they insisted, but they shan’t interrupt nor shall they stare…” Ferdinand insisted, turning to narrow his gaze towards them, before returning to his beloved.

Bowing his head, he offered his arm, and smiled from beneath. “Perhaps news is not the right term,” the King pondered, lifting himself above her; his smile wavering as he thought of the correct English. “I hope I bring pleasant enquiries, and a smile to the face I have dreamt off with each appearance of the moon… come, let us find a less spacious spot, and talk as one.”

[kingcfnaples]

STATUS: closed to @kingedwardplantagenet​ LOCATION: Tuileries Palace, the King’s meeting hall TIMESTAMP: February 1459, mid-morning

 After words sent by their chancellors, Ferdinand pathed his way to the Tuileries Palace. The gravel rolled beneath his feet, rolling the young King towards the presence of the English King; a monarch tuned to experience and ways of life that Ferdinand had yet to taste.

The meeting was set to consist of talks to stitch together an alliance between the respected England and the glorious Naples. Ferdinand had been privy to the exchanging of letters, for still in his youth, he wished to stake a claim in each and every change made for his country. He suggested trade that Naples could provide, and the pause of restrictions for England on the trade route that ran past Naples towards the Ottoman Empire one way, and Cordoba the other. This and men to support his mission for the Unification of Italy.

In exchange, he would take the hand of Beatrice, the Dowager Duchess and Princess of England. And though their companionship was new and fresh, he felt the overwhelming presence of Fortunta. For love, so rare and divine, may be forged in such a relationship. Over the months since their fortunate meeting in Lisbon, Ferdinand had felt his heart grow in palpitations — every new conversation bringing the young King closer to oblivion.

His name was announced by the King of England’s servants, and Ferdinand entered the room with one guard and one steward by his side. With the exchange of relevant bows and grace, Ferdinand waved his men aside, to loiter on the skirts of the meeting hall as if to offer the Monarchs a slither of privacy.

“Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to meet at last… I bring good tidings, and better yet, an offer to join our great nations….You see, over these past few months, ever since the Summit held in Lisbon, I have been blessed to know your first daughter and second child, the Dowager Duchess. But, my lord, that has already been dusted over through the letters shared between our men, of these I am sure you are aware, so I won’t dull you with details but… I hope to take her hand in marriage. And, in turn, strengthen both of our Kingdoms,” With pause, he looked to the King, and bowed his head slightly before raising once more — shoulders rolled back, spine straight. “I also wish to have England on my side, when I push for the Unification of Italy.... But of all of this, I am sure you are aware, as a perceptive King of England.” 

[kingcfnaples]

lorenzs​:

Though the acquaintance between himself and the man he called brother had been short, Lorenzo had always found it advisable to keep Ferdinand close. His ideas of a united Italy, a notion he had heard repeated too many times for his comfort were fearsome, and though he doubted Ferdinand could achieve this ambition, he would rather not test that theory at all—youthful kings wielded too much power to leave things of such import to chance. It was best, always, to maintain closeness, to know where Ferdinand’s thoughts were at any moment.

And yet, it was not that he misliked his brother in-law. His presence was never unpleasant, at least. “Ferdinand, brother!” he greeted, clapping him across the back as they met in embrace. Pulling away, he laughed, averting his eyes. Did he look well? Paris suited him rather poorly, but it was flattering to hear nonetheless. “As do you! Is it the winter cold that leaves you so freshly glowing, brother, or the bloom of romance? I know you have been searching for a bride.” 

 When and if such a subject arose, Ferdinand would indeed fall back into the act that was, after five months of skirmishes, tuned to a sharpened blade. But till then, when arm in arm with a man who had married his sister, Ferdinand would treat him as if they were neither noble nor royal — leaving Ferdinand’s boyish charm to the Grand Duke’s mercy instead. So, at the mere mention of the early blossoming of love, Ferdinand grinned and bowed his head, to hide such pink cheeks. “Indeed, perhaps — I do not wish to play with fate, to talk of romances that may never take root. But I do dabble in it, of course I do … And there are a few who have caught my eye, but there is one who has led me further to the edge of oblivion oblivion… But no names, brother — not yet!”

Stepping back with a laugh, he took to a goblet of ale and sipped generously, his smile bubbling over the lip before meeting Lorenzo’s trailing eye. A man of gold (a man-made Midas himself), Ferdinand hoped to see an ally in Firenze — after all, he did not wish for a war between the Italian leagues, not when war was so fickle and expensive. And, not when Ferdinand fought for the entirety of Italy, simply putting the future before the needs of the Neapolitan people. “Tell me, how are you? What do you look for in this summit?”

[kingcfnaples]

total : 70 max total : 590

point page  /  point tag.