( how much time has passed for lamorre, without its empress?
petrana cannot know, so she dreams of her daughter the way she remembers her: a little girl only now beginning to walk upon the grass of the palace's cultivated lawn, a pretty fountain of light and not water playing colours that she chases across the pale blanket spread out for them, petrana's skirts against it a stark contrast in royal purple and her crown weighted for all its delicate design. guardsmen stand at a short distance away, and petrana's own ladies a flutter of paler, pastel shades beneath the summer sun. an attendant holds a shade, and a nursemaid waits with her hands folded to be summoned to the care of a thing that some years ago would have been unheard of: a crown princess and her father's heir presumptive no matter the sex of any subsequent siblings.
not, petrana thinks, that it is very likely thaΓ―s will have any subsequent siblings.
she has not run. she has not fought. she is a pretty thing with which marius's court is decorated, and little more; his frustration and impatience with the business of ruling that which he has conquered does not extend so far, now, to allowing petrana the reign to do it herself. he consults her and ignores her counsel, and she is left to spend pretty summer afternoons watching their daughter with unfair dissatisfaction. she thinks herself a most unnatural woman for the dispassion with which she observes her younger daughter's joyβnow she is walking, and soon speaking, and soon asked not to speak.
once she had feared being set aside without an heir to protect her, and now it is difficult to summon the love for her second-born that had come so naturally with her first. thaΓ―s feels more marius's child than her own, and it isn't fairβ )
Well done, ( she hears herself saying, warmly. ) How clever you are! Can you bring it to me, now? Yes, darling.
( thaΓ―s holds the light from the fountain between her hands, her little face deep in concentration, and petrana holds her hands out in welcome, ignoring the slight unease of her attendants at the de lamorraine's encouragement of magic in their child from such a young age. one day this will be commonplace, and then all of this will have been worth it.
one day, all that came before will have been worth it. )
petrana de cedoux / her grace, empress consort petrana solene / open.
petrana cannot know, so she dreams of her daughter the way she remembers her: a little girl only now beginning to walk upon the grass of the palace's cultivated lawn, a pretty fountain of light and not water playing colours that she chases across the pale blanket spread out for them, petrana's skirts against it a stark contrast in royal purple and her crown weighted for all its delicate design. guardsmen stand at a short distance away, and petrana's own ladies a flutter of paler, pastel shades beneath the summer sun. an attendant holds a shade, and a nursemaid waits with her hands folded to be summoned to the care of a thing that some years ago would have been unheard of: a crown princess and her father's heir presumptive no matter the sex of any subsequent siblings.
not, petrana thinks, that it is very likely thaΓ―s will have any subsequent siblings.
she has not run. she has not fought. she is a pretty thing with which marius's court is decorated, and little more; his frustration and impatience with the business of ruling that which he has conquered does not extend so far, now, to allowing petrana the reign to do it herself. he consults her and ignores her counsel, and she is left to spend pretty summer afternoons watching their daughter with unfair dissatisfaction. she thinks herself a most unnatural woman for the dispassion with which she observes her younger daughter's joyβnow she is walking, and soon speaking, and soon asked not to speak.
once she had feared being set aside without an heir to protect her, and now it is difficult to summon the love for her second-born that had come so naturally with her first. thaΓ―s feels more marius's child than her own, and it isn't fairβ )
Well done, ( she hears herself saying, warmly. ) How clever you are! Can you bring it to me, now? Yes, darling.
( thaΓ―s holds the light from the fountain between her hands, her little face deep in concentration, and petrana holds her hands out in welcome, ignoring the slight unease of her attendants at the de lamorraine's encouragement of magic in their child from such a young age. one day this will be commonplace, and then all of this will have been worth it.
one day, all that came before will have been worth it. )