❝ Tell me losing everything is what saved you,
Tell me you finally tasted freedom.
Can you even imagine yourself in paradise?
Even the daughter of gods must know loneliness, must sometimes want nothing more than to be trapped in a hell of forevers...
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Westminster Palace, England
At the privy council meeting, the lords rose when Margaret arrived and took her seat to Henry's right.
"Why is Jasper absent?" Margaret asked, confused when she saw the seat beside hers was vacant.
"He is unwell," Henry replied calmly as he picked up the letter from Sir Richard Pole off the table. "We are told we must not worry," he turned, addressing the rest of the council as they took their seats, "Charlotte Neville has revealed her plans. She hopes to win the Austrian army to their cause."
"There is no certainty of that, though, or even any great likelihood," Lily argued in a calm tone as she shook her head. "Greta of Austria-Burgundy is certainly a fine match for this imposter, but the Empire has enough problems without having to divide their army so they can fight us here in England."
"And what about the marriages her daughter and niece made?" A council-member asked, curious as to what the queen would say if she was able to discard the idea of Austrian support.
"My mother, first and foremost, wished for me and my siblings to be safe and happy," Lily started. "Nora in France achieves that. She could not be safer and from what our ambassador reports, she and King Charles are happy together, but he has Italian aspirations and won't split his army when all he can gain if the imposter succeeds is a marriage for one of his children when there are already Tudor princes and princesses available."
Henry nodded. "Scotland might prove to be a problem, but they are smaller than any other possible threats so we do not have to worry much about them. They are too poor to wage a war against us alone, at any rate."
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Mechelen, Antwerp, Burgundy
It has been a trying day, and a fussy one at that.
Preparations for feasts had to be made, rooms to be organized, ale to be brought up from the cellar; and though she wears one of her most comfortable dresses, Charlotte can't help but feel tired and almost old as she sees their guests starting to arrive — all young and bright eyed.
She is able to escape the welcoming dinner relatively early, leaving her son to his duties to his guests, expecting them to converse long into the night.
It is a surprise then, as she is carefully unfurling her hair from its braids, that she answers the questioning knock on her door to find Max.
"You abandoned your post, my lady," he says as she steps back to let him in, already making her way back to her mirror, smiling a little as her hands reach up into her hair once again. He closes the door behind him, clicking it softly shut, and snatches up the brush she was reaching for. She is about to protest when he begins to brush it softly over her hair, palming the locks together with the bristles, a gentle tug at her scalp that she moans a little at.
