Marysia Jagiellon, Princess of Poland, had never expected to become Queen of England. Such a high title was never in the cards for her, as a woman of questionable birth, rumoured to be the daughter of her mother's lover and not her royal sire. She c...
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Marysia couldn't stop looking at herself in the mirror. The day was bleeding into the night outside, casting a faint red-gold glow through the window, so rare in the winter months and incredibly beautiful. But she wasn't looking at it, couldn't draw her eyes away from the shape of her own face and the silhouette of her hair and gown in the mirror. The design of her dress was much plainer than it had been earlier that day, but it was still covered in golden embroidery, glittering against the vivid green silk the thread was woven into.
"Zosia?" she called across the chamber granted to her, knowing her handmaiden was unpacking some of her jewels, most likely picking the perfect ones. She heard shuffling, and moments later Zosia was at her side, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her jittery movements.
"Yes?" she asked, batting at Marysia's hand when she tried to twist around and look at her. "Stop, I must lay the necklace against your collar." Marysia nodded, staying still so Zosia could bring the necklace in her hands around her neck. The gold was cold against her skin, but Marysia had long learned not to flinch at the feeling of it. Usually, she revelled in it. She used to spend hours trying on different jewels, giggling with the court ladies who were allowed to attend her. Those who were truly desperate to please her, frequently the youngest or newest ones at court, even unclasped their own jewellery and passed it to her without her having to so much as ask. It didn't feel fun now, and there was no laughter to be heard in the terrifyingly empty room. "This is beautiful! It truly brings out the colour of your eyes, Princess."
Marysia grimaced, fiddling with the fabric of her gown. Her shoulders sagged when she exhaled. "Do you not think it is too much?" she asked, almost horrified at her words. She'd always taken pride in being the most beautiful one at court, even surpassing her mother as she grew more plump around the waist with each birth and her beauty faded with age. It was so unlike her to even consider toning her clothing down a little, but here she was, chewing at the inside of her cheeks and roving her eyes over her figure again and again. "What if the Duke finds me too gaudy?"
A moment of silence, and then Zosia barked a laugh. "You? Too gaudy?" She walked around Marysia until she stood in front of her, grasping her hands in her own and squeezing hard. "Mare, my darling girl, you could paint your skin with gold and you still wouldn't look gaudy." Marysia opened her mouth to argue, but Zosia shook her head. "You are a princess of Poland, the great-granddaughter of Sigismund, Holy Roman Emperor. If anyone has the right to glitter like the sun, it is you."
Marysia suppressed a scoff. A great-granddaughter of the Holy Roman Emperor, what did it matter? Her mother lost her inheritance despite Emperor Sigismund being her grandfather. His legacy meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. The only thing he'd given her was the knowledge that their blood was somehow bound, but he was dead long before Marysia was born. And she was not the princess of Poland, not anymore really. She realised, almost with a start, that she would never see her home again. Something bitter crawled up her throat, but she swallowed it down before she had any time to regret all that had come to pass. It was too late for that anyway.
