Isabeau was genuinely shocked at how bored she was in this castle. There was so much more going on than back at the manor and she had a lot of free reign compared to usual, she’d even let herself indulge in selfish pleasures once or twice. But those “selfish pleasures” ended up being the one time she avoided her father when his eyes scanned the hall after a meeting. Isabeau had been too nervous to return to the library after her encounter with the princess. The princess had seen right through her fronts and was searching even deeper for something else. It was riveting and terrifying all at once to have someone looking past her fronts and at her for the first time in a while. Her stares were different from William’s playful prodding, a more intimate look at Isabeau’s emotions instead of a fun jest at commonality.
She decided it was for the best to stay out of the princesses range for as long as she could. Someone being able to tear through the brick walls of protection Isabeau had built up was someone to avoid.
She’d proclaimed this, yet, now she stood outside of the library entrance again; peering in to see who occupied any space between the shelves.
“What are we doing?” Isabeau jumped at the voice behind her, she quickly tried to cover any evidence of her shock but William’s goofy smile said she had done a shotty job.
Isabeau considered going back to her silent treatment but instead spoke up, “A library visit.” She turned and walked into the library, letting William follow behind.
“Oh well,” His words were scattered as he tried to catch up to her, “I haven’t seen much of you these days.”
Isabeau opted not to say anything about this, sending a glance that said “that was on purpose”.
William didn’t look discouraged in the slightest at her coldness. “But the library,” He’d opted for redirecting the conversation, “it’s beautiful, right? I understand why you would want to spend your time here…” He trailed off when he noticed Isabeau had picked a book off the shelf, he followed her as she sat in a bay window.
“Jacksworth?” He made a comically incredulous face, “Don’t get me wrong, a great poet, but his work is very dark. You know, considering he killed his wife and wrote about it.”
Isabeau was fed up with his ramblings and cut him off, “I am trying to read.” She emphasized the am, trying to get through to him. He looked entirely unfazed, so she continued.
“I don’t understand your never ending persistence at building a relationship, I am your trophy wife and nothing more; we’re not required to actually love each other, just produce an heir in due time.”
“But,” A frown appeared on his face as he continued, “we can be friends still.”
She said nothing. He took a deep breath before he continued, “I don’t actually want to… form a relationship with you… romantically, but I don’t want you to be forced into a docile position. I want to rule with you.”
“That’s an optimistic take.”
“I don’t think your understanding me-”
“I,” Isabeau cut him off again, “understand you perfectly. It always starts out diplomatic, when you have an emotional hold on me you’ll begin taking all that you want from me. I will not let another person have me in that way.”
William didn’t look upset at her harsh tone or the cold anger that shone through her deep brown eyes, he instead seemed antsy, like he wasn’t really saying what he wanted to say. Their conversation, however, did not continue.
“Lord William,” A voice said from a few shelves away, “are you in here?”
“Ah,” William straightened, clearly realigning himself mentally, “I am over here.”
A head peeked out from a shelf nearby, William’s servant.
“My Lord,” He bowed before continuing, “I was instructed to fetch you and bring you to the war council room. The vikings have pillaged various towns in Dent.”
Isabeau and William looked at each other in shock, it made sense that Dent would be susceptible to attack but the vikings increased silence before their action had made the attack stand out. William looked to her for approval to leave in the midst of such a heated conversation. Unbothered, Isabeau set off before him, heading towards the gardens to admire the flowers that were already starting to wilt.
-----------------------
In the garden Isabeau was finally left alone to think. She did what she has always done, dwell on the past. No, not dwell, reconcile with her memories in comfort. Isabeau stopped in front of a patch of royal blue anemones, rotating the smooth petals between her thumb and forefinger. The last person she has ever loved was her mother. Her mother had essentially sacrificed herself for Isabeau and Isabeau knew she would do the same for her. Love was probably deeper than trust and protection but that’s why she’d had with her mother, that was how she learned to love. After being heartbroken by her mother’s death she’d decided to never love again, never subject herself to the pain because, frankly, apathy bode well for her soul. William most likely was wondering how could she be happy, content with such emptiness; he must’ve never understood what it felt like to lose that happiness.
Wandering through gardens, reading mindlessly, and fulfilling her duty were tasks to her; means of survival. Survival did not come with friends or lovers. Isabeau trailed over to a gazebo where plants hung from the ceiling. She sat in one of the cool metal chairs, folding her skirts under her. Closing her eyes, she began daydreaming of the poem book she’d picked up earlier. She’d only skimmed one poem before William’s badgering hindered any brain function, but it was memorable. It talked about two cowards, one that quivered before any seeming threat, and one that struck out and eliminated any seeming threats. She couldn’t really understand what the poem was going for, she’d rather be the coward that had all their threats in line than one that laid subject to them.
A cool hand tapped Isabeaus arm that rested on the chair, causing her to jolt and open her eyes. In front of her was a dark skinned woman with a tiny fro on her head, Isabeau recognized the Lady of Mercia immediately.
“Sorry for startling you…” The Lady gestured to the chair beside Isabeau, “Do you mind if I sit here?”
“Of course not.” Isabeau said as the Lady took the seat next to her, giving a little jump when she realized how cold the metal was on her skin. “What brings you to me, my Lady?”
The Lady chuckled at her added “my Lady”, noticing her attempt to not seem rude.
“There’s not many of us Ladies in this castle, I thought it would be a good idea to meet you. Since we clearly won’t be going home for a while.”
“No, I suppose we won’t.” The Lady, like William, was not deferred by her short retorts.
“Well,” She paused for a second, contemplating for a concept to switch to, “it makes sense seeing as such pride driven men rule in utter chaos.”
Isabeau contemplated this before speaking again, “Anyone can be a terrible ruler or a great ruler, gender aside.”
The Lady looked at her accusingly, “You know what I meant.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Your hair is so long straight, it’s very gorgeous.” The Lady must’ve realized she wasn’t getting anywhere with this conversation and did a complete 180.
“Thank you.” Isabeau’s face hadn’t changed throughout the entire conversation.
“I can’t help but wonder what it looks like it it’s natural state,” The Lady reached for Isabeau’s hair but waited a breath away for Isabeau to give a nod of approval before twiddling with her hair, “You’re shrinkage can’t possibly be any more extreme than mine.”
“How do you know my hair is curly?” Isabeau asked, genuinely a little curious. Could she be like the princess and those records, analyzing her?
“I can smell heat damaged curls from a mile away.” The Lady of Mercia had a toothy grin as she said this. Isabeau felt stupid about her assumptions, but she decided to take a step here.
“I’ve heard you’re like a co-leader to your husband, is that… true?”
The Lady chuckled a little, “Yes, I know it's not common but I truly believe this is something that will come to a norm in all the lands eventually. I’m being a little presumptuous about shifting standards… but I am hopeful.” Isabeau felt no need to comment on her hope.
The Lady was about to continue but her mood shifted into something different, more wary about what she was saying then before. “I do come to you with a purpose today,” She admitted, “in the library the other day I saw you pick up that record book and began to wonder if you, like me, were interested in the politics of your soon to be land?”
Isabeau tried to hide it but she was upset, she thought she’d been away from such attentful stares but it seemed everyone in this castle were watching her every step. “If I were,” Isabeau began, “why would you like to know?”
“More women should be involved in ruling, I know you understand my point on that, and I wanted to discuss topics with you, or brainstorm some solutions for our lands together.” Her words were falling over one another, hurried to encapsulate her entire proposal without losing Isabeau’s interest.
Isabeau had a feeling that her father wouldn’t really approve of this, but it wasn’t a major commitment. All the outlets for her to take some things for herself were there, she didn’t even have to become emotionally involved. It was just picking up a hobby, she told herself. She would allow herself this, she told herself.
“I would like that,” Isabeau rushed out the words before she would regret it, “I have to go now but I’ll be ready to converse at any later date.”
Isabeaus words came out in a flurry, she hurriedly stood up and went off before the Lady could speak again. Before she could go back on her words and stay in the small box she confined herself to. She felt nauseous but wonderful at the same time. It was scary and new to take something even this minimal for herself, but it was also riveting. That night Isabeau could hardly sleep.
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