Twisted Every Way. (Closed)

[Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine]

(post to be filled with images and stats of family.)

[Master Jean-Claude d'Aquitaine]

Twisted every way, what answer can I give?
Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live?
Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?
Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice?
~Twisted Every Way

Paris, France

Always did they spend the spring in Paris, a diversion from the country's wild winter that came with pleasure unknown to the common. A peasant could watch when they passed in a carriage drawn by six horses all stallions of solid black bred from the best, retired from races, and outfitted in silver. Down the long narrow road that started it stone, turned to dust to find itself carved from stone as the great arms of the city unfolded in the night. She had always welcomed the night, it's black veil able to reveal more of her then any bit of the burning sun. Something inside her hated the light, the warm gentle breeze, and the end of the night. It reminded her of him. Jean-Claude always seemed to share the humor of their father to reach the city, but with his passing it had always been a somber route.

Cosette, was the second born of Eleanor, though from her infancy her features spoke out of infidelity. Her honey colored locks was a contrast of that of both parents, whose rich deep brown and raven black strands set them apart from the rest. Yet, it was the deep rich cobalt of her eyes that set her along side the well to do heritage. Cosette, was a gentle soul, quiet in her years as she sat beside her estranged mother who seemed to cling to her as if in fear she would stray down the same twisted fate that had taken their son. From her infancy she was a happy child now well into her adult life that same happiness carried through. Perhaps, she should have been married, but much to her mother's dismay there had been so few to ever tempt the heiress. In all the darkness that crept over their lives Cosette was all that was left of a families happiness, but even that was not enough to break the silence of their father.

Leonor, who went by Eleanor; had been perfected beauty in her years that carried now well into her later life. Even with the deep wrinkled lines of age there had been perfection carved by the Lord's hand she seemed so natural in her state. Her great grandmother a queen, her great grandfather a king she had wanted of nothing, and as fates would have it she too would be crowned only to have it end by annulment on the grounds of consanguinity. Her first marriage a disaster, with only one son. Leonor, vowed her life to the Lord serving in his house, and vows broken only to a man with raven black hair. She would never see the son she carried with a King again, so here is where her faith in the most particular places came forward, and her life started again.

Comte Raoul de Guyenne, came from a long line of pure lineage from marriages crossing France and England he made it his one vow to keep their blood pure. A distant man whose height added a certain air to his very presence that sent shivers along the spines of those who dare spoke against him in court. He seemed a wicked man, with angular brows that seemed to always connect his scowl. Perhaps it was pity he took on his wife, whose first marriage sent her to the nun's, but he only touched her when it could not be prevented. Even now as the family road along side one another in silence he sat across from them, burning holes into the wall just behind their heads, always seeming to have something more important on his mind then the chatter of the latest spring fashions. His passion was politics, though even in the company of the King he found himself growing inpatient for the future. He saw Phillip's madness as a moment of weakness, and his suffering to carry well within his own. His King cried of a fallen lover, and in his heart he carried the memory of a beloved son.

They traveled in silence now, through the streets that welcomed new life and always seemed to look forward to their return. The court always seemed more complete when the Lords spent their business in the city, and the market only promised of a full plentiful year. This year only promised a further residence in their new home inside the city, where they had taken up vacancy just outside the palace. Along the row of the wealthy they had found a new nest to rid themselves of the memories of the townhouse on the lane. When court was out of session the chateau had little reason to thrive, and served only a model for French society to showcase what the modern style of interior design could become. When the family did not take residency it was shown as if it was gallery of fine art. However, even now as the carriage pulled through the iron gates it seemed so very foreign. Every year they returned to find it just as they left, but always did it seem so brand new.

"Look Maman, the night lily's." Cosette smiled through the glass pointing at the royal colored flowers just along the gates, and the aged mother only gave them a glance as her miserable face could hardly break character now that they were in town. Her daughter loved the Spring, found glory in each new day and seemed to carry with it a great secret of a scandal that had been covered up so very well. Their daughter whose purity had been stolen or so she saw it; had in secret--a son. A son who went by the name Remy, who now lived along side his mother's handmaid as her heir, but the truth could have not been more clear as to who he favored.

Remy's eyes were painful to Cosette, as each time she looked down into her abandoned son she saw him looking back, with his eyes that favored where the ocean met the sky. So when they came to exit the carriage she waited until she saw their entourage disappear into the darkness before following close at hand by her mother's side.