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#oc: eulalia of bethlehem
rhaenyraslaena · 10 months
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Duty is the Death of Love Chapter VIII
The Plague of Heaven
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Between the white gloved fingers a rosary of carnelian and turquoise beads is held gingerly, accompanied by a cross of shining, polished olive wood rosary with the body of Christ ornately carved into it.
A gift from Eulalia in their years of childhood – apparently she had managed to find a beautiful collection of carnelian and turquoise to shape and polish, before stranding the beads together, and carving the crucifixion out of the wood herself. A girl of ten years with fingers torn and ragged by hours of creation and carving, her smile as warm as the summer she had given to him.
“Oh, you’re really quite terrible at your prayers, Baldwin! Especially your Latin and your Greek! This is to help you.” She had teased him so relentlessly for it – the piousness did not come with as much ease to him as it did with members of his family. “You’re heir to the Kingdom of Jerusalem – the best one there would ever be if you studied your prayers.”
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rhaenyraslaena · 1 year
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Duty is the Death of Love Chapter II
The Lioness
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“Through my ambition, you see.” An explanation of simplicity as if it is an image with clarity of a day filled with azure skies and no clouds. “My children gave me ambition — I had to protect them and secure their futures. I still do.”
The implication that is veiled by her last statement brings gooseflesh along her arms, further made cooler with the night’s sweet breeze. Her elder siblings by Jocelyn have been long and well wedded to matches that had delivered influence and wealth into their household — does there exist an insecurity to their noble house that she does not hold awareness of?
“What else could you be ambitious for—?
A silencing of the question upon her lips as she is drawn into the slight warmth of slender arms, a carefully manicured and ring laden finger pressing against the softness of her lips. “Shh. Even I must keep some of my secrets away from you, Princess.”
“I. . . trust that you do not threaten the peace of our kingdom. That is all that I ask of you, from a princess to a lady.”
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rhaenyraslaena · 1 year
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Duty is the Death of Love Chapter III
Of Betrothals and Alliances
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“Your eyes told another story, Princess.” His voice is more amusement than warning, arms arriving atop of his desk and his chin is leant against the knuckles of fingers woven within one another. “They may think themselves as bribing me for their protection — they’re desperate with enemies coming from multiple sides — but I do not intend to pocket the money myself.”
“Then by giving it to me, are you saying that I should use this gold myself?” She questions with half amused bemusement that the gold is not insignificant in price and would be well worth a dowry or perhaps payment for a wedding to emerge in the future.
“I have no need for the gold.” He shrugged his shoulders as if an old lion would shrug its own shoulders and give the fiercest of yawns before settling into golden grasses, stretched for a long and most pleasurable nap. “Your mother Bethania hails from Tulkarm, yes? I know that dinar is common there in currency.”
“Perhaps I shall take you up on this offer and use it for my wedding then.”
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rhaenyraslaena · 1 year
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Duty is the Death of Love Chapter VI
Affection Realized
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“Eulalia. Have you come for me?”
His voice is the singular welcome interruption in the privy of her thoughts as she departs her gaze from the ornate mosaic work that washes the chamber in shades of blue. His mask does very little in the way of disguising even the merest excitement within his voice, his bandaged and silk entwined arms ushering her to him in display of enthusiasm.
“It appears that I am not so skillful in hiding my intentions.” Without a hint of hesitance in her gait, Eulalia joins Baldwin, breath catching suddenly on her lips when a bandaged clad hand wraps itself about her wrist with a tender kind of affection.
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rhaenyraslaena · 1 year
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Duty is the Death of Love Chapter V
Only Human
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“He, like myself, was one of the practically wild children running loose in the palace.”The explanation is provided from Eulalia herself this time, her freshly brushed curls brushing at the bottom of her back. The lightness of a smile curls her lips despite the stream of tears that had long stained her cheeks. “A dear childhood friend of mine, he was the son of one of the physicians to King Amalric.”
“Are you quite sure that you are remembering our shared childhood correctly? I was a very studious child, always at my father’s side to learn the ways of a courtly physician as you preferred to climb the pomegranate trees and eat to your heart’s content.”
“My lady!” An exclamation of light hearted surprise as Núria stumbles over her feet and lands atop of the bed next to Eulalia, the intricately braided bells within her plaits ringing as she does so. “You couldn’t have been so wicked! Before I was there?” Sun browned fingers tug at Eulalia’s in expression of amused disbelief.
“That is not merely including the times that she would fling the pomegranates at innocent victims.”
“That was one time, Jabir.” Eulalia is firm in her correction, the back of her palm rubbing away the tears that had long gathered at the corners of her eyes. Though the amusement that paints his face is easy to catch sight of even through the obscuring of the screen. “I only had done it because one thought himself to be quite funny to pinch me as I napped.”
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rhaenyraslaena · 1 year
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Duty is the Death of Love Chapter IV
Mosul
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His question is soft and his breaths behind his mask even softer as they both peer into the manuscript of maps that had been initially penned for a distant king of Sicily. Though he is layered in silks and cottons, the slight touch of his chest against her back is a comfort of a warming sensation and further warmed by the hand that has clasped upon one of her knees.
“Ah. You remember that I love the sea.” Eulalia laughs as if she possesses no care within this world, the tips of her fingers tracing about the storied Pillars of Heracles that are illustrated in the west.
“My role as king has not corrupted my mind to the point where I would forget about you.” It is half a declaration, for she does not sense even a hint of anger though there is the appearance of a firmness that has her swallowing back a breath. “I merely wish to know how far you wish to go.”
“Indeed I should like the waters beyond the horizon, where the light gives way into the dark.” A tilt of her head away from the maps and she is searching within his knowing eyes – his bright eyes not jaded by cynicism but brightened with curiosity and need for knowledge. “But Jerusalem. . . This will always be my home.”
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