The Seven Deadly Sins

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…." The prayer was repetitive and uninspiring to me as it most likely was to all those around me. Though I did my best to keep my head bowed and reverent as the wizened priest droned on continuously. I fingered the powdered blue and gold rosary in my hands, the beads were worn and faded with age. It was a gift my father had sent me when I had celebrated my first birthday in France alone, a gift I had not appreciated until his death. Well not appreciated but felt obligated to act as if that was the case. I barely knew the man in most cases, his only influence had been the aged books in my childhood library.
A soft cough from beside me directed my flaky attention back towards my sister Rosalie. She had her golden head bowed in the same reverent position as I did but she was angled more towards me than the priest in the pulpit. Her clear blue eyes examined me curiously, almost mischievously before going back to the Preacher before us.
"It is said you were on a horseback ride with the King," Her voice was pitched low, so that it nearly blended in with the chanting prayers around us. My expression slipped for a moment, my dread seeping through at the thought of being known as the King's mistress when it was not true. But I quickly covered it with an emotionless mask, knowing Rosalie would twist it into anything she liked if she had the chance. I kept my eyes focused on the mournful robes of the priest, the harsh black of his doublet making his age far too prominent.
"It's not very virtuous to take part in gossiping my sister," I barely moved my lips when I spoke, having mastered the art in France with Mary.
"Blessed art thou children…."
"So it is true then?" Her pleasure was evident and I made no move to disapprove it, knowing that if I did, she would consider it fact, "I see you have become French all the way through."
"I would think it runs in the blood," I replied bitingly, an elder Lady in front of us threw a disapproving glance over her shoulder. I bit down on my tongue for not being more careful and hoped that Rosalie would cease her pestering, but of course it was futile.
"I wonder how your fiancee would react to your dalliance with King Ivan," She thought she was intimidating me with a fruitless marriage, I smirked inwardly, if anything, speaking to Ruben about my so called 'dalliance' with the King would only speed up the promise Ivan made to me.
I smiled slightly, surprising her with my easiness, "I am all too sure that you intend on finding out. The smile became more vindictive as I glanced sideways at her, "Though I am not too sure that will be the only thing you'll speak of to my fiancee."
Was that fear that flickered across her face? It went too fast for me to tell, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean dear Lizzy."
I could feel the venom in my voice, blending perfectly with my cordial tone, "I want to personally thank you for tending to Ruben's needs after his injury during the Jousting tournament. I am glad to know that someone shall be there for him while I am not able to."
"Oh dear God," Her voice became completely horrified as she forgot herself for a moment.
People around gave her an offended look as they continued their useless chanting, "….Blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus….."
"I do not know what you mean," She stammered, but it was far too late, "But I…I am sure…"
"Do not fret Rosalie," I whispered sweetly, "Your actions will be judged appropriately as they always have been."
"What do you mean by that?" Venom and sharpness had now returned to her voice again. Her delicate hands were now clenched into fists around the glittering coral beads of her rosary. I snuck a glance at her from behind my protection of long, dark hair, slightly curious as to how she planned on holding herself in this situation.
She did not do so well, her posture was erect, her lips tight and her clear blue eyes were narrowed into dark slits. She was allowing my words to overwhelm, the savage pleasure I felt increased, I had control over her now.
"I would be surprised if this was true my sister, for it seems many speak of you whilst in their parlors or sewing amongst the Ladies." I chose my words carefully, knowing that in order to remain in control I must keep my fury in constant check. I would take out my revenge slowly, it was like sewing a tapestry, every thread must be done perfectly lest the mistake be shown, "I would imagine you've at least gotten the slight idea of their thoughts on your dallying."
"You little wench," She hissed suddenly, my eyes widened at her openly insulting words but luckily there was a dismissal in the mass for the Queen's Ladies. Still somewhat shell shocked, I arose from my pew silently and walked into the aisle to follow the procession of Jayna and the other Ladies. I snuck a glance at Rosalie who still sat stiffly, both infuriated and horrified. I smirked slightly but felt somewhat….sad that this was what my relationship with family had come to. I did my best to shake it off though, there was nothing I could do about what had happened, Rosalie had long since deserved those words.
Once we had left the chapel, I quickly excused myself from the group and made my way, alone, through the halls. The soft silk of sapphire blue gown slid along the stone tiles, making a sound similar to a serpent's hiss. My eyes were unfocused, my thoughts traveling without my own consent. I paused beside a window and stared out onto the bleary courtyard, rain poured down onto the castle, turning the light gray stone to a dark charcoal. Would this forever be my home? Trapped, lost within the confines of stone until madness and temptation drove me into becoming what I hated.
A mistress.
Or I could get married, if it were not Ruben, I knew there would always be someone else waiting for my hand. But who? Would he be old? Would he be young? The latter seemed far less likely, especially considering the fact that most sons within my age group were being trained as soldiers or about traveling the countries. In other words, they had little time to acquire a wife at the moment and why rush them? For men had no expiration date to bear children, it did not matter if they were ugly or unintelligent, as long as they had money they could acquire a wife both young and beautiful.
But maybe, by some stroke of lucky, there was a chance I would find someone tolerable. My mind wondered over the possibilities of a tolerable husband but the practical aspects of the idea became a little bit more….creative. He would be tall and muscular…So when he embraced me, I would be enveloped by him and the feeling of utmost safety. He would look like he was cut from stone with defined features but his lips would be soft and encouraging. His eyes would be dark and hooded, deep gray ones that would flash silver in the light. His hair would be long and color of corn husks when ripe, brushing the space between his shoulder blades and falling into his face.
I sighed contentedly and my eyes closed, imagining the man coming up behind me. He'd wrap his arms around my waist protectively, holding me close and lovingly. I would never have fear of others around him, he would protect me no matter what the costs were. He would lean down and brush his lips against my ear as he whispered huskily, "Elizabeth….," in his strange, foreign accent.
Hmm, this vision seemed more like a viking prince I read of in my youth rather than a possible candidate for a husband.
I gasped as I felt teeth graze my ear, now that was not my imagination! My eyes flashed open and I tensed, but I quickly recognized the familiar frame pressed tight against me. His arms were like iron wrapped around my waist, washing away the safe and warm feeling my vision gave me.
"I see someone was thinking about me," Ivan murmured, obviously amused as his lips traveled down my neck. I smiled slightly at his idea, Ivan must be so used to women being completely infatuated with him that he probably thought my mind now revolved around him. It was rather ironic that I had just been dreaming up a man who couldn't be more of an opposite to him, "Say something in French."
"Vous tees use piqure suffisante," I made my voice low and sensual despite the offensive meaning, 'You are a cocky prick.'
He chuckled and turned me around to face him, his gray eyes glowing cheerfully and a lopsided smirk was on his face. He wasted no time, leaning into me and pressing a firm kiss to my lips. He was in a good mood that was clear to me. I responded with less enthusiasm, unable to find the same enjoyment of danger as I usually did. His hands pressed me tight against him, stirring some arousal within me but for the moment, I strangely yearned for something more.
As I appeased Ivan by wrapping my arms around his neck, something odd and new flashed through my being. It was knowledge. I knew what I was longing for, even if it was only slightly, it was enough.
For once in my life, I did not want face paced fire that flew through my veins but something deeper. I wished for a slow burning hearth that would warm my being, fill every inch of me with a comforting heat that kept me feeling safe, whole and….loved. Rather than lusted or desired for as I usually came to be.
Oh dear God, did I really want a husband?
Ivan pulled away from me with a cheerful grin, "You seemed quite upset during mass, my lovely little spitfire, I thought you could use a bit of an uplift."
"I appreciate your effort my Lord," I murmured, managing to smile somewhat. As shallow as Ivan was, at least he had noticed my row with Rosalie and how it had affected me. He cared at least an inkling to bring it up rather than ignore it as many others would do, only bringing it up amongst childish gossip. But I would not burden him with my family issues, I was not so weak as to break down to someone else. I leaned into him, taking care so my chest pressed against his tantalizingly. I raised my gloved hand and brushed my fingers across his face, tracing the dark half circle that laid under each light gray eye, "You seem quite tired Ivan, I would have thought someone with the likes of your habits, sleep would come easily."
"My habits?" He questioned, the grin never leaving his face.
My smile grew a tad truer, "Yes, your habits my Lord," My fingers slid down his cheek to touch his lips gently, "I would presume a man whose bed is so constantly occupied by the likes of English Ladies would appreciate every moment he had to himself for sleep."
Any other man would have been infuriated by my rash words but Ivan was able to find the humor within it. His grin bloomed to an impossible strength on his handsome face, "Ahh Miss Elizabeth, a man such as myself would find no solace in sleep if free moments like those could be spent fantasizing about a woman like yourself."
"You will have to work on your compliments monsieur," I made sure my words had a French lilt to them while I fluttered my eyes at him, "A woman must always think herself singular and sole in a man's life, no matter how many others there may be."
"Oh my dear woman, you must know I long only for you," He declared dramatically before closing the space between us and pressing a sweet kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, he grabbed my hand and began pulling me down the stone hallway, "I have a gift for you."
"A gift?"I questioned, hurrying to keep pace with him. He made a sudden turn down a narrow hallway I had not noticed before, it was far darker and smaller than one would find comforting. My dropped open in shock as I realized what the hall was actually used for. I tugged on Ivan's hand until he paused, he turned to me with a curious expression, his pale face shadowed in the dim light, "You are taking me down a passage way for whores!"
Ivan's teeth flashed in a smile, "That is not a very respectable term for a Duchess mademoiselle." He continued to pull me down the hallway, "It is either this way or through the main halls and I do know how much you like your privacy as do I on occasion."
Deciding it was quite useless to struggle with this rather offensive decision of his, I allowed him to continue pulling me. Why did I allow him or man in general to treat me like this? Was I too involved in my stature in court or the upbringing I had that it truly offended me? Or was I just too convinced of the games I so carefully played with them?
For thats all it was, I suppose. What I created in my life was nothing more than a move one would make in chess. Every single relationship I pursued were only ones that proved to benefit me socially or able to gratify my danger seeking, sinful desires. None were ever truthful, none were able to get more out of me than the little I was prepared to give. Even Ivan, who was like a drug for me to some extent, could be easily dropped if I really decided he no longer appeased me.
I was a true woman of court, my mother would tell me if honesty were ever to prevail between us. Soft silk and curls on the outside, cold ice and stone on the inside.
A light chestnut door appeared at the end of the hallway, bringing hope that this wretched darkness would be put to an end. Ivan made no move to answer my silent curiosities but pulled a small brass key out of his trouser pocket. He pushed it into the lock and turned it, a satisfying click reached both our ears and the door groaned open. Light flooded into the hallway and I gasped at what laid in the room before me.
It was his chambers.
King Ivan's chambers.
The four poster bed was magnificent, blue and gold swirls intricately embroidered the thick comforters and curtains. The wooden rods and bed frames were covered with precise engravings of battle scenes and strange lettering in what I assumed was latin. Besides the massive bed, high arched ceiling that looked closer to a cathedrals roof than one of a bedroom. The walls were painted a sapphire blue that reflected back the dim light from the large candles on the walls.
Golden frames surrounded the large windows looking out onto the courtyard and the stone balcony a glass door led out to. Rain was pouring down and distorting the view but light still came through the room from a small mosaic fireplace in the corner of his chambers. I could feel some warmth coming from it and I shivered, wishing I could be closer to it.
"Come," Ivan tugged on my hand and guided me towards the fireplace, seeing me shiver, "Please warm yourself up a bit while I go retrieve your gift."
He released me hand and strode into another room, closing the door behind him as he allowed me bask in the warmth. I sighed and willed the warmth to fill me, when it did not do so, I pulled off my thin gloves and bent down. With another groan when the heat did not reach me, I fell to my knees and held my hands dangerously close to the fire.
The flames danced before me, the colors melding together to form indistinct figures in their depths. I always loved fire, it could be so beautiful and it gave heat to those who came close to it. But it could destroy things; homes, towns, anything it wished to. It had an automatic defense to those who tried touching it or better yet, those who wanted to capture its light. I let my eyes close and the exhaustion I had been pushing away sweep over me. This was all far too much for me sometimes, how I wished I could just return to France, even if it was just for a short while.
Two hands were suddenly on my shoulders, kneading in on the sensitive pressure points. I sighed softly ad leaned my head back against Ivan's chest, the knots slowly being worked out of my tense being.
Ivan pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek, "I'm not the only one whose tired I suppose."
I opened my eyes dreamily and twisted to face him, a smile playing on my lips, "What did you wish to give me my Lord?"
His smile grew but I tried not to notice a strange glitter of regret in his eyes, but it lasted only a moment before it was replaced by his familiar mischief, "There is to be a ball within a few days and I wished you to wear something of my own picking."
He bought me a gown? I was shocked but inexplicably pleased by this, I had never seemed to have enough gowns to be satisfied with. And it was my absolute joy to be in the height of fashion as many thought I was, after all us women had so little ability to express ourselves and control what became of us so my dress was one of the few things I solely controlled. And oh I how I would hate to disappoint my followers.
Ivan saw my excitement and helped me stand up, his hands lingering on my waist and arm, "It isn't from a local seamstress Elizabeth, it had been imported from Germany especially for you."
My eyes widened at the sight of the gown that now laid across his large bed. The dark purple silk was like a lovely river of darkness across the deep blue comforter, a color I knew would look utterly smashing against my skin. A sweetheart neckline was embroidered with ebony jewels that continued to cover the form fitted bodice under the breasting to the hips that sparkled in the dim light. It was patterned like flowers and swirls, my eyes traced over the elegant beauty of it greedily. Paneled skirts spilled over the bed, black lace edging the hem along with the off the shoulder sleeves that barely covered more than a few inches of my arm. It was a gown fit for a Queen, not a Duchess.
"It's beautiful," I breathed, I hesitantly brushed the expensive slake and looked to Ivan in awe, "It is truly for me?"
"No, I intended on wearing it myself," His sarcasm made me smile even wider and he chuckled, "I knew I would find a way to get that awful frown off your face."
"You have most certainly found a way." Forgetting myself, I leaned into him and kissed him deeply, knowing this would be the only way I could pay him back. Ivan's hands that were resting on my waist tightened and pulled me closer to him. His tongue pried my mouth open and I allowed him to devour me completely. Why were his kisses no longer giving me the delightful spark as they had before? Was I truly becoming moral?
No, it was not that. It was because I knew I had concurred him, I knew I had complete control over him. He was no longer the demanding man who I had first encountered when I arrived in England but a man who succumbed to being kind and considerate to get the most of what he wanted. Something I should have been more than happy with but oddly enough I was not.
I had concurred the King of England, now what shall I do?