Disclamer: I don't own any of this. it's all Tamroa Pierce. I am not making any money from this it is all simply for the joy of fellow Tamora Pierce fans.
Jacqueline of Isère fought to keep a straight face as the Gallan progress paraded through the main streets of Corus. The last time she had been here was when she was a child, and at that point in time she had no clue that she was actually the Crowned Princess of her country.
The people of the Lower City stared up in a state of awe at the progress of nobles from a foreign country. Everything on progress was covered in bright colours, banners flown showing the Gallan royal coat of arms. Ladies and lords all dressed in their finest riding gear as they paraded into the city. The shining steal from fully suited knights winked in the sunlight, calling attention to the thing they guarded with their lives. The heir to their throne.
Back in her home land she was a subject of great controversy. The council members all hated her, for she was a symbol of everything their kind hid. She was a symbol of adultery, seduction, black magic, and unclean blood. A horrid mix of half common and half royal. A mar on the pure bloodline that her father belonged to.
Her face was hidden inside of her hood; she dare not look up at the risk of someone recognizing her from her days as a child of the Rogue. Jacqueline's mother had been the Gallan queen of the Rogues. That fact alone had caused Jacqueline to travel to all ends of the Eastern kingdoms. She had been born with a strange knack for languages, it helped her mother greatly when discussing deals with other Rogues.
The princess' ladies in waiting had insisted on her pulling back her hair back into the traditional Gallan cap. Her dark long wild tresses alone were the ghost of her now deceased mother. The only thing truly linking her to her father was the undeniable eyes and bone structure: high flat cheekbones, and a narrow - but determined - jaw line and screamed Isère.
Her eyes were the piercing Isere blue. They were nothing like the famed Conte blue; that warm sapphire colour that caused minstrels to write love ballads about the un-obtainable Prince Jonathan of Conte. The Isere eyes were an icy piercing blue, as cold and stoic as a bitter winter's night. With a mere glance Jacqueline could send shivers down a man's spine, it was a talent her mother had used many times to manipulate several stubborn men.
The delicate lips were a soft pink, they matched her pert nose. She actually had a very strong regal look about her, one that was bred from years of lessons and hardship. Men pined to reach into her soul and crack out the wild part of her that lurked inside of those ice blue eyes and wicked grin. Women hated her for the confidence and strength she portrayed.
The city's streets were just as busy as they always had been, small children with rags as clothes running around the streets, some playing with friends others, stealing their dinners for the night. Street performers gathered crowds for their accomplices to steal purses off of the rich merchants from out of town. The vendors called out from their stalls trying to attract buyers, but it all just added noise to the lower city slum.
She looked up for a moment, soaking in the foreign culture. Trying to remember everything she had learned from her previous visits to Tortall and her etiquette lessons. The proper way to speak to nobles, the proper way to curtsy to her familiars – which was not to be confused with a curtsy to a kind lord – and to remember when to keep her mouth shut. Jacqueline's instructors should have known better then to assume that the princess would ever keep her opinions on politics to herself.
The royal council wished to breed Jacqueline into the perfect queen. The perfect queen to accompany a proper king. They sent her to Tortall in hopes of parading her around as the future monarch of Galla. The crowned jewel, only there for show and to find a good husband. But the pass rogue had a different plan on her agenda.
Jacqueline would never accept being the one behind the scenes. She always had to be the one calling the shots, and making herself known to others. The princess did not plan to take on a spouse once her father's health finally failed. She would reign her country on her own accord. She would make history as being the first common born woman to raise herself up into the station of reigning monarch.
Conservatives would have nothing to do with it. But Jacqueline knew that there were many more Progressives out there, willing to support her plan. She was a fighter, never had Jacqueline been the one to sit back and watch, she made things happen and acted on instinct.
Unfortunately Jacqueline still had many loose ends that she needed to tie up from her days of being a wild child, thrust into the light and station she would have never dreamed of. The Gallan had made many mistakes, one of which was getting into some serious debt with bad people. She was not in finical debt of any kind, but she was indebted into the service of a persuasive noble who had tricked her in a great time of sorrow.
"Milady, as we are leaving the slums and moving up into the cradle of the palace where all the rich merchants and nobles are, it would be wise to address them," a lord riding beside her informed her. He was her father's second in command, the head of his council of noblemen. Duke Louis of Chavilignon. He was the one who was in charge of this whole progress and he did not want Jacqueline to be there.
"Certainly I do not have to speak to them?" Jacqueline retorted looking up at him. Just pass his shoulder she thought she saw a familiar face. The strange man made eye contact with her for a split second, his hazel eyes boring into her as they widened in shock. He disappeared into the crowd before the Gallan princess had time to react.
"No! I insist that you do not speak at all. Keep your words to a minimum," he practically spat at her. Station was the only thing keeping him from throwing her from her saddle into the crowd of common people.
"I will speak all I want Duke Louis. You know that if my father heard about you trying to keep me in silence again he would have your titles," Jacqueline threatened, her voice was cold as she looked back at the old man before her. His pale face was flat and sour looking. It always held a look of complete distain for everything that was not tradition.
Her threat shut the noble up quickly; he looked away from her eyes. None of the conservative nobles could bare look at Jacqueline. She was of dirty blood and in their eyes never be a noble.
"By address the crowd I meant that you should wave and smile. Like a good princess," he shot back tartly, his back so straight it looked like a poll had set him like that.
"As the council wishes," Jacqueline replied coolly turning her gaze at her surroundings. She did as she had been told and smiled kindly at the people. But she refused to wave, she was not the council's puppet.
"When we ride into the palace you will be introduced to the King and Queen. You will then be sent to the rooms which you will stay in for the next year with your ladies in waiting where you will stay until dinner. Is that understood?" he informed her rudely. Jacqueline kept a straight face, her lips barely moved as she retorted.
"I will go where I please once my duties as Princess are complete. After retiring from pleasant banter with the local royals I plan to explore the palace grounds as I so please, without my infuriating train of ladies in waiting." Jacqueline's voice was still cuttingly cold.
"I suggest that you do as you are told Princess," the title was like poison on his tongue. He said in with distaste clear in his tone. "You are a long way from home and daddy is not here to take care of you and your idiocy."
"I take care of myself Duke. You would do well to learn that fact," Jacqueline spat and pushed her horse up the line of nobles.
She worked her way up, in between two knights she often chatted with about various weapons and war tactics. They were the ones who taught her how to use a bow properly when they were squires. They were the only ones who simply saw her as an equal. Status and gender did not mean anything to these men. Jacqueline only wished that there were more men like them in the world.
A/N: I did it. I took a horrid slice of my past writings and fixed all of it. I'm completely rewriting this story and I tweeked it's plot. Making it a bit more mature. All the other chapters besides this one haven't been updated yet, I'm sorry if it looks very choppy right now but I would suggest just ignoring the other chapters untill I rewrite those ones as well.
For everyone to fully grasp where I am now going with Jacqueline's character I'm going to give you guys the little pieces that make her. She is based very heavily on Anne Boelyn as they potrayed her in the Tudors. I always had an image of what she looked like in my mind and was dumbfounded when I first saw the show. The actress who played Anne Boelyn - Natile Dormer - is completely and totally what I viewed Jacqueline to look like. But now as I re-vamp her a bit to fit into my new plot line, try to imagine her with a touch more of a 'tough girl' edge to her. Basically Jacqueline is a big hunk of Natile Dormer's Anne Boelyn with a bit of Michelle Rodriguez.
Thank you for putting up my artist's temperment and my completely flakely and unconstant updates. (yes I realize that two years is a long time for an update).
