Hello, dear readers.
Surprise. I'm not dead yet. I've been working on this on the side for quite a while now. It is nowhere near finished and TRR is still my main priority but I couldn't get this story idea out of my head and you are (un)fortunately on the receiving end of my ideas.
Queen Isabella is very loosley based on Queen Victoria of England's upbringing, etc. and I imagine this story takes place in England in the 19th century as well. That being said I know sadly little about 19th century England so any mistakes (and there are probably gonna be a lot) are totally my fault. For the sake of the story let's just pretend everything is at least semi accurate.
This is just an excerpt for now. I don't know when and if I'll continue writing and especially posting it. If you have any ideas, suggestions, etc. please let me know.
I also promise that I haven't forgotten about my other story so stay tuned for that one as well if you're interested.
Well, 'nough said:
~Bella's POV~
"Bow! Her Majesty Queen Isabella the First has arrived!"
I stand on the balcony of the grand palace overlooking thousands of people bowing down in the presence of their Queen.
It has been three years since my coronation. My father died when I was only eighth months old but I wasn't crowned until a year after my uncle, the king, died when I was nineteen.
Being the Queen isn't easy. There are so many different noblemen and dignitaries always trying to pull you on their sides or forcing certain opinions or decisions upon you.
It certainly hasn't helped that my father died when I was of such young age and my mother was always heavily influenced by other people.
People expect you to be the epitome of grace and dignity. You always have to be aware of your surroundings. The Queen has to be polite and well mannered. She is resolute and traditional. At the same time men still think they are above the other gender and thus above the Queen herself.
It makes me sick how a queen should represent and embody all these ideals but she can never be seen as a true equal. Intelligence and fairness are not traits the Queen has to possess.
"Your Majesty? The archbishop has asked for an audience with you."
Another man trying to force his will upon me.
I sigh silently and turn to the servant. "Very well, James. I will expect him in my study in an hour."
James bows but doesn't leave me alone but continues speaking. "Your Majesty, he asked to meet with you immediately."
I dismiss him with my hand. "An hour. Any important business will still be relevant then as well."
The butler silently takes his leave.
I let myself spend a few more precious moments in the presence of my countrymen and –women before I also – with another wave and small smile – make my way back inside the castle.
Eerie silence immediately engulfs me. Even after years of living in the castle it still doesn't feel like anything else than a sophisticated cage.
Another sigh escapes my mouth.
Why do I have to live this life of meaningless banter and court intrigues? Being sheltered and locked away in a gilded prison like a mindless doll waiting for its puppeteers.
Several times I've already thought about leaving this life for good but I could never bring myself to actually leave.
Duty binds me to this castle so it shall be my prison by choice.
The only thing that can be heard are my footsteps as I make my way towards my study to meet the apparently very eager and busy archbishop of Canterbury.
"Your Majesty! Finally you are here! I have been awaiting you for quite some time!"
As I already mentioned, one might be the Queen but that doesn't mean one will always be addressed in a proper fashion.
"And all your patient awaiting shall be rewarded, Your Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"A very, very urgent matter is necessary to be brought to your attention, Your Majesty. The Church of Canterbury is in dire need for reservations, my Queen…"
Oh, no. This will take a while.
~Jane's POV~
"Are you confident you can perform this task adequately?" The dark hooded figure asks obviously trying to make his voice sound deeper than it actually is, presumably to mask his identity – not that I have any interest in that.
Getting paid and securing a permanent position for the Brotherhood in England is all that should matter, all that matters.
"Yes, sir. It will be done as you requested. There will be no trace left of her and certainly nothing that could pose a threat to you and your circle."
The man nods, seemingly satisfied with my assurance. "Very well. Take this. You will get the other half of your compensation when the deed is done."
He hands me a black pouch. I don't bother to look inside. It's not my place to question or even check the payment. It soundlessly disappears into my cloak.
I bow to him, then swiftly take my leave.
The night is cold and particularly dark. Blackness seems to engulf everything. Even the street lights do nothing to lighten the dark roads.
What fitting scenery for this woman's untimely demise.
Guards patrol in front of the castle gates. At least that is what they are supposed to do. One uniformed man leans against the wall, presumably asleep; two others are in deep conversation. Surely they can't think the palace walls are enough to keep intruders at bay?
Buckingham Palace is soundly built but certainly not impenetrable and very certainly not as such for a single person.
There are only a few windows still enlightened, most of the palace lies – like the rest of the city – in complete darkness.
Getting past the security set up around Buckingham Palace is actually easier than I first assumed.
As I make my way to the open window visible from my earlier spot I try to formulate a plan how to get to my target. She's got to be in bed this time at night.
Then suddenly I can make out voices directly above my current position crouched under a large arched window.
"-sorry, Your Grace, there is sadly nothing I can do about your dire situation."
A woman. My target? This could be easier than expected. "This issue cannot be left unresolved, Your Majesty. Your uncle surely would have…" The second voice – a man – gets cut off by the first voice. "My uncle, Your Grace, departed from this world over four years ago. Unfortunately you have to deal with my humble presence and seemingly unsatisfying opinions." Another grumble from the second voice. "We have not yet concluded this business, Your Majesty. I do advise you to reconsider your decision very carefully."
Silence stretches. Has the woman left the room? Suddenly there's the sound a heavy door opening. "I do not react kindly to threats, bishop. Any business we might have had to discuss any further will have to be postponed until your next visit. I wish you well on your travels back to your church. Goodnight." An angry gasp can be heard from the apparent bishop.
"You can not-"
"Goodnight." Then the door slams shut.
All of a sudden the window I've been concealing my presence under is opened and you can still make out angry muttering from inside the room. The woman seems to be alone now.
I slowly try to take a peak inside. The first thing my eyes make out is a large book case on the opposite wall. Hundreds of books seem to be stored away in it. Every single one of it is looking very old and very expensive.
In front of the book case is a lone figure. The Queen. A soft gasp involuntarily escapes my lips. I've heard tales about the monarch's beauty but have not been in London since her coronation three years ago.
Now, as I am for the very first time confronted with the beautiful and surprisingly young woman, I can't seem to catch my breath for a moment.
Her hands slowly come up to the extravagant hairstyle. Probably hundreds of hairpins are holding her dark brown hair perfectly in place.
Well, at least until now as she is slowly freeing her locks of hair and they curl around her shoulder blades, pins cluttering in dozens on the ground.
Wanting to use the Queen's distraction to my advantage I pull myself up and through the window. There is still an assignment to complete.
She slowly rubs at her temples obviously trying to fight an incoming headache.
Then the brunette suddenly turns around and our eyes meet.
Deep brown locks with my dark blue eyes.
Her Majesty seems to be surprised for a moment; her flawless facial features betray her tension. To my surprise she then exhales softly and relaxes.
"I did not expect yet another nightly visitor. You have to excuse my inability to offer you anything else but would you care for a biscuit and some tea?"
She even smiles slightly! I can do nothing but simply gape at her trying to formulate an answer but failing miserably.
"B-Biscuits?" Queen Isabella laughs softly at my response, turns and arranges to cups, a kettle and a platter with several biscuits on a tray.
She then moves to pick up the train. Before she can complete her task though, my body reacts on its own accord and moves in front of her.
"Let me take that, milady." What is happening?
The brunette's eyes twinkle with amusement but she bows her head slightly in gratitude nonetheless. I pick up the tray and let her lead me to a small table surrounded by several plush chairs on the other side of the room. There I arrange the cups and the biscuit platter on the table and move to pour the tea.
Her hand on mine stops me. "Please, let me. You are my guest after all."
The Queen motions for me to sit on one of the chairs and I still trapped in stunned silence can do nothing but obey. She gracefully lifts the kettle and pours both of us a generous amount of tea. "Would you like some honey?"
Our eyes lock again. This is definitely not what I expected for tonight.
I silently shake my head and the monarch sits opposite me.
"I deeply regret you had to listen to my… conversation with the archbishop earlier. I fear he seemed to be quite shaken."
"You knew I was there?" A small smile plays in the corners of her lips. Her intense brown eyes bore through mine.
"Now I do, milady." She takes a small sip of her tea and I also clasp my hands around my tea cup silently staring into the dark fluid.
"As pleasant as your visit has been though, would I be right in my assumption that this is also not just a social visit?"
Her Majesty takes the platter and offers me a biscuit, which I immediately accept. Taking a small bite I let the silence linger for a moment longer before I answer.
"You'd be correct in your assumption, Your Majesty."
The Queen only raises an eyebrow but says nothing, clearly waiting for me to continue. I sigh and decide to just come forth with the whole truth.
"You are never to be seen again at daybreak at the latest."
Queen Isabella doesn't look very surprised. She must have known since we locked eyes mere minutes ago.
"You're an assassin?" I shrug but then – after a moment nod. "Of sorts."
The beautiful woman across from me softly exhales and closes her eyes, obviously thinking. I take my time to – again – appreciate her sheer beauty. Upon closer inspection her seemingly flawless skin is dusted with small barely visible freckles and she has a small scar above her eye.
After another short while the Queen opens her eyes again and smiles that small smile again.
"Just let me come with you then."
…
"Wait… WHAT?"
