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[versigny]

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[versigny]

[ handsome, she thinks idly even as her eyebrows raise at his abrupt manners, and bold. fearless enough to skirt what she's beginning to understand as courtly etiquette even if many of those present have not yet accepted her as their queen - but she feels no animosity or threat, and so Margaery follows his lead as gracefully as her suppressed surprise will allow.

the music becomes more dynamic and she's naturally stepping into the circle of his arms and remembering the steps she'd just learned not two days past, with a faint smile on her face as if this is not an unexpected development. never let them see you surprised, Olenna had warned so many times before. if they see it, you've already lost. ]

Few people are daring enough to be so familiar with a queen they hardly know. [ she remarks as she studies him, committing his face to memory as they spin fluidly. the weight of the onlookers' gazes are easier to forget when she's in constant motion like this; despite her words, there's gratitude in her tone. ] Most prefer to wait and see if she'll even last before they attempt to befriend her.

[ and yet, her rescuer almost seems to be a former summer child himself, with golden curls that would even make Loras jealous, or perhaps pique his interest. however, the stranger's warmth almost feels frigid in nature, like beauty encased in glass to remain timeless and untouchable. bright blue eyes and a perfected smoothness to his dancing cement the whole appeal.

she suddenly misses warm brown eyes, but her smile never wavers. ]

Would you permit me to know your name, brave stranger?

[centers]

( courtly and social etiquette are what he exploits to get what he wants. manipulating manners to misguide people to revealing secrets and taking advantage of politeness to position and situate people where they ought to be. it's as natural to him as breathing is. this is his air, and he will take it in fearlessly and without reserve; not even cynwrig can wrestle it from him. at times, however, some attempt to push themselves into the game and tip over the board pieces that he so painstakingly organized.

the duchess of des hauteurs, for example. the old fox still has a bit of cunningness in her to steal the king away from his darling wife. it should be he who's dancing with the queen right now. but aramis will save her and set the board back. none of the nobles here will dare approach her while he's around. he knows too much of the dirt that stains their hands.

his ringing laugh mingles with the flutter of the clarinets, flutes, and strings meant to mimic flower petals and leaves dancing in the breeze. their footsteps also seem to drift across the breeze. the queen is a quick learner. )

What better name could I give than the one you already assigned me?

( perhaps if she had mentioned his good looks or wit. he doesn't need anyone to bestow praise on his appearance and intelligence, not even the pretty queen of ornefluer, for him to know that he's handsome and clever. so why state the obvious as they glide across the elaborately designed and polished wooden dancefloor? )

[versigny]

[ despite herself, she laughs; her laughter slow to break, but all the more genuine for it. now he reminds her of Loras in spirit as well - confident and charming and utterly unrepentant about both. her hand instinctively tightens around her mysterious dance partner's, which she quickly corrects and apologizes for with a flash of her dimple.

Margaery doesn't give him the benefit of confirmation, only counters with a question of her own. teasingly, ]

Is this how you are with the king as well, monsieur beau?

[ a quick glance as they spin yields a satisfying observation of those same faces, which had held such terribly menacing expressions only moments before, suddenly muzzled with nothing more than polite frustration. his doing, she assumes, which supports his ability to do as he pleases. a carefree wave amongst unmoving stone - only someone who doesn't beholden themselves to their station and reputation would take full advantage of such ability.

and be brave enough to side with the lone flower in a sea of hyenas waiting for the first sign of the king's displeasure or declining interest. ]

If you are, I would ask for advice on how to make him smile.

[centers]

( he knows loras. he knows olenna. he knows mace and knows of luthor and the entire house. but he only knows of margaery by repute and hearsay. reputation is a mirror that can reflect or distort, sometimes simultaneously. how do people perceive themselves and others? do they see clearly as they would a ship along the shoreline, or do prejudices, misconceptions, and emotions warp their view until it's like a ship on the horizon?

olenna tyrell is capable of such distinctions and quickness. it was one of the reasons why he and her formed an immediate understanding and respect of each other. they would grasp the other's dirty and bloody hand, stained not from greed but by duty and loyalty. they understood each other. it was why there was little need to speak directly to the young boy on the iron throne or his mother. their motivations concerned only themselves, and such avarice invokes shortsightedness. someday, the ship and sea will meet again.

is queen margaery capable of distinguishing such illusions, or would she become lost in the fog? as this is his first encounter with her, face-to-face, he can't say for certain yet. unless necessary, his instinct is to keep to the shadows and stay hidden. it's easier to learn about people when they aren't aware of whose eyes are watching them. once he knew she would become the queen, he saw no reason to introduce himself. if monsieur de philippe remained a nameless face in the sea of faces, it would be easier to observe and learn about her. who is she, and how does she perceive herself and others in her new home? she is quick to learn the steps to this dance, but can she learn the steps necessary for the dances to come?

for now, it's better that she remains ignorant of his real name and position. monsieur de philippe's reputation precedes him. )

As our assets and positions differ, I hesitate to offer any advice. What is successful for me may not be so for you. ( though monsieur de philippe can boast of a rapport with the king that few have, both guard aspects of themselves from the other. is it their nature, or is it apathy? monsieur de philippe can speak only for himself: they are friends, but mostly in name. perhaps that is better. )

Has he told you anything about his people? His actual people? ( not the those crowded around them with bent heads and words. none should claim them. )

[versigny]

[ confident, but not arrogant to the point of questionable judgment. most in this stranger's position would be boastful, eager to leverage the king's trust as a way to imply that their own good graces are just as important to please, or offering information that would be wholly useless. Margaery's thought of his beauty being encased in glass holds, but not just for his disarming physical traits; there is a smoothness to his words as well as his actions, effectively making it impossible for her to snag a footing in his weakness - for now.

a small frown contorts her expression and disappears just as swiftly. his actual people? ]

We haven't had much time to talk. Apart from... an incident the other day, I am reluctant to disturb his endless meetings, especially when I have full days of my own.

[ perhaps she shouldn't confide in him with so much honesty, but instinct tells her that Monsieur Beau is not someone she wants to lie to about her relationship with the king, especially when her footing is already shaky with everyone else. ]

I do not come from a country where anyone, even the queen, can simply come find the king without invitation. Usually, we wait to be summoned.

[ which she would bypass easily, if Constantin seemed as though he found her company delightful and wanted more of it - but while inexpressibly kind and sweet, he is also frustratingly difficult to read. and if that fine marble should crack, what would she find underneath it? instant displeasure? ]

Would you advise I ask him about his people the next chance I get to be alone with him?

[centers]

( aramis wonders what was discussed between the king and the queen after... her incident. contrary to popular tittle-tattle, his eyes and ears are not everywhere. there are some places and situations where they are shut; blind and deaf to everything that transpires. he would never claim to be a personal friend of the king's — indeed neither would he claim to truly understand constantin but he has figured out one thing about him. what the king treasures above all is respect: in decorum, thought, and privacy. so, out of respect for the king, aramis does not listen in on his private conversations with his brother, the captain of his guard, and his wife. (now, if a servant had accidentally entered the queen's private lavatory during their conversation and overheard what was said then aramis would not decline the information.)

but, so much is relinquished when one takes the throne that they must be allowed one escape. no one can be pushed too far. not even the marble king. )

There is a saying in Ornefluer, and perhaps a similar sentiment is shared in Westeros: "Fortune favors the bold."

( his piercing blue eyes notice their onlookers — some scowling, some smiling, but all observing as he leans down to whisper, his warm breath ghosting across her jaw ( — how's that for some tittle-tattle?), ) Your grandmother wouldn't wait to be summoned.

( if olenna had waited for chance instead of making it herself, her majesty would not be here to ask that question. yes, they are not living in her country; the games and maneuvers of westeros are neither appropriate nor applicable here. but they are not living in her country; the customs and traditions of westeros are neither appropriate nor applicable here. if the queen of ornefluer wishes to meet the king of ornefluer, she needn't wait for a summons.

after all, a wife needing an invitation to see her husband? ha! it would be laughable if it wasn't so pathetic.

he lifts his head and smiles at her, warmth radiating from him like the sun on a winter's day. )

[versigny]

[ Margaery's no stranger to proximity - she has pressed many cheeks to her own with little care for how clean they are, but Aramis, in all his golden glow, is not a vulnerable mother, or an orphaned child. and so the line of her back stiffens; imperceptible to those watching, but not at all to her dance partner, who will surely feel it with the placement of his hand.

it is not a response of fear, rather, but irritation in knowing that he's right. she has allowed herself to be more affected by the intimidation than she'd like to admit. when he smiles at her, he'll get the vague satisfaction of seeing the begrudging acknowledgment in her eyes, a brief, sharpened gaze that's immediately mitigated by the responding smile that remains as soft as ever. ]

You speak true.

[ and with excellent timing: the music calls for a brief interlude where she swirls under his arm as they walk, timed to easy beats so she's only pleasantly flushed, not dizzy, when they resume their dance.

by then, she has let go of her irritation entirely. ]

For someone who won't tell me his name, you're rather invested in the security of a royal marriage that you would not directly benefit from. And you know my grandmother well.

[ she studies Aramis, steadying her perception by making sure all her facts are in order before she quietly ventures a guess: ]

You're the man they call Monsieur de Philippe. The Minister of Intelligence.

[centers]

( under his hand, bloody and callused, he feels her back stiffen but he gives no indication of his notice, not even when as her gaze sharpens. the queen asks why he, an uninvolved bystander, would be so invested in a matter where he would not receive any direct benefits. but isn't it obvious? the happiness and security of the monarchy is of utmost importance for a minister. what is that saying — "happy king, happy life?" not exactly but the fact remains that the monarchy acts as a barometer to which the general public can set their moods. if the king looks happy then his people will be too.

most pertinently, however, is the matter of an heir. although constantin has lived a hundred generations and, by the grace of the twelve, he lives another generation, ornefluer still needs an heir. someone the people can pin their hopes onto. one less worry. perhaps, then, aramis can be forgiven for involving himself in an unrelated and personal matter.

his smile widens but, if she knew him better, she'd recognize that it sharpened instead. his white sharp teeth peeks out from behind his lips and curled golden mustache. ) What gave it away — my dashing good looks or elegant dancing?

( the music begins to ramp up to its final crescendo: in the ballet, the petals and leaves falling from the trees transforms wilhelmina's simple blue dress into a lush and gorgeous gown the color of the sea after a storm. at this gathering, aramis drops his hand from the queen's back to twirl her around. the music is almost over. the dance is almost over. any help that he can provide her at this time is almost over. she will soon have to face the ornefluerian courtiers again by herself. )

happy to end it here if you are? 🎀

[versigny]

[ he speaks as one who has deflected for a long time - someone confident enough in his abilities to reduce his charms to nothing more than the easily observed traits and talents. her smile widens to match his, as Margaery is only too happy to play along with his game for now. now that she knows her estimation is correct, their entire interaction makes so much more sense in hindsight - ]

Both. But mostly, the boldness.

[ it's a compliment. he is so obviously a man who shepherds the sheep, unafraid of their endless babbling and never stooping so low as to be one of them. unless on purpose. Monsieur de Philippe is more than she'd expected, and she's mildly startled to realize that it's a discovery she's pleased by.

en garde. ]

I thank you for your insight, and will endeavor to take your advice at the earliest opportunity.

[ the soft trills of the orchestra come to an end, signaling that dancers should take a step back and either curtsy or bow depending on their manner of dress. Margaery places a hand over her chest as a quiet extension of her gratitude as she curtsies, keeping her smile light and airy despite the natural tension that exists between them. she's forced to admit to herself that, at the very least, he's invigorated her sense of purpose. ]

Until next time, monsieur.

[ although her desire to dance has not yet disappeared. even if theirs has come to an end, the Minister of Intelligence will at least have the pleasure of watching the Queen directly approach obviously disgruntled nobles and politely request a dance, with a bland smile spared for the wives standing beside them. should the King ever return, the atmosphere will certainly be more charged than before. ]