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winter, year 307
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 darrow, giulietta, 28, lady, oakwood
giulietta darrow
lady, currently at Oakwood, 28 years old, played by Nori, shipper , dev

lady giulietta darrow

twenty eight

place of birth

currently in

marital status

face claim
rebecca ferguson
Of course she has to leave this place. Fate demands it. When the letter arrives from Windemere (a reply to countless ones preceding) Lady Edith wastes no time relaying this new triumph to her only daughter. She’s in her chamber, practicing a new dance with the other girls of Whitehall. A twinge of sadness flashes on Giulietta’s face, scarcely seen. It’s quickly covered by decorum and a smile. Nevermind that she only just learned the lavolta, and still sometimes stumbles after her partner lowers her to the ground. She doesn’t feel at all prepared. But fate, it seems, does not wait for adequate preparation.

“It’s an honor to wait on the queen.”
“Mother...I know.”

The king’s court is the center of everything, the beating heart of Eldur. Everything worth having must flow through. She considers this later, as the pole boats drift by under her bower window. Further away than she can see from her perch, the river stretches from Windemere. It winds through the countryside towards Whitehaven. She sighs, marble-faced like one of the rising buildings of stone. Its first and proudest daughter, Giulietta loves Whitehaven as if she laid each brick with her own hands. Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene: making beauty, throwing it away, then making more...but the white stone of the old city feels enduring in a way nothing else does. Whitehaven is made for secrets; the buildings lean so near one another as if to whisper something hidden between them. They could have existed for a thousand years, trading gossip on the river banks. They could exist for a thousand more.

“We will miss you,” her mother says, without prompting. It spills from her lips, uncontained. A Speranzi in name only; she’s still reluctant to speak her mind even after years away from the Blue Mountains. The white city, loud and libertine, never quite penetrated. She loves her daughter with restraint.

“I’ll miss you,” she says after, softly.
“Mother, I know.”


She doesn’t sense it, their passing. She doesn’t feel the whisper of their ghosts against her skin. Instead she stabs at white silk with half-formed flowers, some with red thread, some with blue; and pretends not to hear when the king shouts at Queen Aine. His voice is muffled through the wall, and she imagines it’s the wailing of the wind against a ship’s hull. A squall, a hurricane; anything is preferable to this. Giulietta casts a pointed glance at another among the queen’s ladies, reproaching her for looking startled. They all sew, eyes downturned. They look like statues at an altar: the picture of penitence (if prayer alone could quell the king’s rage). She bites the end of one long thread, holding its fibers between her teeth to rip it free. This small aggression betrays her. It could be Cenric in her jaws; and her, with her embroidery needle, ripping him from Aine and everyone else. With a quick turn of her head the string is severed and her hoop falls to the floor. The needle’s sharp edge pierces her, if only slightly; drawing a single bead of blood. No one speaks, but they all glance up at this sudden flash of movement. When the king is in a foul temper the queen’s ladies are like a herd of does: easily startled, wary to any suspect footfalls in the grass.

“Beg pardon,” she apologizes to no one. Her soft voice pierces the silence like a needle too. She reaches to retrieve it from the floor, ties another knot, and starts again. Red thread trails behind her fingers like a river of blood. But this wound is fleeting, what comes next is the death blow.

“My ladies,” a pageboy clad in Cenric’s livery bows into the room. In his fist is a letter, already opened (what chance would their king miss to read a message that was never his?). It bears the seal of the four pointed star. Giulietta stands, her sewing cast aside. She seizes the parchment with uncharacteristic force. What follows is a letter addressed from her brother Tristan, but written in their aunt Lorenza’s artful hand.

His honorable lordship, my brother, your father, Amis Speranzi...your lady mother...their ship...we feared the worst...on the beach...I am sorry, Giulietta.

She cannot read the rest. From the corner of her eye she spies something etched in the corner. The date is hidden behind a blot of ink. She holds the parchment to the fire. The backlight casts a yellow glow through the paper, faintly illuminating the writing beneath. “This was eight days ago!

If her whisper pierced the room, the sound of Giulietta Speranzi’s rage strikes it like a battering ram. The gilded prison of Cenric’s court kept her from the truth. How long did he withhold this letter from her? Did his spies pore over it for some poison, or did they simply forget the news of her parents’ passing among a thousand stolen missives? Did it not matter to them? She rounds upon the chamber door as if she might reach out and choke their king with her white hands. Poised for treason, seething at nothing but carved wood, she hears Ophelia clear her throat. That steadies her. Hardly one to swoon, or worse, faint; Giulietta presses a coin into the messenger’s hand. It isn’t his fault he came with tidings of death.

She casts one last meaningful look at that door, where Cenric lay inside. In the most quiet, secret place in her heart she curses him. Somewhere in the countryside her cousin Edric is waiting. He is safe, gods willing...and she is waiting too.


She returns to court thinner, paler, but more determined. Sudden tragedy rearranges everything. She thinks on how she might transmute tragedy into triumph. Her brother Tristan is Lord of Whitehaven now: her guardian, technically. Calhoun Darrow is betrothed: this is also, in Giulietta’s opinion, a technicality.

She says as much to Cal, who would sooner share her bed. Only men see things so simply. But there are rules she won’t break, although many mounting desires breathe lies into her ears. Still she does not budge. There is one lie she won’t tell herself: that they can do without this life, and hunger for nothing. She will always want more, and so will he. It's in their very nature. Yet there still remains that great impediment.

“Forswear yourself then, I don’t care.”
“Of course you don’t!”
“Betrothals are broken all the time.”
“It’s a question of honor.”
“So your honor outweighs mine?”

She opposes him, eyebrows raised, as if staring down a bear. There is a stubbornness ingrained in her, unmoving as a stone; she does not waver. Perhaps it is unwomanly. If so, she doesn’t care. She loves him and will stand for nothing less. In her heart she knows he belongs, has always belonged, only to her. There is no one else. Without him there would always be a hole in her heart, just his size and just his shape.

“Look who sits on the throne,” she breathes to him; her voice just above a hiss, “what is a man’s word worth, really?”

Though she is angry, for a moment she looks at him tenderly. He is a rebel at heart, although he might deny it. He has a flame she stokes. Understanding this, Giulietta lets him come to the decision on his own. He can have her, all of her (and her money), or not. However obvious the answer may seem to her, the choice is his alone. Thank the gods he chooses right.
Giulietta Darrow (called Lita, or 'ghoulietta' if one of her brothers was teasing her) is a woman who gets what she wants. Born in Whitehaven as Giulietta Speranzi, she is fully a product of that city. She presents the face of a perfect lady - but has a reputation as a force to be reckoned with. She is politically minded and ambitious, unfailingly loyal when she chooses to be, and utterly relentless when it comes to pursuing her own goals. For many years she toiled in the silent hell of Cenric's court, in service to the queen (at that time) Aine Morcant. Her loyalty to the dowager queen was and is absolute. Even after her marriage she refused to leave Windemere and go to her husband's lands until after Cenric was dead - and even then, only after she saw his corpse with her own eyes. She loathed Cenric, and likely anyone associated with him.

The eldest and only daughter of the now-dead (thanks to an old family curse) lord and lady Speranzi, Giulietta took her considerable dowry with her to Oakwood when she married its heir, Calhoun Darrow. That this was rather scandalous at the time did not phase her. Now she's basically a chardonnay mom, though some people might still be aghast about the old days. She puts a lot of effort behind maintaining her relationships with people at court, so likely anyone frequently at court or associated with the king could be a friend (or enemy). She's also the king's cousin, and a member of a particularly sassy family. Oakwood might be a little provincial for her, but she's found purpose in maintaining a great house of her own. So it's lit.

Lovers is a no, she's already married to her prince charming, Calhoun Darrow. That they had to jilt some other lady in order for Giulietta to get her way...well, to make an omelette you gotta break a few eggs. Now they're total couple goals and Giulietta has gone about adding some #culture to Oakwood. Trips to Windemere are likely also frequent because you can't quit the game of thrones. HMU on discord with any ideas. I may edit this once her plan for world domination fully solidifies.
28, est, nori#9774

posted on Jun 6 2018, 09:21 PM, permalink
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cat lady, currently at hogsmeade, twenty-five years old, played by ani, shipper , dev

Congratulations, you've been accepted to Sword & Crown! Please remember to fill out the face claim and member directory, as well as the magic claim and house claim if they are applicable to your character. Have fun roleplaying!

posted on Jun 11 2018, 04:23 PM, permalink
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