Anne of Austria (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somanyopinions) wrote2015-03-15 07:20 pm
somanyopinions) wrote2015-03-15 07:20 pm
Debut
To think, an entire life could be bent toward the goal of grace and poise, yet still a person's self-possession could be utterly ripped from them in the space of an instant.
Anne's emotions, typically so tightly controlled, had spiraled helplessly from her grip, unraveling with each neat click of Rochefort's departing footsteps. Clutching onto Constance, she sobbed, shaking like she hadn't since she was a child, her mind so muddled with shock and fear that she found herself unable to move from the floor despite knowing, distantly, that to linger was further madness.
How had she not known? How had she not seen? What a blind and reckless little fool she had been, putting them all at such risk, throwing the Dauphin's lineage into question—
The Dauphin.
All at once Anne scrambled to her feet, light-headed and unsteady, and hastily gathered up her skirts to run into the hall. Her mind was racing— Constance. She could give the baby to Constance. There was little hope for Anne herself, but there might yet be time for Constance to flee, and she had escaped unnoticed with the Dauphin once before.
Breathless, Anne sprinted toward the nursery, only—
Only the corridor had changed, unfamiliar in the blink of an eye, pale sunlight exchanged for a dark and richly paneled hall. Startling, she tripped against a carpet runner and fell hard against the wall, jarring her shoulder with a wince. The fabric of her skirt still gripped hard in her fingers, escaped hair wild, she leaned there, eyes wide and muscles stiff as her heart hammered in her chest.
Anne's emotions, typically so tightly controlled, had spiraled helplessly from her grip, unraveling with each neat click of Rochefort's departing footsteps. Clutching onto Constance, she sobbed, shaking like she hadn't since she was a child, her mind so muddled with shock and fear that she found herself unable to move from the floor despite knowing, distantly, that to linger was further madness.
How had she not known? How had she not seen? What a blind and reckless little fool she had been, putting them all at such risk, throwing the Dauphin's lineage into question—
The Dauphin.
All at once Anne scrambled to her feet, light-headed and unsteady, and hastily gathered up her skirts to run into the hall. Her mind was racing— Constance. She could give the baby to Constance. There was little hope for Anne herself, but there might yet be time for Constance to flee, and she had escaped unnoticed with the Dauphin once before.
Breathless, Anne sprinted toward the nursery, only—
Only the corridor had changed, unfamiliar in the blink of an eye, pale sunlight exchanged for a dark and richly paneled hall. Startling, she tripped against a carpet runner and fell hard against the wall, jarring her shoulder with a wince. The fabric of her skirt still gripped hard in her fingers, escaped hair wild, she leaned there, eyes wide and muscles stiff as her heart hammered in her chest.
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