Thirteen Lullabies | ✓

IX.I

The above is Georgiana of York played by Anastasia Tsilimpiou

It had been over a century since France, and yet, I hadn't lost hope. Now that we had fallen into this pattern, I knew for a fact that I would be seeing you again. So, no matter how long the days stretched by, no matter the years and years that passed me without noteworthy pause, I remained happy and hopeful, memories of you dancing in my head.

I was excited for what our next life together would bring, who you would be, what you would enjoy. Would you be like any of your previous selves?

I moved from country to country, finally deciding to settle in England, learning to paint from a kind neighbor. He asked me about my life, and the only thing that came to mind was you. So I told him a story of us, a blended tale of all of our lives together.

I told him how I was hopeful for a future together. He, of course, didn't know you were dead. He decided he liked me enough to teach me everything he knew, and soon, I had even surpassed him, earning myself a name in the households of the rich, English nobility. I spent many of my days traveling to their large homes, asked to paint all variety of things, from family portraits to wall-length paintings of their dogs. The wealthy were a strange breed.

One early morning, as I walked back from the lake near my small home, I received a message from a courier. At the time, the name Roman was highly uncommon, and led to many questions about my past that I was simply unable to answer, so I was going by the name Francis, perhaps a play on my previous name: Francois.

The letter read as follows: "Dear Francis, we are pleased to request that you come stay at the royal palace with us, and in turn provide us with portraits of the highest quality. You will also be paid a hefty sum of money when the portraits have been completed. A carriage will be sent to you today's morrow."

Stamped at the bottom was the royal seal, so I was certain this was not a trick. I, of course, was honored and happy to make the journey, packing a few belongings quickly.

I was somewhat aware of English politics, and I knew Richard III of York sat atop the throne, becoming king after having Parliament declare his nephew, Edward V, and all of his siblings, illegitimate. Richard's only legitimate son had died a year prior, and his wife, Anne Neville, had recently perished as well.

I was aware that he had three more illegitimate children, two daughters and a son, though I didn't know their names. So, as I made it to the palace, I looked on in awe, taken by the castle and estate. Beautiful green hills slowly turned to manicured lawns, gardens full of a variety of flowers, the likes of which I had never seen. I suppose I had developed an artist's eye, marveling at the strong architecture of the palace. However, I was not given much time, hurried to the throne room to meet the great king.

Standing below him, I realized there was nothing particularly special about him, nothing that stood out as "kingly". He nodded to me. "You are said to be the greatest painter in England." Very much to the point.