sixthiterationlogs | 001 👑 Salve Regina

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001 👑 Salve Regina

WHO: Elizabeth Windsor
WHERE: Fountain; Inn; garden behind the Inn
WHEN: 6 April - 8 April
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Yes

Domine salvum fac reginam

Elizabeth had arrived late in the afternoon on a day that wasn't terribly auspicious in any way at all. Given that her life of late had been more unsettled and undone than she'd like, she'd rather enjoyed that this was a day where she could settle in and have tea with her family and not have to concern herself with the nonsense going on outside her own four walls but, apparently, that was not meant to be. Having politely excused herself from tea with her mother and sister to go and see about her children (who were supposed to be having naps and were likely not, as the case usually went), she had not expected to find herself sputtering and flailing in a murky pool of water.

Her natural inclination was to shout, call for help, and that simply caused more water to sink down her throat and into her lungs causing them to burn. She'd learned to swim as a girl - first in small ponds and then, later, in the freezing waters of the oceans off Scotland. She could do this. Once she had her head about herself she pushed herself upward where it seemed there was light and gripped at the stone edges of this strange pool.

She coughed and sputtered, coughing up the water she'd swallowed, and pushed the mop of her wet hair off her brow in order to get her bearings. She didn't recognize the place. It certainly wasn't the palace or any of the associated gardens, places she'd known most of her young life, and the sun was brilliant and bright, almost warm against her skin.

"I don't think this is England," she said, half a whisper. A knapsack floated up beside her and without a second thought, Elizabeth plucked it out of the water. She had no idea what was in it but it could prove useful later and she was nothing if not practical.

et exaudi nos in die qua invocaverimus te.

After having made her way away from the fountain park and the fountain, Elizabeth eventually found her way along a road to an Inn. It was a simple place, to be certain, and was not in possession of a telephone or any electricity. It was all right. She'd done without before and had lived under heavy rationing during the wartime years so this would simply be another time of austerity. She wasn't too good for that. Unlike her sister, she had never really developed a craving for the finer things and while they were nice, they weren't the things that were necessary. She could be content with very little, so long as her family was taken care of and her people were all right.

The thought of her family, her children - it pained her every moment that she was away from them and she had to actively push it down and remind herself that even in her absence, they would want for nothing. They were children of a sitting sovereign, after all, and her son would ascend to king if the worst were to happen.

The only way to avoid that particular sort of brooding was to keep herself busy and so she had. She'd changed into dry clothing upon arriving at the Inn and set herself to any task that was asked of her - she'd lit fires, fed fires, helped prepare the morning and evening meals. She had dressed a chicken and set it to boil in a large pot on a wood-burning range and felt, for all the world, like she'd done something when she finally sank down in a chair before the fire and let out a little sigh of exhaustion.

Perhaps if she simply worked herself to the bone each and every day she wouldn't have the time to dwell upon her unique situation.

et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum.

Elizabeth had taken herself out into the garden early and while she had no hat to shield her face from the sun, she still wanted to work and contribute to the collective effort. It was no mean task, to weed a garden, and while she occasionally liked to work with flowers or things of that nature this was no flower garden. This was a tidy and well tended vegetable garden full of edibles and this garden was part of the effort to keep the villagers in a healthy diet. There were no markets here, after all, and the only things they had were the ones they caught from the river, gathered from the woods or grew with their own hands.

It was a stark difference from her own life, a life that was sheltered and full of comforts even during wartime. She had always had the option of fleeing to Canada, after all, and that luxury hadn't been afforded to many. Her family hadn't availed themselves of it, her father being a frugal and practical sort such as herself, but it had been there. They'd actively made a choice. Here, there weren't many choices to make. From her understanding, one worked and one ate and eked out a survivalist existence in hopes that some sort of disaster didn't cause one to start over again.

As she knelt in the garden, pulling weeds by hand to keep them from choking out the tender shoots of the edible things growing along side them, sweat beaded her brow and her palms ached from blisters. She'd ridden horses, yes, but she was no woman to work with her hands on a daily and consistent basis. Until she built up proper calluses, it would continue to pain her. Well, unless she could get her hands on a pair of proper gardening gloves.

Elizabeth straightened a bit, flexing her right palm and wondered if this was one of those situations where her hand might get stuck a certain way if she overworked it. She'd been through that nonsense in Australia and wasn't looking for a repeat of the situation.

"Perhaps I should simply take a quick break from all this and come back, yes?"

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Peggy still finds it utterly mad to consider the notion that she could be friends with a woman who would go on to be Regent of her country. How on earth could that be possible? Yet, she's just selfish enough to want to believe that this could be her reality. "I don't know where to even begin," she admits.

"None of it is very promising, none of it good," Peggy notes. "Is there anything specific that you'd like to know about? Some places? Something? There is no exit," she admits, "if that was your first question."

"It was," Elizabeth said ruefully. "I don't mind if it's unpleasant as long as it provides escape but if there's truly no exit, I suppose I should give up on that strategy now before it takes root and swallows me whole."

She swallowed then, thickly, and thought about not being able to see Phillip or the children again. There were her duties as monarch to consider, as well, and she hated seeing things undone but there were contingencies for that. There weren't contingencies for losing a wife and a mother.

"I miss my children," she said, admitting a small, soft weakness.

Peggy has never truly expected to even have children, but she can still feel a great deal of sympathy for someone who misses theirs. "I've been here nearly a year and I've survived," she says, though she has lost some weight given the rationing they'd had to do at certain times. "I'm sorry that you're so far from your children."

That's one thing that she's noticed. There are none here, given that everyone appears to be a certain age. "How old are they?"

"Charles is seven and Anne is five," Elizabeth said. They were old enough to have their own personalities and their own interests - Anne was rather sporting and fond of horses and Charles liked to read and pursue bookish things. It was charming to see them grow. She was missing so much by being here.

"I spend a good deal of time away, considering who I am, but when I am home I like to spend as much time as I can with them so they know who I am, that they love me."

These are the future monarchs of her country, something that Peggy is still reeling with, but she tries to think about them as children whose mother misses them, finding that it helps her a great deal to help process it. The gossipy part of her that she tries to suppress would very much like to know exactly who the princess married, but she's sure to find out, eventually.

"I'm sure they miss you terribly," Peggy promises. "Your husband likely, as well."

"Phillip might not miss me as much," Elizabeth said. "But I'm certain he misses me some. He's used to me having a great deal to do and having to entertain himself, unfortunately. His latest ambition is to fly an airplane. Have you ever heard of such nonsense? The Prince Consort of England, flying a plane?"

It was ludicrous but it was Phillip's fancy and Elizabeth had to concede to it. There was so little he got to actually take pleasure in.

Peggy tries not to react outwardly as she puts the pieces together, only knowing one Philip and she has to admit that he's rather dreamy, but perhaps her taste in tall blonds is getting her in trouble. She flushes, mildly, and says nothing of this out loud, trying to smile along with the Princess' words, but unfortunately, planes are still a rather sore spot with her.

"They can be rather dangerous," she admits, "though I do know a rather idiotic man who manages, so I believe anyone can," she says, thinking of Howard and Jarvis both, who have such a skill hidden under their belt.

"He's a bit fascinated with them which would be fine if he was not the Prince Consort to the Queen," Elizabeth said, her tone taking on the fretful clucking of any proper English housewife.

"Then again, I suppose I should allow him his pleasures. He's given up everything for me - his religion, his name, his country, the Navy. I suppose he ought to get to fly a plane."

It's a terribly strange thing to think about. Peggy is used to having to fight for what she wants, but she can't imagine having everything taken away from her like that, only left with the barest of hobbies. "I don't understand, if it's not wartime anymore, why shouldn't he be allowed to fly?" Perhaps it might be dangerous, but so is walking across the street, if done poorly enough.

Then again, perhaps Peggy is simply danger-minded already and has become inured to the notion that something so simple could be dangerous.

"Because he might crash, naturally, and then we'd not have a Prince Consort of Britain," Elizabeth said. "He has to be around to assist me with my duties in addition to...well, I have an heir and a daughter but I would like to have more than one heir in the event something happened."

After all, her uncle had abdicated and that had been unheard of - there was no telling what might happen to Charles and Anne.

"Well, that's a reasonable worry, but silly," Peggy says stubbornly, raising a brow. "He can just as well be hit by a car or struck by a fallen tree branch. At least if he's flying, he can do something he enjoys," she says with a huff, though she knows that this logic is not something widely held, clearly.

"On the other hand, I lost the man I love in a plane crash," Peggy says. "So I'm afraid it is very possible and I wouldn't wish that heartbreak on anyone."

Elizabeth tried to decide how she'd feel if Phillip were to perish in a plane crash. It wrenched at her, destroyed her, and she had to push the thought from her mind; she'd have duties to carry out same as she had after the death of her father and she would just have to carry on. She'd always have to carry on. Grief couldn't be seen publicly.

"I suppose you're right," she conceded. "But I still don't have to like it. Besides, Parliament has to decide if he can or not. Not me."

"How ridiculous," Peggy says again, because she finds the whole business truly mad. It's not even like they have the reach to come here, but Peggy has grown exhausted of men telling her what to do with her life and she can only imagine what might happen if they attempted to impose themselves on her like this.

"I don't know how you can manage with that, I'd feel inclined to give them a piece of my mind," is her sharp remark.

Elizabeth laughed loudly, completely unlike herself. She relished the opportunity to speak her mind for once and in this place, at least, it seemed that she might be able to. She hoped that Peggy wouldn't think ill of her for doing so.

"To be the Queen is to have old men tell you what to do all day long and never to have an opinion of your own. It's tiresome, to say the least. I envy you."

"I assure you, I may not have a royal duty, but my life is still riddled with men, young and old," Peggy says with the distaste that comes of thinking about men like Jack Thompson or all the ones she'd come into contact with at the Arena Club, not to mention the legion of them who kept expecting her to fall in line simply because she was a woman.

"You may run into some of those men here, but you're absolutely allowed to tell them off," Peggy insists.

"Ah, excellent. I'll be certain to exercise my newfound authority," Elizabeth said, laughing lightly. The freedom to be herself, to tell someone to sod off just because she could? That was something she'd never experienced in her life. It would take getting used to, yes, but she wanted very much to explore that freedom here.

"It will be strange to get used to not having a schedule but I think...I think it will be nice. It's never been my life before."

"The free time is lovely at first," Peggy finds herself agreeing, recalling how uplifting it had been. That joy had turned to boredom and then angry frustration when she realized how little she had to do. "It will be nice, I assume, to be able to choose what you wish to do. I don't presume to know anything about the private side of your life, but to me, it always seemed so regimented, as though your life was already set for you."

"My life has been set for me since my uncle abdicated. Any dreams of freedom died that day because I became the heir. Even still, I had hoped I would be a much older woman when I ascended to queen. It wasn't meant to be," Elizabeth said wistfully.

She gave Peggy a smile. "You must always be frank and honest with me. I haven't had the luxury of any friends like that and I sorely need one in a place like this."

That part, Peggy remembers. She supposes that she should have been expecting the Princess to become the Queen, but she also hadn't expected it to happen so soon. "I'm still going to need some reminders," Peggy feels inclined to warn. "I'm not sure how easily I can simply switch to speaking to you as if you were just anyone. You're royalty," she points out.

"I will try, though," Peggy insists, because she also doesn't want to be seen as far from trustworthy.

"It's quite all right," Elizabeth assured her. "Try your best and if you slip up, it's going to be just fine. I know you don't mean anything but respect."

She actually rather liked Peggy, truth be told, and she hoped that in time the other woman would come to see her more as a friend than a royal. It would be rather nice to have a friend in this place.

Peggy's still fighting the urges to bow and curtsy, but she feels like with time, she'll be able to do that even better. "I'd like to be able to call you a friend, properly. I know it can't be easy for you, and my silly little issues shouldn't stand in your way."

"I'll get better," she vows, with firm determination. "I won't allow myself anything else."

"I have absolute faith that you'll succeed," Elizabeth said, giving the other woman a gentle smile. She was just another person, just another anonymous cog in the wheel of this village society, and she hoped in time that Peggy could see her that way.

"If not, well, I don't think I'll hold it against you. Being polite is always an admirable quality."

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001 👑 Salve Regina

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