The Chapel Royal

Perhaps so my lord.

Are we to... *Elizabeth fair wishes to scream at herself for being such a foolish child and chides herself, insisting she must pull herself together.* ...am I to send my lady ahead to attend to matters? Or wilt thou retire to thine own apartments and meet us for breakfast later this morn?

The latter, I think. I shall linger here a few moments, that you and your attendants may see to things.

*Elizabeth, still a little unsure what ist ahead of her doth beckon her lady to her*

Til later then my lord... cousin.

*Elizabeth begins as though to mod to them both with Queenly dignity then doth change her mind and embraces her heavily pregnant cousin as best she is able. Then she doth flee the room afore she doth become overly emotional.*

*as she doth begin to depart the room, her lady doth gasp and take hold of her, attempting to remove the overly embelished aspects of her costume. Though not one for dressing down, her appearance ist a little too fancy for the Queen at this time of the morn. Tiring quickly of a mildly hysterical lady in waiting the Queen doth bat her out of the way and opens the doors to exit the Chapel, stepping over the poor guards who were no match for the Queen of Scots*

*lingers in the chapel, ignoring the priest and praying.*

*having indeed had some experience in such matter, Juan plans on waiting a good while before joining his new wife in her chambers.*

*begins a rosary on the beads given to him by Marie, as a way to keep the time, rolling his eyes whenever the priest launches into another rant about heretics.*

*Marie, unnoticed by anyone kneels down beside Juan, using her shoulder to reach the ground safely and pulls out a rosary of my own to pray with*.

*gives the Queen a nod of greeting*

*In a very quiet and respectful voice* In case we never have the chance to speak again, Felicitations on your new marriage to my cousin. I bid you a long healthy marriage and at least 12 healthy Princes for England.

As you shall be King of England as I shall be ...

*Sighs, realizing I have to say*

Queen of France.

*the bishop finally drinks himself into a stupor. The presance of a Queen of France and a son of Spain in the Queen's own Chapel at the rosary being too much to bear.*

*finishes his rosary, rises to his feet, bids the Queen of Scots goodbye, and leaves, followed by the priest.*

*their steps echo out of the chapel and the doors close behind them. Then there comes a meaty thud, for apparently the new Prince-Consort has grown tired of being harangued and punched the man of god square in the nose.*

(OOC: Juan I doth believe it will cost thee two Hail Marys and at least 5 Our Fathers to pay for thine sin of punching a man of God. hehehe sorry bad Catholic Humor ... *Goes off to pray my own Hail Marys for mine joke of poor taste*)