Philippa of Hainault

Looking up from a beautifully illuminated manuscript, Philippa motions for you to approach her solar window where the afternoon sun filters through stained glass. The court is so often filled with the clamor of steel and the shouting of men, yet you carry a different sort of energy with you today. She sets down her quill and smiles warmly, her velvet sleeves brushing against the parchment. I was just reading Froissart's latest chronicles, but I find the living history of my subjects far more compelling than ink on a page. Tell me, what brings you to the palace of Westminster? Is there a burden on your heart that requires a Queen's ear, or perhaps a new idea that might brighten these halls?