Madeleine Woodville

madeleine woodville
daughter of apollo • the white rose

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Personal Information

Full NameMadeleine Elizabeth Cecelia Woodville

BirthdayAugust 1, 1493

Age525

Zodiac SignLeo

Sex / GenderFemale / Female

SpeciesDemigoddess

NationalityBritish

EthnicityCaucasian

Sexual OrientationDemi-bisexual

Romantic OrientationDemi-biromantic

Relationship StatusSingle

AccentBritish

BirthplaceLondon, England

Living SituationFifth Cohort

Languages SpokenEnglish, Latin, Spanish, Italian, German

Weapon(s)Imperial Gold Double Bladed Scimitar; Imperial Gold Bow & Arrows

Personality

* **MBTI**: ENFP-A
* **Enneagram**: Two, with a Three wing
* **Language of Love**: Physical Touch

Madeleine Woodville is a woman with a vivacious, upbeat spirit, and yet has the thoughtfulness that comes from passing through many worlds — the world of royals, the world of commoners, the world of the dead. Some may find this energy exhausting, perhaps even idiosyncratic when it is considered that she was at the side of the dying during the First World War, and spent four hundred years in the company of the dead; however, having had death be such a presence in her existence has only seemed to increase her zest for life. And she still speaks in a stilted sort of way, not quite the rhythm that was familiar to her when she was young, but distant enough from the present for people around her to notice. Perhaps a striking thing about Madeleine is her empathetic nature, how prone she is to upset, not due to a lack of optimism but because she is too in tune with the emotions of those around her. She’ll cry out of sympathy, get angry on the behalf of others, but rarely will she find the time to be empathetic toward herself. When she does, it’s in the written form, not wanting to burden others with her thoughts. Sometimes that manifests in a fictional format, others in non-fiction, to be hidden away.

History

Madeleine Elizabeth Cecelia Woodville is the lost White Rose of the House of York — the child of Queen of England, Elizabeth of York, and Apollo — in that time has forgotten her, for her own safety and (at the time) protection of all that was meant to be. Of the Tudor dynasty, and of the way the cards were meant to fall without the divine interference of a God in love with the fair woman with distinctive red-gold hair; she is, in immortalised fashion, the result, and the symbol, of Apollo’s most beloved mistake.

In the cathedral of Rennes in 1483, an oath was sworn by Henry Tudor. That he would marry, upon defeating Richard III, the daughter of former Queen of England Elizabeth Woodville, Princess Elizabeth of York. At the time of the agreement, the princess was approaching eighteen years of age, and it would take the large part of two years — until August 1485 — for Richard to be slain on Bosworth Field, and the princess would not marry the King until January 1486. History says she bore him seven children — Arthur, Margaret, Henry, Elizabeth, Mary, Edmund and Katherine — only four of which would survive to adulthood, and the last of which would lead to Elizabeth’s death of postnatal infection in 1503; but history does not remember the other, the fifth child, a bastard (unknown to all at court) and daughter of Apollo, Madeleine.

Gods did not interfere in the dalliances and dynasties of men. That was well known — so why, when Apollo wandered the Earth, did he fall so for Elizabeth? There was a spirit, a fire within her, that those around her fought to control, whether that be her mother or her husband, but likewise a political genius left unrecognised, an underappreciated sharpness of wit, much unlike the consort of Henry VI, Margaret of Anjou, who had a similar spark but would be celebrated for such things far more than Elizabeth.

Apollo, it turns out when you cross-examine him, had a knack for assimilating himself into royal courts and even, on occasion, enjoyed visiting them. Perhaps it was his musical experience or his healing hands; he simply had skills, and a charisma that led everyone to embrace his presence. He became a part of the Lancastrian king’s court, and took quite a shine to the king’s vivacious queen — who, in Apollo’s book, he didn’t spend nearly enough time around — visiting briefly several times, usually to congratulate Elizabeth on the birth of her new child. And each time, the temptation grew a little, until finally he sought counsel from two of his fellows on the matter: Venus and Bacchus, and it transpired that the three of them made a mischievous, relationship-forging trio, because on the second-to-last occasion he visited court — with their help — he got one night with the Queen of England.

What came after was a classic example of a delayed reaction. Despite his initial happiness, and hers, reality came quickly to slap Apollo in the face. Were anyone to find out about their liaison, it would have devastating consequences — Elizabeth would be cast out at best, and executed at worst — and thus, though it weighed on his heart to do so, he was forced to remove her memories of it all. With the King returning to court a few days later, it would be natural to assume (should she be pregnant) that the child was his. And indeed, the result of one clandestine night was Princess Madeleine Elizabeth Cecelia of England and Wales, who seemed to possess Henry's dark hair rather than her mother's red-gold tresses, arriving with great gusto at the beginning of August, 1493.

Aside from the usual parade of being a royal child, her upbringing was uneventful. She wasn’t exactly doted on by her father, who had more interest in her brothers Arthur and Henry (the children who secured his royal dynasty) but her mother always made time for her and her sisters. It was often mentioned, in fact, that Dowager Queen Elizabeth Woodville, Madeleine’s grandmother who had died the year before her birth, would have adored her, would have seen a spark of vivacity within her that was apparent even early on. Talks of marriage for an alliance, of course, happened far too young as they always did at this time, children who could barely walk could find themselves contracted to marry a foreign royal or a close important ally, and if they weren’t already they would be eventually. Take her aunt Cecily, for example, to whom her third name is an homage, who had been married in 1487 to an ally of King Henry’s almost as soon as he’d married her sister. Marriage was a game of political chess and little more, but could you blame Madeleine if she grew up wanting genuine love?

The first time that Madeleine’s little world was truly disrupted was just shy of her second birthday, when her older sister Elizabeth died in 1495; this death would be followed in short order by a birth, that of her younger sister Mary. A younger brother, Edmund, came in 1499, but he had but a very short life that spanned less than four months. However, the first tragedy that truly impacted her in a way she can remember came in early 1502, a few months shy of Madeleine’s ninth birthday. Not so long after the happy news of her eldest brother Arthur’s marriage to Spanish princess Catherine of Aragon, news came from their residence that he had passed following a short but potent illness they could not name, that seemed to come from the air. She remembers mourning, the potency of it, how it seemed to take everything out of her parents, and how it transferred all the pressure onto spunky young Henry — who had been taking a religious path, but was now expected to become King of all England.

The occasion of the funeral of Elizabeth of York, Queen of England, was the last occasion upon which Apollo graced Henry the Seventh’s court, and where he saw his daughter in the flesh for the first time. She was almost ten, with a rather glorious head of red-gold hair, the spitting image of her mother. (It was awful that the first time he should see her was at a time of such upset.) He left a gift, in the hands of someone trusted, and vanished into the night.

The second tragedy was one from which she never truly recovered. After giving birth to the King’s final child, Katherine, who would fade even faster than her mother, postnatal infection stole Madeleine’s mother from her in 1503 (on her mother’s birthday no less.) She possesses what she will tell people is a replica of the Vaux Passional, a manuscript, but is actually the original — not that anyone who did not know what to look for would notice the difference. The difference is Madeleine herself; the one she owns features her next to her older brother Henry, crying into her mother’s marriage bed. It was duplicated, without her, when she was so neatly removed from history, but she has this, has it here. Her father was crushed — more miserly than would already earn him the title of ‘The Winter King’ later in life; he retreated into himself, and her brother Henry was devastated. (Their mother had always doted on him in particular, they were as close as you could get, even with a mother and her child. Madeleine still finds herself envying him.)

The occasion of the funeral of Elizabeth of York, Queen of England, was the last occasion upon which Apollo graced Henry the Seventh’s court, and where he saw his daughter in the flesh for the first time. She was almost ten, with a rather glorious head of dark hair, ostensibly like her father's. (It was awful that the first time he should see her was at a time of such upset.) He left a gift, in the hands of someone trusted, and vanished into the night.

They lost no more of her siblings, but they had lost enough. Her aunt Cecily was expelled from court over an unsanctioned marriage (she’d been devastated by the loss of Viscount Welles, her beloved, but had found someone else for her — Henry simply didn’t see it that way) and bit by bit, her world seemed to change in a way that perplexed her, but no change so much as the arrival of the small flock of Stymphalian Birds. Madeleine was eleven (and from that moment on deathly afraid of pigeons, even though that wasn’t what they were) and unlike her brother, had received no defence training. It wasn’t seen as ladylike for a woman to pursue such things, and her early onset admiration of warrior women had to firmly be swept under the carpet.

However, when the God visited for the Queen’s funeral, he touched base with a man there. A man he had placed at the court after the birth of his daughter, sworn to protect the Queen and his child. While he could not cure the Queen’s illness, it progressing too quickly and his being called for too late, what he could do was protect the child. As she vainly tried to put a pillar between the beasts and her, he unsheathed hidden daggers of shining gold from beneath his shirt to take them out of the sky. He then took the princess with him to be patched up, safe in the fact that no one had noticed that particular hullaballoo, and after he treated the few smaller wounds she had sustained, he drew out Apollo’s gift, and the letter which accompanied it.

By rights, Madeleine was too young to be told any of the content of this letter. That she was a demigoddess, a child of a god of a distant empire that — as far as she had ever been taught — had ceased to exist. That she was destined to go to a Camp one day, a place where those like her would be safe. That Henry Tudor, King of England, was *not* her real father, but she was *not* to suggest it or it would lead to severe trouble at court. That things like those birds would continue to come for her, as they had it out for her kind. At first, she believed it to be a joke. She was eleven, after all, not five. But her charged guard showed her what gifts he was capable of, and revealed himself to be her half-brother, just as related to her as her 'siblings' were. (It was in that moment that Edward Asquith, small-fry physician and guard of the palace, became like family to her.)

Apollo's gifts were her weapons — a golden weapon the likes of which she'd never seen before, a scimitar with two blades, and a similar set of bow and arrows. They had the same shimmer that Edward's sword had possessed, and soon she learned that they were the only sort that could slay most of the monsters that would seek to harm her, and were superior to mortal weapons. He assisted her in keeping them hidden, and in secrecy taught her the ways of defence, away from the disdainful eyes of those who would say it was inappropriate to engage in 'such masculine pursuits.' Through this training and with his help, she was able to stave off two further attacks in following years, but their rate was ramping up and Edward knew it was a matter of time before *something* had to be done. For Madeleine to stay would be a risk to all around her, but he could not simply take a princess from the palace. It would cause scandal, and lead to them being hunted wherever they should go. So, when several harpies descended upon them on the occasion of Madeleine's fourteenth birthday, he prayed to his father for assistance.

There was only one thing for it, at the end of the day — she would simply have to be removed from history, as though she had never been. Princess Madeleine would be lost to history, and thus she and Edward would be able to venture elsewhere, where she could live in relative peace until such day they could venture to the Camp, until she felt ready, without worrying about exposing herself and her parentage to the whole of England while fighting to survive. In a painstaking process, she was steadily removed from memories, from history. The original *Vaux Passional* was gifted to the princess, and once the process was complete, she and her guardian departed in the dark of night. The adjustment from royal life to walking into a world that had nothing for her was a hard one to make, but she preferred it to the alternative.

They travelled for several years, venturing across Europe, searching for safe haven and fighting off the monsters that came year on year in search of the young demigoddess, but it was not monsters that would come for Madeleine just as she touched the cusp of adulthood — but illness. She was quickly stricken, such that her naturally strong immune system and Edward's healing could not help her; they sought refuge in a cathedral in Italy, where Edward would pray to Apollo, scared for the life of the woman who had become like a sister to him. It was then that the mortality of Madeleine struck Apollo. He could not keep Elizabeth, and his daughter too was mortal, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her from the weaknesses of said mortality. To immortalise Elizabeth through her kin. And when he turned to his fellows for assistance this time, they said they would consent, if he would agree to certain favours and conditions.

Pluto requested that, in exchange for his aid, she spent time assisting him in the underworld — calming the distressed dead with the music she could play. Apollo consented to this term, and thus in the mortal world she appeared to 'die', though he assured Edward she did not and permitted them to say their goodbyes. For many a year — four hundred — she assisted him, forming an unlikely friendship with some, and a kinship with Pluto's wife, Proserpina. In that time, she saw Edward again, but likewise saw her siblings. It would be okay to tell them the truth now, of course, but they wouldn't likely believe her, so she simply did her job and smile at them. Seeing how it affected her, Proserpina assisted her in finding the one spirit she wanted to see most dearly, the one of her family who would remember her existence due to dying before she was wiped from each one — her mother, former Queen of England, Elizabeth of York. After falling into her arms and crying for some time, she found out Elizabeth had learned the truth of her parentage, and did not resent her for it. (*Apollo* was another matter, one it would take the former Queen a long time to disentangle.)

The next god who enlisted her help was one who had assisted in her birth, Bacchus. He enlisted her to play and celebrate at large and magnificent festivals, and then disappear as quickly as she had arrived; he did not require her for as long, a mere three years passing before she was returned to the underworld to await her next assignment. It did not take long. Iuventas — the patron of youth, of brides, and of young men — requested the demigoddess' help. The First World War raged on Earth, loss of life innumerable, and what Iuventas asked of the child of Apollo was for her to be there. To be a medic, and to be a companion, a witness to the deaths of those who had no one. She completed this task, though not without emotional cost — on the western front, she met a young British man, James, with whom she fell in love.

Venus' task was brief, but possibly hurt her the most. To be unselfish, to do what was best for the man she loved after he was injured gravely. Not to try and heal him for her own sake, but to do the loving thing and release him from his pain. (She won't admit it, but she wakes up sometimes at night when the memory of him going quiet accelerates her heart in her chest.) After the war, Madeleine sought peace, distance from the memories she had acquired. Apollo bid her go to his sister, Diana, and join her Hunt while she awaited the final test of his fellows. The Hunt, she discovered, did not suit her as much as she'd imagined it would, but it got her temporary conditional immortality (which certainly benefited Apollo's cause) and a community of friends, so she remained in the Hunt for some ninety-five years.

And what of the last years? She spent two and a half journeying, on a pilgrimage for knowledge recommended by Minerva and Mnemosyne, to ensure *she* would not forget history the way it had forgotten her. She journeyed through Europe, to Australia, back several times to Britain where she was born; the end point of her journey would be Camp Jupiter, where she would be able to reside amongst her own. Thus, at last, Apollo got his wish; the gods she had assisted agreed to grant the child of he and Elizabeth of York eternal youth, as she had met the terms they had set for him so long before.

Once she had reached the Wolfhouse, joining a small group of demigods journeying there, she continued to train. Teaching the demigods around her to better themselves. And once she had arrived, she knew there were deities who *would* vouch for her, and had made their willingness known to her — however, she wanted no part of even a relative nobility. She had left that life far behind in her past. What she asked instead was to be able, on occasion, to converse with her mother in dreams. This was granted, and each year, she would be able to speak with her mother for a short time when it is rumoured the barrier between living and dead is at its weakest.

Madeleine *willingly* chose the Fifth Cohort, where she has been a legionnaire for just under a year.

Powers

Powers

Appearance

Face ClaimLily James

Eye ColourLight Brown

Hair ColourDark Brown / Blonde

Height5 ft 7 in

Weight"Now, isn't that a bit rude?"

Voice TypeSoprano

Blood TypeB+

Distinguishing Marks

Body Style

TattoosNone

PiercingsNone

ScentVanilla; Jasmine

Family Information

FatherApollo

MotherElizabeth of York

CreatorN/A

Full SiblingsN/A

Half SiblingsChildren of Apollo

Guardian(s)N/A

Spouse

ChildrenN/A

Other Relatives

Relationships

Significant Other(s)

Best Friend(s)

Friends

Enemies

Other

Name Etymology

Given [ Madeleine ]From 'Magdala'; elevated, great, magnificent

Middle [ Elizabeth ]
[ Cecelia ]'My God is an oath'; 'blind'

Surname [ Woodville ]'dweller by the stream or the spring in the wood'

Trivia

Nickname(s)White Rose

Favourite ColourYellow

Favourite Movie*The Duchess*

Favourite Song*Heaven* by DJ Sammy feat. Do

Favourite FoodApples

Favourite DrinkMulled Cider

Likes

Dislikes

Loves

Loathes

First Kiss

First Crush

First Love

First Time

Pet(s)

Occupation

Sports Played

Instruments Played

SmokerNo

DrinkerOccasionally

AddictionsNone

Goals

Achievements

Biggest Hope

Biggest Regret

Best Memories

Worst MemoriesThe death of her mother; the deaths of her siblings

Mental IllnessesNone

Criminal RecordNone

Medical Record

Custom Trivia

**Character Playlist**

Images