A slight difference of opinion..., Tag: Beatriz!

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

Even for someone who thrived on organisation, planning and perfecting, the Duquesa was having something of a stressful day. Several days after their arrival and yet the maids were still an issue, particularly where clothing was concerned (Elena had an inkling that Beatriz felt the same way). It was quite difficult to convey the two's own brand of meticulousness in Sundrili and outfits were inspected and dismissed as fast as lightning as Elena had tried to convey, with increasing sharpness, exactly what she was looking for. Finally, after dressing in a rather fetching gown of emerald green velvet, she’d spent the best part of her morning with her confessor. This had provided at least some small level of comfort. If Padre Forneiro had not been permitted to accompany her on her travels, Elena knew she’d have been driven to the brink of distraction by those who around her. But then had followed lengthy hours with Don Tomás , the Espanian ambassador, sorting out the distribution of gifts, the correspondences with the other countries they’d visit, a review of the known situation at home. It was exhausting and it’d given Elena a headache that lingered still, unrelenting and highly frustrating. She’d staunchly refused the Don’s offers to allow him to handle the rest of the affairs himself and had barely had time to attend to her toilette before she went to afternoon mass. After that she’d dashed outside for just a moment’s air to clear her head that, aside from the throbbing pain, was full of the worry that only the most intense prayer can bring upon a person. But now she had to go back to her room and begin a long series of letters home before it was time to dress for dinner. Consequentially she was beginning to wonder where the day, let alone her sister, had gone.

Perhaps inevitably, after spending so much time with Beatriz on the ship, sisters forced together like caged birds, the two could hardly wait to get away from each other once finally on land. Elena always continued resolutely in her mission to love her younger sibling, after all, she’d invested much time praying for her soul, but nevertheless she was quite certain that she did not and could not like her. Any vague affection between the two had been maintained by distance, something that was now definitively lacking. Not only did they come as a pair but every one of Beatriz’s actions, any slip of her conduct, could get them chastised as a pair. Then the domino effect would begin, until it reached Sareilla, Espania and then, worst of all, Felipe. And it would be Elena’s fault. It was precious, precious cargo she had volunteered to carry and unfortunately it moved, preened and shouted every thought that came into its head, whoever heard be damned. Still, she soldiered on, and no one had been killed yet. For Elena, Beatriz was another item on a long, long list of things that had to be upheld and monitored. It would just require a little more effort and a little more tact, both she possessed in droves.

Unfortunately these thoughts did not do wonders for her headache and Elena found herself wondering whether she had a moment to pause, perhaps to sit down as she was nearing the greenhouse anyway. After a moment of internal debate on an impassive face, she decided that she would go inside. When she did, it was difficult not to gasp. It was incredibly beautiful, something she almost grudgingly acknowledged to herself as she walked, pausing to admire some of the more magnificent specimens. With a swell of pride she noticed that the almost tropical temperature allowed a small patch of Espanian Allamanda to flower in a corner and wondered if she could ask a maid to fashion a bouquet. With a small half-smile, Elena conceded that even if she did not care for the climate or the food, the surroundings of the Sundrili palace certainly offered ample compensation, positively a haven of quiet, perfectly arranged beauty. And for now it looked relatively deserted, so she was in the perfect position to take advantage.

Settling herself upon a marble bench, her sharp eyes first darted left then right before she raised a hand to her temples with a little wince, a weakness that would not have been displayed if anyone had been within her sight.. The headache would apparently not be forgotten with pretty sights and thoughts. Perhaps she should go back to her room; she had a long, long letter to her husband to write regarding the tenants on their estate.

Or better still, perhaps she’d stay here a few minutes; try to simply wait it out. The perfumed air was soothing, after all… Procrastination was not one of Elena’s strong suits, but she would give it a try, given the alternative.

[Infanta Beatriz Mendoza]

Beatriz let out a groan at the thought of having to go through yet another boring and disgusting dinner. Despite the beauty of Sundaril’s palace, they clearly lacked in flavor when it came to what they ate. Beatriz figured it was at least edible, though, and knew she had no other choice to eat it..unless she wanted to die of starvation. The princess clearly didn’t like that second alternative, for it was a slow, painful death, and so she chose to at least keep her mouth shut. Not that her contorted mouth and expressions didn’t clearly make her opinions know. She simply didn’t voice them, and thus was at least semi-respectful of the country that had allowed her and her sister to stay.

In all honesty, she was glad to have an actual room to sleep in. The ship had a room for her, yes, but the loud waves, and movements would always leave her sorely lacking the rest she needed. And, without sleep, Beatriz got rather irritable. Being in Sundaril’s palace also allowed her a bit more freedom to go explore on her own. Elena seemed to think she needed to be watched almost at all times, but now that they docked, her sister had one obligation after another to fulfill. Beatriz was glad she wasn’t stuck with such boring tasks. But, maybe that’s why they gave such responsibilities to her sister…who could be relied on. Beatriz knew she wasn’t exactly the most responsible person, but at least she seemed happier than her sister. AT times, she felt sorry for Elena, but if the first princess of Espanian insisted she was happy, who was she to convince her otherwise? Both sisters seemed to have their own stubbornness, but it was applied in very different ways.

Obviously look a bit frustrated, Beatriz knew it was probably about time she get ready. And yet, she had not real desire to go through the dresses or the incompetent maids. The thought of excusing herself, claiming indisposition. Dare she make the same excuse again? Perhaps it wasn’t best. If she was “sick” again, then doctors would be sent for, and she might be forced to swallow some bitter mixture and be forced to lay in bed all day. That wasn’t what she wanted. So, she knew she had to suffer through the hour with bland food in order to keep a bit of her freedom. Beatriz hated making decisions like this, when it seemed there was always a bad side to each choice. The knock on her door, forced Beatriz to jerk her head toward the noise. Pausing for a bit, she waited until the second knock before she went to open in. the maids seemed prepared to help her dress. Of course. Cause a girl like her couldn’t dress herself. Well…Beatriz knew that she couldn’t tie her own corset. But, she would if she could.

Rolling her eyes a bit, she opened the door further to let them in, and the maids went straight to work. Beatriz let one particular maid adjust the ties, but gave a yelp when pulled a bit to hard. “Ouch! You’re going to suffocate me like that!” she yelled, not even bothering to let the maid apologize, she pointed to next nearest one. “You…tie my corset.” she ordered in Sundrli, hoping that she would not pull so hard. She didn’t, but rather, just tight enough to where Beatriz could actually breathe. When that was done, she went to quickly dressing in a deep purple dress with golden linings. At least these maids seemed to know what they were doing for the most part (this time) and it wasn’t long before she was ready to go. There was still some time, though, and Beatriz didn’t like the thought of waiting in her room for another half hour. Dismissing the maids, she went on her way out, and walked down the corridors. She was still quite unfamiliar with all the twists and turns, with all the rooms. But, she was actually quite pleased when she saw a room filled with beautiful flowers. Inside, though? This was something new, but Beatriz recalled she had heard something of the like. It was called…a greenhouse. Beatriz did like plants, for the most part. Nature? Perhaps not so much . The sun easily ruins skin, there’s the extreme cold, extreme heat, rain, thunder, lightning…all of which were unpleasant.

Knowing she did indeed have time to spare, she walked in deciding to explore, only regretting it slightly upon seeing her sister seated there on a marble bench. She was the last person Beatriz expected to see, but it seemed that she was in need of a break. Elena was rubbing her head, looking a bit in pain, but all that was really self inflicted. Beatriz knew her sister didn’t have to take on all these responsibilities at once. But, Elena was going to do what she felt was right. So was she. It was odd really, how different the two had become. Walking quietly, her shoes made soft clacks against the floor, so she knew her sister would probably look up to see who was approaching.

“Elena…” Beatriz answered, rather coldly, but in her familiar Espanian language. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you had to write letters…have you finished them already?” Perhaps it was a bit inconsiderate to ask such a thing, especially considering her sister's obvious condition, tbut Beatriz ignored that. No amount of time could ever bring them together. They were only sisters because of blood…not because they wanted to be. “I can see why you came here, though…it’s beautiful.” That it was indeed. Beatriz couldn’t deny it, even if she wanted to.

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

On hearing the sudden noise, Elena’s russet eyes flickered upwards and she quickly rose, her impeccable posture only relaxing when she realised it was her sister. Annoyingly Beatriz looked rather resplendent and rather more put together than her flustered sibling, whose head continued to pound. It was a cruel reminder that she really ought to dress for dinner and had little time now to do so. Elena wryly reflected that she really should have guessed it was Beatriz approaching, for she could now identify that light tapping of her shoes in her sleep, it had been close to her for that many months. “Hello Beatriz.” She responded with a small nod, reseating herself as she did so. “My prayers appear to have helped. You are feeling better.” Any illness that Beatriz should suffer under seemed to happen at either the most, or least, convenient moments for everyone concerned. But then anything that kept her relatively confined was fine by Elena and seeing her up and about, exploring the palace made the Duquesa feel a slight stab of dread. This was it then. Beatriz let loose on Sundaril, potentially with the fate of beloved Espania in her dainty, wasteful hands.

Although her sister could sometimes offer a comforting, frivolous distraction, any notion of temporarily forgetting the letters was ruined when Beatriz piped up about them. Typical. “Yes, yes they’re quite finished.” Elena half-lied, trying not to bristle at the implication that she might not have done all that was expected of her. With a little pause she added “Except the one for my husband.” by way of apology to God. “Francisco can cope just as well without my constant correspondence.” Or any correspondence for that matter, years of marriage had taught her that. “And don’t you forget to write to Felipe before he is driven mad with worry. I won’t remind you more than twice.” Even if the conversation was barely more than cordial, Elena was grateful to be able to speak in her own tongue without worry of causing suspicion or offence to anyone around her. Even so, she was surprised how easily she found it to switch between languages. Perhaps in a different life she’d have made a fine translator.

Beatriz had commented on the greenhouse, her admiration as evident and reluctant as Elena’s had been. They had something they could agree upon at least, trivial as it was. “They are quite lovely, aren’t they? I think it’ll make the winter here more bearable.” Elena replied, her voice slightly milder as she tilted her head back, examining some gilded roses behind her. “Our other international engagements will certainly find it difficult to match the opulance of this palace.” So much planning had gone into their Sundaril visit that Elena sometimes forgot that they had other stops along the way to Beatrizs’ final destination. They’d be almost a relief after this level of intense diplomacy. And that in perhaps just a years time, she’d be travelling back to Espania, alone. Perhaps never to see her troublesome charge again. It was not an unpleasant thought, but it inspired oddly complex emotions in Elena whenever she thought of it. The main thing of course, was getting her there in the first place.

“Still, I understand that the scenery of Sarrellia is incredibly beautiful.” She added conversationally, gesturing at the empty space next to her so that Beatriz might sit too “Particularly the summers.”

[Infanta Beatriz Mendoza]

Beatriz almost forgot the reason she had told her sister that she could not attend the first official greeting with King Aldrin and Queen Alys. She had been sick, and Elena’s reply brought that back. Yes, she was a bit tired, but really, she had wanted to avoid the boring greetings and cordial questions that would seem to never end. She had wanted to get out, do something rather than be cooped up in the throne room, where her every actions was judged. Alone, she could truly be herself. Under the scrutiny of other royals. The reply of her sister was not entirely unexpected, though. She was always praying, always referring to God as if he controlled everything in life. Beatriz felt she knew better, for nothing was going to get done if she didn’t do it herself. But the Infanta realized she was never going to change her sister’s opinion of religion. It was perhaps the greatest difference between the two. While Elena was the dutiful, religious one, she was the wild, passionate one, a woman driven more or less by her desires. “Yes…I am better now, Elena.” Beatriz replied, the matter-of-factly tone in her voice.

Perhaps Beatriz didn’t exactly realize how much her sister was going through. She never made a real effort to understand, because she felt she would never be able to. Had she known, the subject of letters would have been avoided to perhaps relieve her sister’s mind of all the duties that she was to perform. Elena took the comment with grace, as she usually did, though, claiming they were all done. Beatriz simply nodded, only stopping when she added “except the one for my husband.” Ah..yes, the husband. Indeed, Beatriz had to agree, her husband could deal without a constant correspondence. Honestly, the Infanta didn’t know why Elena continued to remain married to him…or at least continued to remain faithful. Elena would never complain, though, always doing her duty. It was boring for Beatriz, and she just couldn’t possibly understand. But, just as she thought that the subject would be dropped, the first princess of Espania reminded her sister of her own particular duties. Ah, the letter to her brother. Beatriz couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the command.

“And don’t worry. I’ll write to Felipe…soon.” She lied. It would probably still be a bit longer before she’d sit down to actually write. Sometimes, Beatriz knew her aphetic attitude would get on Elena’s nerves. But really, why should she care about writing letters. There was nothing truly exciting to report back. Of course, Beatriz had to admit that she would have preferred her brother to accompany her on the trip. He seemed to understand her a bit more, but Felipe had his own duties to attend to back in Espania. Part o Beatriz was actually a bit homesick thinking of her native country, of the people there…like Rudolfo. A slight smile spread across her face as she thought of him, but then her attention was quickly turned back to her sister who seemed to now be looking at the surrounding plants as Beatriz had brought that up in the conversation.

For many reasons, Beatriz was quite happy to be staying here for the Winter. She was in no hurry to travel to Sarellia, because it literally meant she would be going to her death bed. For now, she had time to enjoy herself. Elena made it hard to have that happen, though, for she seemed to want to keep a close eye on her. But, the palace was big, and Elena was only one person. Beatriz knew she would have a bit more free reign than she did on the ship. She was glad for that as well. “They are lovely indeed,” she replied. “They’ll add color when everything is dying outside in the cold air.” Perhaps it was not the best way to say it, but it was how Beatriz felt. She never did like winter as much. For one, it kept her inside, for two, everything outside looked dead and boring, and lastly, she didn’t particularly care for cold weather.

Beatriz couldn’t help but wince, though, when her sister mentioned Sarellia’s beautiful summers. Was Elena honestly trying to rub in the fact that she was going to be marrying a man so very ancient. She would be Queen, yes, but what did that matter if she was unhappy. She’d rather be a princess than a Queen for him. It was the honest truth, and not feeling the need to answer, Beatriz merely sat down and nodded. "Did not the maids tell you that I was alright?” She asked, referring back to her sister’s first statement. “I told them to inform you…guess they forgot. Typical.” she scoffed as she looked around the greenhouse. ”But I suppose it was just the sea air that got to me…” It was a bit of the truth, and something she had to say in order to perhaps change the subject. She had no desire to talk about her engagement, Sarellia, or anything related to that.

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

Beatriz reaffirmed that she was feeling quite better; with a tone that Elena could only interpret as insolence, before stating that Felipe would receive a letter soon. Soon? Soon was not a specified time or place, soon was unreliably indistinct and so very, very Beatriz. Having eyes rolled at her did not serve to reassure the Duquesa. With the tiniest of sighs, “You had better.” was all that Elena eventually replied, avoiding an argument that would be inappropriate anywhere abroad, let alone a greenhouse. It was so terribly frustrating. They owed Felipe everything, devotion, servitude and least of all their constant attention and correspondence. For all he knew she’d drowned Beatriz en route and had arrived on her own. She’d have arranged a forgery by now, but her sister’s hand was unique and difficult to copy. Much like Beatriz herself in fact.

The mutual appreciation of the flowers between the two was marred slightly by a strangely sullen reply from Beatriz, followed by a smile Elena did not much care for. That was not the smile of homesickness, that was the smile of a poorly kept secret and Elena gritted her teeth to prevent her asking her to share her little indiscretion. Not that she could not guess. Beatrizs’ various dalliances were hidden from the public and largely their court. But her own family, with their constant network of spies and a reliable grapevine could not be so fooled. No they did not know everything; Beatriz was too maddeningly clever and sneaky for that. But they knew enough to want her married before more damage was done. Elena did not want a whore for a sister and could only hope that her prayers would finally deliver Beatriz to a state of penitence.

As the young Princess perched next to her (and what a strange and pretty sight the two must have made, seated side by side in all this finery), Elena’s surreptitious attempt to mention Sarrellia was rebuffed and the subject was seamlessly changed as though it had never existed. Well at least Elena now had a sure-fire way to shut her up if need be. Her sisters’ feelings on her betrothal were not exactly difficult to interpret and it was a source of constant bewilderment to Elena. Marriage was what you made of it and with a little skill and absolute faith in God you could go years without any interference whatsoever from your husband, whomever he might be. She should know. Elena could have attempted to have her union annulled years ago; consummation had been never nearly achieved. But politics, money, duty and intense family pride had made that impossible, No, she was better off married. This was a good arrangement. And at the very back of her mind, while she remained pure and her husband ever-aged she could entertain a private fantasy. A modest, practically unachievable fantasy, of one day as a virgin widow, rejoining the convent she had so loved as a child. There she could live out her years in peace and serenity, without interference from anyone or anything, just guidance from God. Of course it was a fantasy for a reason. Over the years Elena had become so deeply involved in Espanian politics, so embroidered in court life and the reign of her brother that she could never abandon it. In fact she thrived on it. She lived for it. And perhaps most shamefully she was good at it. And she could only pray for forgiveness.

It might have been a wily excuse to get out of discussing their imminent visit to Beatrizs' betrothed, but all the same it was an excuse to take a swipe at the maids. When you did not yet know who your real enemies were, they always provided ample compensation. “Oh, I know.” She replied smoothly. “When I think of all the effort our dear Father put into making sure we were properly schooled in Sundrili, God rest his soul. Only for it to fall on the ears of the deaf and incompetent.” She shook her head. “Incredible.” Perhaps it was slightly unfair, they’d been in Sundaril but a few days and they had a whole new set of demands and routine for the maids to follow. But you could say one thing for Espanian princesses, their standards were high!

“Have you yet met anyone on your wanderings?” Elena asked, one hand rising to automatically adjust her crucifix. Building strong ties was important; you never knew who might be helpful or damaging and in that case two sisters were certainly better than one. Providing that both behaved.

[Infanta Beatriz Mendoza]

Beatriz knew very well that her sister was probably a bit annoyed at the “soon” response. But, what was she to say? The dutiful woman would have nodded and said, “Oh, yes, sister…I shall leave now to do this very task. Thank you for having reminded me…” The dutiful woman would have thought it a priviledge to be given such a task. That was now who Beatriz was. She never did anything unless she wanted to do it, and writing a letter was not on top of such a list. She had her own agenda here in Sundaril that had nothing to do with Elena, Felipe, or even Espania. This very trip was indeed, quite political—Beatriz knew this—but she did not seem to care about it nearly as much as she probably should. Well, the Infanta had never been interested in politics…and besides, wasn’t that usually the job of a man? Well, it seemed Felipe at least trusted Elena enough to do her duty. I was perhaps best he entrusted the eldest Mendoza princess, instead of the youngest though, for the former was far more unreliable in such matter. Beatriz was well aware of this, and had no real intention of changing.

Elena would have loved the opportunity to change her sister’s way, though. Beatriz knew this from the way she talked and acted around her. Of course, the Duqesa knew she had no real power to do such a thing, and her sigh only made that even more obvious. Even her words that followed (“you had better”) did not have nearly as threatening a tone as it probably should have had. Elena seemed a bit distracted, a bit tired…perhaps evidence of her taking on a bit more than she could handle. But, Beatriz knew her sister would not abandon her duty, nor would she even admit to the load being heavy. Elena had pride whether she would acknowledge it or not. Beatriz didn’t bother to point that out, though, or even respond to her words. She would get the letter written when she felt good and ready to write it. Simple as that. Her brother knew her tendencies, and would not be worried if he got no correspondence from her. He probably had other worries on his mind…but not that they weren’t justified. Beatriz understood that things needed to be done in order to properly rule any country.

Politics was tricky business…and while Beatriz’s cunning mind would have loved the challenge, she honestly found it all quite boring. It was perhaps why she would have never made a suitable Queen. And yet, here she was, on a journey to wed a king! It was unbelievable, but Beatriz managed to keep her mouth shut. Despite the fact that her position as queen was far higher than Elena’s status as Duqesa, the marriage never did settle well with the Infanta. In fact, it had infuriated her. Such responsibilities and titles were never meant to be hers…Princess suited her just fine, for anything higher would make her a slave to her country, her king, her people, and Beatriz had no desire to be a slave to anything or anyone. She was her own person, free from such chains. Elena didn’t seem to mind her own chains, though. In fact, she willingly put them on herself, sacrificing her free well, her hopes, her dreams. That was the difference between them: Elena did things for everyone but herself, while Beatriz only looked after herself. Which was why Beatriz was a bit surprised to hear her sister agree.

Beatriz recalled in her younger years when she was being taught Sundrili. The young infanta thought it a waste of time to learn a language other than her own, so Elena obviously caught on faster. If her parents hadn’t insisted on learning it, Beatriz would have been left clueless as to her surroundings, for now she realized that it was indeed quite an assent, learning different languages. But, Elana did have a point…as useful as it was, it did fall on many a number of deaf ears; like the servants. Perhaps they were a bit dumbfounded by their Espanian looks, perhaps their accent, or even their titles. Beatriz wasn’t in the mood to make excuses for them and merely nodded. ‘Yes, it is incredible indeed…incredibly frustrating.”Beatriz took note of her sister adjusting the rosery in her hand. It distracted Beatriz for a few moments, when her sister’s question registered. Had she met anyone in her wanders.

Well, the answer was simple: yes. Her mind wandered to Prince Anrai, and a small smirk spread across her face. The thing was, Beatriz knew it was unwise to go into any fine details. Elena wouldn’t dare reveal her actions to Sundaril, Espania, or Sarellia. But, if the Duqesa did know of what had happened between the two, Beatriz would have been in for a severe lecture that the infata did not want to have to go through. So, she simply nodded. “Actually, yes I have. Prince Anrai, in fact…” Turning to her now she tilted her head. “Quite a charming man.” Beatriz left her comment about Anrai at that, though she had a number of thoughts associated with it. “And, how are the King and Queen? I trust they were not bedridden as I had been.” Beatriz replied, moving to smoothen her dress out a little bit. In all honesty, she was a bit surprised her sister bought into her excuse of being sick. Perhaps she was feigning it, and merely wanted her sister under the watchful eye of servants…away from the King and Queen, which could lead to disastrous results. Honestly, what sort of harm did Elena think she’d inflict? Only God knew.

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

As the two shared in their little alliance against the maids Elena took the opportunity to look from side to side again, making sure no-one could be spotted. The likelihood of a servant hiding behind a shrub who spoke fluent Espanian was unlikely but not impossible, and thought distracted her so much that she almost missed her sister’s reply to her loaded question. Did she say Prince Anrai? He was a member of their extended family that she had not put too much research into, they had naturally exhausted most of their time on the King himself, along with the unfortunate Princess Aoife. She suddenly found herself in agreement with Don Tomas, there WERE too many siblings in the Seraphin family. Three would have been quite adequate and easier to keep in the know about. But that the youngest brother was charming? That was hardly a secret. Leaving a pause that was too long to be approving she replied. “So I hear.” A tiny, joyless smile graced Elena’s lips. “But I suppose that when you fall so much lower in the pecking order, you do need something to compensate with. Why not charm?” And a probable string of women. She found herself wondering why Princes did not spend the hours that they all wiled away in bed being bitter in a church instead? It’d be far more productive. No doubt an Espanian Princess would potentially make quite a little conquest for him, the fiend. No, Elena found the King and Queen a far preferable topic to discuss for the time being. It was far less damaging to a headache too. Anrai's affairs could always be left to a few bribed servants if her suspicions were so arisen.

“King Aldrin and his Queen? Oh, they were as charming and welcoming as can be expected. More in fact. Put up quite a united front too, which I found rather heartening.” Elena approved of Alys more than she had expected. She was the kind of Queen that Beatriz should be, that Claudette should have been, that any lady should aspire to be in fact. It'd been a surreal but pleasurable experience, meeting the two after so much preperation. She counted herself more than lucky that Beatriz had declined attendance or her nerves might have been evident. Speaking of which... “His Majesty even offered to arrange that you are put in a room next to mine, in case you take ill again. Now, wasn’t that sweet of him?” There’d be no midnight escapades with the elder sister next door, wide awake and dutifully saying her prayers.

As far as their blessed little nephew went? Well that was secret, no concern of Beatriz until Elena had successfully done her job. And the signs looked very good. Farengalia and countless others would be cursing her country’s name by the end of the week if she had her way. And she’d return to Espania a heroine. And then? Well, who knew, but anything in court was better than the silent hostility found at 'home' in in Cordona.

(ooc: So sorry it's so short. Was determined to post before I went out!)

[Infanta Beatriz Mendoza]

A tiny joyless smile spread across Elena’s face, and it spoke wonders for Beatriz. Of course her sister had heard rumors about Anrai; rumors that would have made Elena think twice about even being in his presence. But, Beatriz always welcomed such danger, and actually found the rumors to make him even more…interesting. Elena couldn’t afford to let her interests guide her, though. No, she had to be led by duty to her country to her brother, and even to her because apparently Elena was making it her business to assure that the Infanta would behave. Anrai was exactly the type of man that would only bring out scandal…at least, it would if she wasn’t careful to keep such indecent actions behind tightly locked doors. Elena would catch on soon enough, Beatriz realized, and that would probably be the end of the affair…for a while. If there was one thing that the princess possessed, it was a great deal of determination when it came to various matters. And, among the highest on her list, was her independence. No one told her what to do, where to go, or what to say. Beatriz had a mind of her own, and she intended to use it. So, no matter what sort of obstacle Elena procured, she would always find some way to enjoy herself; and at the moment, that was being with Anrai.

For some reason, Elena seemed to have the need to actually express her semi-dislike for the young prince by claiming him to be low on the pecking order. While that was perhaps true, it did irk Beatriz nevertheless. She shifted slightly unfortably in her seat, the disdain obvious on her face. Honestly, her sister claimed to be so devout, and yet she was going to judge someone so harshly when she hadn’t even met him yet? It was the reason why Beatriz preferred not to act so catholic. Perhaps she was a bit hypocritical, but not nearly so much as Elena seemed to be in the Infanta’s eyes. Perhaps she didn’t give the Duquesa enough credit, and perhaps she was letting her emotions lead her to bias, but that was how it was. Letting out a sigh, she simply shook her head. “Well, charm is a good thing to have, no matter where you stand in the line of succession…” Beatriz defended, replying in a matter-of-factly tone. It was true. Such a trait was a valuable thing, especially in a court environment. It was perhaps a little unfair to claim Elena had no charm at all…she did. It was not nearly as captivating as other women, though, and Elena seemed to be a bit more content with her life now. How would anyone be happy with the life hers sister lead, though? It was boring, mundane, and utterly fruitless in the end. “Anyone should be lucky to possess such a trait.” was Beatriz final words before processing her comment about the King and Queen.

In all honesty, the Infanta had only asked because she could think of nothing else to really say. It would help to fill that silent void that would have surfaced if they were not brought up. But, leave it to Elena to find interest in something Beatriz found mundane. So, her sister seemed quite pleased to have met the royal couple…that was good, she supposed. Beatriz figured her sister would go on, talking about little details of their meeting. And, she did, but the Infata was immediately put off when her sister mentioned something most unpleasant. Elena had apparently requested their rooms be together. It infuriated Beatriz to think that Elena thought she could manipulate her like that. She was twenty years old, for Christ’s sake! And, whether the Duquesa believed it or now, she was quite capable of being on her own. It was apparent that Elena didn’t trust her though. What was Beatriz to do, though? Fly into a rage? No, that wasn’t necessary for it would only prove fruitless. Elena was going to have her way no matter what, and narrowing her eyes, she held in her obvious frustration by clenching her dress ever so tightly in her delicate fists. The nerve! Her head, automatically shot to face her sister in a most forceful manner. “HOW—“ Beatriz was on the verge of yelling but quickly stopped herself.

It wasn’t easy, keeping her voice down, but the Infanta knew they were not exactly alone even now. Anyone could overhear the conversation, but of course, the likelihood of them understanding it was even less probably, considering they were speaking Espanian. “You honestly think that you can lock me up in a room and treat me like a prisoner? Is it not already enough that I have to BE here?” Her voice was low, cold, but quite direct. Her eyes firm and had such a force behind them that it might have surprised she was not screaming. Oh, but she was on the inside. Clenching her fists even tighter, she stood up, proud and erect. “This is ludicrous!” she then yelled her hands expressively waving in the air. Oh, she was angry, but she could nothing about it. That’s what ended up frustrating her even more. So much pent up frustration, and she had to let it out in some way.

Beatriz knew she should have expected this. Was it so unexpected that two sisters be placed in adjoining rooms? No, but the nerve of her sister to make it a point to have it happen was what irritated her. “I’m no bird to be kept in a cage!” Once she said that, she let out a loud breath of exhaustion, staring down at her sister with disdain. Her face was reddened from her anger that seeped into her every vein.

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

Elena was hardly surprised to see Beatriz leap to the defence of their wayward cousin and she suspected it would not have even mattered if she truly liked him or not. It seemed by now customary for the Infanta to choose the opposing view to her sisters’ and seize upon it passionately, mostly, Elena thought, due to spite and ignorance. Well, she would not be so baited; such debates were more often than not an exercise in futility. “I won’t discuss the matter further. I’m sure I will have many opportunities to get to know the Seraphins in a proper environment. Both of us will.” 'Proper' being the key word. As she sat, barely moving a muscle that would upset her careful posture, Elena found herself wondering, for the thousandth time how on earth the beautiful, fiery young woman opposite her could possibly be her sister. It was inconceivable.

Elena waited for a reaction to her casually delivered statement regarding the King and Queen’s audience with her, taking some small pleasure in the silence that greeted them. But then, just as a lovely butterfly captured Elena’s attention, all of a sudden, and quite inappropriately, Beatriz begin a tirade that the Duquesa would have expected only from Carlos or anyone else in that age bracket. Bought on by her comments about Anrai, her attempted restriction of her sisters activities? Either way, it did not matter in the slightest. Her eyes widening slightly, Elena shook her head slowly in disgust. She was not about to lose her temper and her own voice was perfectly controlled, albeit with a slight tremor of momentary fury as she answered Beatriz. “Don’t you dare raise your voice to me! Will you kindly remember who and where you are? Screeching like a scullery maid does not cast the best light upon us, sister.”

She thought that would be enough, that perhaps from there they might continue a civil conversation, or at least a façade of a civil conversation for another ten minutes or so. But alas, her younger sister had never quite learned when enough was enough and continued to the point that Elena could not help but briefly raise an appealing gaze to the heavens before snapping back, her volume low, but her tone ice cold.

“No. A bird would be far less trouble and speak a lot more sense.” She retorted. “Do you imagine that I do these things to make you unhappy? You flatter yourself. I have neither the time, nor the patience for personal grudges, Beatriz. And do you think it’d be a wise or prudent to refuse a suggestion from the King whilst you are feigning illness and I am attempting to unite two of the greatest powers in Europa? And if you would, for a moment consider anyone except yourself, than perhaps you would think of withholding your sinful little escapades until you are quite certain that they won’t be a danger to anyone or anything!” Her piece thus said, Elena reached again for her rosary beads and let out the biggest sigh that she had expressed outside the confessional in ten years. She did so hate public displays of emotion, however trivial.

“Oh, do sit down for goodness sake.” Oh, it was true that her sister might have had that sought after ‘charm’, but at that moment she was utterly devoid of elegance and aside from being annoying it was quite distasteful to watch. Until that moment Elena’s hands had not even left her lap, though her temples throbbed more than ever. She was going to have to go to her rooms before a full migraine hit her soon and she’d be quite incapacitated, but surely that would have been an admission of defeat. She thought then, as she’d thought many times before that the day that Beatriz caused a smile rather than a headache would in all probability never happen. Well then, let Sarrellia keep her... but for now Elena would not storm out, not curse, raise her voice or even write furious letters. She would pray more than ever for Beatriz and continue to watch her, talk to her, constantly be in contact with her. It was a cruel burden God had given her, but it was Elena’s burden to bear all the same.

[Infanta Beatriz Mendoza]

Perhaps it was indecent for an Infanta to show such emotion, but Beatriz had never seen the point it bottling it all up. She was well known for her exuberance and frightening tempers as well. Elena on the other hand, managed to always remain cool. And that irritated her. Oh, for the love of God would the woman show any emotion! Surely God was not against a smile here and there, or even a frown. It was what made humans...well, human: emotions. Animals in thier inferiority did not seem to feel anything, going about their life in perfect contentment. Beatriz wasn't going to fool herself into believing her life was perfect. No, it wasn't, but she had no reason to complain (well, except for her blasted engagment that she would much rather not think of now). Overall, she had alll anyone could really ask for, and she intend to milk it for all it was worth: her wealth, her position, even her beauty that perhaps did not quite exactly match her sisters. But yes, there was a difference. Elena didn't want the attention, but Beatriz did, and so evoked a confidence that seemed almost irrisitable to men despite their constant nagging for women to be more...submissive and dependent. Beatriz would hear none of that, and continued to go on being her rash, wild, and indpendent self. Even to the point of having raised her voice.

A roll of the eyes could not be avoided as Beatriz listened to her sister. Yes, Elena could be just as stubborn, but in a rather different way. Oh, but the Infanta knew what was meant by "proper". Why not just go ahead and say it! Elena was no fool to think she was as "pure" as some have suspected. Many more knew better, though, but of couse they knew not the extent of her horrid and "sinful" actions. The image of shock on a number of people if they did truly know amused Beatriz for some reason. But, she'd have to at least be somewhat careful. No need of letting go of all her inhibitions. Not if she inteded to continue to be Infanta. The title of Queen could easily be forgotten and disposed of for all Beatriz cared. She was in no mindset to hunger for power. Narrowing her eyes at the words Elena spoke, Beatrtiz shook her head. "I can speak in whatever manner I please. And I very well know who and where I am! No need for you to remind me..." Beatriz was going at it again, her voice steadily rising and the cynicism dripping from her every word

Taking a step back, Beatriz laughed a bit. "You mean, it wouldn't cast the best light on you, and whatever business you came to sundaril for! If you were so worried about me ruining your plans, why bring me here in the first place?" she retored, depsite the fact she never woudl admit that she was glad Elena had not chosen to drop her off in Sarellia before going to Sundaril. It would have mean an earlier wedding and for now until she could think of another, better, plan, stalling was her best friend. Ugh! Beatriz wanted to wipe that even expression of her sister's face as she practically insulted her! Why not just narrow her eyes, glare, yell, whatever, insteading of insulting in such an offhanded manner. So, she had no sense, right? The very idea that Elena said such a thing! It was she who was not thinking clearly...all this talk of Espania and her duty. Her sister was brainwashed, merely a product of the societal rules, and Beatriz wanted nothing to do with that. She lived to defy them all, but within at least certain outward boundaires. Inwardly she was a bird set free and her ideas, her opinions freely roamed, and more often then not, reached her tonged that wagged freely on many occasions around those she was close to. Putting a rein on it around other diplomates and courtiers was another matter she'd rather not address at the moment. "I see..." Beatriz finally replied her voice a bit softer now, but still sharp and direct.

"So you think I am without sense. How typical of you. Yes, you may be older, but that doesn't make you all the more wiser. And...no, I'm not so dumb to think you do all this to make me happy. You have your precious loyalties that take far greater precedence over you sister." She glared a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Am I right?!" Oh, but Beatriz always managed to think she was right. It was how her mind worked. Arrogance. That's what Elena saw at the root of it all. But, if the Infanta knew any better, it was also arrogance to value reputation to so much a degree that she'd sacrifice her own wants and desires! It was shrewed to put so much vaule on others opinions, and that was how Beatriz managed to justify her own confidence (as opposed to arrogance). Sure, she was no typical woman, but it wasoms something she prided herself in. "Always this emphais on apperances!" Beatriz then yelled raising her arms now. Yes, Beatriz was quite annoyed as it was apparent in her flushed cheeks. Who cared now that someone could overhear their words (even if they were espanian).

The sigh that had emitted from her sister at last proved some outward emotions. It gave Beatriz sone satisfaction, though why that was, she coudln't exactly say. Perhaps it meant she had gotten to her sister, that she had power over her, despite the likely objections Elena would have made. For only a moment, Beatriz paused, studying her sister for a moment when she ordered her to sit down. No. That was the only responce that came to Beatriz's mind. She would not be told what to do! She was and Infanta. Granted, age did make slight difference, but she had her rights and she had no true desire to rest or to sit down. What had possessed her to even approach her sister in the first place. Beatriz was now regrettign that she had not turned around the moment she saw her. But, what was the point in such regrets now. "I'll sit, Elena, when I feel like it..." was her last and final words as she clenched her fists ever so tightly by her sides. At least she had stopped "screeching" as her sister had so very kindly put it.

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

More often than not, Elena found that sometimes the best way to answer Beatriz’s bluntness was with a little of her own. Anything for a quieter life... “I brought you because you are young, beautiful and make our entourage appear more impressive. Having a future Queen with us gives us... something of an edge in our mission. Plus of course it is more convenient, and Felipe was not taken by the idea of sending you to be married unescorted.” Certainly he was justified in this respect.

Emphasis on appearances? Well that was all for Felipe, Espania, and specifically Carlos’ marriage chances. Of course she couldn’t tell Beatriz that, she certainly couldn’t be trusted with information of that magnitude, not until it was all sorted and official. “It pains me that you do not think that my loyalties include you. You are my sister.” Sad but true. Even when her sibling did not have a scrap of honour to defend, Elena would always try anyway, if only for Felipe’s sake. Her steady gaze moved over that lithe, stubborn form regretfully. It really was such a waste, and rarely did they have the opportunities to discuss why. “And I remind you, as always, that it is not too late for your redemption, Beatriz.” She tilted her chin upwards towards the woman, still making no move to stand, and with hands neatly folded still. “What else will you have, when your fair looks fade and your children are grown, friendless in a foreign land? What else but God?” She could, and doubtless would have her fun now. But though Elena wished of course for proper recriminations against her sister, eternal damnation was not one of them. Beatriz had never been stupid enough to utter a blasphemy in public, nor to shirk her Catholic obligations when they were public or imperative. But she was heretic, enough so to add another worry to Elena’s constant list and cause a few minutes extra prayer and restlessness every evening. It all boiled down to one constantly nagging thought, that it really would have been better for everyone concerned if Beatriz had not been born at all. True, she removed some of the blame from Elena for being the female child instead of another heir. But was it worth all this trouble, tiptoeing on eggshells and constant observation? Sometimes, times like now, she thought not.

After all, if the girl, or rather the woman of 20, could not follow a simple command like ‘sit down’ without a fit of stubbornness and a sharp retort, than how on earth would she ever find herself an obedient wife and queen? Women, even princesses of the finest country in the world, had to display a certain amount of humility and subordination if they wished to keep their lives. Elena was an independent woman, practically an ambassador in her own right. But even distaste and distance from her husband did not stop her from giving him the impression that she lived to serve him. The title alone was worth that. So she answered again, shielding the slight curl of disgust of her lip shielded by adjusting a non-existent tendril of hair “Well, when we arrive at your new home and you are a Queen you may say and do exactly as you like until they get sick of you.” She’d wanted to say ‘until they remove your head’ but the thought was a wicked one, that she’d be confessing later. “Until then you are under my charge. Whether you consider me wiser or not’s irrelevant.” Though in Elena’s opinion it was clearly true... more than a decade of marriage and Espanian politics could instil a worldliness and experience that not even excessive bed hopping could achieve.

Finally Elena stood up, faster than she’d intended, which didn’t bode well for her migraine. Still, at least she managed to keep her feet steady. “I’m going to dress for dinner." Few things were more grating or memorable than lateness. "I’ll need to choose something as different as possible, there’s nothing worse than a fool without the foresight to tell us apart, we may as well make it easy.” She smiled coolly. “And by the way, that colour is most becoming on you, Beatriz.” With a gracious little nod, Elena started walk away, her posture belying her pounding skull. She briefly paused to glance over her shoulder, when the Espanian blossoms caught her eye again. “These flowers really are too lovely, aren’t they? I might have a few bouquets fashioned for our rooms, what do you think?”

[Infanta Beatriz Mendoza]

Yes, if Elena’s words were not evidence enough, it further emphasized the Duquesa’s value for appearances. She made their entourage more impressive? The very thought made Beatriz narrow her eyes in defiance. So that was all she was? Merely a decoration used as a pawn in Espania’s striving for power. Ah, but no, it was not the sole motive for having her being dragged along in their travels. It was a way to supervise her on the way to be married. Yes, no one trusted her, no even her own siblings. She was being treated like a child, and had it not been for her upbringing, Beatriz might have proved to her sister how wrong she was! In efforts to curb her growing anger and to cool down her heated cheeks, her teeth were clenched, but not words came from her lip. No, her sister still had more to say obviously on such matters and it was the gruesome duty to endure it. Not that she had to listen though. Beatriz had long given up on the hope of her sister ever understanding her. They were different and would never truly see eye to eye for the Infanta to value the advise or words her sister uttered.

Beatriz slightly rolled her eyes upon hearing Elena claim disappointment. What did Elena expect from her sister being forced into a marriage with a King three times her age! It was…disgusting to think about, honestly, and the image sent a shiver down her spine for a moment. No, Elena’s loyalties did not include her sister. Beatriz would always be seen by the Duquesa as a thorn in the side, a pawn used to push forward the efforts and Ambition of Felipe and Espania. Nothing more, nothing less…and Elena wondered why she acted in such ways. It was indeed much too late for her redemption despite what was said. Yes, they were sisters, but that did not change anything or make Beatriz believe any differently. She observed as Elena sat in her poised position, hands held across that “That is something to worry about when the time coming. Nothing lasts, but I might as well stick to what I know and can see…Not that you would understand, though,” Beatriz interjected quickly before being silenced by more words from her sister. How she wished God had seen fit to provide her with a more understanding sister, but no, it seemed she was to deal with the annoyance, and the Infanta had every intention of triumph. No words would ever cause Beatriz to change her way—or such was her thought.

There was time when Beatriz would have been receptive to the words of her sister. There was a time when she looked up to Elena (albeit secretly), but years changed her, and changed her for the better, the Infanta believed. It was exactly the words of her sister that caused Beatriz to go into the arms of numerous men. She was headed toward her deathbed the moment she married the Sarellian brute, and it was important to enjoy her life while she had her youth, beauty, and while she was childless (something the Infanta hoped would not change even after her marriage). All of that needed to be taken advantage of. Elena was rotting away, simply clinging on to this unseen God who obviously created an imperfect world. Why worship that? Why hope in the unseen? Of course, despite her heretical beliefs, Beatriz was quite careful to keep quiet about it.

There was no room for further responses, though , as there was a finality in the way Elena spoke. Beatriz would not accept that she was under her sister’s charge, she would not accept that she was “property” to be sold and bartered with. Yes indeed, Beatriz would have the power once Queen, but freedom was a much more attractive. Already Beatriz was sick of Sarellia without having stepped foot on there and without having yet taken her vows. Unexpectedly, Elena then stood up and dismissed herself to change for dinner. Yes, they would have to go soon, and the very thought caused Beatriz to inwardly groan. Yes, Elena obvious didn’t want to be mistaken for the more “loose” and “heretical” sister, right? The thought was somewhat entertaining, but she refused to smile, only muttering “Thank you,” under her breath before raising her brow upon hearing her sister mention the flowers. “And yes…perhaps you should.” Following Elena’s lead, Beatriz too began to head for the door giving her sister one last look before exiting. “But I suppose I should leave now. Wouldn’t want to be late, now would I?” Sarcasm was obvious in her voice, but Elena was probably used to that by now.

---

ooc: I think this is complete?

[Duquesa Elena Mendoza]

As she waited for Beatrizs’ closing remarks, which were thankfully quite muted, though hardly refined in tone, Elena noted with slight interest and discomfort how exotic and strange her sister looked amongst these beautifully maintained gardens. That wasn’t to say that Beatriz was not immaculately turned out, they shared unrelentingly high standards and a highly accomplished, albeit different understanding of fashion. But all the same, she looked utterly out of place. She was… too tempestuous for such perfect arrangement. Too expressive just to be part of this glorious scenery. It was unsettling to Elena, were it a portrait she’d have had it covered. But who knew, after a year or so of marriage Beatriz might be malleable enough to sit stoically in any setting and appear perfectly respectable. Frankly, that day really could not come too soon.

Elena’s hands twitched at her sister’s insolent remark that she oughtn’t to be late. That was no joking matter. Embarrass herself? Maybe once. Embarrass Elena? Not if it was at all avoidable. “No.” she replied, sternly. “You most certainly would not. Good day, sister.” She continued, resolute on her journey without looking back again. Her head was swimming; every step seemed to bring further agony. Her confessor had once told her that her migraines were Satan’s attempted interference into a pure, unspoiled mind, and she should bear them, not with comfort but strictly with prayer. So there would be no naps or lying down for the Duquesa, and besides, she might well spoil her hair. It might’ve spent most of its time beneath a hood, but rest assured it was constantly impeccable, almost an asset in promoting Espania’s image. A few minutes knelt with her rosary before she dressed would benefit far more than a nap in the long run, she was sure. And then she would dress, check her ladies, observe what precisely would be served... Even something as simple as what and how much they ate would potentially affect how others saw her. And after her promising start with Aldrin she wanted this first impression to last as long as they might stay. She’d be the face of Espania for both of them, whenever Beatriz slipped or failed, Elena would work twice as hard to cover it.

That was one of the only thoughts that soothed slightly. Her nephew, her brother, their faces when they found out she’d been successful. The celebrations throughout Espania that would be partly for her, in fact all because of her. When she returned home she’d command more respect and status than any Infanta had ever achieved. And she decided then and there that nothing, save a headache or two, would go wrong.

All the same she reflected as she walked, that it really was pleasant to converse in her own language for the first time in a while. Now if only her counterpart had more intelligent things to say…



ooc: terribly short, but it'll do to close it, I hope!