duke of viseu ;

não consentiu a morte tantos anos que de HERÓI tão ditoso se lograsse PORTUGAL, mas os coros soberanos do Céu supremo quis que povoasse. mas para defensão dos Lusitanos deixou, quem o levou quem governasse, e aumentasse a terra mais que dantes, inclita geração, altos Infantes. sua alteza infante antónio de bragança, duque de viseu, governador geral do brasil.

[dukeofviseu]

vzrahmad‌:

“elephant racing!” he called in return, as if his exclamation explained everything. “it is louder than you think.” ahmad watched as the man downed his wine, quickly following suit. the additional liquid only made him that much more certain in his actions, gifting him a confidence that should only be reserved for kings and gods. ( besides, he would tell himself, he was a married man! why should anyone look at him and suspect this was anything more than a normal dance? it was not like they knew of ahmad in his youth, falling in love with anyone who smiled his way. ) he slipped his hand on the man’s shoulder and stepped closer. “and, please, call me ahmad. i am hardly a sir, now that we are to be so well acquainted.” 

antónio's laugh fills the space between him and the man. he can imagine the elephants to be quite loud, indeed, and though entertaining, watching the race sounds quite the terrifying experience as well. "ahmad, yes, of course! well, ahmad, i am antónio," he finally introduces himself, seconds away from engaging in what would most likely be the scandal of the evening, as if a german-ottoman wedding wasn't scandalous enough. tonho places his hand on ahmad's side, a drunken excited smile gracing his features as he clasps their free hands together and begins leading their dance. 

it doesn't take more than five seconds for them to start drawing eyes their direction, and caught up in the fun they are having, antónio doesn't mind the attention.

[dukeofviseu]

weavng‌:

She watched like a cat in the darkness, prowling after prey - a bird or a mouse. Her lips part only to wet petals, her eyes wide with curiosity as they talked off enemies of warfare. She had been privileged enough to not be exposed to the true gory of war, she had been lucky for sure not to feel the weight of a blade between her hands and the pain of a cut dug deep into a throat. And so, she could not truly understand the worth of an enemy or the threat of an ally. Nor could she truly understand the approach he took, as he seemingly invited Gulbadan to warm conversation and soft manners. 

“Whether enemy or ally, my lord, I find interest. After all, you are just a man,” Gulbadan explained, a gentleness offered on her tongue as he pressed her hand gently upon her chest. With softness, the fifth wife of Hindustan moves amongst him - her dress seemingly unfit to her body, her frame desiring the loose comfort of garments she normally wore beneath the blaring sun. Here, it seemed, everything was colder. It was as if Surya was not present, leaving Gulbadan to spread their word on her own. With a shudder, she crosses her arms. “It is strange to travel such a way, never in my life did I think my path would cross with such countries… Hindustan is far off, almost untouchable, do you think? Tell me of Portugal and your family, who should I meet?” 

antónio has no experience with war. the closest he's been to the front of a battle is the helm of a ship, if you could call that a battle. he's a true believer of diplomatic efforts, and his govern in the colony is true proof of that, the amicable relation between portuguese & natives blooming with the passing of days. still, he is aware he's not the norm. he's found many in switzerland to be firm believers of war - enemy, ally, scheme, plan. all those words mean much more to some than they do to him. 

he nods with a smile. he's glad to have learned the begum to be an interested woman despite alliances, much like him. he is, indeed, just a man and her just a woman, as all around them, even if they choose to see it differently. "i can see how that would be, your majesty," his words are gentle and understanding, softness in his features. "if you wish so, i could assist in making you more familiar with some courts." he offers openly. "i trust my sister vitória would love to meet you, your majesty. she is quite the curious woman." of all his siblings, he thinks vitória would be the most openhearted and openminded towards the woman. not that beatriz and sebastião weren't - they were just people with far too much responsibility thrust upon them. "my father, of course, king joão of portugal, would most certainly like to greet the court of hindustan, as well as my brother, the price heir, sebastião." antónio is proud of his family, you can tell from his tone, there is no missing that. "my sister, queen beatriz of spain, i'm afraid, has returned to her home to assist in ruling."

[dukeofviseu]

luciadellarovere‌:

It is rare to see a smile grace the lips of Lucia Della Rovere, and even rarer that it is genuine. There are few who can coax tenderness from her, and even then, it is usually for her own purposes. Alone in her affections were her husband, her children, and the Sforza family. All Italian, all close. 

The outlier was António. 

She had met him at the passing of his mother, and as a woman who had seen more than enough death in her life, recognised something that invoked her most primal of instincts. Maternal urges had been a part of who she was long before she had ever borne Piero a child, and the young prince of Portugal knew exactly what it was to hold her motherly affection. Yes, her fondness for him ran deep. She wondered if he even knew to what depth she would go for him. 

“Oh,  my boy,” she exclaimed. She reached for him, leaning up to press a kiss to both of his cheeks. “I was hoping I would see you here. You do not know how good it is to see a friendly face.” 

softness washes over him, a sudden feeling of obligatory bliss that comes with seeing lucia. it is hard to explain to someone who did not know antónio six years ago. what would he say? well, my mother passed away and i found motherly comfort in an italian woman who wished to invest in my overseas travels. that would seem nonsensical, and also perhaps overly personal. he prefers to leave people to their fertile imagination, wondering how come the second son of portugal, a man who lives in the new world, and the duchess of florence, an often stone faced woman, have found joy in one another. 

"i was, too. it has been far too long. i hope you have received all accounts on the ship, and my stories about the land." antónio speaks freely, happily. "you would love it there, i have no doubt. perhaps a vacation, one day, after the war ends eventually. luca and livia would like that, wouldn't they?"

[dukeofviseu]

sebastiaodebraganca‌:

The sombre topic of their previous conversation is almost completely forgotten. That has always been Sebastião’s way, bouncing from one topic to another at a rapid pace that others could scarcely follow. At Tonho’s confirmation, a wide grin spread across his features, and he clapped his brother on the back. “Then you can be my guide, for I have yet to see it with my own eyes.” he found Castelgrande a little too stifling, a little dull. It was perhaps due to the proximity from the sea. He dearly missed the sense of saltwater, the feeling of freedom. Of everyone, Tonho would understand that. A moment away would surely do the both of them good. 

"gladly, brother!" antónio beams. him and sebastião might not seem similar on first glance, but it doesn't take one much time around the two to realize they both feel greatly for the other. antónio respects his older brother, but more than that, he admires him, in more ways than one.

the bragança brothers roam the wider and narrower streets of bellinzona alike, the charm of the city not failing to show as they glance up and down the buildings as well as the tall walls that surround the town. "it is missing a port for it to be quite lovely, do you not think?" antónio suggests. an entry to the sea would most definitely improve bellinzona. switzerland might be beautiful in its own right, but the lack of salt in the air almost gives antónio a headache. "sea breeze would also be a delight." he is sure sebastião will relate, despite comparatively having spent less time on a ship than him. antónio would give anything to fix that, take sebastião to brasil with him. 

[dukeofviseu]

infantateresa‌:

With a slight nudge to her own horse she was off with him. The cool spring wind ran through her her as it streaked through the air as golden as the spring sun and her laughter traveled with the wind. This was where she truly felt as peace, with the world movie too fast for her to over think everything. There was something freeing about the simplicity of the connection between horse and rider, and it made her feel more comfortable and confident than anything else (and she certainly would need all the confidence in the world if she would tell him how she felt).

Her gaze shifted away from the gate to glance to see where he was. Though he was still a bit ahead of her she was close. She certainly didn’t mind the view of him, he truly was the most attractive man she had ever raced. Perhaps it was distracting and that why she was losing (that should work for an excuse to herself right?) Teresa’s gaze turned back to the gate and she nudged her horse to go faster whispering sweet encouragements to the horse. She had the honor of her childhood title to race for after all.

for years and years antónio was left to his own thoughts. did teresa have someone to share her worries with? her anguish and her nightmares? her dreams, her aspirations, her ambitions? he knew he didn't, not really. no one would come close to her, not even by miles, and it terrified him to think that he had lost his only chance at something real. but bellinzona is his second chance, and if there's something antónio knows is that God doesn't go around giving them out for no reason, so he might as well take it. 

as his mind is divided between thinking of the past and of the present, the stallion picks up speed, most likely used to being part of races, be it amicable or competitive, and antónio feels himself rocking up and down on its back, a smile gracing on his lips from the rush. he's quick to glance back - teresa isn't too far behind him, but she has some catching up to do. a laugh of the most natural kind escapes him. he is pure joy. 

[dukeofviseu]

vzrahmad‌:

“our own festival of spring is my favorite time of year — it is full of such color, i have never seen anything as vibrant! there is singing, dancing, even elephant racing. i am convinced it is the largest party in the world.” and, he did not add, people rarely died at the festival, which was an important improvement to switzerland’s own. at the mention of the dance ( he was always eager for new dances ), ahmad lit up. already, it sounded different from anything that was happening around them. “perhaps it is time to cause a mild scandal then — what is a wedding without one? if you lead, i am only too happy to follow.” 

"elephant racing, sir, did i hear that right?!" the event sounds like something out of a kid's worst nightmare but a cultural scholar such as antónio's best dream. he has no way of picturing the situation, it being so foreign to him, but he's nonetheless excited. perhaps it is the alcohol taking effect in him, but antónio isn't completely against the idea of dancing the fandango with a man, of all people. a man from the opposite side of the war. that would give the courts something to talk about. "i shall then!" tonho downs with what is left of wine in his cup, and leads into the direction of the floor again, adjusting his posture. "i should put my hand on your side, sir, and you must do so on my shoulder, if that seems reasonable to you." however drunken, he would make sure to let the other man know just how scandalous he was talking. two men dancing, close with one another, hand on waist - that would be an unforgettable tale of bellinzona in years to come.

[dukeofviseu]

starter: @luciadellarovere​ location: courtyard, castelgrande ; mid-morning

it's mid-morning - light clouds fill the otherwise bright blue sky of bellinzona, a tranquil feel, perhaps, finally setting into the town. 

( we can do nothing but wonder how long that will last. the previous time there was peaceful sentiment around, that was broken by news of death and horror. )

antónio, particularly, is less restless than usual. his demeanor remains the same, for he is skilled in hiding his anxiety, but he can feel his heart beating more calmly, his stomach settled without much effort. it might have been the ride he just took that put him at ease. the way the wind felt against his skin, puffing his shirt, his feet rocking along with the horse's stirrup. he's serene, jumping off the horse's back in the courtyard of castelgrande. 

his eyes meet lucia della rovere, strolling away from him in a distance and, after a gentle, thankful nod at the stableman, antónio jogs in the woman's direction. 

"duchessa della rovere, per favore, aspetta, signora!" his italian isn't the best in regard to vocabulary and accent, but it is perfectly understandable, specially when it comes to a familiar face such as the grand duchess of florence.

[dukeofviseu]

infantateresa‌:

In many ways, Antonio was a mystery to Teresa. She had known him for nearly her whole life, and yet she had no clue how he feels about her anymore. When they were children he had the same wandering soul as she had as they pretended to be exploring the New World together in the court yard, he believed in her like no other teaching her to hunt and taking her with him on his hunting trips, as children he was her first kiss the product of a childish dare. He had once been her best friend, her confidant, her heart. But when he left he never wrote, he was gone with the wind across the sea and now two years later Teresa didn’t know if the man sitting on the stallion next to her wanted the dreams they used to whisper to one another in secret. 

There was a pit in her stomach from these unanswered questions and if she wasn’t so cowardly she would have asked him but instead she turned to look towards the gate. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him yet no matter how much she wanted too so she decided to do the only thing she could, to run. She’d let the wind in her hair calm her nerves and then she would demand her explanation. And finally have the closure she needed. “Ready.” She said a fond smile resting on her face from the old nickname and her eyes trained like a hawk to the gate. One of the reasons she was so drawn to him was he always pushed her to be her best, they were too competitive for their own good. “Three… Two… One, go.” 

the secrets they whispered when no one watched were theirs, antónio has never doubted that. however, in times of trouble and insecurity, his mind wonders what to make of those words. there was childhood warmth in them, a glimmer that would soon be lost when faced with the terrors of the real world, and despite being so close and trusting, the honest truth about their feelings have never come to surface, not really. the untold emotions still haunt him. 

perhaps a ride would soothe his unresting stance. perhaps, after breaking the ice with a joyful and nostalgia infused competition, antónio and teresa would find common ground to speak of unresolved tension, however frightened he may be about it. he makes a decision to not back away, to admit his share of guilt. that is what an honorable man would do - that's what his father told him to be. "ready!" he exclaims as he moves the reins just enough to get the stallion going, and when approaching the fence, he repeats the movement eagerly, picking up speed. his clothe fly with the wild, his white shirt loose, and the chill of the spring combines with the rays of sunlight to fill antónio with bliss. 

[dukeofviseu]

infantateresa‌:

It was strange how much someone could change over time, yet be so familiar as well. Since she had last seen him he seemed to grow, his hair was shorter than she remembered but his eyes that always seemed to see right into her soul. They were exactly the same as she remembered.

Perhaps she was selfish, but she held onto every memory with him with an iron grip. He may have forgotten her but she would not forget him or their time together. She kept all his old letters, and often found herself rereading them, though those words on paper would never be the same as being with him, they were something. Proof that one day they were together, that he wasn’t just a dream. But he was gone, and she had a duty to fulfill: her marriage. Whenever suitors were mentioned they never seemed right, and when she closed her eyes and imagined who she would be with even after all this time, it was still him. 

And now that he was right here with her she wouldn’t let him slip away again. She couldn’t bare to lose him again without know why. So with a bit extra effort then he needed (curse his damn height) she pulled herself onto the horse. Her gaze glimmered with just as much nostalgia as his while she laughed at the mention of their old childhood bet. “I believe from out last ride I won that title and I certainly don’t plan on losing it any time soon.” He was the only man who managed to keep up with her competitive nature. “You are going to regret challenging me, Nino.” With that she nudged her horse forward. “Race starts at the fence?” She asked back to him. 

Truth is, António never got Teresa. The infanta was close to unforgettable during António's time in the new world, coming up in his thoughts ever so often. It wasn't rare that he found himself with information he would've loved to share with his closest friend - Brasil was filled with exciting things he'd never seen before and the thought of writing to Teresa again hadn't been away from him. It was hard, though. He wasn't sure if he should. And so he let the regret of not contacting her take over, instead of the possible regret of contacting her and it not going the way he wanted it to. Perhaps he was a coward, but he would rather not dwell on it presently. 

António smiles at the memory of their last ride. It was long ago, but an unfading image in his head. Teresa's hair on the wind, just as red and loose as it is today, she truly is in her nature on the back of a horse. "Race starts at the fence, ends by the brick gate. Ready, pequena?" The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, as if it had been but a week since it was last spoken. He fights the urge to apologize - there is no way things are going to come clean with them if he decides to make it weird. He readies himself on the stallion, leading the animal into a better position.

[dukeofviseu]

sebastiaodebraganca‌:

Sebastião had to agree with his brother’s assessment. He had arrived here after the troubles had passed, but it was clear to him that Portugal had gained little by travelling all this way. It was unnatural, he thought, to be so far from the sea, cut off from what he knew and where his heart lay. Perhaps Tonho would feel it too. The brothers were much alike in that regard, even if they did not always agree with everything else. “The reason will become clear soon enough, I daresay,” he declared. “Until then, all we can do is make the most of it. Tell me, have you had time to visit the town? I hear it is quite charming.” He rose to his feet, gesturing for Tonho to follow him. “Why don’t we go now?” 

Being landbound keeps António up at night, more so than usually. It is uncomfortable and unnatural for him to be so far from what he'd call his habitat, and the thought of being unable to know what their fleet is up to drives a shiver down his spine every now and then. There's not much to be done, and with his hands tied, Tonho chooses to fill his day with all sorts of activities. "I do hope so, yes." The not knowing is what kills him. "I have visited briefly, and it is charming," he says, smiling at his brother's proactive stance, following suit as he stands up. "We should. It is quite lovely and I would not mind going again. Castelgrande can get somewhat dull after some time."

[dukeofviseu]

point tracker.

post count this week ( 10/05 to 16/05 ): n. of ic posts ( 6 ) points gained: 6 points ( + 1 bonus point ) = 7 points total points allocation: influence +3 ; wealth +2 ; intelligence +2 health total: 111 / 150

[dukeofviseu]

weavng‌:

She felt bereft of comfort in such Western garments, her colour dulled by blues and greys as she made her way through the marketplace. It pained her, perhaps, to be without her daughters too. But the journey had been long and tiresome, leaving hectic minds to cry themselves to sleep. To be without them may have been a sadness ( but to be so far from her two youngest was far worse ) but it was also a release to walk without little hands tugging on her skirts. It was perhaps, almost foreign, to talk to adults without a baby within her arms. And yet, she returned to the conversation with such nobles as if she were a bird flying for the first time; it was an ease, after all, she had been brought up to take the role as female Raja… before her husband decided the Kingdom of Amber was a jewel to be had.

“Ah, you are on the other side of the war?” Gulbadan asked, her eyes wide as she took him in. Eyes meek, tender - as if she were looking to a sweetheart rather than a complete stranger as a hand raised to fix the fall of her shroud, veiling her raven hair and the shine of her coloured bhindi. “It is a pleasure, António de Bragança, did I pronounce your name right?” She asked, her eyes centred on him rather than ANYTHING else, her father had always taught her to act as if her recipient was the only person in the room. “Sasso Corbaro is very different from the halls of the Fatehpur Sikr… There is less soul in it’s walls.” 

António holds no particular grudge towards any singular country of the Ottoman alliance, truly. His opinions hail from his own experiences, and the single one he's had with a man of Hindustan was rather pleasant - deciding, therefor, that he is interested in learning more of the culture. From what he's gathered of the Grand Vizier, it is a country of great joy and colorful sights, and António's heart jumps with curiosity at the thought of that. "I suppose I am, Your Majesty, technically, yes. Although I can assure you I am no enemy." He kindly bows his head - respect exhaling from his gesture as well as his tone of voice. "I will understand if you choose to cut our interaction short, however."

"You did, do not fret." The accent on his name might have been slightly off, but it is as good as he could expect from anyone, really. He's almost sure he's butchered the lady's name, a mispronounced 'ó' is clearly not a big deal. "I can only imagine, Your Majesty. It differs greatly from the Paço, my home, I can only imagine from yours." António gives a comforting smile. He knows the feeling of being way too many miles away from home, an ocean even, now that he considers Brasil to be home. 

[dukeofviseu]

who are you closest too outside your family?

It has been years since he's been able to consider anyone close to him, family included. Being away in the colony, specially in his position of leadership in São Salvador, prevented lost lasting connections from being made. 

He has to stop for a second and think back to his most prized friendships. 

"Margaret Tudor and Teresa Trastámara, I suppose. They have once been my dearest friends and I have hope that our time in Swiss grounds will rekindle our connection with ease."

He knows he is to blame for both the falling out of contact with Margot and Teresa, but he cannot allow himself to not take the opportunity to regain their trusts.

[dukeofviseu]

infantateresa‌:

Teresa was pretty sure this was a dream. She often dreamed of being back in that golden summer with Anthonio in 1551. She often imagined heaven must be perfect like that summer was. They spent their days on crazy adventures enjoying the Spanish summer. There wasn’t a care in the world, death seemed impossible and there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do. She told him her dreams that she never tells anyone, her dreams to see the far reaches of the world. The colonies her goal one day. She never imagined he’d leave her for them. 

That summer, that last summer, had been different than all the others before it. He came back to Spain even taller, or maybe he had simply grown into his height since they had been apart, but Teresa could no deny he was likely the most handsome man she had seen in all of Spain. And for that summer they were glued to one another, in a constant dance of banter and flirtations. Their last summer of youth was the best of them all. 

So she did her best not to pinch herself and fall into her anger (and fear of being forgotten) that sat heavy in her stomach. But instead focused on getting her horse ready, for now she would enjoy her little dream of that golden summer. She rolled her eyes slightly at his banter, “You better not use the horse for an excuse when you are eating my dust, dom anthonio.” 

As she got her horse ready she couldn’t stop her eyes glancing back over to him. Brazil had made him only handsomer, she was sure of it. And there was one other thing she was sure of, she would have to wake up from this dream and ask the one question that had bugged her since he stopped writing; did he find someone better than her in Brazil? Did he forget her while her heart ached for him?

Every time António returned to Spain for a summer, Teresa was different. Sure, they would see each other from time to time, but the periods that came between that were eventually long, and letters were not enough for the two. Letters were nothing like the sound of Teresa's laughter, the sight of her smile, the smell of her hair. António often found himself daydreaming while reading her letters. 

And then duty called. As he rushed to make his journey half-way across the world to a never before visited land, a chance to make his father proud, António failed as a friend to many people. None hurt as much as disappointing Teresa, and once he came to that realization, he concluded he was too late. The embarrassment he felt for not remaining in correspondence was enormous, but upon finding her, in person, in Switzerland, António does not have an excuse not to take a chance on making things right. 

He scoffs, playfully as he steps on the stirrup and throws his leg to mount the horse. The saddle is comfortable, and Tonho adjusts himself further before clearing his throat. "Are you ready to eat dust, Infanta?" Charming smile appears on his lips before he cracks his neck, competitive as always. "Loser must admit that the winner is the best horse rider in all of Europe." The memory of their childhood bet graces his mind as he proposes it to Teresa, glimmering eyes with nostalgia. 

[dukeofviseu]

you have a soft heart. don't you think it'll be your undoing?

He's had the same question thrown at him multiple times, with only different words. 

Aren't you too kind to be a ruler? Are you sure you have what it takes in you? Aren't you too weak? 

Throughout the years, António has reached the conclusion that he is not the owner of a soft heart, but a good one. "It will not. I am a good man. I have a strong heart and an open-mind, and my mind is what will prevent my undoing if my kindness once fails me." He pauses. "Unlike many, I am not afraid of admitting my own flaws."

[dukeofviseu]

How does Switzerland compare to Portugal?

He has never thought less of a question before answering it. "With all due respect to King Diebold and his beautiful country, it simply does not compare."

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Etty Hillesum, fom a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life: the Diaries, 1941-1943 and Letters from Westerbork