Al servicio de la Corona

[justburdened]

silverxvein​:

Is he making fun of her? Rosalia is so used to derision that she doesn’t expect anything else, and cannot tell when it isn’t present anymore. She tries to conceal that, though, allowing her smile to broaden despite the uncertainty growing in her stomach. She wishes she didn’t care, but that has never been her way. 

“If that’s your idea of fortune, I dread to think what kind of luck you have had,” she chuckles, a small shake of her head dismissing the thought. “Yes, Portugal. I believe that makes us neighbours of sorts.” 

She had been careful before she came. A faux-pas was not an option, especially not around foreign rulers. She would do nothing to shame her country, no matter how many waited for her to do just that. She had seen to it that she knew exactly who would be in Greece, and how to recognise them - King Hector included. 

“It is very different,” she agrees. “Though I am not sure what I expected. For so long, we have known so little.” Her gaze returns to him, even as he surveys the festival before him. “The festival is more familiar. i recall my uncles bringing home tales of Chuseok from their travels when I was a girl. I never dreamed I would see anything of the like in Greece.” 

"I can't always say I've had much luck, my Lady,"  Héctor responds, mirroring  her chuckle with one of his own.  His gaze slides back to her; both amused and cautious.  "But I'm still grateful for the understanding all the same."

It does cross his mind that she may be alluding to Spain's financial woes with her comment, but Héctor quickly dismisses the possibility.  Beyond the exorbitant amount of time and resources he's spent downplaying the crown's debt, it would seem out of sorts for the woman before him.  Besides, Spain and Portugal may not be friendly neighbors (just yet, in any case) but there's hardly that kind of animosity between them.  His courteous smile returns.  He's not dissuaded.  The intent is still to form an alliance.

"It sounds like your uncles made it farther East than I ever did.   There's nothing familiar here to me."  He studies her once again, before he shrugs.  "Perhaps, if the Lady has time, she could enlighten me on the festival?"

[tianhou]

          good things never last ,   bitter laments .   she wouldn’t have strayed from the  festivities  had she known  this  was the consequence .   however ,   truth be told ,   rúyì is more surprised it took this long to receive unwonted attention    ━━━━    the layers of silk     &     golden hairpieces created illusions of their own .   a false peace .   she almost forgets she’s just a  lowly courtesan .

                                          reality never fails to disappoint .

          covetous hands are rough ‘gainst her wrists ,   wolf - like laughter pierced her ears .   their smiles smug ,   clothed in  nice enough  garments    (   typical  bon vivants ,   blue - bloods she’s better off  not  offending   ) .       ‘   someone is expecting me .   ’       a lie ,   but rigid posture     &     pointed chin doesn’t betray a lie .       ‘   please let go .   ’       /       closed for  @justburdened​ .

[justburdened]

It's only happenstance that Héctor catches sight of the men following her out of the festival.  He's not one to often pry into other people's business, but he knows all to well the sight of an ambush.  That's why he's compelled to follow.   It seems it's the right decision.  Rough hands are already on China silk by the time he turns the corner.

"Excuse me."

For once, the rough edges of his accent are only in his favor.  That, and the well honed ability to calmly menace.  The gentleman may not know who he is, but they certainly will be able to pick up on the authority Héctor wields.  

"I believe the Lady asked you to stop."

[silverxvein]

@justburdened​

Agnes had never met the King of Spain, but she had heard of him. She had hated him. 

Sending spies to Spain was nothing personal. Not for her, anyway. She had people in foreign courts all over Europe. All right, she was paying closer attention to the news from Spain than elsewhere. She would have been a fool not to. There was too much enmity there. No, keeping tabs on Spain hadn’t been her mistake - but picking idiots for the job had. They had been caught, but what King  Héctor knew of her, of their employer and instructor, remained to be seen. If nothing else, it was the chance to dig under his skin, to do what her people could not. 

“I understand you were quite the soldier, Your Highness? What did you make of the fighting exhibitions?” Her words were neutral, honeyed even. It would not do to cut off conversation before she had begun to fully gain anything from speaking to the man. 

[justburdened]

French.

How many years had it been since Héctor had actively been on the battlefield?  Yet still, the -French accent sends a ripple of apprehension up his spine.  After all, the last time he had heard that rolling cadence, he had taken a knife to the knee.  A taste of it again causes his jaw to clench.  If he were a younger man, he may have scowled.  Somehow though, he manages to keep his unwanted visceral reaction mostly off his face, reminding himself he's the King of Spain, not a solider in the trench.  The tense moment passes, and he manages to muster a courteous look, all for the sake of diplomacy.

"Ah.  I'm afraid I didn't catch much of the exhibitions," he says, thoughtful but stalling -- racking his brain for why she seems just a little familiar to him.  "I find they don't really hold my interest."

Héctor decides he doesn't recognize this...noblewoman(?), after all, thought that does nothing to quell his curiosity (and suspicion) in her choice of conversation topic.    It's only because of that he's compelled to engage her further:

"Are they of interest to the Lady?"

[gcnteelvice]

*  // ♦︎  chuseok festival, night 1 — › @justburdened​

PERHAPS IT’S NOT THE BEST OR MOST HONEST way to handle things, but Isabela was not particularly keen on fighting over something she knew she had no right to be angry about. So instead, she dismisses their attendants (after they help her bathe, dotting her throat and décolletage with the scent of roses) and pours two healthy measures of wine in crystalline goblets. When the door to their quarters finally opens, signaling the arrival of her husband, Isabela quickly shrugs off a single strap of her chemise, and approaches him with an inviting smile. “It was getting so late, I wasn’t sure you’d return tonight,” she says, offering him a glass. The words sting a little, but she quickly recovers. “You must be tired. Sit and I’ll help you with your clothes.”

[justburdened]

THERE ARE MANY TYPES OF WARFARE IN THE WORLD, but there is only one in which Héctor regularly finds defeat.  Years of studies, decades in the battlefield, and no ones' ever taught him how to strike when the armor's made of silk and lace, or how to disarm a smile specifically crafted just for him.  His teeth clench together for how easily he's been caught; for how much he likes her hair down; how quickly his quiet frustrations curb in the presence of her charm -- his arguments slipping away like that one damn strap has slipped her shoulder.  (An accident, he's sure.)  She may catch just a twitch of a frown before he manages to temper his expression into something more palatable; a polite smile and a tepid nod.  

"Diplomacy takes time," is all he says, aloof on purpose, although he surrenders the high ground and obeys her command, sitting on the edge of bed without complaint.  (He ignores the wine for now.)  He'll pull at his own boots, though his eyes can never quite leave her form.

When has she learned so thoroughly how to appeal to him?  The quiet huff that follows is his attempt at maintaining some form of dignity.

"You didn't have to wait up, you know."

[justburdened]

reclaimedynasty​:

mars had been speaking to the spanish consort, small talk of course. mars was still not good at speaking quite yet. he turned when the other spoke, a small laugh coming from his lips. he nodded. “i understand,” he commented, turning back to the jewels. “i feel as though i am in my own head most days than not.”

"I imagine hosting the world would leave you much to think about."  

While the prior small talk had failed to keep Héctor's attentions from wandering, the subject of Greece is of far more interest .  It’s no small feat to unite the world, especially after being so isolated from it, and Héctor has to wonder about the method and the motivation of it all.  Frankly, he has many questions on the matter, but decorum and location still him from asking.  Against curiosity, he merely settles on a mild observation.

"It's an ambitious undertaking, to say the least."

[justburdened]

silverxvein​:

Rosalia was used to being looked at. All of her life, she had grown used to unkind eyes, to the point that she now expected them. However, rarely did those eyes belong to Portugal’s neighboring ruler, and even rarer did the stares come with an apology. He can’t hide her initial shock at his words, but it soon wore off into a soft smile. “I know the feeling,” she confessed, a small laugh and a shake of her head following. “I’m not sure there’s anything to apologize for, though. These things do happen to the best of us.” 

Her demure answer elicits a mild smile in return; the tiniest uptick of lip on an otherwise serious face.  Héctor hadn't expected such a soft spoken reply, though perhaps that's simply because he's grown use to always seeing fire in dark eyes.  

"Perhaps.  Or perhaps I'm fortunate to run across such an understanding Lady."  He gives her the smallest tilt of his head out of respect.  "From Portugal, no?"

He recognizes her, though circumstances had given them few occasions to meet, even within their close proximity.  He has heard a great deal about her though; the darkhorse that she was to be Portugal's Queen.   Héctor  considers her a moment longer, before his gaze moves his gaze back out to the festival.

"This is very different from Portugal, isn't it?"

[justburdened]

[OPEN]

It's not often Héctor is caught staring, but with his mind on whatever had set Isabel off that morning, he hadn't realized his gaze had fixed on the person unlucky enough to be standing besides him.  He quickly glances back to the festival booth before them-- one of jewelry gathered undoubtedly all up and down the silk road -- before he sighs.  It's probably best to address his faux pas head on.

"Ah.  Excuse my rudeness," he says.  "I seem to be lost in my own head today."

[justburdened]

delicateburden​:

A PART OF ISABELA HOPED she could somehow glean how the Italian Queen had successfully held her place over so many years; she supposed the obvious answer would be found in the children – yet another realm in which the Spanish Queen was lacking. The weight of her title felt especially heavy, dragging her gaze down. 

“If nothing else, perhaps it offers multiple possibilities to pursue. I intend to speak with the Queen of course.” Just as he would speak with the Italian King, though she doubted she had to say it aloud. Instead she muses out loud, face lifting and mood brightening. “We might not be able to offer them matches for the Italian princes and princesses, but surely we can find something in common over wine.”

WINE ISN'T EXACTLY HIS PREFERRED NEGOTIATION TACTIC.  Héctor's lips downturn in disapproval, but he does not chide her.  They've both done distasteful things to get and keep the Spanish crown; a little friendly drinking is hardly the worst of it.  

"I suppose so," he agrees, dryly of course, and with a shake of his head.  Something in his demeanor has softened though with the drop of her gaze.

Instinctually, his hand comes to cover hers.  As with many of their discussions of late, even the most innocuous of comments seems to hold an echo of their struggles at home. There were easier ways to gain allies, after all, and their current lack of resources was not something that went unnoticed by their noble rivals, often to the Queen's stress.  He tries to distract her from it, when he can.  

"I'm sure it won't take much wine for you to charm any of them," he says off-handedly.  "If you can keep your temper."

[justburdened]

delicateburden​:

HE NEVER QUITE INDULGES HER FRIVOLITY, and yet it doesn’t irritate her as much as it once did; not when he sees through the froth and gossamer to understand the thoughts beneath. She thinks he just might respect her (and if that warms her, then her face doesn’t show it.) Isabela’s smile doesn’t dim. 

“ It will, ” she says, more confidently than she feels. Her voice is hushed when she continues, strategy always hidden like silk covered steel. “ Have you seen the Italians? They brought so many with them. ”

IT IS ONLY LA REINA DE ESPAÑA WHO CAN ELICIT SUCH A HIGH ARCH OF HIS BROW.  Héctor can never quite shake the exasperation from his humor, but his responding eye roll and huff could be accused of being playful.

"Yes, but I haven't decided yet if that's convenient or not."

Undoubtedly, the Italian Queen mother has her heart set on matchmaking while in Greece, but that is an arena  in which Spain has little to leverage in.  (Unless she'd like to take a few scheming cousins off their hands, and in that case, by all means...)  In any case, Héctor isn’t certain of his wife’s apparent interest in the matter.  He tilts his head.

"Have you been speaking with them?"

[xlookingforalaska]

@justburdened​ // it was hard for the princess to not be hard. growing up with six brothers, and endlessly being teased as she grew. she would never want it to be any different. she thought maybe the ball could be good practice for her.

she spotted a fellow royal while she roamed athens for the tailor shop, her ladies n tow as they carried her dress. “getting ready for the ball?” she asked.

[justburdened]

The old desire to kill a budding conversation with a harsh 'no' dies in Héctor's throat as he  thankfully gets a look at the speaker before he responds.  He knows a royal entourage when he sees one, and it will do nothing for Spain's ambitions (or his wife's temper) to dismiss what could be a new ally over  his own awkwardness.  He doesn't smile at her, (god, he doesn't want to scare the poor girl,) but instead offers a simple, casual nod in acknowledgement.

"Not today, my Lady.  I wouldn't without my wife," he says, trying to place the colors of her crest.  It may be easier to identify the lithe of her accent instead, as something familiar lurks beneath her words.  

"As it turns out, I don't have an eye for fashion."

[justburdened]

delicateburden​:

HER CHIN RAISES NOT ONLY IN ARROGANCE, but in necessity. Her husband was unreasonably tall and her slippers didn’t afford her much more height. Héctor is terse as usual, clinical in his judgement. He’s not wrong, just unimaginative. Pity when she knew he could be otherwise.

“ I’ve already posed for one artist here, and if my beauty can be captured then I assume the view can be too. ” The angle of his brows only widens her smile, like a satisfied cat. So broody, her husband. “ We’re the first in decades to see this – and it is convenient that so many others are visiting. ”

HIS HUM IS LOW AND FAMILIAR -- Héctor's usual response to his wife's vanity.  It's not like he can actually refute her, she is stunning, but his more austere upbringing has not yet allowed him to accept how freely she likes to reminds him of it.  His lips purse, but despite himself, he betrays a twitch of amusement.

"You are right, as per usual," he grants her, stooping just a little more so she doesn't feel so small.  "This is an unprecedented opportunity."

He's caught the meaning her innocuous comment, just as surely as she'll catch the meaning in his pointed glance.  

"I just hope it yields more than a few new portraits for our hall."

[gcnteelvice]

SILK TRAILS BEHIND HER MEASURED STEPS, and though her gown fits perfectly, Isabela fidgets with the end of her sleeve; it’s warmer than she’d expected and necessity is steadily winning her mental debate against propriety. Dark eyes alight on an alcove opening into a stone balcony – compromise! The queen steps into sunlight, a fresh breeze cooling her skin and her gaze settles on the figure stood by the corner Doric column. Asesinato, she thinks (like her mother told her,) lips pulling upwards only once she’s close. “ What do you see? ” Isabela asks, turning to face the city below. “ It’s certainly a view they’ll record in the history books. ” 

But she thinks she much prefers her home. 

[justburdened]

IT'S OFTEN THE QUEEN'S PREROGATIVE TO INVADE HÉCTOR'S QUIETER MOMENTS, but he hardly notices it much anymore.  Instead, he merely blinks at his wife's sudden appearance from beyond the stone walls.  Even in pink silk, she looks warm.  Ah.  Maybe they had had the same idea?  Spain can have its summer heat, especially in the South, but the climate of Greece has so far been another thing entirely.  Héctor's fingers twitch, and he also could have been caught fidgeting, if his eyes hadn't come to meet Isabel's judging gaze.

Her lips pull, and he frowns in return.  His feet still carry him though to meet her at the balcony.  "I just see a city."  He says, as he shrugs, forearms coming to rest on the rail.  He doesn't find it a particularly notable city, save the novelty of the occasion.  His gaze slides to her face in profile.

"I suppose the day may be recorded...but the view?"

[justburdened]

Intro

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN, 44, HE/HIM, CISMALE.  HÉCTOR RODRIGO FERNÁNDEZ DE CÓRDOBA has just arrived in greece. they’re a KING JURE UXORIS from SPAIN. their eyes seem to tell us a million things but THE LINES AT HIS BROW, THE UNFAMILIAR FIT OF FORMAL DRESS, HIS RIGID POSTURE, AND THE SCARS OF WAR AND WORK ON HIS HANDS are seen from the surface. he hopes to gain PRESTIGE FOR SPAIN (AND MAYBE A LITTLE RESPECT FROM HIS WIFE) while here in greece. Hey, it's JJ.  Now is the time to probably mention I have a lot of feelings about feudal Spain, but also, it's far too late for me to be sorry, so... 

⚜ Politics and intrigue have always been the interest of the ruling seat of Southern Spain, (for better or for worse,) but in the Northern providences where Héctor was born, life is a bit more simple. Situated as basically the border guard to Spain's neighbors,  the two main goals of the noble houses are to 1.) have many children, and 2.) teach those children how to fight. ⚜ As being such, Héctor is the oldest of 6 (4 surviving) and has held a sword long before he could even read.  ⚜ There's no dispute he's a talented military commander, but it's never quite set right with his family how their eldest son seems to posses none of the fire of their Spanish blood; missing both the passion of his sisters and the inherent charms of his brother.  Calm.  Strategic.  Tepid and Quiet.  They could almost accept their son in consideration of his battle prowess, but his sullen demeanor is often hard to overlook, and his complete lack of ambition in furthering their house is the ultimate deal breaker. ⚜ There's been whispers for years on how to usurp him as heir of the house in favor of a much more suitable younger brother, but nothing has ever come to fruition.  That is, until a solution presents itself in the most unlikely of places -- civil unrest with the current ruling house of Trastámara, and a suddenly available princess.  Héctor is quickly offered up as a suitor, as long as he swears to abdicate his titles and claims in the providence.  The marriage is just in time.  His father dies literally weeks later, and his brother takes reign of the family. ⚜  One would think the House de Córdoba would have wanted to put their favored son on the throne, but frankly Isabela is the last jewel in a tarnished crown, and there's a certain sense of legitimacy Héctor can offer in being his stoic, graying, world-weary self. (His military record doesn't hurt either).  If anything, the House de Córdoba is playing the long game, making moves in confidence that the throne will fall under their house in a generation or two, if they only show a little of the patience their son is known for. ⚜  If only they could have anticipated Héctor would finally find his passion...and she has a far different ambition for Spain.  There may come a day when the family will come to rue their choices.

[strawberryjayne-deactivated2021]