Living at one of the most splendid, if not the most splendid of courts in the known, civilized world, there was quite alot to be said about a good, wholesome upbringing. One of the most significant things being that it was something to be truly grateful for. To talk properly, to move properly, to eat properly... In short, to do everything one did, properly.

As a child and a teenager, this wasn't something Octavien had reflected on very much, busy as he'd been playing and enjoying life to the fullest back then. Even the days before dashing off to join the court at the Palace of Light and Air to learn a thing or two about life, had seen him carefree and unconcerned by what was expected of him once he arrived. Regardless of the things that had landed him in trouble and caused him to be sent off in the first place, there were very few that had found a reason to complain about his actual manners. He had always carried himself well and had an amiable way about him, one that people could not help but to find endearing. But to Octavien, it had never been anything but the way one simply acted. His upbringing had molded him into a well-behaved youth, who saw no reason to act otherwise. If there were darker thoughts stirring in one's mind, one simply hid them and pretended they didn't exist, until one could find a suitable outlet for them. It was simply the way things were, and he had never found a reason to be either thankful or disgruntled because of it.

However, now he did. Now, he realized he was indeed very lucky to have been born wealthy, especially considering he hadn't been born a noble. Because despite the lack of blue blood in his veins, he had been raised with every luxery usually reserved for and enjoyed by nobility only, recieving ample tutoring in reading, writing, conversating, fencing, riding, archery, literature, history, and everything else a young man from a prominent family might benefit from knowing. He had even been taught a number of foreign languages, such as Latin, German, Russian, English, some Italian, some Portuguese and, of course, Spanish. For indeed, one could never know what prominent foreigners he might encounter at parties or during his travels. Why, it might even come to pass that he ended up a diplomat, and just think how handy it would be then, that he already spoke the language of every nation that was even remotely worth dealing with.

Now, while during the few months in court, he had not yet come to actually need all his linguistic knowledge, he was still thankful for it nonetheless. Especially now, when faced with his future Spanish bride, as it allowed him to show a good measure of good will and respect, by greeting her in her own native tongue. After all, although he wasn't particularly interested in actually marrying her, the arrangement was really no fault of hers - or so he thought - and there would be no honor in making things difficult for her. They had to be quite difficult enough already, considering she was a stranger to their country and their customs, and any gentleman would see it as his duty to make her feel welcome.

Though try hard as he may, he remained ultimately unable to fully shake that thin veil of reservation he could feel cloaking his eyes, and suspected Her Excellency had little trouble picking up on it. But then again, it was to be expected that they both felt somewhat constrained, wasn't it? They were perfect strangers, who in a mere few days would be man and wife. Of course their first meeting would be slightly awkward, if not completely so.

Thank goodness he had begun to shed that fateful self-consciousness that had laced his actions since first becoming Prince, and reached it's peak when it became clear to him that the woman he loved would be leaving court indefinitely. Since then, the old Octavien, with his amiable confidence, had started slowly returning. Granted, there was still a bit of a distance to go until the full extent of his previous self-consciousness had been completely discarded, but he WAS getting there, slowly but surely. Although, despite his old self easing it's way back into his character, there was still one part of him that seemed it would be forever lost; his ability to trust in others. That part of him remained a huge void, and one that didn't seem like it would be filled or closing any time soon. Thus, the only ones currently able to enjoy the now rare luxery of his trust, were César and Joséphine, and they had both known him for years.

So, needless to say, while Elena seemed to be quite pleasant - so far - with her soft, cordial smile and her agreeable tone of voice, lightly sprinkled with remnants of her Spanish heritage, it would take more, alot more, before Octavien felt completely at peace around her. However, that was not to say that he would not be able to relax and be truly and perfectly friendly towards her, and in a casual manner too once the timing was right. He might even come to enjoy her company. But, it would be quite some time before he would dare to trust her, if ever it happened.

"Gracias, su Majestad", she said in response to his greeting and his excuse. "The honour is all mine. There is no need to apologize, such things are unfortunately beyond one's ability to control: though I trust your health has improved?"

She sounded perfectly sincere and as concerned as would have been expected, but... There was just something in her eyes that reminded him of what he suspected was visible in his own as well. Deception. She didn't believe him any more than he believed himself, and given the way they were both carefully scrutinizing one another, assessing looks, intelligence and mental strength, it came as no surprise. She was studying him as intently as he was studying her, which was most likely the reason why she didn't believe him, and why he could tell that she didn't.

Well then. He clearly was wasn't the only one to see through the lame excuses the King had made. Or, in Octavien's case, failed to make. Which would mean that either they were truly so transparent that even the blind would be able to see through them, or Her Excellency was at least fairly intelligent. Another thing that, just as was the case with her comely exterior, could be as much a blessing as it could be a curse. Dimwitted women might cause trouble at first, but would often turn out to be quite easily controlled eventually, and kept from making fools out of themselves and their spouses. Intelligent ones, however, although they could be most stimulating company and, if fate would have it, valuable allies and accomplices, would also be likely to cause alot more problems, if they did not see eye to eye with their partner. And not by something as easily handled as making a fool of themselves.

With silly goose obviously not being the case with Elena, it only remained to be seen if she would be friend or foe. She seemed friendly enough, but then again, one would indeed have to be a silly goose to act any different in their first encounter with a Prince.

"Please", she said, motioning towards the set of comfortable couches and sofas in the room, as an invitation for Octavien to sit.

Octavien's gaze followed the gesture, but instead of landing simply on the group of furniture, it swept across the entire room, from one side to another, as he took in the view he had only seen once before; on his first and, so far, only wedding night. A mock consumation of the marriage to Adalita. He had been relieved then to not have to actually bed her, as she had already been far beyond the border of loosing her virginity. And while the girl had been pretty enough, she hadn't appealed to him. She'd proven herself to be quite crude, naive and gullible, and... Ah yes. A goose. Add to that the fact that he had been in love, and still was, with Isabella, and he hadn't been the least bit interested in doing anything beside sleep next to Adalita, at the most.

Nor was he particularly interested in doing anything more with Elena, when the time came for their wedding night to be shared, but... sadly, he doubted he'd enjoy the same 'luxery' of having his 'work' already done for him. Her Excellency was a chaste and pure woman. Or so he'd been told. Which would mean there was no easy way around that one. He'd be expected to... perform, not just by everyone outside the bedroom, but by the other person inside it as well.

However, that was something to be pondered later. He was getting far ahead of things now, and while it might be a good idea to prepare for what was to come, this was hardly the time. Not in the company of the woman who was part of the problem, and not during his very first encounter with her.
Thus, within a mere few seconds of starting it, Octavien finished his brief inspection of the room, noting to himself in passing that there was a certain girlishness in some of the details that he felt clashed with Her Excellency's womanhood. Adalita had still been very much a girl, despite her age, and Elena, while still seeming fairly young, was most definately a grown woman. Octavien could only hope that changes would be made to the room, and that they would be made before the wedding. There simply was something... additionally off-putting about the idea of going to bed with another woman in the very room where his previous wife had died.
Granted, it still would be, technically, no matter what changes were made to the decor, but as long as changes were indeed made, it would no longer actually be Adalita's room.

Accepting the invitation to sit with a slight nod, Octavien moved to one of the sofas, and sat down, reclining back against the lush comfort it offered, while his gaze returned to Elena.

"Indeed it has", he replied to her question, having decided that while he was made to lie to her, he would do it as little as possible.

Thus, he spoke with his actual injury in mind. After all, it wasn't a very far-fetched or deceptive thing to do, considering what had happened yesterday. He still did require a bit of attention from the royal physician, just to make sure the wound kept healing nicely.

"I shall be back to perfect health in no time," he added with a slight smile. "Or so the physician tells me. Though I thank you for your concern."

That being said, the matter could be regarded as over and done with, and as he had little interest to dwell on something she most likely didn't believe anyway - lest she'd been informed of the 'attempt' made on his life, or the observations made by the other courtiers the previous day - he moved on to other matters;

"I trust your journey through our country was safe, and hopefully pleasant as well?"


(((ooc: Sorry so long, and possibly messy. My head's all over the place.)))

(((:doh Completly forgot about this! Luckily my friend unknowingly reminded me when she rented "The Other Boleyn Girl" today...(which Padme's picture has been updated to something a bit more...."accurate"....Even though its over 100 years earlier than the current RP year. I will try to have an RP up by tonight. Slytherin, Alissa, do you mind if Padme joins you?)))

Nervous laughter was particularly easy to identify. And as keen of an observer of people as Marie-Elisabeth was, she could detect it straightaway. And Bella’s laughter had a distinctly nervous quality to it. However, it was less simple to judge the reason behind the nervous laughter. Maybe Bella was afraid of the bugs herself, and was masking it with the laughter. That thought almost made Marie-Elisabeth laugh out loud but she kept it in.

“I agree” she said instead, pushing the doors to the orangery open with Bella following closely behind her “Being afraid of such little things is so silly. She didn’t have any brothers growing up though, so I suppose she didn’t become accustomed to them. With five mischievous brothers running around, we girls were always finding all manner of insects and creatures in our beds or desks. My little brother Max actually managed to sneak a frog into our dessert at dinner once. Mama had a fit”. She giggled remembering it, the look on her mother’s face when a little green frog stared back at her from her plate was priceless. But she was distracted from her memories by Bella’s next comment, which she had wondered about too.


“I do have one confusion that has been playing upon my mind, Comtesse. I had heard that the Prince's name was Duc Silvius, while it is now Octavien Lahance?”

“You know, I was wondering the same thing” she said, leaning over to smell one of the exotic flowers, and smiling at the pleasant aroma “I was rather confused about it when I received the initial announcement of engagement with one name on it and then the wedding announcement had a different name. I’d like to know what happened there myself”.



(((OOC: Again, SO very sorry for taking a while. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, my writing just isn't coming to me when I want it to)))

Feeling that perhaps it wouldn't be the most ideal situation to have the girls present to witness a conversation in which Joséphine just might like the opportunity to clear the air, following the couple's day and, more importantly (at least as far as César was concerned) night apart, César had just barely finished speaking when he bent down to place both daughters gently back on the ground again, despite their protests ringing in both his ears. Still at the age where they had yet to learn to control their demands for the things they wanted, they left it no secret that they really didn't want to leave their father already. Yet, somehow - some might even call it a minor miracle, while others would simply call it the skill of a resourceful and experienced nanny - both girls were persuaded only seconds later to go with Bess, leaving the Marquis and Marquise with an opportunity to talk freely, without their children around to possibly pick up on anything less than harmonious going on between their cherished mama and papa.

It was an opportunity which César had thought would involve angry words, annoyance, or at the very least a bit of sarcasm on Joséphine's part, considering her decision to keep her distance from her husband during the night, and the morning as well. She wouldn't have done that, had she not been cross with him.
So, imagine his surprise then, when in response to his somewhat apprahensive and wary yet fairly cheerful greeting, recieved one that was equally cheerful, but lacking any and all signs of apprahension or annoyance.

"And I you", she said in a tone so soft he couldn't discern even the slightest bit of gal in it.

Huh.
It was not at all what he had expected. Hoped for, but not expected. To be perfectly honest, he didn't quite understand it. It hardly seemed she had been upset in the first place, or else there would be something to suggest she had a firm opinion of what he had and had not done the previous day. But why would she spend the night away from him if she wasn't angry with him? And why, if she was angry with him, would she act as though she wasn't? Unless, of course, she had been angry last evening, but changed her mind during the night or morning?
Or, could it be that she really was pregnant, and was becoming irrational and emotional already? César had heard a few friends describe the erratic behaviour of their pregnant wives, and how they had gone through phases of not wanting their husbands anywhere near them, let alone touching them. Joséphine was very much aware of César's tendency to be 'friendly' in bed, so could it be that she had forsaken their marital bed in order to avoid being touched by him? It seemed odd. Very odd indeed.
But then again, women in general could be quite difficult to understand sometimes, even to 'experts' such as César, whereas pregnant women were darned near impossible. Most of the time, not even they understood what was the matter with them!

But oh well. If she wasn't going to yell at him or snap at him, he sure as heck wasn't going to question it.

"It is a pity you left yesterday, you missed quite the spectacle in the gardens", she continued with a small laugh, as though the details of what had transpired amused her still. "I daresay there will be talk of 'His Majesty's brave rescue' for some time to come."

Those words made the smile on César's lips widen momentarily, as his mind wove images of how it all must have played out, as well as in appreciation of the fact that their plan had indeed turned out to be a successful one. Though it was a smile that would soon fade ever so slighty, as he was once again reminded of how he had neglected her, especially since at the time he hadn't known she was alright. He'd suspected as much, based on the fact that if something had happened - God forbid - they would have sent for him. But he hadn't actually known anything for certain until he had returned and been informed by the maids. And now, coming face to face with Joséphine and hearing her tell him about it, he felt twice as bad as he had the day before, while in Marie-Elisabeth's pleasant company. And twice as proud of having such a spirited wife, that would even consider doing what she had done. She truly was one of a kind.

"I can honestly say I know of no other woman who would have dared to do such a thing", he said and met her gaze, not without admiration and adoration. "Let alone do it as successfully as you obviously have."

Drawing closer, he then took her hands in his and gave them an affectionate squeeze as he continued, softly now;

"And, I am truly sorry, my love, for disappearing the whole day. I had promised to take Comtesse de Valois riding, to... Heavens, what have you done? Is that from yesterday?!"

While he spoke, he had brought her hands to his lips in order to plant a soft kiss on each of them in between the words of his explanation, and so the scratches on them and on her arms had been bound to catch his attention. Needless to say, at that moment he forgot all about the explanation he'd been giving, as well as the kisses upon her hands that had been meant to accompany it. Instead, he carefully turned her arms to examine them, inspecting the blemished skin.

(((OOC: Robyn, so sorry for the delay, I just managed to get this done. Also, take your time replying, I can't get another reply in for a while. Been a bit busy lately.
Elektra, I have no objections )))

Bella was afraid. That was all. She was afraid. Not of Marie-Elisabeth, not of Elena, not of anyone, but rather something. Spiders. Eurgh. Disgusting, ugly, filthy things. What on Earth was the point of their existence?! What on Earth did anyone have to gain from ridiculous little eight legged things crawling over everything and everyone. Why?!

It was not a baseless fear, however, Bella having had her own unpleasant brush with arachnids as a child. It was most disturbing and every time she even looked at another one of those disgusting things, she was simply reminded of that particular incident alone in the woods, aged seven. It was true then, something you simply cannot change about yourself.

Therefore, while Marie-Elisabeth continued to lead their way into the Orangery that was sure to house as many of the vermin as possible, all Bella could think of were the spiders. They were sure to be there. Waiting, watching. God. Yet, no, she would not give in to petty fear, she wasn’t going to give Marie-Elisabeth the satisfaction of watching her squirm. She would stand her ground. She would wield her perfected skill of masking her true self. Or at least try.

“I agree,” Marie-Elisabeth spoke, giggling, oblivious to the inner turmoil brewing inside her companion. “Being afraid of such little things is so silly. She didn’t have any brothers growing up though, so I suppose she didn’t become accustomed to them. With five mischievous brothers running around, we girls were always finding all manner of insects and creatures in our beds or desks. My little brother Max actually managed to sneak a frog into our dessert at dinner once. Mama had a fit.”

Oh, I bet she did, Bella thought tightly to herself, struggling to let go of the tenseness that was beginning to take hold of her. Though, I wouldn’t tell darling Charles that, he might get ideas.

“You know, I was wondering the same thing,” she answered Bella’s question while admiring flowers as they passed. “I was rather confused about it when I received the initial announcement of engagement with one name on it and then the wedding announcement had a different name. I’d like to know what happened there myself.”

Bella liked nature, there was no questions in that. It was probably why she had run off into the woods in the first place that day. Nature, she liked, spiders, definitely not. They weren’t a part of nature, they were abominations, eight-legged freaks.

“Well, I suppose it’s all in the past now,” Bella superficially dismissed, inside vowing to get to the bottom of it, as her fingers played over the silky surface of the flowers, the colours vibrant against her olive skin. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Marie-Elisabeth either knew nothing or was paticularly intent on keeping quiet about what she did know. The former seemed likely, given that the Comtesse had only been at court for a week - and already so friendly with a particular one of it's courtiers - while the latter, was most certainly something invoked by Bella herself. “Have you been at court before, Comtesse, or is this your first time?”

Glancing subtly at the blonde woman, Bella decided that she was either very dim or very clever. While it was likely that Marie-Elisabeth was as airheaded and pretentious as she seemed to be - certainly matched by Bella's own tactlessness the other day - it posed no harm to simply allow the Comtesse to talk about herself - which she was quite obviously dying to do - to truly assess her. And of course, it would give Bella enough distractions from... unwanted visitors.

Despite her intense dislike for the proliferation of women in her family with the Marie prefix, Marie-Elisabeth was now making a solemn vow to name her first daughter Marie-Therese after her mother. The amount of things her mother had taught her that had come in handy over the past week both astonished her and made her exceedingly grateful. Being the youngest girl, aside from other obvious good points, had meant she reaped the benefits of experience. Having already had ten girls by the time Marie-Elisabeth was born, her mother was well versed in what kind of lessons and information were valuable and worthy of passing on to a young lady.

One such lesson was never to tell anything worthwhile to anyone you didn’t trust. You could chat to them about the weather, family, how ridiculous that woman looks in a bright green dress, but you never told them anything serious. Marie-Elisabeth didn’t trust Bella and farther than she could throw her, so she was following that advice perfectly. It was similar to the tactics she employed to get things done the way she wanted. Merely pretend ignorance so no one sees you as any kind of threat until it’s much too late to do anything about it.


So she nodded and smiled as Bella agreed with her statement. “It is indeed” she said, while inwardly enjoying Bella’s subtle, but still noticeable, discomfort at being in the Orangery. She wasn’t quite sure if it was because of she herself or, as she was beginning to suspect, that she suffered the same lack of fondness for insects as the sister in law she had mentioned. Now that was certainly something that, if true, could prove a great source of amusement. Marie-Elisabeth herself wasn’t overly fond of them herself, but she was hardly about to shriek and run away at the sight of them like many ladies would. She had grown up with quite a few brothers after all, who all seemed to be fascinated with them, and had gotten used to them.

Unfortunately she couldn’t spot any unpleasant insects at the moment, but she did note that they were the only ones roaming about the area. That made her grin as she realized that meant this area of the palace was not overly popular, and could be counted as one of the places she had been looking for. But letting her mind wander that way in current company was highly unwise, so she turned her attention back to Bella’s question about her experiences at court. “ No, this is not my first stay here” she said, shaking her head “I was here once or twice as a child with my father, the late Duc de Normandie. My husband and I visited once before our son was born as well, but since Charles wasn’t overly fond of extensive travel we mostly spent out time at home. He said he’d done enough travelling as a young man with the army, and I was perfectly happy to stay at home with my little boy”.


(((OOC: Don't worry about it Alissa, I understand I took a while with some of mine too so I won;t say a word against you taking some time off )))

During the course of the past couple of weeks, Octavien had started wondering if he had been far more naive than he had ever realized, when coming to court, with his mind set on climbing the social ladder, gaining if not power and wealth, then at least power. Wealth he already had, to a certain extent, though not a fortune of his own. And while wealth could often buy power, it was equally often a power that could be just as easily taken away, while power gained through deeds and effort, would in comparison be far more long-lasting and durable. Deeds tended to manifest themselves in people's minds, often turning over time from fragmented pieces of gossip secretively shared behind the safety of delicate fans or closed doors, to elaborate tales of honor and bravura, or, in the case of somewhat more shady methods having been used to obtain this power, of masterful trickery and deceit. Either way, your journey to power would be respected, perhaps laced with admiration, perhaps with fear, and not scoffed at, as was often the case with those that simply "donated" a hefty sum to the royal treasury in order to be rewarded a grander title for their "loyalty".
Octavien, having been taught and intelligent enough to know the difference, had hungered for the former. And he had earned it.

Yet, in retrospect, he now realized that he had been so focused on what he was determined to achieve, that he had not spent a single minute reflecting on the cost. He had gotten to where he wanted through a mix of honor and deceit, which ironically rendered most of those around him unaware of his true path to the position as Prince of the kingdom. As far as they were concerned, he had gotten there simply because Princess Adalita fell in love with him and chose him for her husband. A way rather similar to that of gaining power by buying it. They didn't know of his sacrifice, they didn't know of the loyalty and the devotion towards the royal family that was behind it. They knew nothing of the decision based on honor, nor did they know of the less-than-honorable affiliation he had with the Queen, which had been the reason why he was able to make that honorable decision in the first place. He was, in short, unable to enjoy the respect he himself felt he was entitled to. Especially from the King and Duc d'Lorraine, who at this point seemed to be two of his most prominent advesaries, in a roundabout, stoical way, when they should in fact be among the most grateful ones, as far as Octavien's marriage to Adalita went.
His relationship with the Queen, however; not so much.

Furthermore, his new position had forced him to adapt a bit of a new disposition, peeling away the many layers of Octavien's faith in people. Yes, he had known people in general were prone to stabbing one another in the back over the slightest chance of recieving a measly few more crumbles of the pie, at court more than any other place. But he had never actually experienced it all first-hand, until just recently, and reality was always a most cruel teacher. Effective, but cruel.

It was, in part, because of this loss off faith and trust in people, that he was currently dead set on not trusting Elena. He didn't trust her, and he didn't trust the King. For all he knew, the two of them could be conspiring together, for some reason or another. And with the King so obviously incapable of realizing Octavien's true potential, the young Prince decided that instead of letting it just annoy him, he might as well end up using it to his own advantage. Which was why, during this very first encounter with his future and possibly misleadingly congenial bride, he decided to hold back a bit, to give Her Excellency the impression that he just might be a little more simple-minded than he really was. If she intended to decieve him somehow, like so many others had tried to do lately, or try to control him, either for her own purposes or on behalf of the King, having her think her future husband to be fairly easily fooled or manipulated, just might help expose her agenda, and to expose it rather quickly.

And so, he didn't show any signs of having caught that somewhat displeased glint in her eyes at the cordial but obviously rather reserved reply he had offered her. However, that was not to say that he DIDN'T catch it. He did, and it only spurred his inner musings even further. There was indeed something stirring in the mind behind those piercing eyes of hers, and at the moment, it obviously wasn't all pleasant.

"Certainly, we have encountered no trouble", she replied, with that faint flicker of impatience now gone, "and I could not have wished for a more picturesque journey. Although I confess I am looking forward to a night's rest in a proper bed, even the most comfortable of coaches tends to become uncomfortable and stifling after a while."

At the mention of 'a proper bed' her eyes wandered briefly to the lavish and feminine, yet rather robust piece of furniture that dominated the room, followed by Octavien's, as her words conjured a few mental images to him as well. First and foremost that of the pale, emaciated form that had been the dying former Princess, soon replaced by memories of the first wedding night he had spent there, and notions of what his next one might be like.
However, they didn't get much of a chance to manifest temselves in his mind just yet, as his attention was still focused mainly on Elena, and so when next she spoke, his gaze immediately returned to her.

"Your Majesty...", she started, sounding almost hesitant, which, as she continued, Octavien would clearly see the reason for. "I would also like to express my condolences for the loss of your wife; I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been to bury your bride... a mere few days before taking another."

However, while sounding rather apprahensive for the most part of her statement, with her final words her tone of voice changed ever so slightly, to something that Octavien couldn't quite pinpoint. Was she just trying to carefully break the ice, or was there something else hiding beneath the surface?
Well, time would tell. For now, Octavien decided to appreciate it for what it was, at least in part; a sign that she was not an all too strict follower of 'proper' protocol.
Thank God for that. They just might end up having an actual conversation. And, it would've only been too ironic if she had been an ardent follower of all social rules and etiquette, leaving Octavien to have lost a wife whom he'd wished was a bit more conservative and correct, in favor of one he would have wished was less so.
But, as it would seem, this one was at least prone to valuing a meaningful conversation over a completely correct and forgettable one. Much like Octavien himself. It was only fair then, that he met her halfway, and didn't leave her to go out on a limb all on her own. Even though he suspected there was a bit more of a purpose to her statement, than just breaking the ice.

"Thank you", he replied, his lips now forming a modest variant of his usual but lately increasingly rare, amiable smile. "And please accept my sympathy, as I know your position is indeed a difficult one as well."

It was a calculated statement that went on to show compassion and warmth, which, while they were both pleasant qualities, were not necessarily the qualities of a sharp mind.
For indeed, it was true; Princess Adalita, regardless of her flaws, had been loved and admired, by the court and by the people. Thus, marrying the upstart and very recently widowed Prince, and claiming not only Adalita's title, but her husband and her very room as well, was not a position to be truly envied. Especially not this soon after the Princess' death. People were still very much fond of the memory of her, and just might see Elena as her illicit rival, despite the very real and undeniable difference that one was dead, while the other was very much alive.

“It is indeed,” Marie-Elisabeth continued her bland conversation as Bella’s sharp eyes scanned the area. No, no spiders yet. Had they all gone off somewhere and started plotting or something? Well, the further they were from her, the better. While her eyes worked diligently, so did Bella’s mind. Her thoughts at joining Marie-Elisabeth’s quest this morning had lay in the promise of finding somewhere for clandestine meetings. This simply was not the place. She didn’t care how much both she and Elena wanted discretion, but this simply was not the place. It would be a cold day in hell before she subjected herself to this repeatedly. On the other hand, Marie-Elisabeth had little discomfort in this place. She could only hope a certain Marquis had no fears to rival Bella’s as she watched a grin widen over Marie-Elisabeth’s features.

“No, this is not my first stay here,” she continued her life story as Bella stretched her shoulders slightly, smoothing down the expensive material of her dress to distract herself from her growing uneasiness. “I was here once or twice as a child with my father, the late Duc de Normandie. My husband and I visited once before our son was born as well, but since Charles wasn’t overly fond of extensive travel we mostly spent out time at home. He said he’d done enough travelling as a young man with the army, and I was perfectly happy to stay at home with my little boy.”

Yes, and why didn’t you continue to do so?! the words played out in Bella’s mind, but no words escaped her lips as she glanced up at the Comtesse and exuded a warm smile.

Marie-Elisabeth, as air headed as she seemed, could not possibly be this boring. Therefore, she was obviously unwilling to share. Honestly, Bella would truly, gladly watch paint dry than sit around listening to Marie-Elisabeth. Right now, she didn’t have that luxury. It was either the Comtesse or spiders, though the difference was a little blurry.

“Well, that must have been nice,” she said simply, her voice now somewhat hushed. Compose yourself, Bella!

((Sorry it took so long for me to reply. I've been very busy with sports and exams, but it's a lot better since it's all over now . I also hope that you're okay with Adele and Larkin going into the courtyard? I wasn't sure whether or not you would want to do that.))

"I'd be delighted to." Hearing his response Adele turned to face the Baron, smiling at him politely. She had hoped he would accept her offer, for it would give her the chance to become well known to all those who live in the palace.

"Wonderful," she replied, looking down at her dress. It was quite wrinkled from all the fidgeting she was doing, so she quickly smoothed it out and continued speaking. "Shall we head to the courtyard then? I think it would be best if we had some fresh air." Holding out her hand, the two of them strolled out into the courtyard. Afternoon had arrived, and the sun was at the peak of its height. Its rays beamed down on Adele, causing her to her to sigh quietly. Since spring had arrived the weather had made a drastic change, going from chilly to warm in a matter of days. It seemed as if it would take quite a while for her to get used to the hot temperature.

Due to the brightness of the sun, she closed her eyes slightly as she searched for a place to rest. Gazing around the courtyard her eyes rested upon a nearby bench, and she strode forward, gesturing for Larkin to follow. “Would you like to sit down and rest?” she asked curiously. “The choice is yours.” She gave a smile, hoping she wasn’t coming off a controlling. She didn’t want to force the Baron into doing something he didn’t wish to do. Besides, whether or not she wanted the him to do something, she couldn’t possibly control him. He did indeed have a mind of his own and if he didn’t want to sit down, then he wouldn’t.

Resting her hands by her sides Adele stood next to the bench, waiting for Larkin to reply. She gazed towards the older man, hoping he didn't think she was some pompous, overbearing woman.

(((OOC: Yes, that's exactly it *snicker* The spiders are all minions of Marie-Elisabeth and are planning to engage in guerilla warfare on Bella any minute now And you thought she had people assasins)))

The Marquis de Mont-de-Marsan liked to make things easy for himself. A true hedonist, he was simply too busy enjoying life and it's many pleasures, to waste time on matters of an all too serious or irksome nature, sometimes even going as far as to pretend they simply did not exists. As was the case with the sharp mind and keen sense of perception of his wife, in relation to his infidelity. Blissfully unaware of the fact that while she might not know about some of his affairs for sure, she had her suspicions about all of them, César still carried on with his small charades of having to go away on business every now and then, or being at a party or a meeting that ran so late that he had been asked by the hosts to stay the night, as riding home on a deserted road in pitch-black darkness could be quite the dangerous endeavor. All the while seeing on Joséphine's face the look he wanted and chose to see - that of believing his every word - when he offered his various explanations for missing from their bed, or, such as now, Joséphine's company for a notable period of time. Somewhere in his mind, balancing on the border of his consciousness and his subconscious, was the decision not to catch onto Joséphine's actual awareness of what she pretended not to see. An act, of which he saw only half the stage, mostly due to not being interested in the other half, while Joséphine herself saw, and watched, all of it. Usually, when it came to women, César would be able to discern what emotions were hiding behind their display of whatever feeling they were trying to enact, but when it came to that faint glow of bitterness in Joséphine's eyes when he himself acted as though nothing was wrong and no lies were told - or rather half-truths in his case, as he tried to avoid actually lying to her - he was as dense as a brick wall. (Apparently, cheating on her was not a problem, but telling her lies, that would leave a stale taste in his mouth.)

That was why he didn't see the diminutive, cynical twist to the smile Joséphine had offered as he greeted her, and it was why he didn't see the way she seemed to wince ever so slightly at his mention of a certain Comtesse. That, and the fact that he had now forgotten all about his intentions with Marie-Elisabeth yesterday, as he stood there, inspecting the tiny but noticeable scars running across the soft skin of his wife's arms.

"You are not going to work up a fuss about them too, are you?" she said, and César was once again perceptive enough to pick up on her tone of voice, this time being one of slight amusement hidden beneath a layer of sternness, as a way of disarming his concerns, which was helped along nicely by the smile on her lips. "Octavien and Comtesse Devine practically hounded me to have them treated yesterday."

Still, there lingered a little bit of skepticism in César's eyes when he glanced up at her, as though not yet fully convinced. Like most, he too had that piece of him deep down, that doubted everyone's good judgement but his own, and thus wouldn't believe in full that Joséphine was perfectly alright, until he himself had made sure of it. Though he didn't say anything, and when she made a move to withdraw her hands from him as she continued speaking, he reluctantly let go.

"But enough about that", she dismissed any further worrying, giving a small wave of her hand for emphasis. "I promise you, mon cher, they do not even pain me any more."

That being said, the subject was indeed closed, and she continued once more;

"You and Comtesse Valois went riding yesterday? I see you are getting along well; it reminds me I should perhaps socialize more, I seem to be missing all the news. I wonder if anything at all worthwhile has happened this morning."

Re-enter César's ignorance. With no effort at all, he completely missed the tell-tale intensity in her gaze as it locked with his, and the ever so faint innuendo of her awareness regarding his interest for Marie-Elisabeth, that stirred beneath the surface of the words about 'getting along'. Though he did remain observant enough to be thankful for the fact that she didn't leave that particular statement hanging in the air with a pause, forcing him to give some kind of reply, but simply continued with a much more welcome topic of conversation.

"It has", César confirmed with a nod, and his face lit up slightly with a rather sly smile. "Octavien's bride arrived not too long ago. A very attractive woman, if you ask me. I don't expect Octavien will have any problems enjoying... her company."

Words that from anyone else might have sounded innocent enough, but from the Marquis and his sometimes rather one-track mind... Well, suffice to say there was a hidden meaning there, brought to life even further by the slight twitch of his lips as he tried to suppress a chuckle, thinking about the reluctance Octavien had expressed to him in private, regarding sharing bed with a woman he didn't care for, and would have preferred not to meet at all. Especially considering he had been given no choice in the matter.

As a testament to her infamous composure skills, Marie-Elisabeth was able to resist the urge to do a triumphant dance around the room. It was difficult to do so, but she managed somehow. It appeared as though her “conversation” with Bella was having the desired effect of making the woman bored stiff and thinking Marie-Elisabeth had no worthwhile thoughts in her head, which was precisely what she had in mind. She inwardly laughed at the fact that she could probably keep it up for hours if she chose, with such an extensive and colourful family there was no shortage of stories to tell about them. It was also amusing her immensely to watch Bella’s continuing discomfort which, she was now all but certain, was due not just to her own presence but to the surroundings as well.

Marie-Elisabeth was actually quite enjoying the Orangery herself. She had loved spending time in the one that her family had at home as a child, admiring all the pretty flowers and trees growing in it. She wasn’t much of a person for traipsing about in the woods like her brothers were, but the peacefulness and beauty of the Orangery had appealed to her immensely. It was always relatively quiet and, in a family like hers, quiet was much sought after. She was actually rater amazed she hadn't thought to come here sooner.

“It was nice” she mused, bending down to pick up a flower that had fallen off the bush it was growing on “I wish he was still around to spend time with like that”.

She distracted herself from the impending sad thoughts that tended to come when she thought of her father by looking at the flower. It was a lovely creamy white colour that ironically reminded her of the bracelet she wore around her wrist. “There really are such pretty flowers in here, it’s amazing” she said, glancing down at it and noticing a spider on the stem. “Whoops, spider” she said, idly reaching towards the flower with her other hand and flicking it off.

“There, much better” she said, taking the flower and tucking it into her hat where it matched the false ones already winding around the brim.

“It was nice,” Marie-Elisabeth continued what was now quite literally beginning to bore Bella, picking up a fallen flower. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the other Comtesse, telling her that she frankly didn’t care how nice her marriage was. How very, very nice it was to sit at home all day. “I wish he was still around to spend time with like that.”

Possibly a minor tinge of guilt crept into Bella at the last statement. Quite evidently, Marie-Elisabeth missed him and for all her annoying traits, she was still human and worthy of compassion. However, Bella was not about to launch into a bout of sympathy for the woman. Compassion was one thing, sympathy was quite literally another kettle of fish and Marie-Elisabeth would be waiting for the cows to come home before Bella spared her any sympathy. So, she simply smiled understandingly as Marie-Elisabeth spoke.

“There really are such pretty flowers in here, it’s amazing,” she continued in admiration of the flower in her hand as Bella’s gaze wandered over to it.

Well, who would have thought, Lizzie? A pretty flower in an Orangery. How unexpected.] Bella thought sardonically to herself, watching the other woman. My goodness, I am shocked.

“Whoops, spider,” Marie-Elisabeth noticed and casually flicked off the disgusting life form. Meanwhile, Bella’s fears betrayed her. The sharp gasp of air that fled into her throat was uncontrollable as the step back that she took away from the Comtesse and her new friend. It was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because she was so expertly in control of all her other emotions and reactions, creating a perfect façade when she wanted to, but for the matter of spiders. A curse because it always seemed to break though every wall she ever raised, getting through to the real Bella.

“There, much better,” Marie-Elisabeth tucked the flower into her hat as Bella watched with slightly widened eyes. Oh, she had to get out. She had to leave now. She would drag Marie-Elisabeth out herself, in needs be, but she had to get out of here and now.

“Well, Comtesse, that certainly completes the hat,” she commented, somewhat hushed as each hand cupped around the elbows of the other arm. Tilting her head towards the door of the Orangery, the much desired exit, Bella forced a convincing smile. “Shall we continue our exploration of the palace?”

Looking over at Bella’s obviously fearful posture, despite her trying to hide it, it was hard not to smirk for Marie-Elisabeth right now. So very hard. It was taking most of her willpower not to break into a very unseemly grin, akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. This particular discovery was possibly one of the funniest things she had found out in a long time, and watching Bella jump back like she had just made it better.

“I would’ve flicked it in her direction if I had’ve known” she thought, settling for inwardly grinning “Accidentally of course. But I can’t believe it, the little twit is afraid of itty bitty spiders. Of all the stupid things to be afraid of, she picks spiders. I’m really going to have to thank Max for chasing after me with them so much”.

Distracted from her thoughts by Bella’s suggestion of continued exploration, she looked outside and realized that it was later than she had originally thought. She had initially possessed every intention of delaying their journey in the orangery as long as possible, hoping to find some more flowers with arachnid friends nestling inside. But with night time rapidly approaching, she thought better of it. That and the fact that if she had to stand around being pleasant with Bella much longer she might scream, despite her amusement at her discomfort.

“It appears as though we’ll have to delay that until another time” she said, gesturing outside “It’s gotten quite late, we had best be getting back to the palace before they serve dinner without us. I’d like to get a letter written to my little chou d’amour too, since I do so want him to be here in enough time to witness the wedding”.


(((OOC: HAHAHA I totally meant her dad by the wish he was around thing. She was a huggge daddy's girl Charles it's kinda like...poo he's not around to pay attention to me and give me things anymore LOL Feel free to have them leave Alissa)))

It is curious, how virtues never cared about before, can all of a sudden become so very treasured when they are no longer free to be practiced. One always wants what one can not have; the very essence of the human psyche, put into words.

In Octavien's case, the virtue in question was, of course, that of honesty. Where before he hadn't suffered the burden of harbouring too many scruples about telling lies at his own convenience, he now realized that through the recent turn of events, being truthful had somehow transformed, and was no longer a right, but a luxury. One that even as Prince, with the overabundance of the royal treasury at his disposal (officially, at least), he could not always afford. Not that he had been a compulsive liar before, or even come anywhere near the term, but he did use to have very few qualms about telling a little white lie here and there to help keep his life running smoothly.
Now, however, he found his preference to be that of telling the truth, rather than lies, even the small white ones, but that his current situation allowed him to do so only to a certain degree, lest he'd end up throwing away what he had worked so hard to achieve.
Or, it could be that his sudden urge to tell the truth, simply had to do with freedom of choice. When free to pick the when's, the where's and the what's of lying, Octavien still harboured few scruples, as proven by and to himself a mere few days ago when ridding himself and the Queen of the threat posed by a certain Marquess. But, when forced by others, such as the King and even César using his own benevolence against him, Octavien wanted nothing more than to rise against them and seize back control from out of their hands, but didn't, because of other people or factors involved.
If the wish sprung from immaturity, rebellion, or simple determination, he wasn't quite sure. Probably a little bit of all three, if he tried to look at it objectively.

Regardless, it was a wish that stuck with him. Even now, when with someone he absolutely did not trust, and would rather not have even met at all for that matter, if one was to be perfectly honest, he did his best to remain truthful, directly or otherwise. It was why when offered Elena's condolences on his wife's passing, he did not throw himself into a lenghty account of woe and heartbreak, and empty words of hopeful expectations regarding the union the two of them would soon be embarking on. No matter if it was what was expected of him. He did see the way her eyebrows rose, even if it was just barely noticable, in what appeared to be slight surprise at his lack of customary drivel, but if they had now both willingly deviated from the path of perfectly proper protocol, then he saw no reason to feed Her Excellency lies, when he himself remained skeptical to the entire affair. Furthermore, she obviously was bright enough to catch on to the deceit offered to her by the King, partly via Octavien, and so would surely catch the deceit lurking in such a phony statement as well.

As for the part about Adalita's death... Let them think he was too numbed by the pain to show his grief, or that the extent of the earth-shattering tragedy had yet to dawn on him, that he was struggling to shield himself from the moment that it would. Let them think that he hadn't loved her, that he had only used her as a way of rising to fame, wealth and power. Frankly, he didn't care. There were already so many theories popping out of the ground like mushrooms, that one more or less wouldn't matter. And to be perfectly honest, he was currently tiring of all these pretend games. The previous day, of trying to pretend to Joséphine that César was not off chasing other women again, had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and him feeling that he'd had quite enough of it all for a while. It was those games that got to him; when faced with someone with whom he wanted to be honest, but couldn't, lest he'd end up hurting someone else he cared for. Compared to those, the games of politics were a piece of cake.

"Finding oneself in a position one isn't accustomed to is never an easy task", Elena said, with an undertone to her voice and smile that would have left little doubt that her own was not the only situation she was referring to, had her final words not spoken for themselves. "One has two choices: either adapt and survive, or accept defeat and allow oneself to be overwhelmed by said difficulties. I believe Your Majesty understands best."

Gazing back at her, two sets of scrutinizing eyes locked with one another, Octavien couldn't help but feel a faintly amused smile tug at the corners of his mouth. She didn't exactly beat around the bush, did she? A mere few minutes into the conversation, and she had already touched the two subjects anyone who was even the slightest bit more timid would probably have avoided like the plague, for now. To most, a first meeting associated with sorrow and difficulties would mean a very glum first impression, and everyone knew how the first impression would make for quite a challenge, when trying to change people's opinion about oneself. Few soon-to-be Princesses would have dared to venture there, and risk causing the Prince, their future husband, to think of them not as a new and cheerful breath of life in his existence, but as a reminder of loss and trials suffered.
Ballsy lady, he'd give her that. He could even appreciate and respect it, for if there was one thing he wasn't interested in, it was another flimsy goose that had the attentionspan of a two year-old, and would forget all about promises and agreements and whatnot, at the drop of a hat. And if that meant his future wife would be an intelligent and thus possibly difficult woman to handle, then so be it. At least there was more to gain from such a woman, than a headache.

However, respect and appreciation or not, Octavien was still determined to keep a bit of a low profile, until he'd had the time and opportunity to observe Elena enough to decide whether or not she had her own agenda, if she was sharing an agenda with the King, or anyone else for that matter, or if the impression he currently had of her was simply caused by his bitterness turning into paranoia, and she was simply intelligent, but agreeable.
And so, he continued down the path he had already started on. With a small detour, as he couldn't help but make an observation;

"True enough", he agreed. "Though there are those that adapt too well too soon, I'm afraid."

More than once over the course history, upstarts such as himself had incited anger and fury in people, nobility and commoners alike, by turning arrogant and presumptious over night, forgetting their humble background or whatever other asepcts of their rise to power that were ill-advised to forget so easily. Neither the Prince nor the soon-to-be Princess were currently the darlings of the kingdom, and while Octavien genuinly hung onto his humility as a previously untitled man, and at the same time tried to live up to the expectations placed on the shoulders of a Prince, it still was no easy task. Nor would it be for Elena, even if the people and other nobles were not overly zealous in honoring Adalita's memory.

With those words, however, the small detour from his main path was over, and he continued after allowing the briefest of pauses to pave the way for a slight twist of the current topic;

"Does it bother you, Your Excellency?" he asked bluntly, though his voice was still pleasantly soft. "My rather modest and widely known ancestry? Or lack thereof, as some might say."

It was a question that, while it to Octavien was meant to cause a reaction, even just the tiniest sign of one, that he might learn something, could also easily be interpreted as the frank straightforwardness of a simple mind, unrestrainable by savoir-faire and subtleties, unbothered by the wisdom of putting things a bit more delicately.


(((ooc: I'm afraid this is all I'm gonna be able to post today. Working the night shift again, leaving in half an hour, and won't be home until the morning.)))

Damn it! It was clear Marie-Elisabeth had realised Bella’s deepest and truest fear. Damn. Argh! It was frustrating, to say the least, that the one thing she lacked control over had proved to be so embarrassing time and again. Wait. So what if Marie-Elisabeth knew? There were so many people afraid of ridiculous things like peas, why shouldn’t she be afraid of spiders? It was perfectly natural.

“It appears as though we’ll have to delay that until another time” Marie-Elisabeth replied to Bella’s request that they leave the Orangery as soon as possible. “It’s gotten quite late, we had best be getting back to the palace before they serve dinner without us. I’d like to get a letter written to my little chou d’amour too, since I do so want him to be here in enough time to witness the wedding.”

Oh, thank you God, I always believed in you, Bella sighed softly as she looked out the window the Orangery into the falling night. True, time had passed alarmingly and the morning’s encounter with Marie-Elisabeth had gripped her attentions until night time so that she was stuck in an Orangery with the other Comtesse. Furthermore, the woman had proved a worthless source of information and now only really fit for Bella’s breaks for entertainment. Good enough, she supposed. She’d continue to play the ‘silly little girl’ with Marie-Elisabeth, lest she was discovered to be what she really was.

“Yes,” she almost hissed with a smile at Marie-Elisabeth. “I must admit, I am simply famished.”

With that, she moved with even catlike grace towards the doors, the intentions in her steps not waning as Marie-Elisabeth followed her exit.

From the moment of his conception, life had always been good to César. The gods were always smiling at him, it seemed, blessing him with looks, charm and a way with words, and, as would be discovered as he advanced from childhood to adolescence, with the ladies as well. He was born into a wealthy and prominent family, and as an only child was practically spoilt rotten. Furthermore, once he was of age, he had the good fortune of being engaged to be married to not only one of the most beautiful and intelligent girls he had ever met, but one he instantly fell in love with as well, and would come to have two equally beautiful and bright girls with.

Sure there had been hard times, such as when his younger brother and his father died, but even then there had been circumstances to easen the blow. When his brother died, following a childbirth with so many complications that his mother could have no more children, César had still not been old enough to even understand the meaning of the word 'brother'. And when his father had passed, he had already grown to be a man, aware enough of the fickleness of life and death, and thus able to handle it accordingly, with a little help of his darling wife and the then newly born Adéle.

So, it really was no wonder then, that he was the kind of person to take the long and adventurous journey that was life, fairly lightly, and enjoy everything that could possibly be enjoyed. Nor was it any wonder that, since he had a tendency to judge everyone else's situations and tribulations according to his own views of the matter, he would find Octavien's current dilemma to be no dilemma at all. He didn't know about his friend's infatuation with the Queen, though he did know his marriage to the former Princess had not been one based on love, and so he didn't see the problem of marrying that dark, mysterious beauty they had all gotten a glimpse of a few hours ago. She was a magnificent creature; beautiful face, intelligent eyes and a build that suggested a body any man would be lucky to find in his bed, even though perhaps the many layers of fabric of her dress had left a bit too much to the imagination. And the fact that she was a Spaniard, why, that was only a bonus, wasn't it? Everyone knew how passionate and fiery Spanish women were.
Octavien ought to be quite pleased.

But then again, he might be. What he had expressed to César had been thoughts and fears harboured when he had yet to meet his future wife and see what she looked like. Apparently and for some reason, the Spaniards in charge of the arrangements had failed to send a portrait of Her Exellency, or even a description of what she looked like, so of course, as far as Octavien had known back then, she could've been hideous.
Now, however, he must have changed his mind, surely? He couldn't be that picky. Especially not since he, by his own admission, had not had a woman since coming to court. Hard though is was to believe, considering he'd seemed quite friendly with a certain brunette the other night. But oh well. Octavien always had been a bit of a slow operator, when compared to his smooth philanderer of friend.

Though while César was rather certain that Octavien would be overcoming his issues right about now, Joséphine on the other hand didn't seem quite as convinced.

"They are complete strangers though," she said. "Some men require more than a comely exterior to enjoy a woman's... company."

Along with the highly skeptical look and the shrug she offered, it all suggested that she would sooner believe Octavien's problems remained. And she hadn't even heard him talk about them.
Or had she? César had left her and Octavien with the opportunity to talk for quite a bit yesterday. Perhaps Octavien had expressed his concerns to Joséphine then? Or perhaps she too sensed that there was something going on between the Prince and the pretty Comtesse Devine, and didn't see it as a possibility that both relationships could co-exists, much like César's own marriage and affairs did.
Ah, sweet naive Joséphine.

"Nonsense", he said and gave a curt, dismissive wave, not even giving a single thought to the fact that he was pretty much about to incriminate himself. "When it comes to carnal pleasures, men are simple and easygoing creatures. It is women that recquire the work."

Mostly, he just said what he said in an attempt to instigate another one of the usual and highly entertaining sessions of playful bickering that he enjoyed so much, rousing her argumentative side by provoking her and simplifying something to a point in which he didn't fully believe, but could still argue as though he did.


(((ooc: *snickers* 'Sweet naive Joséphine'. If only he knew, eh? )))

((OOC: paintedgrey, sorry for the long silence, I've been busy IRL and my muse has gone south without posting an itinerary, the jerk (:p). There's a pretty intense thunderstorm here and I'm on a desktop, so I'll post a reply once the weather improves.))