Desecrate [England]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 Everyone called it “the most welcome news that ever came to the Portuguese people.” The marriage contract was between Catherine of Braganza and King Charles I – a powerful union between two Empires. There was a great amount of anticipation for this occasion. England would receive trading privileges in Brazil and the East Indies along with two million Portuguese crowns, while Portugal would receive military and naval support against Spain. Ana Sofia had been well acquainted with the Portuguese princess for most of her life as she was brought up in court. Catherine’s mother plotted and schemed to secure an alliance with England while her future husband celebrated his restoration by sporting with his mistresses. Poor Catherine was a quiet and serene young woman who declared her devotion to Portugal above all things and had said very little as they prepared to set sail for England. Any distress she must have felt didn’t show. Portugal often caught herself glancing at the honorable Catherine, wondering and feeling a small spark of guilt for how the court treated her as nothing but a game piece in European politics. She knew that she shouldn’t feel this way. She knew. This was simply how it was. Marriages were nothing more than contracts—economic gains and the solidification of alliances. Ana may have felt a bit differently if she knew how miserable Catherine truly was going to be. This future Queen of England would experience the pain and humiliation of having the future position as the wife of a licentious king. That too, however, was quite normal. She was also aware that Arthur had been in Lisbon days earlier, sorting out the finer details that his King had requested before receiving the Portuguese bride and her generous, golden dowry. Ana herself had seen very little of the other nation, for she had her own business to attend to. Although her King was against the idea at first, Ana was eventually allowed to travel with Catherine to England in order to witness the union herself. And, of course, to solidify her own alliance once more with England after their respective estrangement and restorations. She had been tied to Spain during that time. A fact that she was sure Arthur felt less than happy about. That probably explained their supposedly inevitable separation since the other nation’s arrival. Some of the avoidance of crossed paths felt a bit too forced, a bit too convenient. By the time they were ready to set sail, Ana arrived with her small crowd of usual officials along with Catherine and her ladies. She knew that Arthur was also somewhere aboard. She could feel it. The thought made her frown, a bit agitated. Catherine was also stiff and a little pale-faced as she boarded and set her things in order. Unfortunately for Ana, she was clad as a woman for this occasion. Her King thought it highly inappropriate for Ana to be cross-dressing for this monumental occurrence (which he was completely right about, but that still didn’t erase Ana’s secret resentment over it.) Her gilded skirts were heavy, her bodice too damn constricting, and her slippers too flimsy. She’d rather not be dressed as an ornamented, painted doll if she had any say over it. Her nose crinkled slightly at the thought. Call her unconventional for the times, but she was a nation who had seen many eras of decorum and consistently longed for the less stifling ones. After setting sail, Ana stayed by the ever rigid Catherine. The women were currently playing a quiet game of cards while the men could be heard through the wall. Ana almost felt like pacing, her discontentment growing with every second. It was awful being stowed away with the other ladies like useless cargo, but she had to wait. Her people were more desperate for this alliance, so naturally the next move was England’s. Ana leaned to the side just a bit, her face a pool of barely hidden impatience as she leaned into her hand, her elbow upon the table as Catherine once again doled out the cards, politely asking for her nation’s participation in the next hand. Ana acquiesced, though her wandering attention refused to tarry. [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

It was a strengthening of an old alliance that England had been waiting for, but wasn’t quick to rush into. It would happen with time, he reasoned. They usually had common enemies and their interests barely diverged in spite of the various wars and revolutions between the two, the alliance remained solid. For England, he felt that it rested on neither sentiment nor affection, but on fear and politics: the most common roots that form alliances. On the eve of the Puritan Revolution, King Charles I treated with France, Holland, and finally Portugal—all current enemies of Spain. Was England making a statement? Hell yes, he was. He had wanted to see that Spanish bastard suffer for the longest while and he couldn’t see his ardor for that nation’s disposal cooling anytime soon.

A marriage between Charles and a Portuguese princess was discussed as early as 1644. And now it was finally going to transpire. In return, England was more than happy to give her support against Spain until the idiot finally accepts her independence. It had been so long since he had last been in the other nation’s company. Part of the reason was Spain. He was fully aware that they were tied together in their own set of agreements for the longest time until things grew sour—they also traded their royalty for opportune marriages and they also probably have dallied together to strengthen political ties. Before they began to unravel.

He never wanted to let anyone get too close to him if he could help it, because this was what it always led to for their kind. It was difficult to stifle remnants of indignant feelings that he swore to always avoid. They were the worst kind for something that lived for centuries, especially if grudges were held, ones that festered for years.

England was very firm with all the arrangements and had very little care for acting like a bit harsh for being so meticulous about it. He had an audience with Portugal’s King, though was mindful in his request to speak with him alone. He had been also been careful about not running into the other nation before they had set sail. Their first reunion in years would not be an accident, but on his terms alone, he had decided a while back.

He couldn’t help a small smile when he felt the usual feeling that he got when another nation was nearby. Oh, good. She seemed to have at least escorted the lovely Catherine aboard. He knew what he should be doing by now… but he wasn’t inclined to at the moment. A part of him knew that it was unfair to make her wait, but he thought it would be more entertaining to wait—to allow her the ‘gratification’ of being the woman that he was sure that her King was inclined to see her be for the occasion.

And so, he took his sweet time, attending to various (unimportant) duties until the sun began its descent. They had started out around midday, so it was still a good length of time, but still not the entirely of the day. He had seen the clouds a bit earlier and wasn’t at all surprised to hear the beginning of a small storm brewing just outside. The sway of the ship became just a tad more intense and the patter of rain more forceful. Finally, while he was in his own quarters with a few of his officials, the spirits being liberally served and the cards being played, did he finally wave in one of his men, ordering him to call on Miss Russo. He had also dismissed most of the others, save for one.

He waited calmly, sitting at the table, nonchalantly shuffling cards. His body hummed pleasantly with the previous drinks, green eyes occasionally surveying the door for the nation.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES hurr you go, marv

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 Ana did wonder why it took Arthur so damn long to reaffirm his loyalty to her. She couldn’t reciprocate unless he made the first move. She wondered if he did so to admonish her for her already established alliance with Spain. The thought made her teeth grit painfully. He could be a possessive hypocrite at times— at least, in her opinion. Especially within matters that she couldn’t control. At the same time, she knew that England was at Spain’s throat – he wanted the maritime throne… and Portugal was willing to help him in that endeavor. If only if it would rid her household of Antonio as well. The alliance for her, yes, was very practical, but Ana did feel the occasional rush of affection for the empire. She tried to hide it as best as she could, however. She knew him well. She knew that he wouldn’t stand for it. Theirs was an alliance of power. She had seen very little of him while he was on her soil. The way that Arthur chose to go about that procedure irked her to no end. Again, the idea of forcing her into penance came to her thoughts, but she tried not to dwell on them. They were nations and therefore it would be ridiculous of him to be angry over her duties. They were all bound by duty. And so Portugal waited. And waited. The women around her were endlessly patient as they had been bred to be. But Ana was not one of these women. She was used to commanding and being a presence to her people. And yet here she was—bound by her King’s orders. They played every card game they knew, told every story, every inane piece of gossip was spread, and when Ana noticed the sun going down she felt like she was going to go mad. Candles and been lit and the gentle sway of the ship turned into something a little more violent with an approaching storm. Portugal’s interest rose just a little at the prospect of a storm. At least it was a break in the monotony. And then one of England’s officials finally came for her. That bastard! Finally he sends for me, that conceited, smug— her thoughts broke off into colorful curses and oaths that would match any seasoned sailor. On the outside, however, Ana was ready to put on a charade. She smiled at the official like she knew she should and in a show of decorum, straightened out her ridiculous skirts before following him out. Two of her customary officials followed. When she saw him, her irritation intensified, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel some of the old familiarity that they had shared many times before. She turned briefly to the two following her. ”Please leave us,” came the quiet order. Portugal eyed the English nation sitting at his table. ”You know how I appreciate the effortless and efficient manner in which you receive your guests. Really, I am flattered.” Her voice was even, but her tongue quickly became sharp upon reaching her last statement. [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

Oh, Arthur knew very well that Ana had little control over her circumstances. The situations that were often beyond anyone’s control were the ones that raised his ire the most. He was easily irritable—especially wherever Spain was concerned. He wanted something; Ana wanted something—theirs was an alliance that worked. If something worked in this screwed up world, then they were both better served when it stood protected. To an extent. Arthur was being a bit of an unreasonable prick to her by making her wait, and not only for negotiations, but for his unresponsiveness after their respective wars of restoration.

His gaze drifted uninterestedly as attendants began to light the candles. It cast a warm glow over the small space. It was a little too calm for Arthur’s current mood. Yes, if one were to go by appearance alone, he look quite collected, but looking a bit closer, he was quite the mess beneath—a turbulent mixture of anger, impatience, and dissatisfaction. To be honest, he always was a bit on edge before the finalisation of something like an alliance… or a reaffirmation, to be more specific in this occasion.

England could practically feel the irritation radiating from the other nation’s body. So much like her Iberian comrade, Portugal shared that nation’s penchant for passionate temperaments. It was very much to Arthur’s taste whenever he craved something a bit more unconventional for his peculiar appetite. Deep down, yes, he was lonely. And these days, he covered that weakness of his with a desire to conquer, to oftentimes fill his cold nights with meaningless company seeking meaningless pleasures. It was a pattern that he sometimes liked to turn into a secret little game of his, especially with their kind. Humans were a tad bit boring and predictable—far too young to experience anything that would hold his interest. Of course, there are always exceptions in history.

His eyes trailed over toward Ana and likewise felt the old familiarity. It was impossible to completely rid himself of sentimental bonds whenever it was supposed to be ‘just business.’ His little Alfred was evidence of that. Thoughts only briefly touched upon the colony that he had left behind yet again a little over a month ago to resume the labour of European politics. There, he was someone else… here, he could once more take on the role of the sadistic, hard-hearted bastard that took joy in saturating his ships’ floors with Spain’s blood, being well versed in instruments of torture, or even infrequently treating his closest ally with cruel contempt. No—the only version of ‘Arthur’ that he ever wanted Alfred to see was the one he tentatively revealed when it was only the two of them.

When Portugal gave the order for privacy on her part, England gave a noncommittal nod for his to also leave. The man made a quiet departure. Once they were alone, his lips curved slightly at her statement. ”You know me too well, my dear,” he said quietly, his voice amused through the stiff smile. He waved for her to have a seat across from him. ”Having you as my guest after all these years is particularly thrilling… though I’m sure this will go more smoothly with a bit of port in your blood, wouldn’t you say?” Now there was a sarcastic edge to his words as he poured her a cup of wine. He didn’t ask. It was an insistence. He delicately slid the cup across the table before her, his eyes connecting with hers; growing only marginally soft the longer he stared at his longstanding ally.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES god.. sorry this took so long.

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 Portugal and every other European nation out there knew what sort of nation England was at this point in time. He was brutal, probably a bit angry for whatever injustices had been done to him in the past, and he was going to pay the world back. Of course, these were just Ana's suppositions, but she was usually correct whenever Arthur was concerned. She just knew him that well, the bastard. Yes, he was definitely in one of those moods. Portugal could only sigh irritatedly at the sheer arrogance of everything--even with the way that he was looking at her. It was infuriating... Despite that, Ana was aware of his loneliness. She felt it when they had first met, when they had first formed their alliance, and even when they had first slept together... and every other time after that. She wondered if they would continue this dysfunctional pattern of theirs well into the future. Portugal internally scoffed at the thought, but her gaze was blank. As much as she hated to admit it, she would allow that pattern--even if it brought enough pain to make any normal person stop. Her relationship with him was complicated and she was sure that it would remain that way. Arthur did tend to attract those sorts of relations whether he knew it or not. She felt his eyes on her and the thought prickled her skin, it was both pleasant and frightening--like the thrill of a warm and dizzying poison. Her fists tightened in her lap, against the smooth silks of her stupid skirts. After a moment of hesitation, she peered back at Arthur, locking with his stare, matching it with her own, lofty, somewhat defiant gaze. At least England followed her example and dismissed his attendant as well. Then they could have their private meeting, their private words, and their private deeds. The corner of Portugal's mouth curved slightly when she heard him speak. "Perhaps I know you too well for my own well-being, querida," she drawled, her term of endearment more sarcastic than endearing. She followed his unspoken request and sat opposite of him. The stupid piece of wood between them was annoying, Ana immediately summarized as soon as she had her seat. Portugal snorted softly at England's polite assessment. That's all it was. "I wonder why that is. Does having my company really thrill you that much?" She wasn't really looking for an answer. In fact, she probably didn't want to hear what he had to say on that. "You have port on hand? How novel." She spoke with mock surprise, matching his dry sarcasm as best as she could with her insincere tone. Yeah, she never took this side of him very well. Beneath it all, she could hear the order. Bastard. But Ana rarely ever turned down port wine. It was a little indulgent weakness, especially for those who were grateful for the small bit of comfort out at sea. She took what was offered as soon as he slid it across the table, relishing a drink from the offering. It was good. Bitter and spiced, just the way she liked it. "Lovely as always, England," she sighed, her words still not entirely sincere, but at least she was a bit calmer now. Upon noticing his stare and the small show of softness in them, her aloof exterior cracked just a little and she felt a small blush coming on. "So--" She was quick to change the subject, looking away from him in a poor effort to hide her reddened cheeks. "--are you going to join me... or are you just going to watch me drain your porto?" Her eyes darkened slightly as she swiveled back to face him, her expression mischievous. [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

England quite enjoyed having things that he didn’t have when he was younger and weaker—power being one of them. Others weren’t so keen on hurting him now that he was an empire in the making now were they? Even with allies, he made sure to keep himself at a distance. There was even a wall of sorts between Ana and himself. He couldn’t let anyone get too close, because all that would accomplish was more pain… more betrayal… and more loss. That’s all he’s ever received in return for opening himself up to anyone. Portugal’s assessment of him was correct to a certain level. He still didn’t completely trust her and he wasn’t sure if he ever could—no matter how many times she shared his bed or revealed her own secrets.

God, he remembered their first time—it reflected like the scattered fragments of distant memory with each time they met up from then on, whether it was to reaffirm their loyalty or even to simply meet for negotiations. Secretly, he enjoyed her company. She was able to somehow keep his favour, so he continued to respond to her. Once upon a time, he had also enjoyed her Iberian neighbor’s company as well, though that was a poor comparison, for he enjoyed it for far different reasons and to achieve entirely different purposes. Portugal was more to his taste—a fact that he would consistently relate to Antonio whenever he would see him next. Probably at the end of his sword. And preferably with the idiot’s blood on it first.

Arthur laughed softly when he noticed Portugal’s brazen gaze. She was giving it back to him, as the nation should; she was a grand empire, the first among the Europeans. (Unbeknownst to them at the time, she also would be the longest standing one.) Ana perhaps handled it with far more grace than the other Europeans—she never seemed to flaunt or misuse her power when measured against the others. Perhaps that came with the wisdom of age. Whatever it was, it was something that England could respect.

His expression grew flat when he heard the endearment that she sometimes used with him. He didn’t comment, but it was something that he rarely liked to hear outside of their usual personal engagements. Not that they’ve had one of those in a while… And judging by Portugal’s somewhat annoyed air, he was doing a fair job at irritating her. He knew that she wasn’t looking for answers from him, judging by the dry tone she used, but he was going to answer anyway… just to bother her even further for his own entertainment. ”I actually prefer to see you agitated, Ana. You always did look ever so lovely whenever you glower at me like that.” His amusement heightened when she accepted the Porto. He knew she wouldn’t not take up on the offer.

England made a quiet, musing sound, still looking her over when he heard her challenge. A smile twisted the privateer’s lips. ”As much fun as it would be to watch you empty my Porto on your own… drowning with company sounds like the better alternative.” He poured himself a generous serving. It was strong and wouldn’t take much to reach that level that he had been looking to reach for a while. Any bystander could see that he was addicted to acquiring his next rush. Call it what it was—a phase, an adolescent phase for a nation even. ”There’s something else I’d like from you, Ana,” He spoke after drinking a bit, reveling in the warm glow of the liquor as it spread through his veins, his smile now dripping with mischievous humour.

There was a long pause, allowing her to interpret his words however she may as he fingered a neatly stacked deck of cards to his right, sliding it forward against the smooth wood of the table. ”Fancy a quick match?” The tone seemed completely innocent... his gaze, not so much.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES why do I love this? >xD

TEMPLATE BY WE WERE INFINITE ! OF CAUTION 2.0

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 Portugal could feel that wall sometimes between them—thin and invisible—but there and impenetrable as always. England tended to do that... always shutting others out. Sometimes she wished that he would trust her a little more. She wasn’t going anywhere. Well… aside from that little issue with Antonio when he pulled her back to his side, like a possessive irmão mais velho… But she was quick to return to their former alliance after that mess had been taken care of. Even after sleeping with her in the past, Arthur still kept that wall between them… and it was always difficult to see anything other than what he chose to show her. The frustration sometimes mounted so terribly that she didn’t want to see him at all. But of course, their leaders would never allow that. And in the end, she knew that she would come back. She also remembered their first time. Probably a bit more vividly than him due to how nervous she was for the alliance confirmation. At the time, Portugal was a little more developed than her companion, slightly taller, gangly, and more experienced in how alliances were sometimes formed. Despite how young Arthur had looked when she’d first laid eyes on him, there was a certain age and sullenness underlying his gaze. It was probably inevitable with what he had been through prior to their alliance. Even though Antonio had burned a good portion of the bridge between them when he tried to dominate her several times, she couldn't help but occasionally look back on everything that had happened between them prior to his greedy spasms. Gaining power certainly had a way of making the once-innocent Antonio into an insane, gold-loving mestiços. Sometimes it worried Ana to see glimpses of that in Arthur. Hopefully he would end up handling it better than her neighbor. Portugal's slight glare only intensified when Arthur laughed at her reaction. It annoyed her that she was apparently amusing him when she had intended to do the opposite. She didn't want to amuse him... The desired effect seemed to take place though when he finally gave her one of his flat expressions. Probably at the sarcastic endearment. This time, she smiled "innocently" back, amusement reflecting back at him. "Of course you do--" she snorted, leaning back in her seat. She couldn't help the slight blush from touching her face when he indirectly used his flattery against her. Dammit, what the hell was she supposed to say to that? Nothing apparently. She took a long sip from her glass of porto, hoping to hide her flushed cheeks behind the excuse of wine. "Drowning in porto is always better in pairs," she laughed quietly, taking another long drink. There was a little bit of snark in her voice--though she only used it with others that she was comfortable with. The swirl of alcohol, now as it ran in her blood, only made her skin feel warmer. And her face seemed to follow suit when he stated that he wanted something else from her. Only a few things came to mind and none of them were lighthearted affairs. Resting her elbow on the table between them, she rested her chin in her palm, tilting her head slightly as if to say she was listening. It was probably best not to jump to conclusions. Especially with him. Her expression didn't change when he suggested cards. Ana wasn't buying it... especially with that look he was giving her, but she would play along for now. Her brow rose as she suggested the first game that came to mind. "French ruff?" [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

That wall was meant to keep others out—always to keep others from getting too close. Apparently if he was quick to allow others past those well-structured defences, they would just as quickly hurt him. England was sick of being hurt. And everyone was ever so reliant in doing so in his experience. Even his allies weren’t allowed to slip under the wire. Even if Portugal allowed him past hers, he still had yet to offer the same courtesy. No matter how close they seemed with their seemingly unbreakable alliance, he still kept his distance.

If Antonio was possessive within his motives of attempting to bind Ana with him, then Arthur was just as possessive (or even more so, in some instances) when he had viciously snatched her back. Then again, he hated the Spaniard with an almost irrational passion, so any motive alongside that seemed viable. In either case, Arthur was glad to hear of Ana’s eagerness to return to their former agreement. They needed each other at this point in time—and they used each other for political gain. (At least in Arthur’s case…)

Upon first seeing Portugal a couple centuries ago, he felt so young and inexperienced… and he was. Then, Arthur looked somewhere between the ages of thirteen and fourteen. He felt so awkward compared to Ana—who looked so much more like an adult next to him—England with his stroppy limbs that he had yet to fully grow into. And then of course, when their kings had finally sealed the alliance, their first time together was even more awkward. He was too nervous, excited, and scared all at once (though he would never admit to it.) All of those were painfully apparent, however; upon making it to the bed… and he promised, whispering apologetically into her soft skin, that next time would be better.

Presently, Portugal’s intensified glare only caused amusement to settle over his features. Even if he wouldn’t admit anything else or explore anything beyond the surface of what he might have felt for Ana, she was good company. For that only, he continued to favour her above the other Europeans he currently had alliances with. Her “innocent” smile towards him caused a similar one to creep slightly at the corners of his mouth. And in that moment, he knew what he wanted from her… That—and her slightly flushed reaction to his words. Everything about her at the moment solidified his current craving.

”Everything is better in pairs.” His voice lowered. There was an almost haughty look to his eyes as they travelled slowly over the female empire's form. There was a silent claim, demand, and heat in his stare, though he was quick to shift his attention to shuffling the cards, dropping the edge of them harshly against the wood of the table, his gaze flicking back toward Ana every now and then. He read her posture and her expression, seeing the doubt and subtle acquiescence.

He smiled without warmth at her suggested game. He laid the cards down in the appropriate arrangement before looking back towards Portugal, taking a long drink of porto. ”You do the honours of picking the trump, love.” He wasn't anywhere near being affected by the wine, but he could feel the comforting heat of it settling low.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES =D

TEMPLATE BY WE WERE INFINITE ! OF CAUTION 2.0

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 First times were always more intensely remembered than anything that followed. Portugal had always thought that her first time with England was a bit endearing with all the awkwardness matched with the stiff formality of the alliance—things that she tried to cast aside as much as she could at the time. The officials were particularly smug when they articulated that Ana was to seal the contract with Arthur. That, perhaps, was the worst part of the entire exchange. Her cheeks had remained a dark shade of red for a good while afterwards and she suspected that Arthur hadn’t fared much better. Yes, he was young, but everything worked out in the end. Portugal did her best to be gracious with the inexperience on the young nation’s part; she could see the common mixture of nervousness and excitement when he touched her. There was little pleasure in it for Ana at that moment, more so because of her age and the fact that it was over so quickly, but she also didn’t mind. She remembered pulling her arms tighter around the nation when he had whispered promises to her, offering a small smile and telling him not to worry about such things. Age and experience quickly improved that facet of their alliance, more than making good on those promises. He never left her wanting (at least, not usually) and Arthur proved to be as ardent in his love as he was in his hatred. It made light shivers prickle across her skin just thinking about it. Judging by the expression England was currently wearing, he might have been thinking something similarly. Portugal glanced about the room until her eyes paused momentarily at the small bed tucked away in the corner. She wondered how long it would be until they became familiar with it. Knowing their usual pattern of doing things, it wouldn't take too long... Then again, it’s not as if they’ve never made use of unconventional pieces of furniture as well. England’s words interrupted her casual train of thought and she focused on him once again. An amused half smile briefly spread across her lips. ”Of course. Experience is always the superior instructor, wouldn’t you say?” Again, Arthur’s stare burned her. A part of the female Empire disliked the arrogance and possessiveness that he never cared to hide… but Ana had a bit of trouble untangling her complicated feelings for him all the same. She abhorred the way he sometimes treated her with indifference, but at the same time, she couldn’t ignore the uncontrolled inner flush every time he looked at her. The male Empire was difficult to read, though, as always. His next smile to her was cold and Portugal tried her best to ignore it and the way that it made her stomach tighten. Annoyance narrowed her eyes. Without response, she picked a card. It was one of the solitary queens. She held it between her middle and forefinger for Arthur to see. Her face expressed nothing as she placed it back on the table. ”Shall we begin, querido?” [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

If Arthur knew of Ana’s thoughts concerning their first time, the blood probably would have rushed to his face. Sometimes certain firsts were better left in the past. While it wasn’t England’s first "first," technically speaking. That particular honour unfortunately went to France and it was an event that burned within his memory, planting a resentment that would last for many more centuries to come. However, Ana was the first woman that Arthur had ever been with, as well as the first that he had been a willing partner with. He remembered being awkward and embarrassed. Ana’s memory would be correct in the stiff atmosphere surrounding their first alliance. Arthur was perhaps even more nervous and formal than she had been, given that he was still so young and completely inexperienced.

Ana’s graciousness in the very beginning was what caused Arthur to favour her above the other countries that he had formed alliances with in the very beginning. She was fierce, but not to the point of losing that warm consideration for others—a trait that Arthur lacked. And yes, there was nothing more mortifying than finishing so quickly his first time with her, shaking in the afterglow, and sinking into her receptive warmth. His promise was to someday bring just as much, and more, to her in the future. A promise that he was quick to fulfill, growing more confident with each time that they were together, their alliance reaffirmed. Eager and young, Arthur used to anticipate the moment when he would be with Ana again, like a boy still within the ‘honeymoon’ phase of a new relationship.

Things were changing; however, the longer that they had known each other. England grew more ambitious and brutal with his steady gain of power while Portugal seemed to remain somewhat wary of him. He never pondered the reasons, but he did notice her cautious air around him lately... In either case, Arthur didn’t want her to be dissuaded from their commitment to the alliance. Despite his ambitions, he still valued their agreement. Despite his jealousy and spite over her perplexing relationship with Spain, he still fought for her... and he still wanted her.

Arthur’s smile widened at Ana’s statement. ”It usually is. Sometimes the inexperienced moments, where we’re at our most vulnerable and weakest, are also the most memorable.” Obviously, they were discussing something else. Hiding behind their words and expressions. It was fun and Arthur couldn’t help but to be entertained.

Upon noticing the revealed trump, his expression grew smug. Green eyes peered up towards her, shining with amusement. ”Queens… how appropriate.” Considering their circumstances, of course. The Empire’s thoughts briefly wandered toward the Portuguese princess waiting in the small quarters, soon to be the Queen of England. He watched Ana’s face carefully, wondering how she fared during this entire exchange. Exchange and a promise, because that’s all royal marriages were in the end. ”You must be looking forward with great anticipation for this event...” England quipped in a neutral tone, still watching Portugal carefully from across the table as he worked out the cards between them, flipping them harshly against the worn wood.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES c;

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 Ana had made it a goal of hers to never use her power as an Empire in the way that Spain had—yes, although she had colonies, she never had the extent of Spain or even England, but she tried to be fair with what she did have. She never wanted to lose herself in the process—to become nothing more than a power hungry tyrant. Yes, perhaps she wouldn’t be remembered as well as Spain or England in the end for her efforts, but she also never wanted to be remembered for the wrong reasons. And so, she was always faithful with her steadfast alliance with England. And with each reaffirmation of their relations and political visits, Ana soon felt a bit something more than a political friendship... Her heart began to beat a little faster in Arthur’s presence and she couldn’t help but notice all the small things about him, even the silly details of his preferences with everyday living. She noticed him and to her discomfort, she found that she eventually came to want him. She wanted his company… and she liked having his eyes focused only on her. It was a small thrill and there was a warm contentment to her smile whenever she got the chance to spend time with him, even if the reasons were political. It didn’t matter. As long as she got that chance. A part of her; however, ached whenever she saw how wild he’d become as a teenaged nation. He was merciless with Spain and hearing whispers of his ambition throughout their conversations oftentimes darkened her mood. It’s not as if she’s currently on friendly terms with Spain… but Antonio still felt like her brother to her on many levels and it felt strange to hear England talk that way about him. Despite all that, England did prove his loyalty to her. He fought for her… and that had to mean a lot, right? And yet, why did a part of her still feel that nagging desperation? Like he would eventually turn on her. See her only as a useless, disposable ally… In spite of her thoughts, she tried to appear casual, tried to smile with ease… A blush warmed Ana’s cheeks when she heard Arthur’s reply… and she took another, deep sip of wine to hide her reaction. Why did he have to sound so damn appealing whenever they had these sorts of conversations? Her throat tightened as she formed her own quick response, ”We've had quite a few of those, havne't we?” The corners of her mouth lifted, her stare connecting with his. Her smile took a cynical turn when his expression turned smug, muttering how appropriate it was that she drew up Queens as the trump. Her thoughts, like Arthurs, had briefly wandered over towards the girl down below who was about to be traded into England’s royal court. When she noticed Arthur watching her, she flashed him a small, tight frown. That should get the message across… ”Don’t tease me. I don’t like it." She muttered irritably, staring hard at him before looking at her hand. She knew better. She knew what that neutral, testing expression of his meant… and she hated it whenever he tried to play these sorts of games with her. Ana kept her glare on her cards, hoping that Arthur would take the hint. [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

Truthfully, Arthur did hold a substantial amount of respect for Ana for the way that she restrained herself in the world; however, he also felt that she wouldn’t get as far as others who did whatever they could to reach that height of power. Then again, it really depends on their personal motives as well. Ana simply didn’t seem to want the same things that Arthur wanted. Regardless, she was still a respectable Empire... and a part of him was strongly attached to her within their alliance. An alliance that was more like a personal bond compared to the other alliances he frequently dabbled in these days. Unlike others, England never regretted tying himself to her... or even giving himself to her like he had with so many others.

Arthur would be lying if he said that he felt nothing for Ana beyond their political and economic dalliances. The Englishman certainly feelings for her… but they were complicated. He refused to even attempt to understand them and part of Arthur was wary of developing anything stronger than affection for Ana, because things simply didn’t work that way for nations… and for bloody good reason… Alliances and allegiances can shift within the span of even a few days. And this century, that seemed to be a regular occurrence with the Europeans in particular. Still, there were times Arthur craved Ana—her presence, her conversation, and her warmth. At the same time, he never wanted to be too comfortable with her. In his mind, it was never good to let anyone get too close… Even with Ana, he was overly cautious with forming a complicated attachment.

Arthur noticed the slight unease that Ana seemed to carry around him. He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it, though... Was she worried that he would abandon her? Or perhaps there was more? Whatever it was, Arthur didn’t exactly like it whenever Ana felt the need to be worried around him. Neither of those reasons were beneficial to their partnership.

England felt a little warmth of his own when Ana stared at him in that manner... like she wanted him. A part of him was a little smug with it, but there was also the heat of mutual interest being reflected back. He smirked. ”And we shall have a few more… preferably tonight if it pleases you.” He was bold for saying that… but he felt like he could be bold around Ana. She was certainly no stranger to him speaking that way with her.

Oh yes. He got the message. And he was going to take it a little further. ”Gospel says the truth will set you free.” His lips curved with amusement and his gaze darkened. ”We know each other well enough to not hide behind petty intrigue. Feel free say and do whatever you’d like with me, poppet…” He set down his own cards, watching her and waiting to see how she’d react. Of course, he expected something from Ana after provocation. She may hate him at times for playing these games with her, but he never tired of them… so he wouldn’t stop. He’d drag her along for the ride if he had to… eventually; he believed that she came to enjoy them as much as he. In more ways than one.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES c;

TEMPLATE BY WE WERE INFINITE ! OF CAUTION 2.0

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid;] [style=border-bottom: 1px #bdbdbd solid; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 25px; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; width: 245px; float: right;]13 May, 1662 Likewise, Ana never felt regret for forming this alliance with Arthur. Sure, there was a bit of uncertainty in the beginning… He was young and she was the more powerful end of the alliance at the time that they had made it, but their roles eventually reversed and Ana found herself depending on him to get her out of a few tense situations. She still hadn’t decided how reliable he would be after the war that she’d had with Antonio. Especially considering Spain and England’s history together… Ana used to view their relationship as Arthur currently was viewing it: a possibly dangerous attachment. Something that should be avoided and dealt with discreetly. She was too old for this nonsense. Everyone advised her against forming feelings for him, but how the hell do you stop falling in love with someone? It’s not as if she’d had a choice. However, she probably could have avoided him more often than she did. Avoided sleeping with him. Or even avoided falling into the trap of seeing their relationship as something beyond a political and business partnership. And true to form whenever she was with him, Ana gave him a flushed grin in return. Her skin felt like it was on fire. ”Perhaps it would,” her voice lowered into a tone that she only ever took with him. Unlike most of the world, Ana has had only a small handful of lovers in her time. Even at her age, Ana held a greater respect for herself and was choosey with her partners. ”A few? That’s ambitious.” Ana continued teasing him in that sultry tone of hers. She lowered her shawl from about her shoulders, allowing it to drape across the back of her chair. ”And now you’re being blasphemous.” Ana couldn’t help the amused grin from spreading across her expression as his alluding to scripture. ”A lady shouldn’t have to hear that,” she mock chastised him as she got up from her chair, moving slowly around the table until she was next to him, her back against the table and her fingers running down Arthur’s coat while he was still in his seat. Her mouth felt dry at his next words and there was a certain want in her gaze as she glanced at him, her heart quickening. ”I want you—“ she stopped mid-sentence, allowing her words to hang in the air as her fingers moved up along his shoulder and across his collar, undoing the first few buttons. Her thumb grazed warmly against the exposed skin. ”It’s been so long…” she whispered, her hand running down his chest until her fingertips met the outline of his belt. And just like that, Ana was trapped in that little game of his. It was a little different each and every time they did this... but the end results were always the same. [/style]

Made by AMB Tanz

THE POISONED VINE BREEDS A FINER WINE

Arthur was amused by Ana’s reactions, he liked the way that her cheeks reddened whenever he complimented her or insinuated something a little darker. He didn’t like to admit that there were any sort of feelings between them, but it was getting more difficult to easily dismiss the more they did this. Yes, it was reckless, but Arthur reveled in recklessness. He liked getting drunk, he liked spilling Spanish blood overseas, and he liked living like he had very little to lose. A very small part of him felt like he might grow tired of Ana. A fleeting fancy, though she had held his attention longer than most, he would give her that. But his heart was not soft—unpliable and darkened. He wouldn’t shy away from cutting her off, because he could be cold and meticulous when he needed to be. Perhaps, then, her worries were founded. Ana knew him better than most, after all.

Very light shivers tickled his spine at Portugal’s tone. That usually never failed. She was more often than not a pleasing partner in their alliance. No wonder Spain fought so hard to keep her. More reason to take her away from the stupid bastard. And unlike Arthur, Ana held a sort of respect for herself. Surely Arthur was prideful, but that was far from self-respect. Where she had self-restraint, Arthur ran wild. He slept around without care. He drank until his memory failed him. And he conquered until his conscience was stained beyond recognition. He believed that he was as egotistical and black as the rest of the world, particularly those who impressed themselves upon him. They got what they wanted.

”I prefer to call it an educated expectation,” he teased her, lips twisting into a smile. Eyes traveled across Ana’s shoulders as they were revealed. A laugh escaped the Empire when Ana light heartedly called him blasphemous. He cocked an eyebrow, the amusement still bright in his eyes. ”Am I, love? I’ve been called far worse, but I appreciate the sentiment.” When Portugal got up from her seat, England watched her lazily as she came closer. He leaned back into his seat, watching her with little expression, though his gaze softened when she touched him, running her fingers along his coat. Warmth spread slowly when he heard her next words—she wanted him. His lips pressed together tightly as she undid the first few buttons. It all felt so slow, achingly so. He was usually far more partial to having things rough and quick. And it was still how he preferred his partners.

His skin prickled beneath the smallest graze and his body grew taut when her fingers reached his belt. Slowly, Arthur’s fingers met hers, thumbs brushing the sides of her hands until he removed them. If Arthur was anything before anything else, he desired control above all. This was no different. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he pressed his lips against the back of her wrist—dry and somewhat chapped from being out at sea for too long before stopping at Lisbon. ”It has been far too long,” he agreed, voice lowered. More so for him. That same possessive burn flared through him every time he thought of her and Antonio. No matter, really… she was his once more.

Releasing her wrist, his hand briefly skimmed along the side of Ana’s thigh before standing from where he was seated. ”And how shall we pass the time?” He stood close, his hand retreating from her leg and brushed along the side of her face. His breath probably smelled like wine with how much he’d already consumed, drawing nearer until their noses barely touched. A brief pause passed before he pressed his mouth against hers, longing to taste her before long... but for once, he was going to wait for a response. With ragged breath, his mouth retreated, only slipping down to her chin, softly pressing against her skin.

WORDS ### TAGGED Portugal NOTES c;

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