Festina Lente

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Mother and Daughter

30th of December 1534 - Royal Palace of Tordesillas

Clasping her hands in prayer, Eleanor of Austria stared up at the statue of the Virgin Mary as she considered the palace that was now her prison at her own brother's bidding. 

It had been easy enough to avoid the other occupant that was housed here, her mother kept to her rooms mostly and Eleanor was thankful that she had not seen her since she had arrived. 

There was little for her to do to fill her days trapped here, she had a few ladies that attended to her but they would not help her send any letters and Eleanor feared that she might never see outside of these walls again. 

Her mind drifted back to the day that she had been told that she would marry King Manuel by her brother, she had been looking out over the Palace gardens when he had approached her with the news. 

Eleanor recalled how angry she had been when Charles had told her the fate that he had decided for her, telling her that it was for the betterment of the Kingdom and because they were destined to perpetuate their lineage. 

It had been bad enough that he had betrayed Ferdinand and Catherine in his doings, Eleanor had never considered that he would do the same to her. 

She had argued against his plans, refused to go to Portugal before he had snapped that he ordered it as her King; there was something about him when he had spoken those words that had chilled her to her very bones. 

Telling Charles that she had hated him and he had no heart because of his decision to marry her off to the elderly Manuel seemed silly compared to what he had done to her since then and how she suffered now. 

The view from her chambers paled in comparison to the chambers that she had held as the Queen of Portugal and even her chambers when Queen of France had been beautiful. 

Eleanor had to wonder how her mother had managed the last thirty years of her life in this place, it was dull and despite being called a Palace by some it was nothing more than a convent. 

It was not a place fit for the royals that it now held and Eleanor wished she could do something to make it more fitting; afterall, her mother was a Queen in her own right while she had been a Queen Consort twice. 

A soft laugh startled Eleanor from her thoughts and her prayers, she whirled around to confront the source only to find her face to face with the very woman she had been avoiding.

"Hija, I had no idea that you had come so devoted," Joanna of Castile mused stepping further into the chapel where her daughter was taking refuge, her eyes glancing at the small entourage that had been allowed to serve Eleanor here. 

It was very much like her own, though she was sure that Eleanor's ladies had been chosen for their loyalty to Charles rather than their use in a place such as this. 

"Madre," Eleanor greeted softly, she offered a quick curtsy before righting herself and staring at the woman that had birthed her; she had never really earned the title of mother in her mind especially after her father had died. 

She had extraordinarily little memory of her father, she had been seven when he had passed but she did remember how devastated her mother had been when he had died. 

Her actions had left their mark on them all and Eleanor could not forgive her for abandoning her when she had needed her mother; she had only cared for her husband and not the children that had been left without both their parents when he died. 

As the eldest child, it had been Eleanor that had been forced to look out for her younger siblings when their mother had broken down after Philip's death and refused to allow his body to be buried.