& @felipaed
Other than tales set forth from Alice Seymour's lips regarding the late Catherine of Aragon, the Spanish were somewhat of a mystery to Bridget. Catherine herself had died the year Bridget was born, and her daughter Mary had sailed two Spain two years later; her return after so much time naturally garnered a great deal of attention, and though Bridget had no political interests of her own where the Spanish were concerned, her aunts valued any information she could garner.
From what Bridget could tell during their first days at Dover, many of the Spanish seemed utterly boring. Queen Mary was notoriously pious (rumor had it she spent most of her time on her knees in the chapel, which was not something Bridget could claim to have in common with the eldest Tudor) and much of her court followed suit; how unfortunate, since the Spanish palaces were known to be the most glorious in Europe, dripping with the most lavish of decorations. It was a wonder, then, that the queen's children were known to be quite unlike their mother in all way, doing as they pleased with whom they pleased, as might become the lives of young royals.
It was the prince whom Bridget had the pleasure of discovering first, in the midst of courtiers moving from one group of conversation to another. The first thought that struck her as she found herself before him was that he was even more handsome than rumor suggested; his skin shone with the glistening kiss of the strong Spanish sun, his dark eyes twinkled with mirth that echoed those of his Tudor counterparts when a jovial mood struck them. She managed to tear her eyes away from his face to dip into a respectful curtsy, raising her gaze again as she rose. "Your Highness, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope your journey was pleasant."
