Isabella Cotilla del Reyes of Evalusia
"Of course I'm a threat. Why? Did you think for a moment that I wasn't?" -Emma Frost, from Marvel's X-men
โโโโโโโโโโ Isabella Cotilla del Reyes; only her sister is allowed to call her "Ella", her childhood nickname
๐๐ฃ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ต๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโ Princess of Evalusia
๐๐๐ฐ๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโ 24
๐๐๐ฎ๐ท๐ญ๐ฎ๐ป
โโโโโโโโโโ Female
๐๐ข๐ฎ๐๐พ๐ช๐ต๐ฒ๐ฝ๐
โโโโโโโโโโ Heterosexual (though she's never really cared much for "love")
๐๐๐น๐น๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐ช๐ท๐ฌ๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโ Isabella has brown hair so dark that it's almost black. It is thick and wavy and falls to somewhere around halfway down her back, and she prefers to either arrange her hair in elaborate formations, adorned with jewels and ornate hairpins, or let it hang loose and free. Her eyes are a dark brown color, and most people who have met her say that there's something undeniably alluring yet utterly terrifying about those eyes. There's a sharp, piercing edge to them that hasn't gone away ever since her father deemed her old enough to be essentially married off to the highest bidder, tempered by a haughty aloofness a cold nonchalance.
Isabella has high cheekbones and a delicately curved jawline-her face practically screams "snooty princess". She is rather tall, and she is definitely on the slender side. In fact, there is nothing "womanly" at all about her figure-she is all sharp edges and long, lean lines and angular limbs. There is no softness to her whatsoever, be it in her eyes or her fingers or simply the way that she holds herself.
Isabella favors gowns that are elegant but simple, and although she has a reputation for always wearing pristine shades of white, Isabella definitely doesn't have anything against black or blue, either. Most of the time, she dresses rather severely and/or conservatively (thanks to the dumb expectations of Evalusian society under her father's rule), but for special occasions, she will don a string of diamonds or two. In terms of make-up, Isabella keeps it light and simple-some foundation and concealer for the dark circles under her eyes, some mascara for her eyelashes and lipstick for her lips, and that's about it.
๐๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ผ๐ธ๐ท๐ช๐ต๐ฒ๐ฝ๐
โโโโโโโโโโ Isabella is very practical and has both feet planted firmly on the ground. She is capable of saying exactly what she means without saying anything at all, as well as flattering and insulting someone in the same breath. Isabella is more than willing to bandy words about all day long, and she is extremely perceptive when it comes to what others are thinking or feeling. She knows that many of the Evalusian nobles fear her-and the ones who are not afraid of her will learn to fear her, or they will die.
Isabella is observant and analytical; calm and collected under even the most trying of circumstances. She is logical and rational and constantly aware of her surroundings (she misses nothing), and her sly, shrewd intelligence allows her to pick up even the slightest of cues. Isabella is more โterrifyingโ than โcharmingโ, but she is able to be charismatic, albeit in a vaguely terrifying sort of way. She is meticulous and thorough in everything she does (whether itโs plotting an assassination or planning a ball), and she knows the ins and outs of court etiquette like the back of her hand. She tends to think things through before she acts, and rarely lets her temper get the best of her-though when she is well and truly angry, Isabella is completely blinded by her emotions.
If information is the game, then Isabella is a merchant of great renown. Capable of lying, manipulating, seducing, or blackmailing her way to someone's secrets, Isabella will have what she wants out of someone before they even realize she has her sights set on them. She is very haughty and aloof (and can be shortsightedly disparaging), and she has an inability to trust others that could very much cost her her life one day. Isabella holds a rather cynical and bitter view of the world (she doesn't believe in true love, for example), and she has a tendency to be very judgmental of others. At first, she burned with a need for vengeance against her father for what he did to her sister, but now that it's been years since the "incident", years since Elena disappeared off the face of the earth, Isabella finds that she just doesnโt know a life without this rage that lives inside her, this anger that has made her cruel. She believes that people are not inherently good nor evil, but that it is easier to be evil in difficult situations, so people tend to be selfish and greedy-Isabella herself included.
Ruthless and amoral, Isabella can be extremely cold and callously blunt (which has earned her the label of "ice queen" on social media), especially if she does not view somebody as "important". Isabella holds no qualms about lying, cheating, stealing, blackmailing, et cetera to get what she wants, so long as she does indeed achieve her original goal.
But on the inside, past the years of rage and regret, Isabella is a mess of sorrow and fury and ambition that have combined to create the woman that she is now. Isabella is almost obsessively power-hungry, chasing after a foreign throne to get her the hell out of Evalusia, to get her away from the memories that linger in the bedchambers and corridors of the stone castle in the mountains, to get away from her father-all in the hopes that it will help fill the hole left inside her after what her father did to her sister, after Elena went missing; the hole that still persists, despite all the time that has passed, despite all the bloodshed and destruction and glory that was left in its wake.
(She knows that it won't).
๐๐๐ฒ๐ด๐ฎ๐ผ + ๐๐ฒ๐ผ๐ต๐ฒ๐ด๐ฎ๐ผ
โโโโโโโโโโ ๐๐ฒ๐ด๐ฎ๐ผ: pearls, diamonds, and other precious jewels, gowns of silk and satin, intricate lacework, the colors white and silver (they go wonderfully with her complexion), snow, ice, the cold, elegant, expensive gowns that show off Isabella's impeccable taste, her set of small, thin stiletto daggers with intricately carved hilts studded with freshwater pearls, diamonds, and milky white crystals that can be disguised as ornate hairpins, power, independence, being respected for what she is truly capable of (or being viewed as just another pretty face, depending on the situation), white roses, her family and those loyal to her family (excluding those loyal her father, of course), the smell of the winter air, cloudy days, fresh blueberries, swans, being in charge/in control, when people scurry to obey her orders, being feared (or so she tells herself, anyway), telling people what to do/ordering others around, vengeance against those who have wronged her in the past in any way (Isabella's quite petty), a good poisoning or a perfectly executed murder, subtlety (when it is needed), knowing everyone's secrets
๐๐ฒ๐ผ๐ต๐ฒ๐ด๐ฎ๐ผ: her father, incompetence, when something/someone unnecessarily ruins her hair or clothing, silly stories about true love and chivalry, relying on others, men who are only powerful because they're men, being sweaty, messy hair, dirty clothing, crude manners, her father, being underestimated because she's a woman by people she actually trusts (who are few and far in between), sloppiness and messiness in general, drunkards, useless and meaningless violence and destruction (could you get any more rude???), physical altercations (they're just so messy), large dogs (they slobber too much), her father, ale, swan meat, sweltering summer days, being a pawn in her father's infernal game of politics, feeling powerless or helpless, being forced to marry people for stupid reasons (like, if she's going to be forced to marry someone in the first place, it better be for a damn good reason), being viewed as "property" just because she's a girl, gender roles and stereotypes, the smell of smoke, the color orange, oh, and did we mention her father?
๐๐๐ฒ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ป๐ช๐น๐ฑ๐
โโโโโโโโโโ Isabella Cotilla del Reyes, the Ice Princess-
Her father's favorite; his pride and joy.
Polite. Pristine. Perfect.
Charming and beautiful, sweet and soft-spoken. Dainty and demure, graceful and svelte.
Not anymore, though. The only person that she will ever defer to anymore is her father, and even then, only outwardly...and with great reluctance.
Isabella was given the upbringing expected of a royal of her station, and then plus some. Her father turned away from her older sister, Elena-poor, poor Elena, who had been forsaken by the universe and born mute, unable to make any sound beyond soft grunts, which did not reflect well on the del Reyes, at all, because why would God "forsake" them in that way and grant King Gabriel a mute daughter?
So King Gabriel confined Elena to her room, and he made sure that Isabella grew up with everything that she could ever want. Pretty dresses, expensive jewelry, all the love and praise and adoration that every child seeks from their parents; Isabella had it all, so long as she obeyed. And dear God, how she hated it.
She obeyed her father despite it all, of course. He didn't love her, and she didn't love him, but in that day and age, her father's control was complete. Absolute. And if Isabella ever wanted to leave the palace again, she knew that she couldn't be seen openly disrespecting her father. So she did as her power-hungry father said...or pretended to, anyway.
Isabella embroidered, like a proper young lady, and her stitches were so neat and straight and tiny that they're almost invisible. She danced beautifully and had a voice that would break your heart. She could recite every noble family's genealogy by heart, and her paintings of vapid landscapes were nothing if not exquisite. But most of all, she was silent. A pretty decoration to her father's reign, and nothing more.
Some girls could have been content, dancing and sewing all day and then being married off to some noble or the other. Isabella could not. She watched, enviously, as her brother-the crown prince of Evalusia-was taught how to rule a kingdom. She watched as her father continued his tyrannical reign, watched as he ran the Evalusian economy to the ground with his ill-advised policies and insanely restrictive laws.
No matter, though. Isabella's going to be more powerful than anyone in her family someday.
Isabella made sure that everything she did was absolutely perfect, because her father expected no less from her. Perfect manners. Perfect smile. Perfect gown. Perfect everything. And before Elena disappeared, Isabella made sure to maintain her image as a perfect, pristine lady. One day, her father would die. And after that, Isabella would be free to do as she wanted; travel the world, maybe. Go see art exhibits and fashion shows in person. She dreamed of divorcing whichever man she was married to and running off to Britannia or Aciras or Castilya to see everything that the world had to offer, beyond the slopes of her snowy home.
But for all her dreams of grandeur and adventure, Isabella is merely a pawn in her father's plan to stay on the throne. King Gabriel Cotilla del Reyes I seized the throne thirty-some years ago, claiming descent from the Castilyan princes that used to rule Evalusia, back when it was still a colony. And ever since Isabella was officially considered fit to be wedded and bedded by some lord or the other, her father has been looking for a suitable husband. One suitor after another came and went, and Isabella was paraded before them like a horse at an auction, albeit a very valuable horse. Her brother was the heir to the Evalusian throne, while Isabella was to be sold to some stranger like the aforementioned horse, to be ridden whenever her new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly. Her brother's future was glory and wealth and power, while Isabella's was childbirth and passive obedience. And she loathed it; despised it, with every fiber of her being.
Lord Gabriel was always finding someone for Isabella to marry. There were so many men, Isabella can't even remember half of them. She always found some obscure fault in them, of course, and explained to her father why they would be bad husbands-this lord is as dumb as a brick. That lord can't even control the commoners living on his land, this lord has a history of legitimizing his bastards, that lord would turn on the royal family in a heartbeat.
For a time, Isabella could tolerate this. For a time, she did not...mind.
But one day, she discovered her father in her sister's bedroom, and something inside her snapped.
Although Princess Elena was frequently confined to her rooms, her condition being a "disgrace" to the royal family, Isabella and her sister grew up together. They took their sewing and dancing and painting lessons together; they took their meals together, when their father did not require Isabella's presence, and they slept in the same bed for the first few years of Isabella's life, with Elena dosing off to the fantastical stories that Isabella would tell her of knights in shining armor and damsels in distress.
As they grew older, Isabella could sense the wistful envy in Elena. Isabella knew that her sister was jealous of all the attention that Isabella got; knew that her sister had once wished to be the favorite daughter, the one that everybody adored. They grew distant, after a while, and Isabella stopped taking her afternoon tea with Elena. She stopped visiting her at night and reading with her until the wee hours of the morning; stopped spending time with poor mute Elena, who was destined to die alone in the tower that their father shut her in.
But one night, some part of Isabella ached, inexplicably, for her sister's calming presence. And so she slipped through the corridors in her nightgown, tried the knob to her sister's door-locked, as usual-and used one of her hairpins to pick the lock, like she had done countless times as a child. But when she went inside, her father was there with Elena behind the curtains of the four-poster bed, and Isabella screamed.
Isabella had to give her father credit-he covered up the incident very well. Isabella remembers how he coolly instructed the servants to go back to bed, how he strode brusquely out the door with not one word to either of his daughters. And she remembers Elena, who had just barely turned twenty at the time-she remembers how her sister refused to look at her, how she refused to answer any of her questions.
And a few days later, Elena disappeared.
It was a suicide, according to the servants. They found the shutters thrown wide open, and when Isabella looked down through the window, she saw nothing but swirling snow. They found no body, no trace of Elena, and Isabella would have been convinced that it was a suicide if not for the note she found tucked into her jewelry box, a week later.
Wait for me, it read, in her sister's elegant handwriting. And so she waited.
But it has been six years since the note. And although Isabella had her suspicions, although she had her theories, they have all been turned to dust. Once, she believed that her sister was still alive, somehow, waiting for the right moment to contact her. Once, she believed that she could be happy in Evalusia, if only because Elena would be with her.
Now, though, she's not so sure. And besides, her father has given her a new set of orders; she is to marry the prince of a foreign kingdom, one that is wealthy and powerful, so that her father can gain legitimacy in the eyes of the international community and enough military might to quash any revolutions in Evalusia before they even began.
And Isabella decided that she would obey, if only to leave Evalusia behind. If only to leave the stifling gender roles forced upon her by nobles who believed that the Bible had the answer to everything; if only to leave her father behind.
King Gabriel had his eyes on many kingdoms. When he heard that the princes of so many potential allies would be in Aciras, he immediately instructed Isabella to seduce one of them, to get one of them to accept a marriage proposal. And Isabella agreed to it.
So now she is to manipulate her way into the bed of a foreign prince at the behest of her father. And aye, she will do it-and then after the two of them are wed, she will expose her father's crimes to the world, and she will smile as he is put on trial for his crimes against humanity.
And the prince himself, whoever he may be? Please. Isabella will have him wrapped around her little finger when she's done with him. He's only a man, after all.
๐๐๐ + ๐๐ธ๐ต๐ธ๐ป ๐๐ธ๐ญ๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโ Face claim=Zhenya Katava, color code=skyblue
๐๐ฃ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ข๐ธ๐ท๐ฐ
โโโโโโโโโโ "You Should See Me in a Crown" - Billie EilishBite my tongue, bide my time
Wearing a warning sign
Wait 'til the world is mine
Visions I vandalize
Cold in my kingdom size
Fell for these ocean eyes
You should see me in a crown
I'm gonna run this nothing town
Watch me make 'em bow
One by one by, one
One by one by
You should see me in a crown
Your silence is my favorite sound
Watch me make 'em bow
One by one by, one
One by one by (one) ๐๐๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ป๐ธ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ฃ๐ธ
โโโโโโโโโโ TBD! If you think a betrothal between our characters would be fun, hit me up!
๐๐๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ป
โโโโโโโโโโ 
:origin()/pre03/9051/th/pre/i/2017/218/7/1/steampunk_town_square_by_grimdreamart-dbj1sjt.jpg)
๐ท๐ฌ๐ฎ ๐พ๐น๐ธ๐ท ๐ช ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ฎ...
