"A message for you, sir."

Never before had those words from Thomas been so hated. Even minutes later, after Westley had already read the letter, he still felt the anger rippling through his veins. As he had already been prepared to retire, he threw on his brown outfit with a furious amount of haste, not even bothering to look at his hair in the looking glass. Instead he snatched the letter from atop his desk again and read in once more. There was his name, yes, so it hadn't been a mistake. There was the message, that accursed message. And the name. Catalina. Already it filled him with hatred. Honestly, the audacity of these Emerald women, coming up with such foul lies just to garner the attention of Sapphire lords!

"My Lord, perhaps you should calm yo-"

"I AM CALM, Thomas!" Westley bellowed at the manservant, his eyes ablaze with fury as he crumpled the edge of the letter with a swift curl of his hand into a fist. He looked at the older man, who had been with him since infancy, and seethed as if it was somehow his fault. "How did you get this letter, Thomas?" He had asked the question at least a thousand times already, but he refused to be satisfied with the answer.

The man looked at him with those same grey eyes that he held, not looking alarmed at His Lord's temper in the slightest. After all, he had been on the receiving end of it many times before. "I received it from Lady Catalina's maid, My Lord." he replied as calmly as he had the many times Westley had asked before.

No. This was unacceptable. It had to be a lie. Westley clenched his jaw harder, slamming his fist down on the desk with a shout of anger. This was the most horrible time to mess with him, especially with thoughts of that little Emerald courtesan swimming in his mind. Now that he had received this message, he was certain that these woman were from the Devil himself. "I will go to her. And I will straighten this out. And, if it be up to me, I will have her shipped back to the Emerald Realm by the morning!" His words had begun at a calm volume, but had escalated to a furied shout at the end. He lifted his hand, clenching and unclenching it several times to will the pain that was shaking through it away, before glaring at Thomas again. "I will return."

With that said, he stormed out of his chambers and headed straight towards the chamber of this insipid little Lady Catalina. As soon as he was there, he pounded on the door with his fist, the letter still clenched in his hand. It was answered by an Emerald maid, who he glared at, before shoving past her. "Where is your lady? I must speak with her, posthaste." He stormed into the room, his eyes wild with anger.

She sat alone, while she heard Francisca finish the day before herself heading to bed. She rubbed her temples, a large baritone voice suddenly echoed in Catalina's outer chamber. Shaking her head furiously, due to the numerous thoughts running through her head; and she rose taking a goblet of wine to the commotion outside her privy chambers. Francisca, the meek and quiet maid, tried to prevent the angry man from entering, cursing him in crazed Emerald curses. Her dark eyes glanced over him calmly. "I warn you My Lord, please do not harm my maid; for I assure you will not like the consequences."

Her dark emerald gown rustled around her as she walked over to the door, and giving a quick glance to Francisca who left immediately. "May I help you My Lord? For I was just about to retire to bed." She gave a small smile, taking a sip of the liquid relaxer. "But by all means, My Lord." She stated coldly. "Join me. For if you are Lord Westley, I fear we must be in for quite a discussion." Her voice was calm and collected as she guided him to a group of chairs. She was furious inside, her mother and grandmother had arranged this marriage. And she would do anything to refuse it, though she knew no thing could ever happen.

Westley, who had been staring at the babbling Emerald maid for only the space of a few seconds before another woman exited her chambers, turned his head with a snap to look at her. She was lovely, of course, as Westley had always had a fondness for Emerald women, but this was shoved into the back of his mind as he opened his mouth to speak at give this woman a piece of his mind. Her first words, however, stilled him. Hurt her maid? He was not such a horrid man. He would never hurt another woman unless it could not be avoided, and even then it would have to be extremely impossible circumstances. He crossed his arms over his chest again, the letter being crushed even more beneath his bicep, and he glared at the woman with all of the ferocity that he could muster. Indeed, it was a lot. Many a woman had crumbled under that gaze of his in the past years. Only a strong woman, he knew, would not completely fold under it.

"Indeed, we do, my lady," he nearly hissed, putting a sarcastic stress on the last word of his sentence. "We need to discuss what an utter pile of lies this is!" He stormed over to the chairs, uncrossing his arms and hurling the letter into the seat of one of the chairs. Of course, the effect was ruined quite a bit, as the paper merely drifted back and forth through the air before settling on the cushion. Regardless, it was still incredibly obvious, even to a blind soul, that he was just barely containing himself at the moment. "No one could set you up into this without my acceptance. I demand you apologize this instance before I reveal you for the liar you are and send you back to that infernal country you come from."

He looked at the woman again, Lady Catalina if the letter was to be trusted, and narrowed his eyes to simple slits. "...You have messed with the wrong lord on the wrong day, my dear Emeraldwoman. You have messed up."

She tried to civil. She tried to be reasonable. But as soon as he hissed at her, stomping across the room; only the worse came out of her. “Do not threaten me, Sir.” Her dark hair grew wild as she pushed the chair back with a unknown amount of force. She stood face to face with him, his own cold eyes matching his. “I assure you that this writing is not false, for I have only received this news this very day.” She walked calmly to a desk where she had written the letter to Lord Westley, and where laid the tear stained letter in her Grandmother’s writing.

“My darling Catalina.” She read the letter aloud, eyeing Westley. “It is to my knowledge, and after a long and considerable talk with your mother, Lady Diega de Narvarro and Lady Maria Ryland,” Her eyes met Westley shortly, then resumed to her letter. “To give you to her son, Lord Westley Ryland; who in fact is a member of the Sapphire Court. I give you all the best, my darling, for I love you dearly and hope for only the best for you and your betrothed. Tu Abuela, Lady Ramona Sanchez.” A small smirk appeared on Catalina’s sun kissed face. “Do I lie now Sir?” Glaring spitefully, Catalina handed the letter gracefully to Westley.

She sat comfortably on the chair once more. “You are lucky though. For the love of Lady Ramona Sanchez does come easily.” Taking a long draught of her wine, she sighed. She brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face.

As soon as she rebuked him and rose to her feet, standing toe-to-toe with him, he felt his anger lessen slightly. Only slightly. Instead, what lessened was replaced with a tiny amount of amusement. After all, here she was, with the top of her head coming up to around the top of his chest, and she was the one giving the orders. He arched an eyebrow down at her, his eyes glimmering for only a moment with that amusement that seemed to constantly sweep through his veins, before she turned and moved to her desk. As she did so, he moved behind a chair and lightly leaned his strong torso against it, watching every move she made in suspicion of some sort of foul play. After all, if there was anything that a lord learned in his young days, it was to constantly be on his toes. He draped his arms lightly over the top of the chair as she began to read, trying to imagine his mother committing such an act. ...No, Mother would never do such a thing. Never. And yet, the evidence was there.

Then again, what if that letter itself was a forgery? Throwing manners and propriety out the window, as there was no going back now, Westley moved around the chair towards Lady Catalina. He grabbed the letter in the chair as he did so, but she seemed to be on the same track as him, as she handed him the letter she had just read before he could take more than three steps towards her. At her smirk and cold words, he afforded her a rare sneer before looking down at both of the letters and studiously comparing the handwriting. The two seemed different enough, indeed. However, such a thing still did not guarantee anything. His dark eyes flicked back up to the woman, who was currently gulping down her wine. Delightful. If I am to be saddled with such a woman as this, 'tis not enough for her to be a subordinate harpy. No, she is a drunkard as well. Fate was cruel to Lord Westley Ryland, that was for certain.

He took slow steps towards her chair, steps designed to intimidate her slightly, and tilted his head with his messy hair ever so slightly to the side. "Yes, I do believe that you lie, my lady." The words were spiteful, not quite as angry as before but still as annoyed. "If this is true, then why have I not received such a letter from my mother? Maria Ryland does not lie and would certainly not hold information back from her darling son." He paused beside her chair, having collected both letters in one hand now, and lifted his free hand to rest on the back of her chair. He leaned down closer to her, narrowing his eyes slightly again. "This proves nothing, Lady Catalina."