#alfonso iii

[liberty1776]

En la reconquista

722 Covadonga - Ferrer Dalmau

Según las crónicas de Alfonso III, Crónica de Albelda, datada en el año 881:

Alkama entró en Asturias con 187 00 hombres .​ Pelayo estaba con sus compañeros en el monte Auseva y que el ejército de Alkama llegó hasta él y alzó innumerables tiendas frente a la entrada de una cueva. El obispo Oppas subió a un montículo situado frente a la cueva y habló así a Pelayo: «Pelayo, Pelayo, ¿dónde estás?». El interpelado se asomó a una ventana y respondió: «Aquí estoy». El obispo dijo entonces: «Juzgo, hermano e hijo, que no se te oculta cómo hace poco se hallaba toda España unida bajo el gobierno de los godos y brillaba más que los otros países por su doctrina y ciencia, y que, sin embargo, reunido todo el ejército de los godos, no pudo sostener el ímpetu de los ismaelitas, ¿podrás tú defenderte en la cima de este monte? Me parece difícil. Escucha mi consejo: vuelve a tu acuerdo, gozarás de muchos bienes y disfrutarás de la amistad de los caldeos». Pelayo respondió entonces: «¿No leíste en las Sagradas Escrituras que la iglesia del Señor llegará a ser como el grano de la mostaza y de nuevo crecerá por la misericordia de Dios?». El obispo contestó: «Verdaderamente, así está escrito». [...] Tenemos por abogado cerca del Padre a Nuestro Señor Jesucristo, que puede librarnos de estos paganos [...]. Alqama mandó entonces comenzar el combate, y los soldados tomaron las armas. Se levantaron los fundíbulos, se prepararon las hondas, brillaron las espadas, se encresparon las lanzas e incesantemente se lanzaron saetas. Pero al punto se mostraron las magnificencias del Señor: las piedras que salían de los fundíbulos y llegaban a la casa de la Virgen Santa María, que estaba dentro de la cueva, se volvían contra los que las disparaban y mataban a los caldeos. Y como a Dios no le hacen falta lanzas, sino que da la palma de la victoria a quien quiere, los caldeos emprendieron la fuga...

[arty-e]

AU where all Alfonso’s kids lived and Dylan had brothers and a sister

[isadomna]

Berenguela and Blanche of Castile

Daughters of Alfonso VIII of Castile and Eleanor of England, Berenguela maintained strong connections with her sister Blanche, Queen of France. Their letters are in Latin. Latin was still, at the beginning of the 13th century, the language of writing, while French and Castilian became the languages ​​commonly spoken, even at court. Berenguela and Blanche were well-educated, competent and forceful like their formidable grandmother Eleanor of Aquitaine.

The two sisters will also lead a parallel existence, each exerting, in their own country, a comparable influence. Much like her younger sister Blanche in France, Berenguela presents an interesting case of co-rulership with her son in Castile. Furthermore, both have ties with warfare and played determinant roles in the success of military campaigns as well as access to – and maintenance of – the throne.

Berenguela and Blanche directed a great deal of their personal energy into assuring that all of their children were appropriately married. It was Blanche who suggested sending Joan of Ponthieu as a bride for her nephew Fernando after his first wife's death. Berenguela and Blanche became the mothers of fighting saints King Fernando III and King Louis IX.

In the Archives Nationales de France are nine letters written to King Louis VIII and his wife Blanche of Castile, during Louis’s brief reign from 1223 to 1226. These letters informed Louis VIII that Alfonso VIII of Castile had intended his throne to pass to a son of Louis and Blanche, if his own son Enrique died without heirs. Louis VIII should therefore immediately send his son to Castile, where his correspondents—the scions of several major Castilian noble houses—would take up arms to set him on the throne and overthrow the “foreigner” (alienus) who was in power. The most prominent of these Castilian magnates were Rodrigo Díaz de Cameros and Gonzalo Pérez de Molina. This conspiracy was an explicit attempt to dispose of the current Castilian monarchy and replace it with a new configuration of rulers. It was therefore a far more serious threat than either Rodrigo Díaz’s or Gonzalo Pérez’s earlier revolts had been. And it was aimed squarely at the legitimacy of the reigning monarchs.

The letters’ most perplexing feature is the suggestion that Blanche’s claim to the Castilian throne superseded Berenguela’s. Some historians have even taken this as evidence that Blanche was the elder sister, though that claim is patently false. Yet the plot to overthrow Fernando III was first of all an attempt to unseat Berenguela. It was through her that Fernando III claimed hereditary right and legitimate descent from Alfonso VIII. To say that Alfonso VIII had excluded Berenguela from the succession, and to describe Fernando as a “foreigner,” was to reject the Castilian identity that Berenguela had tried to reclaim during her ten years as a solitary queen in her father’s court, and that she had negotiated with varying success during her regency and the subsequent wars. It was to define her not as the daughter and sister of the latest kings of Castile, but as the cast-off wife of the king of León.

To be sure, Blanche and her sons were at least as French as Berenguela and Fernando III were Leonese. But the rebels were apparently willing to overlook this quibble; their appeal was directed as much to Louis VIII as to his queen. Besides, the threat of union with France was diminished by the fact that Blanche and Louis VIII had no fewer than five living sons at the time that they ruled France. The rebels never insisted that the son sent to them should be Louis VIII’s firstborn, and a younger brother’s accession in Castile considerably reduced the risk of union between the crowns. All five French princes were underage, but so much the better; the minorities of Alfonso VIII and Enrique I had proved how much power nobles could gain in a regency. Louis VIII was sufficiently intrigued by the rebels’ offer to have asked them for proof of their promised support. His wife, however, was likely to be less sympathetic. A combination of Blanche’s unwillingness to contribute to her older sister’s overthrow and Fernando III’s military successes after 1224 probably quashed the plot.

Sources:

JANNA BIANCHINI,THE QUEEN'S HAND: POWER AND AUTHORITY IN THE REIGN OF BERENGUELA OF CASTILE

Regine Pernoud, La Reine Blanche

[thequilandpaperwriter]

Leonor to Catherine of Aragon. House of Borbón to House of Trastámara.

[docpiplup]

The Bastard Kings and their families

This is series of posts are complementary to this historical parallels post from the JON SNOW FORTNIGHT EVENT, and it's purpouse to discover the lives of medieval bastard kings, and the following posts are meant to collect portraits of those kings and their close relatives.

In many cases it's difficult to find contemporary art of their period, so some of the portrayals are subsequent.

1) Ramiro I of Aragon (1006/7- 1063), son of Sancho III of Pamplona and Sancha de Aybar; with his son Sancho I of Aragon & V of Pamplona (1043-1094)

2) His wife, Ermesinda of Foix (1015 - 1049), mother of Sancho I of Aragon. Daughter of Bernard Roger de Foix and his wife Garsenda de Bigorra; and Sancha of Aragon (1045-1097), daughter of Ramiro I and Ermesinda

3) His father, Sancho III of Pamplona (992/96-1035), son of García II of Pamplona and Jimena Fernández

4) His brother, García III of Pamplona (1012-1054), son of Sancho III of Pamplona and his wife Muniadona of Castile

5) His nephew, Sancho IV of Pamplona (1039- 1076), son of García III of Pamplona and his wife Placencia of Normandy

6) His brother, Ferdinand I of Leon (1016- 1065), son of Sancho III of Pamplona and his wife Muniadona of Castile

7) His niece, Urraca of Zamora (1033-1101), daughter of Ferdinand I of Leon and Sancha of Leon

8) His niece, Elvira of Toro (1038-1099), daughter of Ferdinand I of Leon and Sancha of Leon

9) Sancho II of Castile (1038/1039-1072), son of Ferdinand I of Leon and Sancha of Leon

10) Alfonso VI of Leon (1040/1041-1109), son of Ferdinand I of Leon and Sancha of Leon

[fotograrte]

Santa Catalina disputando con un filósofo ante el tribunal del Emperador Majencio (Relieve, siglo XIII)

Se trata de un relieve fechado entre los años 1252 y 1286 (siglo XIII), realizado en mármol blanco, perteneciente a la colección Ars Casacuberta Marsans. Formó parte de la exposición temporal “Alfonso X, el legado de un rey precursor”, que tuvo lugar en el Museo de Santa Cruz, de Toledo, en 2022. Se cumplían los 800 años del nacimiento de este rey que nació el día 23 de noviembre de 1221,…

[cabiiefilms05]

last part

[maabagroup]

Kaytitinga III House for Sale in Alfonso Cavite

Property Code B032 Kaytitinga III Kaytitinga III, Alfonso, Cavite Lot Area 2,867 sqm Floor Area 272 sqm Php 23,000,000.00 As of June 2024

[mugenipl]

Wprowadzenie

W ciągu dziejów fryzury męskie władców często odzwierciedlały ich władzę i status społeczny. Od wyszukanych peruk po skomplikowane warkocze, fryzury europejskich monarchów w XIV do XIX wieku nie były wyjątkiem. Fryzury te nie tylko były symbolem ich władzy, ale także sposobem na okazanie swojego bogactwa i statusu społecznego. Niektóre z najbardziej charakterystycznych fryzur z tego okresu to proszkowe peruki francuskiego dworu, płynące włosy z ery romantyzmu i schludne fryzury z przedziałkiem z epoki wiktoriańskiej. Przyjrzyjmy się bliżej fascynującym i często ekscentrycznym fryzurami europejskich władców od XIV do XIX wieku.

Einfluss religii i kultury na fryzury męskie

Fryzury męskie w Europie w XIV wieku były zdominowane przez wpływy religijne i kulturowe. Włosy były często układane w proste, mocno przyklejone kaski. W XIV wieku popularne było noszenie długich włosów, które były opuszczane na plecy lub związane w kucyk. Jednakże, w XVI wieku, fryzury męskie zaczęły zmieniać się pod wpływem renesansu i wzorów z antyku. Włosy były układane w skomplikowane upięcia, często z warkoczami, i często ozdabiane perłami lub innymi ozdobami.

W XVII wieku fryzury męskie stały się jeszcze bardziej skomplikowane i wyszukane, a peruki stały się powszechne. W XVIII wieku peruki zaczęły być coraz bardziej popularne, szczególnie we Francji i Anglii. Włosy były często pudrowane, aby uzyskać biały kolor, a peruki były często ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami lub innymi ozdobami.

W XIX wieku fryzury męskie zaczęły się upraszczać, a peruki zaczęły wychodzić z mody. Mężczyźni zaczęli nosić włosy krótkie lub średniej długości, często z przedziałkiem pośrodku. Fryzury były schludne i proste, a włosy często były przyklejane do głowy przy pomocy specjalnych preparatów.

Fryzury renesansowe

Włosy w epoce renesansu były układane w skomplikowane upięcia, często z warkoczami i ozdobami. Fryzury były inspirowane wzorami z antyku, a mężczyźni zaczęli nosić długie, falujące włosy. Peruki stały się również popularne w epoce renesansu, szczególnie wśród władców i arystokracji.

Włosy były często pudrowane, aby uzyskać biały kolor, a peruki były ozdabiane kokardami, perłami i innymi ozdobami. Fryzury renesansowe były bardzo skomplikowane i wymagały wielu godzin pracy, aby je ułożyć.

Włosy były często układane w kaski lub warkocze, a mężczyźni nosili również peruki. W XVIII wieku peruki stały się coraz bardziej skomplikowane, a pudrowanie włosów stało się popularne.

Fryzury epoki baroku

Fryzury męskie w epoce baroku były bardzo skomplikowane i ozdobione perukami i kwiatami. Włosy były często pudrowane, aby uzyskać biały kolor, i układane w skomplikowane upięcia. Fryzury były często bardzo ciężkie i wymagały specjalnych drutów, aby utrzymać je na głowie.

Włosy były często układane w kaski lub warkocze, a mężczyźni nosili również peruki. W XVIII wieku peruki stały się coraz bardziej skomplikowane, a pudrowanie włosów stało się popularne.

W epoce baroku mężczyźni zaczęli nosić długie, falujące włosy, często związane w kucyk. Peruki stały się również popularne, szczególnie wśród władców i arystokracji. Włosy były pudrowane i często ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami i innymi ozdobami.

Fryzury epoki rokoka

Fryzury męskie w epoce rokoka były bardzo eleganckie i skomplikowane. Włosy były często pudrowane, aby uzyskać biały kolor, i układane w skomplikowane upięcia. Fryzury były ozdobione perłami, kwiatami i innymi ozdobami.

Włosy były często układane w kaski lub warkocze, a mężczyźni nosili również peruki. W XVIII wieku peruki stały się coraz bardziej skomplikowane, a pudrowanie włosów stało się popularne.

W epoce rokoka mężczyźni zaczęli nosić długie, falujące włosy, często związane w kucyk. Peruki stały się również popularne, szczególnie wśród władców i arystokracji. Włosy były pudrowane i często ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami i innymi ozdobami.

Fryzury neoklasyczne z końca XVIII wieku

W epoce neoklasycznej mężczyźni zaczęli nosić proste, schludne fryzury. Włosy były często przyklejane do głowy przy pomocy specjalnych preparatów, a przedziałek pośrodku był bardzo popularny. Peruki wychodziły z mody, a pudrowanie włosów stało się coraz rzadsze.

Fryzury męskie w epoce neoklasycznej były bardzo proste i schludne. Włosy były często przyklejane do głowy przy pomocy specjalnych preparatów, a przedziałek pośrodku był bardzo popularny.

W epoce neoklasycznej mężczyźni zaczęli nosić długie, falujące włosy, często związane w kucyk. Peruki stały się również popularne, szczególnie wśród władców i arystokracji. Włosy były pudrowane i często ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami i innymi ozdobami.

Fryzury romantyczne

W epoce romantycznej mężczyźni zaczęli nosić długie, falujące włosy. Fryzury były proste i naturalne, a peruki wychodziły z mody. Włosy były często przyciemniane, aby uzyskać bardziej naturalny kolor.

W epoce romantycznej mężczyźni zaczęli nosić długie, falujące włosy. Fryzury były proste i naturalne, a peruki wychodziły z mody. Włosy były często przyciemniane, aby uzyskać bardziej naturalny kolor.

Fryzury męskie w epoce romantycznej były bardzo proste i naturalne. Włosy były noszone długie i falujące, często związane w kucyk. Peruki wychodziły z mody, a warkocze były rzadziej używane.

Fryzury wiktoriańskie

W epoce wiktoriańskiej mężczyźni zaczęli nosić proste, schludne fryzury. Włosy były często przyklejane do głowy przy pomocy specjalnych preparatów, a przedziałek pośrodku był bardzo popularny. Fryzury były bardzo eleganckie i schludne, a peruki wychodziły z mody.

Włosy były często noszone krótkie lub średniej długości, a przedziałek pośrodku był bardzo popularny. Fryzury były bardzo schludne i proste, a włosy często były przyklejane do głowy przy pomocy specjalnych preparatów.

Wpływ polityczny i społeczny na fryzury męskie

Fryzury męskie w Europie w XIV do XIX wieku często były narzędziem politycznym i społecznym. Władców i arystokrację często zobowiązywano do noszenia określonych fryzur, aby okazać lojalność wobec króla lub rządu. Fryzury były również sposobem na okazanie swojego statusu społecznego i bogactwa.

W XVIII wieku peruki stały się bardzo popularne, szczególnie we Francji i Anglii. Włosy były często pudrowane, aby uzyskać biały kolor, a peruki były często ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami lub innymi ozdobami.

W XIX wieku fryzury męskie zaczęły się upraszczać, a peruki zaczęły wychodzić z mody. Mężczyźni zaczęli nosić włosy krótkie lub średniej długości, często z przedziałkiem pośrodku. Fryzury były schludne i proste, a włosy często były przyklejane do głowy przy pomocy specjalnych preparatów.

Dziedzictwo fryzur męskich z XIV do XIX wieku

Fryzury męskie z XIV do XIX wieku pozostawiły wiele śladów w dzisiejszej modzie i kulturze. Niektóre fryzury, takie jak przedziałek pośrodku i proste, schludne fryzury, są wciąż popularne, szczególnie wśród mężczyzn. Mężczyźni nadal noszą długie włosy i warkocze, a peruki są używane w teatrze i filmie.

Fryzury męskie z XIV do XIX wieku były często skomplikowane i wymagały wielu godzin pracy, aby je ułożyć. Włosy były pudrowane i często ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami i innymi ozdobami. Fryzury te były nie tylko symbolem władzy i statusu społecznego, ale także wyrazem sztuki i kultury.

Podsumowanie

Fryzury męskie europejskich władców z XIV do XIX wieku były nie tylko symbolem władzy i statusu społecznego, ale także wyrazem sztuki i kultury. Włosy były pudrowane, układane w skomplikowane upięcia, a peruki były ozdabiane kwiatami, kokardami i innymi ozdobami. Fryzury te pozostawiły wiele śladów w dzisiejszej modzie i kulturze, i nadal inspirują projektantów i artystów na całym świecie.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Happy Ever After

Anon: Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Song: Love Story by Indila

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not used to the story of Romeo and Juliet so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 8.6k

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aragonia, nestled between towering mountains and winding rivers, lay a land of unparalleled beauty and prosperity. The kingdom was a tapestry of lush, verdant landscapes, where rolling hills were adorned with wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.

Majestic castles, their spires reaching towards the heavens, stood as a testament to the kingdom's rich history and the ingenuity of its people.

The citizens of Aragonia were a proud and industrious lot, known far and wide for their skilled craftsmanship and unwavering commitment to their community.

From the bustling marketplaces in the heart of the capital city to the quaint, charming villages that dotted the countryside, the people of Aragonia lived in harmony, their days filled with the laughter of children and the rhythmic hum of daily life.

At the center of this enchanting kingdom stood the grand palace, a sprawling edifice of gleaming marble and intricate stonework.

Here, the wise and benevolent ruler of Aragonia presided, guiding the kingdom with a steady hand and a deep understanding of the needs of his people.

Under the watchful eye of the monarch, Aragonia flourished, its reputation for prosperity and innovation spreading far beyond its borders, drawing in visitors from near and far who marveled at the beauty and wonder of this truly remarkable land.

Princess Y/N, known for your grace and beauty, was the eldest daughter of King Alfonso VII. You had inherited your father's intelligence and compassion, making you a beloved figure within the kingdom.

Prince Carlos, on the other hand, was the youngest son of King Ferdinand III. Despite his noble status, he possessed a rebellious spirit that drew him closer to the commoners.

King Alfonso and King Ferdinand were embroiled in a bitter feud that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. The two monarchs harbored deep-seated animosity towards one another, stemming from long-standing political and personal disputes.

This toxic rivalry manifested in a climate of tension and distrust, with the two men constantly vying for power and influence. The tension between them spilled over into their respective families, creating a rift that only served to exacerbate the already precarious situation within the kingdom.

As the conflict escalated, the people of the land found themselves caught in the crossfire, uncertain of their future and the stability of the realm. . . .

"Princess Y/N, are you ready for the party?" your servant asked you as you stared out of your oval-shaped window, revealing the endless sea and the docks.

"Yes Matilda, I am ready," you muttered.

You were not. You hated going to these parties that your father organized. The grand halls filled with nobility, the endless chatter about alliances and politics, and the constant pressure to present yourself as the perfect princess made you feel suffocated.

You'd rather stay here and watch the sea forever, losing yourself in the gentle rhythm of the waves and the distant calls of the seabirds.

As you reluctantly turned away from the window, you couldn't help but sigh. The ocean had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could dream of freedom and adventure far from the palace walls.

But duty called, and you knew you had to uphold your role, no matter how much it pained you.

Adjusting your gown, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for the evening ahead, wishing that one day you might find a way to escape the gilded cage that held you.

Your father expected you to charm the guests, forge new alliances, and perhaps even catch the eye of a suitable suitor. He had always emphasized the importance of these gatherings for the kingdom's future, and he relied on you to play your part perfectly.

Despite your own desires, you knew that failing to meet his expectations could have serious repercussions for both you and the realm.

The thought of potential suitors filled you with a mixture of dread and resignation. You longed for a partner who understood your love for the sea and your yearning for freedom, rather than someone who only saw you as a pawn in their political games.

Yet, you knew that such a romantic ideal was unlikely in your world, where alliances were forged not by love but by necessity. . . .

"Carlos! Are you sure this isn't going to get us into big trouble?" Mercutio whispered as the three of them pushed through the overgrown garden of the Alfonso family.

Carlos grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Relax, Mercutio. I've done this a dozen times before. The Alfonsos are too busy celebrating to notice a few extra guests," he replied confidently, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

"Besides, we blend in perfectly. Just act like you belong, and no one will question a thing."

Benvolio, trailing behind them, chimed in, "He's right, Mercutio. Remember last summer when we crashed the mayor's gala? We even got compliments on our outfits!" He adjusted his mask and smoothed his clothes, trying to muster up some of Carlos' bravado.

"Let's just have fun tonight. What's the worst that could happen?"

The garden was a labyrinth of lavishly manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead that cast a magical glow on the scene. Stone statues of mythical creatures peeked out from behind dense shrubbery, and a grand marble fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling like liquid diamonds.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, adding an enchanting allure to the evening.

"Just blend in," Carlos finally whispered before slipping into the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Mercutio and Benvolio exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit, mingling seamlessly with the other revelers.

The sound of laughter and music enveloped them as they made their way toward the heart of the celebration, hoping their disguises would hold up under the scrutiny of the Alfonso family and their guests.

Carlos was dressed in an elegant black suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, his mask a matching black with delicate filigree that framed his eyes.

Mercutio wore a deep blue velvet coat with silver accents, his mask resembling a Venetian masterpiece with feathers that added a touch of mystique.

Benvolio, opting for a more understated look, sported a dark green ensemble with subtle bronze details, his mask simple yet sophisticated, giving him an air of quiet confidence.

Carlos, Mercutio and Benvolio all arrived at the mansion, eager to have a good time. As they mingled with the guests, no one had any idea that they were from the rival Ferdinand family.

They blended in seamlessly, sipping drinks and chatting merrily, their true identities hidden from the unsuspecting crowd.

The three friends revelled in the freedom of being anonymous at the party. They could let their guard down and truly enjoy themselves, without the constant tension and rivalry that existed between their family and the Alfonso.

For once, they were able to forget the long-standing feud and simply live in the moment, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. . . .

"Everyone! Please give your full attention to King Alfonso and his daughter, Princess Y/N who make their appearance tonight!" The announcer stated, catching everyone's attention and the room came to a silent halt.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of royal triumphs hung on the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the background, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the top of the imperial staircase, a majestic red carpet led straight to the throne, where King Alfonso and Princess Y/N stood in their resplendent attire.

King Alfonso, a striking figure with a commanding presence, wore a robe of deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold embroidery. His crown, encrusted with precious gemstones, rested regally upon his silver hair, which added to his dignified look.

His piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a mixture of authority and benevolence, and a jeweled scepter in his right hand glinted under the chandelier's light, symbolizing his unchallenged power and leadership.

Princess Y/N, standing gracefully beside him, was the epitome of elegance and poise. Your gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin in shades of royal blue, shimmered with every movement.

A tiara of diamonds and sapphires adorned your flowing locks, complementing your serene and captivating beauty.

Your eyes, a brilliant shade of green, radiated warmth and kindness as you acknowledged the gathered guests, while your calm demeanor and gentle smile hinted at the wisdom and strength that lay beneath your refined exterior.

Carlos and his friends were at the buffet, eagerly sampling the lavish spread of delicacies when the announcement echoed through the hall.

While his companions barely glanced up before returning to their plates, Carlos found himself captivated by the sight of you. Your graceful presence and ethereal beauty held him spellbound, making it impossible for him to look away.

The sparkle of your tiara and the gentle warmth in your eyes seemed to draw him in, as if you were the very embodiment of a fairy tale come to life.

As his friends continued their animated conversation about the best dishes at the buffet, Carlos remained rooted to his spot, his gaze fixed firmly on the princess.

He felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic pull that made the noise and bustle around him fade into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; all he could see was you, and all he could feel was the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you might notice him amidst the sea of faces.

The first dance came soon after the announcement, and Carlos knew it was the perfect chance to make his presence known. As the music started, couples began to fill the dance floor, but Carlos's eyes never left you.

Gathering his courage, he approached with a respectful bow, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity in his gaze, and placed your hand in his.

As you both moved gracefully to the rhythm, the world seemed to blur around you. Carlos felt a sense of belonging and purpose, each step affirming the connection he felt.

In your presence, the grandeur of the ballroom faded, leaving just the two of you, sharing a moment that neither would soon forget.

"What is your name?" you asked, your voice as melodious as the music enveloping the room. Carlos hesitated for a brief moment, the truth perched on the edge of his tongue.

"My name is Charles," he lied. A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

You tilted your head slightly, a curious glint in your eyes as you continued to dance. "Charles," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, Charles, what brings you to our celebration tonight?"

Carlos swallowed hard, determined to maintain his composure. "I came with friends," he replied, gesturing subtly towards the buffet. "But now, I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity to dance with you, Princess."

Carlos and you danced gracefully before your father, the King. As the music came to an end, your father gave you a pointed look, signalling that it was time to separate and greet another potential suitor.

You leaned in to Carlos and whispered, "Meet me in the west garden in an hour."

Carlos' eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made your way through the throng of guests, exchanging pleasantries with the various noblemen and women who sought your attention. However, your mind was focused on the upcoming meeting with Carlos.

As the appointed hour approached, you slipped away from the main festivities and hurried to the west garden. Carlos was already there, waiting for you under the moonlit sky.

"You came," You said, relief evident in your voice.

"Of course," Carlos responded, taking your hands in his. "I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you, even if it's just for a moment."

"Carlos, I... I don't know what to do. My father expects me to entertain these suitors, but that's not what my heart wants me to do."

Carlos squeezed your hands gently, his eyes searching yours. "Sometimes, we must follow our hearts, even if it means defying expectations," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"I know it might be difficult, but you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who cherishes you for who you are, not just for your title."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your father's expectations and the longing in your heart. "But what if my father never approves? What if he forces me to marry someone else?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carlos stepped closer, his grip on your hands firm and reassuring. "Then we'll find a way to be together, no matter the obstacles. Love is worth fighting for, Princess. And I promise, I will fight for you."

"But how, you've only met me today," you started, your voice tinged with skepticism.

"It's something called love at first sight, Princess," Carlos teased, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. It's not just about the title or the expectations—it's about the connection we share, even in such a short time."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but doubt still lingered. "But what if this feeling fades? What if we regret defying everything for a chance that might not last?"

Carlos' expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. "Feelings like this don't fade easily, Princess. Genuine connections are rare and precious, and I believe ours is one of them. We owe it to ourselves to explore this, to give our hearts a chance to truly know if it's real."

"Okay," you replied shyly, a blush rising to your cheeks. No one has ever spoken to you like this before; it has always been about fulfilling duties and consummating the marriage.

Your entire life, you were taught that love was secondary to alliances and obligations, but Carlos' words stirred something deep within you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than duty.

Carlos' eyes softened as he noticed your hesitation. "This world we live in often binds us with chains of duty and tradition. But sometimes, those chains need to be broken for us to truly live. Let me prove to you that what we have is real. Let me show you a world where love and happiness aren't just dreams but possibilities."

His words carried a promise, a vow that resonated with the unspoken desires in your heart.

You nodded, unable to speak any more, tears welling up in your eyes. Carlos' hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, the simple gesture sending a shiver down your spine. His lips lingered for a moment, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected comfort and reassurance his presence brought.

As he pulled back, his eyes never left yours, a silent promise passing between you.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing together against the backdrop of an uncertain future.

You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength and determination blooming within you. With Carlos by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that love, for once, would guide your path.

"Should your first job to court me be to kiss me on the lips?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. Carlos chuckled, the sound light and full of promise.

"If that is what the princess desires," he replied, his voice low and husky.

He leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't; instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if both of you were savoring the moment's significance. Then it deepened, becoming a silent conversation of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you saw the same exhilaration mirrored in Carlos' eyes.

"Consider it the first of many," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because this is just the beginning of our journey together."

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. The kiss had unlocked a floodgate of feelings you had kept hidden for so long, and in that brief, magical moment, you felt truly seen and understood.

As you gazed into Carlos' eyes, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together, strengthened by the bond you had just forged.

"How will I communicate with you?" Carlos whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "We'll find a way," you replied, your voice steady with conviction. "Whether through letters, messages, or the silent understanding we share, we'll always be connected."

Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with trust and determination. "I believe in us," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Princess Y/N! Where are you?" you heard your maid, Matilda, yell out your name, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and worry.

You turned towards the sound, your heart sinking slightly at the reminder of your duties and the world that awaited outside this intimate bubble.

"I think that's the sign to leave, but don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow," Carlos said, letting go of you reluctantly. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Promise?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"Promise," Carlos replied, his gaze unwavering.

With one last lingering look, you turned and began to walk towards Matilda's voice, feeling Carlos' eyes on you until you disappeared from view. . . .

"Matilda, you saw who I was with, am I right?" you asked, staring out of your window as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room.

"Yes, Princess," Matilda replied, her voice hesitant but clear.

"Do you recognize him?" you pressed, turning to face her, your curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension.

Matilda nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. He is the youngest child of our rival, King Ferdinand's child, Prince Carlos."

A gasp escaped your lips, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion grip you. "Prince Carlos? But how... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Matilda's eyes softened with understanding. "I didn't want to alarm you, Princess. I saw how happy you were. But you must be careful; our kingdoms have a complicated history."

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

If Prince Carlos had lied about his identity, how could you trust anything else he had said

The promise he made to you felt sincere at the time, but now, doubt gnawed at your heart. What if his intentions were not as pure as you had believed?

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the once-clear path ahead now seemed clouded with uncertainty.

Yet, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in the connection you had felt with him. Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, there had been moments of genuine warmth and understanding in your conversations.

Could it be possible that he, too, wished for peace and a way to bridge the divide?

You knew you needed to tread carefully, but the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be more to his story than deceit kept a small flame of optimism alive within you.

Your heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. "Matilda, what should I do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Matilda stepped closer, her expression filled with empathy. "Princess, you must tread carefully. Confront Prince Carlos and seek the truth. But remember, matters of the heart are never simple, especially when they are entangled with the affairs of state. Trust your instincts, but also be prepared for whatever truths may come to light."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—fear, hope, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Matilda's words echoed in your mind, urging you to confront Prince Carlos yet cautioning you to brace for the truth.

Your heart beat erratically, torn between the desire to uncover the reality and the dread of what that reality might reveal. . . .

"Good morning, Princess," you heard Carlos say as he emerged from behind a bush, his mask still on from yesterday.

You were in your garden, the same place where Carlos had left you last night. His presence startled you, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to face him.

"Carlos," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his real name, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "I see you know the truth," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I need to know the full truth. Why did you hide your identity from me?"

His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt and resolve as he stepped closer, the morning light casting shadows across his masked face.

"I never intended to deceive you," he said softly.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Carlos reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that was both strikingly handsome and etched with sorrow. Your breath hitched at the sight, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the chiseled features and the intense eyes that had once seemed so distant.

It was as if a barrier had been lifted between you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

"I feared that revealing my true identity would ruin the connection we had built. Our fathers have a long history of conflict, and I didn't want that to stand between us. But now, I realize that honesty is the only way forward. I hope you can understand and find it in your heart to trust me once more."

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. "Carlos, this isn't just about our fathers' past. It's about the trust between us, the foundation of any relationship," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning. How can I be sure there aren't other secrets you're hiding?"

Carlos looked down, his expression a mix of shame and determination. "I understand your hesitation, but I promise you, there are no more secrets. I want to build a future with you based on honesty and trust. Please, give me a chance to prove myself," he implored, reaching out to take your hand.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was sincerity and a deep longing. "Carlos, this isn't going to be easy," you said, your voice softening.

"Trust has to be earned, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again. But I want to try. I want to believe that we can overcome this, together."

Carlos's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he whispered, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that my intentions are true. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, facing the world together."

You nodded, feeling a cautious optimism bloom within you.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you both felt that it might just be possible to forge a future built on a foundation of truth and mutual respect.

"Good," you muttered, cupping his face to place a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this newfound honesty. But soon, it deepened with a mutual understanding that this was the first step towards mending what had been broken.

Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing the determination etched in his gaze.

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if we're going to start fresh, maybe we should celebrate with dinner tonight. How about you cook for me? I've been dying to taste your famous paella."

Carlos chuckled, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Ah, my culinary skills, eh? You know, I only bring out my best recipes for special occasions. But for you, I think I can make an exception."

"You'd better," you teased, giving him a light nudge. "And don't think you can win me over with just food. I'm expecting some serious effort on your part."

Carlos grinned, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted. Just wait, by the end of the night, you won't have any doubts about my commitment to us."

You both laughed, the tension easing as you basked in the warmth of this new beginning, ready to face whatever came next, together. . . .

Carlos couldn't help but sneak another glance at the grand Alfonso mansion as he crept through the garden, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, finally reaching the veranda where you stood waiting.

"Absolutely," you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. "I've thought about it, and I don't want to waste any more time. If we're going to build a future together, let's start now."

Carlos took a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. I'll make Friar Laurence wed us tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a rush of exhilaration. "Yes, Carlos. Let's take this leap of faith together. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just us, united in a promise to face everything hand in hand."

"Until tomorrow, princess. I can't wait to make you my wife," Carlos said, kissing your knuckles.

Your heart raced as his warm lips brushed against your skin. The way he looked at you, with such adoration and longing, sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that there was no one else you'd rather spend the rest of your life with.

"I can hardly contain my excitement," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "The thought of becoming your wife fills me with such joy."

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with love. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, in front of all our loved ones, I will make you mine forever." He brought your hand to his lips once more, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

As he reluctantly pulled away, you already felt the loss of his touch. But the knowledge that soon you would be bound to him for eternity filled you with a sense of peace and belonging.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

The next day, under the cover of dawn, you and Carlos made your way to Friar Laurence's small chapel. The early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor.

Friar Laurence stood at the altar, a knowing smile on his face as you approached. "Are you both ready to take this step?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Carlos squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, Friar," he replied with unwavering certainty. "We are ready to start our life together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

Friar Laurence began the ceremony, his words a soothing balm to your anxious heart. As you exchanged vows, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Friar Laurence started, "Carlos and Y/N, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring an end to the conflict between your families."

Carlos said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, Friar Laurence. With this marriage, I hope my father and Y/N's father can find peace."

"As do I, Carlos. Our love will show them that there is a way forward, beyond this senseless feud."

Friar Laurence smiled, "I pray that your marriage will be the first step towards reconciliation. May God bless you both."

For those precious moments, it was just the two of you, bound by love and the promise of a future together. . . .

Later that afternoon, Carlos met with Mercutio in the secluded garden behind his family's estate. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees.

Benvolio, ever the jester, was the first to speak. "Carlos, you look like a man with a secret. Do tell, what has you so radiant today?"

Carlos couldn't suppress his joy any longer. "My friend, I have wonderful news. This morning, Y/N and I were married in Friar Laurence's chapel."

Benvolio's eyes widened in surprise. "Married? So soon? But what about the feud between your families? Do they know?"

Carlos shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Not yet, but we hope that our union will be the catalyst for peace. We believe that our love can end this senseless conflict. Now, more than ever, we need your support and discretion."

However, he is soon stopped when he sees Tybalt Alfonso, Y/N's cousin, there arguing with Mercutio. The tension in the garden was palpable, cutting through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

Tybalt's face was flushed with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at Mercutio. "What are you doing here, Montague?"

Tybalt spat, his voice laced with venom. "This garden is not for the likes of you."

Mercutio, ever the provocateur, smirked and replied, "Oh, Tybalt, must you always be so dramatic? We're simply enjoying the lovely weather. Besides, Carlos invited us."

Carlos stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "Tybalt, please, this isn't the time for old grudges."

Tybalt glared at Carlos, his eyes burning with fury. "You dare refuse my challenge?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are sworn enemies, and you will face me in combat!"

Carlos held up his hands, his expression calm and resolute. "I cannot, Tybalt. You are like family to me. I love you as a brother, and I will not raise my hand against you."

Tybalt's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected response. "What madness is this?" he demanded.

"We have been at odds for years, and now you claim to love me as kin?"

"It is no madness, Tybalt," Carlos replied evenly. "My heart has changed, and I see now that our feud has been a foolish and pointless thing. Let us put aside our differences and embrace as family."

Tybalt's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You mock me with your words, Carlos," he growled.

"I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue. The time for talk is over - draw your sword and fight, or be forever branded a coward!"

"I cannot believe you refuse to fight like a true man," Mercutio spat, his eyes narrowed in frustration as Carlos once again declined the challenge.

"Do you not have the courage to face me on the battlefield?"

Carlos averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, Mercutio, but I have no desire to engage in such violence. Perhaps we could resolve this matter peacefully."

Mercutio scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Peaceful? Bah! You dishonour yourself and all those around you with your cowardice."

He stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "If you will not fight, then I shall take your place and show you how a true warrior conducts himself."

Before Carlos could protest, Mercutio had already turned to face Tybalt, his sword drawn and his stance ready.

"En garde, Tybalt!" he called out, his voice ringing with a mixture of anger and excitement. "Let us see who is the better swordsman!"

Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords, the blades gleaming in the sunlight as they began to duel.

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the streets as the two men traded fierce blows, their movements swift and precise.

Sensing the escalating tension, Carlos attempted to intervene, stepping between the combatants in a desperate bid to stop the fighting.

However, Tybalt, blinded by rage, lashed out with his sword, aiming to strike Carlos but instead catching Mercutio in the chest.

Mercutio cried out in pain as the blade pierced his flesh, crimson blood spilling onto the cobblestones. He staggered backward, his own sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound.

Tybalt, realising his mistake, hesitated for a moment, his expression a mix of shock and regret.

The brief pause was all Carlos needed to seize Tybalt's sword arm, wrestling the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. Mercutio, his strength fading, collapsed to his knees, his laboured breaths echoing in the stunned silence that had fallen over the scene.

Mercutio drew his final, shuddering breath, his body racked with agony. He turned to his friend Carlos, pain etched across his face.

"Alas, dear friend, I fear my end is nigh," Mercutio said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This wound, it burns like fire, sapping my strength with every passing moment."

Carlo grasped Mercutio's hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Speak not of such things, good Mercutio. You shall recover, I promise you."

Mercutio managed a weak smile. "Nay, Romeo, my time has come. Promise me, promise me you'll not forget me." Romeo nodded solemnly, a single tear cascading down his cheek.

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend."

Carlos's heart ached with unbearable sorrow as he held Mercutio's hand tightly. "Your memory will live on in my heart forever, Mercutio," he vowed, his voice breaking.

With a final squeeze, he watched helplessly as the light faded from his friend's eyes. . . .

Carlos felt furious at Tybalt for killing Mercutio. The death of his dear friend had left him overcome with rage.

How dare Tybalt take Mercutio's life in such a callous manner? Carlos seethed with anger, his fists clenched as he replayed the tragic events in his mind.

In that moment, all Carlos could think about was avenging Mercutio. The thirst for retribution burned within him, clouding his judgment.

He knew he had to confront Tybalt, to make him pay for this heinous act. Carlos was determined to ensure justice was served, no matter the cost. His grief had morphed into a fierce, unyielding desire for vengeance.

Carlos scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Tybalt. The coward had fled, leaving chaos and heartbreak in his wake. Carlos's rage intensified with every passing second, knowing that Tybalt had not only taken Mercutio's life but had also escaped without facing the consequences of his actions.

The thought of Tybalt's cowardice fueled his resolve, and he vowed to track him down, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.

Determined and unwavering, Carlos rose to his feet, his mind singularly focused on his mission. He would hunt Tybalt to the ends of the earth if necessary, driven by a mix of grief and fury.

The streets that once seemed familiar now felt like a labyrinth he had to navigate to find his enemy.

As he moved forward, each step was a promise to Mercutio: justice would be served, and the pain inflicted upon his friend would not go unanswered.

Carlos and Tybalt found each other in the dimly lit alleyway, the tension between the two palpable. They circled one another, eyes locked, hands gripping their weapons tightly.

Without warning, Tybalt lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Carlos parried the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the narrow passage. The two men traded blows, their movements quick and precise, each one trying to gain the upper hand.

The fight raged on, neither man willing to back down. Tybalt's attacks grew more frenzied, his desperation fueling his strikes.

Carlos, however, remained calm and focused, his counterattacks landing with devastating precision.

In a final, desperate attempt, Tybalt made one last lunge.

But Carlos was ready, and with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his blade deep into Tybalt's chest. Tybalt's eyes widened in shock, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Carlos stood over Tybalt's lifeless body, his chest heaving with the adrenaline of the fight. The rage that had fueled him moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, somber silence.

He glanced up at the darkened sky, a sense of emptiness washing over him as he realized that, despite his victory, the void left by Mercutio's death could never truly be filled.

Realising what he has done, Carlos fled in a panic. The weight of his actions overwhelmed him, and he knew he could not face the consequences.

The Prince arrived on the scene, his expression grave.

With a booming voice, he declared, "Carlos, your crimes for killing Tybalt are unforgivable. You are hereby banished from Aragonia, effective immediately. You must leave our lands at once and never return, lest you face the full extent of our justice."

Carlos trembled, knowing there was no arguing with the Prince's decree.

You crumpled to the floor, the news of your cousin Tybalt's death and your husband Carlos' banishment hitting you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the letter that had delivered such devastating news.

The room seemed to spin, and you felt an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The love you had for Carlos was now intertwined with the grief and anger over Tybalt's demise, leaving you torn and shattered.

Days turned into nights, and the sorrow did not relent. You wandered through your home, haunted by memories of happier times, now tainted by the tragedy that had befallen your family.

Friends and family tried to console you, but their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the chasm of pain that consumed you.

The future seemed bleak, and you struggled to find a way forward, questioning how you could ever rebuild your life with the two most important people ripped away from you.

Each moment brought a fresh wave of anguish, the love for Carlos clashing violently with the grief and anger over Tybalt's death. You found yourself trapped in an endless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to reconcile the two.

At night, when the world was quiet, the memories of Carlos's gentle touch would surface, only to be shattered by the haunting vision of Tybalt's lifeless body, leaving you torn between the man you loved and the cousin you had lost.

"Y/N! Open the window door!" you heard someone too familiar say at your balcony at night.

You were about to sleep when you ran to the balcony to see Carlos, your husband who was supposed to be banished from the kingdom for killing your cousin.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" you asked, opening the window for him, still angry for his actions.

"Y/N, my love, I had to come back. I couldn't live without you," Carlos pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I did it to protect you. That cousin of yours was a threat, and I had to eliminate him."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? By murdering my own flesh and blood? Do you have any idea what you've done? You're a wanted man, Carlos. If they find you here, they'll kill you."

"I don't care about that," he said, reaching for your hand. "All that matters to me is you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

You pulled your hand away, your heart torn between your love for Carlos and the weight of his actions. "Carlos, you have to leave. This is madness. I can't protect you, and I can't be with you, not after what you've done."

"They didn't tell anyone but your cousin killed Mercutio," Carlos muttered.

"What? That can't be true," You exclaimed, your heart racing. "My cousin would never do such a thing!"

Carlos shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it is true. I was there, I tried to stop them. They were trying to cover it up. I'm sorry I killed Tybalt but it was justice for Mercutio,"

You felt a sense of disbelief wash over you.

"Tell me everything, Carlos," you demanded, your voice trembling. "I need to know exactly what happened that night."

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It all started when I was telling Mercutio about our marriage. Tybalt suddenly came out of nowhere and challenged us to fight. Tybalt lost his temper and attacked him. I tried to intervene, but it was too late. When I saw Mercutio fall, I knew I had to act."

You could see that Carlos wasn't lying through his eyes, which made you feel even worse. You walked further into your room, your hand on your face, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.

Carlos followed you, quietly closing the window behind him to ensure no one would hear your conversation.

"Y/N, I know this is difficult to accept, but I had no choice," Carlos said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't let Tybalt get away with what he did to Mercutio. Our friend needed justice, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Carlos, despite the anger and betrayal still burning within you. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the truth pressing down on you both.

"Y/N, I didn't come here to discuss bloodshed and the past," Carlos said, his voice steadying as he took a step closer to you.

"Then what did you come here to discuss?" you asked, leaning against the nearest wall to face him, your eyes searching his for answers.

"Us," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "We haven't really consummated the marriage, have we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. "Carlos, this isn't the time," you whispered, trying to hold back the storm of emotions. "Our lives are in danger, and all you can think about is us?"

Carlos raised his eyes to meet yours, determination etched in his features. "Yes, because despite everything, I love you. And I need to know if there's still a chance for us, if you still love me too."

You stood there, stunned by his confession. The love you once felt for Carlos was now tangled with the pain of recent events. "Carlos," you began, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened. Mercutio's death, the feud—it has all changed us. But I can't deny that a part of me still cares for you."

Carlos took another step closer, his eyes softening. "Then let that part guide you," he pleaded. "We can find a way through this, together. We can honor Mercutio by trying to build something better, something that isn't marred by hatred and violence."

You searched his eyes, longing to believe in the possibility of a future where love could triumph over the shadows of the past.

"Y/N, I want you," he said, his voice low and husky.

You looked up at him, your heart racing. You wanted him too, but you were still scared. . . .

"I don't know if I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll be gentle, I promise," he said, his fingers tracing the outline of your face.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn't resist him any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded, and Carlos led you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Carlos pulled you close and kissed you, his lips hot and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body melting against his.

He started to undress you, his hands skillfully removing your clothes. You stood there, trembling with anticipation, as he kissed every inch of your body.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You let out a moan, your body responding to his touch.

He continued to explore your body, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your pussy, he spread your lips apart and started to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep inside you.

You let out a loud moan, your body writhing with pleasure. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in to stimulate your clit.

You felt an orgasm building inside you, and you grabbed onto Carlos's head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," you moaned. "Don't stop."

He didn't stop, and soon you were crying out in pleasure, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Carlos stood up and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. You could taste your own juices on his lips, and it only turned you on more.

He reached down and pulled out his cock, and you could see the desire in his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he entered you in one swift motion.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you up, your body adjusting to his size. He started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, and you urged him on.

"Harder, Carlos," you moaned, "harder."

He responded by thrusting even harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke. You let out a loud cry as you came again, your body shaking with pleasure.

Carlos continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He let out a loud groan as he came, his hot cum filling you up.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat. You kissed him, your tongues intertwined, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

"Let's run away together," you muttered breathlessly, your lips still tingling from the intensity of your kiss.

Carlos looked into your eyes, his face softening with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a surge of certainty wash over you. "Yes, let's leave everything behind and start fresh, just the two of us."

Carlos smiled, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. We can go anywhere you want," he said, caressing your cheek. "Paris, Bali, or even a small cabin in the mountains. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

You kissed him again, your decision cemented by the passion you shared, ready to embark on a new journey together.

"You stay here and rest, and I'll pack for you," he said, sitting up with a playful smirk. "I've gotten a good eye for fashion, you know."

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief and exhilaration wash over you. "Oh really? I'd love to see your choices," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Carlos stood up and began gathering clothes and essentials, his movements quick and efficient. "Trust me, you'll look amazing in everything I pick," he said confidently.

You watched him, a smile playing on your lips, feeling a newfound sense of freedom. "I can't wait to see where this adventure takes us," you murmured, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Carlos turned to you, holding up a sundress and a pair of sandals. "How about this for our first stop in Paris? It's perfect for a romantic stroll along the Seine," he suggested with a wink.

You giggled, nodding your approval. "I love it! And maybe a hat to go with it? We don't want to look like typical tourists," you added with a playful grin.

He chuckled, placing the outfit in the suitcase. "Consider it done. And for the mountains, I've got just the thing—cozy sweaters and boots for those chilly nights by the fireplace," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You felt a rush of warmth and affection, knowing that no matter where you went, as long as you were together, it would be perfect.

"Here's to new beginnings," you said, raising an imaginary glass, and Carlos joined in, the two of you basking in the glow of your shared dreams and the promise of endless possibilities. . . .

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Matilda burst into your room, her face pale with panic.

"Where are you?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear. She tore through the room, throwing open the closet doors and rifling through drawers, but all she found was an empty suitcase and a note left behind.

Matilda's hands shook as she unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. "Dear Matilda, I've decided to start a new chapter with Carlos. I hope you understand. Please don't worry about me; I'm finally following my heart. Love, [Your Name]."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew deep down that you were doing what was best for you. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Be happy," sending her silent blessings to wherever your adventure was taking you.

Matilda took a moment to collect herself, then resolved to support your decision despite her initial shock. She decided to focus on her own journey, finding solace in the thought that you were finally pursuing your happiness.

Matilda knew that breaking the news to your family would be difficult, so she opted to tell a little white lie.

Over breakfast, she calmly explained to your parents that you had taken a spur-of-the-moment business trip and would be out of touch for a while.

"It's a great opportunity for her," she said, forcing a smile. "She didn't want to worry you with the details but assured me she'd be back soon."

Your parents exchanged concerned glances but ultimately trusted Matilda's explanation. As the days turned into weeks, she continued to cover for you, providing updates and reassuring them that you were doing well.

Deep down, Matilda felt the weight of the secret she was keeping, but she knew it was what you needed.

She found strength in the hope that one day, you would return to share your incredible journey with everyone. . . .

[whencyclopedia]

Order of the Garter

The Most Noble Order of the Garter is the highest order of knighthood in Britain and the most exclusive with traditionally only 24 knights as full members at any one time, along with the reigning monarch and the Prince of Wales. Created by Edward III of England c. 1348 CE, the chivalric order was one of the first of a growing trend where rulers and noble knights sought to differentiate themselves from the increasing number of knights in the late medieval period. The order's annual gathering at Saint George's Chapel at Windsor Castle, with its magnificent procession of members and retainers in full regalia, maintains the traditions of pomp and pageantry for which the Middle Ages are rightly famous.

Origins

The Order of the Garter was created by the English monarch Edward III (r. 1327-1377 CE) around 1348 CE and dedicated to the Virgin Mary and Saint George. The king was still in a celebratory mood after England's famous victory over a much bigger French army at the Battle of Crécy in August 1346 CE and was eager to further emphasise the nation's martial prowess by creating an elite order of knights. In addition, by the 14th century CE, the number of knights had greatly increased so that the upper ranks of the nobility began to look for some way in which they could differentiate themselves from other knights and create a sort of private members club. These elite brotherhoods were designed to also pull together the greatest fighters and most useful military knowledge and experience so that in times of war the order would prove a useful part of the army's command structure. Finally, such secular chivalric orders were a good way for a sovereign to ensure the loyalty of their best knights who otherwise may have joined an order whose members, instead, swore allegiance to the church (the then-defunct Knights Templar being an example of such an order).

The Order of the Garter was the first of such chivalric orders in England, but there had been several already formed elsewhere, notably the Order of the Sash by King Alfonso XI of Castile and Leon (r. 1313-1350 CE) and the Order of Saint Catherine in France, both founded during the 1330s CE. The pomp and ceremony of the Order of the Garter was something more, though, and it would spawn many other famous orders at home and abroad such as the Order of the Golden Fleece, created by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy (1419-1467 CE) in 1430 CE.

Just like the legendary Round Table of King Arthur, the order of the Garter was, from the outset, intended to be a very exclusive club indeed. Its first two members were Edward III himself and his son, Edward the Black Prince and Prince of Wales. Alongside this pair were 24 knights, known as Companions of the Order of the Garter, all of whom had fought at the Battle of Crécy. Each member was granted the right to wear a dark blue garter as a symbol of their membership and new rank. A specific coat of arms was created for the order, which includes the flag of Saint George enclosed in a circle made up of a garter. Besides the knights, there were 26 priests and 26 'poor knights' (faith and charity being great chivalric ideals) who were expected to pray for the souls of the more illustrious full members, although they did receive free clothes, food, and lodgings at Windsor castle.

Continue reading...

[arty-e]

How does Alfonso feel about Coral (though he has already passed)

Did not like her but in a more passive way compared to how Elizabeth felt (REALLY didn’t like her to point of hating her). He felt she was a snob and he didn’t care for her father either but he knew Dylan liked her a lot plus she was from the ten family so he saw no point in fighting against them.

[greatcateblanchett]

Disclaimer* Chapter I - To my son, Jonathan. Written and directed for the screen by Alfonso Cuarón

Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV

[docpiplup]

The Bastard Kings and their families

This is series of posts are complementary to this historical parallels post from the JON SNOW FORTNIGHT EVENT, and it's purpouse to discover the lives of medieval bastard kings, and the following posts are meant to collect portraits of those kings and their close relatives.

In many cases it's difficult to find contemporary art of their period, so some of the portrayals are subsequent.

1) Ferdinand III of Castile (1199/1201 – 1252), son of Alfonso IX of Leon and his wife Berenguela I of Castile

2) Alfonso IX of Leon (1171 – 1230), son of Ferdinand II of Leon and his wife Urraca of Portugal; with Berenguela I of Castile (1179/ 1180 – 1246), daughter of Alfonso VIII of Castile and his wife Eleanor of England

3) Blanche of Castile (1188 – 1252), daughter of Alfonso VIII of Castile and his wife Eleanor of England

4) Henry I of Castile (1204– 6 June 1217), son of Alfonso VIII of Castile and his wife Eleanor of England

5) Urraca of Castile (1186/ 1187 – 1220), daughter of Alfonso VIII of Castile and his wife Eleanor of England

6) Ferdinand of Leon (ca. 1192 – 1214), son of Alfonso IX of Leon and his wife Theresa of Portugal

7) Elisabeth of Swabia (1205 – 1235), daughter of Philip of Swabia and Irene Angelina

8) Alfonso X of Castile (1221 – 1284), son of Ferdinand III of Castile and his wife Elisabeth of Swabia

9) Philip of Castile (1231- 1274), son of Ferdinand III of Castile and his wife Elisabeth of Swabia

10) Eleanor of Castile (1241- 1290) daughter of Ferdinand III of Castile and his wife Joan of Ponthieu: with Edward I of England ( 1239 – 1307), son of Henry III of England and his wife Eleanor of Provence

Note: The marriage of Alfonso IX's parents got also annulled/declared void due to consanguinity, but I didn't include him on the list because this example is already present in Ferdinand III & IV

[fotograrte]

Sala del Almirante de los Reales Alcázares de Sevilla: el cuadro de "Las postrimerías de San Fernando" de Virgilio Mattoni

Vista general de la Sala del Almirante. Inicio el examen de este importantísimo edificio de Sevilla con esta Sala, cuya importancia histórica es innegable: Debe su nombre al Tribunal del Almirantazgo de Castilla, que tuvo su sede aquí. El Salón del Almirante era una parte de la “Casa de Contratación de las Indias”, institución funda- da en el Alcázar de Sevilla en 1504 por Isabel la Católica…

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Historical Portraits of Children // The Truth is a Cave – The Oh Hellos

Four Children Making Music – attributed to the master of the Countess of Warwick, 1565 // Three Children with a Dog or Two Sisters and a Brother of the Artist – Sofonisba Anguissola, 1570-1590 // The Children of Philip III of Spain (Ferdinand, Alfonso, and Margarita) – Bartolomé González y Serrano, 1612 // Three Children with a Goat-Cart – Frans Hals, 1620 // The Balbi Children – Anthony van Dyck, 1625-1627 // The Three Eldest Children of Charles I – Anthony van Dyck, 1635-1636 // Five Eldest Children of Charles I – Anthony van Dyck, 1637 // Portrait of the Children of Habert de Montmor – Philippe de Champaigne, 1649 // Group Portrait of Charlotte Eleonora zu Dohna, Amalia Louisa zu Dohna, and Friedrich Christoph zu Dohna-Carwinden – Pieter Nason, 1667 // The Graham Children – William Hogarth, 1742 // Portrait of Sir Edward Walpole’s Children – Stephen Slaughter, 1747 // The Bateson Children – Strickland Lowry, 1762 // The Gower Family: The Five Youngest Children of the 2nd Earl Gower – George Romney, 1776-1777 // Marie-Antoinette de Lorraine-Habsbourg, Queen of France, and Her Children – Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, 1787 // The Marsham Children – Thomas Gainsborough, 1787 // The Oddie Children – William Beechey, 1789 // Three Siblings – Johann Nepomuk Mayer, 1846 // Happy Children – Paul Barthel, 1898 // My Children – Joaquín Sorolla, 1904 // The Truth is a Cave – The Oh Hellos