#the-lord-confessor

[thelittleprincesstargaryen]

Nya and Kepa

One of Visenya known habits was walking into rooms and silently taking a seat in one of her parents’ laps. Something she had seen her muña do with her kepa and something mumuña Rhaenys did with kepāzma Corlys, though the adults usually did it in theprivacy of the family livingrooms.

Being told no, was not something that happened often to Princess Visenya. It had started when she was very young, due to her being sick, but it was also because she very rarely asked for outrageous things, nor things her family wouldn’t do for her.

After her classes ended, Visenya wandered through the hallways of The Red Keep. Her classes had ended earlier than usually and none of her nannies or carers had known, which allowed the princess a rare moment to herself, but Visenya wasn’t very fond of being on her own. Visenya was often seen with her mandia Rhaena, following her around like a shadow or reading to her hāedar Aemma, when she wasn’t with her parents.

Her steps led her the familiar route to her kepa’s office. The door was ajar and Visenya paused, listening for activity inside. She could hear someone talking, though it wasn’t her kepa, sounded like one of the guards. Visenya looked inside and spotted her kepa in his seat by his ornate desk.

Without a word, Visenya pushed the door open wide enough to slip through. The guard paused, briefly, and bowed to her, before he continued talking. Visenya climbed into her kepa’s lap with practised movements and leaned against him. She knew not to repeat words she heard in private meetings, though truly she rarely paid attention, but simply enjoyed the proximity to her parents or grandparents.

Only when the guard left did Visenya speak. “Kepa? Will you tell me about when you were little? About you and mumuña Rhaenys and your Lēkia Viserys?” She asked, toying with a button on his waistcoat.

A closed starter for: @the-lord-confessor

[flipflopitstimetostop2]

hollow knight twitter feed simulator part 2

[vigilantkilliforniakatholixxx]

[chickenly]

Would you trust them with the elden ring? y/y

[mysterycflife]

“ I don't recognize myself. ”(larys and kyra)

"Metamorphosis is common in nature, my love," the Lord Confessor answered from his place by the fire. Putting down the book he was reading, he turned to the princess to see what @amarvelousmencgerie was doing that had made her utter such a comment. Thin lips curved into a smile as Larys watched her, observing her frame in the looking glass. He knew her not to be vain, and she had no reason to doubt her beauty in his eyes. There must have been another reason such thoughts were running through her mind. It intrigued him. Kyra was always most interesting to him when she offered a mystery. When she acted in unpredictable ways. Offered more than the boredom he felt in the presence of others.

He slowly rose from his seat and took his cane to shuffle behind her. "A caterpillar would say the same if it could see itself as a butterfly." He told her, ice-blue eyes finding hers in the mirror. He put the fingers of his free hand under her chin and raised it gently, so she would hold her head high. Nodding approvingly, he then wrapped his hand around her throat. Resting it there without pressure. "I still know you, my princess. You could never change in a way for my eyes and heart not to recognize you."

[gastlygallows]

My pen is working again FINALLY I can once again messily sketch in SAI (maybe I high effort later I'm not much of a drawer but it's fun!)

Maiden-chan and Confessor-chan who is definitely not going to slap tf out of her with some charming branch twigs and laugh at watching her succumb

[aurorasilverthorne]

Fire & Blood AU ___________________

Characters #5:

Selyse Baratheon

Sister of Lord Borros Baratheon. The wife of Larys Strong the Clubfoot. Mother to Orys & Harlow. The Lady of Harrenhal & the Royal Confessor after her husband is made the Master of Whispers. A woman with a sadistic streak & a knack for bribery & torture. Has been called "Snake Eyes" by the commonfolk & monikered "Selyse Stormbringer" by the nobility & royals. She lacks compassion & shows little remorse for her words or her actions unless they negatively affect her or her children. Fond of her husband only because they're both conniving & bent on causing chaos in the seven kingdoms for those they consider unworthy of the iron throne. Her goals are a mystery & nobody knows whether she's loyal to anyone aside from herself.

Orys Strong

Eldest son of Larys & Selyse. Brother to Harlow. Grandson to Lyonel & nephew of Harwin. Is a curious boy with a penchant for harmless pranks. Wants to be a knight like his favorite (only) uncle one day.

Harlow Strong

The younger son of Lord Larys & Selyse. Younger brother to Orys. The grandson of Lyonel & nephew to Harwin. A sweet, sensitive child with a gentle & shy nature. Idolizes his grandpa, who has been taking care of him & his big brother since the day they were born due to their parents' lack of parental instinct towards their own children.

Larys Strong

The younger son of Lyonel. Heir & future lord of Harrenhal due to his older brother's choice to step down as their father's heir. Once a confessor & now the Master of Whispers. Seems to harbor no actual love for anyone since he claims that love is a weakness & downfall for those who show it. His real motives & goals are a mystery. Possible greenseer.

___________________

Disclaimer: I do NOT own House of the Dragon or any of its characters.

Reminder: Selyse, Orys, & Harlow all belong to me. The images were made using Bing Image Creator. If you use any of my OCs or their images in any fanart or fanfiction, please remember to credit both the Bing Image Creator & me as their creators. Thank you.

Part #1: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758175401181872128/characters?source=share

Part #2: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758186985867345920/characters-2?source=share

Part #3: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758217659182645248/fire-blood-au-characters?source=share

Part #4: https://www.tumblr.com/aurorasilverthorne/758227678086283264/blood-fire-au-characters?source=share

[lesdeuxmuses]

Confessor - Unraveled (Southern Lord, 2005)

[justana0kguy]

2024 MAY 10 Friday

"For pleasure and pain accompany all virtue. The pain of the flesh, when it is deprived of the pleasant senses. And the pleasure of the soul, when it rejoices in the delights of reasons in spirit, pure of all sensible things. It is necessary that during present life the intelligence, now afflicted in the flesh - this is what I think - because of the numerous sorrows of the trials which befall it for virtue, always rejoices in the soul and is filled with pleasure because of the hope of eternal goods, even if in it the senses are overwhelmed. “For the sufferings of this present time cannot be compared to the glory to come, which must be revealed in us” (Rom 8:18), says the divine Apostle."

~ Saint Maximus the Confessor, Two hundred chapters on theology, St Maximus the Confessor VI:7-8

[endlessdreamworld]

My Sinful Little Angel

a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader

"Thank you again, Mr. Oak," you said as Sunday, the town's resident tailor finished repairing the frayed hem of your apron. "Here," you offer him a half dozen of today's special treat, powdered sugar shortbread cookies filled with raspberry jam.

"Thank you," he gave you a soft smile that made your heart melt. "Here," he offered you up some coins, more than he should but still a paltry amount the judgmental villagers would consider good and proper.

It was part of your little arrangement. You showed up one day out of nowhere, and the town's bakery took you in. You had a roof over your head and a belly full of food, but they paid you next to nothing.

"Tomorrow we're going to be maki--" a knock interrupted your sweet little announcement. It was the baker's son. Sunday didn't miss how your gaze fell to your hands clutching your newly repaired apron, how you seemed so very bashful in the presence of your peer. Oh God in heaven, please smite this wicked fool who dare intrude upon your shared sacred peace and tempt you so.

You gave him a small wave as you headed for the door, "I have to go Mr. Oak, duty calls." You were always so polite and sweet to him, so diligent, always doing more than you should. Sunday noticed the powdered sugar you had graced him with when he paid you for your work and brought it to his unworthy tongue. An ambrosia he didn't earn, one he didn't deserve. You were an angel made flesh, and far too good for a backwater place like this. One day, he swore, he'd do something about it.

As the sun set, he flipped the sign in the window from open to closed before heading off to his second job. Every flock needed a shepherd, and who better to play the role as he? And so the town's church offered a confessional booth service where he served as the confessor.

He settled in behind the screen and prepared his heart for the service. People always had such ridiculous things plaguing them so, but who was he to deny them salvation?

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

It was the sound of your voice. He held his breath. He couldn't help but hear how nervous and deflated you sounded. What heresy could you have committed to feel so low? "Speak freely, child," he spoke in an unrecognizable drawl. Sunday preferred anonymity. It was better when people didn't know who they were speaking to.

You sigh inwardly and steel your resolve, "I've been having sinful thoughts about another. One of my fellow peers."

Sunday has heard those very words before, and he didn't like where this was going. He was quite fortunate to be able to steer you away from such an unholy sin. "What sorts of thoughts?"

He listened to the sound of fabric brushing against the confessional screen, the sound of you squirming from discomfort. "Carnal ones I'm afraid. Whenever I'm with him, I pray his hands linger more than they should. Every night, I dream of clandestine meetings -- of the perverted sort."

Sunday hears how very affected you are, and he isn't going to allow some degenerate sully your pure soul and infect your mind. He was almost certain it was that baker boy with the way you could scarcely look at him, but if he were to do anything about it, he would need to be sure. "Those are quite heavy sins, my dear, but the lord forgives all who wish to repent."

"Thank you Father." He can hear the smile in your voice and he has you right where he needs you.

"To repent, it would be best to disclose the name of this wolf in sheep's clothing that assaults your thoughts and faithful heart."

Yes, give me a name. This whisper campaign to your excommunication will be as delicious as it'll be unsurprising. It'll be my revenge for whoever dares touch you so frivolously, my sweet angel.

You got quiet, the sound of conflict. Sunday's chest tightened, anguished by your misplaced sense of guilt. You were trying to shield whoever this dastard was by the kindness of your soul. He knew you needed one final push. "The lord forgives all who sin, even the serpent who tempts you so."

"Well," you swallowed thickly. Agony permeated your words as you work up the courage to oust the blasphemer, "it's Sunday Oak."

[rainpebble3]

holy shiiiiiiiii this is stunning

POV: You are Godfrey.

[vigilantkilliforniakatholixxx]

[mysterycflife]

"no matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it." - Alys to Larys

"Even a mountain is subservient to the tides," he answered moving his feet through the cold waters of the Gods Eye. @realmofthedragon was one of the few people he was secure enough with to take off his metal boot. The water was a welcome refreshment in the summer heat. The Riverlands weren't as hot as the capital this time of year but it was still too warm to drag his useless metal-glad foot around him all day. "What did the wind whisper to you, Alys, that you feel the need to remind me of the stillness of mountains?" Ice-blue eyes turned to the woman beside him. Larys was interested to hear what she had heard during their time apart. Since his father had brought him and his sibling to King's Landing a few years prior.

[thestoryden]

Changing Winds Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader Jacaerys Velaryon x Strong!Reader Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Violence, Cannon Divergence Words: 2.1k HOTD MASTERLIST

Summary: In a world much different from our own King Viserys has yet to leave this world, but tensions still rise at the capital between Rhaenyra and Alicent. In a battle for truth and legacy you find yourself caught in between two princes. The only question now is: Who will you choose?

As you arrive back to the Red Keep from weeks on the road your mind lingers on the last time you saw Jacaerys. The thought of his soft smile twists your insides with excitement; his lips soft as fresh snow. His body pressed against your, his warmth biting back the cool summer breeze. You cannot wait a minute more to see him. You think to yourself his hair must have grown out in the few months you were apart. You wonder how it will frame his face now. Your carriage comes to a jerking halt, making your dreamy thoughts of him fizzle as you nearly fall out of your seat.

“Hey! I am supposed to make it back to the castle alive.” You shout to the coachmen.

You are helped out of the carriage and there in one person of nobility there to greet you. Aemond Targaryen. You roll your eyes. This blonde fool had been following your around nonstop the last time you were at the castle. Any moment that he was not in court, you could find him trailing behind you. He stands there with a slight smile; he is always up to some scheme. You huff out some kind of greeting as he extends out his hand in invitation. You reluctantly take it.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lady Strong” Aemond muses.

His kisses your hand gently and you retract it as quick as lightning. You look up at him. If he were not a prince you would even bother to greet him. Unfortunately, your fantasy does not match the reality of the present situation. His one eye focuses in on you. Whatever was left of his other eye, he keeps tucked behind a simple leather patch. You purse your lips. He is as unnerving as ever.

“Why is my father not here to greet me?” You ask bitterly.

You already know the answer, the Lord Confessor is always too busy to see you unless he needs something from you. He dealt mostly in information and would scrape out any kind of knowledge you had on the family’s inner workings whenever he saw you. Aemond lips curl in to a devilish smile.

“The Lord Strong is preoccupied at the moment.” Aemond replies, “The queen sent me to greet you in his stead. She said you should have a warm welcome home.”

Of course she did. She had taken a liking to you before she even officially met her. She had summoned you to court once she had come by news of your mother’s passing. As a child you could not refuse her request, so you were uprooted from your family’s home and sent to Kingslanding. From that day forward you were raised with the royal children. You were meant as a companion for Helena, but when you took more to Jace and Luke she did not complain.

Aemond leans down closer to your face, “Did you hear me?”

You snap back to reality and take a step back nearly stumbling into the carriage. Aemond swiftly laces an arm underneath you, and pulls you to his side. Your face burns with embarrassment. You can feel his muscles cradling your waist.

“What is it?” You scoff, as if you could make the tumble seem intentional.

Aemond’s face softens, “The queen would like you to join her for tea after you have settled in.”

You find your footing and push him away. He only releases you once you have steadied. He relaxes and lightly brush his hair back over his shoulder.

“Yes, of course I will.” You reply as you dust off your gown.

Aemond quiets his voice, “I am delighted my dear.”

Your face contorts in disgust at what must surely be a poorly timed jest. Aemond smirks in response, and makes his way in to the keep. You wait till his behind shut doors to stamp your feet in irritation.  

“By the Seven, that stupid boy won’t leave me alone.” You seethe.

You head to your room and try to mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming tea. The thought crosses your mind that Jace may have left a note or gift to welcome your home coming. You urge your feet to move faster. When you finally see the familiar room, you check everywhere only to come up empty handed.

“Has anything been left for me?” You question a maid.

She shakes her head no in response.

After all the dirt and grime of the road is scrubbed off you finally look like a proper lady. A blue dress with green finery makes the cut for your tea gown. With your hair styled you head towards the castle gardens. At the far end, a table is set, Queen Alicent and the two of the greatest annoyances in your life are arranged around it.

“Greetings, Your Grace, the seven’s blessings be upon you.” You say softly.

“And to you Lady Strong,” Alicent replies with a cheerful smile.

You shift to an almost dreary tone, “Aegon, Aemond, glad to see your dragons didn’t shred you to pieces while I was gone.”  

You bow to the Alicent and take the seat closest to her. Your eyes drag over the dishes and goblets. You are starved for decent food after the dried meats and oats of the journey to Kingslanding. There is a suspicious lack of tea at the table.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but I thought I would be joining you for tea.” You question lightly.

Aemond voice sounds in a sullen tone, “As did I, but there were circumstances”

His words are cut short by Aegon’s slurring, “What my boorish brother means to say is, I wouldn’t come unless there was wine.”

You straighten your face as to not upset the queen and take a deep breath in. You had only left them for a few months and these two had some how gotten worse in your absence. You decide to move on to something more tasteful.  

“Will Helena be joining us?” You ask trying to smooth over Aegon’s words.

The queen smiles, “Helena was her already. She grew tiresome of the boys’ antics and is now wondering the garden as we speak.”

“Bugs. She is searching for hideous insects rather than enjoying my company.” Aegon says in disgust.

Aemond quips back, “Well it is certainly more stimulating than speaking with you, Aegon.”

“Boys!” Alicent’s tone shifts, “She has not taken news of Jacaerys’ engagement well.”

Your mouth drops open, “His what?”

Aegon bursts into laughter, “They didn’t tell you?”

The next few moments are a blur. Aegon says something but in blends in with the horror engulfing your body. You find yourself leaving the table without any pleasantries and running off to in to the palace doors. The dark doorway like a gaping maw, you plunge yourself into the darkness of the keep’s halls.

Your dark brown curls cling to your sweaty face as you rush through the halls of the Red Keep. Step after step the words the Aegon had said to you burn into your brain. He’s engaged to Baela. It happened while your away. Your chest felt like it might explode out of your body. Soon you were pushing open the doors to the training yard. The cool air hits your face and you are frozen for just a moment as Jace smile beams with a laugh.

At first the sight of him cools off any irritation you may have felt, but then you realize that smile is not for you. It is for the white-haired girl standing opposite of him. Baela. He take her hand in his and gently kisses it. It is far too intimate to be considered a regular greeting. The fires inside you are once again stoked. You cannot imagine why he would embarrass you like this, and so publicly too. He deserves to feel your pain.

“Jacaerys!” Your voice rings out over the clanging of blades.

Everyone pauses and looks to you and then to the man you called upon.

His face goes ghost white, “You weren’t supposed to be back yet.”

The words dribble out of his agape mouth. You can feel the red-hot anger boiling just under the surface of your skin.

“Seven Hells!” You shout, “Is that all you have to say to me.”

You unstick your feet and plow through the muddy yard. Your colorful dress soaks in the damp earth turning it into a swampy discolored mess. He drops Baela’s hand as you lunge towards him, tackling Jacaerys to the ground.

“I am sorry.” He whines, “It was an accident.”

“An accident! An accident!” You yell back, “Breaking a glass is an accident! You broke my heart, that takes effort.”

You raise your hand and ball it in to a fist, bringing it down hard on to Jace’s face. The motion sends you forward a bit, giving Jace enough time to shield his face from more blows.

“I didn’t mean for it to end up like this.” He begs, “You have to believe me!”

You grab on to his mud-caked curls and pull his head up before slamming it back down. The force of it shoving the crust of the training field into Jace’s mouth.

“Collecting ladies’ maidenhoods!” You screech, “You are nothing, but a bloody bast-”

You are cut short by massive pair of arms wrapping around you and tearing you away. You still clutch on to a few of Jace’s curls that come up with you. Leaving him yowling in pain.

“That’s enough.” The deep voice rumbles through you.

You recognize it immediately as your uncle, Harwin Strong.

“You wouldn’t want say anything more you would regret.” He chastises.

He carries you out of the training field and back in to the castle. When Harwin sets you down he looks you in the eye.

“You mustn’t fault the boy for doing he duty.” He says gently, “There is still love in his heart for you. I am sure of it.”

Your purse your lips. You can’t think of the words you are hearing. Everything is drowned out by a blinding rage. How could he do this to you. After everything he promised, after everything he said. Tears well up in your eyes.

“I am sorry uncle, I must leave.” The words come out in a half blubbering.

You stagger down the hallway. Before slumping down in to an alcove. You let loose a sob and the tears begin flowing down your face. You tuck your head into your crossed arms. Your sleeves become a sticky, gross, sopping mess.

“Gods why,” You cry, “What have I done to deserve such cruelty?”

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder. You look up and try to pry open your swollen eyes.

“Here let me help you.” A voice whispers.

You feel a soft piece of linen move over your face. Clearing away the snot and wetness of your emotional devastation. You blink your eyes till they clear and see an unexpected face. Aemond. He sits down in front of you.

“Is it true?” You sob.

Aemond sighs, “Yes, my brother tells true, for once in his life.”

“How did it happen?” You beg him to tell you.

“After a feast, they were found tangled together in the dragon pit.” Aemond’s voice trails off, “The arrangement came after.”

Your heart dropped. You did not want to believe it true. If it were because of duty, it would be one thing, but Jace having desire for someone else broke you. Water drips from your lashes and runs down your cheeks. When suddenly your thoughts were cut short. Aemond’s hand slips under your chin and tilts it back. He touch is light and cool against your fiery skin.

“Let me take your pain.” He whispers.

You look at his parted lips and close your eyes. Your body guides you closer to him. You feel his lips press in to yours. They were as soft as heather. He moves nearer to you his hair falling to the sides of his face. His scent washes over you. You raise your hand and cup his face with your palm. He pulls back. You whimper at the comfort slipping away from you. A soft blush spread across his face.

“Aemond, I had no idea you felt that way about me.” You say in shock.

He laughs lightly, “After everything I’ve done?”

“I thought it in jest.” Your reply honestly.

He brushes his hand through his hair, “And now?”

“I venture to say your intentions are more serious than I thought before?” Your words have the air of question to them.

Aemond rolls his eye. You have never considered there might be truth to the prince’s word before, but now you saw an opportunity. Revenge. A devious smile creeps up on your face.

“What is it?” Aemond tilts his head.

You lilt your voice, “Aemond, would you be so kind as to escort me to the next feast. I wish to dazzle Jace with the brilliance he has now lost.”

Aemond grins, “It would be my utmost pleasure, Lady Strong.”  

[mysterycflife]

“It’s not a trip I particularly enjoy!” Larys replied as he shuffled next to his brother. Walking as many steps as reaching the top of the Tower of the Hand required had always been difficult for the Lord Confessor. It cost him a lot of time and endurance. And he could already feel that he would regret the journey tonight. Well, perhaps not regret completely. It depended on the answers he would get from his older brother. “No! But something troubles you.” He was a keen observer, and he could tell Harwin’s mind was somewhere else these last days. Or on someone else. “I wanted to offer a sympathetic ear.” And quench his curiosity.  

❝ care for some company? ❞ (Larys for Harwin)

A furrowed brow comes as his first reaction as the elder Strong looks out over the city. He knew the voice but it was one he hadn't expected to hear, not recently anyway. Their own duties kept them rather occupied and apart rather than together and once the brief moment of confusion passed, Harwin was more than happy to have his brother by his side. There's a nod, a small smile as he turns partially while taking a step to the side to give him room. "I did not expect you to be here, brother." He says, though there is no tone to show Harwin was bothered. It was quite the opposite actually and no doubt Larys knew that. "Is there something that troubles you?" Attention no longer on the view beyond them, instead blue-green gaze remains on his brother who settled up beside him.

House of the Dragon Starters | Accepting | @mysterycflife

[marianadecarlos]

The Birth of Charles II of Spain Fanart

Warning: This story contains some artistic license

The Queen's pregnancy was approaching its end and had become a matter of utmost importance. The future of the Monarchy depended on this event. On Sunday, November 6, everything seemed to be ready. The doctors and physicians were on alert; the Queen's confessor was near her, and the Chief Steward of her Household was carefully reviewing the arrangement of the items in the birth chamber. To guarantee the success of the event, all the holy relics that were in the Palace and others brought from El Escorial and other places had been arranged in order. There was the staff of Saint Dominic of Silos that the Order of Saint Dominic had brought, the ribbon of Saint John Ortega, from the Order of the Hieronymites; the incorrupt bodies of Saint Isidore and Saint Diego de Alcalá; the image of the Virgin of Solitude and the one so venerated by the royal family, Our Lady of Atocha. It is not easy to find a space so holy and sacred. Everything, then, was ready, the things of the earth arranged to implore God's pleasure. At noon, after a frugal lunch, Philip IV retired to his chambers. At the same time, While eating, Queen Mariana suddenly felt intense pain in her abdomen, realizing that she was about to give birth. She quickly left the table and hurried to the Tower Chamber.

King Philip went straight to his study while looking at Prospero’s portraits. He entered his study, sat down, and began to write to answer the last letter of Sor Maria de Agreda. He wrote with a deep sigh and tears in his eyes.

“ With the long illness of my son, and the continuous help I was giving in his room, I have not answered your letter of the last month...I assure you that what has most exhausted me, more than this loss, is to see clearly that I have vexed God and he sent this punishment to castigate my sins...

(The king reminisces his cherished memories with Felipe Prospero while writing this letter)

Help me as a friend with your prayers to placate God’s just anger and beg Our Lord that, as he took my son from me, He may make his light shine on the Queen, whose confinement we await hourly, and give her good health and guard what is to be born, if his will, for otherwise I do not wish it...

Back in the Tower Chamber, Queen Mariana cries in agony as she is delivering her baby. The royal midwife Ines Ayala told Queen Mariana to push harder. Five other doctors were present at this event in case of emergency. One of those doctors was Dr Bravo. While the Queen was giving birth, the courtiers and Infanta Margarita looked on. 

Ah, Sor Maria, If I had succeeded in following your teachings, perhaps I would not have found myself thus. Pray to our Lord that he may open his eyes, that I may perform his holy will in all things... There is nothing new in the English situation. I, thank God am in good health...

At this point, King Philip was interrupted by a courtier who delivered the news and told the events occurring in the Tower Chamber. King Philip was anxious about the future that lay within a few hours. He prayed heavily to God, asking him to deliver him a son. All could imagine the impatience of the Royal Court of Madrid and Europe, waiting for an outcome of this event. As hours passed, Queen Mariana was still in labor, and the doctors argued over natural forms of treatment. They were anxious as the Queen and the child’s life was at stake. 

Dr. Bravo proposed a theory: In the past, Queen Mariana had difficult experiences giving birth to her children. At the birth of Maria Ambrosia, Felipe Prospero, and Fernando Tomas, The Queen had terrible epileptic seizures, and the infants died or lived for a short time. On the other hand, at the birth of Infanta Margarita, the only child to survive, The Queen had been perfectly well. Now why was this? The reason is simple: Just before Infanta Margarita was born, Queen Mariana had suffered several violent nosebleeds. Therefore, what she requires now is to be bled. 

Some doctors disagreed, warning that the proposed action could endanger the Queen and her child. Concerned, Queen Mariana asked the doctors if there were any alternative procedures. The doctors offered different opinions, while Dr. Bravo defended his proposal. As the debate continued, Mariana went into labor with the assistance of Ines Ayala. The infant cries and is alive. The birth of the infant brought joy to all. King Philip became a father once again. When the courtier informed King Philip of the birth, he was overjoyed and immediately visited the tower chamber to see his newborn son. King Philip joyfully held his son and proudly showed him to the Queen and his daughter. When the courtier informed King Philip of the birth, he was delighted and immediately visited the tower chamber to see his newborn son. King Philip joyfully held his newborn son and showed him to the Queen and his daughter. 

Sources:

Carlos, A king who would not die by John Langdon Davis

Happy Birthday, Charles II of Spain!