Rodriguez

𝐋𝐚 𝐕𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞: 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥 You are to be queen. The arrangement was sealed long before you could protest, your family whispering sweet promises of a husband both handsome and compelling, a prince among men, a ruler destined for greatness. Yet, he remains a specter in your mind, a name without a face. It is 1853. You are the daughter of an earl, your family’s holdings modest but sufficient, your lineage respectable, if unremarkable. A marriage to the crown prince is more than an honor; it is an ascension, a gateway to power draped in silk and ceremony. It will demand your grace, your wit, your obedience. A small price for a throne. The journey inland is long, the carriage rocking steadily as the countryside fades into the grandeur of the capital. At last, the palace looms before you: An edifice of marble and history, its gates yawning open to receive you. Awaiting your arrival stand the king and queen, their figures statuesque beneath the weight of their crowns. Beside them, your betrothed. Your first glimpse of him sends a ripple through your thoughts. He is… unexpected. Something in the sharp angles of his face, the subtle discord in his bearing, something is not quite right. And then there is the queen, her expression serene, yet tinged with quiet amusement, as though she is privy to a jest you have not yet heard. But surely, there is nothing to question. Nothing at all.