The Spaniard's Bride

One

Alvaro's fist met with the arm of his chair as he shouted, "I simply refuse."

The scrawny advisor glared up at his King and responded "My Lord, this is not a concept to be argued with. Nor is it optional. You must obligate to the King's law."

Alvaro shot to his feet, "Are you saying, Marcos, that if the King did not obey the King's law, that he would be no longer the King?"

The advisor started to back out as Alvaro stepped closer and closer, "And I, being the King, would be dethroned for a simple mistake such as refusal to marry?"

The advisor nodded vigorously, "To ensure that you have an heir, you must marry before you reach the age of thirty and being that thirty years of age is coming up in the next few months, it is time for you, my Lord, to start looking."

Alvaro sighed and gripped his hair, "I suppose you are right. Send me Isoba." He waved his hand, dismissing the poor advisor and sat down on the bench in his chamber.

He knew this day was coming, from the day he inherited the crown, Alvaro, the King of Spain, knew that a suitable bride was in his future.

But he was still young and wanted to be free. There were tons more girls out in the world that he could seduce and have until he grew tired of them and then pick up a new one the next morning.

And though he was King, he had vowed never to lose interest in his wife and cheat on her as his father did to his mother.

Leaving her was the source that killed her.

Alvaro stood and took off his shirt, leaving him in the white undershirt and he rolled the sleeves up.

He picked up the quill that laid on the desk next to him, dipped it in ink and started working on the log he was working on.

A few moments of silence went on before Alvaro smiled slyly and said, "You know, Isoba, I thought I would never see the day where you could sneak into my room noticeably."

"It seems the day has come upon us, my Lord." The deep, powerful voice replied.

Alvaro sighed and set his pen down, "Yes it has."

He looked up at his right-hand-man, a large, muscular, former Africa American slave. Alvaro had come across him while in Portugal, a young gentleman as himself, a found his skills valuable enough to cart home.

Ten years later, Alvaro could not seem to see a day with Isoba.

"I have a dilemma." Alvaro started.

"I have heard, my Lord."

"Yes, a bride is to be found by the time I turn thirty."

"My Lord, may I suggest..." Isoba trailed off as Alvaro waved his hand, "You know I do not mind you speaking freely with me, Isoba. Just tell me what you are thinking about in that big head of yours."

Isoba crossed his arms over his bare chest, "A young prince was found drunk in a tavern two weeks ago."

Alvaro sat up in his chair, "And by law, that is an act of war if not on official business."

Isoba gave him a sly smile, "He was not."

Alvaro stood, "And how, exactly mi amigo, does this aid me in my dilemma?" (my friend)

"His name is Henry, from England, someone we are not at peace with at the time. And he has some... hermanos." (siblings)

Alvaro raised an eyebrow, "And I am guessing these hermanos include a woman?" (siblings)

Isoba nodded, "In fact, his eldest sister is claimed to be very beautiful."

Alvaro felt all the pieces click together as grabbed the shirt he had discarded earlier and pulled it on.

"Bring me my advisors, call an emergency council meeting and bring the prisoner. For once, we have the advantage, Isoba."

~~~~~~

Henry thrashed under the hold of the very jolly slave who dragged him through the dungeons.

"I am a prince." He slurred, "Do you know what that means you, daft idiot. It means my father or my brother, whoever the hell is in charge, can have you sentenced to death. Now let me go!"

Henry felt slightly powerful for a moment as the steps of his captor ceased.

But one thing that did not seem to cross his mind was to open his eyes and look at where he was, for he suddenly found himself pressed to cold marble floors.

Stupid, irrational fear of heights. He cursed silently.

He stood and brushed off his breeches and looked ahead at the massive room filled with people staring down at him.

"¡Hola, mis amigos! Me llamo Henry y soy un real. Necesito ir a casa. ( Hello, my friends. My name is Henry and I am a royal. I need to get home.) " He tried desperately in a very bad version of his Spanish.

The man ahead, who he assumed was the leader of the tyranny, glared at him. He definitely was not amused by Henry.

The man stood and stepped down slowly from his throne, "I am Alvaro, King of Spain." The man said, his accent so thick that he nearly lost himself in the words, "You, Henry, have trespassed on my land. Do you know what that means, tonto del culo?" (fool's ass)

Henry gulped and felt himself start to sweat, "Uh, you are going to help me arrive home?"

"Sí, and you, in exchange for your life, will give me your sisters." King Alvaro said as he grabbed Henry by the arm.

"Uh, you mean Priscilla? Because," He laughed shortly, "Man is she ugly."

The King glared down at him further, "No, tonto del culo, the beautiful one."

Henry shook his head, "No way, mi amigo, she is not for sale." (my friend)

The King released his arm with such force that Henry went stumbling backward, "Do you know what I do with trespassers?"

Henry gulped when a dark-skinned arm wrapped around him and a hand grasped his throat.

Those are some muscles. He slurred as he admired the arm, "I assume, your majesty, that you give me to your slave here to eat."

His head was suddenly slammed down, "I am no slave." The captor said, pushing his face farther down.

Henry gulped and laughed nervously, "Of course not!"

"Isoba here is quite fond of English man. Especially since they had captured his village as a child and destroyed his life. He has developed this undying taste for... let us say,
venganza." (revenge)

Henry nodded vigorously, "Yes sir, I get it. Run home and send my sister. Right away."

The King smiled and waved his hand, "Bien, now run along." (Good)

And Henry did more than that.