Chapter 8: Palace or home??
[Queen Reina Isabel's POV]
I still can't believe Mama went through with this. I know how long it took to wipe the town's lips clean of gossip. It took decades—generations before her had to die for our family name to be respected again.
I managed to stop this from happening all these years, even after their adamant push three years ago. I stopped it then—and I will again!
I cannot afford to lose the throne.
No, we can't!
I said this while pacing back and forth, visibly stressed out.
"Mi amor."
[My love.]
I heard my husband—King Alonso—call out.
"Sí, sí, mi rey."
[Yes, yes, my king.]
I replied, pecking him on the lips and massaging his head. He's getting old—and starting to bald. I touched his scalp in the way I knew would soften him.
"Why didn't you stop your mother?"
I asked, watching him flinch as he gently took my hand away from his head.
"But you love Mama Sofía… so what's new?"
"Well, it's been 20 years since she left the palace, honey. Did she really need to come back? You know how hard it was to win back the people's approval. And do we want the kids to start questioning things? To eventually find out the truth? The truth they shouldn't even know exists?
We can't lose the throne.
We can't lose the palace.
I worked so har—"
"Silence!" he thundered, cutting me off.
"This is her home. Their home. And they are welcome anytime they wish—and will stay here for as long as eternity. This is their home."
He finished softly.
"But… this is a palace."
"Home is where the family is. And this is theirs. End of discussion."
He said, walking out.
King Alonso had always been a carefree man, and it didn't really bother me much. He was nonchalant—so was I. No unnecessary drama in the marriage, and it was peaceful.
It had always been like that.
We didn't know each other before marriage, and we barely know each other now.
And it didn't matter to me at all—not in the slightest.
I just wanted to be the Queen.
---
[King Alonso's POV]
What even is wrong with that woman?
Do I even know her?
Well, I didn't before marriage—and 20 years later, I still don't.
The world's so modern now, I doubt anyone even bats an eye. Yes, we're the royal family—but honestly, who cares these days?
She has always been against their return.
But not this time.
I am the King.
It is my throne, and my word goes.
I'm just glad my Mama will finally be happy with my Mama.
And hopefully, my mothers can grow old together and enjoy every bit of it.
I should probably go check on Mama Sofía. It's been 20 years. We have a lot to catch up on.
I remember the games we played… the laughter.
We were one little happy family—until I was ripped away from it all.
It's not kingly to cry, but I did that day. And it haunted me.
Maybe now… I can finally move on from the trauma.
---
I made my way to my Mamas' room and gently knocked before sliding the door open.
"¡Alonso!"
[Alonso!]
I heard that familiar mothering voice call out as I reached for the warmest hug.
"¡Qué guapo estás, mi amor! Y has crecido un montón."
[How handsome you've become, my love! And you've grown so much.]
"Sí, Mama. Gracias, muchos."
[Yes, Mama. Thank you so much.]
"I saw my grandkid up close—he's so handsome! I heard if I've seen him, then I've seen her. She must be so beautiful."
"Yes, she is. She's also very smart… and mischievous."
We all laughed.
I settled in. We started conversations that brought the child in me back to life. And, as always, I asked them—for the umpteenth time—how they met.
"Well, why not?"
Queen Mother began, smiling.
"It's a lovely memory I'd walk back to… any day, any time."
---
[Flashback]
[Queen Elena's POV]
It was a very hot afternoon, and I felt the urge to stretch my royal legs—away from my comfort zone.
I took with me my favorite escort, Señorita Carolina—may her soul rest in peace. She held my parasol as I walked through the village in my straining corsets.
As I strolled, I met many people who greeted me with respect. But this particular one… was different.
We met.
She curtsied, offering her greeting—
"Buenas tardes, mi princesa."
[Good afternoon, my princess.]
I looked down and was caught by surprise at the sewing of her dress. The fabric wasn't much…
(I heard them chuckle a bit)
…yet she stayed in that bowing position, waiting for a reply. But my eyes were fixated on the style of shoes she wore.
I've seen heels, boots, sandals—name it. But nothing like that.
Already aching at the waist, she gave in and slowly raised her head.
Our eyes met.
And then—only then—was I certain of life's direction.
She glowed effortlessly.
Her beauty competed with the flowers around her… and she won.
I asked her where she got the shoes and the dress.
"I made them,"
She replied, her voice sounding like a blend of harp and violin. Vocal cords from heaven.
Right there, it gripped me.
I knew we would build a family together.
---
[Snaps out of flashback]
I turned to face the love of my life—Sofía.
"Mi casa es tu casa; tú eres mi hogar."
[My house is your house; you are my home.]
"…The palace is your home."