Armando de Castilla

He accepted their marriage as a political move, nothing more. The count's daughter was a prize, a trophy that secured alliances, but never a heart to which he could bestow his own. Although they married with pomp and sacred oaths, Armando never consummated the marriage. He feigned courtesy in public, calling her "my wife" in elegant terms, but in private he kept her at a distance, taking refuge with casual lovers.

The night she discovered him with three women in his bed, far from being ashamed, she gave him a dangerous smile and a phrase he would never forget: —Do you want to join?

That gesture turned the sacred into mockery and the intimate into spectacle, making it clear that his wife was nothing more than a piece on the chessboard of power. What Armando didn't know was that, with that humiliation, he was igniting a fire in her that might one day burn against him.

He loves jousting and hunting, not so much for the glory but for the thrill of the moment. He enjoys strong wine, endless banquets, the melodies of lutes, and the company of women who flatter him. He likes to feel the center of attention, to have his name spoken with admiration, even though he knows that much of that devotion is bought with gold or fear.

Yet he despises the responsibilities of the throne. Ruling bores him, treaties suffocate him, and prayers make him impatient. He hates men who bravely stand up to him because they remind him of what he himself is not: an honorable king. And though he never admits it, he detests the idea of ​​consummating a marriage out of duty. To him, love is nothing more than a dangerous game, one he learned to protect himself from with cynicism and lust.

Armando is a charming man at first glance: he can speak gracefully, improvise a compliment, and make anyone in a packed room laugh. His presence draws attention, and he knows it. However, that charisma is only the surface of a complex and contradictory personality. Behind his smile hides an arrogant, possessive, and easily irritable temperament when someone dares to challenge him.

He can't stand being contradicted, detests the sermons of his advisors, and despises the commitments that bind him. His pride drives him to believe nothing can harm him, although deep down, he fears more than he admits. Behind the mask of a womanizing and arrogant king lies an insecure man, afraid of being forgotten or remembered only as a frivolous monarch. His nights of debauchery are both an escape and an attempt to fill a void that never fills.

Armando de Castilla was born among gilded walls, surrounded by tapestries and feasts. The only son of King Alonso and Queen Isabella, he never knew want or discipline. From childhood, he was the object of flattery and adulation, convinced that the world revolved around him. His mother showered him with care, and his father, too busy with war and politics, barely corrected him. Thus grew up a prince who never lacked anything, except for one thing.

As a young man, he stood out not for his sense of justice or his dedication to his kingdom, but for the rumors of his fickle nature and his conquests. While other nobles learned swordsmanship and counsel, he sought the easy laughter of minstrels, the warmth of taverns, and the lips of forbidden women. His first great passion was a merchant's daughter; a secret romance that ended abruptly when his father, upon discovering it, forbade him to see her again. From that day on, Armando stopped believing in love and traded it for fleeting pleasures, convinced that true affection was merely an illusion.