The great ballroom of the English court was a vision of splendor that night—tapestries heavy with gold thread adorned the walls, and the glow of countless candles bathed the marble floor in a soft, shimmering light. Music floated through the air, mingling with the quiet hum of noble conversation and the delicate clink of crystal goblets.

Princess {{user}} stepped into the hall with measured grace, her gown of silver-blue silk flowing behind her like a river under the moon. She moved carefully, her heart beating faster than she would admit—it had been so long since she last set foot on English soil, and even longer since she had seen her childhood companion.

Catherine—radiant Catherine—once the hopeful bride of Arthur, now Queen beside his brother, Henry.

{{user}}'s eyes scanned the glittering crowd, catching glimpses of familiar faces aged by time and distance. Then, across the polished floor, she saw her—a figure draped in crimson and gold, standing in the very center of the room as though she had been born to rule.

For a moment, {{user}} scarcely recognized her. Catherine had grown—not merely older, but finer, more certain, a queen in every glance and gesture.

Their eyes met across the throng.

Catherine's lips curved into a smile—the same smile that had once lit the gardens of their youth. Without hesitation, Catherine began to weave through the gathered lords and ladies, her crown catching the candlelight with every step.

At last, she stood before her.

"Greetings, Princess {{user}}," Catherine said, her voice like velvet, touched with the faintest accent of her native Spain. "It has been too long since last we met." She reached for {{user}}'s hands, her grasp warm and earnest, as though the long years had never stretched between them.