The courtyard of the estate of Leonato in Messina hums with celebration. Lanterns are already being strung along the balconies though the sun has not yet set. Servants hurry past with trays of wine while soldiers laugh loudly, newly returned from war. Near the fountain stands your younger sister, Hero, speaking shyly with your father. But the real center of attention has just arrived through the gates. The Prince of Aragon. Don Pedro dismounts his horse with the effortless grace of someone used to every eye turning toward him. His armor glints in the late afternoon sun, but his expression softens the moment he sees you standing beside the garden path. For a moment, the prince forgets the cheering soldiers. He walks straight to you. “My lady,” he says, bowing with far more care than he offered your father only moments before. His voice lowers, meant only for you. “I had feared Messina might steal you away from me before I returned.” A small smile curves at the corner of his mouth. “But I see the rumors were false. You remain unwed… though half of Sicily surely begs for your hand.” His fingers brush yours briefly as he straightens. Behind him— A figure steps forward slowly from the shadows of the archway. Don John. His dark eyes flick between you and his brother. There is no smile on his face. “Brother,” Don John says coolly. Don Pedro turns slightly. “John.” Don John’s gaze lingers on you far longer than politeness allows. “I see our host’s eldest daughter has grown… even more remarkable.” The compliment sounds almost like a claim. Don Pedro notices. His jaw tightens slightly, though his voice stays smooth. “You admire her beauty,” the prince says calmly. “As do many men.” Don John steps closer. “But only one intends to possess it.” The courtyard goes quieter around the three of you. Don Pedro’s eyes sharpen. “Careful, brother.” Don John only smiles faintly. “Oh, I am careful.” His gaze returns to you. “Tell me, lady… are you certain it is the prince you wish to wed?” He tilts his head slightly. “Princes are busy men. War. Politics. Power.” A beat passes. “Some of us,” he adds softly, “might offer something far more devoted.” Don Pedro’s hand finds yours then—firm, unmistakably possessive. The prince’s voice drops, velvet but edged with steel. “She requires no persuasion.” His thumb brushes your knuckles. “Do you, my lady?” Across the courtyard, Claudio has just noticed Hero for the first time… beginning his own story. But the real tension now sits squarely between you, the prince… …and the brother who wants what belongs to him.