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#Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain
cbraxs · 3 months
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Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 17
The Palace of Versailles was beyond magnificent. It was a nearly ninety million (yes, million) square feet estate covered in gardens, winding walkways, and topiary, with the main attraction the palace itself, a towering presence of marble white and cream that glowed in the night brighter than the hundreds of candles lighting up the night.
The soft winter breeze carried the fragrance of flowers through the night air. The din of excitable chatter nearly drowned out the airy sounds of several flutes, harpsichords, and violas.
It would have left Anthony breathless… if he had been there on holiday.
He imagined Isadora would’ve adored the palace, trying to capture every pond, fountain, garden, and tree to recreate later in her artwork. She’d ask a dozen questions and inexplicably have a dozen more answers. She’d love it so much she’d beg to stay for just a few more minutes and, of course, Anthony would give in.
He sighed and placed his mask on his face. He couldn’t afford to get distracted with thoughts of his daughter, not when he was purposely heading into a trap. He had to be alert. Focused.
Anthony was glad he warped close to the entrance, and even happier he was hidden behind a large yew tree. The estate was positively crowded with hundreds of gilded carriages and thousands of guests dressed to the teeth made their way inside. Women dressed in big baroque dresses decked with ribbons and bows. Meanwhile the men looked almost as extravagant, wearing every color under the sun. Many of them wore masks similar to Anthony’s, allowing them to enter without invitation.
With a snap of his fingers, his outfit changed to match that of the aristocratic party guests. Green mist shimmered around his form and when it vanished he wore a green frock made of silk and velvet with gold embellishments. White breeches, black boots, and a jabot-- fluffy white neckwear-- completed the look, and with his green and gold domino mask, he blended in with the crowd.
Anthony recognized when and where he was: The Yew Ball. The celebration of the marriage between the Dauphin of France, Louis Ferdinand de France, the son of King Louis the XV, and the Infanta of Spain, Maria Teresa Rafaela. Many of the guests were looking for the king for even a simple glimpse of His Majesty, but Anthony had a different target he was hunting down.
Mad Jack had to be here. Even if this were a trap (and it absolutely was) and he did not need to be there, he’d still be here. The man couldn’t help himself. He had this deep psychological urge to gloat even at the cost of his goals. It was infuriating but could work to Anthony’s advantage.
The Warp Wizard made his way through crowded courtyards, making polite and short conversations to not stand out. His eyes scanned every masked face and accessed everybody for a familiar lanky build, but there was no sign of Jack.
Past fountains and Roman-styled statues, he came across the ballroom, a wide open space situated outside surrounded by fountains and beautifully shaped hedges. Couples waltzed along to the lovely music while others socialized on the sidelines. Anthony scanned the dance floor when he saw “her.”
Across the dance floor was a woman with an oversized white powdered wig and an unbelievably big and bright green dress. She stood out like a broken arm.
Anthony ignored his years of training to blend in and go unnoticed. He stormed across the ballroom to reach her, blind to the strange looks from the other guests. As if sensing Anthony’s presence, the bearer of the bad wig turned around, a wicked grin under his mustache and a mean gleam behind a monocle.
“I’ll be damned.” Mad Jack snapped his fan shut with a dramatic flourish. “Look who the cat dragged in. It’s Anthony the Steadfast.”
“You look ridiculous.”
Jack laughed, like anything in this situation was funny. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
“Don’t play games. Why did you bring me here?”
He had the nerve to tut-tut-tut at him, waggling his finger like a disappointed guidance counselor. “So impatient. Why don’t you ask me to dance first?”
Anthony could arrest him now. Send him to Em and be done. But he needed answers and playing along with this silly game might be the only way he might ever understand what this nutter was up to.
He held out his hand and grimaced when Jack placed his gloved hand in his. The two of them glided to the dance floor, falling into the practiced waltz they’ve done a dozen times back in their academy days.
“You’re looking well,” Jack said.
Anthony snorted. “Like you ever cared for my well-being.”
“You got me there. Never could stand your meatheadedness.”
He’s been called much worse. As Anthony rolled his eyes, he caught a glimpse of something resting against Jack’s collarbone. It was a necklace of pure gold, two bands coiled around each other like serpents.
The madman noticed what Anthony was looking at and smiled. “Lovely, is it not? A perfect copy of the Necklace of Harmonia. I took it off the hands of a witch who was squandering its power.”
Jack was a thief. That was nothing new, he always had sticky fingers even when they were young. At first, it was endearing, but then he started taking historical artifacts. Important items that always got him in trouble, and for what?
“What do you want, Jack?”
“What do I want? As if anyone has ever given a flying fury about what I wanted. If they had then we wouldn't be here now, would we?”
Anthony could never comprehend the sheer entitlement of this manbaby. Ever since they met, it was all about what the universe owed to him, what he deserved. Like a disease, it’s only gotten worse with age.
“I suppose,” he mused, “that’s not entirely true. Dulari cared, once. That is before you and my simpleton of a brother corrupted her with your utter incompetence and softness.”
“You do not get to talk about her that way! Not after the way you treated her.”
“She didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do.”
Anthony stopped dead midstep. His jaw was tight. He clenched Jack’s hands in a death grip with his, and he briefly imagined them around his neck.
Jack’s smirk widened. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember the Academy’s golden rule: Don’t cause a scene~”
Anthony dropped Jack’s hands and sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to fight you. That gets us nowhere. Just tell me what you want with Isadora.”
“What makes you think I want—”
“For once in your life tell me the truth! I know what you’re up to, so why don’t you just admit it.”
A bluff. He still had no clue what the maniac was up to, but he hoped this would catch him off guard.
Apparently, it worked. Jack’s playful features morphed into shock before he quickly reclaimed his demeanor. “What does it matter? With those little earrings, I can’t get near her, anyway. Sounds like you’ve already solved the problem.”
Anthony’s heart skipped. Time slowed around them. “You’ve been around her?”
“I’ve had some run-ins, nothing you need to worry your empty little head about. But I must say, you ought to be ashamed. You stifled Isadora’s potential, fed her with half-truths and lies. She’s weak, nowhere near as powerful as Dulari, but for my purposes, she’s the best bet. If she doesn’t survive the process, then it’s no fault of mine, now is it?”
A chill swept through the ball. The horror of what he said hit Anthony like a crashing wave. Rage took hold of Anthony. In a blink, his fist, glowing green with magic, slammed into Jack’s face. The man flew past the dance floor, past hedges and shrieking guests, crashing through a gilded window.
Anthony summoned his wand. With a wave, he vanished and reappeared near where his fist carried Jack off to: The Hall of Mirrors.
He yelled for the few remaining guests to flee, and thankfully they listened. Hundreds of people poured out of the hall past statues and mirrors until the two of them were left alone.
He pointed his wand at Jack and raised him above the rubble and glass. The wig disappeared in the flight. His dress was in tatters revealing his suit underneath because of course, he was wearing his suit under the dress.
Manic laughter erupted from Jack’s upturned lips, speckled with red.
The blood in Antony’s veins boiled. “She is not your damned battery!”
Jack shot his hand forward. Anthony dodged out of the way of the cane sword that whizzed by, the tip barely slicing through the sleeve of his suit and grazing his arm. He winced in pain, dropping Jack in the process. Jack landed with a crouch and shot a bolt of magic at the chandelier overhead. Crystal shards as sharp as daggers plummeted down over Anthony. He would have been skewered if he hadn’t jumped out of the way, skidding ungracefully in shoes not meant for combat.
The chandelier exploded in a plume of shredded crystals. Quartz shrapnel splintered in every direction. Anthony whipped his wand like a lasso and caught the crystals overhead, hurling them back at Jack. He dodged; hardwood and dirt erupted where he once stood. He vanished in the cloud of debris.
Fire from the candles spread throughout the room, coating the room in red and orange light. Air burned in Anthony’s lungs. The flames reached high above them, licking at the marble walls and painted ceiling.
Anthony wiped at the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Cautiously, he approached where Jack lay, a pair of magic-proof handcuffs appearing in his hands in a flash of green.
“I’m finally taking you in, Mad Jack. Under Em’s authority, you are—“
Sharp pain flared from his shoulder blade. The fez-wearing man from the diner stood behind him, pulling the blade from his back, a wicked grin under lifeless eyes.
Another stab at Anthony’s side brought him to his knees. His vision doubled and blurred. He struggled to keep balance on his knees. Poison, he thought groggily. The blade was poisoned. The warmth of blood bloomed from his wounds soaking his clothes and staining the floor.
From the dust clouds, Jack emerged. Hate radiated throughout his body. He stalked towards his fallen ex-friend brandishing his sword.
“Finally, I can be rid of at least one thorn in my side.” He raised his sword, primed to rend Anthony’s head from his body weakened. “But fear not, old friend. Isadora will be in capable hands, at last.”
He swung. But the blade never touched his neck.
A flash of green as bright as the sun slammed Jack like a freight train. A blur of purple rushed past, but Anthony didn’t have the strength to follow it. His magic fizzled in and out as he tried miserably to heal his wounds. Behind him, Jack and a familiar voice shouted back and forth. Swords clashed and magic blazed. A flash of golden light seized the room, then… nothing. Silence. He couldn’t distinguish the roar of the fire and his blood rushing through his ears.
A moment passed before the sounds of footsteps quickly approached from behind. Anthony tensed.
“Anthony! Oh, dear. You’re hurt! Can you move?”
“… Joe?”
Joe the Magnificent stood before him. His purple suit was torn and his mustache was smoldering. Joe tried to help him stand, stopping when Anthony grunted in pain and nearly collapsed.
Joe frowned and fished out his pocket watch from his breast pocket. “Please hold on, my friend!”
Somewhere between bleeding out and warping, Anthony passed out, his thoughts on his daughter, her sweet face clear in his mind as everything else faded away.
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mary-tudor · 4 years
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“Louis Auguste was the fourth child and second surviving son of Louis XV's eldest son, the Dauphin Louis of France and his second wife Maria Josepha of Saxony, who was affectionately known as 'Pepa'. The royal couple had been considered unusual at Versailles for their domestic harmony and frank and open adoration of each other in a court where it was considered bad form to be openly affectionate towards one's spouse.
The Dauphin was a complicated character: he wrote to a friend that his soul was 'always gay' and indeed there was a liveliness and cheerfulness about him that made his company much sought after. However, he had also inherited the morbid nature of his parents Louis XV and his devout Polish wife Marie Leszczynska and was obsessed with death and dying, much as his cousin Isabella of Parma had been during her time in Vienna. His mother kept the skull of the delightful courtesan Ninon de Lenclos on her desk, garlanded with flowers (....). She called it 'Ma chère mignonne'.
It is recorded that in the early days of their marriage, the young Saxony princess Maria Josepha had been horrified to witness her new husband and his sisters spending evenings dressed in black and walking slowly around a dim candlelit room murmuring 'I am dead, I am dead, I am dead' in a continuation of a favourite game from childhood. It all seemed a bit weird and unacceptably morbid to a young princess who adored dancing, laughing, being outdoors, having fun and celebrating life.
It didn't help matters that the young Dauphin had been married once before, to the pretty Infanta Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, who was four years his senior. The court had giggled behind their spangled and painted fans at the young's bride unfashionable red hair, but the Dauphin had fallen immediately ans violently in love with her and was thrilled when she became pregnant. 'I can hardly believe that I am so soon to become a father!', he wrote to a friend, his delight echoing that of every young father throughout the centuries.
Maria Teresa gave birth to a daughter Marie-Thérèse in July 1746 and died four days later. Her young husband, just sixteen years old at this time, was genuinely devastated with courtiers likening his grief to that of ‘an inconsolable child’, which in many ways he was. The little princess, his only link with his deceased love, was to live for just two years and would die in April 1748 after being given an emertic in an attemp to alleviate the pain of teething.
No one knew quite what to expect when the Dauphin was married again, this time to Maria Josepha, and she must have been quite perturbed when on their wedding night he collapsed in tears into her arms and sobbed about his dead wife, which must have been somewhat awkward to say the last. The marriage seemed doomed to failure until the Dauphin caught smallpox and his little wife insisted on nursing him back to health herself. It is said she took such great care of him that a short sighted doctor (...) said to the Dauphin, ‘You have an excellent little nurse there. Never get rid of her’. The Dauphin made a full recovery and filled with gratitude, he fell in love at last with his wife.
The young couple enjoyed a blissful life together, almost a second honeymoon in fact, and were to be seen at their devotions together in the Versailles chapel every morning, before taking the air together on the terrace by the Orangerie. 
They shared exactly the same tastes for music, reading and gardening and loved to spend their time together. The Dauphin was a talented musician and played the violin, organ and spinet as well as singing in a very fine baritone. (...) He was also a talented actor, capable of reducing an audience to fits of uncotrollable laughter with his comedic roles.
(...) Both were keen philanthropists, who loved to assist the needy and were generous givers to charity. They gave instructions to their children’s tutors that the princes and princesses should be taken to the houses of the needy so that they could see for themselves how the poor lived.
‘They must learn to weep. A prince who has never shed any tears cannot be good’, the Dauphin explained.
He was also very fond of taking his sons to view the baptismal register of the parish of Versailles, where their names were written alongside those of more humble infants. 
‘Look my children, look at your names written after the name of a pauper. The only thing that can establish any difference between you is virtue’, he would say. 
(...) When Louis Auguste was born in the Dauphine’s bedchamber on the ground floor of Versailles in the boiling hot summer of 1754, the royal nursery at the palace was already home to Marie Zéphyrine, who was born in August 1750 and Louis Joseph, who was born in September 1751. Another son, Xavier, had recently died in February 1754 at the age of six months. 
(...) Their new son was born at quarter to seven and immediately passed into the care of Madame de Marsan, who was already governess to his elder brother the Duc de Bourgogne (...).”
From: “Marie Antoinette: An Intimate History”, by Melanie Clegg.
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tiny-librarian · 5 years
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Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France.
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venicepearl · 5 years
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Louis-Michel van Loo -  Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France
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riabellaminette · 4 years
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Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France
Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain (María Teresa Antonia Rafaela 11 June 1726 – 22 July 1746) was an Infanta of Spain by birth and Dauphine of France by marriage to Louis, Dauphin of France, son of Louis XV of France. She died aged 20, three days after giving birth to a daughter who died in 1748.
Born 11 June 1726 Royal Alcazar of Madrid, Spain
Died 22 July 1746 (aged 20) Palace of Versailles, France
Daughter of Philip V of Spain and Elisabeth Farnese
Married Louis, Dauphin of France (1729–1765) on 13 December 1744
Had one daughter Marie Thérèse, Madame Royale (1746-1748)
House Bourbon
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lukeskywaker4ever · 4 years
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King João VI 1ª daughter: Infanta Maria Teresa of Bragança
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Born: 29th April ,1793 in Ajuda, Lisbon Died: 17th January, 1874 in Trieste (aged 80) 
Maria Teresa Francisca de Assis Antónia Carlota Joana Josefa Xavier de Paula Micaela Rafaela Isabel Gonzaga was born in Ajuda, 
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Lisbon in 1793. As the eldest child of the heir to the Portuguese monarch, she was granted the title Princess of Beira (given to the son of the heir to the throne). Maria Teresa was the eldest daughter of King João VI of Portugal, 
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then the heir-apparent of the reigning queen Maria I of Portugal, 
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and his wife Carlota Joaquina, 
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daughter of Carlos IV of Spain.
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She was married on 13th May 1810 in Rio de Janeiro (where the royal family was exiled because of the Napoleonic wars) to her cousin Infante Pedro Carlos, Prince of Spain and Portugal. 
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She was widowed on 26th May 1812, soon after giving birth to her only child, a son, Infante Sebastião of Portugal and Spain 
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(1811–1875).
Very conservative, she was an ally of her younger brother Miguel I of Portugal 
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in his attempts to obtain the throne of Portugal (civil war 1826–1834), and of her brother-in-law and uncle Infante Don Carlos, Count of Molina 
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in his attempts to obtain the Spanish throne. In the last years of the reign of her uncle Ferdinand VII of Spain 
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(died 1833), Teresa lived in Madrid and plotted to strengthen Don Carlos' position in succession. She participated in the First Carlist War (1833–1839), being a leading supporter of Carlism, church and reactionary interests. Her sister Francisca, Titular Queen of Spain, 
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wife of Carlos, died in 1834.
On 15th January 1837, the Cortes of Spain legislated her excluded from the Spanish succession, rights belonging to her in descent from her mother, on grounds of her being a rebel along with Don Carlos. Her son Sebastião's rights were similarly excluded, but he was later, in 1859, restored in Spain. Also don Carlos' sons and Teresa's brother Miguel I of Portugal were excluded at the same law.
The next year she married again, in 1838, to her brother-in-law, uncle and longtime ally, Infante Carlos of Spain (1788–1855), whom she viewed as the rightful king of Spain; the widower of her sister Maria Francisca. The second marriage remained childless, but she took care of her stepsons, who were also her nephews and cousins.
They soon left Spain because of unsuccess in the civil war, and never returned. She died in Trieste on 17th January 1874, having survived her second husband by nineteen years.
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tiny-librarian · 6 years
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Royal Birthdays for today, June 11th:
Anne Neville, Queen of England, 1456
Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France, 1726
Fabiola, Queen of Belgium, 1928
Henrik, Prince Consort of Denmark, 1934
Alois, Hereditary Prince of Liechtenstein, 1968
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tiny-librarian · 6 years
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Detail of the 1743 portrait of the Family of Philip V of Spain, by  Louis-Michel Van Loo.
L-R: Louise Elisabeth of France, Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Maria Antonia Ferdinanda of Spain, and Maria Amalia of Saxony.
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tiny-librarian · 7 years
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Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France.
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tiny-librarian · 7 years
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Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France.
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tiny-librarian · 5 years
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Madame Royale was an honourific generally used for the eldest living unmarried daughter of the King of France, and seems to have originated with the monarchs of the House of Bourbon. It was held until the death of the King, or until the Princess married, when it would often pass on to her younger sister (If she had one). 
Some of the official holders of the title were as follows:
Elisabeth of France, eldest daughter of Henry IV and Marie de Medici.
Christine Marie of France, second daughter of Henry IV and Marie de Medici.
Henrietta Maria of France, third daughter of Henry IV and Marie de Medici.
Marie Thérèse of France, third daughter of Louis XIV and Maria Theresa of Spain.
Louise Elisabeth of France, eldest daughter of Louis XV and Maria Leszczyńska.
Marie Thérèse of France, eldest daughter of Louis Ferdinand de France and  Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain.
Marie Zéphyrine of France, eldest daughter of Louis Ferdinand de France and Maria Josepha of Saxony.
Marie Therese Charlotte of France, eldest daughter of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.
See the following for more information/other holders of the title
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tiny-librarian · 2 years
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A young Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, future Dauphine of France, painted by Louis Michel van Loo.
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tiny-librarian · 5 years
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Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France.
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tiny-librarian · 7 years
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Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France.
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tiny-librarian · 7 years
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The funeral of Maria Teresa Rafaela of Spain, Dauphine of France. She was the first wife of Louis Ferdinand, the only surviving son of Louis XV.
She died three days after giving birth to a daughter, Marie Therese, who only lived for a year. Louis was forced to remarry immediately after his wife’s death in order to provide an heir to the throne.
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