The truth

It was an usual spring morning, but from a certain point of view it didn't seem like it.

Nothing seemed the same anymore, his young life never seemed the same, not since Rudolph had discovered the truth.

For months he had lived in the huge ducal palace in Belfast, located on the coast of the Irish Sea, his mother's original palace, on the one hand he was not happy to be there.

Rudolph didn't care how beautiful the weather was outside, how much the sun's rays caressed his face every morning or how much the calm and sweet sound of nature, trees, sea water became more and more persistent in his life.

Nothing interested him anymore, nothing, more than going home to Scotland and fighting alongside his father.

He did not understand why his father had sent him away, a father, who had always passed himself off as his, he was very angry, both with him, and also with his maternal aunt, who at that time had taken it upon himself to bring him back at home with her.

It did not matter…

The young lord sat every day in the library, behind a table and observed the sea, he wrote, he watched as the sun touched the clear waters and thought, that that immense land of crystalline water would lead him back home to Scotland.

It had been years now since he had lived in the palace, but he still wanted to return to his fortress.

Rudolph would have already had to accept the company of other young nobles of his own age, take part in a society and discuss, while drinking tea, with others how the economy was functioning in those times.

But he didn't feel like it, he loved being alone and the fewer people approached him, the more he felt better, more protected.

His maternal grandparents had been kind to him, kind to accept him within the walls of their palace, but immediately the boy had felt that this was not his place, that it was not his home, not as much as Scotland always had been.

Nobody was to go near him, because he, he only Rudolph Whiteblossom was sure he could ruin anything.

So he sat, in his most beautiful age behind a desk, watching the sea, how it moved, what noise and salty smell emitted by its low and cold waves.

His fingers were tapping slowly on the desk, normally he would have drawn such a beautiful landscape, normally, but after it happened, after the announced start of the war, nothing was the same as before, he didn't draw anymore.

Rudolph was there, simply, enjoying the last rays of the afternoon sun to caress his pale face, his freckled cheeks, the fresh salty air filling his nostrils and the humidity of the air to wet his dark red hair with auburn reflections.

He had seen different paintings of his mother in the palace, although he himself had no memory of what she was like.

His grandparents had always kept the paintings of their deceased daughter inside, in a section, in the inner part of the library and this was another opportunity for Rudolph to feel closer to the mother who had brought him into the world, but that he he had never known.

One thing had occurred to him, and this was that he didn't look incredibly similar to his biological mother, nor to his adoptive father.

Who was he? Who was his biological father and where was he at that moment?

There were so many questions in his young head, and at that moment he was so busy thinking that he didn't feel at all the presence of another person in his own room.

He heard it first through the sounds, from the fact that she had placed a plate in front of him.

Rudolph could smell the fresh vegetables, he perceived the smell of the meat, which had been placed on the plate, everything was hot, he could smell it from the clouds of white steam that the food produced.

The young lord turned his gaze, opened his grey eyes, it was her aunt, she had come to him that evening.

She held her long ginger red hair, scented with a thousand fragrances of flowers, along her back, in a braid and smiled, sincerely, watching her nephew with her big black eyes.

Dorotea looked a lot like Abigail, more than a normal sister, that was perhaps why his father liked her, because in a certain way, those colours and smells of the woman reminded him of his deceased wife.

-You have to eat, Rudolph... - she told him pushing gently the plate under his eyes -you always eat quite little, if you continue like this you will end up getting sick, what do you think your father would say?-.

His father? Who was his father? The young lord no longer knew it in a certain sense, he did not know who had generated him and he did not like to consider as a "father" a man who at his farewell had treated him in such a cold and cruel way.

Rudolph took his face in his hands, he was tired, in those days heavy dark circles had appeared under his eyes, he was afraid of war, he could not even sleep anymore.

-I'm not hungry... - the young lord lied -and I don't even have a father anymore... -.

Hearing all those smells, Rudolph almost felt like he was getting better, he did not want to eat and every time he did, he had the imminent instinct of having to reject everything he had eaten from his body again.

He assumed his stomach was so wasted it was starting to eat itself.

Dorothea smiled in embarrassment, it was as if she knew what Rudolph was talking about and she knew, in all terror, what that situation would lead to.

-What are you saying? Your father loves you more than anything else, you know...-.

-Why then he did insist so much on sending me away? Certain things would certainly not be what a lord and a father, normally does...-.

The woman smiled, she wanted in every way to avoid uncomfortable arguments, she certainly didn't want to reveal everything to the boy, not so soon and no more than he already knew, so in a moment of insecurity, the maternal instinct came to the woman to embrace his boy.

Dorothea pressed his head to her breasts, dipped his hands, his fingers in the soft auburn hair of the young man, began to caress his hair, they were soft, but in a certain sense it was strange, as if those did not exactly remember the hair of the her deceased sister.

-I beg you, eat nephew, I'm afraid that hunger puts certain nonsense questions and affirmations in your head-.

Rudolph looked at the sea, the sun gleaned over the clear waters and in sequence its reflection was gleaned again his grey eyes.

The sun was getting smaller and smaller behind the surface of the sea, the sky was slowly turning pink and ginger orange, typical of the sunset.

And it was right there, in front of the final cold sigh of sunset that Rudolph then asked the question.

-Say, beloved aunt, say then, do it for your own nephew, who is my father? Who gave me life? Who put me in my mother's womb?-.

At that question Dorothea stopped the affection, stopped her feelings, stopped her hands from caressing the soft hair and sweet face of the boy.

She didn't want to tell Rudolph more than he already knew, not in the way, however, that truly revealed the identity of Gilbert, his biological father.

But Rudolph was now almost a young adult and he certainly already knew how children were born, what was necessary, that fatherhood, as well as motherhood, were in fact the consequence of an intimate act of love.

But while many people were desired at their birth or wanted and thought of during their conception, no one had ever really wanted or desired his birth. In fact, up until the second month, no one had suspected that Abigail was carrying a baby, not until the belly began to grow with the baby inside it and although Dorothea had been relatively young at that time she had repeatedly heard Abigail confide to her mother, through the letters.

She had read all of them and had noticed how the paper in that time was always stained by humidity of tears.

Abigail was afraid of giving birth to that child, who now was a boy in his teenage, she had him in front of her eyes, but she remembered positively that after his birth his older sister had loved him more than anything, more than her life.

Although Gilbert loved Abigail and despite that love had been reciprocated that night, Dorothea knew they weren't made for each other, she had always known it.

-Juniper is your father, I don't think it's necessary to ask further...- she admitted moving away from him with a sort of nervousness.

-But I didn't ask who my adoptive father is... - Rudolph repeated between his teeth, he had begun to get nervous.

-I want to know who my father is, damn!- he got up from the table, punched the hard flat surface of it, it hurt, it hurt, but the pain wasn't the only thing he couldn't take at that moment .

-Tell me...I beg you, aunt...- the young lord's voice had begun to tremble, his eyes, large and of a clear grey, had started to weep slowly.

Dorothea sighed, she too looked at the sea, at the sun, which was still slowly beginning to set, closed her eyes.

Why was it necessary to continue to hold all that tension, all that drama, was it not the Rudolph's right to know who his biological father was?

It would not have been so difficult, it would have been enough to say only a name, a surname and he would have understood, but that name was difficult for her to say, because it was the name of a person who had brought something bad to her family, he had hurt her sister's feelings.

-Gilbert Stanley, that's what you want to know, right? Who put you in your mother's womb, is this name is enough for you?-.

Rudolph was impressed and in a way he felt even worse now, now that he knew the truth, when he alone thought that knowing him he would feel better and more relieved.

He looked down at the desk, now he felt bad, much worse than before, he felt his tears, falling from his eyes, falling on his hands, on his fingers.

He no longer smelled his hot meal, not now that his heart had started beating even faster.

How could it be, he couldn't believe it, his biological father, the one from whom he had completely inherited his appearance, he was exactly the prince consort.

Even more disturbing was the fact that he had been murdered within the castle walls, with a massive dagger that had pierced his heart, Rudolph knew by heart, from contemporary history.

He was afraid, so afraid, whoever had done it certainly would probably not exist to reserve the boy the same treatment as the Prince consort Gilbert.

-Many years have passed since then, if I were you I would not let your mind be too influenced by the fact...- Dorothea knew she had made a mistake, Rudolph was an intelligent boy, but it would never have been known if he would have decided out of rancor to take revenge.

-Juniper is your father, nephew, because although he did not generate you from his body, he always loved you like a son, despite knowing very well who your father really was...- even the black eyes of the woman had now started to become wet with tears, her voice started to tremble, but she didn't want to show her nephew his weakness, so she just wiped the tears from her eyes.

-Eat, please, you will need strength, a war is about to begin...- Dorothea admitted putting a faint smile on her face and caressing the young lord's shoulders with her fingertips.

Rudolph waited to be left alone, he loved being alone, he always had been.

He took a forkful of food, put it quickly in his mouth, it was still hot but it was very good, also because in those days he was literally starving, in the throes of an teenage crisis.

He swallowed, repeated and repeated faster and faster, his heart was beating fast, he was hungry and afraid, most of all in that moment, he felt guilty for doubting his true father, Juniper.

His breathing had become desperate as he prepared to eat, salty and cold tears streaming from his eyes onto her cheeks and then onto his hands.

It was so good to be satiated again, he must have strength, if one day he would rule the lands of Scotland, if one day, really, he would go back to his father.