Rudolph

With the birth of the child everyone soon prepared to visit him, some out of tenderness, some out of curiosity.

It was June 17, 1731 at the time and on that day under the sign of gemini, Rudolph Whiteblossom, son of the general and deceased Prince consort Gilbert Stanley and duchess Abigail Dallas, had come into the world.

His mother was proud of him, of his son, of how small and peaceful and beautiful he was.

Although born in marriage, but from a different father as Juniper, as a birth title, Abigail preferred to give him her own official title of Duke of Ireland, a decision that had affected most of the people to whom this was communicated.

They didn't know Juniper wasn't actually the father and so it was a surprise for them to realize this.

In any case after the weaning of the child planned by the two towards the end of the first year of age, the young newly married couple would soon work on the conception of a second child.

For the goodness of the baron, however, the newborn, although not his son, would always have remained in line of succession to him, once the army had freed Scotland again.

In any case, the little one needed time and energy to grow and so it was that, with the help of specialized nurses, the first meal of the newborn Rudolph was applied to the mother's breast.

Abigail loved that feeling, her closeness to her son, she loved seeing the small and reddened cheeks of little Rudolph swell with sweet mother's milk and deflate, swallowing it.

She would have liked to raise her son like this, she would have liked to hold him close to her, to breastfeed him but she knew all this was impossible.

Moreover, Rudolph was the son of a lord and as such it was a rule that from the earliest months the care of the baby was entrusted to a nurse and no longer to the mother.

On the other hand, Abigail had fulfilled her task of giving birth to a child this was already enough but for her it was not like that.

She knew Rudolph would miss her, she knew in her heart since his little body had slipped out of her, that he still needed her.

-It's so small- confessed the young duchess hugging her son and noticing as in drinking her sweet and warm milk the baby ended up falling asleep -only ten hours have passed since his birth, the sun has gone down, but still not I manage to take my gaze away from him...- Abigail admitted hinting a faint smile with her soft pink lips.

Juniper understood his wife's concern so he gently placed one of his hands on her shoulder.

-Don't worry, you can still visit the baby any time you want and besides it will only be for the first years of life- Juniper consoled her slowly and gently taking the little baby in his arms.

-He was born in the eighth month and weighs only three kilos- said Abigail seeing her husband cradle the little sleeping baby in his arms -please let the nurse breastfeed him three times a day, at least for make him gain weight-.

Abigail understood Juniper was right, that this distance would only be short and not rigid but she was concerned in every way for the well being of her newborn.

-Don't worry- Juniper tried again to calm her down -we will pay this woman well every day, so that she feeds and takes care of the baby- he ended up explaining by walking away this time with the baby in his arms and slowly letting the attendants open the door.

-Now, however, you will be tired, it is now nine in the evening and you should try to gain rest- Juniper reassured her as if reassured by the faint smile that his wife gave him.

He noticed how almost by force she rested her profile on the soft and comfortable pillow and noticed that her long red hair fell wavy and disheveled up on the white mattress. Juniper felt ready to leave the room with his adoptive son in his arms.

He looked at him for a long time, he was cute, he was small and smelled good like fresh bread pulled out of the oven in the morning.

But although he had all these good and sweet characteristics, Juniper felt a certain detachment towards the little one as he knew that the child he held in his arms was not his son.

He was to take the baby to one of the royal nurses, he had promised it to his bride and he wanted to do it.

Little Rudolph needed to regain weight, he was small and still too light even for a newborn of a few hours.

The newborn's body from head to toe already measured 45 centimeters but his weight was far too little for a baby like him.

The appointment with his nurse would be held in the large room reserved for servants but before he could enter through the door, his cousin stood in front of him.

-I just wanted to see the baby...- pleaded the princess as if in a severe withdrawal crisis -only once-.

Juniper on his behalf wasn't exactly confident and enthusiastic, as he hugged the baby closer to his body.

-Excuse me- the Baron apologised turning a quick glance at the little adoptive son, at his auburn red hair, at the small and sweet half-closed lips -I'm sorry, but now I don't think it's possible, Rudolph is resting-.

At that statement the young woman was quite disappointed as if for the first time in her life someone had denied her something.

The princess seemed worried, almost anxious about this denied encounter.

-Tell at least which nurse you intend to entrust him to...- Isabelle begged trying as much as possible to observe the little sleeping body -he looks so much like Gilbert, like his biological father...I can't help it-.

At that strange affirmation cold shivers rose on the young man's back.

Was it possible that what the cousin felt for the baby was like an addiction? As if it were really her own son?

-I am carrying a baby in my womb, also from Gilbert, who will be born in a few months now- she insistently continued to pray hoping the answer would change, at least in the slightest -you don't want Rudolph to live without being able to spend time with his own younger brother...-.

At this statement Juniper looked down, it was a difficult choice but he would never have dared to make a decision by not consulting the baby's mother and so, despite everything, he slowly shook his head.

-Rudolph is still little- explained the baron trying to chase his cousin in front of him but not succeeding -let him grow up, he will decide for himself who to hang out with...- the baron surpassing the body of the disappointed young woman.

He knew Isabelle was on the verge of protesting or screaming in anger, as she was used to having everything she wanted.

But she did not, she remained silent, watching in disappointment as her cousin take away the little one.

Rudolph was not a doll, but a human child, Isabelle got to understand it.

At the same time, in the west wing of the castle, right next to the room where the Marquis Francis Hoover was, a room for Brooklyn had been set up as soon as possible.

It was quite small, noticeably narrower but Brooke had gotten used to it, she had been living there for two months and it was now like a small apartment for her.

She owned a large bed in precious oak wood, she possessed a high chest with a large and rectangular mirror, surrounded by a precious cherry wood cornice.

And now she was there, in front of her mirror, as she held a curly tuft of her black hair in one hand, she held inside her mouth, gripped between her teeth the short bright red ribbon that she used to tie her hair.

She was tired and as it had been a hard day, she just wanted to relax and finally go to bed.

Brooke briefly caressed her hair and in a quick move she pulled the bandage she held tightly from her breasts.

She wanted to relax but in all this chaos she was so angry.

She watched her sweet mulatto face get angry and redden, because on that deep, dark night she had actually read the news which would soon change her life.

It was unexpected news, a letter, sent directly to her by her older brothers, a letter that had communicated one of the greatest changes in her life.

They had thus decided, as a pact to enter into agreements with their centuries-old alliance, the family of the counts of Southern Ireland.

Brooke had read and reread the letter, panicked.

She would soon marry the eldest of the Dustin twins, William.

Certainly she could not be sorry about their decision, nor about the economic intelligence of her brothers, because it was said that Dustin's house was so rich that pure gold ran through their veins.

But the real problem was that for everybody lord Brooklyn was a boy and therefore, with William Dustin being heterosexual it have sounded particular to all that a lord was thus betrothed to another lord.

She should have found a solution as soon as possible, but she still didn't know how.

Brooke threw herself on the bed, her curly hair circling her head until it fell disheveled on the bed and on the white blankets.

It was just after ten in the evening when Brooklyn decided to act.

She was now in a complicated situation, she was soon to marry count William Dustin, despite being recognised as a man in his eyes.

She certainly knew that after the so-called "disappearance" of her father, all three of her older half-brothers, never used to governing and managing a house, had soon fallen into misery.

This was written on the letter sent by her mother.

And to rectify the great economic crisis which soon took over from Stanley, there would be nothing better than a connection with the richest family the empire had ever known.

The Dustins, probably in the task of finding a worthy wife for the two youngest of their children had accepted to offer financial aid to house Stanley, both for its strategic position and at the cost of giving up the young girl of the house.

Most of the Dustin's children were born male, and most of those were already married and with children, but the matter remained with the younger heirs of that house.

The twins William and Dickon Dustin.

Her mother had already begged her for forgiveness, to understand that everything she had done was only an act of economic sacrifice and that Brooke should have done everything to make her future husband happy, even sexual favours if necessary.

On the other hand, that must have been the purpose of the Dustins, partially also of the Stanleys perhaps, to receive an heir of noble blood in order to finally be able to close the contract between the two families.

But Brooklyn seriously didn't understand how her mother could think of manipulating and deciding her life as a puppeteer does with his own creations.

This she could not understand and it made her angry that someone was ordering her what to do.

On the other hand, conceiving a baby was not difficult and Brooke was still young but this was not a game at all.

She wanted to have a family when she wanted to and with whom she wanted to, but certainly not by order or command.

She was now standing in front of the mirror which lay silently on the wooden chest.

The room around her was cold and dark, and the darkness was faintly muffled by the faint light of the candles, which slowly melted.

Her curly black hair fell to her shoulders, it was soft, it was puffy, she had tried to sleep but she couldn't.

Her blue eyes stood out on her delicate mulatto face.

She looked at her image reflected in the mirror, the wound on her right eye which she had created with brambles, had healed and with a certain pallor made her face a little more fearful.

She went downtown with Francis sometimes, she professed words of revolution and freedom, which had long since become the people's beliefs.

It had become famous with the name of the "black bramble", because it was actually a plant that could cut with its thorns if necessary but produced juicy fruits, and the black colour had been attributed to it for the dark cloak that at night, that they used to hide themselves.

She had now become the guru of many and she had come to the point that many men had slowly decided to follow her cause.

This made her happy, because on the one hand it included every member of society being part of something unique.

On June 20, 1731, next Monday, the first popular revolution was planned, which in reality had a completely different purpose.

On the night of June 20, as the people began to express their disagreement against tyranny and every city guard was busy suppressing the revolution, Brooklyn would secretly enter the city's prisons and set Prince Henry free.

Brooke had never met that man but she knew that he had a good character and charisma and certainly with the release of that man, the prisoner prince, the people would be more motivated to follow their cause.

The young woman had bought with little money, a place for a clandestine ship that would take the prince to the coasts of France, and there, by prior notice, he would be welcomed and brought to Paris at the royal court of his late mother's family.

Everything was already planned and there were already hundreds of people willing to protest for their cause.

But all this was demanding and the event was only two days away and that was why she would have no more time to think about a wedding.

On the other hand she was now in this uncomfortable situation, and like always, she had to find a way to get out of it.

And she had to do it in the best possible way, that was her only hope.

She took a second look at her face, she couldn't stand it, she had never really done it.

Even though she had cut her own hair and owned men's clothes, she continued despite herself to possess still too feminine features.

On the other hand, what could she still do to look like what he wanted?

She was angry with the stupid ideas and the false cunning of her brothers with the Dustin family. Why did they have to be so filthy rich?

She could no longer see herself in the mirror, in her anger, she threw a strong punch at it emitting a loud noise and causing much of the central part of the object to collapse into pieces.

A thousand small fragments of glass had fallen to the ground and a thousand, broken up there, disfigured her face reflected in it.

Her hands ached now, a long cut had formed on her knuckles and it was spewing blood, as usual one of her stupid ideas.

-Lord Brooklyn- a worried-looking male voice made itself heard beyond the woody chestnut door -is everything fine? Did something happen?-.

Great, she thought, her noise must have worried one of the attendants, who went back to their rooms in the evening.

She had to get rid of him, as soon as possible, as well as her blood.

Brooklyn quickly began to suck the leaking blood into her mouth, between her lips and as best she could she managed to deny it all to the worried man.

-Don't worry, good man- she explained with her and male voice -everything is perfect-.

She heard the footsteps of him walking away in the dark, perfect, it was a good sign.

The twins' room was a couple of rooms away from her, and it wouldn't take too long to reach it.

Before she had to think about her health though, so she slowly grabbed some of the bandages she hid at the bottom of her cherry bedside table and tightly tied it to her hand over her knuckles.

Now everything was fine, she no longer felt as much pain as she felt before but she had no time to waste, she had to act.

She left her room and slowly through the dark and dark corridors she moved with agility towards the room of the two Dustins.

The corridor was dark except for a few oil lamps that had remained alight during the night.

She gave two weak strokes with her left hand on the heavy door of the two without receiving an answer for the first time.

He heard the dry and agile passage of the bare feet of one approach the door and slowly open it.

Brooklyn found herself in front of one of the two brothers, she could not quite understand which of the two it was but in any case she managed to notice that the red-haired boy was at least ten centimeters taller than her.

Everything around her was dark and it was thus possible for her to notice the W sewn with precious golden thread on his white shirt and she understood that it was William himself.

-Good evening, lord Brooklyn- he started talking sketching a small and arrogant smile on his pale face covered by dark freckles -I would say it's a surprise to make your acquaintance here and at a certain hour of the night ...-.

The young woman did not seem to understand very much the malicious humour of the young man, so she confined herself to clutching her white shirt to her chest and looking around her, almost with an embarrassed and frightened air.

-May I come in?- came out of her soft lips almost like a whisper to which the young count moved away from the door to leave the passage free.

Entering the twins' room, Brooke soon noticed how it was literally bigger and with more valuable supplies than hers and at this sight a slight envy rose in her body.

She noticed, in the left corner of the room, slightly illuminated by the light of the oil lamp, the body of Dickon Dustin.

She noticed how much he resembled his brother.

-Good evening- he mentioned still at the time lying in his bed and under his own covers, still too sleepy to understand what was happening.

Brooklyn was able to perceive, from the look, from the way he posed and spoke, from Dickon's sincere smile, that he was definitely more kind and good-natured than his twin.

She smiled back at him.

-You know Lord Brooklyn, there are rumours, completely false, I suppose...- William interrupted that short silence, who at the same time had taken advantage of the time lost between the two to compositely sit on the cool blankets of his bed.

-It was written to me about our possible engagement, but you will understand well, not for judging you,I cannot and do not want to marry a man- that one passed with speed and cunning his pale and agile fingers to fiddle with the top of the sheet on which he sat.

Brooke nodded quickly, it was more difficult than she thought also because William had managed to put his own back against the wall, in a seriously difficult situation.

-You see, it was about this subject that I wanted to talk to you- Brooke began paying attention to the words she used -I wanted to talk to you about how what you have heard is a lie-.

An insistent and curious silence gave the young woman some time to find the right words.

-In reality, from birth, my name is not Brooklyn but Diane and I'm not born as a lord, I'm and identify as a lady-she concluded closing both her big blue eyes while her dark face was filled with one strange redness.

Those words were followed by a brief silence and then a powerful and thunderous laugh from William, who, taken by the unlikely situation, thought that Brooke was joking.

Dickon on his side had turned totally red, ashamed of his brother's rude attitude, he watched him with fear, begged him to stop.

-Please, William- he begged hiding the lower half of his face with a part of his blanket -it is not polite to laugh like this in front of somebody's face-.

Brooke noticed Dickon's shyness and sensitivity and she immediately thought how difficult it had been for him.

She was aware that the members of the Dustin family were all of an impeccable education, so looking back it could be that William was the only one with that bad temper in the family.

Anyway Brooke pursed her lips in a grimace, she could not bear that someone mocked her or did not believe her words and so she said to herself that if he had to be be so vulgar then she would soon be teaching him a lesson.

With a quick movement of her hands she untied her bandages that pressed over her breasts and once they were on the ground, the young woman promptly grabbed two sides of her shirt and quickly lifted it up to her neck.

Immediately two breasts were noticed, well formed, quite prominent, and at that sight both twins acquired a sudden blush, so much so that William immediately stopped his laughing dipping one of his hands into his tawny hair.

-Now you can believe me- Brooke without feeling any shame for her nakedness but rather happy with her actions and that someone believed her.

Brooke passed quickly, in the darkness of the room the struck and excited looks of both twins.

William from his side, as soon as he saw the young woman's breasts, taken from the situation, had no problem starting with agility to untie the laces, which on his belly, tightened his pants to his body he started touching himself.

Seeing this Brooklyn she nimbly lowered his shirt and put it into his brown silk trousers, and returning to look from one to the other of the Dustins and especially to William, whose masturbation had been ruined.

-Keep your pants closed, William, nothing is going to happen here-.