On that sunny but cold winter morning, when the sun came lightly with its light through the large, clear windows, Brooklyn, just then, was in her room.
She was bent over the white chamber pot of fine manufacture, and threw into it very large quantities of vomit, of food, which she had ingested in the previous hours.
No one was there to help her, so the poor woman had to find herself alone in that situation, having to manage it all.
With one hand she held her coal-black curly and relatively long hair, close and away from her face.
Her face, young, of a light dark colour, delicate, shone with a pale complexion, paler than usual.
In the time that had passed in those days, her belly had begun to swell, until it had taken the roundness of a melon.
It was completely too big to be in the third month of her pregnancy, too round, but not only that had changed in her.
Her breasts, previously easier to hide under her shirt, were also swollen, so much so that her bandages could no longer hold her chest, no longer without causing her great harm.
She hated being pregnant, she hated it more than she could ever expect.
Pregnancy was tiring, stressful, and in any case, in those conditions she would soon no longer be able to hold a rifle and fight for the revolution.
Brooke had never really wished in her life to become a mother and in any case, having conceived it in such a brutal way did not bring a good memory to her.
As painful as the idea might seem to her, she had thought several times, once and for all, of resorting to abortion.
On the other hand, by going to town and paying a certain and high sum to a doctor, she could have removed that child from her womb without too much time and pain.
But something about it had always stopped her, she didn't know what or why, but something about it, a strength stronger than her always told her to rethink about it.
The baby she was carrying was not wanted, she had never wanted all that.
Being the youngest of four brothers and having spent her early teens in a convent, she had never been taught how to take care of a child, so she didn't even know what to expect.
Someone knocked on the door, two firm knocks, strong enough to draw her attention.
In a short time she found herself in front of whom at that moment she would least have expected.
-P... Prince Aleksei?-the young woman turned her face towards the man who had just entered the room.
Although she, in principle against the monarchy, she had to admit that at that time the prince of Russia was showing himself to the world in a completely stupendous, extraordinary way.
Aleksei had inherited the curly, black hair, almost shoulder-length, of the same color as his father, but he physiologically resembled his mother much more.
-I'm sorry to have entered your room...I... I really don't know what got into me today...- she heard a certain note of sad and angry melancholy in the 25-year-old prince's voice.
Brooklyn empathy for him, she knew those feelings, anger, loneliness, which then being part of a royal family were strongly amplified.
You were born and raised just to be educated and molded to the expectations of the family, all this critical pressure, it didn't have to be easy at all.
In addition, since one of the prince's two elder brothers had died in the war, the situation of the royals in Russia had drastically worsened, bringing back, in any case, both sovereigns to turn their youngest son to court, to be able to keep him safe in every way.
Either way Brooke watched how soon the prince's desolate look turned to one of awe and compassion as he saw her condition as soon as he could see her growing belly.
-You are pregnant...- admitted Aleksei, as the young woman could perceive in the eyes of the prince that he felt a very strong compassion for her and also amazement -Who is the father? And above all have you not thought about taking precautions? If my cousin knew about it it would be big trouble for you and for the child...-.
But Isabelle already knew about Brooke's pregnancy, she knew, Dickon knew, so did Johanna Cross, and so too had the person, of whom this was the absolute fault.
-It is difficult to take precautions when you are tied to a bed, folded and incapable of any help...- Brooke replied not completely thinking about that the person she was talking to was a prince.
That argument made her angry, and even more the people who reminded it to her or criticised it, but she knew that Aleksei meant something else.
Anyway, he seemed even more shocked as he didn't know anything about what had happened to her and without wanting to offend her any more in any way, Aleksei apologised.
-I'm really really sorry...- the prince tried to apologise, lowering himself to the knees, he walked over to her, he wanted to help her throw out all the bad thoughts and feelings she carried in her heart and her head.
-I still don't know whether to keep it or not, in a sense for an economic situation, because I would not have so much money right now to allow me to have an abortion and on the other hand he or she would always be half of me and this puts my choice is in crisis...it is really not easy for me- Brooke confessed looking down at the chamber pot, remaining silent for a few seconds.
Usually only the nobles and royals could choose in their family about the life of a child, whether it was an unexpected child or an illegitimate child.
But she was her and she wasn't royal and no longer noble, everyone around her was dead: Francis, Abigail, the Dustins, her brother and this baby, in a way at that moment was the only one who kept her company in all her loneliness.
-Everything is so alone and silent, now that everyone is dead, my brother was the only one I could count on, Gilbert, he was like a fatherly figure to me, but now that he's not here anymore I don't know what to do...how to go on- confessed Brooklyn trying to hold back some last regurgitation and retching that could come out.
Aleksei faintly moved her curly black hair with one of his hands and exhaled deeply through his nose.
They were in the same boat, both cared for their brothers, and at the same time, albeit in two different ways, they felt a strong sadness and indecision.
-Run away Prince Aleksei, run away from here, while you still have time! This will be the only way you can save yourself, before it becomes impossible...- Brooklyn whispered.
She knew he was a royal, and the rebels wanted to kill them in every way.
It was like a hunt where the rebels were foxes or wolves in any way, ready to devour their prey with a single bite and the royals were the hares, who unable to do anything just had to escape.
She was giving an advice to a prince, but she didn't do it because of the high social status of Aleksei, but because she felt he was a good person, not deserving to die, that in that whirlwind of madness he had nothing to do, manipulated by his cousin and future wife.
-My work, the relations with abroad...if I escaped, all of this would remain incomplete, putting other human lives at risk...-.
-Screw your work right now!- Brooke went on leaving the other almost impressed and surprised by her worried tone and foul language -run away from here! Run away until it's too late...-.