The morning had just risen all around them, in the territories of northern Russia, the sun, which warmed up with its rays everything that was beneath it had risen.
This included for the most part the castle and Moscow, its capital, which at that hour of the morning had just begun to show signs of his city life.
Prince Aleksei lay in his bed, on top of the blanket, despite the fact that he was already dressed and well prepared for the day.
He lay on top of his bed, one of his arms resting behind his head.
His hair, soft, curly and black, crushed by the pressure that his arm exerted on his head, tickled his face.
The atmosphere seemed silent, except that the tips of his boots of firm leather, rarely beat lightly but with anguish on the lower part of his precious wooden bed.
The sun came into his room through the thin curtains, beat on his face and this made him nervous, made him even more distressed.
-Aleksei- a voice called him from the deep thinking, from the reflections and notable ideas, it woke him up, led him to quickly shake his head, almost amazed.
-Oy, Aleksei, should I worry about you? Brother...lying there in that position without saying anything for at least a few twenty minutes, should I worry?-.
The prince moved his face, placed it, slightly to the side of the room with less light, from where the voice was coming, turned his eyes, brown and deep towards that noise.
-Brother, I was just thinking...the situation in England, you read the newspapers, I can guess you know what I'm talking about ...-.
Dimitri Romanov, older brother of the prince was also with him in his room, they talked, reflected, but mostly the situation had changed into a greater silent scene, since, reflecting too much, the two had distanced themselves from each other.
Aleksei and his brother did not look alike in the slightest, not only because Dimitri was a few years older, but also because, while he had inherited everything from their mother: the same hair color, the same fascinating and deep eyes, Prince Aleksei had inherited almost everything from his father.
Dimitri thought, sitting on a chair, he sat, pressing his back against the precious padded back, he loved to reflect as his legs were crossed, one on top of the other.
He played with his own short, brown hair, of a mixed color between hazelnut brown and sweet caramel, his brother reflected.
Sometimes he looked at his older brother and wondered, why he could not look more like him.
Not that Aleksei wasn't already good-looking, but apparently all the most attractive genes had fallen into the genetics of his older brother, this was enough to make hundreds of girls fall at his feet.
Aleksei was more withdrawn and reserved and rather than appearing attractive to the girls at court he loved to read, and had read so much and with such fury that he soon created two deep and dark circles under his brown eyes.
-I know what it means...it mean that you haven't forgotten Isabelle yet, haven't you?- ventured his brother, rubbing two of his fingers against his chin, in an act of great wisdom -more than anything else I worry about you, Aleksei, who knows from how long you don't share your bed with a woman...-.
This affirmation was enough to make Aleksei sit on the comfortable and soft mattress.
He wrinkled his nose, and Dimitri knew him well and every time his upturned nose wrinkled, he knew right away that he had touched a sore spot in him.
-This means...- Aleksei added, underlining every word, which slowly came out of his lips -... it means that Isabelle tried to kill me, with a dagger and it seems this is not already a notable affront for our father, for declare war on her...-.
Dimitri punctuated his brother's anger with a slight arrogant smile.
He knew he was the oldest and therefore their father's favorite, but he also knew on the other hand how much their parent, now already elderly, had to suffer for the death of their older brother, Vassily.
From that time on, the sovereign had begun to experience a sort of prolonged anxiety for his own children, ordering all the attendants that the two were not allowed to leave the castle walls.
There were just the two of them left to carry on a family and they were too precious for their father to lose.
Dimitri took his careful gaze from his younger brother, placed it on something else, on the void, on the rest of the room.
It was relatively small to belong to a prince, much smaller than his for sure, and inside it was equally well arranged with furniture of a very fine workmanship, perhaps the best feature of which was the beautiful four-poster bed of his brother.
That wood, so precious, with that good chestnut smell, the fresh sheets, it was simply sublime.
-You must accept that our father is old now, but do not have the hope, however, that with my reign I will start arming soldiers and armoury, just to please you brother...-.
Aleksei threw himself back onto the surface of the bed, onto the soft but heavy blankets, his dark curls bouncing lightly on the soft surface, then rested again around his face.
The door to his room opened, letting their mother enter the room with a certain delicate innocence.
She was perfect, as always: her long brown hair neatly groomed falling on her back, her pale face, reddened on the cheeks from the winter cold, her eyes, warm and blue and her slight smile, who slowly turned from one child to another.
-Mother...- both princes had the respect to bend down when their parent arrived.
No matter where they were, what they were doing or saying, when a sovereign entered a room it was not considered an alternative, but rather, an obligation to greet with respect.
-What brings you here? Mother, to bring us such great joy in your visit-.
Dimitri's dialogues had completely changed, he was no longer so arrogant now, he was no longer provoking his brother, not now that their mother had come to visit them.
-Only the concern, my beloved children, the love of a mother, eager to know how her two children are feeling at this moment...-.
Their mother's name was Anne and she was so much younger than their father, so much more beautiful, so much more full of life and affection, so much more like Dimitri than him.
It was a strange relationship with their mother, strange, because, although living in the Russian territories since her teenage years, despite being the wife of the Tsar of all the Russias, that woman had never liked to express herself in that language, so the dialogues with her were always spoken in her native language, in English.
-How long, mother?- Aleksei asked -how long has our father decided to keep us locked in here? Prisoners of our own castle...-.
The queen slowly shook her head with delicacy, she did not want to give false hope to her children, she had never wanted it.
-Some more weeks, months, maybe...until the situation has calmed down...-.
The prince quickly shook his head, he was agitated, nervous.
For weeks Aleksei had been a prisoner of his own castle, he had escaped prisoner from Isabelle, only to end up imprisoned by his own father, in his own castle.
He had waited so long for their mother's visit, so long for the good news, so much certainty that it would all be over.
He began to tremble, slowly, then faster and with more and more energy.
It was unfair, all of that was unfair. His father did not understand him, his older brother did not understand him, now also his mother...
The prince wrapped his hands around his arms, his fingers, he pushed them to his skin.
-Aleksei, my son, what happens to you?- the woman stretched one of his hands towards his face, it was light, delicate, fine, he felt, in his touch, simple but delicate, that she loved him.
Aleksei also felt the pressure, his brother's envious gaze on his face, his sadness, his arrogance.
What was that pressure? A man could cry right? It was normal.
-I feel...simply...tired...mother- explained the prince between one of his sobs and the other -no one wants justice for me, nobody has bothered to save me from that situation, mother...-.
The woman hugged her son's body to her, pushed him to her shoulder, she wanted to calm him down, that situation, that stress, she understood it was too much for him.
Anne Patterson dipped her hands into her son's black curls, squeezed them, caressed them, they were soft, they smelled good, they were her son's hair.
-You haven't been out for weeks, I understand your frustration- the woman admitted.
-Everything will change, I will personally discuss it with your father, I promise you, ya lyublyu tebya moy syn-.
Aleksei could not believe it, his mother, that woman, had spoken Russian for the first time in many years in front of her children, although she did not love it, the only time she had done so was to admit to her own son how much she loved him.
Aleksei smiled, his tears were dried by a smile, it was no longer cold.
-ya lyublyu tebya mat '-.
"I love you too mother".