Karlheinz Hannover, the former ruler of Great Britain had always had to defend his power from his siblings.
Of course, as long as he was alive no one would have only dared to try to oust him from the throne but from the moment of his death, for "not exactly natural" causes it was strange enough that none of his descendants had yet claimed the right to the throne.
There were stories that ran at court and it was perhaps precisely for this reason that most people believed, that for fear of losing his power, Karlheinz had somehow influenced the death of his siblings, only stupid claims...
Ernest, Duke of Hannover and father of the late John and the twins Leonhard and Marten, was the direct younger brother of the late king.
He had survived but although life had not succumbed to ruin by this point, his sweet niece, Isabelle, had taken care of the fact that, just the year before, Ernest had to mourn his eldest son.
Ernest was followed by Ella Hannover, younger sister of the sovereign, as well as the deceased mother of baron Juniper Whiteblossom.
Stories were told about Ella, about her beauty, about the rebellious characteristics not suited to a lady and most of all about the marriage that Karlheinz, her elder brother had organised with the old baron whom she could not bear.
And precisely that had led the beautiful young lady Ella to her death, when her own brother-in-law decided to bring revenge on her husband and herself, the only survivor remained her child, Juniper.
But little was known about the last of Karlheinz Hannover's siblings, Georg Hannover.
Twin brother of Ella Hannover and as the last member of the family, the least likely to become king.
Directly Georg was not a problem, not exactly, as he had died years before in the war between England and Wales but much more dangerous was what that man had left on earth.
In fact, just before the start of the war, Georg Hannover, at the time twenty years old, had, mistakenly generated a son through a love story with the young Lady Jade Jones of Wales, a young lord who had been given the name of Connor.
Of all her cousins, it could be said that this was the only one Isabelle did not yet know, and how tired of continually having to free herself from her enemies, the princess had devised a plan that would certainly lead the unknown relative to fight on her side.
She knew well that usually her skills under the covers was not in fact something that would have brought her honour if spread among the walls of the castle but that plan was an even deeper plan, which would have united the useful to the delightful.
She was desperately trying to conceive an heir who could continue her line, Connor, as far as she knew was not yet married. Since she had ended the relationship with her own servant her sex life had become a little lonely.
On the other hand Isabelle was curious to discover how that long-lost relative looked like.
Connor seemed an important name for a simple illegitimate son orphan of a father but on the other hand she had to respect him as it was true that with that immense political tension it could have been her only hope.
Isabelle knew it and it was perhaps for that very reason that at that moment she was waiting with great curiosity for the arrival of her cousin, seated in one of the armchairs inside her room.
The Jones, Connor's maternal family, were a Welsh family so noble and influential that they achieved the same fame as the Pembrokes with little effort, but the fact was that while the Pembrokes were apparently enemies of the crown, the Jones had remained neutral to the political situation for all that time.
This gave Isabelle hope, that perhaps her guest today could reconnect House Hannover with House Jones once again.
So during that morning, when the sun shone strongly on her lands, the young woman had let her attendants prepare her for the unexpected visit.
Isabelle had let them take care of her long, golden blond hair, let them make up her face and dress her in a new fine dress scented with floral fragrances.
The princess observed the huge room around her, everything was clean and in order, as her perfectionist nature loved to see but obviously she hadn't clean that room.
For those tasks there were her attendants, paid explicitly to take care of her, so that the young Isabelle did not exactly understand the usefulness of arranging herself.
She looked around her, some of her attendants that morning had washed the surface of the huge arched window of her room, thus allowing the entry of shining rays of light into the room.
The blankets of her majestic and huge bed of precious ebony wood had been changed by the attendants and replaced with a lighter alternative and at the same time smelled of fragrances of lavender and other wild flowers.
The large and huge walls were covered with oil paintings in huge gold lacquered wooden frames and on one side in the corridor that led out of the bedroom some colours from the window were projected thanks to the light on the white marble floor.
She watched those vivid colours, the bright fiery red, the pure white, the pale light blue, the wood brown of the forest, she watched those colours blend and project a magnificent figure onto the floor.
Precisely that stained glass window with thick glass and a thousand colours represented the figure of her deceased daughter, Princess Charlotte.
She missed her so much at times and inevitably every time she looked at the stained glass window dedicated to her little girl a sense of sadness hit her heart.
Everything had happened so quickly in her life: at fourteen she was already married to viscount and general Gilbert Stanley, at fifteen she had given birth to the sweetest and cutest girl she had ever seen and just five years later she had lost her to due to a terminal illness.
She still remembered all the details of the little girl, her pale skin, white as marble, the girl's cream white hair, her two lively and intelligent eyes.
She missed her so much, sometimes Isabelle went alone through the fields of the huge royal garden to the chapel where the family members were buried, she brought flowers and cried.
Yes, it was true, she too felt strong feelings invest her and in her mind the question of whether she could have been a better person, a better daughter, a better sister, a better wife and mother and inevitably the answer made her wistfully sad.
That September she would have turned twenty seven, already old enough for her marriage.
When she was still younger she remembered the words of her tutor, her teacher, that old man often used to repeat to her: "you never know when it will all end, princess, it's just a matter of time and destiny".
Although Isabelle had never been so superstitious she did not exactly believe in her destiny even though the words of that old man had always intrigued her.
She deeply believed that everything that happened in the world was connected to past actions, every action had a calculated reaction and if it really was so she knew that the end would soon come for her.
Isabelle sat neatly in the armchair and meanwhile played with a lock of her blond and wavy hair.
She was worried about her future she had to admit, it was no secret and as she thought of all future alternatives some tears began to appear in her eyes.
A few knocks banged on the surface of her heavy door bringing the loud sound to echo in the large room.
-Come in...- a whisper slowly came out of the soft lips of the princess, thus giving permission to her guests to enter the room.
She wiped away with her fingers the salty tears that at that time had formed in her eyes, wet with sadness and worry.
The princess watched her long-awaited guest, her cousin enter the room and to her surprise to discover that the one she never had a chance to meet had come out to be the most interesting and attractive person she could ever imagine.
He saw a man enter the room who at a guess was between twenty four and twenty five years old.
She noticed in a short time his great beauty, the short hair of her same golden blond colour, two big blue eyes, pale, the colour of ice and many small freckles covering the lower part of his nose and part of the cheeks.
That feeling was incredible, she had never seen that man in his life but she felt something inside her that wanted him so bad.
For a few seconds the gaze of the two met, no one spoke a word for the first few seconds.
All before the guest decided to introduce himself to the princess who was said to be her paternal cousin.
He knelt. -My lady, my name is Connor Jones but I guess you already know me...-.
Connor smiled for a brief time of a few seconds, as a look that strangely more than sincere and friendly seemed interested in something in particular that Isabelle perceived was not her.
It was strange for those times that someone defined himself with his maternal surname, this meant that something of the surname Hannover, of his own father, displeased him and the princess, however convincing she might be, knew she would have extorted it from the man's lips.
The lady in turn bowed with care and lightness, lightly pulling with the tips of her fingers the ends of her dress.
Isabelle gazed deeply into his eyes and strangely a feeling of fear began to take hold of the heart of the stone-hearted princess, because in those cold blue eyes she saw something even worse.
-Please, please take a seat...a real pleasure to make your acquaintance- the lady admitted leading her guest in her place.
Connor was mysterious and she could hear in his polite voice a sense of interest and cunning that could be definitively beating her diabolical mind.
-You have a truly adorable room, it is admirable how things are so tidy here...- the guest admitted sitting precisely on a precious and soft padded armchair.
She felt that behind the man's attitude lay a harsh education.
Isabelle understood it, that was their task after all, as nobles themselves and members of the aristocracy it was their duty to seem perfect as each of them was a representative of their respective families.
Many young lords and ladies were educated from their earliest childhood, from the age of three, to lessons in etiquette, manners and some of them had even been given corporal punishment when they did not follow the rule.
Yes, even the noble scions learned the behaviour with terror.
Not polite enough? A bang the knuckles with a wood stick. Did not walk majestically enough? Hours of exercise with a wooden pole.
It was perhaps precisely for that reason that it was really difficult if not impossible to meet a lord or lady who did not stick to etiquette.
-...I noticed, this castle is very big to live alone, don't you have any brother or sister?- Connor asked gently placing one of his hands on his knees, which lay neatly crossed.
Isabelle slowly adjusted a lock of her long, wavy golden hair behind her shoulders, as she had noticed that man had no intention of minding his own business and indeed, it seemed almost impressive that that lord knew exactly where to strike.
The lady smiled briefly, that situation was starting to get disturbingly strange so she decided to answer in the most general way possible, without going into too much detail.
-Oh no, no sister, I had two half-brothers once, unfortunately the elder and I don't have good terms and the younger has died for almost fifteen years now...-.
Isabelle noticed the cold and almost numb gaze of her own cousin descending on her, on her face, on her eyes, she secretly knew he was judging her, perhaps by the voices about her
-And you? Do you have brothers or sisters?-.
She felt the question was stupid enough as his father had died in the war before the son was born but she still hoped for a sensible answer.
Connor smiled briefly, he knew that battle of disturbing questions would not soon be fake, so he just answered it generically too -No, no brother or sister...never had one...-.
-Does it have something to do with your last name being Jones? Because your father did do something serious that you hate him for...It is not so?-.
This insensitive and unexpected question struck the man so much that his gaze, which at that moment was dispersed in the thousand details of that room, landed once again on the eyes of the princess, who innocently judged him silently.
They had known each other for such a short time and yet everything seemed so strange at that moment.
-It's not a secret then, I thought you already knew what Georg Hannover did to my mother, that I was born as a result of a rape, I thought the voice in the castles ran faster than you can imagine-.
Isabelle lowered her gaze, although she could not feel empathy, in a confession like that she must have felt a minimum of compassion as the one who performed the deed was her own uncle.
-I am immensely sorry for you, Connor, I did not imagine in any way your life could be so difficult ...- admitted the lady letting her pale and small hands touch those of the guest for a few seconds for consolation -but the past is past and in any case there is a future still waiting for us...- the princess whispered slowly and gently in the man's ear.
-Not all Hannovers are bad, you have all of me right now...oh Connor, there are so many things I want to do to you right now...- the lady slowly brought her lips closer to the man's, briefly closed her eyes, hoped for her plan, hoped he too was attracted to her, that he too wanted her so bad.
Isabelle smelled so closely the scent of the precious oil that was used in the care of men's hair, it smelled of musk, of some flowers too, less fragrant but in some way aromatic.
It was however a miracle that Connor had survived his childhood, as it was known that many of the illegitimate children of noble families, as well as children born as a result of rape were in most cases drowned in a river directly after birth.
Although the man talked about his late mother it was clear that he felt some strong bond with her, some affection for her and that the woman's feelings were probably reciprocated.
Isabelle felt the man's breath on her face, she didn't know what to do, it was a strange situation that had never happened to her.
-Connor...- came out like a whisper from the lips of the young woman -...I can not hold any longer...I want to be with you, I want you in my body so bad...our destinies are crossed, stay with me...there are so many things I want to do...-.
The man closed both of his eyes for a few moments and felt the lady's breath run with a slight coldness on his neck, her lips kiss his skin.
Connor smiled briefly, the plan was going exactly as he planned and even more she felt his victory closer when from his knees the light fingers of the girl were approaching his pants, loosen the leather belt that tightened his pants to his pelvis.
-Oh Isabelle, what do you want to do?- asked the lord full of pleasure bringing one of his hands towards the princess's neck, rubbing them weakly against it.
He felt the smooth and sweaty skin of the lady under his fingers, he felt it and the more the young woman tried to create the right situation to sleep with him, Connor himself brought his fingers closer and closer to the young woman's throat, so as to take it with strength and determination.
At first Isabelle began to believe her cousin's attitude had something to do with some sort of sexual preparation or desire but the feeling soon began to wear off as she felt the man' s strong fingers tighten around her own throat.
She was afraid, she had to admit it, for the first time someone was able to dominate her, she was not used to that feeling of weakness, it was something that in addition to hurting her made her feel in some way helpless.
-You know, I could break your neck easily, if only I wanted...- Connor admitted pushing Isabelle closer to the back of her chair, closing his hands more and more tightly around her neck.
He observed how the princess was now struggling to breathe, how she was sweating, how she clenched her white teeth in pain.
-You know, if the rumours here don't get around that easily, we Jones know a lot more than you can imagine and one of this is your suspicion of sexual attraction as a murderous pretext...it was so that all of yours previous partners died...if I'm not mistaken...-.
Shit! He knew about all that, it wasn't a good sign at all, exactly not when in such a risky situation she could be the one to loose her life.
-You...please...- the princess begged, trying with some of her last strength to push the man's hands away from her throat, try to take her last breaths.
-No one has ever told you what Georg Hannover did to my mother...it would be a shame for the royal family to know what its members do... but evidently, something is still not clear to you...my father has not died in the war, no, it was the Jones who punished him for what he had done! We are more powerful than you imagine...-.
Isabelle was breathing fast, struggling to get air into her lungs, not when his hand was forcibly bruising her skin, she couldn't scream or call for help.
If only she could Connor would be executed in less than a few minutes.
She observed with her last strength the cold and blue eyes of the man, she also saw in his eyes some signs of madness, she remembered it ran in the family, it disadvantaged her this time.
The situation was boring him, he didn't want to end it so soon so he just let go of her throat, letting the princess fall to the ground, breathing with all possible strength, trying to recover air to stay alive, to oxygenate herself.
The salty tears rolled down her cheeks quickly, fell to the floor, stained her feeble hands.
Everything was so strange, she saw everything around her as blurred and out of bounds but very well she could hear the man laughing with some sadism.
-Shit...you asshole...- admitted the princess resting on her own hands, she couldn't see now, not in such a situation, she wouldn't let her cousin get away after such an attack.
-You know Isabelle...maybe seriously the time has come for the Hannovers to pay for their tyranny, which is why I will stay here for some time, to make sure everything goes well...it doesn't matter if you try to kill me...you have no hope with me...- Connor admitted putting a slight smile on his pale face -and we don't want anyone to know what happened, right?-.