Valence

Spring 1712, September 16.

Castillo de Bellver

The silent pleas of the poor woman walking in that huge garden slowly turned into tears, tears that she knew were useless just like her pleas, she was insignificant.

The red roses that surrounded his path no longer seemed so beautiful, their beauty praised by the four corners of the kingdom, by every living soul in the enormous Spain, besides the sycophantic monarchs who saw from all over the world in the huge balls that took place in the castle halls, their red color as vivid as blood, planted and cared for as if they were part of the nobility, the favorite flowers of the late queen mother, whose name was forbidden to be spoken by anyone other than the king, some sharp tongued locals liked to say that roses were born white but the intrigues of the royal family stained their pure color with red, the queen hated the reputation of her beloved flowers.

It seemed that the place felt what was happening to its inhabitants.

The fear of the young woman who was accompanied by one of the king’s servants was understandable, she had been one more to be called, the king’s butler had started that morning to call the younger maids one by one and each time the man came back he looked more nervous, with a look of desperation, He walked quickly from one side to the other and you could see the drops of sweat that slowly dripped from his forehead to his nose, and that was the problem only the anxious man came back, no woman, and the rumors in those corridors were faster than the wind, all kinds of atrocities had already passed through his ears.

Whatever the job they were being called upon to do, it could not be said or seen by anyone, least of all the odious court, who only serve to soften the ego of the nobility and spew venom in their conversations.

North tower, master bedroom

Place where there was also the sanctuary of your majesty queen mother, a woman with unshakable faith, a devout person who was more afraid of sinning than of death itself, the queen used to tell her children that that part of the castle was the only one where you could feel the light of god, a place where you could talk to the angels and listen to the advice that the saints need to give you, but that day there was nothing heavenly.

The place seemed to be cursed by the crown prince.

It seemed that fate was laughing at their prayers, creating a great irony

The chief servant of the castle repeated one more, only this time screaming, the poor women already felt their ears hurting, their heads getting lower and lower and their hands very shaky.

-How many times do I have to repeat it? They only returned to their posts when the future king left this room.

More than twenty women had already entered that room, trying to get the prince out of that darkness.

Only time could make the prince stop breaking the objects in his room, tiredness had to fight against his anger and for a long time

thought that anger would win, and when the horrendous noise coming out of those doors stopped, one could hear the relieved sigh

The luckiest ones managed to open the door without having something thrown in their direction, now only one could hear a locked, desperate cry, kept for many years, one could see only a broken man inside, a miserable dying man, thrown on the floor with chaos around him, the red eyes gave him an insane look, a madness that he could no longer keep to himself, he had taken off his real clothes with such fury.

In a quick moment of clarity he looked at himself in the shards of the mirror, he laughed humorlessly, the future ruler of an empire, if his mother saw him now she would probably be embarrassed.

Your real mother, not the crazy one they talk about so much.

But he had not listened to his mother’s sermons for a long time.

Her knees no longer ached from praying for hours on the cold marble of the church.

No one knew why the sudden fit of rage, only a short cook had the courage to say in a whisper

- Everyone knew that the prince would go crazy, the blood of the insane queen is in his body anyway

It had been many years since they had nicknamed the queen insane, it was said that the people had baptized her that way a few months before her death and it was one of those reasons that made her give up fighting for her own life.

But the truth of why so much rage took hold of that man trapped in darkness only the king knew, a broken heart, he was afraid that it was broken into so many pieces that if he could put it back together it would still not be complete.

And then the prince laughed again, he thought he was really going mad. He thought he was loving but he was becoming a lunatic like his mother. As macabre as it was, he felt closer to her now, as if her spirit lived inside him.

The prince was railing against his father a few hours ago in the throne room, but now his body seemed soulless as if a part of himself had been ripped away, the part that contained his joy for life, his love, and now only sadness and madness remained for him.