When she arrived, she was no one else but a Vittoria, the queen, an establishment he wanted to demolish and within hours he became not only her ally, friend but also a husband to be. Somehow, that young woman in front of her (almost a girl) showed him her strength and he wanted to protect her. No, no, don´t destroy her. He could not let her speak so frankly to anyone but him, he did not want anyone to see her nothing less but a strong and capable leader. He was sure she was going to show them. But not only that, he looked into her big green eyes, her beautiful soft hair, her almost fragile body, her long fingers and he knew there was something more about her than just a queen, she was a beautiful woman. That sealed the deal for him. Perhaps he wanted to protect her, be a part of the change that was surely coming but he also wanted her … in his bed, he wanted to feel her skin, her kisses, he wanted to fell asleep next to her and wake up next to her. Like an old fool. Funny how God had his own plans.
He squeezed her hand and let his mind imagine all the possible scenarios how Italy should be better. It did not take him long. He had already imagined them so many times. He knew he would have to fight for his ideas, perhaps there would be days they would disagree and they would slam doors and they would not speak to each other, but weirdly he could not wait for that. He was never the one to like women who were brought up to be silent and obeying. His first wife, dear Alice (let her soul rest in peace) and his daughters were not like that and he was glad his future wife wasn´t.
Children, the topic all parents (or the good parents?) liked to talk about. His eyes lightened up when she asked him about his children. He was ready to boast. “Oh well” but he started with a shy smile. “Aitano is the oldest and he is married, has two sons and he is often at home because he knows it annoys me. He is twenty-two. I´d say you´ll have lots in common.” He laughed. “Battista is twenty, a bit of an intellectual, lives in Milan, naive and an idealist but a supporter of the Resistance. Married and with two sons as well. He is nice, gentle I would even say. Takes after his mother. My other son is named Cornelio, you see we went alphabetically. Somehow we thought that would be funny” he laughed another time “He is married as well and lives in Naples, though his wife is from Sicily. He is seventeen and is this tall, lanky thing. My oldest daughter, the one that will live with us, she is 12 and her name is Daria, she is a bit of a principessa, but she´ll get used to the idea of not being the woman of the house. My son Ezio is ten and he is shy and charming and no trouble at all and then my youngest Fiammetta, my little flame. She is a handful but a chirpy little thing, loves new people, loves to dance and laugh as if she had absorbed all her mother´s joy. I think she´ll instantly love you.” he smiled and touched her hand. Though he was worried about Daria who will surely make a bit of a drama out of her new mother and sisters but will get over her sulk and if she won´t, well Lorenzo was not that type of father you would like to cross and setting boundaries was no problem. He loved his children but he despised brats. He wondered whether they would have any children together. ‘What are your girls like?’
were they being too hasty? was it fate? or were their circumstances too suspiciously convenient that they had no choice but to join in holy matrimony? regardless, there was hardly turning back now. of course, they hadn’t exactly changed vows, only engaged themselves to each other. to move forward, they needed each other. her mind was easily made up — she would marry this man. her heart would catch up sooner or later. her body, on the other hand, might have beaten her heart to the punch. his presence simultaneously comforted her and excited her. when he looked at her, not only did she feel like a queen — powerful and divine — she felt like a woman, filled with a carnal desire she’d hardly known before. but now was not the time to act on those desires; that would come in due time.
she listened intently as he described his children. she had hardly realized that he had so many; some even had children of their own. his eldest was only two years younger than her. the idea of having a stepson that theoretically could also be her husband made her nervous. age gaps between bride and groom were hardly taboo, but this was something entirely new. she wondered how aitano would take it — would he hate her? would they get along because of their common interests, like he said? “from their descriptions alone your children sound absolutely charming,” she hummed, excited ( but also nervous ) to meet them. “perhaps because they take after their father,” she teased softly. “i promise to cherish them as if they were my own.”
“my children, oh dear, are the lights of my life. where do i even begin? i suppose with my eldest, contessina. she’s only ten years old, but she acts like a grown woman more and more as each day passes. she’s not the complete lady quite yet; in fact i think she enjoys riding horses and archery much more than her lessons and embroidery. i see quite a bit of my younger self in her,” she laughed. “my next girl is maddalena. she’s only seven, but she talks as though she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. i have never met a more kind and compassionate person than her — and i have met the pope! although, to be frank, that hardly proves much.” she joked. “my youngest, serafina, is three. she is my angel; she seemed to be the only child who inherited all of my late husband’s features. my largest regret is that she’ll never know that man. not entirely, at least. i hope that you might be a father to her. you’ve clearly had a lot of practice,” she jested, reaching hold his hand in hers.
