The castle of Mowbray in the wilds of Epirus had always been something of a forgotten noble stronghold. Despite its fortress-like construction, few kings or aspiring royals had ever chosen to make it their base of operations. As such, it was overlooked by those who really should have been paying closer attention. By now, the usurping earl knew that the rightful king and his new queen had re-entered the country, and were raising an army to their banner, calling on the families who had been loyal to their bloodlines for centuries. Yet his spies had yet to find the royal couple themselves, hidden away safely in Mowbray Castle, guests of the new queen's aunt.

Such a lack of information was all but unforgiveable, especially in light of the fact that the earl had allowed the old queen, Luisa, to leave the capital and visit her friend, Lady Mowbray. She was expected that very day, and as such, all sign of the royal couple and their small travelling court had been whisked away, just in case the dowager queen was somehow more loyal to her lover than her son.

Miguel had been pacing the room for so long he was in danger of wearing a hole in the already worn out rug. The idea of reuniting with his mother was not a happy one. He had no idea how she was going to react to his being here or to his being married, especially to a woman who had her own claim to the throne.

"Migs, no amount of pacing will make her arrive any sooner," Matilde said softly. His redheaded wife and queen was sitting at a window seat overlooking the inner courtyard of the castle, absentmindedly sewing. She looked up at her husband with gentle eyes. "There is no stopping her from coming. Pedro has orders to capture her cleanly if her party should start to turn back."

"She will not react well to being a prisoner," he warned. "I do not trust her, Tilde," he told her, not for the first time. How could he trust a woman who had stood by while her husband and eldest son had been killed" Miguel, at least, had been lucky enough to escape with his life, but he was tired of running, tired of looking over his shoulder, tired of wondering who was friend and who was foe. One way or another, this was going to end.

"We do not know if she has been a prisoner all this time in the earl's power, or if she was willingly a part of his schemes," Tilde reminded him gently. "She will never have the same kind of power again, whatever the truth, but she is still your mother."

"And how are we to know whether she will tell us the truth?" he pressed further. He had left home so long ago, he hardly remembered the woman he'd once called Mother. How was he supposed to know whether she was a willing participant or not, when he could not trust her"

"We do not. But if you wish any hope of rekindling a relationship with her that is not that of an enemy, Migs, you cannot immediately jump to the worst conclusion." She sighed softly, holding his gaze with sad eyes. "She is the only family you have left. Do not be so eager to push her away."

Miguel clenched his jaw in an obvious effort to keep his temper in check. As far as his mother was concerned, he had been jumping to conclusions for years. "No, Tilde. You are the only family I have left."

She smiled, setting her sewing aside to rise and join him where he stood, reaching out to take his hands. "If we do not at least try to understand why your mother did as she has done, then you will regret it all your days."

He frowned back at her as she took his hands, but knew better than to argue. "We will know soon enough, I suppose," he admitted, though he thought there was nothing keeping his mother from lying. It would be telling to see her reaction to seeing her youngest son once again after all these years.

"We are going to win this war, Migs," she told him firmly. "He has lost so much of the support he thought he had, just on the rumor that you have returned to claim your throne. He cannot stand against us, and nothing your mother can do will change that. She is powerless, but perhaps not irredeemable."

"I know, Tilde," he replied, his voice softening. He was not angry with her, after all. He was only anxious about seeing his mother again. It had not been all that long really, but it felt like it had been a lifetime ago.

She lifted her chin, gently brushing a kiss to the very corner of his mouth. "I have not bled this month," she whispered to him, wanting to give him something more positive to hold onto as they waited for a meeting that could not truly be predicted.

He arched a brow at her comment, smiling a little at her kiss. "You, my lovely wife, are trying to distract me," he told her, brushing a finger against her cheek. At least, he was smiling for once, and she was a lovely distraction.

"Am I trying, or have I succeeded?" she asked innocently, touching the tip of her nose to his. He had worried enough, she had clearly decided. Better to be distracted for a little while than drive himself into frustration with waiting.

"I am not sure. Perhaps you should try a little harder," he teased back, leaning in to ghost his lips against hers, close enough to kiss her but not quite doing so.

She was never one to back down from a challenge, though. As his lips ghosted against hers, suddenly she lunged forward, throwing her arms about his neck as she pressed into that kiss with a giggle. He had a choice - catch her and kiss back, or fall on the floor with his wife on top of him.

A little taken aback, he laughed as she lunged at him, catching her in his arms, happy enough to return her affection with equal fervor. It was probably cheating a little to distract him this way, but he wasn't complaining.

It was hardly as though the affection was forced; they had grown far more comfortable with one another since their wedding night, after all. It certainly kept both of them entertained and distracted through the sound of a small party of people arriving in the courtyard below, preventing those nerves from flaring up until they took note of the familiar voice of Queen Dowager Luisa passing by the door to their rooms.

Miguel tensed as he recognized his mother's voice, hoping she wouldn't stop at their rooms just yet. He'd had ample time to gather his courage and prepare and yet, he was dreading the inevitability of this meeting.

In his arms, Matilde gently stroked his cheek, trying to calm him as his mother's voice continued on along the passage, no doubt being led to the rooms that had been prepared for her. "Easy, tesoro," she murmured. "Aunt Honoria knows not to bring her straight here."

"We will see what Maksim has to say," Miguel assured her, though in the end, it was their decision. He had fled Epirus to seek refuge in Pomerania, and had not only made allies there, but friends.

"We will," she agreed, lifting her head to look into his eyes. "I must admit, I am very curious to see what kind of spy network he sets up for us when we are settled. I always thought he was a wastrel."

Miguel chuckled. "That is exactly what he wants people to think," he told her. What better way to run a spy network than to let the people you are spying on think you're a fool"

"He does flirt with anyone in a skirt, though," she commented, grinning up at him. "It was fun watching his mother scolding him for flirting with her ladies."

"Hmm, does he flirt with you?" he asked, with just a hint of jealousy in his voice. Even if Maksim did flirt with Matilde, he didn't think either of them meant anything by it.

"Oh, of course," she said, shrugging it off. "He isn't offended when I laugh at him for trying it, either. He does have a fair amount of twinkly-eyed charm, in his way."

From the look on his face, Miguel wasn't sure whether he should laugh or be jealous. "And I do not have any twinkly-eyed charm?" he asked, pouting a little.

"You have a charm that is all your own, my treasured one," she promised him affectionately. "And you are mine."

"Si, and you are mine, as well, amada. Perhaps I should remind Maksim of that fact," he mused aloud, though there was a small smirk on his face now.

"Oh, please do," she giggled. "When I can watch and laugh along with you. I imagine he can do a rather good impression of a kicked puppy when pressed."

"Ha! I cannot imagine Maksim ever looking like a kicked puppy," Miguel said, his mood lightening. In truth, he was very fond of the man and had come to consider him a good friend, but he was not going to share.

"I wonder how many of his little birds he has seduced into working with him, though?" she mused. "He is not shy of spreading his oats, so I hear."

"So I hear," he echoed, though he could not really say either way. He had heard rumors, but he had seen nothing to either prove or disprove those rumors so far.

Tilde eyed him for a moment, one brow rising teasingly above her smile. "Am I not allowed to even notice other men without drawing your ire, Migs?" she asked him innocently. "I am your wife. I chose to be your wife. My eyes may look all they like, but you are the one I turn to for everything."

He arched a brow at her question. They had not been married very long, and he did not think he was the jealous type, but he had never been in love before. "I suppose you can look all you like," he admitted, trying hard not to sound jealous. "But I have eyes only for you."

"Says the man who blushes whenever Princess Marianne smiles at him," she teased, lifting her chin to brush her nose to his. "I do not mind you looking, nor even that you may find others attractive. So long as I have your heart, I am content."

"I do not blush," he insisted, blushing as he said it. Did he really blush in Princess Marianne's company' Perhaps he had just been too warm at the time.

She drew her knuckles tenderly against his reddened cheek, her smile gentle despite her teasing. "My eyes must be deceiving me."

"Now you are teasing me," he told her, drawing her hand away from his cheek and pressing it to his lips. "I do not think Maks can make you sigh the way I do," he said, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

"I would never let him try," she promised in a whisper of her own, nuzzling into his cheek once more. A month of marriage was certainly not enough to dampen the first flush of their loving attraction, but perhaps this precise time was not the best.

His timing might not be the best, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from reminding his wife why she chose him in the first place. He drew her closer, leaving a soft trail of kisses against her neck.

Her body molded to his, the curve of her form softening to fit close into the line of his own as she curled her arms about his waist, adding kisses of her own to his throat. She had wanted to distract him, after all.

He knew this could easily get out of hand, but he was enjoying his new wife's attention too much to stop. Besides, they were newlyweds; who was going to deny them the simple pleasure of enjoying each other's affection"

It was certainly a good way to keep them both occupied as the dowager queen was being settled into her rooms, sharing tender kisses back and forth as the bustle of the servants died away slowly from the guest wing of the keep. A gentle knock on the door warned them of Honoria Mowbray's imminent entrance - time enough to draw back from one another so they did not embarrass the older woman with their obvious affection for each other.

Miguel frowned when he heard the knock on the door, almost wishing it was Maksim and not his estranged mother. He'd rather it was almost anyone but her, and yet, this was something he needed to face and the sooner the better. "Ready?" he asked his new wife.

"I am with you," Tilde promised him, curling her fingers into his. She raised her voice to invite the knocker to enter, and a moment later, the door opened to admit her aunt. Honoria Mowbray was a stately woman with girth to match her dignity, and a warmth that was sadly lacking in a good number of noble women. "Your majesties," she greeted them, lowering into an appropriate curtsy.

Miguel let out a faint sigh of relief to find Tilde's aunt at the door and not his mother. It was a small reprieve, but a reprieve just the same. "That is not necessary," he told her, regarding her curtsy, waving a dismissive hand toward her.

Honoria chuckled as she rose. "Ah, but it is, and you will have to get used to it," she reminded him cheerfully, though her expression sobered. "She is here, and taking tea in her rooms. I have posted guards, and her own escort has been dealt with."

"Do not be concerned if you hear shouting, querida," he warned her. "I promise not to do anything rash," he said, mostly for her aunt's sake.

"I know you will not," Tilde assured him with a gentle smile, giving his hand one last squeeze before releasing him.

Honoria curtsied once again, stepping aside to allow Miguel to leave the room. "She is in the queen's apartments," she told him. "At the end of the hall."

"Si, gracias," Miguel replied, returning his wife's smile, though the smile was a bit tense. He didn't bother to ask her to wish him luck, as luck was not exactly what he needed right now. "I will not be long," he told her, leaning in to brush a soft kiss against her lips, though he really had no idea how long this would take.

Tilde simply smiled, knowing any further words would just be a delay at this point. She, too, stepped back, watching him go, hoping in her heart that he would get some resolution from the conversation he was about to have.

He gave a nod to Tilde's aunt and turned on a heel to exit the room and go in search of his mother. There had been a time, long ago, when he'd thought his mother had loved him; now he wasn't so sure. Their relationship had been strained since his father and brother had been killed, and he was not so sure he believed her story about his father's behavior. The truth was, he was not sure what to believe anymore.

The guard on the dowager's door was one he recognized, one of the loyal men who had joined the growing army of kings' men and had been handpicked to join the royal guard. He saluted his king smartly, stepping to one side to allow Miguel access to the door and the apartment within.

Miguel gave a nod of his head to acknowledge the guard, pausing a moment at the door, before lifting a hand to knock. As king, it was unnecessary, and yet, he though he owed the woman who had birthed him, at least that much.

A voice he had not heard in almost a year answered near instantly. "Come."

He drew a deep breath to gather his courage and pushed open the door. Though she had not said so, he was not sure if Tilde's mother had warned her of his presence. The last thing he needed was for her to faint on him. He said nothing as he stepped inside, unsure what he would find behind the door.

In typical royal manner, she did not even glance at the door as it opened, apparently engrossed in a letter she was reading as she sipped her steaming tea. Luisa seemed drawn, certainly thinner than she had been when last he saw her, but still a queen in dignity and bearing.

He did not think there was a way to greet her without shocking her too much. It was not his intention to upset her, and yet, there might be no avoiding it. "Mother," he said, by way of greeting, in a tone of voice he hoped was gentle, but not overly affectionate.

The dowager's head snapped about, the letter falling from her hand as she stared at him, her dark eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "Miguel?" she whispered, shakily rising to her feet. "Is it really you?"

"Si, it's me," he confirmed. It had not been so long since she'd seen him that he looked that much different. He did not bother to remind her that he was king now, and no longer a boy.

"Oh ....oh, sweet Goddess!" She pushed away from the table, advancing across the room in long strides, skirts rustling, to throw her arms about him and weep. "I was so afraid for you. I thought ....I thought you were dead."

He backed up as she advanced, holding both hands up to keep her at arms' length, at least, for the moment. He was not without sympathy for her, seeing her tears, but he was not yet sure they were entirely authentic. "I am not dead."

Hurt flared in her wet eyes as he warded her off, her arms falling to her sides as she gazed on her boy. Then she dropped to her knees, bowing her head to him. "I swear, by the Goddess and right of kings, that you are my lord and I will serve you all the days of my life." It was an old oath, and one not taken by women; the oath of a vassal lord or knight, not a queen.

He frowned down at her, wondering if this was a play for sympathy or if she was being genuine. He exhaled a sigh, reaching to help her up from the floor, as gently as he could. "That is not necessary, Madre," he assured her. No matter the situation, she was still the dowager queen, after all.

"I do not deserve your kindness, Miguel," she said sadly, allowing him to help her rise to her feet. "I failed you so terribly. There is nothing I can do or say that will ever make it right."

"How did you fail me?" he asked, compassionate enough to take her arm and lead her to a chair. It was not because he forgave her - not yet - but he needed to hear what she had to say.

She sat slowly, afraid to look him in the eye. "I threw my lot in with a man who promised to protect me," she said, "only for him to hold the life of my only remaining child over my head as a means to keep his hold on power. I trusted in the wrong person."

"Protect you against who?" Miguel asked, though he suspected she would repeat Honoria's claim that his father had not been a kind and loving husband.

"From the consequences of the war," she said quietly, folding her hands into her lap. "After your brother was killed, I knew that, should your father lose, both you and I would be exiled or worse. Alphonso offered me his protection, for both of us. I should have taken exile."

"Alphonso is the one who instigated the war so that he could take control of the crown," Miguel said, though perhaps his mother had finally realized this. "Our kingdom used to be a peaceful one, before he made trouble."

"Your father was not a good man, but he was a good king," Luisa said quietly. "He trusted unwisely, like so many of us did when the chaos erupted."

"Why do you say that?" Miguel asked, taking a seat nearby but maintaining a polite distance. "Why do you say he was not a good man?" he clarified.

"Perhaps I spoke poorly," she said. "He was not a kind man. We were never friends, your father and I. I was sold into marriage for an alliance; he did not want me, but my connection to Cicilia. It is the way of royal marriage, Miguel. Duty, above all else."

"And where is she now?" he asked, halting his pacing to turn and face her again. He had no idea what might have happened after he left home for his self-imposed Pomeran exile.

Luisa closed her eyes, her expression pained. "She is a sister at the convent of the Open Hand," she said gently. "After Alejandro's death, she lost herself to grief. Your father dismissed her from his presence. I arranged for her to be cared for at the convent until she recovered, but she took the veil after a year."

"I see," he murmured to himself, frowning at the tragedy of it all, and all because of the scheming of Alphonso and his allies. Had any good come of any of this" Miguel did not think so. He exhaled a sigh as he moved to retake his seat, pausing another moment in thought before continuing. "Matilde is here. She will be staying here while I go on to Epira," he told her.

Luisa met his gaze, her own steady and guarded. "Am I to be imprisoned?" she asked quietly. "Would you prefer I not impose my presence upon your wife?" It was clearly a painful thing for her to ask - she had doted on Matilde whenever the redhead had been allowed to come to court when they were children. The two had always been destined to be related by marriage, though Luisa was deeply relieved that Miguel was the match and not his elder brother.

"Of course not," Miguel was quick to reply. He was well aware of his mother's affection for his wife, and he saw no reason to imprison her when she posed no real threat here at Mowbray. In fact, it was probably much safer for both women here than it would be at Epirus, until he had secured the throne. "Do you think I came here to punish you?"

"You should punish me," she told him. "How will it look to your followers if you welcome me back openly' Restrict my movements, at the very least. If you will not imprison me, then at least keep me under guard. Your allies will respect you more for it."

"What should I punish you for?" he asked, realizing this was a complete turnaround from how he felt when he'd first arrived here, but she was his mother, after all.

"For being allied with your enemy," she said simply. "For allowing him to usurp control and keep you from the throne. At this moment, your army believes me to be an enemy. You should treat me as such."

"Very well. You will be put on house arrest and under guard here at Mowbray, for now. You will not be allowed visitors other than for myself and Tilde and Honoria, and any correspondence you write or receive will be inspected before being passed on. You will continue to enjoy the comforts due your station, but your movements will be limited," Miguel told her, without hesitation. He thought this only fair, considering everything that had happened, and was, in fact, not only fair but generous on his part.

She nodded in agreement. Indeed, she seemed relieved, even proud of him for making that decision so quickly and easily. "Thank you, your majesty," was her answer. "You are already a fine king."

His first reaction was to deny her compliment, but he realized he was going to have to get used to hearing such things from people and learning how to determine the difference between those who were being genuine and those who were not. "I do not intend to lose, but if we do, you will be safe here and Alphonso will not suspect your loyalties." He could not say the same for Tilde, however, whose safety and life now depending on him winning.

"You will not lose," his mother predicted confidently. "He is afraid, and men who live with fear make mistakes. He has only two choices - to stay and fight, or run and hope to hide for the rest of his life. I do not know which he will choose, but he will not be the victor in this fight."

Miguel might have claimed that only a coward would run, but he himself had done that very same thing. It was not fear that had made him do so, however, so much as the will to survive long enough to have his justice. "I hope he stays. I would like to look him in the eye before I kill him."

"He is a seasoned fighter, but he is far older than you, and far more indulgent in his whims now than he was before," Luisa said thoughtfully. She did not like the idea of Miguel personally fighting, but she would not argue against it. She knew it was necessary. "He was injured in a joust two years ago, if you recall. He still favors that side; I do not think the bone was set correctly."

Miguel furrowed his brows. He understood she was giving him an advantage in telling him this, and despite the fact that he dreaded bloodshed, he could see no way around it. Besides, the man deserved it. "I have been training," he assured her, leaving it at that. And he would not be alone.

She nodded, allowing the subject to drop. After a long moment, she dared to ask something she had not thought she would ever be in a position to ask him. "Are you happy in your marriage, Miguel?"

He arched his brows, obviously unprepared for her question. Had she ever been happy in her own marriage" He might have thought so once, but he no longer did. "I have not been married very long, but yes. Tilde and I have always been friends. It feels very ....natural."

She smiled, just a little. "I am glad," she said softly. "You were always close. I feared that these years in exile might have hardened her against you, but there was always love there. I could see it."

"I am happy with Tilde, Mother," he assured her. "I care for her very much," he added, though it seemed she knew that already. "Would you like to see her?"

"I should like to, very much, but ....let her make that decision," she suggested. "She is the queen; she will have to get used to making such decisions near daily."

"Very well," he replied, leaving it at that. He was sure Tilde would want to see his mother at some point, but he would not force the issue on either of them. He looked around briefly, though her surroundings were far from a prison cell. "Is there anything you need?"

"I should like to visit the chapel, if I may," she requested, her tone almost tentative. "I ....I have not attended to the Goddess for several years. I miss Her."

"Si, of course," he replied. "You may move about the castle as you wish, so long as you are accompanied by guards." This was as much for her own safety as anything else.

"Thank you." For a moment, she seemed on the verge of saying something more, but stopped herself, seemingly aware that she could not truly ask for more than he had already given her.

There was a question Miguel wanted to ask, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing a son asked his mother, especially if one was to be a king. She had explained her actions, alluded to her feelings. There was not much more he could ask of her than that. "Well, if there is nothing else ..."

"I suppose that depends on what you consider distressing," Miguel said with a light shrug of his shoulders, though he did not offer any further details what they might have discussed.

"True, it is all in perspective," Maks agreed. He paused in his work, leaning against the mare's side as he frowned at his friend. "Talk to me," he suggested.

Miguel was still frowning, but this time his expression seemed to suggest he was feeling reluctant to unburden himself at Maksim's expense. "You have only just arrived. It can wait."

Maks raised a brow. "We can talk whenever you choose," he assured his friend. "I'll make my report to you once I've settled in and had something to eat myself, if that is amenable?"

"Si, that sounds reasonable," Miguel replied, turning on a heel to leave, before turning back momentarily. "I am truly glad for your help and your friendship, amigo," he told the other man. It could be argued that he had become as fond of Maks as he might an older brother.

Maks nodded to him, his smile fond. "I wouldn't let you do this alone," he promised his friend. "But even I can tell you need some time to be quiet and loved, and you have a very conveniently placed wife to help you do that. I'll see you later, Miguel."

It seemed he was being dismissed and reminded to go visit his wife, who had as much at stake as he did. His heart felt heavy with grief and confusion at his mother's confession, and he was not sure he wanted to burden his young wife with that, but she deserved to know what his mother had told him. That didn't seem to be what Maks was telling him to do though. "Very well. We will speak later," he said, turning once again to take his leave of the man.

Maks watched him go, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. Perhaps he had been a little too heavy-handed in telling Migs to go and cuddle up with his wife, but he had a feeling Miguel and Matilde had the potential to be as effective a partnership as Stephan and Marianne. They just needed to stop trying to spare each other the supposed burden of their worries.

Miguel didn't drag his feet exactly, but he took his time finding his way back to the chambers he shared with his new wife. She deserved to know what his mother had told him, and yet, he was not sure he could tell her without breaking down.

In truth, it was the revelation about his brother that bothered him most, and yet, it did not come as so much of a shock to him as it might have.

He found Tilde alone, sewing once again where she sat in the window seat, humming to herself as she passed the time. She looked up as the door opened, quick to set her needlework aside as she rose to greet him. "I did not hear any shouting," she said. "Did you make peace?"

He blinked as he realized she was right. He had warned her that there might be shouting, but there was none. Had his mother just manipulated him around her little finger, or was she telling the truth' Honoria seemed to trust her, anyway. The friendship between the two women never seemed to have wavered. "I suppose you could say that," he told her as he closed the door behind him.

She tilted her head, curious and concerned. She had not expected him to return so subdued as this. "Migs?" Stepping close, she laid her hand against his arm. "What is it?"

He frowned back at her, not wanting to worry her, and yet, everything he had to tell her had already passed. Nothing could be done to change the past; all they could do was learn from it. "Apparently, my brother had another mother," he said, as plainly as he could without sounding vulgar.

This was not what she had expected to hear, her surprised confusion reflected in her gaze as she stared at him. "I ....I had no idea," she said, shocked by this news. "Did the king have another queen before he married your mother?"

"No, apparently he had a mistress," Miguel replied, taking her hand as he stepped further into the room. What he needed was a good strong drink.

"It was not unknown that your father kept a mistress, but ..." She trailed off, letting him draw her further into the room without argument. "I did not know that Alejandro was born a bastard."

"I assume it was a well-kept secret," Miguel said as he made his way to the sideboard where there were plenty of bottles to choose from. He did not normally imbibe any more than anyone else, but he felt the need to calm his nerves.

"Or perhaps just a secret kept from our generation," she mused, watching him in concern. "He was the named heir, Migs. He had clearly been legitimized under law. But that is not what's bothering you, is it?"

He shrugged as he reached for a bottle of some amber liquid he knew wasn't wine. "I am not sure what's bothering me," he confessed. He had not had enough time yet to absorb all his mother had told him and make sense of it.

"It does not make him less your brother," she offered, before another thought occurred to her. "Is it, perhaps, the understanding that your parents were not a love match?"

"It is the fact that everything I have ever believed my life to be is a lie, and I have been too much of a fool to see it," he said, blaming himself again. He uncorked the bottle and filled a glass, glad that his hand was not shaking at least.

"Not everything," Tilde said softly, a little hurt that he would take this one piece of news and twist it in himself to negate his entire life. "I never wanted to marry Alejandro. I never lied to you about that. And you are no fool for not seeing what others kept from you. A fool sees and does nothing. You are no fool."

"I love him, you know," Miguel confessed. "I loved him, even though I knew it was him you were going to marry. Even though I knew it was him who was going to wear the crown. I was only the second son. I was not important enough, not brave enough, not smart enough. Everything was always about Alejandro, and yet, I looked up to him. Loved him even. Everything that I am, everything that I have, is because he's dead, and now I find out he was not even the legitimate heir."

"You owe nothing to him," Tilde told him. "His death was a tragedy, but you are not the man you are because of him. Yes, you are in this position because he is gone. By law, by the king's decree no doubt, he was the legitimate heir. But the circumstances of his birth do not change your relationship with him. They should not change the way you remember him. He may not even have known."