With love, Spain

IX.

-My son- Spanish Empire extended its arms and ignored all protocol as it came down from its throne to embrace me.

Some smiled at the act that showed the unconditional love of a father towards his son, a beautiful moment copied to the letter of the parable of the prodigal son.

The difference between that son and me was that I did not want to return.

To outside eyes, the reunion was sweet and moving, to me, it was tense and overwhelming.

I would be lying if I told you that I hate hugging him. As much as I have denied him, all the time I was away he had told me that this man was no longer deserving of my love or respect, but all my convictions were shaken when I had him in front of me.

His reddish mane of his like mine, and his golden eyes which gold coins wrapped me with warmth and longing. He had missed me and I... I admit that too.

I understand your confusion, but it is reality. Empire was a family man and his people, he cared about the crops, scolded and made fun of the kings, he would not be the best strategist or administrator but he participated in battles.

In my most intimate reflections, which I am telling you only out of confidence, he was a good father to me.

The latter must be highlighted and explained.

He was a good father to me, but my brothers and sisters only knew the dark side of him, the tyrannical, indifferent and abusive side. I was lucky that he hugged me, pampered me and scolded me with affection, they got the penance of surviving him.

Was his infidelity and his mistreatment of his bastards enough to make her hate him? I would love to say that yes, that was enough for God to damn him and burn in hell. But not for the confused son of him.

The distance had made it easy for me to hate that man, but that hug reminded me of all the love he professed for me and knowing it almost destroyed me.

I don't wish anyone to go through a similar situation, but just like the father blinded by love who is unable to correct a child's bad behavior, the same thing happens to us. We love our parents.

How would the son of that serial killer have felt when he was discovered? Or the girl who finds out that her mother procured clothes for her in exchange for taking off hers in front of other men? Disappointment, hatred, betrayal, everything is diluted under justification, fear of the truth and memories of a happy childhood.

I had already removed the blindfold, but as soon as I saw my father, my eyes wanted to close by themselves due to his faults.

Once again, the fog of memory prevents me from remembering in detail the day I returned to my father's territory, there is only the vague sensation of sadness, guilt, confusion, and the desire to finish my breath by blaming him for his faults. committed.

The day ends with me back in my chambers, looking up at the vaulted ceiling above my head. My stay abroad had made me forget how old and tall my room in the castle was.

However, one cannot be lost between stupor and fog, no matter how much I seemed to walk with those shackles, reality lurked around the corners.

Was this how my mother felt locked in her room? obfuscated? Loss? I didn't know it then and I don't know it now, but perhaps my salvation came in a letter.

>> "My Lord, if I dare to address these words to you, it is because the young Viceroyalty of Peru has requested it so. The boy, despite his noble appearance, is mischievous and energetic, as would befit a child. My mission is to expel to the people who abuse the benevolence of our kings and rebel against their own government. May my hand be firm and sure as the trust placed in me. I will make sure that this land is worthy of a jewel in the crown, so that , when I return to my mother's crib, I can rest knowing that I have done the right thing...>>