Sorry for the long absence and short chapters! Personally I prefer the chapters short and sweet at the moment because I feel that if I keep writing the quality will just plunge.
A silent shadow approached the couple from behind, peering out from behind a tree and grimacing softly to himself. Juan Borgia knew that he would find his siblings here but somewhere inside himself he wished he hadn't. But truly he didn't know what he thought anymore, ever since the trouble with his member his mind had been scattered and he found himself in fits of hysteria. He never knew when one would take hold but he did know that the wine would soothe him and the tears of the poppy would calm his mind. This secret drug would open Juan's eyes to all the debauchery that lie around him, in fact it was on one of his frequent visits to the opium den that he admitted to himself of his suspicion. He had friends there, and with the growing distance with his family Juan was feeling the suffocating loneliness of his condition.
"They're fucking I tell ya, like dogs on the street. Disgusting." Cried Alph.
"It's true, I've heard talk all over Rome of the affair." Another voiced piped in, accompanied by muttered agreement.
"My sister's, husband's brother is a serving man in the papal household and he says he saw them with his very own eyes. Bending her over a table he said. It made him sick just to see it." There was a communal groan of disgust from the listeners, between inhales of their opium sticks. Juan was just one of the listeners that night in the opium den, looking a common sight and bringing no more attention to himself than usual. His injured leg lay in front of him and he lazily stared at it while his ears were concentrated on the talk taking place around him.
"It's unnatural. How can we have a Pope who lets this kind of sin take place in his own family?"
"If my own flesh and blood was desecrating themselves in such a way, I know what I'd do." Juan's eyes widened at the unspoken threat. 'I know what I'd do.' Juan knew what this man would do, he'd put an end to it anyway he could.
'I know what I'd do.'
The phrase stuck with Juan for the rest of that evening.
Juan knew what the city was talking about of his brother and sister. He also knew that sometimes even their father played a role in the perverse fictions the peasants loved to spread. Juan would have enjoyed silencing anyone he heard speak ill of his family but in moments like this, when he found himself intruding on the intimate moments between his siblings he had his doubts.
'I know what I'd do.'