THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 83

Chapter 83: The Blue-Eyed Empress

Tristan took a deep breath as he downed a shot of the strongest drink the pub had to offer. His eyes were bloodshot from drunkenness, and his movements were groggy and unsteady. He was a mess.

His words slurred as he conversed with the other drunken men, their laughter and banter a dull roar in the background. As he stared into the transparent glass that held his drink, the image of Isabel reflected back at him. His breath hitched at the sight.

"Oh, Isabel... I miss you..." he muttered, gripping the shot glass tightly, as if trying to hide the reflection of the woman who had broken his heart.

His hardened emotions began to crack as memories of Isabel flooded his mind. He remembered the times she had opened her heart to him, offering her love unconditionally. But he had coldheartedly rejected and dismissed her feelings, too consumed by his own fears and ambitions.

Now, the weight of his regrets bore down on him, and the alcohol only intensified his sorrow. Tristan's eyes welled with tears as he whispered to himself, "I was a fool, a damned fool."

He took another shot, trying to numb the pain that gnawed at his soul. The pub's dim lighting and raucous atmosphere provided little comfort. All he could think about was Isabel – her laughter, her smile, and the way she had looked at him with such hope and love.

The pub grew quieter as the night wore on, but Tristan remained lost in his thoughts. His heart ached with a pain that no amount of alcohol could erase. He had lost Isabel, and with her, he had lost a part of himself.

As the last patrons left the pub, Tristan sat alone at the bar, staring at the empty glass in front of him. The reflection of Isabel was gone, but her memory lingered, a ghost that would forever haunt him.

With a heavy heart, Tristan finally stood up, unsteady on his feet. He knew he couldn't stay there forever.

Stumbling out of the pub, Tristan looked up at the night sky as the stars twinkled like distant promises he once made to Isabel. The promises to protect her and Liam with all he had. But those promises felt empty now, hollow echoes of a past he could never reclaim. He had chosen duty over love, orders over the whispers of his heart.

His breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of his choices crashing down on him like a relentless tide. The night was silent, but his mind was filled with turmoil. Every star above seemed to mock him, each twinkle a reminder of the vows he had broken.

"I swore to keep you safe, Isabel," he whispered, his voice trembling with sorrow. "I promised to shield you from harm, to stand by your side no matter the cost. But I failed you. I let duty blind me, let orders dictate my actions. I chose the path that led me away from you, away from the love we could have had."

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the stars into a hazy glow. He clenched his fists, the pain of his decisions cutting deeper than any blade. "I should have fought for you, should have defied the commands that tore us apart. But I was a coward. I let you slip through my fingers, let you suffer alone."

The memories of Isabel's laughter, her touch, her unwavering faith in him, were now bittersweet tortures. He remembered the way she had looked at him with hope, the way her eyes sparkled with trust. And he had betrayed that trust, choosing the kingdom's demands over her love.

"And Liam... our son," Tristan choked out, his heart breaking anew. "What am I to tell him when I return? I fear he will hate me for the rest of his life for not being able to save you."

He had saved Liam, but now he feared the future. What would he tell the boy? How could he face him when the truth was so damning? That he had failed to save his mother, that he had let her die?

"I fear the day when Liam learns the truth," Tristan whispered, his voice barely audible.

He sank to his knees as the weight of his sorrow is becoming too much to bear. "I'm sorry, Isabel. I'm so, so sorry. I would give anything to turn back time, to choose differently, to hold you and Liam close and never let go. But all I have now are these empty promises, these shattered dreams, this... broken heart..."

Overwhelmed by grief and guilt, Tristan pulled out his sword with a shaky hand. And with a guttural cry, he swung it at a nearby tree, the blade cutting deep into the trunk. He left the sword embedded there as its quivering handle was a testament to his anguish. The wound on the tree mirrored the gash in his own heart, the pain of loss and regret more than he could bear.

But the release was not enough. He clenched his fists and began punching the tree as hard as he could, crying out in anger and frustration. Each strike sent a jolt of pain through his knuckles, soon causing them to bleed, yet he continued, his sobs mingling with his cries. The bark scraped his skin, but he didn't care. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the torment in his soul.

Finally, exhausted and broken, he collapsed against the tree, his bloody hands trembling. The night was silent once more, save for his ragged breathing and quiet sobs. He had poured his heartache into the tree, but the grief remained, as raw and unyielding as ever.

~

The first light of dawn seeped through the small windows of the healer's hut as the glow touched the figure lying on the simple cot. After five days of unconsciousness, the woman finally stirred. Her blue eyes fluttered open, revealing a striking clarity amidst the pallor of her bruised face.

The young man, who had carried her from the beach, and the healer, who had been diligently tending to her wounds, both sat on both side of her, their breaths catching in their throats. The young man's eyes widened with a mix of awe and disbelief. "She's... awake," he murmured, almost as if speaking it aloud would make the reality more palpable.

The healer's eyes darted between the woman and the young man, her expression shifting from focused concern to startled recognition. She took in the delicate features of the woman, her gaze lingering on the icy, blue eyes that blankly stared back at her. A gasp escaped the healer's lips, her face going pale as she grasped the gravity of the situation.

Without warning, the healer sprang to her feet, her movements frantic. She burst out of the hut, her voice rising in a piercing cry that sliced through the morning calm. "She is who she is!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the village, drawing the attention of anyone within earshot.

The young man, still processing what he had seen, turned to follow the healer, his eyes locked on the woman who was slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings. Her gaze met his, and he saw the flicker of fear in her eyes. The healer's cry had set off a wave of commotion, and villagers began to gather, their faces a blend of curiosity, excitement, and apprehension.

~

Days had passed since the healer's dramatic revelation, and the village had not returned to its former quiet. The initial shock of the woman's miraculous awakening had settled into a steady hum of excitement and anticipation. The healer's words had spread through the village like wildfire, racing through narrow streets and igniting conversations in every corner.

Curiosity and excitement rippled through the crowd, turning whispers into a loud clamor of speculation. Even the children, swept up in the frenzy, began singing songs of old myths and legends.

The children's voices rang out with a blend of awe and joy. Their songs echoed through the square, weaving stories of magic and destiny.

"She has come from the depths of the sea," the children sang, their voices rising in a harmonious blend. "The princess lost and found, in her return, salvation's crown!"

The whispers and excitement of the villagers, their songs of the returned princess, traveled far beyond the quiet confines of the fishing village, eventually reaching the ears of the blue-eyed empress.

"Who has emerged from the depths of the sea?"