As I left my room, Willow trailed silently beside me, her presence as steady as the rain that had finally ceased its relentless downpour. The corridors of the palace were quiet, save for the soft echoes of our footsteps. The silence was almost comforting, but there was an underlying tension, a feeling of unease that had settled deep in my bones.
We hadn’t gone far when a guard approached us, his expression somber. “Prince Ian, the Queen wishes to see you,” he said, his voice respectful but carrying an urgency that made my heart skip a beat.
Willow exchanged a glance with me, her eyes filled with questions, but she remained silent. I nodded at the guard, indicating I would follow, and without a word, he turned and led the way.
“Do you know what this is about?” Willow finally asked, her voice low as we walked.
I shook my head, trying to suppress the unease that was growing within me. “No, but it must be important if she’s sending for me this early.”
Willow hummed softly, her gaze fixed ahead. “The rain was odd last night,” she mused. “It felt… different.”
I glanced at her, noting the way her brow furrowed in thought. “Different how?”
“It’s hard to explain,” she replied, her voice distant. “But there was something in the air… like a warning.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to focus. Whatever this was, I needed to be strong. I had to be.
We reached the grand doors of my mother’s chambers, and the guard knocked before stepping aside. I took a deep breath, glancing at Willow. “I’ll be fine. Wait here.”
She nodded, though her concern was evident. “If you need anything…”
“I know,” I interrupted softly, offering her a small, reassuring smile. She didn’t seem convinced, but she stepped back, allowing me to approach the doors.
The guard pushed them open, and I stepped inside, immediately struck by the warmth of the room compared to the coolness of the hall. The scent of roses hung in the air, a familiar comfort in this time of uncertainty. My mother, Queen Hera, stood by the window, her back to me as she looked out at the now serene landscape. The light streaming in highlighted the streaks of silver in her once dark hair, a stark reminder of how much time had passed since the days when she had seemed invincible to me.
“Mother,” I called softly, closing the door behind me. She turned, her face lighting up with a gentle smile that did little to hide the weariness in her eyes.
“Ian,” she greeted, her voice warm despite the obvious fatigue. “Come, sit with me.”
I approached, taking a seat across from her at the small table by the window. For a moment, we simply looked at each other, the silence stretching between us.
“How are you, Mother?” I finally asked, breaking the quiet. My voice was gentle, laced with the concern I rarely allowed myself to show.
She sighed, her gaze dropping to the hands she had folded in her lap. “I’m managing, my dear,” she replied, though the words felt hollow. “But what about you, Ian? How are you?”
Her question took me by surprise, and I blinked at her, unsure how to respond. “I’m… fine,” I said slowly, but the uncertainty in her expression made me falter. “What is this about?”
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine, and I could see the hesitation there, the weight of something unspoken. “Are you truly alright, Ian?”
The question hung in the air, and I found myself at a loss for words. I was always the one who held it together, who stayed strong no matter the circumstance. But something in her tone, in the way she looked at me, made it hard to maintain that facade.
“I… yes, Mother,” I said, but the words felt strange on my tongue. “I’m alright. Why do you ask?”
She sighed again, this time with more weight, as if she were carrying the world on her shoulders. “I’ve been having dreams,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Strange, unsettling dreams. And the rain last night… it was relentless. I can’t shake this feeling, Ian. I think something is going to happen.”
A cold chill ran down my spine, and I felt my pulse quicken. “Mother, dreams are just that—dreams. They don’t always mean anything,” I said, trying to reassure her, but I could hear the doubt in my own voice.
She looked at me, her eyes filling with tears, and my heart clenched at the sight. “It’s not just the dreams, Ian. I’m worried about your father. I don’t know if he’s going to survive.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt my carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. For a moment, I was lost for words, unsure how to comfort her, how to comfort myself.
I stood, moving to her side and placing a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Mother, he’s strong. He’s survived this long, hasn’t he? He’ll make it through this.”
But even as I spoke, I could feel the weight of uncertainty bearing down on me. My father had always been a towering figure, unbreakable, but now… now he was fading, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Queen Hera looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with pain. “I’m so afraid, Ian,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to lose him. I can’t bear the thought of it.”
The raw emotion in her voice cut through me like a knife, and for the first time in what felt like years, I let myself feel. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over.
“I know, Mother,” I said quietly, my voice hoarse. “I’m afraid too.”
She reached up, covering my hand with hers, and I felt a tear slip down my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it together. I quickly wiped it away, but the moment was already too vulnerable, too raw.
For a long while, we just stayed like that, holding onto each other, finding comfort in the shared silence. And in that moment, I allowed myself to be human, to feel the fear, the sadness, the weight of everything that was happening.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m supposed to be strong for you, but…”
“You don’t always have to be strong, Ian,” she interrupted gently, squeezing my hand. “It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to be afraid.”
I nodded, though the words felt foreign. I had spent so long being the rock, the one everyone could rely on, that I had forgotten what it felt like to let someone else take the weight, even if just for a moment.
“I love you, Mother,” I said softly, the words barely escaping my lips.
She smiled, a watery smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I love you too, my son.”
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Final Brushstrokes of a Tragic Romance || BxB | MLM
Fantasy"He is my everything I want to escape this life and live with him" "I love him so much but he shouldn't leave his kingdom for me" In a realm where history's threads are interwoven, Prince lan of Vidin faces the dual challenge of his father's dec...
