Between our hands

Chapter 16: The King's Shadows.

As Victor retreated to his chambers for some rest, Maëlle found herself alone in the vast dining hall of the palace. The sumptuous meal they had just shared had been a feast of flavors and opulence, but it had also left her with a sense of heaviness and complexity. As the king remained at the head of the table, his gaze lost in the distance, Maëlle felt a growing curiosity about him. That night, the solemnity of the room seemed almost tangible, enveloped in an atmosphere filled with mystery and tradition.

The silence in the dining hall was almost palpable, broken only by the quiet crackling of the fireplaces and the distant murmur of servants cleaning up. The crystal chandeliers on the ceiling cast a soft and warm light on the richly patterned tapestries. The walls, adorned with frescoes illustrating ancient battles and scenes of royal life, seemed to watch Maëlle and the king with centuries-old intimacy. The large windows, draped with thick velvet curtains, let in the last light of dusk, plunging the room into a gentle golden twilight.

Maëlle rose slowly, her heels softly echoing on the marble floor. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision she was about to make. The king, sitting there with a posture that seemed both majestic and weary, exuded an aura of solitude she couldn’t ignore. His imposing appearance couldn’t hide the fragile man behind it. This realization prompted her to take a step forward, seeking a deeper connection with this historical figure who, despite his grandeur, seemed terribly human.

She approached him with a determined but respectful stride. The ever-discreet servants watched without intervening. Maëlle stood before the king for a moment, her heart pounding with both apprehension and curiosity. The king looked up at her, his features marked by fatigue and melancholy. For the first time since dinner began, he seemed to truly see her, as if he had been waiting for this moment without daring to hope for it.

— "Your Majesty," Maëlle began in a soft but firm voice. "I would like to have a more personal conversation, if you would allow it."

The king seemed surprised by this request. His stern gaze softened slightly, and he made a small gesture with his hand, inviting Maëlle to sit. The interpreter, always nearby, stepped forward to facilitate the exchange, but Maëlle gestured for him to stay back for now. She wanted to speak directly, without the mediation of translated words, to capture the most authentic essence of this encounter.

— "I do not wish to discuss matters of politics or court affairs," Maëlle continued as she took her seat across from the king. "I want to understand the person you are, beyond your role."

The king looked at her carefully, as if gauging the sincerity of her intentions. After a moment of reflection, he nodded slowly, indicating that he was ready to listen. His voice, when he spoke, resonated in the hall with palpable gravity.

— "Very well," he said. "I am ready to listen. What do you wish to know?"

Maëlle thought for a moment before speaking, carefully choosing her words to open a door to vulnerability. She began by sharing details of her own life in France, recounting anecdotes about her family, her brothers and sister, and the small moments of daily life that made her world so rich. She spoke of her childhood and the family farm, which had left a lasting impression on her.

These personal memories, though simple, seemed to have a calming effect on the king. Maëlle noticed a glimmer of interest in his eyes, and a slight smile touched his lips. She continued describing the landscapes of her homeland—the smells, the colors, and the sounds that composed her world. She hoped that this personal approach would allow her to touch something deeper within the king.

The king, listening intently to every word, gradually relaxed. He seemed to find an echo in Maëlle's stories, a resonance with his own experiences of life and loss. When she had finished, he took a moment before he began to speak, as if gathering his thoughts and emotions.

— "You know," he began, his voice deep and filled with nostalgia, "years ago, I was a young man full of hope and dreams. I had a vision for this kingdom, ideas of peace and prosperity. But life—the reality of responsibility—taught me that dreams often shatter in the face of power’s demands."

He paused, as if each word he spoke carried an immense weight. Maëlle listened intently, her eyes never leaving the king’s face.

— "I lost my wife long ago," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. "She was my rock, my unwavering support. We shared moments of happiness but also faced terrible trials. Her death was a devastating blow for me. I continued to rule, but every decision, every victory, felt hollow without her by my side."

He straightened, as if preparing to address another painful subject.

— "And then, my children..." He paused, his eyes clouding slightly. "They left too soon, taken by the wars and conflicts that ravaged our land. I had hoped that one day they would carry on the torch, but the war left nothing but ashes."

The king’s words were imbued with deep sorrow, and Maëlle could feel the intensity of his grief. She was now faced with a man who bore far heavier burdens than his royal appearance suggested. His stories were marked by loss and regret, revealing a tragic dimension to his position.

— "Each loss," the king continued, "carved a little more of the solitude in which I now live. This palace, these walls, are nothing more than silent witnesses to my failures and sacrifices. Power has become a gilded prison, and I am the only one left to bear its chains."

Maëlle, moved by this revelation, felt a wave of compassion and respect grow within her. The king was not seeking pity, but rather a moment of truth—a chance to share his burden with someone who, for a brief instant, might understand. Maëlle didn’t know what to say. Words felt inadequate in the face of such depth of pain.

— "I am deeply sorry for your losses," she said finally, her voice filled with sincerity. "I don’t pretend to fully understand what you’ve endured, but I want you to know that I deeply respect the strength you’ve shown."

The king looked at her with renewed intensity, as if her words had touched a part of him long hidden. A moment of silence passed between them, filled with silent understanding and a genuine human connection.

— "Thank you," he murmured at last, a faint, sad smile on his lips. "It is rare to find someone who sees beyond the crown, who understands that behind every power lies a man with dreams, fears, and sufferings."

Maëlle nodded, acknowledging the depth of what they had just shared. There was now a fragile but real bond between them. This moment of humanity transcended roles and titles, placing them on equal ground in their mutual understanding of pain and loss.

As she left the room, Maëlle felt a mix of emotions. She made her way to Victor’s suite, needing to share this moment of revelation with him. Their journey in this kingdom, with all its complexities and challenges, had taken on a new dimension. She now understood that their presence here was not simply a matter of inheritance or power but also an exploration of shared humanity and the bonds that could form beyond borders and roles.

She knocked gently on Victor’s door, hoping he would be ready to listen and share this moment of reflection. The shadows of the night were beginning to spread over the palace, and Maëlle knew that this evening would mark a turning point in their understanding of their place in this new world.