Between our hands

Chapter 17: Under the Heavy Sky of Revelations.

Maëlle walked slowly through the palace, her mind still overwhelmed by the conversation she had had with the king. The weight of the revelations weighed heavily on her heart, making every step feel burdensome. Inside her, a complex blend of emotions stirred: compassion, confusion, and a sense of responsibility that felt almost crushing. All of it circled in her mind, merging into a tension she could no longer bear alone. And instinctively, she knew exactly who to turn to.

Victor. He had always been her refuge, the one person she could share her doubts, sorrows, and fears with, without needing to disguise them with carefully chosen words or pretenses. She needed him now more than ever.

The palace at night seemed almost unreal, draped in a soft darkness where the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows that gave the place an odd sense of intimacy. The stone walls reflected a golden glow, and a heavy silence reigned, broken only by the faint crackling of the flames. Maëlle walked slowly through the deserted corridors, as if prolonging this moment of calm before confronting her emotions. Each step echoed softly against the cold tiles, amplifying the feeling of solitude that gripped her.

When she arrived at Victor's suite door, her heart quickened slightly. What would she say to him? How could she explain the emotions she had felt in response to the king's pain, a pain that had touched her more deeply than she had anticipated? Part of her dreaded reliving those emotions by verbalizing them. Yet, she knew she would find no peace until she shared the experience with him.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked gently. For a brief moment, she heard muffled sounds from inside, then the door opened, revealing Victor, dressed in a simple shirt and linen pants. His features were slightly drawn with fatigue, but his eyes, upon meeting Maëlle’s, immediately lit up with comforting warmth. He didn’t need to say anything; his gaze was enough. He knew she needed him, that she was carrying something too heavy for her to bear alone.

He stepped aside to let her in, and Maëlle entered the room. The atmosphere inside was different—more intimate, almost warm. A small oil lamp sat on a low table, and the bed appeared barely touched, a sign that Victor hadn’t yet found sleep. The silence between them wasn’t heavy or awkward. There was that unspoken understanding that had always united them, the ability to read one another without needing immediate words.

Maëlle sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t know where to start. How could she recount the immense sorrow she had felt while listening to the king speak of the ghosts of his family? Words failed her. So instead of speaking, she turned toward Victor, seeking comfort in his presence. Slowly, she lay down beside him, resting her head against his shoulder, searching in his warmth for the security she had always found with him. Victor said nothing, but his arms wrapped around her with that protective tenderness that had never changed, since they were children.

For a moment that seemed to stretch beyond time, they stayed like that, in that soothing silence, where the calm beating of Victor’s heart seemed to resonate in sync with Maëlle’s. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped by this bubble of comfort. Everything she had experienced in recent days—these new responsibilities, these overwhelming discoveries—seemed suddenly lighter, as if the mere act of sharing this moment with him relieved part of her burden.

Finally, it was Maëlle who broke the silence. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but distinct enough in the intimacy of the room.

“I spoke with the king,” she began, feeling her heart tighten again at the memory of that conversation. “He told me things I didn’t expect to hear.”

She felt Victor stiffen slightly beside her, a sign that he was listening attentively, even though he remained silent to give her the space to express herself. Maëlle took a deep breath and continued, her voice trembling slightly as she relived those moments.

“He has lost so many people…” she murmured, her gaze fixed on an invisible point in the room. “His wife, his children… They’re all gone because of war, because of illness. He’s... so alone, Victor. I never imagined that someone like him, a king, could carry such a silent burden.”

She spoke slowly, weighing each word, as if trying to understand them herself as she spoke. The memories of the conversation with the king resurfaced: his deep, aged voice, the dimness in his eyes as he spoke of his past, the heavy silences that punctuated his story. Maëlle had felt an immense empathy for him, but also a kind of dizziness at the enormity of the void he carried within him.

Victor remained silent, absorbing every word, every nuance in Maëlle’s voice. When she finished, he sat up slightly, his arm still around her, and looked into her eyes. His face showed a rare gravity.

“That explains a lot,” he said softly, his voice thoughtful. “I can understand now why he seems so... distant, at times. It’s not coldness; it’s... a way of surviving, I think.”

Maëlle nodded gently, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as she realized Victor understood. He had always been able to find the words to explain her own feelings, even when she couldn’t.

“I don’t know if I could face all this without all of you, without you,” she admitted in a breath, feeling her eyes fill with tears she tried to hold back, a mix of apprehension and stress.

With his usual gentleness, Victor slowly ran his fingers through her hair, a comforting smile on his lips.

“You’re much stronger than you think, Maëlle. But you don’t have to carry all this alone. We’re in this together, from the beginning to the end. We’ll face it all, together.”

Those simple words, heavy with promises, warmed Maëlle’s heart. She snuggled closer to Victor, feeling the reassuring warmth of his body against hers. She knew he was telling the truth. Their bond was unshakable, forged through years of companionship, laughter, and even sibling arguments. No matter what lay ahead, she would never be alone as long as he was there.

They continued to talk quietly, sharing their thoughts about the king, about what they had learned, but also about the uncertainties of the future. Victor, always pragmatic, began to suggest ideas about how they might approach the coming events. But soon, the conversation shifted to lighter, more familiar topics.