A royal Heart

chapter 22: a moment of comfort

The palace felt eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles after a storm but before the rebuilding begins. Julie found herself wandering the halls later that evening, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. Memories of her first days here, when the palace had seemed overwhelming and intimidating, came rushing back. Back then, she had felt like an outsider, unsure of her place in this grand, gilded world. Now, though, she was walking these halls for him.

A flicker of light caught her eye from one of the smaller sitting rooms. The heavy oak door was ajar, and inside, the soft glow of a fire illuminated Xavier, seated in an armchair. His head was bowed, his hands clasped together as if he were deep in thought—or prayer.

Julie hesitated in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He seemed smaller somehow, dwarfed not by the room or the chair but by the sheer weight of his grief and responsibilities. She knew that losing his father had shattered something in him, and now the crown rested heavily on his head.

She tapped gently on the door. "Xavier?"

He looked up, startled, his expression softening when he saw her. "Julie," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, stepping into the room. "Couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head, gesturing for her to sit in the chair opposite him. "Sleep hasn't come easily these past few weeks," he admitted.

Julie settled into the chair, the warmth of the fire washing over her. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know," she said softly. "You're allowed to lean on the people who care about you."

Xavier leaned back, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "That's easier said than done," he murmured. "Everyone looks to me for answers now—for strength. I'm supposed to be the one holding everything together. How can I admit that I feel like I'm falling apart?"

Julie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Because you're human," she said firmly. "Being king doesn't mean you stop feeling. It doesn't mean you have to bear everything by yourself."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "My father never seemed to struggle," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He always knew what to do, what to say. I look at myself and wonder how I'll ever measure up to him."

"You're not your father," Julie said gently. "And you don't have to be. The people loved him because he was himself. They'll love you for the same reason."

Xavier glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You always know what to say."

"It's a gift," she teased lightly, hoping to ease some of the tension.

For a while, they sat in silence, the crackling fire filling the space between them. Julie watched as Xavier's shoulders relaxed slightly, the weight of his thoughts momentarily lifting.

"You know," she said after a moment, "when I was a kid, my dad used to tell me that it's okay to be scared. He'd say that courage isn't about not feeling fear—it's about facing it anyway."

Xavier's gaze softened as he looked at her. "Your father sounds like a wise man."

Julie smiled, though there was a trace of sadness in it. "He is. And he always reminds me that no matter how bad things get, there's always someone who cares. Someone who will stand by you."

Her words seemed to hit something deep within Xavier. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her. "Why did you come back?" he asked quietly.

Julie blinked, caught off guard. "I... I was worried about you," she admitted. "When I heard about your father, I couldn't stop thinking about how you must be feeling. I didn't want you to go through this alone."

His gaze searched hers, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "You didn't have to," he said softly. "But I'm glad you did."

Julie felt her cheeks flush, but she held his gaze. "I wanted to," she said simply.

Xavier stood, pacing to the window. He looked out at the moonlit gardens, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. "It's strange," he said after a moment. "When you're here, it feels like I can breathe again. Like the weight isn't so crushing."

Julie rose and crossed the room, standing a few feet behind him. "Maybe that's because you're not supposed to carry it all alone," she said.

He turned to face her, and for the first time since she had returned, she saw a glimmer of something in his eyes—hope, or perhaps gratitude. "Julie, I don't know what I'd do without you," he said quietly.

She smiled softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to find out," she said.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken emotions. Then, without thinking, Xavier pulled her into an embrace. Julie stiffened for a moment before melting into his arms, her cheek resting against his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, strong and reassuring.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Julie closed her eyes, her arms tightening around him. "You don't have to thank me," she said. "I'm here because I want to be. Because you matter to me."

As they stood there, the fire crackling behind them and the moon casting a silver glow over the room, something shifted between them. It wasn't just comfort or companionship—it was a deep, unspoken connection that neither of them could deny.

For the first time in weeks, Xavier felt a sliver of peace. And for the first time since leaving the palace, Julie felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.