Letters To The Heart

Entry 2: But about Love & Sacrifice

Dear Stranger,

It's nine o'clock here, and I've just spent the last seven hours being corrected.

I've endured an evening of councilmen arguing endlessly over the decline in trade, which naturally spiraled into discussions about the unrest in the western territories. And if that wasn't exhausting enough, I attempted to read through important documents, only to be constantly interrupted.

Afterward, I sought a brief moment with my father before he disappeared into his study once again. He claims he retreats there to finalize the day's remaining documents, but I suspect he simply desires solitude—something I cannot fault him for. If I had a hundred documents as an excuse to escape, I would gladly take all one hundred and more.

Normally, I'd be speaking with Reggie by now, but I've heard rumors that he requested the night off. It appears he's taking his "lady friend" out for a pleasant evening. And when I say rumors, I mean that's precisely what's happening—how do I know, you ask? Well, we are that close.

On another note... can I please purchase a one-way ticket to, say... Neverland?

~ Princess Elise Ever-Loreigh-Baya Forjayn

★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★

Just as I slip my journal beneath my pillow, the door creaks open ever so slightly. Through the small space in my blankets, I see a tall figure enter the room. Standing at least 6'3", he's dressed in the finest, most expensive fabric—his face lined with worry, his expression tense. Lately, he has been on edge, though I wish there was more I could do to help him. But, it seems the only thing he desires from me is to sit through those endless meetings. I'm pulled from my thoughts when his gentle voice fills the room.

"Elise, I know you're awake. Sweetheart, I've known you since the day you were born. I can tell when my child is pretending to sleep."

Slowly, I peer out from beneath the covers, offering him my most innocent look. Some say that innocence fades with time, but I refuse to believe that. With enough practice, nothing ever fades.

"Hello, Dad! Or should I say... Greetings, Father?" I tease, knowing full well that in the public eye, formality reigns. In front of the press or at royal functions, I am expected to address him as 'Father,' with utmost decorum.

However, my father never enforced that rule within the privacy of our home, and I never followed it. When I turned nine and began making more public appearances, a compromise was struck: formal titles in public, 'Dad' and 'Mom' behind closed doors. My mother always reminded me that we must be the example—those whom the people look to for strength and guidance.

He takes a seat on the edge of my bed, the weight of the world evident in his gaze.

"I'm sorry I couldn't join you for supper tonight, once again. That meeting lasted much longer than expected."

"Dad," I say softly, "it's alright. You have a kingdom to run. You are the King—you're bound to be busy."

"Yes, but no matter what, you should always come first. Nothing should ever take priority over you." He turns away, sighing deeply. I quickly place my hand on his shoulder, gently drawing his attention back to me.

"Dad, you've been the best father I could have ever asked for."

I hope he hears the sincerity in my voice because it is nothing but the truth. He has been not only a wise and just ruler but also a kind, loving, and attentive father. "I understand that duty calls. We all have responsibilities, and even though we live in the same palace, there will be days when we don't cross paths. But I know you love me, Dad. I always will."

His deep green eyes grow misty, the weariness of the day catching up with him.

"You're right, darling. I just wish life were... lighter. Happier, perhaps."

I smile, knowing exactly what he needs to hear. "Life is not always about happiness... but about love and sacrifice."

We finish the phrase together—it was my mother's favorite saying.

"I miss her, Dad." I lean into him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace. It's been five years since my mother left us.

"I miss her too, Elise. Every day."

Growing up, I never imagined losing someone so dear to me. It felt impossible to move on, but over the years, I learned that I had to. Healing came slowly. As for my father, I'm not sure he has ever truly moved on. He's not a bitter or harsh man, but there's a sadness in him that he's never quite been able to shake.

The stages of grief... Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance...

I've often wondered where my father lies within them. He has never lashed out in anger, never lost his temper with me or the court. But the sadness... it lingers, even as he fulfills his duties as king. The light in his eyes is not as bright as it once was.

As silence settles between us, I decide now is the moment to ask him about traditions.

"Dad, may I ask you something?"

He hugs me tighter. "Of course, my dear. You may ask me anything." Ever the proper man, he sneaks in a grammar correction, as usual.

"Dad, why don't we have any Christmas traditions?" His expression turns thoughtful before he finally responds.

"Hmm. That is something we shall have to remedy, isn't it?"

"Absolutely! We can't have the people thinking we're heartless Christmas scrooges!" I giggle as he chuckles, his mood lightening.

"Alright then, let's get some rest, and we'll figure it out tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Dad. I love you." Before stepping out, he turns, offering me a warm smile.

"I love you too, Princess."

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