Seated on a tall golden throne, the king, dressed in royal blue garments, massaged his temple a little, weary.
Upon his head rested a golden crown, and in his hand were a few documents he had just finished reviewing.
Lifting his head, he gazed through the great stained-glass windows of the hall at the dark sky outside, and then at the torches in the hall that lit up the falling night's darkness.
'Haah… is it this late already? Well, I'd better go lie down,' he pondered after a tired sigh.
Placing the papers in his hand on the table beside him, he rose from the throne, stretching his arms and body.
Giving a few gentle thumps to his right leg, which had begun to ache, he stretched it and moved it around before feeling better and starting to descend the throne's steps.
King Harold felt no shame in his actions, for at that moment, he was alone in the hall.
His blue robes were relatively simple compared to those of other kings, not because Far Far Away was a poor kingdom, but simply because the royal family of this peculiar realm did not like to walk around in heavy, uncomfortable ceremonial garb.
They preferred garments simple in opulence, but of high quality and comfort.
Making his way to the great hall doors, he pulled them open, revealing two tall guards who stood watch at the entrance.
The guards immediately turned and stepped aside, kneeling with fists against their chests toward the king.
Harold smiled kindly at them and continued on.
Along his way, the same scene of kneeling repeated itself many times, whenever he passed by servants or guards.
Harold had long grown used to this admiration and reverence a king received, but he could not say he particularly liked it. He preferred to converse normally with people, but aside from his wife Lillian, he found fewer and fewer willing to address him without fear and exaltation.
For a former frog, it was a weary life, and so he tried to dismiss what he could, to live as simple and normal a life as possible — just as he had dismissed his personal guards, moving around without soldiers by his side at all times.
Thus, together with his gentle policies, King Harold ended up becoming a good king, known for being wise, humble, balanced, and kind.
Lost in thought, he crossed the enormous castle with calm, measured steps and finally reached the great wooden doors of his chamber, much to the relief of his heart… and of his tired legs.
Opening them gently and slowly, not wanting to disturb his wife who might already be asleep, he was met with a sight that gripped his heart.
His wife Lillian, wearing a pretty pink nightgown, sat quietly at the edge of the bed, bathed in moonlight.
In her hand, she gazed at the picture of a little girl with red hair and blue eyes, smiling bright and cheerful.
Lillian gently caressed the image, her eyes sad, her hands slightly trembling.
Harold froze at the door.
No matter how successful he was, or how beloved he was as a king — none of that seemed to matter when he felt that, in what truly mattered, he had failed.
Failed completely as a husband, and most of all… failed completely as a father.
This was neither the first nor the hundredth time he had seen his beloved wife in that state. As their only daughter, Fiona was the crystallization of their love, their little girl — but the world always had a strange way of toying with people's destinies.
No matter how much they loved their daughter, simple love could not save her from a cruel fate. And so, following what others might call foolish or wise, for love, they made a decision that every day they paid for in regret and sorrow, all for just a glimpse of hope and better times for her.
It had been eleven long years since they last saw their daughter, and by now, she must already have become a beautiful young lady, growing far away from their eyes.
Harold had lost count of how many times he had walked in on this very scene — Lillian holding the picture of their beloved child. If the photo hadn't been waterproof, the sheer amount of tears it had endured would likely have destroyed it many years ago.
Gently approaching his beloved wife, he sat beside her and tenderly caressed her back.
Lillian lifted her gaze from the image and smiled gently at her husband, hiding the sadness in her heart, as she turned the picture against her lap, softly covering it with her other hand.
"Harold, did you finish today's affairs?" she asked with a smile, looking at him with her pure blue eyes — the very ones their daughter was lucky to inherit.
The king lost himself in his wife's eyes for a moment before snapping out of it.
"Huh? Oh! Yes, I finished, I finished. There wasn't much today…" he replied quickly, while his eyes drifted to the picture in her hand that she was awkwardly trying to hide.
Sliding his hand along her arm, he reached for the photo and gently turned it, revealing once again their daughter's innocent smiling face.
Lillian's eyes also shifted to the image, and the smile she wore could not hold. Sadness and longing returned to her gaze.
Harold sighed.
"You're thinking of her again…" he said softly, looking at their daughter's picture with a bitter heart full of complex emotions.
"Every second of every day…" Lillian's voice trembled slightly as she answered.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, heart aching, and continued to look at the photo with her, until a long time had passed.
Gently taking the picture from her hand, he placed it carefully and tenderly on the bedside table, then gently laid his wife, who had dozed off on his shoulder, down on the bed.
Slipping under the sheets, King Harold took a long time to fall asleep afterward, staring at the ceiling with complicated thoughts.
…
It was morning of a new day, and the king and queen hadn't even been woken up by the castle's maids, when a loud noise sounded from the door.
Bang! Bang!
Harold grumbled and kept on sleeping, paying no attention.
Bang! Bang!
The king furrowed his brows.
Bang! Bang!
Irritated and confused, he opened his eyes. Lillian, at his side, also blinked in confusion, then elegantly rubbed her eyes before sitting up and staring at the wooden balcony door, from where the noise seemed to come, confusion in her gaze.
There, the couple almost simultaneously saw a white letter sliding gently under the door.
Eyes widening, Harold immediately stood up and grabbed an iron axe hidden in a secret compartment of the bed, protecting his wife behind him as he stared at the balcony door.
Several seconds passed, and no movement came.
Taking a deep breath and gripping the heavy axe, he began to cautiously approach the door.
Lillian looked at her husband, speechless, wanting to shout: "Seriously?! You're the king, why don't you call the guards instead of going alone?!"
But she didn't say it, only looking at him with concern. She also remembered that he had dismissed the guards from in front of their chamber long ago to have more privacy, so in such a situation, it might take them a while to arrive even if they shouted.
Harold walked up to the door, which remained still, and then cautiously cracked it open to peek outside, but saw nothing.
Carefully, he opened it fully and saw that the balcony was indeed empty.
Closing it again and locking it, he sighed in relief and set the axe on the floor.
"AH!! HAROLD!!" his wife's startled scream came from behind, making his eyes widen as he immediately raised the axe and spun around, frightened and worried.
Fortunately, when he saw her, nothing had happened, but he grew confused seeing her covering her mouth, crying softly, while reading a piece of paper that seemed to be the very one that had come in under the door.
He quickly rushed over with apprehension and saw what was written, making his eyes widen.
[Father and Mother,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and serenity.
I ask you to come meet me in the southern part of Far Far Away's forest, in a clearing located between xxxxx and xxxxx, approximately x miles beyond xxxxx.
I know all this must seem strange to you, but I promise to explain everything in detail once you arrive.
Your daughter has been saved by a gentleman, and is no longer imprisoned in the tower. However, complications and revelations have arisen that make my immediate return to the city dangerous. If we are not prepared, we may be at risk.
With love and longing,
Fiona]
Lillian's eyes widened, and she cried as she read.
"This is… Fiona's handwriting, I'm sure of it! It's more mature now, but I can still recognize my daughter's hand," she said with joy and certainty, and Harold found himself agreeing beside her.
Then, as they continued reading and reached the end of the content, doubt arose in both their eyes, and they stared at each other in bewilderment.