"Why?" Elen's voice was hoarse, almost too soft to be heard. "Why are you doing this?"
Elias didn't answer right away. He only sipped his tea, gaze lingering on the stars as if the sky itself carried his silence. The wind stirred, brushing through his hair, carrying a stillness that felt heavier than words.
At last, his voice came—low, controlled, steady.
"Because every child deserves happiness, and this is just a room to relax though, nothing much."
The words settled over Elen like a blanket. For the first time, he didn't feel small. He didn't feel like a weight someone had to carry. He felt… rightful.
And that quiet, unfamiliar warmth inside him whispered the most dangerous thought of all:
Maybe....Maybe....
If not anyone else, they will trust Elias...no matter what.
--
In the King's chamber — Morning:-
"Darling… I miss him," the king murmured, voice heavy with longing as he buried his face against his wife's embrace, who was standing beside the king's chair in his chamber of office.
"Come now, love," the queen soothed, her hand stroking his hair. Her beauty was such that even in stillness, she could steal breath away; her voice, sweet as honey, carried both warmth and ache.
"You're a king. I miss him too… but we must keep focus a little, don't you think?"
The king straightened reluctantly, though his arms refused to release her waist. His gaze fell to the endless stacks of parchment and sealed documents waiting on his desk.
"Oh, I can't," he whined softly, he said again turning back to his wife, clinging tighter like a sulking child. "Can I not just resign? Please?"
"No... you cannot," she said firmly, though her lips curved.
"I just wish someone else could take all this away from you, Renard Darling..." Queen Miya continued.
"Mm, me too," the king sighed, flopping back against her shoulder.
"Ya, if only we had an heir between us…"
Said the queen witha guilty voice.
Silence pressed for a moment. Then he shook his head, almost fiercely. "No. No regrets. Not with you." He cupped her face with rare sincerity, eyes softening. "If it means having you, I'd give up a thousand heirs."
The queen's heart melted, as it always did. Another woman in her place might have lived in humiliation, branded barren in front of the court for being unfit as a queen , a woman unable to conceive child.
But with this man… never. He would rather burn the throne than let her feel less. He loved her. And she loved him. That was all that mattered.
King sensing the tension spoke, tone lightened. "Come now, what else do I need when I have you? As for children, we can adopt. We just haven't found one who feels right yet."
The queen laughed quietly. "True. Very true."
Then, her eyes softened further. "But have you heard from him? How is Eli??"
The king's chest tightened. "Not at all. It's been two years since I last saw him. Can you believe it? He came back, and didn't even say a word to me. Two years!"
"Oh, honey," the queen teased gently, "you missed him so much you even murmured his name in your sleep. If it were anyone else, I'd be jealous. But it was Elias, so I forgive you. I dreamed of him too, jealous??"she said in a teasing tone.
"Jealous?" The king snorted. "Of Elias?Oh come on my queen, you know better. He's soo...soo...cute.( king said making weird face) My bestie, my brother… ah, people would think I'm talking about my son instead of my friend if they heard me, but let me tell you i missed him more" Renard said with proud smile.
"Well, you do sound like you want to adopt him." Said queen raising an eyebrow.
"Ha! If only. But he's the same age as us. Still…" The king puffed out his chest proudly. "I am older by a year though."
The queen chuckled, covering her lips with her hand. But before the moment could linger, the curtain rustled.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward — the spy. She bowed low, one knee bent, head lowered like the perfect servant.
"Finished, have you?" the king asked warmly.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"There's no need to kneel, little one. You must miss him too, don't you?"
The spy said nothing, her silence sharper than any blade.
The queen intervened with her silken voice. "Why don't you consider teaching at the Grand Academy? It would suit you."
The spy only lowered her head further.
She said nothing.
" Just think about it, you can leave now" king said.
"Understood." Then she vanished into the air like mist.
---
After the spy disappeared.
The king sighed, shoulders slumping. "When will he write to me?" he muttered.
"Patience, love. The letter will come."
As if her words carried divine weight, a knock echoed against the chamber door.
"Maybe the gods heard us," the king whispered.
"Enter," he called, his composure snapping back into the role of monarch.
Queen also straightened her back.
A knight entered, bowed. "Your Majesty. A letter has arrived. From Elias, Duke of Veirdan."
The king hid his spark of joy, only nodding with feigned indifference. "Place it there."
The knight obeyed, setting the envelope gently on the desk before departing.
Thud!!!!
The door closed softly.
The instant the door closed, the king dropped his mask. His boyish grin returned, full of mischief and eagerness. The queen sighed in amusement.
"You really do have a talent for acting, Your Majesty."
"Who cares about acting?" the king grinned. "Come on , let's open it. Quick, let's see!"
Together they leaned over the parchment. The letter was brief, almost blunt. Elias asked for herbs. No formal greetings, no polished courtesies. Just honesty.
And that was what made their hearts warm. The closeness lived in the simplicity. No barriers. No pretenses.
The king sprang up from his chair as though stung. "Herbs? That's all he asks for? Herbs?!" He stood up from his chair abruptly and began pacing, arms flailing dramatically.
"What is he thinking—does he expect me to sit here and send just herbs? Absolutely not!"
"What is he thinking—does he expect me to sit here and send just herbs? Absolutely not!"
The queen pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.
"I'll send herbs, of course, but also—mana crystals! And healing potions! And maybe a holy relic or two, just in case. What if he catches a cold? What if he gets a scratch?!"
The king clutched his chest like tragedy itself had struck. "Oh heavens, I can't let him bleed!"
He spun toward his wife. "And armor! Yes—light armor, enchanted with protection spells! And maybe a sword forged by the dwarves! What if he's attacked?!"
"Darling." Her voice was soft, steady, the single word cutting through his storm like a calm tide. "He doesn't need an arsenal. He needs peace."
The king froze, then groaned, grabbing his head. "Peace, yes, but what's this about being a father?!"
His eyes bulged. "He's twenty! Twenty only!!