His eyes bulged. "He's twenty! Twenty only!! And those children are eight! Impossible! No, no, they can't be his. Adoption—it must be adoption! But then—he can't raise children alone! He'll exhaust himself! Should I hire tutors? Nannies? Guards? An entire battalion?!"
"Or perhaps," the queen said smoothly, "a wife?"
The king froze, horrified. "A wife?! What if she's a snake in disguise?! What if she's after his title, his looks, his sweetness?! No! No, I refuse to let my cutie fall into the claws of a bad woman!"
He slapped the table for emphasis, nearly toppling an ink pot. "I'll conduct interviews myself! Background checks! Bloodline checks! Psychological evaluations!"
"Darling…" The queen pressed her forehead into her palm, shoulders shaking with laughter now.
"I'm serious!" the king wailed, throwing his arms skyward. "If I can't find him the perfect bride, then I'll—then I'll just keep him here forever! Yes! He'll stay with me. My little Elias, safe under lock and key, where no evil woman can ever touch him!"
At last, the queen reached over and tugged him gently back into his chair, smiling at him the way only she could. "My dear, you worry too much."
He groaned again, dropping his head onto the desk like a sulking child. "Then what do I do? Tell me, my love, what do I do?"
"You breathe," the queen said softly, stroking his hair. "You trust him. You give him what he asks for—not what your worry invents. He has lived through storms we cannot imagine. And still… he wrote to us. That means he thought of us. That is enough."
The king slowly lifted his head, his dramatic fervor melting into something softer. His eyes were still worried, still burning with that strange mix of pride and love. But he nodded.
"…Fine. Just herbs..maybe just a little bit more??..." He asked.
The queen smiled, leaning close until her forehead brushed his. "Ok just a bit more. Because he doesn't need us to smother him. He only needs to know he is loved."
Her gaze dropped once more to the name written at the bottom of the page.
Eli...
Her heart whispered the words before her lips did: "I miss you, little one."
To the king, Elias was the child he longed to protect. To the queen, he was the brother of her heart, the son she never bore.
And together, they loved him fiercely.
---
It had been a week.
A week since Elias sent that letter to the King.
A week since the children had come to his house—no, their house now.
They had settled more easily than he expected. Sometimes they played chess with him. Of course, all three of them tried their best to defeat him, but—oh, not yet. Not today. Not tomorrow. And every time they lost, Elias would slip them a little speed boost or distraction, a tiny "handicap." Yet even then, they lagged behind.
Even when they say nothing.
Elia notices,
He notices the silence hiding between their words.
The tension beneath their relaxed faces.
He noticed everything.
In short—he was a great father.
And yet… he felt the opposite.
Once again, the question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.
"Do you really think I'm a good father?" Elias asked quietly.
The butler, standing nearby, did not falter. Aaron, sprawled on the sofa with his documents, glanced up as well.
"Well," the butler said calmly, "if you ask me, then yes. I think you are. You're trying your best for them. That is what makes you a good father."
"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" Elias pressed.
"Not at all. I have eyes. I've seen you."
"I'm trying my best," Elias muttered. "But that doesn't mean it's enough."
"That's true," the butler said with a rare laugh.
"Oh, please, Butler," Elias groaned. "You could at least lie to me properly."
Aaron snorted. "What are you even asking him for? He raised me for ten years, and I can tell you now—he was not a good father."
The butler gave Aaron a sharp look, but Elias just laughed. Father and son bickering—it made the world feel a little warmer.
Aaron had been adopted from an orphanage when he was ten. Not because the butler and his wife couldn't have children—they simply hadn't tried. Their lives belonged to their Lord, and one child, Elias, was already more than enough. Elias had never questioned it.
"Yeah, but it's hard," Elias murmured.
"Of course it's hard," the butler replied simply. "Being a bad parent is easy. Being a good one? It's so hard that you'll always doubt yourself. That doubt means you care."
Elias leaned back, sighing. "Well, I don't know. It's complicated, dude."
The butler raised an eyebrow at the casual 'dude,' but let it pass. Sometimes, a slip in posture, a little break from formality, was necessary. It made them all feel alive.
Aaron, however, was less forgiving. "I'm working my back off here, and you two are having your heartfelt bonding moment? Really?"
"We're not," Elias said innocently.
"Yeah, sure."
For a moment, silence stretched between them—until Elias spoke again, softer this time.
"Aaron… have you heard from Ren?"
Aaron's pen stilled above his papers. Then, with an easy shrug, he said, "Not really. He… changed after you got sick, you know that. Went away, hasn't come back. Guess he's wandering in the North somewhere, near that abandoned forest. Probably wants to be alone."
The butler's hand tightened around the tray he carried, but he said nothing.
Elias's gaze dropped to the desk, but his lips curved in a faint, stubborn smile. "Alone? No. That doesn't sound like him. Ren isn't like that."
In his mind, a memory rose unbidden: Ren standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, yet laughing as he shoved a cloak over Elias's shoulders. "If no one else believes you, I do. Always." Those words had carried Elias further than anyone realized.
"Ren wouldn't leave us," Elias said firmly. "Not when Mary's here. He likes her too much. There's no way he'd just walk off and leave her behind."
Aaron's mouth twitched—too fast to catch. "People change, Elias."
"Not him," Elias insisted. His voice was quiet, but it held the steel of certainty. "He's still my brother. Write to him for me. Tell him to come back."
"Write to him?" Aaron repeated, chuckling. "You could just do that yourself."
"No," Elias said, shaking his head. "He'll listen to you. If it's from me, he'll only think I'm worrying again. Just… tell him to come back. Please."
Aaron tilted his head, studying Elias for a second longer than necessary. Then he smiled, warm and easy. "Fine, fine. I'll write."
The butler looked between them, as if about to speak, but swallowed the words.
The moment passed. Aaron returned to his documents, humming off-key as though nothing had happened. Elias leaned back with a faint smile, comforted just by the thought of Ren's name.
"Oh, by the way," Aaron added, "hasn't it been a week since you sent that letter to the king? Did the herbs arrive yet?"
"The herbs?" Elias blinked.
"Yes, they arrived," the butler answered.
"They did?" Elias turned, surprised.
"I was going to tell you after you finished your documents," the butler said smoothly.
"What!!!! Come on, you should have told me first" Elias said standing up looking at butler like he betrayed him.
"And then what? You'd have abandoned all this paperwork to run off with the herbs instead?"
"…Fair point," Elias admitted and sat back down.
Aaron smirked. "See? Lazy."
"I'm not lazy!" Elias protested. "I'm… strategic. Smarter than you."
"Oh, right. So smart you only complain for half an hour before touching a single sheet of paper."
"Exactly. Efficiency," Elias grinned.
But then his thoughts drifted, unbidden.
To his past.His past life. To the man he exposed. To the illegal transactions, the trafficking. To the satisfaction he felt in tearing it all down, even if it cost him his life.
Am I cruel? he wondered. Maybe. But it felt right. Even now, it feels right.
I wish I can tear all my enemies apart in this life too.....