Darian
The ride back to Valmora was quiet, save for the soft clatter of my horse's hooves against the cobblestone roads winding through the northern passes. The air carried a crispness unfamiliar to the allied kingdom I had just left, and for the first time in days, I allowed my mind to wander beyond trade agreements, defense pacts, and supply chains.
Elowen.
Even after only a few days without her, her presence lingered as if she had left an imprint upon every corner of the palace, every quiet shadowed hallway. I pictured her hands, steady and gentle, as she had delivered three lives into the world in a single day. The thought made me pause. The sheer power of her skill, her courage, her devotion—how had I ever doubted that she would rise to the role I had thrust upon her? And yet, she was more than my queen. She was remarkable in ways that even my eyes, trained and critical as they were, could scarcely measure.
At a small market in the allied kingdom, I had discovered a store of herbs not native to Valmora. Rare blooms, medicinal roots, tinctures that promised recovery and vitality. My fingers lingered over bundles of lavender for calm, rosemary for clarity, and a few rarities that I knew would bolster the work she did in her clinic. I had also chosen a set of volumes—old, leather-bound, full of remedies, births, and care for the sick. I thought of her quietly, imagining her eyes lifting from the pages as she read, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Now, as Valmora's walls appeared in the distance, my pulse quickened—not with desperation, but with anticipation. The palace loomed, silent in the night. Its windows reflected pale moonlight, each pane a witness to the life I had temporarily left behind.
A maid greeted me at the gate, bowing politely. "Your Majesty," she said softly. "The queen is in her chambers."
Her words were simple, yet they struck me with a warmth I hadn't expected. My stride lengthened as I moved through the hallways, every footstep measured, every breath steady, the weight of the crown and the savagery of the king within me held at bay, just for her.
Elowen's chambers were quiet, the faint glow of candlelight illuminating her in the corner, cleaning her hands after the day's work. The sight made me pause—her hands, delicate yet strong, stained faintly with the remnants of life she had ushered into the world, the air around her carrying the faint, earthy scent of herbs and warmth. She was serene, focused, utterly herself.
She looked up at my arrival, and for the first time in days, I allowed myself the smallest smile. Not the practiced, commanding smile I often wore for the court, but a private one, meant solely for her. She returned it—not formally, not with courtly composure, but with the honest delight of a woman proud of her work.
"I brought something for you," I said, setting the packages upon the low table beside her. The bundles of herbs rustled softly, the leather-bound books whispering promises of knowledge and care.
Her eyes widened slightly, scanning the offerings, and then she laughed, a soft, bright sound that warmed the shadows of the chamber. "These… all for me?" she asked, tilting her head. Her fingers brushed a bundle of dried herbs, and for a heartbeat, I noticed the delicate curve of her wrist, the way her gaze lingered on the gift as if she were seeing more than just objects before her.
"Yes," I said. "For the clinic. For your work. I thought it might make things easier. And the books… I thought you might like them."
Her hands lingered on the leather covers, fingers tracing the titles. "These are… incredible," she murmured, her voice soft with admiration. "You… thought of everything. The herbs, the medicines, the books… you even remembered the rare ones."
I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging her praise without diminishing it. "It is enough for me to know they will serve you well," I said simply. My gaze swept over her, noting the faint fatigue in her posture, the soft flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes sparkled despite the exhaustion. "You have done… remarkable work today."
She looked down, a faint blush rising, then lifted her gaze with quiet pride. "Three babies, Your Majesty. All healthy. All strong. And… I've helped others, too. Some mothers who were in need of care, and a few injuries that required attention. It has been… exhausting, but fulfilling."
I stepped closer, the movement deliberate, measured, leaving just enough space to command the moment without crowding her. "I see it," I said, my voice low, carrying weight and sincerity. "I see the way you move, the care you give. I see the attention, the patience, and the strength. You do not simply perform tasks; you transform lives. I am proud of you."
Her eyes lifted, meeting mine directly. There was no need for words beyond this gaze. I could see the depth of her passion, the way she cared for life itself. I could see how much she thrived in this role, how it lit a fire within her that no courtly ceremony could ever match.
She laughed softly then, a little breathless, and I felt a rare warmth spread across my chest. "I… I never imagined I could feel this way about helping others," she admitted, voice quiet but full of wonder. "To bring life into the world, to ease pain… it makes me feel alive. More than the palace, more than ceremony. I… I wish you could see it, all of it."
"I see it," I replied, voice steady but soft. "Through you, I see it all. And if there is any way I can help, or any resource you need, you have only to ask."
Her smile deepened, genuine and luminous. "Then perhaps you will allow me to use these herbs first, and the books will guide me in the nights when the clinic is quiet," she said, running her fingers over the soft leather. "I… I want to learn as much as I can."
I nodded, every inch of me proud, but restrained, controlled. "And you shall," I said, placing a hand briefly on hers, not in need, but in acknowledgment. The touch was small, deliberate—a silent pact between us. "You are more capable than anyone I have ever known. Your work here, your care… it does honor to this kingdom, to every life you touch."
Her eyes met mine again, holding the unspoken intensity of our bond. For a long moment, we simply stood there, sharing that quiet, potent connection. No words were needed. The gifts were beside her, but the real treasure was her passion, her fire, the heart she poured into her work.
Finally, she nodded, taking a deep breath. "Then I shall begin tomorrow. I'll plant these herbs, prepare the tinctures, and start with the first lessons in the books. The clinic will have everything it needs… thanks to you."
I inclined my head, satisfied. "Good. It pleases me to see your focus, your dedication. You are… exceptional, Elowen."
Her lips curved into a small, proud smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
But I knew she did not need the title here. Not in this quiet chamber. Here, she was simply herself—capable, alive, and wholly my queen. And for a moment, the weight of the crown and the savagery of the king lifted, leaving only a man quietly in awe of the woman before him.