Fated Moon
The grand doors of the inner palace stood tall before them—polished, imposing, and quietly expectant.
Louis didn't slow his steps.
Lucas walked just beside him, hands clasped behind his back, his usual composed demeanor in place. But even he could feel it—the shift in the air, the weight of what waited beyond those doors.
At the entrance—
They were already there.
Waiting.
Queen Elizabeth of Armathia stood at the top of the marble steps, regal in bearing, yet her eyes carried something far warmer than royal formality. Beside her stood her husband, the King—firm, dignified, his presence commanding, but not unkind.
They hadn't sent for him.
They hadn't made him wait.
They had come to receive him themselves.
"King Louis of Lovera Highcrest," the attendant announced.
But neither the Queen nor the King reacted to the title.
Their attention was fixed entirely on him.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Queen Elizabeth descended the steps.
Not slowly.
Not ceremoniously.
But with purpose.
"Louis…" she called softly.
The name alone—stripped of rank and distance—was enough to make him pause.
By the time she reached him, the distance between royalty and familiarity had already dissolved.
"You've come," she said, her voice carrying relief more than protocol.
Before Louis could respond, she pulled him into an embrace.
It was unexpected.
Unfiltered.
Real.
Louis stiffened instinctively—but only for a second.
Because this… felt familiar in a way he hadn't prepared for.
"You've grown far too much," she murmured, pulling back just enough to study his face. Her hands rested briefly on his shoulders, her eyes searching his features as though confirming something long imagined.
The King stepped forward with a low chuckle. "Last time I saw you, you could barely greet us without hiding behind your father."
Louis exhaled softly, a faint smile forming. "I remember thinking you were both impossible to approach."
"And now?" the King asked, a brow lifting.
Louis met his gaze evenly. "Now I realize I was right."
A pause—
Then the King laughed, full and unrestrained.
"Good," he said, placing a firm hand on Louis's shoulder. "At least you didn't lose your boldness along the way."
Lucas inclined his head respectfully from the side, observing—but silent.
Yet as the moment settled…
Something shifted.
Queen Elizabeth's gaze lingered on Louis a second longer than necessary.
Not just seeing him.
Studying him.
Then—almost unconsciously—her eyes flickered elsewhere.
A memory.
A comparison.
Roselina.
The resemblance.
It wasn't spoken.
But it was there.
The King noticed it too.
A quiet glance passed between them—one shaped by years of shared thoughts left unspoken.
"You saw her," the King said at last.
Louis nodded. "I did."
"And?" Queen Elizabeth asked, her voice softer now.
Louis hesitated—not from uncertainty, but from the weight of what he felt.
"There's something," he admitted. "More than resemblance. It's… familiar. Like I've seen her before—even when I know I haven't."
The Queen inhaled slowly.
"You're not alone in that feeling," she said.
Louis looked up sharply.
The King turned slightly, his gaze drifting toward the palace interior as if pulled by memory. "When Roselina first came to Armathia… she had no past we could confirm. No lineage. Just questions."
"And a presence," Queen Elizabeth added quietly. "One that felt too close to something we had lost."
Louis's chest tightened.
The King continued, his voice steady. "We thought… for a time… that she might be the daughter of our dearest friends."
Louis didn't need to ask.
But he did anyway.
"…Who?"
Queen Elizabeth met his gaze fully this time.
"Queen Isabella," she said gently. "And Toran."
The world seemed to still for a moment.
Your parents.
Your history.
Your unanswered years.
"They were more than allies," the King said. "Before crowns, before responsibilities… we were simply four people who trusted each other with everything."
"When Roselina appeared," the Queen continued, "we investigated quietly. Carefully. We wanted it to be true."
"But hope without proof…" the King exhaled. "…can become a cruelty of its own."
"So we let her live without that burden," the Queen finished.
Silence lingered.
Heavy.
Understanding.
"And now you're here," the King said, looking back at Louis. "Chasing the same truth we once feared to hold onto."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
Queen Elizabeth's expression changed.
Her warmth sharpened into something else entirely.
And before Louis could anticipate it—
She struck his arm.
Not painfully—but firmly enough to make a point.
"—And you," she said, her tone rising. "What exactly were you thinking?"
Louis blinked. "…Your Majesty?"
"All these years?" she continued, clearly upset now. "Searching alone? Carrying this weight like it was yours and yours alone?"
The King sighed under his breath. "Elizabeth—"
"No," she cut in. "He needs to hear this."
Her gaze locked onto Louis.
"You lost them too," she said. "You suffered too. And yet you chose silence instead of coming to those who would have stood beside you."
Louis didn't interrupt.
Didn't defend himself.
Because beneath her scolding… was something else.
Care.
"I didn't want to believe something that might not be real," he said quietly. "Not again."
That stopped her.
Just for a second.
The King's expression softened. "Still protecting yourself from hope."
Louis gave a faint, humorless smile. "It seemed practical."
Queen Elizabeth exhaled, her shoulders easing.
Then, more gently this time, she stepped closer and adjusted the front of his attire.
"You've done enough," she said.
Louis stilled.
"You've done more than enough," the King added, his voice steady and sincere. "You carried a burden meant for many—and bore it alone."
The Queen's eyes softened as she looked at him.
"Your parents…" she began, her voice quiet now.
"…are proud of you. I'm certain of that."
Something shifted within Louis.
Deep.
Unseen.
But undeniable.
For a brief moment, the crown he wore felt lighter.
"…Thank you," he said, his voice low.
Lucas, standing just behind him, remained silent.
But his gaze lingered on Louis a moment longer.
Because for the first time since this journey began—
The weight on his king's shoulders didn't seem quite as heavy.
And standing at the entrance of Armathia's palace—
Louis no longer looked like a man searching alone.
And perhaps.....
He wasn't anymore.
@Queenzayn