When Kindness Is Seen Through Hopeless Eyes
Samael did not run.
Kings do not run.
But the earth yielded beneath his steps as if it were being forced to keep up with him.
Too fast.
Too heavy.
Too late.
The Forest of Three Suns already breathed in the distance, that ancient stench of rotted magic and broken promises clinging to his throat.
And still…
It was not the scent that pursued him.
It was memory.
Inconvenient. Persistent. Cruel.
Elizabeth.
Always Elizabeth.
He saw her as she had been years ago.
Small.
Too thin for the title she carried.
Eyes still swollen from sleepless nights, trying to understand a world that had taken her mother without permission.
Araliz.
The name still hurt.
Still burned.
Still an open wound that never closed.
And even so…
Even with grief still fresh as torn flesh…
She smiled.
Samael remembered it with irritating clarity.
The day he brought Arabella home.
Five years old.
Too small.
Dirty.
The scent of abandonment soaked into her skin as if it belonged there.
Eyes lowered.
No expectation at all.
Like an animal that had already learned not to expect kindness.
And Elizabeth…
Elizabeth opened the door.
She stood in silence for a second.
Just one second.
Long enough to bury her own chaos.
And then she smiled.
Not perfect.
Not light.
But… gentle.
— Hi — she said, lowering herself slightly to meet the girl's height. — Are you going to live with us now?
Arabella did not answer.
Of course she didn't.
Broken children do not trust promises.
But Elizabeth did not insist.
She never insisted.
She simply extended her hand.
Just like that.
— I'm Elizabeth.
A pause.
— May I hold yours?
Samael clenched his jaw as he moved through the forest.
He remembered.
Every useless detail that now cut like a blade.
Arabella took time.
Hesitated.
But she took it.
And Elizabeth… held on as if it were a vow.
Not a gesture.
A vow.
And that was where it began.
The years that followed were not kind.
They never were.
The court watched.
Judged.
Whispered.
"The adopted one."
"The omega."
"The one who does not belong."
"The filth of the palace."
"The impure omega."
"The flea-ridden one."
"The stray of the royal bloodline."
And Elizabeth…
Elizabeth did not allow it.
Never allowed it.
She was always there.
Between Arabella and the world.
Always.
When the stares grew too heavy, Elizabeth would start a conversation.
When words came sharpened, Elizabeth cut them off before they landed.
When anyone dared raise their voice…
Elizabeth did not raise hers.
She broke them.
Subtle.
Elegant.
Lethal.
The perfect heir… with hidden teeth.
She taught Arabella to read.
To fight.
To defend herself.
To breathe without apology.
And on the worst days…
She simply sat beside her in silence.
As if saying:
"You are not alone. Not even if I have to lie to the entire world."
Samael passed a broken trunk without noticing.
The forest was already beginning to close around him.
And still…
The memories did not stop.
Seven years old.
Arabella's first winter there.
She trembled at night.
Nightmares.
Silent.
Always silent.
And Elizabeth…
woke.
Always woke.
Without complaint.
Without calling anyone.
She would simply slip into the bed beside her and pull the girl against her chest.
— It's alright — she would murmur. — No one is going to take you here.
A lie.
Of course it was a lie.
But it was the right one.
The only one that mattered.
Samael tasted iron in his mouth.
Anger?
No.
Something worse.
Awareness.
At what moment…
At what damned moment…
did Arabella look at all of that…
and see an enemy?
He crossed beneath a natural arch of twisted trees.
The entrance to the Forest of Three Suns.
The air changed.
Heavier.
As if the place itself was waiting for blood.
— Too perfect… — he murmured, repeating Arabella's words.
The sound came out bitter.
— And you… too broken to accept it.
The wind answered with a whisper that sounded like laughter.
Samael closed his eyes for a moment.
And saw her again.
Elizabeth.
Older now.
Training.
Exhausted.
Wounded.
Still returning.
Always returning.
Not to prove she was better.
But to protect.
Always protect.
Arabella.
The same one who now…
had led him straight into the abyss.
He opened his eyes.
The forest swallowed him whole.
And for the first time…
Not as a king.
Not as a monster.
But as a father…
Samael understood a simple, rotten truth:
Love does not fail.
It simply… is not enough for someone who has already chosen to make the world bleed.
And still…
he moved forward.
Because one daughter could still be saved.
Even if the other had already been lost forever.
And fate, as always…
was waiting to see if he would learn too late.
Not for lack of love, not for lack of protection, not for lack of care… perhaps for excess. Perhaps for the mistake of giving everything, of handing the world to someone who should never have been protected.