As Samuel held his face, memories of his father's slap and the day he passed flooded his mind, tears rolling down his cheeks. He sat in front of the mirror, studying his reflection, grappling with his father's absence.
Six hours had passed, and the noon sun cast its rays over the palace grounds. Samuel, still grappling with his father's absence, found no respite from his tears. He sat on the cold, furnished floor, his thighs drawn close to his chest, his head resting on his knees. But the discomfort was too much to bear, and he retreated to his bed, seeking solace in the memories of his father.
As he sat beside his bed, he gazed at the left framed drawn picture of his father, tears streaming down his face. He recalled the time they spent together, discussing the affairs of the kingdom, and the weight of his father's legacy weighed heavily on his mind. But amidst his grief, he realized that he had much to learn about the kingdom's workings.
The once intriguing discussions of the past now seemed daunting, and Samuel felt ill-prepared to take on his father's duties. The silence of the palace was a constant reminder of his solitude, and the mourning sound that echoed through his window seemed to resonate with his sorrow.
With a heavy heart, Samuel lay down on his bed, pulling his white cotton sheets over himself. The palace, once a bustling hub of activity, was now a solemn sanctuary, its halls echoing with the sound of his breath.
The mournful sound that echoed through Samuel's window stirred him from his bed. He couldn't pinpoint the source of the sobbing, but the sound stirred a sense of discomfort within him. Without hesitation, he walked towards his wardrobe and pulled out a white robe emblazoned with the blackthorn symbol, draping it over his body.
Samuel left his room, closing the door behind him as he followed the sound of the crying. He descended the stairs, using the upper furnished guiding plank, the thirty foot steps leading him down to the parlor and the king's throne. Though no one was in sight, the sound of a woman's sobbing filled the air.
Samuel's footsteps echoed through the empty halls, each step bringing him closer to the source of the mournful cries. Though he was unsure of who was weeping, he felt a sense of responsibility to offer comfort, his own grief momentarily set aside in the face of another's sorrow.
The palace was now a solemn place, its halls filled with echoes of the past and the weight of the future that awaited its new king. And as Samuel continued his search, he couldn't help but wonder who was crying, and what he could do to ease the person pain, he saw no one around but he kept hearing the sound of a crying woman.
Samuel ascended the second set of stairs on the left side, drawn towards the source of the sobbing. Though he sensed that the sound wasn't coming from his mother's room, he knocked gently on the door, his knuckles rapping against the wood. But no response came.
He turned the doorknob and stepped inside, only to find the room empty. The absence of his mother did nothing to alleviate his growing obsession with finding the source of the mournful cries. With a sense of urgency, he made his way back to the sitting room, tracing the demarcated lines to the right stair.
But instead of continuing upwards, he turned left, following the path to the dining hall. He pushed open the double doors, but found the hall devoid of any occupants. The echo of the sobbing still filled the air, but its source remained elusive.
Samuel's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he hurried through the palace halls, checking each room in turn. The sound of the sobbing grew fainter and more intermittent, as if teasing him with its elusive presence.
The once familiar palace now seemed foreign, its empty halls a testament to the weight of his father's absence. And as he continued his search, Samuel couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over him. "Who was crying, and why couldn't he find the person?".
Samuel dashed outside, desperate to find the source of the sobbing. He rushed towards the main entrance of the palace, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. But the sound seemed even fainter, as if coming from a distance.
With a heavy heart, Samuel walked back inside, his face etched with sadness. He made his way towards the grand majesty sit, its grandeur a stark contrast to the emptiness he felt. The road ahead led to the courtyard, and he couldn't help but wonder if the sound was coming from there.
Samuel pushed open the ornately crafted double doors of the courtyard, his heart pounding in his chest. The walls were adorned with ancient wild art, the intricate designs a testament to the palace's rich history. The centerpiece of the room was a shimmering swimming pool, its surface reflecting the birds that soared through the clear blue sky.
The circular room was supported by grand pillars, their strength mirrored by the concrete walls and the polished wooden plank flooring that gave the palace a timeless elegance. The fusion of concrete and wood was a testament to the palace's enduring allure, a reflection of the ages that had passed within its walls.
A lush garden adorned the pool's edge, its vibrant flowers adding a splash of color to the serene scene. But it was the majestic blackthorn tree that caught Samuel's eye, its branches heavy with blossoms. And as he stepped into the courtyard, the source of the mournful cries became clear.
His mother, her body racked with sobs, sat on a luxurious couch beneath the blackthorn tree. The sight of her, grief-stricken and alone, filled Samuel with a sense of pity. He rushed towards her, his footsteps echoing through the quiet courtyard.
As he drew closer, the sound of her weeping grew louder, the raw emotion in her cries resonating within him. Samuel's heart ached for his mother, her pain a mirror of his own.
The Queen Dowager sat in a luxurious, furnished chair, her gaze fixed on the Blackthorn tree that stood before her. Her tears flowed freely, her sobs echoing through the quiet courtyard. Her fair complexion was marred by the grief that consumed her, her pointed nose reddened by her weeping.
At seventieth years of age, the Queen Dowager was a picture of elegance, her white hair cascading down her back in a silken waterfall. But the weight of her sorrow was evident in the lines that creased her face, her eyes swollen and red from her tears.
As she untangled her long hair, her fingers trembling with emotion, she forced herself to stop crying, her wrinkled skin contracting with the effort. But the pain of her loss was too much to bear, and her tears continued to fall, her sorrow a mirror of the loss that had befallen her family.
Samuel stood beside his mother, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. He tried to offer her comfort, but her sobs continued unabated. As she turned to look at him, her gaze was filled with a restless energy, her eyes reflecting a pain that seemed to consume her very being.
In that moment, Samuel saw the toll that his father's passing had taken on his mother. She seemed lost, her spirit broken by the loss of her beloved husband. Her face was etched with sorrow, her body racked with sobs that echoed through the courtyard.
Samuel's heart broke for his mother, her pain a mirror of his own. He wanted to take away her suffering, to offer her the comfort she so desperately needed. But as he looked into her eyes, he saw the depth of her grief, and he realized that there were no words that could ease her pain.
The Queen Dowager's tears flowed freely, her anguish a testament to the love she had for her husband. She stared at Samuel, her son, the man who was now tasked with leading their kingdom into the future. But in that moment, she seemed lost, her grief overpowering her will to go on.
The Queen Dowager's grief overwhelmed her, and she cried out to the sky, "Why me? Who did this to my husband? Why did the world take him from me?"
Samuel tried to offer comfort, saying, "Mother, you shouldn't blame yourself."
"Destiny and fate cannot be changed," he added. "Let's leave it in God's hands."
But the Queen Dowager was inconsolable, yelling at Samuel, "How dare you..."