Given had always admired the Queen. It was something he didn't have to think twice about—it just was. Elara belonged in her role as Queen, not just because of her title or lineage, but because of her essence. She carried herself with grace and strength, but if you ever had the chance to glimpse her without her walls, you would see how deeply righteous of a woman she was.
Being the daughter of the goddess and ruler of an entire kingdom didn't just fit her; it was her destiny. Yet, even in her divinity, there was a humanity about her—a warmth that shone through the cracks. The people always sought to confirm she was human, prodding her for proof. But wasn't her love for them, her unwavering dedication, proof enough?
One thing Given couldn't deny, though, was the role Darius played in shaping her. As much as he disliked the man, Darius had revealed facets of Elara no one else could. He brought out her best—her compassion, her strength. But the man who brought out her imperfections, her raw, unpolished sides, was Leroy. That man challenged her in ways even the kingdom's critics couldn't.
Given stood by the glass slide, staring out into the dense forest beyond the palace grounds. The memories of their past life played in his mind like a reel. It had been good—safe, even—until everything changed.
He didn't want to keep Elara in the dark, but he dreaded the inevitable moment when the truth came to light. Would she shatter again? Or would she hold onto the pain this time, face it, and channel it into justice against those who wronged her?
And then there was Darius. Maybe, just maybe, he would explain himself. Maybe they could find a way forward. Given knew the truth: Elara cherished Darius more than the kingdom itself.
He couldn't lie to himself, nor could Leroy or anyone else who knew the truth. Darius was the reason Elara was here in the first place. Her obsession with the man had brought her to them, the daughter of the moon goddess, walking among mortals. Without him, they might never have discovered her divine heritage. Leroy deserved some credit too, though Given hated to admit it.
All these thoughts swirled in Given's mind as his gaze shifted from the forest back to the Queen. And as his eyes fell on her, he felt a wave of gratitude—for the people and circumstances that had brought him to her, the rightful Queen, Elara.
A faint commotion drew his attention to the door. With a sigh, he placed his tea down and stepped out to investigate.
In the hallway, he found the Queen Mother and Evelyn standing by the guards. Evelyn, ever the quiet observer, stood back while the Queen Mother argued fiercely.
"This is ridiculous. I need to see the Queen," the Queen Mother barked, her tone sharp, her irritation barely masked. Her face, as always, carried the perpetual scowl that seemed tied to her anger.
Given straightened his posture as he faced the Queen Mother, his calm demeanor unwavering despite the tension hanging in the air. "May I ask why you need to see the Queen, Your Grace? So early in the morning?" His voice was measured, respectful yet firm.
The Queen Mother's gaze sharpened. "I do mind," she retorted curtly, her tone clipped.
An awkward silence followed, filling the space between them like an unspoken battle of wills. Evelyn shifted slightly, her expression unreadable, but the weight of the tension forced her to speak. She opened her mouth , lowering her self esteem unlike the two , but before she could utter a word, the Queen Mother's voice cut through the air once more.
"It is early, yes. The high ministers are arriving shortly to discuss the rogue werewolves and other pressing matters. I need a moment with the Queen before the meeting begins." Her words were as cold and precise as a blade, leaving no room for debate.
Given inclined his head politely. "Of course, Your Grace. I will inform her as soon as she has woken and taken her bath."
Before he could continue, the Queen Mother interjected with a commanding tone. "Good. Enter the room and prepare the Queen immediately."
Nancy and Gina, the Queen's handmaids, stepped forward at the order. The guards, however, hesitated, their gazes flickering uncertainly between the handmaids and Given. With a subtle nod, Given granted them permission, and the guards stepped aside to let the handmaids pass.
The Queen Mother turned on her heel, ready to walk away, but Given wasn't finished.
"Your Grace," he called after her, his tone still respectful, though tinged with curiosity. "May I respectfully ask why the Queen needs to stop by you before the court meeting? As her right hand, I could—"
"Right hand?" The Queen Mother turned abruptly, amusement glinting in her sharp eyes as she fixed him with a chilling smile. "And who passed that title to you?"
Given didn't flinch under her scrutiny. "The Queen herself," he replied evenly. "And if I may remind you, Your Grace, before you came into the Queen's life, I was her right hand. Should she require any advice or guidance before the court meeting, it is my duty to provide it. If I am not present, the court lady, Morgana, is entrusted to step in."
The mention of the past—and Morgana—caused a subtle shift in the Queen Mother's expression. Her face, once animated with sharp amusement, turned blank, her features darkening with something unreadable.
Without a word of acknowledgment or rebuttal, the Queen Mother turned and walked away. Her silence spoke volumes, a tacit acknowledgment of Given's point, though her posture suggested she was far from conceding defeat. She agreed on the term of Elara seeing to Given's advice and guidance but she would also need her to come and see her before the court meeting too .
After the Queen Mother left the corridor, Evelyn turned to look at Given. The two locked eyes for a moment before silently agreeing to leave the corridor. As they walked down the hall together, their footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors, filling the silence between them.
"My apologies for my outrage the other day," Evelyn said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
Given glanced at her, feigning surprise. "Stop it," she added, rolling her eyes as she lightly hit his shoulder. The force of her newfound strength was anything but light, but Given barely acknowledged it, letting the moment pass without comment.
"I truly am sorry," Evelyn continued. "I can actually lower my self-esteem when required—unlike some other people."
They came to a halt, stopping far enough from the guards and the Queen's door to ensure privacy but still close enough to feel tethered to their duties. Evelyn turned to Given again, studying his profile as he stared ahead. When he finally looked at her, his tone was light but teasing.
"It's no worries, princess. Apology accepted. And if you don't mind, I'd advise stepping away from that sunlight before you turn into bacon."
Evelyn laughed, her lips curving into a grin. "Oww, bacon?"
"Yes," Given replied, his expression unchanging but his tone dripping with dry humor. "Or would you prefer to be fried into something else?"
"I'd rather not be fried, thank you," Evelyn said, matching his playful tone.
"Tell me all about it," Given replied. "But before that, maybe you can tell me the reason you were seeking my presence that night. It seemed... pretty important."
Evelyn paused, the humor fading slightly from her face. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, and as the words began to form, their quiet conversation deepened into something more serious.