Elara
The days at the palace were long and monotonous for me. I spent my time performing various tasks: cleaning the halls, preparing meals, and ensuring the royal chambers were well maintained. Every movement seemed governed by invisible rules, a silent dance where there was no room for mistakes. The hierarchy was strictly observed, and every servant, no matter how humble, knew that their place was inferior to that of the nobles, and even more so to that of the king.
The palace, vast and labyrinthine, was also a place of intrigue and whispers. The nobles would cross paths in the corridors, exchanging words in low voices, and every glance could carry hidden meanings. I didn't always understand the subtleties of these power games, but I instinctively knew my role was to remain discreet, invisible. However, there was one aspect of the court I could not ignore: the palpable tension emanating from King Aldric.
Every time I crossed his gaze, even briefly, a strange sensation would overtake me. A mix of fear and curiosity. I knew I was just a simple servant and would never dare to imagine any more intimate encounters, but a part of me couldn't help feeling a strange attraction to this man. I saw him every day, sitting on his throne, issuing orders, ruthless and distant, but sometimes, in his moments of solitude, he seemed so vulnerable, almost human.
The palace servants often whispered stories about the king. They talked about his rise to the throne, the battles he had fought, the enemies he had crushed. But they also spoke, sometimes, of his loneliness, how he had locked himself away in a fortress of ice after the death of his wife, many years ago. His heart, they said, had hardened at that moment, and he had never sought to love again.
I had never known love the way the nobles spoke of it, but I knew what it was to feel the warmth of a gaze, the softness of a hand, even if that was rare. And though the king did not seem like a man who could offer such feelings, I could not help but wonder. Perhaps one day, something would change. Perhaps under this steel exterior, there was a man capable of deep feelings.
One day, as I was crossing the great courtyard to deliver refreshments to the royal council members, something unexpected happened. A group of nobles was gathered around the fountain, talking animatedly about political matters. I passed by them, focused on my task, but a raised voice made me stop dead in my tracks.
"Have you heard about the king these past few days?" asked one of the lords, a tall man with a hard gaze. "They say he's becoming… more solitary. He trusts no one anymore."
I tried not to pay attention, but the words I overheard struck me. The king, alone, withdrawn into himself. It was exactly what I had felt when seeing him, those moments when he stood alone on the castle terraces, looking at the stars or the distant landscape with an expression of worry and melancholy.
"Don't you think he could rid himself of this… weakness?" another noble continued. "A king who doubts is a king who loses his throne. He must learn to be firmer."
The murmurs continued, but I turned my eyes away. I knew my thoughts had no place in these discussions. I was just a humble servant. I had no right to imagine that the king, this ruthless man, could be anything other than a distant sovereign. And yet, a small voice deep inside me whispered that perhaps, behind the hard exterior of the king, there was something much more complex and fragile.
The following days unfolded in the same routine. I carried out my tasks, always making sure to maintain a respectful distance from the king, never looking at him longer than necessary. However, I began to notice details I hadn't observed before. The king often seemed tired, his features drawn, as if carrying an invisible burden. I would see him go into the great war hall, alone, before returning to his throne. He would stay there, sometimes for hours, staring at maps and letters from different regions of the kingdom. Even