Elara
Despite the peaceful days stretching out, a persistent shadow hung over the kingdom. The war, although it had ended with the defeat of Duke Darven, left behind a void that was hard to fill. The kingdom was broken, its lands devastated, and the scars on Aldric's soul were still fresh. Even though peace seemed to have been restored, the ghosts of the past—decisions made and losses suffered—continued to haunt the king.
Aldric and I spent more and more time together. Sometimes we met in the castle gardens, sometimes in the small rooms where the administrative tasks of the court were handled. Our exchanges were now marked by a tentative, sometimes fragile, but always sincere camaraderie. Yet, something lingered in the air, an unspoken tension, an uncertainty that sometimes distanced us despite ourselves.
One evening, after finishing a meeting with his advisors, Aldric sought me out. I was in the archives room, organizing documents related to compensation for the local lords. When he entered, I looked up from my work, a discreet smile on my lips. But as soon as my eyes met his face, my smile faded slightly. He looked troubled, as if carrying an invisible burden.
"Elara," he began, his voice deeper than usual. "There are things I haven't been able to say. Choices I made during the war that still haunt me. I've always believed my actions were justified, but now, I'm not so sure."
I slowly stood up, placing my papers on the table. I knew this moment would come—that the king, so fragile in his moments of sincerity, would eventually confront his past. And I, in my role as an attentive observer, had to listen, without judgment.
"What are you talking about?" I asked gently, stepping closer to him.
Aldric took a deep breath, his gaze drifting away for a moment. He hesitated before speaking again, as though searching for the words to describe what weighed on his heart.
"During the war, I had to make cruel decisions. Lives were sacrificed to preserve the kingdom, and I couldn't always prevent that. But there's one decision I've never been able to forget: the life of my own brother."
A strange tension filled the room. I knew that Aldric had lost his brother under tragic circumstances, but I had never known the full story. The king, always mysterious about this subject, had never revealed the details.
"Your brother?" I repeated, surprised. "You never spoke of him."
Aldric turned his gaze to me, a flash of pain crossing his eyes. "He was a good man, Elara. A man I loved deeply, despite our differences. But during the war, when the troops were scattered, I had to make a difficult choice. My brother, who was fighting against me, fell into an ambush. I let him fight, and… he died. I could have intervened, I could have saved his life. But I chose to let him die, because it would have compromised everything I was fighting for."
The words struck my heart like a dagger. I moved closer to him, my throat tight, trying to understand the complexity of what he had just shared. This was not a simple act of cruelty, but a heavy burden for a man who had chosen war over family ties.
"I've never stopped blaming myself," Aldric continued, his voice breaking. "I don't know how to make amends for this wrong. I killed my own brother to preserve my power. And that… that can never be fixed."
I felt the warmth of his pain in his eyes, and in a moment of clarity, I understood that everything he had gone through could not be erased by a simple act of redemption. Aldric was haunted by ghosts he had never faced, decisions he had made out of duty but that, deep down, had destroyed him.
"I can't change what I did," he whispered, his head bowed. "And I don't expect you to forgive me. But I wanted you to know, to understand what I had to live with."
I moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. I couldn't offer him a solution, nor erase his guilt, but I could simply be there. "You've carried this burden alone for so long,"