Vishendor's unlikely Queen

General's Quarters,velmira

"General, you sent for me?" I asked, stepping in with quiet reluctance.

The general didn't look up at first. He stood by the window, hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the training field beyond.

"Yes, Theron," he said at last. "About the list I requested. The one for the new recruits."

He paused, turning slightly toward me, waiting.

I hesitated. Ariel's voice echoed in my mind—her plea, her determination. "Just add my name to the list, brother."

"Theron," the General's voice snapped me back. "I know this comes at a bad time, but the king wants that list by sundown."

"I haven't compiled it yet," I admitted. "But I'll get it done. I just… need more time for inspection."

The general studied me in silence.

"How soon?"

"By nightfall," I said firmly. "You'll have it."

His face softened, just a touch.

"No need for promises. I trust you. There's a reason you're my second."

A rare smile flickered across his face before he turned and walked away.

---

Training Grounds, Velmira

The cold bit into my skin as I returned to the field, but the sight of my sister made the air feel warmer.

Ariel was mid-swing, her cheeks flushed, blonde hair catching the last light of the afternoon. She saw me and straightened, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Theron," she said with a playful frown, arms crossed like a scolding noblewoman.

I jogged toward her with a lopsided grin.

"And what's with that royal pout?" I asked, catching my breath.

"And what's with the royal delay?" she fired back. "You, of all people, should know better than to keep a lady waiting."

"Forgive me, my lady," I said with a mock bow. "I was overwhelmed by your radiance."

She rolled her eyes, but laughter broke from both of us like a shared secret.

In that moment, the worries of the war, the king's demands, and the future faded. All I saw was my sister—strong, stubborn, and relentless—and I knew I had to give her the chance she craved.

---

Philip's Chambers, Vishendor's castle

I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing the bridge of my nose, when the door flew open.

There she was.

Catelyn.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the same way they always did when she saw right through me.

"And how was the meeting, my love?" she asked, stepping into the room like sunlight.

"Hectic," I replied, my voice heavy.

She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to my cheek.

"But you handled it like you always do. With strength."

I looked at her, the one person who never bowed her head before me—because she never had to. Catelyn was the stillness in my storm.

"I drew a bath for you," she whispered. "Take a moment to breathe. Dinner will be ready soon."

I nodded. Words felt small compared to what she meant to me.

My Catelyn — the voice that calms the fire, the touch that reminds me I'm still human.

As she walked out, the scent of lavender lingered. For the first time all day, I let out a real breath.

And I smiled.

---

I descended the stairs slowly, the weight of the day still clinging to my shoulders like a heavy cloak. But the aroma of warm bread and roasted meat pulled me out of my thoughts, and as I stepped into the dining hall, I paused.

Candles flickered gently across the wooden table, casting soft golden halos. Catelyn had already set the plates—roasted duck, honeyed carrots, and that cinnamon sauce she knew I loved.

She looked up from pouring wine into two goblets, her smile blooming like spring in a stone garden.

"You're just in time," she said. "I thought you might hide upstairs until morning."

"I considered it," I murmured, crossing the room, "but the scent of your cooking dragged me down."

I sat beside her, letting her pour the wine with the ease of a woman who'd done it a thousand times for the man she loved.

"You were quiet today," she said softly. "Even more than usual. Something happened with the king?"

I hesitated. Took a sip, then met her gaze.

"He was angry. Not the usual kind. Not politics or court tension… this was different. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was colder. Sharper."

Catelyn listened, resting her chin lightly on her palm.

"You've known Simon since you were boys, Philip. He doesn't open up easily… but he trusts you."

"I know," I said, leaning back in my chair. "But today… he felt unreachable."

She reached across the table, brushing her fingers gently over mine.

"He's your king, yes. But he's also your best friend. If he's falling into darkness, you're one of the few who can pull him back. Don't give up on him."

Before I could reply, the door burst open with a soft clang, and a high-pitched voice filled the air.

"Papa!"

Meera ran in barefoot, her copper curls bouncing wildly, a wide grin on her face. She carried something in her hand—it looked like a drawing sheet.

"You're late," she said, climbing into my lap without asking permission. "But I'll forgive you. Because guess what I saw today?"she said grinning wildly.

"A dragon?" I asked.

"No."

"A wizard?"

"Papa!" she giggled. 'A horse. But not just any horse—it was white! And tall. And it had stars in its eyes."

Catelyn chuckled.

"It was probably the knight's steed from the east gate patrol. They passed by the castle this afternoon."

"No, Mama. This one was different," Meera insisted, showing us the drawing. "He looked like he could fly if he wanted to."

I took the parchment and nodded with solemn admiration.

"A fine sketch," I said. "Perhaps one day, you'll ride such a horse into battle and save the kingdom."

"Or paint it into a story that saves someone's heart," Catelyn added, tousling her hair."Now hurry up and eat before it gets cold."

We ate slowly, the room filled with laughter, shared stories, and the soft clinking of cutlery. For a while, there were no kings, no courts, no blood-soaked politics—only this: warmth, laughter, and the quiet peace of being loved.

------------

🚫Encourage me by voting with your power stones.🚫