The chamber glowed softly with gentle blue flames that floated in the air, casting delicate shadows on the arched ceiling. The atmosphere was still, yet charged with tension. King Elion Calynor sat upright in a high-backed chair made of silverwood, draped in a flowing robe adorned with celestial runes. Next to him, Queen Selyra Calynor tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the armrest, her eyes fixed on the old elf standing between them.
This elf, ancient and bent but with sharp eyes, leaned on a staff crafted from the roots of the World Tree. His name was Elder Nethros, an archivist and seer who had guided three generations of rulers. "So," the King began, his voice low yet authoritative, "you've been watching the boy?"
Nethros nodded slowly. "Yes, your majesty. He's about fourteen winters old. His magic is… unstable. He hasn't received any formal training. And yet…" He paused, his gaze drifting to the hearth where the embers flickered quietly. "And yet, he moved as if he had been tempered in fire. His instincts were… unusual. And so was his restraint." Queen Selyra narrowed her eyes. "Please, elaborate."
"According to his statement he followed those slavers silently. He killed without making a sound. Not out of anger. Not for fame. He simply acted swiftly, efficiently, and with precision. When he returned the girls… he didn't even mention what he had done." The Queen exchanged a glance with her husband. "That is… not typical for most humans."
King Elion steepled his fingers. "Do you think he poses a danger?"
Nethros offered a wry smile. "Dangerous? Yes. But not in the way you might think. He's a blade still in the process of being forged. Raw, but not shattered. If anything…" He stepped closer. "He's a boy bearing a burden far heavier than his years."
Queen Selyra's voice softened. "He reminds me of someone… from before the war."
Elion nodded. "Many would have taken the girls' gratitude and run. He asked for no reward. No recognition. Yet, he stayed to ensure their safety."
Nethros lifted his staff slightly, ready to continue. King Elion rose slowly to his feet. "Bring him to the Verdant Hall. We need to see for ourselves who this Lucien really is." The golden morning light streamed through the beautifully carved windows of Lucien's temporary room. Even though the sun warmed the space, he sat on the edge of the bed, slightly hunched over, his gaze lost in thought.
His mind kept replaying the moment they captured him.
The stunned silence.
The feeling of betrayal.
The way Ellari and Lina just… stood there.
A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. The door creaked open, revealing Ellari, the older of the two girls, her fiery red hair neatly tied back. Behind her, Lina stood quietly, her fingers nervously fidgeting.
Lucien remained silent.
They stepped inside anyway.
"Lucien…" Ellari started, but her voice faltered. "We… we didn't know how to explain everything." He looked up, his voice flat but not filled with anger. "You didn't have to." Lina took a step closer. "We didn't mean to trick you. We really didn't. We just… didn't think you'd come with us if you knew."
"You're princesses." Lucien stood up, the wooden floor creaking under his boots. "And I'm just some human kid. It all makes sense now." Ellari flinched at the bitterness in his tone, but he wasn't shouting. His words were cold and controlled almost too mature for someone his age.
Lina lowered her gaze. "They wouldn't have believed you saved us unless they saw us safe. That's why we didn't stop them at first… we were scared." Ellari stepped closer, placing something on the table beside him a small satchel filled with dried fruit and bread, along with a hand-carved wooden pin shaped like a leaf.
"I don't know what they'll decide," she said softly, "but we told our parents everything. That you saved us. Protected us. We told them who you are, Lucien… as best as we could."
Lucien stared at the pin, admiring the gentle curve of its craftsmanship. A soft knock echoed from outside, followed by the voice of a guard. "Lucien. The King and Queen are ready to see you now." The grand doors creaked open, unveiling a corridor adorned with pale green marble and cascading vines. Lucien stepped forward slowly, flanked by two silent guards. His hands were free, but his heart was heavy with uncertainty.
The Verdant Hall was a sight to behold natural stone walls intertwined with living crystal, tree branches seamlessly blending with the architecture, and a magnificent silver throne at its heart, shaped like blooming leaves.
On that throne sat King Elion Calynor, a tall figure draped in royal green, his eyes reflecting centuries of wisdom. Beside him was Queen Selyra, regal and sharp-eyed, exuding an aura that was both warm and unsettling. To the right stood Elder Nethros, the aged seer, who offered a single nod to Lucien.
Lucien bowed, feeling a bit awkward. "Lucien," the King began, "We've heard that you risked your life to protect our daughters." Lucien straightened up. "They were in danger. I did what anyone would have done." Queen Selyra leaned in closer. "No. Most would have turned away. Few would have silently tracked slavers. Even fewer would have stayed behind to ensure their safety."
Lucien shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't do it for gratitude."
"Then why?" Nethros asked gently.
A long silence hung in the air.
Finally, Lucien spoke from the heart: "Because I know what it's like… to feel alone. To be taken. To think no one is coming for you." Queen Selyra blinked, her expression unreadable. The King let out a deep breath. "You have our gratitude, Lucien. And we apologize for how you've been treated."
"You are no longer a prisoner," Selyra added. "You are our guest now." Nethros stepped forward. "And perhaps even more than that. There's so much we don't understand about you, Lucien. I'd like to learn if you're open to it." Lucien looked up slowly.
"...What do you want from me?"
The King's answer was simple. "Nothing... but your story."
"Nothing... but your story."