Chapter 229 --229
Truthfully, they were deeply jealous. They’d wanted their own sons to become king, and they’d been relieved when Larus married away, removing him from succession.
But they were also bitter. Why did ’he’ get to become consort to such a powerful empire? Why did ’he’ receive that opportunity instead of their sons?
Life was unfair.
After escaping the stepmothers, Larus walked toward the western palace—his mother’s residence.
He didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he stood outside, looking at the modest building that seemed so small compared to the other consorts’ lavish quarters.
Inside, he could see her through the open meditation pavilion—sitting in perfect stillness, her back straight, her breathing controlled.
She spoke without opening her eyes, without turning around:
"Are you not coming in?"
Larus paused.
All the coolness, all the calculated composure, all the cold authority he’d displayed before his father—it vanished instantly.
He motioned for the guard to stay outside. The guard nodded, understanding. Besides, shadow guards were already hidden throughout the area, providing security.
Larus entered the pavilion alone.
He looked at his mother—and saw himself.
The woman was about 80% identical to him in appearance. The same blue eyes. The same golden-wheat hair. The same warm wheat-colored skin tone. She wore her hair short, practical—unlike the elaborate styles favored by other palace women.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him with genuine warmth.
"I thought you would come," she said softly.
Larus felt something tight in his chest loosen. "Of course. How could I not?"
For a long moment, they just looked at each other.
Then Larus’s careful composure completely crumbled.
He crossed the space between them in three strides and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist like a child seeking comfort.
"Mother," he said, his voice breaking slightly.
She stroked his hair gently, the way she’d done when he was small and frightened.
"My brave son," she murmured. "My brilliant boy. Look how strong you’ve become."
"I’m not strong," Larus said against her robes. "I’m terrified all the time. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I just—"
His mother stopped patting his back gently and cupped his face in both hands, tilting it up so he had to meet her eyes.
"Larus," she said softly, "do you know why I gave you this name? Even when there were thousands of traditional options, even when your father opposed it so strongly?"
Larus shook his head slightly. "I always assumed it was because you wanted me to have something different. Something that set me apart."
She smiled sadly and shook her head.
"In the language of the land where my mother came from, ’Larus’ means seabird. A bird known for its freedom, its wandering nature, its sharp survival instincts. It’s a creature that can live between two worlds—land and sea—belonging fully to neither but able to navigate both."
She stroked his cheek gently.
"I gave you this name because the day you were born, I saw it in you. The way you grabbed my finger with such force—that strength couldn’t belong to an ordinary child. The survival instinct you showed even as an infant. And the freedom I wanted you to feel, the freedom I never could have."
Her eyes glistened slightly.
"That is who Larus is. I trained you myself, even after I was confined to this place. I raised you with my own hands, not with some distant tutor or hired teacher. You are the student and the son I am most proud of in my entire life."
Larus nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "And you are the best teacher anyone could wish for, Mother. The best."
She smiled and looked toward the small window—not the grand, sweeping windows of Heena’s palace, but a modest opening. Not large enough to escape through, but sufficient to see the outside world.
Looking at that window, she continued:
"You know, when I was young, I went to war. I fought against everyone because I wanted freedom. But I never truly achieved it. And honestly, I was never brave enough to seize it when the opportunity came."
She turned back to Larus.
"But your wife—this woman you married—I’ve heard tales of her. The woman who walked into war alone and made the ground run red with enemy blood. The woman who rules the strongest empire on this continent with absolute authority."
Her expression became more serious.
"When I first heard you wanted to marry her, do you know what my first thought was? It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t happiness. It was *fear*."
Larus looked at her questioningly.
"Because I know you," she explained. "I gave birth to you. I raised you. I know you better than you know yourself. And I knew that with such a strong woman, you would want to possess her completely. But the problem is—in trying to possess her, you would lose yourself entirely."
She stood and walked to the window, her back to him.
"Larus, I’ve been confined within these walls for so many years that I don’t even remember what true freedom looks like. Servants run to obey my orders, guards follow my commands—but I’m never free from the expectations, the duties, the invisible chains."
She turned to face him again.
"Even if I died today, I would die imprisoned. But you—you were always different. I never wanted you to participate in the bloody succession battles that consume this kingdom, because this kingdom doesn’t deserve your sacrifice."
Her voice became firm.
"There are many excellent princes who could inherit this throne. Too many candidates, in fact. And I didn’t want you to rule this empire by climbing over their corpses. That’s why I always wanted you to marry far away from here. To find your own path."
She smiled slightly.
"And you chose the best possible option."
Walking back to him, she continued:
"As a mother, I should wish for your happiness and a peaceful married life. But instead, I want you to be so strong that no one can shake you. No one can break you."
She paused.
"I heard about the resources the Empress gave you on your wedding day. The titles, the authority, the wealth."
Larus remained silent, listening intently.
"I was shocked when I first learned the amount," his mother admitted. "But after my own investigation, I confirmed it was all true. From the letters you’ve sent me, I could verify the details."
She looked at him seriously.
"It was shocking, Larus. For any ruler—any empress—to give away half their power to someone else? Even granting 10% would be extraordinary. But she gave you approximately 30% of the empire’s resources and authority."
Her expression became gentle but sad.
"And I can tell you one thing with certainty, my son: I’m not sure that woman loves you."
Larus flinched as if struck.
Of course he knew. How could he not? But he’d never wanted to hear it said aloud, because as long as it remained unspoken, he could pretend it wasn’t true.
His mother continued relentlessly but kindly:
"I’ve seen your father’s so-called ’love.’ I’ve witnessed my parents’ devotion to their nation. I’ve seen many relationships in my life—far more than you have. And I can say with certainty: the way she treats you shows respect, companionship, partnership... but not romantic love."
She smiled slightly.
"And honestly? I’m impressed. With your beauty and intelligence, you’re not easy to resist. Most people would fall completely. Yet she remains so clear-minded, so focused. That takes remarkable strength."