Chapter 268: His Redemption 2
He stood there in silence, his gaze fixed on his mother’s portrait, lost in a flood of memory and emotion. The room—her sanctuary—wrapped around him like a forgotten lullaby. It smelled faintly of lavender and rose, and every corner whispered echoes of his childhood: the soft rustle of her dress, the warmth of her touch, the beautiful voice that gently hummed lullabies.
He hadn’t stepped foot in this boudoir in two months. Not since that night. He’d always thought his sneaking in had gone unnoticed, but now he knew—his father had known all along.
King Heimdal stood by the vanity, his broad frame silhouetted against the golden candlelight. The flames danced on the polished marble, casting trembling shadows that made the portrait of Astrid appear almost alive. Her painted eyes—soft, intelligent, haunting—gazed down at them both.
"You have her eyes," the king said, voice low and strained. "That is why I couldn’t look at you. Every time I did, I saw the reminder of what I lost... of what I failed to protect."
He lifted a trembling hand and let his fingers hover just above the painted curve of her cheek. His touch never landed—just a whisper of longing in the air. "She died under my watch. I failed her." His voice cracked like splintering glass.
Without looking at Alaric, Heimdal reached for a decanter and poured deep red wine into a second glass. He offered it, but Alaric’s arms remained unmoved, his hands rooted at his sides. The king placed the untouched glass gently on the counter beneath Astrid’s image, a quiet offering.
"I wronged you, son," Heimdal said, his voice thick with regret. He did not look at Alaric, but at Astrid—his eyes pleading with pain. "I was a terrible father. And now, standing before her, I am ashamed. But I want her forgiveness, even if it is too late... and yours too."
His next words were barely audible, a breath more than a confession: "I was a coward. Still am." He exhaled shakily, eyes glistening. "When she died, something in me broke. I drowned in guilt... and when I saw you—so fragile, so small, so broken—I was afraid. Terrified that I would lose you too." The king choked with emotions so raw that he almost could not breathe. "If I, even as a king could not protect my beloved from the malice of the politics in the palace, I was scared that I could not protect you, and that you would leave me to."
Emotion surged through him, raw and unfiltered. His shoulders trembled. His grip on the wineglass tightened until his knuckles turned white.