“I’ll be better with one of mine,” he replied wistfully, his mind drifting to a future that might never come to pass.
As they stood in silence, the crackling of the fire and the occasional whimper of the child filling the room, Darian felt a sudden sense of connection to his mother.
Perhaps it was the flickering flames casting a soft glow on her features, or the vulnerability of the young child in her arms. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if there was more to her than he had ever known.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “For barging in here like this. I should have knocked.”
Nymira smiled at him, a glint of mischief in her eye. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.
“You’re always welcome here, whether I’m dressed or not.”
Nymira’s gaze drifted over him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she began. “Maybe it’s time we spend more time together, just the two of us. We can go for walks, talk about anything and everything.”
Darian’s eyes widened in surprise. It had been years since they had done anything like that. He had always assumed that his mother was too busy with her duties as queen to spend time with him.
“Guess It wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Thanks, mother.”
The doors creaked open, as they had done so many times before, and Braga barged in, bellowing out his usual command.
“The King demands your presence in the throne room, my lady,” he announced, his tone harsh and gruff.
Nymira let out a weary sigh. “Very well,” she said, resigned. “Please summon Gertrude to take the child.”
Turning her attention back to Darian, she added, “I apologize for the abruptness of my departure, Darian. Duty calls.”
“It’s quite alright,” Darian replied, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I’ll take my leave then,” he muttered, and walked out of the chamber, the door shutting behind him with a resounding thud.
CHAPTER 3
That night, memories flooded Darian’s mind of a warm summer day from years ago.
The memory of Inguria battling against the first Barbarian attacks, and he, Nome, and other soldiers sitting around a crackling campfire, singing songs. The camaraderie and sense of brotherhood among the soldiers were palpable. Nome, with his bushy chestnut beard, had gazed up at the star-filled sky and said, “The air of home is sweeter than honey.”
Darian, taking a bite of the juicy apple he had plucked from a nearby tree, had voiced his concern. “But aren’t you afraid of tomorrow’s battle? We could die tomorrow.”
“It’s better to die fighting for our freedom than to live without it,” replied Nome. “To live as we choose, eat until our bellies are full, and sleep with whomever we please.” The soldiers nodded in agreement, their voices joining in support of Nome’s words. His eloquence never failed to inspire them.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers broke the moment with a joke. “I’m in love with my aunt. Can I sleep with her?” he laughed.
Nome’s response was quick, “If you’re worthy of her, my friend, then you can. That’s freedom. Marry and sleep with whoever you want. Even with your own mother.”
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