Chapter 30 - Sleeping King

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Chapter 30

 

 

Since the day Aurelian Samuel Twydal, prince of the Kingdom of Twydal, fell into his deep slumber, a day passed, then a week—and before long, the long winter came to its end. The animals that had hibernated awoke, running freely beneath the light of spring. And yet, even now, Aurelian did not open his eyes.

 

It was a sorrowful thing, but Fisé watched over the sleeping prince with calm patience.

 

Once at the edge of death, Aurelian now breathed steadily, and the rhythm of his heart had stabilized.

 

His body was warm, and even in sleep, he was slowly growing.

 

"Aurelian… Her Majesty the Queen has sent you a new book."

 

Fisé whispered softly beside his ear, seated upon the bed of white roses—large enough to be a small chamber—that he had shaped by the pond's edge.

 

Within the thorned forest encircling the Eleria Palace—now known throughout the realm as the Sleeping Forest, for its role in shielding the prince's sleep—Fisé had spent each day by Aurelian's side, resting little and continuously pouring his fae magic into the young man's healing.

 

Though his body was not human, Fisé was not without the weariness that came from holding the same posture for too long. There were times when he longed to wander the forest for a breath of fresh air, or to relax inside the villa's warm rooms. But he had resolved that the only moments he would part from Aurelian were when tending to the horse.

 

After all, it had been his own doing—he had been the one to hurt Aurelian. Whatever he did now to care for him was only just.

 

He clung to the hope of seeing Aurelian awaken, devoted to the task as a form of penance, grateful to be given even the smallest chance to atone. Had Aurelian truly died that day, there would not have been even a flicker of hope left to hold onto.

 

"There was a letter as well. Let's read that first."

 

Bathed in the gentle light of afternoon, Fisé unfolded the Queen's letter.

 

There was only one opening in the thorned barrier he had created—just large enough for Launis to slip through. It was there that parcels from the Queen often arrived.

 

She had long since suspected Aurelian's feelings for Fisé and, despite the forbidden nature of their bond, seemed to wish dearly to believe the two had eloped and were now living out a secret, blissful life within the Sleeping Forest.

 

In the beginning, the Queen had sent many pleas for their return to the castle, accompanied by frequent deliveries of meat and other provisions. In response, Fisé had sent a letter back:

 

"His Highness Prince Aurelian was thrown toward the fireplace by His Majesty the King. Though he barely avoided the flames, he suffered grievous injuries. He is now in a healing sleep. Once he awakens, I will return him. Until then, I humbly ask you entrust him to me."

 

With that letter, Fisé had declined further food. But whether it was disbelief or maternal instinct, the Queen continued to send gifts from time to time—sweets, tea leaves, butter, preserved meats, bread. She also sent books detailing the current state of the continent, letters, new clothing, soaps—so many items that Launis often struggled under their weight.

 

Occasionally, her letters grew emotional: "If the prince is only sleeping, then please awaken him quickly. If you need physicians, I will send as many as you require."

 

And always, without fail, each letter ended with the same words: "Please forgive both my husband for imprisoning you, the Rose King, for so long… and me, for being unable to stop him."

 

"This letter seems gentler than the last," Fisé murmured, skimming it before reading aloud, his heart easing slightly.

 

He had never felt the Queen owed him any apology. In truth, the guilt he bore toward her weighed heavily.

 

Even if unknowingly, he had betrayed her. He had wounded her beloved only son. No amount of remorse could ever be enough.

 

To ensure that Aurelian would never be blamed for attempting to assassinate the King, Fisé had lied—casting the King as the one who had inflicted the wound, and blaming Aurelian's deep sleep on that harm. While the deception protected the prince, it only deepened Fisé's own guilt.

 

He would have had no trouble confessing the truth—"It was my rose that pierced his chest, it was my hand that nearly killed him." But honesty would bring nothing good.

 

What mother could trust the man who stabbed her child? If she knew, she would not remain calm. She would unleash the soldiers of the realm, burn down the thorned cage, and take Aurelian back by force.

 

And should that happen, the healing prince's fragile body would surely perish.

 

Fisé began to read the Queen's letter aloud:

 

"Dearest Rose King, beloved Aurelian— I hope you are both keeping well. Though spring has arrived, the chill lingers, and the snow shows no signs of melting. If there is anything you require, please don't hesitate to let me know. Nothing of great note has happened here, but thanks to the roses blooming in the Sleeping Forest, our shipments of perfume have continued uninterrupted these past six months. I cannot thank you enough. Twydal's finest perfumer has just released a new fragrance—please accept it as a gift. I have also prepared new clothes and shoes for Aurelian. Surely, he must have grown. If they do not fit, please let me know exactly what needs adjustment."

 

Having read that far, Fisé glanced toward the many gifts Launis had carried in after more than ten trips back and forth.

 

Inside a small wooden box lay an elegant glass bottle containing the perfumer's latest creation, along with a personal note of thanks.

 

White roses continued to bloom without end within Eleria Palace and the thorned forest, and their harvests were abundant, yielding exquisite rose oil of the highest quality.

 

There were also rose tea and confections, five new books, and the promised clothes and shoes for Aurelian.

 

The thorned barrier, layered thick with sharp brambles, often snagged and tore anything trying to pass through. In the past, clothes had arrived in tatters, much to Launis' regret. In response, Fisé had crafted a sled just the right size for a cat, allowing Launis to deliver the parcels without damage. He recalled how joyfully Launis had declared, "Thanks to Fisé's sled, I could carry everything so smoothly!" That memory alone urged him not to let the gifts go to waste.

 

More importantly, these were items prepared with a mother's love. Fisé had no right to neglect them.

 

Because Fisé could cleanse Aurelian's body and clothing with magic, he'd never needed to dress him before. But now, his current garments were visibly tight—he had indeed grown.

 

And now that the new, larger clothing had arrived safely, it was time to change him.

 

"Aurelian, once I finish reading this letter, let's change into your new clothes. There's a white silk shirt, soft to the touch, and a lovely pale-blue vest. You don't seem to be affected by the cold anymore, but since we have it, shall I add the coat as well? Or do you not need it?"

 

Fisé asked, though he knew no answer would come.

 

Every day, he read books and letters aloud to Aurelian. Still, he couldn't shake the quiet fear that none of it was reaching him at all.

 

He knew it was a selfish wish—but he longed for even the slightest sign that his voice was being heard: a twitch of the eyelid, a flutter of those long golden lashes. Any indication, however faint, that their hearts could still connect.

 

"I'll read the rest now," he whispered.

 

"Now that the Rose King is absent, the castle at Twydal has become a lonely place where not a single white rose blooms. Aurelian, please get well soon and return to us with the Rose King. As I mentioned before, the king's illness has worsened—he can barely speak now. I have taken on the affairs of state in his place. Even without that, your people trust you deeply. There is no one left who would harm either you or the Rose King."

 

The words conveyed a mother's aching desire to see her son again, but they still held the calm composure befitting a queen.

 

Even so, Fisé could not believe that such peace would last forever.

 

These six months had felt long—but it was still just a single season passed.

 

Perhaps that was acceptable as a period of convalescence. But what if this continued for a year… or two? What if the King passed away and Aurelian was called to ascend the throne? The tides in Twydal would shift swiftly, and the Queen—frustrated beyond patience—might very well change.

 

To the Queen, it must feel as though her only son is being held hostage. And the one holding him is me—someone who brings valuable rose oil to the kingdom. She cannot oppose me openly, and so she tries instead to remain gracious. But I can sense it… the undercurrents of frustration and doubt. Her unease at being cut off from Aurelian, her silent resentment toward me, her growing, smoldering anger—it's all accumulating little by little.

 

Even the most magnanimous heart can only carry so much before it breaks.

 

Fisé had read enough books to understand a mother's love. Were she stripped of her royal role, she would likely storm the forest herself, demanding, "Give me back my son!" And she would not be wrong to do so.

 

Fisé knew very well the weight of what he had done. He understood that Aurelian's recovery must come swiftly—he had to return before the balance tipped too far.

 

"This letter ends here. The rest is simply an inventory of the gifts… I'll set it aside," he murmured.

 

 

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