The Path

King Edward pulled a gleaming sword from his sheath and held it up to the rope that bound the King of Alana. The rope was tightly cinched around his wrists and already had left angry, red welts on his skin. The sword sliced through the ragged, twisted stands of the rope, and the King of Alana gasped in relief as he rubbed his wrists. The man glanced over his shoulder at the young boy whose hands were similarly bound, then returned his gaze to Edward, “The boy too,” he said. Edward paused in contemplation before finally giving a slight nod of approval to one of his men, who stepped forward and cut through the boy’s rope as well.

The man stepped closer to Emelia, and Leon swiftly stood beside her, his chest puffed out and his arms tense. He glared at the man, daring him to take another step. The King raised his hands in surrender and said gently, “Easy. I mean no harm.”

Leon’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the hilt of his sword, and a determined glint lit his eyes. “I’ll make sure it stays that way.”

The man stepped forward and raised his chin, his royal cape swishing as he moved. “I’m King Charles of Alana, and this is my son, Prince Oliver.” He turned towards Emelia with a furrowed brow. “How could you forget who you are, Sarah?”

Emelia squinted and tilted her head; her brow furrowed in a hint of confusion. “What makes you think I’m your daughter, this Sarah?” she asked softly, her brown eyes studying his face.

“You have a tattoo on your wrist, don’t you?” He rolled up his sleeve, and the resemblance of the two tattoos struck her. His was bold and black, detailed with a royal crest she’d had since she was a girl. She held her arm next to his and marveled at how the markings lined up perfectly. Charles slowly ran his rough and callused fingers across her arm, trailing along the intricate lines. “Only Alana Royalty is branded with this crest,” he whispered. As tears welled in her eyes, Charles threw his arms around her in a tight embrace. Leon gripped the handle of his sword. He was just about to draw his blade when Edward stepped forward and put a calming hand on his tense shoulder, easing his fear and preventing him from interrupting the moment.

Charles held his daughter close and buried his face in her hair, “That’s how I knew you were still alive,” Charles breathed, giving his newfound daughter an appreciative squeeze. “All of the bodies we found had never possessed the family crest. But it was enough for me to hope you somehow managed to live through everything.” Charles was overwhelmed with emotion, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe I found you.” As Charles pulled away from her, his expression changed from one of joy to one of anger. Focusing on Edward, he seethed, “Which means I was right. You’ve been keeping her from me all these years.”

Emelia stepped forward and squared her shoulders, her eyes blazing with conviction. She raised her voice, speaking with confidence, “You’re wrong. Edward saved me, and he has treated me like his own daughter. He raised me and gave me an education, a home, and a chance at life when I had nothing. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for him.” She glanced back at Edward, whose eyes were full of love and pride. His face was alight with joy.

Charles clenched his fists and glowered. “Well, they’ve done something to you because you don’t remember who you are,” he growled through gritted teeth.

She slowly pivoted around and met his gaze, “It wasn’t Edward who did this. The barbarians did,” she said in a trembling voice. “I don’t remember anything before I was taken other than a fierce blow to the head. Queen Lily was the one who protected me, and she took the brunt of a sword meant for me.”

Edward’s voice cracked as he spoke, “She was my wife.” Edward said as his eyes welled up with tears. He took a deep breath before continuing, “She made me promise to always look after Emelia with her dying breath, and that’s what I did.”

The soldier strolled swiftly towards King Charles and kneeled before him, his face hidden beneath a steel helmet. He raised on his feet and spoke in a low voice into the King’s ear, his words only audible to Charles. The King’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes locked on the enemy’s troops in the distance. The King nodded, and the soldier quickly ran into the nearby forest, his feet crushing leaves and twigs underfoot. The whole battlefield was silent as if waiting for something to happen.

Leon turned to watch the soldier leave; his brow furrowed in distrust. He then shifted his gaze to King Charles and asked in a low, suspicious voice, “Where is he going?”

King Charles stood with a gleam in his eye and announced, “To tell the Queen that her daughter has returned!” He extended his arm to Edward in a sign of peace, and Edward hesitated before taking it, wariness in his eyes. “I am truly sorry about your wife,” Charles said. His voice was sincere, and he gave a slight bow of his head. “Let’s call a truce... for now.”

Edward’s grip around Charles’ hand was firm, and his reply was resolute. “For now,” he raised his voice to be heard above the chaos, barking an order to retreat. “FALL BACK!” he roared. The troops complied, marching forward in unison and preparing for a strategic withdrawal.

Charles did the same as Alana’s soldiers began retreating into the woods. Emelia stood alone in the center of the chaos, her eyes darting between both sides. Emelia didn’t know what to do; rather, she didn’t know who to retreat with. Charles approached her and asked, “Would you mind coming with me?” his voice was gentle, and his eyes were pleading. “You were taken from your grandmother’s manor not too far from here,” he said, “Maybe you will remember if I take you there.”

Leon clasped Emelia’s hand, his grip firm and reassuring. His gaze met hers, and he said, “I’m going with you.”

Emelia nervously shifted her weight and stared at the ground, the knot in her stomach tightening. Edward took a step closer, lightly wrapping his arm around her shoulder and saying, “I’ll see you soon,” with a gentle smile that seemed to calm her nerves.

Emelia bowed her head in agreement, and she, King Charles, and Leon readied themselves for the journey on horseback. As they trotted through the dense foliage, the sun was low in the sky. None of them spoke a word; the air was heavy with silence. Charles fidgeted with his grip on the reins, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of what-ifs and what-then. She could have died during the siege on their kingdom, but she hadn’t. He wasn’t sure what to expect when they arrived. Would she remember? If she did, would she stay? Too many questions swirled through his mind to bear the silence any longer.

“Do you remember anything at all?” he asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Emelia shook her head no. He spoke slowly, his voice heavy with the weight of the memory. He looked away, his gaze lingering on the horizon with a sadness Emelia recognized despite her lack of memories. He cleared his throat, and his fingers clenched around the leather reins. “There was a coordinated attack on all five kingdoms years ago. You and your mother were visiting your grandmother at her manor because she had fallen ill.” He paused, swallowing hard, “That’s when they took you. I never saw you again…until now.”