146. The weight is mine
146. The weight is mine
ALAESTER
Damn, I never thought my heart could be torn apart like this, like a claw dug into my chest and ripped out everything I am. We’re standing in the judgment hall, people staring at me with curiosity, but all I feel is the void where my mother, or who I thought was my mother, used to be.
The hall is packed, Lycans growling low with curious, hungry eyes for justice, Aladians in the shadows with their stony faces, but all I see is her. Elora. Even in chains, even broken, she looks like she’s defying the whole damn world, and it screws me up inside because I want to hate that strength, but part of me still admires it.
Alice squeezes my hand, her warm fingers against mine, and our bond pulses, giving me strength, a thread of light keeping me from collapsing. Aemon’s on the other side, his jaw so tight it looks like it might snap any second.
He’s hurting as much as I am, maybe more, because, hell, she’s not even his real mother. But she raised us. Taught us to hold a sword, to lead a Pack, to be kings. Hugged me when I was a kid with scraped knees, crying from trying to mimic the warriors. And now, she’s standing there as a traitor, and I’m the one who has to point the blade at her heart.
The hall goes so quiet you can hear the surrounding breaths. I step onto the central platform, Alice and Aemon flanking me, and face the crowd.
“People of Pamyel,” I begin, feeling the weight of the king’s title like never before. “Today, we judge Elora Redwood, former queen, for treason against the kingdom, manipulating the war with Aladia, and the unjust exile of the Witch Myrwen.” My voice comes out hoarse at first but gains strength, even though every word feels like swallowing ground glass. “She confessed. But today, we decide her fate.”
My mother lifts her chin, her eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world vanishes around me. It’s just us. “Do what you must, Alaester,” she says, her voice cold as ice, but I catch a faint tremor deep down that cuts my soul. “I don’t deny anything I did, and everything I did was for Pamyel. I love you and your brother. I love our people and would do it all again.” Her eyes glisten with tears that seem real.
Aemon lets out a low growl, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest, and Alice squeezes my hand so hard I can feel my bones protest. Their anger pulses through the bond, but I also feel their pain, an echo of my own. Because, damn it, she’s still trying to manipulate me, playing with memories that still haunt me. And the worst part is, it works. A small, weak part of me wants to believe her. Wants to remember the mother who sang me to sleep, who wiped my tears, who told me I’d be a great king. But that part is dying, choked by the raw, brutal truth.
“You lied,” I say, my voice sharp but trembling at the end, like I’m a kid again. “You hid the truth about Aemon’s mother. You fueled a war for power. And you exiled Myrwen because she knew too much. You didn’t do it for Pamyel. You did it for yourself.”
The crowd murmurs, voices blending into a chorus of “traitor” and shocked whispers. Elora stares at me, and for the first time, I see something break in her eyes. It’s not regret, not guilt, but a kind of… surrender. A weariness that carries years of secrets. “I loved you, Alaester,” she murmurs, so softly I almost don’t hear, but each word is a knife. “And you, Aemon. Even if you weren’t mine by blood, I raised you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
Aemon steps forward, his body shaking with rage, his eyes glistening with tears he refuses to let fall. “You stole my mother from me! You stole the truth of who she was,” he roars, his voice echoing like thunder through the hall. “You made me believe I was yours. How dare you speak of love? How dare you?”
Alice placed a hand on his arm, a gentle touch that seems to pull him back from the abyss of hatred he’s thrown himself into, but her eyes are full of tears. She’s feeling everything through the bond; my pain, Aemon’s pain, the weight of what we have to do. And that cuts me even deeper, because she doesn’t deserve to carry this burden. I wish there was a better way to resolve things.
I want to hold them both, throw all this away, run from this damn fate, but I can’t. I’m the king. The weight is mine.