Chapter 13 The Kings Truth
Father and Son
The palace had never felt so unfamiliar.
Rowan had walked its corridors since he was old enough to stand, yet every hallway seemed changed by absence rather than architecture.
Portraits of former monarchs still lined the walls, polished marble still reflected the glow of evening lanterns, and the banners of House Ashbourne still hung proudly from carved stone pillars.
Yet something essential had disappeared.
Hope.
The palace no longer felt like the heart of a kingdom.
It felt like a fortress holding its breath.
With Mira's help, Rowan entered through a forgotten servants' passage hidden behind the old botanical conservatory.
Few people still remembered it existed. The narrow corridor emerged behind a tapestry near the King's private library, a place where Rowan had spent countless evenings studying history beside his father.
He paused before stepping through.
"So much has changed," he whispered.
Mira rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Some things haven't."
She looked toward the carved oak doors ahead.
"He still waits here whenever the burden becomes too heavy."
Rowan managed a faint smile.
"I remember."
"As a child, I always knew where to find him."
She nodded.
"And tonight..."
Her voice softened.
"...he has no idea he'll find you."
She remained behind while Rowan quietly approached the library door.
His hand hovered above the polished wood for several long moments.
He had imagined this meeting countless times during the weeks spent in the sanctuary.
He had imagined anger.
Questions.
Relief.
He had imagined speeches worthy of history books.
Instead, his heart simply felt impossibly full.
He knocked gently.
"Come in."
His father's voice sounded older.
Wearier.
Rowan opened the door.
King Aldric stood beside the great window overlooking the palace gardens, a stack of official reports resting untouched on the desk behind him. The once-commanding ruler seemed diminished, not by age, but by grief.
Silver had spread farther through his dark hair.
Deep lines marked the corners of his eyes.
His shoulders carried a weight no crown alone could explain.
Without looking away from the window, the King spoke.
"I asked not to be disturbed."
"I know."
The familiar voice reached him like a memory carried on the wind.
King Aldric froze.
Slowly...
Almost fearfully...
He turned.
For a heartbeat, neither father nor son moved.
The King stared as though afraid the slightest movement would shatter an impossible dream.
"Rowan..."
His voice broke on the name.
"You..."
The report in his hand slipped unnoticed onto the floor.
The King crossed the room in three hurried steps before stopping abruptly, uncertainty replacing certainty.
"You are real?"
Rowan's own vision blurred.
"I'm real."
The distance vanished.
King Aldric pulled his son into a fierce embrace, holding him with both arms as though determined never to let him disappear again.
For several long moments neither spoke.
Words had become too small.
"I buried you," the King whispered.
"I know."
"I watched them lower your coffin."
"I know."
His father's shoulders trembled once.
"I failed you."
Rowan held him just as tightly.
"No."
"I did."
"I couldn't protect you."
"You survived despite me."
Rowan gently stepped back, meeting the eyes of the man who had always seemed larger than life throughout his childhood.
Now he simply looked like a father who had mourned his son.
"I'm here."
King Aldric reached up as though reassuring himself Rowan truly stood before him.
"I prayed every night."
"So did Mother."
A shadow crossed the King's face.
"She still does."
Silence settled gently between them.
Eventually the King gestured toward two chairs beside the fireplace.
"Sit with me."
Like we used to.
The unspoken invitation carried Rowan back years.
Winter evenings.
Lessons about history.
Long conversations that had little to do with politics.
For a little while, they simply spoke as father and son.
The sanctuary.
The mountains.
The kindness of ordinary villagers.
The peace Rowan had discovered beyond palace walls.
The King listened carefully, smiling whenever Rowan described repairing rooftops, baking bread, or learning to fish.
"You look happier."
The observation surprised Rowan.
"I am."
King Aldric nodded sadly.
"I should have given you that life more often."
The conversation gradually grew quieter.
Heavier.
Eventually Rowan looked directly at his father.
"I need to ask you something."
"I know."
The King sighed deeply.
"It's about your designation."
"Yes."
Silence returned.
King Aldric stared into the fire for several moments before finally speaking.
"When you were born..."
His voice carried memories Rowan had never heard before.
"The physicians discovered your designation almost immediately."
"They were frightened."
"Not because you were an Omega."
"Because the Council would be."
He folded his hands together.
"At first I refused."
"I told them my child would inherit regardless."
"What changed?"
The King's expression became painfully honest.
"Threats."
He looked up slowly.
"Not against me."
"Against you."
Rowan remained silent.
"They warned me that ambitious nobles would challenge your right to the throne."
"They said rival houses would see weakness."
"They predicted civil war."
His voice grew quieter.
"I believed them."
The admission hung heavily in the room.
"So you hid me."
"Yes."
"You let everyone believe I was a Beta."
"Yes."
"You gave me suppressants before I was old enough to understand why."
The King lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
Rowan looked away toward the fire.
"I spent years wondering what was wrong with me."
"I know."
"I watched other children grow naturally while I visited physicians every week."
"I know."
"I believed I was broken."
King Aldric closed his eyes.
"I know."
Those two words carried more pain than any defense could have.
Rowan's voice softened.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I wanted to."
"Every year."
"Every birthday."
"I told myself..."
He laughed bitterly.
"...next year would be safer."
"But next year never came."
"No."
"It never did."
The King stood and walked toward the great window overlooking the gardens.
"When your mother and I made that decision..."
He rested one hand against the stone frame.
"...we convinced ourselves we were protecting you."
He looked back.
"But protection built upon fear slowly becomes another kind of prison."
Rowan remembered the hidden archives.
The altered laws.
Queen Lyra.
Centuries of carefully preserved lies.
"Did you know?"
He asked quietly.
"About the original succession laws."
King Aldric nodded.
"I discovered them years after becoming king."
"And?"
"I wanted to restore them."
"What stopped you?"
The King's answer came without hesitation.
"Cowardice."
Rowan looked at him in surprise.
"I told myself the kingdom wasn't ready."
"I told myself waiting would protect the peace."
He smiled sadly.
"The truth was much simpler."
"I was afraid."
He walked back toward his son.
"Afraid history would repeat itself."
"Afraid ambitious men would turn the kingdom against my child."
His voice grew heavier.
"So instead..."
He looked Rowan directly in the eyes.
"...I allowed fear to make decisions that should have been guided by trust."
The room became completely still.
"I thought I was protecting you."
The King's voice cracked.
"I never realized I was teaching you to hide from yourself."
Tears blurred Rowan's vision.
Neither of them spoke for a long while.
Finally, King Aldric slowly knelt before his son.
Not as a king.
As a father.
"I cannot undo the years you lost."
"I cannot return the childhood burdened by secrets."
"I cannot erase the pain my choices caused."
He lowered his head.
"But I can tell you the truth."
"My greatest failure was never having an Omega heir."
His eyes met Rowan's once more.
"It was believing my son needed to become someone else before the kingdom would deserve him."
Silence filled the room.
Then the King whispered the words Rowan had never imagined hearing.
"Can you forgive me?"
Rowan looked at the man before him.
Not the ruler whose name appeared in history books.
Not the monarch carrying the weight of a fractured kingdom.
Simply his father.
A father who had loved deeply.
Chosen poorly.
And finally found the courage to admit it.
Rowan reached forward, taking both of his father's hands before gently helping him stand.
"You made mistakes."
"I did."
"You hurt me."
"I know."
"You let fear decide our lives."
Another quiet nod.
"But..."
Rowan smiled through tears.
"...I also know why you did it."
He embraced his father once more.
"I forgave you before you asked."
King Aldric held him tightly, relief and sorrow mingling in equal measure.
When they finally stepped apart, something had changed between them.
Not their love.
That had never disappeared.
Only the honesty that now stood between them.
The King drew a slow breath.
"No more secrets."
"No more fear."
He looked toward the royal crest carved above the fireplace.
"I should have stood beside my son from the beginning."
His gaze returned to Rowan with renewed determination.
"I won't fail you again."
Whatever awaited them in the Council chamber, whatever trials Lord Varric still prepared, Rowan would no longer face them alone.
This time, his father would stand beside him—not because duty demanded it, but because trust finally had.
Hearts Chosen
The palace looked different from the shadows.
Caelan had spent years guarding its halls, memorizing every corridor, staircase, and hidden passage until he could navigate them in complete darkness.
Once, those familiar walls had represented purpose.
Every patrol, every inspection, every sleepless night had been devoted to protecting the royal family.
Now he moved through those same passages as a condemned man.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
After Rowan disappeared into the King's private library, Caelan remained outside, keeping watch in the deserted gallery beyond the hidden entrance. His hand rested lightly against the hilt of his sword while his eyes never stopped moving.