Epilogue
Time did not heal me.
It only taught me how to move while something inside me stayed broken.
The palace looks the same.
That's the cruelest part.
Ten years, and nothing here has the decency to change.
The halls still echo the same way. The marble still gleams like it hasn't witnessed anything worth remembering. The portraits still hang in perfect alignment, as if history can be controlled by how neatly it's displayed.
I walk through the main corridor slowly.
Not because I am tired.
Because I already know where I am going.
And part of me wants to delay it.
Even now.
Even after ten years.
My steps slow when I reach it.
His portrait.
Rowan.
It hangs among generals and advisors and figures who earned their place through politics or war.
He doesn't belong here.
And yet...
he is the only one I ever look at.
The artist captured him wrong.
Or maybe they captured him too accurately.
I haven't decided which hurts more.
He looks composed.
Still.
Controlled.
Like a royal guard.
Like the version of him the palace was allowed to acknowledge.
Not the one I knew.
Not the one who laughed in a way that didn't belong in marble halls.
Not the one who rode like the world couldn't hold him.
Not the one who kissed me like he had been holding back for too long.
I step closer.
Closer than I should.
Closer than protocol allows.
My fingers hover near the frame.
I don't touch it.
I've learned not to.
There's something about contact that makes the memories sharper.
Too sharp.
Ten years.
Ten years since the ball.
Since the moment he spilled wine on me and looked at me like I wasn't untouchable.
Like I wasn't a prince.
Like I was just... there.
That was the beginning.
I didn't know it then.
Of course I didn't.
I let out a slow breath.
My chest tightens the way it always does when I stay here too long.
We could have been something else.
That thought comes uninvited.
It always does.
Not king and guard.
Not secret and silence.
Not almost and unfinished.
Something real.
Something chosen.
But we weren't.
And that truth has outlived everything else.
I turn away before the memory sinks deeper than I can manage.
Because I know where it leads.
And I have somewhere else to go.
The garden hasn't changed either.
Of course it hasn't.
Why would it?
Time only moves for people.
Not for places that hold them.
The path is familiar.
Too familiar.
My feet remember it better than my mind wants to.
I stop at the exact spot.
I don't have to look around to confirm it.
My body knows.
This is where it happened.
The first kiss.
The rain.
The moment everything shifted from something unspoken into something undeniable.
I close my eyes briefly.
And it's there again.
Not perfectly.
Not whole.
But enough.
The weight of his hands.
The way he pulled me in like hesitation didn't exist anymore.
The way I responded without thinking about consequences for the first time in my life.
I open my eyes again.
And the garden is empty.
I reach into my coat slowly.
Carefully.
The device is old now.
Outdated.
Something the court would have replaced a hundred times over.
But I kept this one.
I never let them take it.
I activate it.
The video flickers to life.
Rain.
Movement.
Blurred light against water.
And then...
us.
Him.
His hands on me.
My hands on him.
The way we moved like nothing else existed.
Like the world hadn't already decided how we were supposed to end.
I watch it without breathing.
Like I always do.
Like if I inhale, it might disappear.
We kiss in the rain again.
Over and over.
Frozen in something that never had the chance to continue.
I stop the video before it ends.
I always do.
I can't watch the moment where it fades.
I refuse to let that be the final version I remember.
The silence returns immediately.
Louder than before.
I put the device away.
My hands feel heavier afterward.
They always do.
The city is different now.
More open.
More forgiving.
Laws rewritten.
Structures changed.
The things I couldn't give him...
I gave to everyone else.
It doesn't feel like enough.
It never has.
The fast-food place is still there.
Barely changed.
Which feels like a miracle in a world that replaced everything else so easily.
The owner doesn't recognize me.
Or pretends not to.
I'm not sure which I prefer.
"Two burgers," I say.
My voice sounds distant even to me.
He nods.
No questions.
No recognition.
Just simple transaction.
I take them both.
Warm in my hands.
Real.
Temporary.
I walk the rest of the way alone.
I always do.
The grave is quiet.
Isolated.
Exactly where it should be.
And exactly where I hate that it is.
I sit down beside it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like I might disturb something if I move too fast.
I unwrap one burger.
Eat it without tasting it.
Without really noticing the act at all.
The second one stays wrapped.
For him.
I place it gently on the grave.
Right where I always do.
"I brought you your favorite," I say quietly.
The words feel foolish.
But I say them anyway.
Every time.
The wind moves slightly.
Not enough to feel like a response.
Just enough to remind me I'm not completely alone in the space.
My wrist burns.
I look down.
Pink.
Faint.
But there.
The bond.
Ten years.
And it still hasn't disappeared.
It doesn't glow like it used to.
Not bright.
Not alive in the same way.
But it aches.
Constant.
Unfinished.
A reminder that I still remain...unclaimed
I press my fingers against it instinctively.
It doesn't help.
It never does.
"You never left completely," I whisper.
Not accusation.
Not comfort.
Just truth.
My throat tightens.
And I don't stop it this time.
"I wish I had more time," I say.
The same words.
Every year.
Every visit.
The silence answers the same way it always does.
Nothing.
I sit there longer than I should.
Longer than anyone would expect a king to sit beside a grave for someone the world barely acknowledges.
But I am not here as a king.
Not really.
I am just...
someone who loved too late.
The burger sits untouched beside his name.
Slowly cooling.
Like everything else that never had the chance to stay warm.
And my wrist...
still glowing faintly...
reminds me that some bonds don't break.
They just stay.
Even when everything else is gone.