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Chapter 109: Old Wounds, Unhealed
The marble steps of the palace echoed with the sound of heels.
Queen Bianca, surrounded by her handmaidens, descended the stairs in grace and silence—until her eyes landed on the figure standing just beyond the gates.
She stopped.
Her breath caught for a moment.
Daemon.
He stood tall, cloaked in worn clothes, white-haired, flanked by unfamiliar faces. He had returned—and not alone.
Bianca’s expression remained unreadable for a heartbeat.
Then she smiled.
A soft, warm smile—queenly and gentle—and walked forward.
Daemon approached, calm and composed.
They embraced before the gates.
"I’m glad you’re fine," she said, placing her hands against his cheeks.
"Me too, Mother. It’s been two years."
She examined him, her fingers brushing along his jaw. "You haven’t eaten well. You’re so thin... What happened to you?"
Daemon smiled faintly. "Nothing, Mother. I’ve just been training."
She frowned, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "And these filthy commoner clothes? My son—walking around like a street orphan? Come. Let me feed you. Bathe you. Take care of you."
For a moment, it almost sounded genuine.
Almost.
But Daemon saw it.
He glanced to the side—at the guards watching, the citizens nearby, their eyes wide with admiration.
Ah, he thought. She’s playing to the crowd.
She wanted a show. And he was part of it.
He smiled.
"Thank you, Mother. You’re the best."
Bianca beamed.
Then her eyes shifted to the group behind him—Nyxtriel, standing still and unreadable; Varian, visibly uncomfortable; and William, fidgeting nervously under her gaze.
She approached them like one would inspect a display.
Her smile never faded, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
"Oh my... I’m so glad my Daemon wasn’t alone." She clasped her hands dramatically. "You’re such... lovely people."
Then her voice dropped a note, still sweet—but colder.
"But... you understand, don’t you? The king... dislikes visitors. Especially unannounced ones."
Daemon’s smile sharpened.
He saw through it all.
You don’t want them here.
But he stepped in, his voice smooth and laced with edge.
"Mother," he said, loud enough for the nearby guards and servants to hear, "these three are my companions. They’ve stayed by my side when no one else did."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough.
"Is it really so difficult to grant one simple wish from the son you haven’t seen in two years?"
Bianca opened her mouth to respond—
But then she heard it.
The crowd murmuring nearby. Guards whispering.
Watching.
Waiting.
Judging.
She hesitated, the calculation behind her eyes turning.
"Oh, of course," Queen Bianca said sweetly, though her jaw was tight. "I can grant you any wish, my dear son... but you must understand this was your father’s decision."
Daemon didn’t flinch. "Mother, these people... they saved my life when I was on the brink of death. If not for them, I wouldn’t be standing here now."
The crowd stirred at that, murmuring in surprise and sympathy.
Bianca’s eye twitched. She hadn’t expected him to say that aloud. Not in front of everyone.
She forced her smile to stay in place. "Very well. I’ll allow it," she said through her teeth. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Daemon smiled. "Thank you, Mother."
She inhaled. Her gaze traveled up, lingering on his hair.
"What happened to your hair?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. "It used to be black. Now it’s... white."
Daemon raised a hand and brushed a strand from his face.
"Oh, this?" he said casually. "It’s the result of my training. One day it just... changed on its own."
"I see," she said softly, nodding. "How strange."
Then, louder and warmer, she added, "Come now. Let’s go inside. I’ll have rooms prepared for your... friends."
As they walked, Gabriel moved in beside Daemon, his steps light, his smile unshakable.
"I’m really happy you’re back," he said, almost breathlessly. "It’s been too long. I missed this."
Daemon gave him a sidelong glance and nodded.
Gabriel grinned. "And you came back just in time. The coronation is in a few days. Don’t tell me... did you show up because you wanted to see me crowned?"
Daemon smiled.
"Of course I did."
Gabriel laughed, clearly touched. "Now that’s a surprise. You were always cold to everyone. Even me. But now you’re talking about loyalty, gratitude... love?"
He threw a quick glance behind them.
"By the way who’s the beautiful woman walking behind you?"
Daemon didn’t look back.
"She’s someone important," he said smoothly.
Gabriel blinked. "Wow. You actually said that? You? I’m jealous now."
Daemon grinned, amused.
But Gabriel leaned in and whispered nervously, "Okay but... why is she glaring at me like she wants to stab me? Did I say something wrong?"
Daemon didn’t answer right away. His smile didn’t fade.
Of course you did, he thought. You did everything wrong. You just don’t remember yet.
Out loud, he simply said, "She’s shy. That’s all."
Gabriel laughed. "If that’s ’shy,’ remind me never to get on her bad side."
Daemon kept walking, the palace looming ahead.
The palace doors opened as a procession of maids stepped forward, led by Lady Vexen, the Queen’s personal attendant and head of the royal domestic staff.
She was poised and elegant, her hands folded neatly before her as she approached the group.
Her expression softened immediately when she saw Gabriel.
"Prince Gabriel," she said with a warm bow, "I’m so glad you’re back home. We’ve all missed your presence."
But then—she looked past him.
Her eyes landed on Daemon.
She staggered.
Just slightly.
As if a ghost had walked up the palace steps.
She recovered quickly, stiffening her back and raising her chin.
"...Prince Daemon," she said slowly. "I’m... glad you’re back, too."
Varian, watching from behind, grinned. He leaned in toward Nyxtriel. "Oh yeah... he’s definitely done something to her. She looks like she just saw a demon crawl out of her closet."
Daemon’s expression remained calm, polite even.
"Thank you," he said smoothly. "I just decided it was time to come home. It’s been a while."
His gaze dropped subtly.
"You’re looking well. Especially your fingers."
Lady Vexen’s lips twitched.
Her hand, gloved in lace, trembled almost imperceptibly.
She remembered.
She remembered the five-year-old Daemon, standing calmly in the palace, cutting off four of her fingers.
She remembered the blood.
And the silence.
And how he had made her clean up after herself—with one hand.
Now here he was again.
Taller. Stronger. And smiling.
She wanted to run. Scream. But the Queen was watching.
Daemon smiled wider, satisfied with the fear she tried to hide. A quiet reminder:
You still serve me.
"Ahem," Vexen said, clearing her throat. "Thank you for the compliment, Prince Daemon. I must say, you’ve grown quite tall. More... mature."
Bianca, smiling, nodded to her. "Vexen, take these three to the guest wing. They are my son’s companions. Make sure they’re comfortable."
Vexen bowed. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
She turned stiffly, gesturing for the guests to follow.
"Come with me."
Nyxtriel, Varian, and William followed her silently, but Varian leaned close to William and whispered, "I have got to hear the story behind this one..."
Daemon turned to follow Nyxtriel and the others, but Gabriel caught his wrist.
"You can’t go yet," he said with a grin. "We need to spend some time together."
Daemon sighed sharply under his breath.
"Shit."
Gabriel gasped dramatically. "Did you just curse?" He laughed. "That’s... weirdly cute, Daemon."
Daemon visibly cringed. "Tsk. Don’t say stuff like that. It’s disgusting."
Behind them, Queen Bianca chuckled politely, her smile carefully composed.
"Well then, boys—I’ll leave you to your reunion." She turned, her silk gown flowing behind her as she walked off with her maids in tow.
Daemon watched her disappear into the corridor, his face unreadable.
Then he turned to Gabriel. "Did you hear about Father?"
Gabriel’s face grew more serious. "Yeah... I did. That’s why Mother’s been so strict about guests. He’s... not doing well."
Daemon nodded. He already knew.
Of course he’s ill. It was happening just like before.
In his past life, the king’s illness had thrown the realm into uncertainty. That’s why the coronation was being rushed—to present strength, stability. So that nearby kingdoms wouldn’t dare strike during the vulnerable moment of a king’s death.
And crowning Gabriel early... was the perfect shield.
Daemon looked at his brother, pretending to think it over.
"So that’s why they’re doing the coronation now?"
"Correct," Gabriel said, sighing. "It’s political more than ceremonial. A way to assure our allies—and intimidate our enemies."
He folded his hands behind his back and looked out the palace window, toward the horizon.
"But... I’m still unsure what to feel, Daemon. Sadness? Guilt? Emptiness?"
He looked down.
"I never really knew Father. He was always distant. Cold. But... he still gave us life. I suppose... the least I can do is lead this kingdom with strength. For him."
Daemon said nothing.
He studied Gabriel.
For all your flaws... you’ll make a better king than most. You’re smart. Principled. Brave, even. Too bad... you’re standing in my way.
Daemon smiled faintly.
"You’ll be a good king," he said.
Gabriel smiled back, truly touched. "Thanks. That means a lot coming from you."
It shouldn’t, Daemon thought.
But he didn’t say it.
