Extra Chapter 19 – A King's Legacy (POV Rhydian)
The night was still, the flickering torches casting golden light along the stone corridors as I walked with Luna by my side. She cradled our daughter in her arms, her steps light, her presence a constant anchor.
I led them toward a room I had not entered in years.
The Hall of Kings.
It was a place of remembrance, of legacy, of the weight of a thousand generations pressing down on my shoulders. It was where my ancestors' stories lived, where their victories and failures had been immortalized in steel and stone.
But tonight, it was not the weight of the past that brought me here. It was the uncertainty of the future.
Luna hesitated at the entrance, glancing at me with quiet curiosity. "Why here?"
I exhaled, running a hand over the heavy wooden doors before pushing them open. "Because I want her to know where she comes from."
The chamber was lined with towering statues and banners bearing the sigils of those who came before me. Weapons and armor were displayed along the walls—some pristine, others bearing the marks of battles long won.
Luna stepped inside slowly, adjusting Aurora in her arms. Our daughter stirred but did not wake, her small face peaceful, unaware of the weight of history surrounding her.
I walked to the center of the room, where the sigil of our family was carved into the stone floor—the crest of the Silver Moon.
"I have been thinking about what comes next," I admitted, my voice quiet in the vastness of the hall. "About what kind of life she will have. What kind of ruler—what kind of person—she will become."
Luna came to stand beside me, rocking Aurora gently. "She's barely opened her eyes to the world, and you're already worrying about her future?"
I let out a breath of wry amusement, shaking my head. "A king always worries about the future."
Luna turned to face me fully, her gaze steady. "Then speak your worries, my love."
I ran a hand through my hair, staring at the crest beneath our feet. "She was born into a legacy of warriors, rulers, protectors. But I do not know if she will follow that path." I looked at Luna then. "What if she does not want to be a queen? What if she chooses something else?"
Luna's expression softened. "Then we let her."
I clenched my jaw. "But what if—"
"Rhydian." She stepped closer, free hand reaching for mine. "You are thinking of your own father, aren't you?"
I stilled.
Because she knew me too well.
My father had been a king first, a ruler before anything else. His expectations had been ironclad, his belief in legacy absolute. I had been raised to carry the crown, to be the warrior he wanted, the leader he needed. There was never another choice.
But I had wanted one.
And now, I stood here, looking at my daughter, wondering if I had already failed her by even considering what she should become instead of what she could be.
Luna squeezed my hand. "You are not your father, Rhydian. And Aurora is not you."
I looked at her, at the unshakable certainty in her eyes.
"She does not need a king molding her destiny before she can even walk," Luna continued. "She does not need the weight of generations pressing down on her." She glanced down at our daughter. "She only needs a father who loves her."
The words struck something deep inside me.
I turned away, walking toward one of the statues—a towering figure of my great-grandfather, his sword raised in eternal vigilance. My voice was quieter when I spoke again.
"I just want to be better," I admitted.
Luna's footsteps were light as she followed, and then she was beside me, her warmth pressing against my side.
"You already are," she whispered.
I let out a slow breath, my gaze still on the past—on the men who had come before me. "Sometimes I wonder if I am doing enough. If I will ever be enough."
Luna reached up, her fingers tracing my jaw, guiding me to look at her. "You are."
She said it with such certainty, such unwavering faith, that I almost believed it.
I looked down at Aurora then, at the perfect, tiny being in her arms. She shifted in her sleep, her little fingers curling near her face, her breaths steady. So small. So fragile.
I had led men into battle. I had faced war and bloodshed, stood at the edge of death more times than I could count. And yet, this—this tiny child in my wife's arms—was the most terrifying thing I had ever faced.
Because she was mine.
Because I would break the world apart before I let it harm her.
But she was not born to be a warrior, not yet. She was just our daughter.
And maybe that was enough.
Luna must have seen something shift in my expression because she smiled, lifting Aurora slightly so I could hold her.
I hesitated for only a moment before carefully taking her into my arms.
She was so light. So impossibly small. And yet, in that moment, she felt like the weight of the world in my hands.
I pressed my lips to her forehead, closing my eyes as I whispered, "I will not let this world shape you before you are ready. You will be whoever you choose to be."
Luna exhaled softly beside me, resting her head against my shoulder.
"She doesn't need a legend," she murmured. "She just needs her father."
I looked down at my daughter, at the future she represented.
And for the first time, I was not afraid of it.