A Mother's Grief

Queen Morgana sat beside Queen Elena's bed, her figure hunched and weary, every movement slow, as though the weight of her sorrow held her down. Her face was etched with an unshakable sorrow.

For weeks, she had come to this quiet room, finding some odd comfort in the silence since her son, Eirik, had been taken.

It had been two agonizing weeks since Eirik's disappearance, and still, no word had reached the palace about his whereabouts.

Each day stretched longer than the last, and every moment brought fresh waves of grief. Here, in Queen's Elena healing chambers, she found a place where she could release her pain, away from prying eyes, away from her sons who tried, unsuccessfully, to console her.

Queen Elena lay there, looking almost as if she were merely sleeping, her cheeks no longer pale, her skin vibrant with a warmth and color that had long been absent. Her breathing was now steady.