Chapter 4: Echoes of Regret

Madlene studied Roman intently, her gaze piercing through the dimly lit chamber as though she could strip away his defenses with just a glance. Her mask—a delicate piece of crafted gold and silver, etched with intricate, swirling patterns—hid any flicker of emotion that might betray her thoughts. Composed, regal, she appeared as if sculpted from the same cold, unyielding stone that adorned the grand halls she ruled. She had encountered countless souls before him: kings burdened by crowns too heavy, peasants hardened by brutal lives, knights cloaked in valor, and courtiers dripping with flattery. Yet, none had managed to ignite a spark of intrigue within her as this man did.

He stood before her, not with the polished poise of a knight, but with a rawness that was somehow captivating. His clothes, though practical, were rough, and his stance was far from refined. Roman’s voice, steady and unassuming, carried a weight of sincerity that was both disarming and curious. He did not wear the armor of a warrior, nor did he carry the charm of a courtier. Unpolished and unlikely in such a grand setting, he spoke with a quiet conviction, a confidence that seemed almost out of place given his unremarkable appearance. His straightforwardness, untouched by the world’s deceptions yet tempered by a quiet pain, lingered beneath his words. Her fingers twitched slightly as she listened—a small, almost imperceptible movement betraying the faintest crack in her stoic façade. She felt something stir within her, something foreign, nearly forgotten. For a brief moment, the cold, unfeeling mask she wore each day felt heavier, as though it was not just a barrier to the world but to her own heart.

She spoke, her voice low and steady, each word deliberate. “You have seen death… the death of those you love…” The words escaped her, resonating in the stillness of the chamber, a somber echo that pulsed with unspoken memories. Usually composed and detached, her voice now carried a subtle tremor, as though even she was surprised by the weight of what she had said.

The silence that followed pressed down on them, thick as a shroud. She saw the truth reflected in his eyes—a deep, haunting sorrow etched into the lines of his face, veiled beneath his calm demeanor. It was a look she recognized, a mirror of her own grief buried beneath layers of duty. For a fleeting moment, her heart ached in unison with his, as if the fragile thread of their shared pain could bridge the chasm of distance and formality that separated them.

She held his gaze, the icy mask concealing the cascade of emotions that threatened to spill forth. Yet, her eyes betrayed a flicker of understanding, a glimmer of empathy cutting through the coldness like a spark in the dark. She searched his face as if she could see beyond the rugged exterior into the soul beneath, grasping for some unspoken truth that connected them both in that quiet, haunting moment. Despite his armor, the queen knew. Roman, on the other hand, was certain that she’d never so much as heard his name, let alone know his crime and story. Yet, with a mere glance, she had discerned it all—the pain, the suffering, the throbbing ache he’d grown accustomed to, that felt so much a part of him it was as if smiling would feel like stepping into another’s skin.

Oddly, the suffocating atmosphere of the queen’s chambers felt somehow more comforting than genuine happiness. The slightly alcohol-imbued, fruity aroma that lingered in the air, the way that each breath felt almost toxic, the heavy sorrow that pressed upon his shoulders harder with every shared glance… all of it felt eerily familiar. And that terrified him.

She stared at him from behind the phantom-esque mask that disguised her every expression, and somehow, he knew it was the same for her. The darkness of the mind had become a familiar sensation, despised yet the only solace either of them could find.

“Yes…” Roman whispered, his raspy voice filtering through the steel mask. “Yes, I… I have.” Memories resurfaced, ripping into his chest and carving out his heart. Screams, wails, and sobs echoed in his ears, filling the silent room with a cacophony of suffering.

“So have you, I wager.” He spoke low, every word a reminder of the yoke connecting his heart to the past. “I’ve made mistakes. I have regrets. If I could turn back time and be anywhere but here, I would—not to offend Your Majesty, just… The deaths of those I loved could have been prevented, had I acted differently.” For the first time, he said these words aloud. The regret, the guilt, the anguish—all slightly alleviated as he cast his silent thoughts into the wind.

“My matters were not as complex as a curse, but…” Roman examined his hands, wondering what it must be like to be unable to touch anyone. The last time he’d made any sort of contact was to kill—of his own volition. There was no one to blame but himself. “I’m sorry. That this was your fate.”

The queen remained silent, feeling an unexpected connection to the man before her. In the barrage of voices that filled her life, she had forgotten what real human contact felt like. Yet, despite her initial reservations, she couldn’t dismiss this newfound connection, this fragile understanding.

Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet and thoughtful. “You’ve shown me more kindness in these few moments than anyone has in the past decade of my isolation. It’s… been a long time since someone has looked at me like that.”

A strange tenderness welled up within her heart, a feeling she had known only a handful of times. The man before her, who had known such tragedy yet expressed such compassion, seemed almost like an angel in such a hellish place as this. She found herself wanting to say more, to reach out and touch him, to feel a connection again, despite knowing the consequences. Dangerous thoughts lingered.

“If I could go back…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t regret loving Dairius… but I dishonored a goddess, broke a vow… I caused the attacks of demons upon my kingdom…”

Her mind drifted back to the day she had broken her vow to the goddess of nature. She had stood in a garden, filled with flowers, trees, and creatures. The goddess appeared before her, a being of pure light and nature’s beauty, so breathtaking it seemed to erase all sadness, replacing it with pure love and joy.

“You have broken a vow,” the goddess had said, her tone fierce as a winter blizzard. “A vow you made willingly.”

“I couldn’t help it,” the queen had pleaded, voice trembling. “Love is powerful. I couldn’t deny my feelings for Dairius. I was weak and foolish.”

The goddess’s expression remained unyielding, her eyes as cold as winter’s frost. “You knew the consequences when you made your vow.”

Madlene had hung her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, feeling insignificant in the presence of divinity.

“I did know,” she whispered, “but I didn’t think they’d be so severe.”

“You didn’t think?” the goddess replied, her voice laced with resentment. “You believed your desires outweighed the wellbeing of the kingdom?”

“I did,” Madlene replied meekly, her heart sinking. The goddess sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “For your selfishness, you must pay the price.”

Back in the dim chamber, Madlene’s gaze grew distant, lost in her memories. The weight of her past pressed down on her like an unforgiving hand, reminding her of the fragile line she walked between penance and duty.

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Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far! I will soon share how her mask and her face looks! Same with roman!!