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Chapter 310 - 310 Chapter 310 : All grieve differently



The grief and sadness he had been holding in from the moment he realized his daughter was gone, finally bubbled up to the surface, and the elven king cried bitterly.

He had failed, not only as a king, but as a husband and a father. He had failed to see that an enemy had infiltrated his palace, he had failed to protect his only child, and he had failed his wife by allowing soneone to take away the child she suffered so much to give life to.

Gareth slammed his fist on the edge of the water basin, almost cracking it in the process. What kind of pathetic man was he? He didn’t deserve to be called a king, later on a husband or father. If he couldn’t protect his own family, how in the world was he going to protect an entire kingdom?

“Father,” Gareth mumbled painfully as tears flowed down his handsome face. “I need your counsel now more than ever, why did you have to leave this earth so soon?”

After king James Burchard passed at the ripe old age of a hundred and twenty, queen Margret decided to leave the kingdom and settle out in the countryside on her own. Being that Gareth and his mother were not in the best of terms, ever since the incident with the dwarve princess all those years ago, he couldn’t stop her, but like a good son, he did offer her to live at the palace.

Queen Margret was a proud woman, and because of that, she still insisted on living on her own and sending the occasional letters to her son. She had visted a few times to see her granddaughter, but that was it, she never overstayed her welcome even when she clearly wanted to.

Gareth made a mental note to inform her of Eira’s demise, it would break the poor woman’s heart. Even if she saw very little of Eira, queen Margret loved her granddaughter dearly.

Gareth finally ran out of tears and washed his face. Regardless of how defeated and downcast he was feeling, he had to put on a brave face, even though a failure, he was still king and needed to act as such.

.....

He walked out of the bathroom towards the bed where his wife was still out cold, and leaned over her.

“I’m sorry my love, I have failed you,” he whispered to her and pushed strands of red hair from her face. He then leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, before heading for the exit.

Out in the hallway, Zander, Ozias, Odran, Beric, Roland and Finwe all stood waiting for him. They were later joined by Renly, who was worried about the well-being of the queen after being dosed with so much anesthesic drugs.

When the door opened, all the men stepped back and bowed when Gareth walked out.

“Your majesty,” they uttered in unison, more out of pity than respect.

“Thank you all for being here,” Gareth mumbled. He tried to wear a fake smile, but even that proved impossible to do.

“How is her highness doing?” Renly asked in concern.

“She’s resting,” Gareth responded, “do not worry Renly, her breathing and pulse is normal, she will be fine.”

Renly nodded in relief, “that’s good, I will leave her be for now, but will later have to tend to her self inflicted wounds and give her another dose in case she’s still hysterical.”

“That is not a problem,” Gareth responded, “you have my permission.”

“So what happens now?” Zander asked the elven king, “the kingdom is in chaos to say the least, and we have two potential murderers on our hands, one of whom is the son of a dear friend.”

“Let us convene in the meeting hall,” Gareth responded and began to walk down the hallway, “this is not the place to discuss such a sensitive matter.”

*

The former elven queen Tauriel paced her chambers angrily as she tried hard to stop the tears from flowing out her eyes.

‘Everywhere you go turmoil follows! This is as much your fault as it is hers! You wanted my baby dead!’

Melissa’s harsh words were practically etched into Tauriel’s mind. The nosferatu queen was right, this was all her fault. She had lived with Ronda all this time and had not noticed that she was planning such a despicable scheme right under her nose.

Because she had raised the little elven woman like her own, her fondness for her had blinded Tauriel from seeing the kind of monster Ronda really was.

And now her grand baby was gone, all because she made a bad call and kept a venomous snake by her side.

The elven woman dropped to her knees and wept grievously. “Oh Eira, my sweet beautiful Eira, can you ever forgive me?”

A knock at the door made Tauriel wipe her eyes and mumble a shaky ‘come in’.

The first person to enter was her daughter Estel, followed by Aiden and then Damien. Estel ran to her mother and hugged her, she too had puffy eyes, indicating that she had been crying as well.

“It is all my fault,” Tauriel sobbed as she embraced her daughter. “If only I had-”

“No mother, do not blame yourself,” Estel hushed the woman. “What happened is terrible, but it’s all Ronda’s doing and not yours.” She pulled away and wiped her mother’s face. “I promise she shall be dealt with accordingly for her treacherous sins.”

“But how? If word of my granddaughter’s demise reaches her, she will flee.”

“That’s a chance she will not get,” Aiden responded coldly.

His eyes were not puffy, but one could see from the angered and confused look on his face that he too was feeling broken.

“My royal guard has already received instructions to capture Ronda and hold her in the dungeon until Damien can ride for Ervelon,” Aiden explained.

Tauriel turned to look at her grandson whose expression sent chills down her spine. Rather than hurt or broken, Damien seemed darker, looking at him was like looking into a pitch black bottomless pit. What had consumed him between anger, guilt or grief, Tauriel could not tell.

“I should have trusted my gut instinct about Maxim,” Damien mumbled, his eyes glued to the floor and his fists balled up. “If I had done so and reacted in time, Eira would have still been alive. Now it’s my duty to nip this right at the source...”

When Damien looked up at his grandmother, Tauriel almost shuddered. His eyes were completely black, and his fangs were bared like never before.

“I,” Damien declared in an icy tone, “will be that wicked woman Ronda’s executioner.”


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