It was a sunset, but it might as well have been the dead of night, given the sheer number of gray clouds covering the sky like a blanket of dirty wool, hiding the sun's last rays. The rain, fine but persistent, fell upon the royal caravan, and the sound of the carriages and horses' hooves splashing through the mud of the road created a hypnotic melody, a constant rhythm that, far from being annoying, was strangely beautiful and serene.
—My lord, we are almost there — exclaimed a knight, bringing his mount close to the window of the royal carriage.
Inside the elegant carriage, a warm and serene voice tried to calm the unease of the night.
—Listen to me, children, don't be afraid.
—Of course not, Father. Because you are with us, we are not afraid — replied two childish voices in unison, one of a boy and one of a girl, filled with absolute trust.
—Oh, God, please, you flatter me too much — replied the man, the children's father, with a tender smile that lit up his face in the dimness of the carriage.
—What are you saying, my husband? —intervened a woman of elegant bearing and melodious voice—. You are the King. It's more than understandable that the children trust you. Your wife and the entire kingdom trust you. You are our rock.
—By your leave, Your Majesty — the knight interrupted from outside—, but we have arrived at the castle.
—Oh, well done, Sir Vance — the King told him, leaning slightly out the window.
—No, sire, it's nothing. It is, and always will be, my job and my honor.
—Children, let's go down now — exclaimed the Queen sweetly, as the carriage came to a halt with a gentle sway.
Once inside the great hall of the Palace, the Queen, with a graceful movement, made a deep curtsy to the King. Then, she took Prince Eliel and Princess Calithia by the hand to lead them to the maids, who would see to drying them off and preparing them for rest.
The King was left alone for a few moments. He sighed deeply, letting the weight of the day fall from his shoulders. Before the servants closed the enormous oak doors, he looked one last time at the overcast sky. A distant lightning bolt illuminated the clouds for a second.
—Ah… —he murmured to himself, with a strange feeling nestling in his chest—. I have a premonition that something is going to happen.
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Come morning, the sun burst forth with strength, a true contrast to the previous night. Its first rays, scorching and golden, swept away the shadows, making the raindrops still hanging from the leaves of the royal gardens sparkle like tiny jewels. A fresh, pure breeze, typical of dawn, swayed the kingdom's banners.
From the training yards came the rhythmic, metallic sound of clashing swords. Knights and apprentices practiced fencing, and that music of steel was, for those fond of the art of war, a sound as refreshing as the song of birds.
The King was seated on his throne, lost in thought, when the great doors of the hall opened. A knight of great presence, tall and with the bearing of a seasoned warrior, advanced down the red carpet. As he passed, courtiers and guards bowed to him. Upon reaching near the steps leading to the throne, he knelt with martial elegance.
—Long live the King! —he exclaimed, in a deep, firm voice.
The King sketched a wide smile, the first of the day.
—Rise, old friend. Tell me, Zekin Marville, how was your journey?
Zekin stood up and returned his sovereign's smile.
—It went well, my King. The subjugation on the northern border was a complete success.
—Well, that was to be expected from you, my best commander. I expected no less — said the King, but his eyes, sharp and experienced, scrutinized his friend's face—. But that's not all, is it? I can see it in your expression. Something else is troubling you.
Zekin blinked, surprised.
—You read me like a book, Your Majesty.
—So it's about that feeling I had last night — thought the King.
—In the middle of the operation, my lord… we found a child — Zekin confessed, lowering his voice.
—A child? —the King raised an eyebrow, his face reflecting sincere surprise.
—Yes, my lord. A baby. I don't know if my granddaughter, who was born a few weeks ago, arrived first or he did, but he can't be more than a few days old. He was alone.
—Alone? I mean, did you find him inside a dwelling? With his parents? —asked the King, leaning forward.
—No, my lord. He was in a basket, hidden among some bushes, near a burned cabin. But we found a trail of blood. I think… I think it was from his parents. They died protecting him, leading the attackers away from his hiding place. Surprisingly, in the end, they succeeded. The child survived.
The King nodded, his expression grave.
—It's true. That child is very lucky. And at the same time, very unlucky to have lost his parents.
—That is so, Your Majesty.
—Then we will go to see the child. But let's wait for the queen. This is a decision that the whole family must make.
—As Your Majesty says.
Shortly after, the Queen entered the throne room accompanied by Prince Eliel and Princess Calithia, who, upon seeing Zekin, greeted him enthusiastically. Without wasting time, the King explained the situation and together they went to the rooms where the royal physicians were attending to the little one.
The child was in an improvised cradle, wrapped in soft linen cloths. He had hair as black as the night of his arrival, and his eyes, wide and curious, were the color of pure gold. He was a beautiful baby, with delicate features that made him look like a little prince from an ancient tale.
The Queen approached slowly, hypnotized by that golden gaze. She gently extended her hand and, to everyone's amazement, the little one grasped it with his two tiny hands, squeezing with unexpected strength while a huge, toothless smile lit up his face. The smile was not that of a stranger, but that of a son recognizing his mother.
At that instant, the Queen's heart, which still remembered the sweetness of motherhood with her own children, was moved to its very core. A wave of love, pure and unconditional, washed over her.
—Zekin —she asked without taking her eyes off the baby—, what will be done with him?
—That's why I went to speak with His Majesty, my queen. To decide his future.
The Queen turned to the King, with a special light in her eyes that he knew well. Then she looked at Zekin.
—Zekin Marville, would you allow me to keep him? I promise to raise him, love him, and protect him as if he were my own flesh and blood son.
Zekin smiled tenderly and bowed.
—Of course, my queen. There is no problem with that. It is an honor for him.
Then, the Queen cradled him in her arms. The child, feeling himself held and sheltered by her warmth, smiled again, staring into her eyes. The Queen, with tears of happiness glistening on her lashes, also smiled.
—Then… I will call you Aito — she whispered, rocking him—. Aito Greymont. Welcome to the family.
—Oh, how great! I have another brother! —exclaimed Calithia, jumping for joy.
—You must take very good care of your little brother, Calithia — the Queen told the princess.
—I am the big brother! —said Eliel, puffing out his chest with pride—. So now I'm going to take care of my sister and my new little brother.
—That's right, Eliel. You must take good care of them.
The King, watching the scene from a few steps back, felt how the strange sensation from the previous night completely dissipated, replaced by a deep calm and joy.
—So that's what it was about… — he murmured to himself, with a smile—. It's much better than I imagined.
He walked towards them and placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, looking at little Aito.
—Well, then I was the only one missing. Welcome, Aito Greymont. From now on, we will be your new family. I hope you adapt to us — exclaimed the King with a warm and firm voice.
At that moment, a ray of sunlight came through the great window of the Royal Palace, bathing the new family in a warm, golden light, as if the sky itself wanted to welcome little Aito.