Elara pulled back at last, just enough to look at him properly.
"Elias," she said, her voice tight, measured in a way that frightened him more than shouting ever could.
"Are you really alright?"
He blinked, still hazy, still heavy with the echo of the frozen world and blinding light. He flexed his fingers. His chest no longer burned. He touched it and felt no pain ,no scar. His breath came easily.
"I'm fine," he said. "I can feel it. I'm healed."
For a heartbeat, she stared at him. Then she slapped him. The sound cracked through the room—sharp, sudden, final. Elias's head snapped to the side, more from shock than pain. His cheek stung, but it barely registered compared to the look on her face.
"How dare you," Elara said, her composure shattering all at once. "How dare you say that so calmly. Do you have any idea what you put us through? What you put me through?"
Her hands trembled as she clenched them at her sides. Her eyes were red—no, raw, as if she'd been crying far longer than he'd realized.
"For three days," she continued, her voice rising, "three days you lay there unmoving, barely breathing. Every healer said you might wake—or you might not. Do you know what it feels like to sit beside your child and not know if you're watching them sleep… or watching them die?"
Elias opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
"Aina blamed herself," Elara said, pacing now, each step sharp. "Jamie blamed herself. They nearly tore into each other over it—both convinced they were the reason you almost died. Do you think that's easy to watch? Two children ready to break themselves apart because of you?"
'They fought? Because of me?'
Guilt twisted in his chest, sharp and sudden.
"I didn't die," he said quietly. "And even if I did—"
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
"—you have another on the way."
Silence fell. Elara's hand moved to her belly.
"What... You think because I'm pregnant again you can just be reckless with your life? That You'll be forgotten once your replacement is born?"
Elara stopped moving. Slowly, she turned back to him, her expression unreadable. She raised her hand.
Elias flinched.
He braced himself for another slap, eyes squeezing shut on instinct, body curling inward—
—but it never came.
Instead, arms wrapped around him, pulling him in with crushing force. His face pressed against her shoulder as she held him, tighter than she ever had before.
"Don't," she said, her voice breaking. "Don't ever say something like that again."
Her grip trembled. He felt something warm soak into his hair.
"You are my first," Elara whispered. "My first child. Of course I would cry. Of course I would break down completely if you died."
He froze.
"I don't care how many children I have," she continued, her voice low and fierce, as if daring the world itself to argue.
"Even if I gave birth to a thousand, you would still be you. My Elias. As a mother, I am more than capable of loving all my children fully, completely, without taking anything away from any of them."
She pulled back just enough to cup his face, forcing him to look at her.
"For the past three days," she said, "the kingdom could have burned and I would not have noticed. Administration, petitions, councils—none of it mattered. I stayed here. Because this"—she pressed her forehead to his—"is where I was needed."
Something inside Elias cracked. His vision blurred, the room dissolving as memories surged forward unbidden.
A classroom, cold and quiet.
Raised voices behind thin walls.
A girl with tired eyes—Sera—turning away, unconcious as she was sent to the hospital.
Another—Liv—standing silent, wanting to speak, wanting to help, but shrinking back, afraid of becoming the next target.
Faces that cared, once. Faces that learned it hurt too much.
Then—
Lord Alaric's firm hand on his head with a smirk on his face.
Elara's warmth, her steady presence as she spoonfed him.
Aina's sharp tongue and unyielding vigilance.
Roric's laughter, loud and honest.
Jamie's loud laughter, her stubborn loyalty.
It all collided inside him at once.
Elias's breath hitched.
He tried to hold it in. He really did. But the sob tore free anyway—raw, ugly, unstoppable. His hands fisted into Elara's clothes as he broke, years of quiet resignation and unspoken loneliness spilling out all at once.
"I—" he choked. "I didn't—"
"I know," Elara murmured, rocking him gently. "I know."
For the first time in either of his lives, Elias cried without restraint—without shame, without fear that it made him weak or unworthy.
He cried because he was alive.
Because he was loved.
Because this time—this time—someone stayed.
And Elara held him, unwavering, as if she always would.