Touch of Flame

Chapter 320 Letting Go

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Richard had been working tirelessly to reestablish his routine as a king while simultaneously trying to forge a bond with, Andrew and Meredith. It was a challenging task, especially with Andrew, who seemed determined to shut him out at every turn. Yet, Richard knew that beneath the defensive walls, there was a young boy yearning for connection and understanding. 

Occasionally, when Andrew let his guard down, Richard caught glimpses of that vulnerable side, but it was fleeting, quickly hidden away once again.

Patience was key, Richard reminded himself and building trust took time, especially after the tumultuous events they had all experienced. He couldn't expect instant rapport, but he was committed to breaking down those barriers. 

One day, as Richard was engrossed in his duties, a footman approached, holding out a letter. It was from Ares, detailing his plans to host a party aimed at uniting humans and dragons. Richard understood the importance of this event, not just for the sake of building bridges but also for demonstrating trust and a willingness to work together. However, he couldn't help but feel a sense of concern for the safety of his daughters and Andrew.

He sighed, folding the letter and rising from his throne. It was time to have a conversation with Meredith, to discuss the plan and gauge her thoughts and concerns. He knew it wouldn't be an easy discussion, but he had to try.

"What?" She almost snapped when he told her. "You want us to go somewhere where dragons are? Have you lost your mind?"

Richard took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Ravina is now with the dragons. If I didn't believe in this cause, I wouldn't have left her there," he replied, his voice firm but tinged with emotion.

Meredith shook her head, her frustration evident. "It's too much of a risk, Richard. You're putting your daughter's life in danger. Neither Andrew nor I will be there."

"I need you to be there with me," he implored, his voice softening.

Meredith looked at him incredulously. "Do you hear yourself, Richard? This is madness!"

He moved closer, gently grasping her arms, urging her to meet his gaze. "It's not just about you and me. It's about our children, our grandchildren, and the future we want for them. I want this war to end. I want a safer world when Andrew takes the throne. I want to show him and teach him the importance of working towards peace, of diplomacy. To do that, we need to be brave."

Meredith furrowed her brow, her initial resistance giving way to a deeper understanding of his intentions. "But what if something goes wrong?" she asked, her worry evident.

"Something will surely go wrong if we do nothing," he replied, conviction lacing his words. "There are risks, but at least it will be a choice we made for something better."

She took a deep breath, her apprehension slowly dissipating. "I'm scared," she admitted, her voice filled with vulnerability.

Richard nodded, his eyes filled with empathy. "I am too. But I'm here for you, and I hope we can be each other's strength."

She finally relented and nodded in agreement. "Alright," she whispered.

He smiled, grateful for her understanding. "Also, I was thinking of taking Andrew to Russell's grave," he added, seeking her approval.

Meredith nodded, her eyes softening. "Alright," she replied.

Richard prepared himself for the emotional journey ahead as he planned to visit his brother's grave with Andrew. Darcy joined them as well, as they would also pay a visit to her mother's grave.

For the past six years, he had avoided visiting his brother's or his wife's grave. How was he supposed to? His brother had not been dead in his mind. He had kept his brother alive by becoming him, and so his wife wasn't his either. Richard and Evanora died together that day, they died together and there was a peace he found in it. But now, he had to take back his life and give his brother the peace he deserved.

As the carriage arrived at the graveyard and Andrew glanced out the window, his anger blazed in his eyes. The realization of where they were struck him, and he questioned their purpose.

"Why are we here?" Andrew's voice held simmering anger, barely contained.

Richard nodded, understanding the resistance. Andrew wasn't ready to let go, and Richard knew firsthand how challenging it was to confront the pain of loss.

"Alright then," Richard replied calmly. "You can join me if you change your mind. I will go pay him a visit."

Stepping out of the carriage, Richard made his way through the graveyard, searching for his own supposed grave. The sight of his name etched onto the tombstone twisted his heart. 

At the time, it hadn't hurt to imagine his own demise, for in his mind, he had already died alongside his wife. He would have despised having his brother's name on the grave instead. He had truly caused irreparable damage.

Kneeling in front of the grave, he stared at his name for a long moment feeling the weight of his emotions intensify and tears welling in his eyes. "I am sorry, Russell," he whispered, his voice laden with regret.

Darcy's hand gently rested on his shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. Richard took a deep breath and continued.

"Your son has grown," Richard began, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and pride. "Andrew has become a fine young man. You would be proud to see him, and this...this is just the beginning. I know you will be even more proud of him in the future."

Andrew stood a few paces behind Richard, listening to his uncle's words. His chest tightened with conflicting emotions. Why had he left the comfort of the carriage? Why did his uncle insist on torturing him with these memories?

His gaze shifted to his father's grave, the name Richard displayed upon it. It only fueled his resentment. He despised everything about this situation, and he was ready to turn and leave. However, Richard's voice persisted.

"Corinna, you may not remember your uncle, but if your memories return, you will realize that he has been as much a father to you as I have been. Whenever I was occupied as a king, he would come to you and be there for you."

Andrew stiffened. Did Richard perhaps do the same for him? Was that how he was fooled all these years? It had to be. Somehow, he just knew it. He had called Rchard 'father' before his father's demise. 

His gaze turned back to Richard, who remained on his knees, and Corinna joine. "He sounds like a wonderful uncle," Corinna remarked, her voice filled with reverence.

"He was," Richard replied softly. "Let us pray that he finds the peace he deserves."

Andrew watched them, his emotions in turmoil. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the bittersweet realization of the love and care that had been bestowed upon him. Richard's presence in his life had been more than that of an uncle—it had been that of a father.

The weight of his grief pressed upon him, and he couldn't hold back any longer. His feet carried him towards the grave, his heartache overwhelming him. Falling to his knees, he unleashed his pent-up emotions in a torrent of tears. His cries echoed through the graveyard, filled with the longing for his father's presence.

Images of his father, the warmth of his embraces, the sound of his boisterous laughter, and the moments of bonding through combat training and horseback riding engulfed his thoughts. The memory of his father's proud smile and encouraging gestures brought an ache to his heart. He longed to experience that again. He missed it with every fiber of his being. The weight of his grief and anger poured out in torrents of tears.

"I...I miss you, father," Andrew cried, his voice choked with emotion.

His entire being trembled with the release of years' worth of pain and longing. Richard understood the depth of Andrew's anguish and gave him the space to mourn. 

Eventually, he wrapped his arms around Andrew, offering him solace and comfort. Andrew initially allowed himself to be held, but soon he reciprocated the embrace, his grip tightening around Richard.

Oh, how familiar the scent was. It reminded Andrew so vividly of his father. He buried his face in Richard's shoulder, inhaling deeply, as if seeking solace in the familiar aroma. The embrace felt so similar, as if he was holding his father again. Andrew whispered through his tears, his voice filled with both sadness and relief.

"I missed you, father." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I missed you too," Richard replied.