The redemption

Chapter 18 Awakening

Selene stretched, the ease in her movements so natural it felt almost foreign in his presence. “Let us have breakfast in here, Draco,” she said, her voice still soft with sleep. “Let us talk… not as King and Queen.”

She looked at him then—directly, gently.

“Just… as us.”

Draco studied her.

There was no fear in her.

No calculation.

No attempt to control him.

Only… invitation.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted quietly.

The words seemed to surprise even him.

Selene didn’t rush to answer.

She shifted slightly, pulling the covers around her shoulders as she leaned back against the headboard.

“Then we start with something simple,” she said.

A small pause.

“Tell me about the dream.”

Draco’s jaw tightened.

His first instinct was to shut it down. To bury it. To turn away.

But—

He didn’t.

“There was a boy,” he said slowly. “Running.”

His eyes unfocused slightly, as if seeing it again.

“He was laughing… calling for his father.”

A flicker crossed his expression.

Confusion.

Something softer.

“I think… it was me.”

Selene didn’t interrupt.

“My mother…” he continued, quieter now. “She was singing.”

The words almost caught in his throat.

“I remember the sound. Not the song… just the feeling.”

His hand clenched slightly in the sheets.

“Then it changed.”

Of course it did.

“It always does,” he added, almost bitterly.

Selene’s voice was gentle, steady.

“But this time… you saw more, didn’t you?”

Draco looked at her sharply.

“…yes.”

“The army,” he said. “The blood. My father telling me to run.”

His breathing slowed—but not from control this time.

From… grounding.

“They died.”

Not said as a King.

Not said as a weapon.

Just… truth.

Silence filled the space between them.

But it wasn’t heavy.

It held something else.

Selene shifted closer—not touching him yet, just near enough.

“That boy didn’t die, Draco.”

He exhaled sharply, shaKing his head. “He did. He had to.”

“No,” she said softly. “He was buried.”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“There’s a difference.”

Draco looked away.

But he didn’t argue.

A knock came softly at the door. Servants bringing breakfast.

Selene called them in, and soon a tray was placed nearby—fresh bread, fruit, warm drink. Simple.

Normal.

She handed him a cup.

“For one moment,” she said again, a small smile returning, “we pretend the world is not waiting outside that door.”

Draco took it.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As if unsure whether he was allowed to.

“And then?” he asked.

Selene met his gaze.

“Then,” she said, “we decide what kind of world we want when we open it again.”

Draco looked down at the cup in his hand.

Then back at her.

And for once—

he didn’t feel like a King.

He didn’t feel like a weapon.

He didn’t feel like something broken.

He just felt… uncertain.

And strangely—

at peace.

Selene stood quietly by the window after Draco left, the morning light spilling across the floor in pale gold.

Her eyes softened as she reached inward.

“Storm… are you there?”

Always, came the calm, steady voice within her. I do not leave you.

Selene exhaled slowly. “What do we do about him?”

There was a pause—not empty, but thoughtful.

You continue, Storm said. You speak to him. You remind him.

Selene frowned slightly. “Remind him of what?”

Another pause.

Then—

Of who he was meant to be.

Selene’s brow furrowed. “Storm… there’s something you’re not saying.”

A shift.

Subtle.

But there.

He is not alone within himself, Storm replied at last.

Selene stilled. “What do you mean?”

Draco has a wolf, Storm said. As you do.

Her breath caught slightly.

“A wolf…?”

Yes, Storm continued. But his… has been bound. Locked away. Silenced.

Selene turned from the window, her expression sharpening. “By the Mystics.”

It wasn’t a question.

Yes.

“Why?” she asked, quieter now.

Storm’s presence deepened, ancient and knowing.

Because his wolf is not like the others.

A pause.

It is light.

Selene’s heart tightened.

Light.

Not darkness. Not rage. Not destruction.

Light.

“They couldn’t control that,” she whispered.

No, Storm agreed. So they buried it.

Selene began pacing slowly.

“Does Draco know?”

No.

That word landed heavily.

But he feels it, Storm added. A presence. A pressure. Something just beyond reach.

Selene stopped.

“That’s why he feels… fractured.”

Yes.

Selene closed her eyes briefly, thinKing.

“Can you reach it?” she asked. “His wolf?”

A softer answer this time.

I am trying.

A pause.

He is… small. Frightened. But he is there.

Selene’s chest ached at that.

Not the King.

Not the warrior.

Not the feared ruler of a dark Kingdom.

But something hidden deep inside him—

small.

Alone.

Waiting.

“Then I’ll help you,” Selene said firmly.

She lifted her chin slightly, resolve settling into her.

“I’ll remind Draco. Not the King. Not the weapon.”

A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.

“But the boy.”

Storm’s presence warmed in approval.

That is how you free them both.

Selene looked toward the door Draco had walked through earlier.

“He thinks that child is dead,” she murmured.

Then show him he is not, Storm replied.

Selene nodded once.

Slowly.

Surely.

“He won’t break easily,” she said.

He is not meant to, Storm answered.

A quiet determination settled over her.

“Good,” Selene said softly.

“Because neither will I.”

Draco stilled the moment his eyes opened.

Gold.