Chapter 459: A Mother’s Advice
Queen Seralyne did not speak at once. She let her daughter’s words hang in the quiet air of the garden, as she simply watched Serah with those dark silver eyes that always seemed to see more than anyone wanted to reveal, and then, with the gentlest of tones, she said:
"My sweet child, you carry yourself as though the whole world rests upon your shoulders, and yet, beneath that armor of calm, I see the truth. It is not duty alone that wears upon you. It is the uncertainty of your heart. Do you know why I asked you here, away from the castle’s walls, away from ears that always listen? It is because there are times when even a princess must set aside titles and speak as a daughter."
Serah shifted slightly, fingers tightening around the cup of tea she had hardly sipped. Her gaze dropped, not daring to meet her mother’s yet, but she nodded faintly.
Seralyne leaned forward, her hands folded neatly atop the table, her voice patient, carrying the weight of years of experience. "Love, Serah... love is not a battlefield one wins with sword and shield. Nor is it a court where we weigh every detail and demand perfection. Love is a risk. It is trust given without certainty, and yet... it is the very thing that breathes warmth into our lives. Tell me, child—what frightens you more? That this man may not feel the same? Or that you might feel so deeply and be left vulnerable?"
The words struck Serah’s heart. She breathed in sharply, holding her tongue as long as she could, but her silence was its own answer. Seralyne’s smile deepened, soft and knowing.
"I see. Vulnerability." Her mother’s hand reached across the table, brushing over her daughter’s fingers, easing the tension in her grasp. "You must understand, no woman, no matter her station, escapes the fears of her heart. I, too, once stood where you are. When your father courted me, I questioned every gesture, every word. Could I trust him? Could I allow myself to fall into something that might end in ruin? But do you know what I learned, Serah? That to love without daring is to live half a life."
Serah finally looked up, her lips parting as though to speak, but her mother continued, her voice flowing like calm waters.
"You say this man makes you feel right, though you know not why. That is no small thing, daughter. Many will flatter you, many will offer riches or power, but few... few will ever simply make you feel as though your very soul has found its place. That is worth more than crowns or castles. Do not dismiss it lightly. But neither should you leap blindly. The heart, yes, it must lead, but the mind must walk beside it. You are not only my daughter—you are a princess of this realm. Your choices echo beyond yourself. Yet I will tell you this—when it comes to love, do not measure him against your father, nor against your station, but against your heart. Does he honor your spirit? Does he keep his word? Do you feel peace in his presence? These are the things that endure."
Her words sank into Serah like sunlight through clouds. The frustration that had weighed on her chest seemed to shift, no longer a burden she bore alone, but something her mother had gently placed her hand upon to help carry.
Seralyne sat back, her eyes narrowing in a soft, thoughtful way. "Six months of silence... I can see why your spirit is restless. But ask yourself this, Serah—are you more wounded by his absence, or by your own fear of what it means if he returns? If he comes back, will you hide behind your pride and push him away? Or will you be brave enough to ask for truth, even if the answer is not what you desire?"
Serah’s throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to answer, but words stumbled before they reached her lips.
Her mother’s voice grew tender, carrying the weight of wisdom forged through both love and sorrow. "There is no shame in admitting the heart longs, child. No shame in being unsettled when another holds such power over your peace. But do not let fear decide for you. Do not let silence build walls where there might have been bridges. If you love him—even if you are not ready to call it that—then when the moment comes, you must not meet him with coldness. You must meet him with honesty. Only then will you truly know whether this path was meant to be yours."
Serah finally found her voice, quiet, almost trembling. "But what if I am wrong, Mother? What if... what if my heart deceives me?"
Seralyne rose then, graceful as ever, and stepped around the table. She bent and kissed her daughter’s forehead, her hands lingering at Serah’s shoulders. Her voice was warm, resolute. "Then you will learn, Serah. And in that lesson, you will grow. Do not fear being wrong. Fear only the life unlived because you were too afraid to try. Love, when true, is worth every bruise, every doubt, and every sleepless night. And if this man has already stirred your soul so deeply, then you owe it to yourself to see where it leads. Do not let the ghost of fear keep you from walking into the light."
Serah closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her mother’s love in those words, in her touch, in her unwavering gaze. For the first time in months, the frustration that had clawed at her heart loosened, if only slightly, replaced with something gentler. Hope.
Queen Seralyne gave a soft, knowing smile. "When the time comes, my child, speak not with the tongue of a princess, but with the heart of a woman. That is the only voice love will ever hear."
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Serah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her shoulders easing as though her mother’s words had untangled the knots inside her chest. For a moment, she simply stared at the tea cup in her hands, watching the steam curl and fade into the air. Then, with a small smile tugging at her lips, she whispered,
"Mother... I didn’t even know I needed this conversation. I came here thinking I could keep it all inside, like always, but... I am glad. Truly glad I was able to have it with you."
Seralyne’s expression softened into something radiant. She reached out and gently stroked Serah’s cheek with her fingertips. "My dear child, there will never be a time when I am unwilling to hear your heart. Whether your troubles be of duty, of love, or even of some silly quarrel with your brothers, you need only come to me. This garden will always be open to you, as will I."
Those words settled warmly in Serah’s chest, and for the first time in many weeks, she felt a glimmer of brightness pushing through the heavy veil of her frustrations. Her lips curved into a genuine smile—faint, but true. Her mother noticed, of course. Seralyne always noticed.
It was then that the queen’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly with mischief, a spark of amusement flickering within their silver depths. She tilted her head and asked, so casually it nearly made Serah choke on her tea,
"Tell me, Serah... does this man of yours, by chance, have long hair?"
The cup froze halfway to her lips. Serah’s cheeks bloomed crimson, her composure cracking as she stammered, "M-Mother!" She set the cup down quickly before she spilled it, glaring at her mother though her blush betrayed her. "Were my... physical tastes that obvious?"
Seralyne’s laugh rang through the summer hut, light and melodic, the kind of laugh that carried years of knowing and wisdom but also a touch of playfulness. "Oh, my dear child," she said between chuckles, "they are. Do not think for a second that your subtle glances or faint blushes go unnoticed. Why, I would wager even your father, as consumed as he is with duties and councils, has long since noticed where your eyes wander first when a young man enters the room."
"Mother!" Serah groaned, covering her face with both hands, her ears burning hot. "Please, do not drag Father into this."
But Seralyne only laughed more, patting her daughter’s hand with sly amusement. "I shall say nothing more of it... though I must confess, I am not surprised. After all, your father himself once wore his hair long in his youth, and you would cling to it as a baby, always tugging until he groaned."
Serah peeked at her mother through her fingers, utterly mortified yet unable to stop the small laugh that escaped her lips. "That is entirely different," she muttered, though her smile betrayed her attempt at indignation.
"Is it?" Seralyne asked, her silver eyes gleaming with mischief. "For now you sit here, flushed like a summer rose, all because I spoke of long hair. And if I am not mistaken..." she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "...this man you like does indeed have such hair, does he not?"
Serah’s blush deepened as she finally lowered her hands, giving her mother a withering look that was utterly ineffective against the queen’s playful smile. "Yes, he does," she admitted, her voice small but sincere. "It falls past his shoulders, and... well..." She hesitated, as though confessing a great crime, "...he keeps it tied back most of the time, yet when it’s loose, it suits him in a way I can’t explain. It makes him seem both untamed and... gentle. It’s ridiculous, I know."
"Not ridiculous," Seralyne corrected softly, her teasing tone fading into warmth once more. "Merely human. A woman may admire bravery, strength, or wit, but never forget—she is also allowed to admire beauty. And if his hair is what first caught your eyes, then so be it. Your heart has taken care of the rest."
Serah exhaled a laugh, shaking her head, still embarrassed but lighter than before. "You make it sound so simple, Mother."
"It is simple, my dear," Seralyne said with a knowing smile, resting her hand once more atop her daughter’s. "Love is never without its trials, but the reasons we fall for someone can be as small as a smile, as fleeting as the brush of hair in the wind. What matters is not where it begins... but where it leads."
Serah met her mother’s eyes, her own shining with a mixture of embarrassment, gratitude, and quiet hope. For once, she let herself relax completely, leaning back in her chair with a smile that—while shy—was no longer weighed down by frustration.
Seralyne chuckled again, unable to resist one last prod. "Though I must say, I shall be most amused to see how your father reacts if you ever bring home a long-haired suitor. Perhaps I ought to warn him now?"
"Mother!" Serah groaned again, though this time her laughter joined her protest, filling the garden with a sound her mother treasured more than any crown or jewel.