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(KOTG) Ch 18: The Things Left To Say!
🕑 Added 2025-08-03 01:01:54 +0000 UTCKyvareth stood at the edge of the chamber, her arms folded gently as she watched Thron mingle with the priestesses. Her crimson robes caught the flickering light of the lanterns hanging along the tall stone columns, but she made no move to draw attention to herself. This was his moment. His introduction to the First Tower. And from the way he smiled—nervously, yet earnestly—as he responded to the priestesses' questions, she could tell he was trying.
It made her heart settle.
The women in white robes continued to orbit around him like curious stars around a newly found sun. They whispered, laughed softly, some giggled behind their sleeves, and one even offered him what looked like a polished fruit the size of his torso. Kyvareth couldn't hear what Thron said in return, but whatever it was, it earned a wave of amused chuckles.
Yes, she thought. It's all promising.
"You haven't told him yet, have you?" a soft voice murmured beside her.
Kyvareth turned to see Naeloria standing there, her hood now pushed back, silver hair spilling freely over her shoulders. Her expression was gentle, as it often was, but there was something in her eyes—something probing.
Kyvareth let out a slow breath. "Not yet. He's only just begun his reign. I want to give him time to breathe, to settle into the idea of all this."
Naeloria tilted her head, folding her hands before her. "Time is a kind gesture," she said. "But destiny doesn't wait for comfort."
Kyvareth didn't argue. She just nodded, watching her king across the room. "I know. And I will tell him. Just... not yet. Not today."
Naeloria gave a slight smile. "As long as you don't let the silence grow too long. He will need to know what is expected—what is required."
"I'll speak to him soon," Kyvareth promised.
The two of them stood there for another breath before Kyvareth finally stepped forward. The quiet whispers of the priestesses softened as she approached, their eyes turning up with a mix of reverence and calm respect.
"Forgive me for interrupting," she said, her voice low but commanding. "But I believe it's time for the king to rest. We've taken much of his energy today."
A few of the women offered bows. Others gave smiles. Naeloria offered a respectful parting gesture with both hands over her chest.
Kyvareth extended her hand down toward Thron, her palm flattening like a platform. He blinked up at her for a moment, as if forgetting how small he truly was compared to her towering form, then stepped carefully onto her hand.
As she raised him toward her chest, she gave a soft nod to the priestesses. "Thank you all. May your day be peaceful."
They responded with a synchronized bow, their movements practiced and quiet as breath.
Kyvareth turned and made her way down the long corridor, the light from the tower's braziers casting soft golden hues along her hair and armor. She held Thron close, secure in her grasp, saying nothing at first. Just the soft rhythm of her steps and the distant echoes of the temple filled the silence.
Eventually, she glanced down at him.
"They like you," she said quietly.
Thron shifted, still looking a little overwhelmed. "They definitely have a way of making someone feel... small."
Kyvareth smiled faintly. "You're not small. You're their king."
He let out a quiet huff. "Still getting used to that."
"I know," she said softly, fingers curling slightly around him. "But you're doing well."
And with that, she stepped beyond the final threshold of the First Tower, the door slowly closing behind them with a deep, echoing thrum that marked the end of their visit—for now.
The soft clack of Kyvareth's sandals echoed through the cavern corridors as she carried Thron cradled in her arms, the flickering torches along the stone walls painting shifting shadows across her pale features. The air was cool here, laced with the faint scent of moss and old stone, but beyond the last winding stair waited the surface — and the sprawling kingdom that now belonged to him.
She looked down at Thron, who rested against the curve of her palm, his legs stretched out slightly, one hand propping himself up as he watched the world pass by at her height.
"So," Kyvareth said, her voice softer than usual, touched with something personal, "how are you finding your stay with us, my king?"
Thron blinked, then gave a quiet chuckle. "It's... one hell of a time," he said with a tired smile. "I've never been this popular. Or this high off the ground."
Kyvareth smiled, but waited—she could tell he wasn't done.
His gaze drifted toward the ceiling of the tunnel, where thick roots dangled and soft stones pulsed faintly with natural light. "But I miss my world," he admitted after a moment. "Not that it was perfect or anything. Just... it was mine, you know? I knew the rules there. The sky looked right. I had places I could go and people who didn't look at me like I was some kind of—"
"Relic?" Kyvareth offered gently.
Thron gave a slow nod. "Yeah. That."
Kyvareth's steps didn't falter. She simply adjusted her grip slightly, as if offering him a bit more comfort, a bit more stability in the world of giants. "You don't need to apologize," she said after a long breath. "We did take you from your world. There's no hiding that. You had no choice."
Thron looked up at her, surprised by the blunt honesty in her voice.
"But," Kyvareth continued, her crimson hair catching the light as they turned a corner, "I hope you'll still try. Try to make something here. To live, not just survive."
He didn't answer at first, and for a while it was just the echoing of their steps through stone and silence.
But then he nodded slowly. "I'll try. I'll try my best."
A genuine smile touched Kyvareth's lips. "Thank you, my king."
They reached the final stretch of the winding tunnel, where golden light poured in through the towering stone entrance, spilling out into the green hills and silver towers of the kingdom beyond. The wind brushed against them like a greeting, carrying with it the scents of woodsmoke, wildflowers, and distant hearths.
Kyvareth stepped out into the daylight, her silhouette massive against the sun as she carried Thron back into his kingdom
