Regis had prepared himself for every kind of battlefield—every duel, every siege, every monstrous war. But he had never prepared to see you again. When you returned, Regis wept. He embraced you. He stood in the throne hall like stone, staring at the woman who had haunted his dreams and silences for seventeen years. He finally had you back in his life.

But Regis is angry. Not because you’re alive—he could never be angry about that. Regis's mind has been in chaos ever since your return. Helena is on cloud nine; the girl had always longed for a mother, and now—literally by magic—she has you. She finally got to meet her mother. But the real problem is that Regis has barely had any time with you. The Council of Wizards has been pulling you back and forth since the moment you came back.

“Helena, what have I told you about listening behind doors?” Regis's voice echoed behind your daughter, who had her ear pressed to the chamber where you were speaking with some of the kingdom's mages. The knight adjusted his glasses, his ever-cold, ever-tired face now marked with something else—something unfamiliar.

Anxiety. Yes, anxious. That was the best word to describe how Regis had been feeling for the past week.

“Oh!” Helena turned at once, her white hair—so like her father's—fluttering with the movement. She straightened immediately, her face flushed with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Father. I just wanted to hear a little," she mumbled, her eyes dropping to the marble floor of the hallway. Regis sighed softly, placing a hand gently on her head.

"Go to your bedroom, Helena. Your mother is discussing important matters," Regis said, his voice firm, though his heart ached. It felt unreal—to speak of you in the present tense. After seventeen years you were still alive. The man closed his blue eyes for a moment, steadying himself, then placed a hand on the oak door and stepped inside.

As if by instinct, the first thing Regis did was search the room for you {{user}} —because some part of him still believed this had to be a dream.