Of Duty and Ties

Elma sat on the porch, the warm breeze rustling her skirts as she watched Roth work in the fields. He had been a stranger to their quaint, quiet village, stumbling in one cold winter's day in a tattered soldier's uniform long after the war had ended and tight-lipped about his past. The villagers had feared him, whispering behind their hands about possible desertion but the war was long won and over by the the time he first arrived at their village. He could read and write, a rare skill in their small community, and slowly he won them over. Elma's father had been one of the last holdouts, his gruff demeanor never quite thawing towards the mysterious man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, but even he had to admit, Roth was a hard worker, toiling in the fields and lending a hand in the barns. And now, he and Elma were expecting their first child.

As she watched him, her heart swelled with love and gratitude. She had never expected her life to turn out this way, with a loving husband and a life filled with purpose and joy. The villagers may have thought Roth was bad news, but Elma knew in her heart that he was nothing but good. And she could not wait to welcome their little one into the world and show them the same love and kindness that Roth had shown her.

But Elma's peaceful day on the porch was interrupted by a sudden commotion. Two knights, in shining armor and riding magnificent horses, had made their way into the village. It was a sight she had not seen in over a decade, and she could not help but feel a little excited by the rare spectacle. The knights scanned the village, their eyes scanning every house and person as if searching for something specific. Elma watched with interest as they approached the village square, their horses slowing to a stop, as a crowd of villagers, Elma and Roth included, gathered around them.

"We seek a man who has no family, who may have come here alone or with a few other men," one of the knights announced. "A soldier of sorts. A knight, perhaps. Do you know him?"

Roth's expression remained unchanged, but Elma could sense his tension and unease. She couldn't understand why he would not be more curious about the knights' search, but before she could ask any questions, one of the knights pointed directly at Roth and whispered something to his companion.

The two knights dismounted from their horses and approached Roth and Elma on foot. Before they could say anything else, they suddenly went down on one knee in front of them and bowed their heads.

"Your Royal Highness, Prince Rothragor," they said in unison.

Elma's mouth dropped open in shock as she stared at Roth, unable to comprehend what was happening. Prince Rothragor? Her husband was royalty? It was a revelation that sent shockwaves throughout the entire village. The villagers stood frozen in disbelief, their eyes wide with astonishment. Elma looked at him, her mind racing to process the newfound information. How could he have kept such a secret from her all these years? From everyone? His face showing his apprehension at the sight of the knights in this village that he has made his home.

The villagers slowly began to lower themselves to their knees, their faces a blend of awe and reverence. They had known Roth as a humble man, always ready to lend a hand and share his wisdom. Elma too was going to go down on one knee before Roth stopped her and affectionately held on to her hand. Elma's mind raced back to the countless nights she had spent with Roth, sharing their dreams and plans under the moonlit sky. Never once did he mention his true identity.

Roth stood tall and proud, with one arm around Elma and the other hand on her belly, protectively clasping their unborn child. He looked at the knights with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. "I am not the man you are looking for, knights of the capital," he said sternly.

The knights exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward and spoke up. "Prince Rothragor, your uncle, the king, wishes to make amends. He has sent us to bring you back to the capital."

Roth's expression hardened even more. "After all these years? He sent me and my legion to die."

The knights were visibly taken aback by Roth's response, their stoic expressions cracking with surprise before they quickly regained their composure.

"I cannot speak for the will of the king, Prince Rothragor," one of them spoke up, "but by all laws, you are now his heir. Both of your cousins are dead. Prince Roterric fell in the war while Reymont the Prince was able to survive - though not for long. He eventually succumbed to his wounds. A realm still fresh from war, needs stability, my prince."

"Roth...Prince Rothra-" Elma whispered in his ear before correcting herself. "Elma, this changes nothing. I am still Roth, your husband." She nodded. "Why did you never tell me?"

"Because Rothragar died with his men. That would have made for a finer story. I wanted to start anew. Away from court and the schemes that lie within."

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Roth and Elma were escorted to the capital by the knights, Sirs Tarron and Yilly. They were once the personal guards of his late cousin, Reymont the Prince. Tarron was haughty and serious. Yilly made light jokes on the road that made Elma laugh but that Roth did not react to.

Once they arrived at court, there on his throne, sat Roth's uncle, Reymont the King. Elma's eyes widened as she took in the grandeur of the court. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting epic battles and heroic deeds, while chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. The air was heavy with the scent of polished wood and fragrant incense.

Roth, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the opulence around him. His eyes were focused, his posture firm. Elma marveled at his composure, realizing that this world of power and politics was his birthright. These are the waters he swam in all his life.

Roth and Elma as well as the two knights all knelt before the aging man. "Your majesty," Roth spoke.

The king sat regally, his robes shimmering with gold and jewels. His face was weathered, bearing the marks of a life ruled by responsibility. He looked at Roth with a stern expression, assessing him as if he were a mere pawn in a game of chess.

"Rothragar." Reymont's gaze then flicked towards Elma, squinting with suspicion. "You could have done better for yourself in your self-exile than some peasant girl from a village no one has heard of."

"I go by Roth now, Majestic Uncle," Roth said firmly, holding Elma closer to him, making her flush. "And I disagree."

Elma's heart swelled with love for her husband in that moment. She had always known that he was a man of honor and integrity, but hearing him defend their marriage in front of his uncle, the King, made her heart flutter. King Reymont sighed heavily before nodding at them both. "Very well, then." He leaned back into his throne with a pained expression on his face.

Roth spoke up, "you sent me to die," his voice low but filled with anger. "My legion marched straight into a trap."

"Much good it did me," King Reymont responded with a bitter laugh. "My sons are dead and yet you live."

A heavy silence fell upon the throne room as the king and his nephew stared at each other, both holding onto their own pain and resentment. Elma shifted uneasily beside Roth, feeling the tension between the two men. She had heard stories of King Reymont, but seeing him in person made her realize just how intimidating he truly was. And here she was standing before him, as a mere peasant girl who had dared to marry his long-lost nephew and now heir.

"You thought that I would usurp your rule like you did my father's?"

King Reymont stared deeply into his nephew's eyes, a tinge of regret on his face before he nodded softly, his crown weighing heavy on his head.

"Yes. And like your grandfather did with his cousin. We have a rich history in such machinations, Rothragar, do we not?"

Elma could feel the weight of the king's words and the history of their family on Roth's shoulders. He had never wanted to be a part of the court anymore, but now he was thrown right back into the center of it all. He took a deep breath before responding.

"I have no desire for power, Uncle," he said firmly. "I only want to live in peace, away from all this chaos."

King Reymont looked at him with a mixture of sadness and regret in his eyes. "That is what your father wanted too once," he said softly. "But fate had other plans for him, as it did for my sons."

He coughed. "I will not live much longer, Rothragar. I need you to be ready to rule when the time comes, boy." Reymont looked at his nephew with desperation, with a desire to put their differences aside for the good of the realm and the good of their dynasty or what was left of it.

"Live your farmer fairytale a little while longer, but heed the call when it is made."

__________________________________________

Three years passed, Roth and Elma's son, Rothen had made his mother chase him around the village. "Rothen son of Roth! Come back here this instant!" The scene put a smile on Roth's face as he found himself sharpening his knife, but in the distance on snow covered fields, he saw knights approach, when they laid eyes on him, they rose a banner, glittering in green and gold, the king's banner. Yilly and Tarron at their head, their faces solemn on what must have been the coldest day of the year. Seeing them, Roth let out a heavy, icy breath. The king is dead. Long live the king.