Chapter Text
CHAPTER 3 I MISS YOU
The peace of the forest—with its elegant pines and squirrels playing among the trees—was broken by the loud galloping of horses, marking the urgency of the moment.
Inside the carriage, a melancholic mood could be seen in the eyes of all its occupants.
Noah couldn’t hold it in any longer; everything showed in his eyes, tears running down his cheeks.
Soon the moon caught up with them, and night fell.
Olivia, trained as a soldier, organized everything to set up camp along a path near the forest. Canvas tents were spread around, the sound of hammers driving stakes into the snow echoing as ropes were secured.
The mission required discretion, so Olivia had ordered that the royal crests not be used.
Queen Alexandra trusted her.
“Move! Light the fire! Now!”
The more experienced soldiers accompanying them obeyed without hesitation.
Behind Olivia, Noah walked with short steps. His black winter boots sank into the white snow, which seemed deep; his nose was red from the cold.
Olivia stopped near a tent, carefully watching a young soldier who was struggling, hammering and tying one end of the tent with visible reluctance.
“Soldier, that knot is wrong. You need to tighten it more,” Olivia said, her voice firm and confident.
The soldier snorted. “Yes, whatever you say.”
Olivia moved on, continuing her inspection.
“I hate that woman! Who does she think she is?”
“Come on, Williams, she doesn’t seem that bad. The royal family trusts her for a reason,” Joe Velasco said, trying to reassure his companion.
“She’s always giving orders,” he frowned. “Everything is easy for her, just because she’s friends with the queen.” His voice was full of anger as he struck harder.
“Ha!”
“She doesn’t look that bad. Maybe she’s just bossy,” Velasco said with a smile, fixing his gaze on the captain standing a few meters away.
“And that kid? Who is he?” Williams said with disdain.
“I think he’s her son, with Counselor Barba,” Velasco replied as he hammered the other end of the tent.
“Her son,” he smiled, bringing his hand to his chin.
Noah’s quick footsteps could be heard crunching through the snow as he tried to catch up with his mom.
“Mom!” the boy shouted.
Without hesitation, Williams stuck out his leg, causing the child to fall.
The boy didn’t see it coming—he was distracted.
He flailed his hands, looking for something to grab onto, but it was inevitable.
Soon his face was buried in the snow, and although the snow and his coat softened the impact, the boy felt pain surge through his body—a hot, burning stab.
Velasco ran straight to help the boy and shot Williams a sharp, disapproving look.
Not before kicking, with his foot, a wooden stake that hadn’t been secured properly, causing the tent to collapse.
Olivia heard the impact and turned around; she was only a few meters away from her son. She hurried toward him.
Noah made no effort to get up. His face remained pressed into the cold, white, almost ethereal snow.
He remembered how the previous winter he had played in the snow with his family, having a snowball fight with his father. His mother had scolded them, but later rewarded them with hot chocolate and marshmallows—white, soft, and fluffy.
His father, Rafael, knowing how much he loved them, had given him all of his marshmallows.
He missed him so much.
Velasco went straight to the boy and took him by both arms, brushing the snow away from his face and his curly hair.
For a moment, Noah thought he saw his father and clung to the young man’s neck, holding him tightly.
“You’re okay now, buddy. Easy,” Velasco said, closing his eyes as he gently rocked the child in his arms.
Noah closed his eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks, still streaked with snow; in a low voice, he only kept repeating, Dad…
____
Olivia’s footsteps could be heard crunching through the snow as she saw a young soldier holding Noah.
Olivia brought a hand to her mouth, watching closely as her son sought comfort from someone— even a stranger.
She held back her tears, took a deep breath, and ran toward the soldier.
“Thank you,” Liv said.
Velasco’s eyes flew open. Standing before him was the captain, wrapped in a black fur coat, wearing a purple dress, her hair pulled back into a bun.
A jolt of reality ran through his body, and he felt embarrassed.
“Captain, I’m sorry, I…” He felt intimidated by Captain Benson’s presence. She was imposing—but it wasn’t fear; it was respect, along with an aura of confidence.
“You helped my son,” she said, her kind brown eyes meeting his.
Velasco slowly straightened up, still holding the boy in his arms.
“Noah…” Liv spoke gently.
Olivia stretched out her arms to take the boy.
But Noah’s mind, drifting between reality and the past, wouldn’t let go. Memories were his refuge.
“No, Mommy, I want to be with Daddy.” Noah closed his eyes, clinging to Velasco.
Olivia froze, not knowing what to say.
There was silence.
“Where is your tent, Captain? I—I’ll follow you,” he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty.
Liv understood and studied him for a moment.
“Follow me…” she whispered.
The young soldier walked behind the captain, Noah in his arms, their footsteps echoing softly through the snow.
_______
At the palace, Rafael made his way to his chambers with measured, almost calculated steps, as if each stair demanded careful reflection.
The verbal battle with the high-ranking generals had been exhausting and biting, replaying in his mind with relentless precision: arguments dismissed, strategies reduced to mere words.
As an intellectual man, many doubted the value of his words and plans on the battlefield; nevertheless, he enjoyed the support of King Peter.
For now, Rafael would not go to battle. His ideas and plans remained in place, though that did not guarantee he wouldn’t be called to the field of arms in the future.
He climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
The palace felt devoid of life. There was no constant movement of servants, no laughter of his son running to greet him, no Olivia welcoming him with a tender smile and a shy kiss.
Now everything was draped in sheets, the light from the candelabras dim. The flickering flames seemed asleep.
Upon reaching his chambers, the first thing he noticed was the familiar scent of Olivia. It wasn’t strong or obvious, but it was there—persistent, intimate, impossible to ignore.
He lit the room with a candle and noticed everything remained just as it had been that morning, as if time itself had frozen.
He approached the bed, and on the bedside table lay a drawing from Noah and a note that read, “We love you.”
He lay down on the bed, tracing the words “We love you” with his fingers, then set the note beside him. Those two words carried more weight than any royal decree, more force than any military strategy.
He couldn’t close his eyes. He simply stared at the ceiling, remembering how such an ordinary day had turned into a nightmare. He thought of Olivia, alone in command, carrying not only a mission but also her son’s pain. Of Noah, too young to understand why his father wasn’t there to hold him.
For a moment, he stopped thinking about strategies or battles and allowed himself to feel the weight of distance, guilt, and a love that could not be put into words.
Logic was useless now.
He hoped they were safe.
“Liv, Noah…”
And as if the sky itself felt it, a light snowfall began to fall.