I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1296: A Wholesome Family

King Ruger was the first to move.

He stepped forward, his large frame filling the doorway as he pushed past Northern—not rudely, but with the desperation of a man who had spent years watching the love of his life wither away. His eyes found the Queen immediately, lying on the bed, and for a heartbeat he froze.

She was breathing.

Not the shallow, rattling gasps that had haunted their chambers for years. Not the fragile whispers of air that seemed to cost her everything. She was breathing—deep, full, her chest rising and falling with an ease that seemed almost impossible.

"Honey?" His voice cracked. The King of Ryugan, a man who had faced beasts and armies and would-be conquerors, sounded like a boy.

The Queen’s eyes fluttered open. And then she smiled—not the weak, diplomatic smile she had worn like armor for so long, but something real. Something alive.

"Ruger." Her voice came out clear. Still soft, still thin from years of illness, but clear. "I feel... strange."

"Strange?" He was at her bedside in two strides, dropping to his knees beside her, taking her hand in both of his. "Strange how? Is something wrong? Lord Northern—"

"No." The Queen laughed, the sound surprising even herself. "Strange because nothing hurts. For the first time in... I cannot remember how long. Nothing hurts."

Behind Northern, Roma made a sound. It was small, barely audible—something between a gasp and a sob that she immediately tried to swallow. Her hand had come up to cover her mouth, her amber eyes wide and glassy as she stared at her mother.

Prince Rieran stood rigid beside her, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped visibly beneath his skin. He was trying to maintain composure—the discipline of a Crown Prince, the control of a warrior—but his eyes were fixed on his mother’s face with an intensity that betrayed everything.

"Can you..." King Ruger’s voice was thick. He cleared his throat, tried again. "Can you sit up?"

The Queen considered this for a moment. Then, slowly, she pushed herself upward. Her arms trembled—not from the corruption that had ravaged her body, but from simple disuse, muscles that had been dormant for too long remembering how to work.

She sat up.

Roma’s hand pressed harder against her mouth. A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another.

"Honey—" King Ruger’s voice broke entirely this time. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her like something precious, something he had been afraid to hold too tightly for fear she would shatter. His massive shoulders shook.

Northern watched from the doorway, his mother standing quietly beside him. Eisha glanced at her son, then back at the family before them, and said nothing. Some moments did not require commentary.

"I need to..." The Queen’s voice was muffled against her husband’s chest. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wonder in her eyes. "I want to try standing."

"You shouldn’t push yourself." Rieran finally spoke, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "Mother, you’ve been bedridden for—"

"Rieran." The Queen’s eyes found her son, and her expression softened with a tenderness that made his jaw clench harder. "Help me up."

The Crown Prince moved without hesitation. He crossed to the bed and offered his arm—the same arm that wielded the spear with devastating precision, now trembling slightly as his mother gripped it for support.

She stood.

For a moment, she swayed. King Ruger lurched forward, ready to catch her, but she steadied herself. Her legs held. Her knees did not buckle. She stood in her chambers, her husband on one side and her son on the other, and she stood.

"Mother..." Roma’s voice finally broke free, cracked and wet with tears. She had not moved from the doorway, as if approaching might somehow undo this miracle. "Mother, you’re—"

"Come here, child."

Roma crossed the distance in three unsteady steps and threw her arms around her mother. The composure she had maintained for years—through her mother’s decline, through her desperate search for stimulants and cures, through the guilt that whispered that all of this was somehow her fault—shattered completely.

She sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. Raw, ugly sounds that she would normally never allow anyone to see, let alone hear. But she couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Her mother’s arms were around her, and her mother was standing, and nothing else mattered.

"My beautiful girl." The Queen stroked her daughter’s golden hair, her own eyes glistening. "My brave, beautiful girl. It’s alright now."

King Ruger wrapped his arms around both of them, and Rieran—after a moment’s hesitation—stepped closer and placed a hand on his mother’s back. His expression had cracked, finally. Not tears, not yet, but something raw and vulnerable that he normally kept buried beneath duty and discipline.

They stayed like that for a long moment. A family, whole for the first time in years.

Northern cleared his throat quietly.

The sound drew their attention—four faces turning toward him, wet with tears and bright with gratitude that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

"She’s not fully recovered," he said, because someone needed to say it. "The source of the illness is gone, but her body needs time to heal. Weeks, possibly months, before she’s back to full strength." He paused, considering how to phrase the rest. "She should avoid strenuous activity. Rest, proper nutrition, gradual exercise."

"But she’ll live." King Ruger’s voice was hoarse but steady now. It wasn’t a question.

"Yes. She’ll live."

The King released his wife and daughter and crossed to Northern. For a moment, he simply stood there staring at a young man not even half his age.

Then he bowed.

It was deep, formal, and completely sincere. The King of Ryugan lowered his head to Northern, and his voice came out rough with emotion.

"You have given me back my wife. You have given my children back their mother." He raised his head, and his eyes were wet. "I do not have words for what you have done. Ask anything of me. Anything at all. It is yours."

Northern was silent for a moment. He could see Roma watching him over her father’s shoulder, tears still streaming down her face but something complex moving behind her eyes. Gratitude, certainly.

But also something else—guilt, perhaps, for the lies she had told him. Relief that he had helped despite them.

"We can discuss that later," Northern said finally. "For now... be with your family."

The Queen had taken a few experimental steps—tentative, like a newborn deer finding its legs. Rieran hovered close, ready to catch her, while Roma wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, unable to look away from her mother’s movement.

"Young lord."

Northern turned. The Queen had approached him, moving slowly but steadily. Up close, he could see the changes already taking place—color returning to her cheeks, her eyes brighter than they had been, her posture straighter despite the weakness of her muscles.

She reached out and took his hands in hers. Her grip was fragile but warm.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft but clear, carrying weight that transcended the simple words. "Whatever your reasons, whatever you gained from this—thank you for choosing to help. You have given me back my life."

Northern looked at her—this shrewd, gracious woman who had spent years dying with dignity—and found he had nothing clever to say.

"You’re welcome," he said simply.

The Queen smiled, squeezed his hands once, and turned back to her family. King Ruger immediately moved to support her, one arm around her waist, and she leaned into him with a sigh of contentment that spoke of decades of partnership.

Roma was still crying silently, but she was smiling now too—a real smile, unguarded and bright in a way Northern had never seen from her. Her brother stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder, his own expression softer than Northern would have thought possible from the formal Crown Prince.

Eisha touched Northern’s arm gently.

"We should go," she murmured. "Let them have this moment."

Northern nodded. But as he turned to leave, Roma’s voice stopped him.

"Rian."

He looked back.

She stood there, tears still wet on her cheeks, her composure in ruins, looking nothing like the poised princess who had frustrated him with her evasions and secrets. She looked young, and grateful, and entirely human.

"Thank you." Her voice wavered. "For everything. I... I’m sorry I..."

She couldn’t finish. Fresh tears spilled over, and she pressed her hand to her mouth again.

Northern studied her for a moment—this girl who had lied to him about the stimulants, who had been desperately searching for any way to save her mother, who had carried guilt about her mother’s illness for years.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said. "Just... take care of her."

Roma nodded, unable to speak.

Northern turned and walked away, his mother beside him. Behind them, he could hear the Queen laugh again—that clear, surprised sound of someone remembering what joy felt like.

He didn’t look back.

Some moments belonged to other people.