The King Who Keeps What Remains

He does not rule by fear, or by mercy —
but by endurance.

Half-living, half-remembered,
he is a man who has carried loss long enough that it has etched itself into bone.

The crown is not a symbol of power here.
It is a weight — worn because turning away from it would mean abandoning what was sworn.

He holds the rose not in romance,
but in reverence.

It is what remains of a love that once beat loudly in his hands —
a promise he could not bury, even when death took its share.

The wolves stand behind him as witnesses,
as guardians of silence,
as keepers of the truths he does not speak aloud.

He is not cruel.

He is not kind.

He is resolute.

He has learned that devotion is not always a warmth —
sometimes it is a discipline,
a vigil,
a vow that makes its home inside the hollowed places.

And still…

He stays.

Not because he cannot leave —
but because he refuses to let memory be abandoned.

Heather Lynn Donovan
Always by Candlelight