Days passed on like that and one week later, the late afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Alexander's private chamber, spilling golden light across the polished marble floor. The air held a quiet weight, one born not of courtly tension but of anticipation. Today was the day Sophia had chosen, after careful planning, patient preparation, and an unshakable determination.
For a week, she had worked quietly with Damien at her side, administering the herbal concoctions she had formulated, observing Alexander's body as it slowly responded. Subtle signs gave her hope: the faint return of sensation in his limbs, the flicker of dormant muscles resisting their stillness, the slightest twitch when he willed movement into legs long defied by strength.
Now, she stood beside him, her hand resting gently on the armrest of his chair, her gaze unwavering. Damien stood on the opposite side, a silent sentinel, his broad frame angled slightly forward, ready to act at the slightest command.
Sophia inhaled, steadying herself. She could hear the restless tide of Alexander's thoughts even before he spoke.
What if this is folly? What if I fail in front of them both? My body has betrayed me before...will it betray me again?
Her expression softened, though she kept her tone measured. "Your Highness," she said, "Today we will not chase perfection. Only progress. Even a single moment of standing is a victory."
Alexander turned his head slightly, his gray eyes catching the sun's gleam. His voice was calm, but beneath it Sophia caught the sharp edge of doubt. "A victory measured in seconds hardly seems worthy of celebration."
Yet in his mind she heard the quieter truth: But if I can do it, even for a breath, it will mean I am not as broken as they think.
She leaned closer, her voice lower, warmer. "Seconds build into minutes. Minutes into strength. Trust me."
He looked at her for a long moment, then gave the faintest nod.
Damien adjusted his stance, hands ready to steady the prince. His mind was quieter than most, disciplined from years of service, but even he could not hide the flicker of protective concern. If he falters, I will not let him fall.
Sophia straightened, moving behind Alexander's chair. "We will begin slowly. Damien, when I signal, lift him with me. Do not rush. The body must remember before it can endure."
Alexander's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the armrest. The air thickened with his tension.
Sophia placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, grounding him. "Breathe first. In. Then out. Your body will listen better when it is not strangled by fear."
He exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, more like a frustrated huff. Still, he obeyed.
At her nod, Damien braced himself. Together, they shifted Alexander forward, easing him to the edge of the chair. His legs, long confined to stillness, dragged heavily, as though weighted by invisible chains. Sophia felt his muscles tremble beneath her guiding hand.
Pain surged through him; she could feel it in the rigid set of his jaw, hear it in the jagged edges of his thoughts. My legs...they burn. They resist. Damn them. Damn this weakness.
Her voice was calm, steady against his storm. "Do not fight the pain. Let it pass through you. You command your body, not the other way around."
He swallowed, sweat already gathering at his brow. His thoughts snarled: Easy words, Sophia. You do not sit in this prison of flesh.
But then another thought, quieter, more fragile: Yet when she says it, I almost believe.
"Now," she said softly, giving Damien the signal.
With practiced care, they lifted. Alexander's weight pressed heavily on their arms as his legs resisted the motion. For a moment, he felt immovable, stone carved into flesh. His face contorted, his breath ragged.
Then, with a guttural exhale, his body shifted. His feet found the floor. His knees locked, wavering, but holding.
He was standing.
Sophia's hand pressed firmly at his back, her voice close to his ear. "There. Do you feel it? The ground beneath you, the weight carried by your own strength? Remember this."
Alexander's mind was a storm of disbelief and stubborn resolve.
I… I am upright. After so long. My legs...frail, trembling...but they obey. They obey!
The seconds crawled. His muscles screamed, a fire of pain shooting up his thighs. His thoughts faltered, staggered under the weight of it.
I cannot… no, I must. I cannot yield. Not in front of her. Not when she—
Sophia's voice cut through, gentle but unyielding. "One breath at a time. Do not count the pain. Count the breaths."
Damien stood steady at his side, his hands hovering just close enough to catch him. His thoughts were a fortress of loyalty.
Endure, Your Highness. For her. For yourself.
Alexander gritted his teeth. One breath. Then another. His body trembled violently, but he remained upright. His gaze fixed on the far wall, as though it were the only anchor against collapse.
Sophia could feel every word unspoken in his mind.
I will not fall. I will not fall. Not while she holds me steady.
Two minutes passed, then three. His strength wavered, the fire in his limbs threatening to consume him. At last, Sophia spoke. "Enough. Sit before your body breaks."
He sank back into the chair with Damien's steadying hands guiding him. His chest heaved, sweat dampening his tunic, but his eyes, those storm-gray eyes were alight with something fierce, something long-buried.
Hope.
For a moment, silence filled the chamber, broken only by his ragged breathing. Then he spoke, voice hoarse but strong. "Three minutes."
Sophia allowed herself a small, rare smile. "Three minutes of victory, Your Highness."
His thoughts were unguarded, raw.
She believes in me more than I do. And I against all reason...I trust her.
Damien inclined his head respectfully, his own relief hidden behind a soldier's discipline. But Sophia heard it in his mind:
His Highness will walk again. She will see to it.
Alexander leaned back in his chair, exhausted but strangely unbowed. His lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smile. "Perhaps seconds do build into something greater after all."
Sophia met his gaze, her voice quiet but firm. "They always do, if you endure them."
And in the quiet of that chamber, the world outside...the whispers, the schemes, the watching eyes...ceased to matter. There was only the prince, his consort, and his most loyal knight, bound together by trust, endurance, and the fragile, precious spark of hope.