The Regent accused her of weakness.
The city saw something else.
A Queen standing in bread lines beside common families.
Support shifted.
The Regent disappeared again before the Prince captured him on Prison Island.
But his commanders remained.
When sails finally appeared on the horizon, the capital did not know whose ships they were.
The harbor bells rang.
Soldiers assembled.
The Queen walked onto the sea wall.
One black galley approached.
No banner.
Then a figure stepped onto the prow.
Small.
Brown tunic.
Bow across his body.
The Queen’s knees nearly failed.
The Prince raised one hand.
This time she did too.
Then another figure emerged behind him.
Gray-bearded.
Thin.
Holding the rail.
The Queen stopped breathing.
The King.
The city became silent.
Thousands of people watched.
The King lifted his head.
The Queen descended the sea wall before anyone could stop her.
She ran.
Queens were not supposed to run.
She did not care.
The gangplank dropped.
The King came down slowly.
He had imagined this moment too.
Perhaps everyone had.
No speech survived it.
The Queen reached him.
Stopped.
Slapped him.
The Prince’s eyes widened.
The King touched his cheek.
“That seems fair.”
Then the Queen threw her arms around him.
The harbor erupted.
People screamed.
Cried.
Soldiers struck spears against shields.
Bells rang.
The Prince stood behind them smiling.
The Old Archer whispered, “Don’t get sentimental.”
The Prince wiped his face.
“I have salt in my eyes.”
“Of course.”
The celebration lasted only minutes.
Because the Regent’s commanders moved.
Three palace towers changed banners.
A horn sounded from the northern gate.
The Captain drew his sword.
The King looked toward the city.
“How many?”
The Queen answered immediately.
“Maybe two thousand.”
“Loyal?”
“To him.”
The Prince stared.
“We brought forty.”
The King smiled faintly.
“Then we’ll need more.”
They did not storm the palace.
That was what the Regent’s commanders expected.
Instead the King and Queen walked together through the harbor district.
No armor.
No chariot.
The Prince between them.
People followed.
Fishermen.
Merchants.
Dockworkers.
Veterans.
Women carrying bread.
Children.
By the time they reached the market, hundreds had become thousands.
Royal guards at the first barricade lowered their spears.
Their commander shouted.
“Hold!”
No one moved.