Welcome Home, Princess Raiona

The queen was smaller than I imagined. Frailer, too. Yet she stood straight, her spine held by sheer will. Her wide, teary eyes searched my face relentlessly, as if she feared I would disappear before her very eyes should her gaze even flutter for a moment. Her eyes looked concerningly similar to mine. One trembling hand pressed against her lips. The other clutched tight to the king’s arm.

Don’t cry. These are strangers.

The king was every bit the imposing figure I expected, but there was something unexpected about him. Despite the streaks of white in his long, brown curls that were a clear sign of age, his expression was not at all regal. His jaw trembled, and his eyes glimmered with unshed tears, as if restraining his emotions was a monumental task that threatened to overpower him.

They feel… familiar.

I trembled harder. My body screamed to turn, to flee.

What if I’m not who they want? What if I’m only a shadow of their daughter? A mistake dragged back to them?

I’ve always lived as an orphan. I don’t belong anywhere.

But my feet moved anyway.

Don’t cry.

One step. Then another. Riye and Pan’s hands were warm against mine until I let them go. Someone lifted Mede from my shoulder, but I didn’t look.

Closer.

The queen’s soft sob broke the air, and the sound pierced me deeper than any poisoned blade. The king’s shoulders dropped, iron weight falling from him all at once. He whispered something.

Raiona? Ina? The wind carried it away before I could be sure.

At last, I stopped at the base of the steps.

The queen broke first. She loosed her grip on the king and hurried down, skirts tangling. The king followed slower, deliberate, but his hand shook when he reached for me.

And then… I was in their arms.

I was enveloped in their embrace, surrounded by warmth and trembling, the queen's robe's scent of herbs filling the air. The king's chest was rock-solid and unyielding against me, his presence comforting and reassuring. Their voices mingled together. My name spilled between their lips. Each syllable an echo of the love and longing I had been craving for so long.

Raiona. Beloved. Daughter. Child. Too many words. Too much ache. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

I pressed my forehead into the queen’s shoulder. Let the king’s arm close around both of us. And for the first time in so long, I wasn’t performing. I wasn’t working to prove my worth. I wasn’t an orphan scrambling for scraps of belonging. I was just someone’s child.

But… Ami. Ami must be worried sick for me. She raised me, too. Didn’t she?

The queen clung tighter, as though letting go would undo the years. The king bent low, his breath trembling where no one but me could hear.

I’ve been showered with love before, in laughter and survival with my orphanage siblings, in protectiveness, maybe ownership, from the men I’ve met here.

But I have always wondered how it feels to receive love from parents. Though I couldn’t say that entirely. Ami loved me as a daughter. And I loved her as a mother.

‘Raiona…’ The queen whispered my name like a melody I could almost remember. My eyes burned. My throat locked. I couldn’t answer right away.

’I am Ina now…’ I managed, voice raw.

‘Of course.’ I was hugged tightly by both.

She… This… Is this real? Is this why I have never found my real parents on Earth?

I allowed myself to lean into them. Allowed myself to be small and vulnerable. To be just a daughter. In that instant, the world receded, leaving only the intimate connection between us. It was a tender, fragile moment, as delicate as a shimmering bubble.

Is this what being hugged by parents feels like?

But then, as my arms tightened around my supposed mother, something struck me. Her body was thinner than I remembered, no, thinner than I ever could have imagined, from Raiona’s journal. Beneath her silks I felt frailty, bones too sharp beneath soft skin. Her shallow breath trembled against my ear. My heart lurched.

‘Are you really my mother?’ I whispered, daring to pull back to search her face.

She cried with a grace that undid me. My tears spilled only when the king sniffled, his composure fractured.

She nodded, her voice breaking. ’My poor beloved daughter,’ she whimpered. ‘You are my one and only daughter. My soul. My love.’

I searched her face for the truth. Her beauty was still there, but shadowed by pale skin, by fine lines of weariness etched beneath her eyes. Her smile wavered, bright for me, but I saw it, relief flickered over the pain she tried to hide. I wanted to ask more.

What happened? Are you ill? Why didn’t you fight harder to bring me back? But the words stuck. My tongue was heavy. There was too much to say that I couldn’t.

Before I could stumble further, Pan stepped forward. I hadn’t even realized he had followed me up the steps. His expression was gentle, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the queen. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said quietly, respectful yet firm, ‘let us move inside. The air is still heavy with dust from the convoy. It will be easier for Her Grace to breathe within the halls.’

The queen looked momentarily taken aback but softened her expression. She gave me one final squeeze, a comforting gesture of support, before leaning into the king for comfort.

The king spoke up, his voice steadier, his hand lingered at my back with an unexpectedly gentleness.

'Come, my daughter,' he said. 'You are home. Welcome.'

The sudden flood of emotions I experienced moments before faded, replaced by a surprising sense of belonging. Despite the circumstances, despite the uncertainty and the turmoil, I knew that this place felt like home. The king's warm expression, the queen's gentle touch, the feeling of being wrapped in their embrace, all of it felt right. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

*****

Every step I took through the palace's ornate halls felt like a dream, filled with a sense of deja vu and familiarity. The high vaulted ceilings, adorned with elaborate murals of mythical creatures and abstract shapes, seemed to stretch into eternity, gardens blooming beneath stone colonnades, endless halls where laughter once echoed in journals I didn’t remember writing.

My mother’s steps slowed. She leaned too heavily into the king. Her smile dimmed when she thought no one was watching.

She’s worse than Raiona ever wrote. How long has she been like this?

I wanted so badly to stop her, to blurt my fears, to demand why she looked like this.

Not now. Not when she’s trying to maintain composure at me like this. Not when I’ve only just returned. Maybe it wasn’t my business.

Pan brushed my elbow, his voice close. ‘I’ll see to her condition. Trust me.’

I nodded stiffly, eyes darting back to my mother as she was led deeper into the palace by the king and Pan.

Beside me, Riye’s voice cut through, low and commanding, already pulling the king’s attention. ‘Your Majesty. There are urgent matters that require your ear.’

The king, still half anchored to his queen, glanced back at me. At the girl he had regained. And then at Riye. With a sigh, he nodded. ‘Very well. Come, walk with me.’

The king peeled away, drawn into Riye’s low counsel, and I followed my mother into her chamber. The air smelled of flowers, honey, and herbs. The curtains had been drawn wide to let in daylight, painting the walls in golden streaks.

Pan moved with quiet efficiency, steadying my mother by the arm as she lowered onto the bed. His hands were firm but careful, and he fussed over pillows until her back was properly supported. I hovered, useless and restless, wringing my hands. It felt so strange, wanting to take care of her, yet realizing I didn’t even know how.

I am a health care worker, yes, but how do you even take care of a magical creature mother?

‘Here, my princess,’ Pan murmured, pulling out a chair.

My?

The suspicious word made me furrow my eyebrows. My mother only laughed softly at my face. The sound pulled a reluctant smile from me.

I sat, my gaze darting across the chamber. Pan felt like a part of the furniture. Suddenly his white coat on top of his colorful knitted jumper made sense. He was a professional healer who had to have the colors to cheer people up.

‘Is this… is this the same room?’ My voice sounded small even to my own ears.

My mother’s lips curved faintly. ‘Yes. Your room was across the hall.’ She lifted a weak hand, gesturing vaguely. ‘I used to hear your feet when you snuck across at night. Do you remember?’

I swallowed hard. I wanted to lie. To stitch myself back into her story. But the truth sat sharp in my throat. ‘…No,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t.’

Her smile dimmed, then softened again. She reached for my hand. Her fingers were cool but warm in spirit. ‘Then we will remember together. It does not matter if it comes slow.’

I nodded, blinking fast. My heart ached in two directions at once. Toward the past I couldn’t grasp and toward the fragile woman before me who still tried to shield me from disappointment.

So I did the only thing I could. I began to speak. I told her what I could of my life since. Waking up in the rubble, only one birthmark to my name. About the people who raised me, about Ami, about nursing school, and random memories of three moons. I skipped the darkest pieces, softened the edges, watching her eyes light and dim with each detail.

Her tears fell freely. Mine followed.

And for the first time, I wasn’t just Ina. I wasn’t just Raiona. I was both. And maybe, for her sake, that was enough.