The memory of his mother’s laughter and his father’s rare warmth lingered in King Easton’s mind, refusing to fade. He could almost feel his mother’s gentle touch, hear her soft voice reminding him that a good king must know when to let go.
But as he sat upon his throne, the room before him was far from the warmth of the past.
Before him knelt a man—one of his father’s remaining loyalists, caught plotting to free King Aldric from his distant prison. The nobles in the chamber waited in tense silence, expecting Easton to give the order. The man deserved death; the law was clear.
"Your Majesty," one of his advisors spoke. "This traitor sought to return a tyrant to the throne. He deserves no mercy."
Easton’s fingers tightened around the armrests of his throne. His father would have executed the man without a second thought. But his mother… she would have seen the man before her, not just the crime he committed.
A good king must know when to let go.
"Rise," Easton said, his voice firm but calm.
The father that he did not knew anymore lifted his head, shock flashing across his face.
"I should have you executed," Easton continued, his eyes cold but thoughtful. "And yet… I will not."
Murmurs spread through the court. His advisors exchanged uneasy glances, but Easton did not fall.
King Easton let the murmurs settle before speaking again. His gaze remained locked on the ex king , his voice steady.
"You sought to free a man who brought fear and suffering to this kingdom," Easton said. "For that, you must face the consequences."
The traitor swallowed hard, bracing for the worst.
"You will not die," Easton declared, silencing the court with his unexpected mercy. "But you will live to repay your crime."
He turned to the guards. "Strip him of his titles and lands. He will serve in the kingdom’s farthest outpost, rebuilding villages that my father once destroyed. He will work under the watch of my loyal men until his debt to this realm is repaid."
Gasps spread through the room. Some advisors frowned, believing death was the only fitting punishment. Others nodded in approval, recognizing Easton’s wisdom.
The traitor bowed his head, his body trembling. "My son… I am your father , I do not need your mercy , even better you can get off that throne and everything will be back as it's was."
"This is not mercy," Easton said sharply. "It is justice. You will spend your life repairing what my father broke. If you fail or attempt treachery again, I will not be so kind."
The guards seized the man and led him away. As the doors closed behind them, Easton exhaled slowly, his mind drifting once more to his mother’s words.
A good king must know when to let go.
He had chosen not to be his father. Not to rule with vengeance, but with purpose.
And in that moment, he knew—this was the king his mother had always believed he could be. 
At first, the people were uncertain. Many had suffered under King Aldric’s rule, and though his son now sat on the throne, fear lingered in their hearts. Would Easton follow in his father’s footsteps? Would his mercy lead to weakness?
Whispers filled the streets.
"He spared a traitor , his own father who killed his wife… is he too soft?"
"At least he did not execute without thought. That is already more than his father ever did."
"Time will tell if he is truly different."
Months passed, then years. Easton ruled with a steady hand, balancing justice with wisdom. He did not tolerate treachery, but he did not rule with cruelty. He visited villages that had long been neglected, listening to the grievances of the common folk. When famine struck, he cut the palace’s luxuries to feed the people. When corrupt nobles sought to abuse their power, he stripped them of their positions without hesitation.
Slowly, trust grew.
"He is not his father."
"He listens to us."
"Perhaps… he is the king we have prayed for."
But not all approved. Some of the old nobility still longed for Aldric’s rule—where fear ensured obedience. They conspired in the shadows, believing Easton’s kindness to be weakness.
And so, as trust grew among the people, danger grew within the court.
One day, a spy was sent.
At the night time , Easton loves to spend his time by reading his mother old writing. His mother loved to right poems for the people , her family and especially him , her son.
One of his favourite poem that his mother had written was
" Sons are the archors of his mother's life "
- your mother 
He cried for a moment. Believes that he mother died with horrid , but she had loves him all her life.