Hello everyone! This is my first Sofia fanfiction and I hope you enjoy it. Since I've been working on this story for almost upwards of two years now, I've decided it's time to revisit my older chapters and make adjustments. Thank's for all of those who have given feedback, both on and off this site! For those of you who are just discovering this story today, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a review! I always like to see them and what I can improve on :)

A Father's Love

Chapter 1: Pain

Miranda walked with her husband into the throne room. She often accompanied him to his meetings with citizens of their Kingdom. She had become queen little more than two years ago, and at first, she did little else than observe in these meetings and make suggestions on resolving issues between citizens, but she was learning. Now, more often than not, she had been able to contribute to decisions of trade, policy and diplomatic relations. As it turns out, she wasn't half bad at being queen. It felt good, and she was finally starting to feel like she belonged here.

Roland led Miranda to her throne and they sat down together. He smiled at her, "Ready?" He asked, patting her hand. Miranda nodded and the king motioned to Baileywick to show in the first petitioner.

Miranda watched the man as he walked into the king's throne room. He moved cautiously, his gaze downcast. The way he moved reminded her of a guilty dog. Every couple of seconds he would glance at the Queen, then return his eyes to the floor. Miranda stiffened; it couldn't be him. It wouldn't be him. Would it?

He was still a ways away from them as the throne room was very large. She was just imagining things, why would he be here? She had no reason to worry; this was just another citizen coming to see the king and queen about an issue that would not directly affect their lives. As he approached however, she realized this was not true. It was him; there was no mistake. He seemed different though. He no longer stumbled in zigzags as he walked, and the whites of his eyes were clear, untainted by the familiar red she had been accustomed to.

"Your majesties," the man greeted, bowing low. His voice was clear and soft, yet it made Miranda's stomach turn. "Thank you for meeting with me. I am Birk Balthazar, your humble subject."

Miranda's stomach tightened and she pressed her folded hands onto her abdomen. It was all she could do to keep herself from gagging.

Roland looked at the man with general kindness as he did all of his subjects when they came into the throne room. "What is it you need my good man?" He asked in his deep, warm voice.

Miranda's lips tightened, but tried her best not to show it. She could imagine this man being many things, and none of which would be described as 'good.'

"I humbly request to meet the acquaintance of Princess Sofia." Birk said slowly.

Miranda gripped the arm of her chair so hard her nails dug into the soft wood. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. Wait, how does he know her name? Of course, she is the Princess; he must have found us because of all the commotion of the royal wedding. Whatever the case may be, who is he to come after all these years, barge into my new life and suddenly take interest in my daughter? It took all her restraint not to jump at his throat. She stood up sharply, "Why!" She demanded. She knew her tone was too harsh, too hostile. But it was hard to maintain her queenly air around this man. "What do you want with her?"

Birk winced at the queen's apparent distaste for him but regained his composure.

"Miranda?" Roland asked, concerned and confused. He looked at her and she at him. His compassionate concern calmed her down a little bit. She let out a small breath she didn't know she had been holding and relaxed her fists so that her nails no longer dug grooves into her skin.

"You, of all people, my queen, have the right to speak to me as you do. But I'm here to tell you that the man you once knew is no more, and I wish, with all my heart to make amends for all the harm I did to you and to the Princess." Miranda scowled. Roland stood and looked at her, confusion and concern spreading across his face. Miranda couldn't look him in the eye; He was too calm, too concerned about her own feelings. He probably didn't see the dangerous man right in front of him. Didn't he realize this stranger, at least to him, was asking to see their daughter? No, he wasn't stupid, of course he did, but he wasn't going to make a judgment of the man until he knew more. It both pleased and irked her sometimes that he was so meticulous about gathering information first.

"Prithee, tell us why you want to see our daughter." Roland said as he stood up next to his wife. Miranda saw the man wince ever so slightly at the mention of "our." Had Roland noticed it? She hoped, prayed that he did. Please tell me he saw, please tell me he has an inkling to who this man is so I don't have to explain later. Listen to me, since when have Rollie and I kept secrets from each other? Although, I haven't heard much about his former wife, so I guess we still don't know everything about each other's pasts. Miranda decided that whether or not Roland knew who this man was, she'd tell her husband the whole story later.

She returned her gaze to the man—when had she looked away?

"As I said before, your Majesty," the man spoke up again, "I long to correct the wrongs I've committed against the Queen and the Princess." Birk gazed at the ground in silence for a few moments before speaking again—much softer this time.

"Miranda." He turned his gaze upwards again, his icy blue eyes soft and glistening. She hated the sound of her name coming from his lips; he looked like a dog hopelessly begging for scraps. It made her sick.

Birk continued, "I know you don't trust me, you have every right to. You have every right to deny me my request. But I truly long to be reunited with my daughter, to know her and have her know me, as it should have been from the beginning. I know you hate me, and I'm sure Sofia does too. But I want to make it right! Please Miranda, I'm not the man I used to be! At least let me see her?"

Roland stayed silent and gazed at his wife.

Miranda's brows arched farther down. She blinked hard, then looked back at the man. His eyes carried no malice, no trace of the rage that had once had filled them so easily. He was genuine, something Miranda had not seen from him in many, many years.

Despite the fact she had no reason to trust him, something in her softened toward him. "I... cannot give you an answer right now." Sadness filled Miranda's eyes. "Come by tomorrow, and you will have your answer."

The man's eyes gleamed as he looked up at the queen. "Thank you, your Majesty." He bowed, and then was escorted out of the throne room.

Miranda sighed and fell limply into her chair, rubbing her forehead with one hand, hiding her face. For a long moment, she stayed like that. Roland touched her shoulder, and she flinched. It wasn't him; he wasn't the one that made her flinch. His touch was warm and loving, and she wanted to relax into his touch, but she couldn't. She couldn't meet his gaze. Gently, she removed his hand from her shoulder and stood. He slid his hand down to touch hers and she took it, she was glad to have him there. For that moment, she had forgotten that she had a husband she could lean on for support; she was no longer alone in her internal battles. No, she never forgot Roland was a good husband, but seeing Birk after all these years made her feel anxious, alone, and unworthy of comfort. That's why she had flinched at Roland's first touch; she did not feel she deserved it. She had lied to him—not by saying something that was untrue, but by not saying anything at all. He knew about Birk, Miranda had at least told him of the man's existence. From the scene that just played out, he'd probably gathered that Birk was Sofia's father and they had a history she had kept from him. He knew she hadn't told him the whole truth, yet he was not angry, not wrathful—none of those things were even in his nature. He was waiting patiently, ready to comfort her, ready to listen to her. She wanted to throw herself into his embrace, to cry into his chest until her tear ducts were dry and she could no longer feel the pain the savage man had inflicted upon her years ago. Why didn't she? Oh, that's right. She didn't deserve it.

Miranda let go of Roland's hand and ambled out of the throne room. She wasn't sure where she was going, just away from here. Sometimes when she needed alone time, she'd go to the garden or sit on the balcony of her and Roland's room. But her legs couldn't carry her that far. Shortly after she was out of the throne room and out of earshot of Roland, she broke down. She leaned against the wall, sobbing, and sank to the floor. Yes, this is where she belonged, alone with her sorrows and pain. She didn't deserve anybody else. It was just as Birk had said countless times before.

Roland wanted so badly to follow his wife. But he knew better. She'd only be comforted when she sought it out, or when she'd had her fill of alone time, and then he'd be able to go to her and simply wait until she was ready to talk. Only when she told him what was going on, would she accept his embrace and return it and feel comforted. In their short marriage, he had learned her well enough to know at least that much.

Baileywick spoke after a long moment. "Your Majesty?" Roland turned to face his steward. He could tell Baileywick wanted to say something but was unsure of exactly what. Roland knew the man wanted to continue with the meetings, or at least ask, but he had never seen Miranda act like this before. Something so private had never been expressed in front of others. He knew it would be better if he left her alone, at least for a little while, that way she could calm down. Then, maybe she'd talk to him. He would continue with the meetings for now, see two or three more people, and then seek out his precious wife.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Baileywick." Roland said quietly. Baileywick was still silent. When it was clear he wasn't going to speak, Roland told him his decision. "Everything will be alright. I'll see two more people and then go care for my wife. She'll need some time before she's ready to talk."

Baileywick relaxed visibly and gave a look of relief. "Of course, your Majesty." He walked away and saw the next person inside. Roland sat back on his throne and hoped what he told Baileywick was true. The last time Miranda mentioned her former husband, she and Roland were not yet married. He knew they divorced when Sofia was still a baby, but she gave no solid reason, and as much as he cared for his queen, he didn't wish to pry.