CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Father and Son
The summons came that evening, just as the sun was setting over Kingshold.
Orion had been sitting in their assigned quarters—a lavish suite in the east wing, far grander than anything they'd had in Thornhaven—trying to prepare himself for the family dinner. Nera was examining the room's artwork with the practiced eye of someone who had seen far more impressive things but was too polite to say so.
A knock. A servant in royal livery, bowing low.
"Your Highness. The King requests your presence in his private chambers. Alone."
Orion's stomach dropped.
This was it. The reckoning he'd been dreading. His father wanted to speak with him privately, without witnesses, without the formality of court. That could only mean one thing.
"Go," Nera said quietly. "I'll be here when you get back."
"He's going to—"
"You don't know what he's going to do." She crossed to him, taking his hands. "But whatever it is, you can handle it. You've faced worse."
"Have I?"
"Sea monsters. Assassins. A fairy commander who could have destroyed cities." She smiled. "This is just your father. Just a man who loves you enough to send messengers across a continent."
"That's what terrifies me."
"I know." She kissed him softly. "Go. Don't keep him waiting."
He went.
* * *
The King's private chambers were in the heart of the palace, protected by layers of guards and tradition. Orion remembered the route from childhood—the long corridor, the antechamber where petitioners waited, the heavy oak door that led to his father's personal space.
The guards let him pass without question. The door opened at his touch.
Inside, the room was smaller than he remembered. Or perhaps he had grown. The walls were lined with books and maps, the furniture worn with use rather than replaced for appearance. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm light across everything.
His father sat in a chair by the fire, wrapped in a heavy robe despite the warmth. He looked even older here, away from the formality of the throne room. More human. More fragile.
"Close the door," the King said. "And for gods' sake, stop standing there like you're waiting to be executed."
Orion closed the door. "I wasn't sure what to expect."
"Neither was I. Ten years of wondering, and now you're here." The King gestured to a chair opposite him. "Sit. Let me look at you properly."
Orion sat.
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other—father and son, separated by a decade of silence, trying to bridge the gap with their eyes.
"You look like your mother," the King said finally. "More than you used to. Something in the eyes."
"People have said that."
"She would have been proud of you."
"Would she? I ran away from everything she helped build."
"She ran away too, once." The King's smile was sad. "Did you know that? Before we were married. She was promised to a duke in the eastern territories, a political match that would have served her family well. She fled the night before the wedding. Traveled halfway across the kingdom before her father's men caught up."
Orion hadn't known that. His mother had always seemed so... settled. So certain of her place.
"What happened?"
"I happened. I was a young prince, traveling incognito to avoid the formality of a royal visit. I found her hiding in a barn, terrified and determined and more alive than anyone I'd ever met." The King's eyes grew distant with memory. "I helped her escape. Hid her in my retinue, brought her back to the capital. And then I told my father I intended to marry her."
"That must have caused chaos."
"It nearly started a war. Her family was furious. The duke demanded satisfaction. My father thought I'd lost my mind." The King laughed softly. "But I loved her. And she loved me. And eventually, everyone else had to accept that."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to understand." The King leaned forward, his eyes intent. "When I heard you'd married—secretly, without permission, to a woman no one knew—I wasn't angry. I was relieved."
"Relieved?"
"For ten years, I feared the worst. That you were dead. That you hated me so much you'd never return. That I'd driven you away forever with my plans and expectations." His voice cracked slightly. "But then I learned you were alive. That you'd found someone. That you'd built a life worth living. And I thought: he's more like his mother than I ever realized."
Orion felt something loosen in his chest—a knot he'd been carrying so long he'd forgotten it was there.
"I thought you'd be furious," he admitted. "About the marriage. About not telling you. About everything."
"I was. For about a day. And then I realized that fury was just fear wearing a mask." The King reached out, gripping Orion's hand with surprising strength. "I'm not angry, son. I'm grateful. You came back. After everything, you came back."
"You asked me to."
"I asked. I didn't dare hope you'd answer."
* * *
They talked for hours.
Not about politics, not about succession, not about the duties Orion had abandoned. They talked about the years between—where Orion had gone, what he'd done, how he'd survived. The King listened with the attention of a man who had spent decades sifting truth from reports, but his questions weren't probing. They were curious. Hungry for details.
"You became an adventurer," he said at one point, wonder in his voice. "A real one. Not just playing at it."
"It was the only skill I had. Fighting, surviving. You made sure I learned that much."
"I made sure you learned how to be a prince. You made yourself into something else." The King shook his head slowly. "Gold rank. I had my informants check. Gold rank, with a reputation for solving problems others couldn't."
"It's just work."
"It's not 'just' anything. It's proof." His father's eyes glittered. "Proof that you didn't run because you were weak. You ran because you needed room to become strong."
"Marcus said something similar."
"Did he? Good. Perhaps he's learning." A pause. "You fought him, I heard. In the training yard."
"Word travels fast."
"In this palace, word travels instantly. Half the court was watching from the windows." The King smiled. "You beat him."
"He's still an excellent swordsman."
"But you're better. That surprised a lot of people." The smile faded slightly. "It shouldn't have. I always knew you had potential. I just... tried to shape it wrong."
"Father—"
"Let me say this. I've had ten years to think about it." The King took a breath. "I pushed you toward a path you didn't want. I saw you as a piece in a larger game, not as a person with your own needs. And when you pushed back, I pushed harder instead of listening."
"You were doing what you thought was best."
"I was doing what was easiest. Using my children as tools to strengthen the kingdom—it was efficient. Traditional. Expected." His voice grew heavy. "But it wasn't right. Not for you, and not for your siblings. I should have seen you as people first, princes and princesses second."
Orion didn't know what to say. He'd imagined this conversation a hundred times, but never like this. Never with his father admitting fault, showing vulnerability, offering something that looked almost like an apology.
"I forgive you," he said. The words surprised him as much as they seemed to surprise his father.
"You do?"
"I left because I had to. But I stayed away because I was angry—and afraid. Afraid that if I came back, I'd be trapped again." He met his father's eyes. "But I'm not that boy anymore. And you're not... you're not who I thought you were either."
"Who did you think I was?"
"A tyrant. A chess player who moved his children like pieces." Orion shook his head. "But that's not all you are. You're also the man who fell in love with a runaway bride. Who sent messengers across a continent just to meet his son's wife. Who's sitting here admitting he was wrong."
"I had a lot of time to think," the King said quietly. "Your absence taught me things your presence never could."
"Then maybe it was worth something."
"Maybe it was."
They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling between them. Something had shifted—not a complete healing, but a foundation for one. A bridge built across ten years of silence.
* * *
"Now," the King said eventually, his tone shifting to something lighter. "Tell me about this wife of yours."
"Nera."
"Nera Stargrass. A name no one recognizes, a history no one can trace. My informants have been going mad trying to find anything about her."
"There's a reason for that."
"I assumed there would be." The King leaned back, studying his son. "She's not ordinary, is she? I could see that much in the throne room. The way she carried herself. The way she looked at you."
"She's the most extraordinary person I've ever met."
"That's not an answer."
"No, it's not." Orion hesitated. "Her story isn't mine to tell. Not all of it. But I can tell you this: she saved my life. Literally. I was dying in a forest, and she found me, and she chose to save me when she could have walked away."
"And you married her for gratitude?"
"I married her because she saw me. The real me, not the prince, not the runaway, just... me." His voice softened. "And because she let me see her. All of her. The parts she hides from everyone else."
"You love her."
"More than I thought it was possible to love anyone."
The King was quiet for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"Bring her to me. Tomorrow, privately. I want to know her properly—not as a king meeting a new subject, but as a father meeting his son's choice."
"She might be nervous."
"She didn't seem nervous in the throne room."
"She's good at hiding it."
"Then she'll fit right in at court." The King smiled. "Tomorrow. After breakfast. I promise I'll be gentle."
"I'll tell her."
"Good." The King rose, slower than he once would have, his age evident in every movement. "Now go back to her. You've been away long enough, and I'm sure she's worrying."
Orion stood as well. They faced each other—father and son, king and wanderer.
"Thank you," Orion said. "For understanding."
"Thank you for coming home." The King pulled him into an embrace—awkward, unfamiliar, but genuine. "Whatever else happens, I'm glad you're here."
"So am I."
"Even with the chaos? The succession mess? Your siblings circling like sharks?"
"Even with all of that." Orion stepped back, managing a smile. "I've survived worse."
"Have you?"
"Once or twice."
The King laughed—a real laugh, full and warm. "I look forward to hearing those stories. Now go. Shoo. An old man needs his rest."
Orion went, leaving his father standing by the fire, looking somehow younger than he had when the conversation began.
* * *
Nera was waiting exactly where she'd promised—sitting by the window of their suite, watching the city lights spread across the valley below.
"How bad was it?" she asked as he entered.
"It wasn't."
She turned, surprised. "It wasn't?"
"He wasn't angry. He was... relieved. Happy, even." Orion crossed to her, pulling her into his arms. "He told me about my mother. How she ran away from an arranged marriage too. How he helped her escape."
"Your father was a romantic?"
"Apparently. Before he became a king and forgot how." He held her tighter. "He wants to meet you. Tomorrow. Properly, without the court watching."
"Should I be worried?"
"No. He promised to be gentle." Orion pulled back to look at her. "He knows you're not ordinary. He can't figure out your history. But he's not suspicious—just curious."
"Curious is manageable."
"That's what I thought." He touched her face, marveling at how natural it felt to be here with her, in this palace that had once been a prison. "It went better than I ever imagined. He apologized, Nera. For pushing me. For treating me like a piece instead of a person."
"That's... remarkable."
"He's not the man I remembered. Or maybe I'm not the boy who remembered him." He shook his head. "Either way, something's different. Better."
"I'm glad." She leaned into him. "You deserve a father who sees you."
"Now I have one. And a wife who sees me even more clearly."
"Flattery."
"Truth."
They stood together by the window, looking out at the city that had once been his home and might, somehow, become part of their home again.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges—the family dinner, the introduction to his father, the endless politics of a kingdom in transition. But tonight, for the first time since the messenger had arrived in Thornhaven, Orion felt something like peace.
His father loved him. Still loved him, despite everything.
And that, it turned out, was all he'd ever really needed to know.
— End of Chapter Twenty-Eight —