[novel drabble] A possible part of Chapter 2 - Drefan returns home...

Title: Drefan Returns home...
Rating: (PG)
Content Notes/Warnings:

Mentions of past spousal and possible child abuse.

Main Character/s: Drefan Royale, Robert Royale
Plot: After having been gone for over a year in the northern deserts, the Prince has returned to home.
Location: The Imperial Royalian Palace.

-

“You worried her.”

A thick swallow, leaning forward on the fencing that was a surround for the spar taking place in front of them. Hands curl around the edging, the slivers digging into his hands as Drefan keeps his silence.

Robert continues, “Aidna thought you were dead for over a year. She would ask me continually if you were still alive. ‘Tell me you can still feel his life-force through the obelisk.’ Your mother prayed for you faithfully.”

“So?” the word is forcefully controlled, and the rest of his response is through grit teeth. “Did you strike her this time to make her stop asking about me?”

The King turns completely from the sparring match behind him, leaning his back against the fence. Arms cross before his chest in a relaxed pose, not even looking at his eldest son as he answers.

“It would not have stopped her. She’s in the grove, as she always is.”

Drefan pushes himself back from the fencing by both of his hands, done with this tense returning conference with his father. He was stiff as a board from being back at the Imperial palace where his life had been hell. The Prince of the Blood made a move to leave and Robert reaches out, his hand a flash. Meaty digits grab the nineteen-year-old by the back of the neck.

A calculated squeeze.

“You were gone for almost two years, Drefan. Did you let that time shorten your memory? I am still your King. You will speak to me as I deserve and show the respect due to me. Do you understand?”

A discordant breath escapes parted lips, eyes wide and staring ahead at nothingness whilst fists at Drefan’s sides shake. But the son gathers his words and they come forth quiet and with as much dignity as the Prince can muster in an effort to hide reborn terror, “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.”