Feathers, Flaws and Family
“…not to mention the fact that the train station and line as a whole has torn hundreds of farms in half, ruined our system of irrigation from the river in the process and has done nothing for us but let our children leave their homes to seek a ‘better’ life in the Herzland! You have taken everything from me and many others like me for the sake of industrialisation and-“
A gavel loudly slammed down upon wood, silencing the distraught griffon who’s time to speak was now over. Grover, sitting on his throne, looked on sympathetically at this guest who would now need to take the very same train he despised home to the frontier. It would have been entertaining in its irony if his emotionally charged cry for assistance wasn’t so convincing and genuine.
“Thank you for your council, Volodymyr.” The emperor returned in a deliberately meek voice, hanging his head just slightly reciprocate the bow that this subject of his was required to perform.
The poor pronunciation of the citizen’s regional name only served to put a scowl on the griff’s already disgruntled face, an expression with which Grover had become quite used to, despite his best efforts. He felt all the worse for that fact that this poor frontiergriff had just spoken to him in perfect Herzlander, only for the most important person in the empire to fail at just his name.
He was escorted out of the room, looking as though he would gladly have torn His Imperial Majesty’s feathers out one by one if given the chance. Once alone, save for guards and two advisors, that same emperor took up his notepad and scribbled some notes with a rapidly shortening pencil; his muscles relaxed in and instant alongside his upright posture. He quietly prayed to Boreas that the rest of his day wouldn’t be quite as stressful. Unfortunately, if public council over the last few months was any indication, it was a vain hope. If anything, it was going to get more difficult as time went on.
Grover sighed and set down his overused jotter, resting his head against tired talons and habitually stroking his golden plumage; a tick of sorts that he had picked up in becoming progressively more swamped in work. He was overwhelmed. These sessions with his citizenry were once seen by his Uncle Gerlach as stress-relief, word from the commongriff that could even be funny and positive at times when the rest of the world was so full of work. Now however it only served to inflame His Majesty’s anxiety that all the work he was doing had little to no impact. Now it was on such a great scale that it really sounded as though the entire nation hated him; which wasn’t far from the truth in some cases. Now Griffonia had it out for their monarch. He tried to push the thoughts of his ruling inadequacies out of mind, but to little effect.
A minute of breathing exercises later and Grover was told of their next visitor. A pony from the province of Longsword, although she had unsurprisingly written it down as Southern Vartai, who had been on the waiting list since the region was made an integral part of the administration. At least pony names were easier to pronounce.
“Bring her in,” He commanded, using a tone that sounded more apprehensive with each arrival.
The royal guard obliged, swinging open the gigantic gilded doors to the throne room and letting in a pony that must have been only a year or two older than Grover himself. His back was already straight and his claws were planted on either side of the throne, taking a stance that he’d been taught by his uncle; apparently it made commonfolk feel more at ease. He had to wonder if she’d applied to visit his uncle at the time without realising how long she would have to wait to see her ruler.
“Welcome, Forest Trotter. You may proceed in commencing this council at your leisure,” The young griffon gave out, hiding his emotions almost entirely as he recited those words.
She had a short white coat, a ginger mane and a mark that he couldn’t make out from his seat, a commonality with ponies in this setting. It took a few seconds for the mare to trot up to the little wooden podium that they erected in front of the throne for this event, but she had a fiery look in her eyes which told him that he wouldn’t need to wait before getting to the crux of her complaints.
“Your Majesty, I bring forth a very simple problem. We ponies, in spite of the law’s best efforts, are criminally marginalised by your rule. Years of nationalistic fervour and conquest to unite griffonkind have resulted in a sense of cultural superiority, one that has only worsened after the humiliation of the River Federation in the war that gained you the land in which I lived and still live. On a daily basis I receive cursory glances of disgust, weekly a derogatory shout and at night my community is warned to stay inside for fear that particularly perverted griffons will target my kind for… Well, I’m sure the Emperor of Griffonkind knows for what.” The mare began, expectedly unhappy and distressed at the very real racism that her kind were known to experience in many parts of the empire.
“I see. I apologise for the failures of my administration in keeping your kind safe and protected as though they were my own. What would you have me do to resolve these issues or, at the very least, assist in resolving them?” Grover asked with a furrowed brow, knowing very well the conditions ponies had to put up with.
“Affirmative action. Griffs may hate it, in fact I’m certain that they will, but it is necessary if you truly wish to give ponies a chance here. I know many who are trying to scrounge funds together in order to emigrate across the border to the Federation despite the chaos that was caused by the invasion and many more are trying desperately to travel overseas to Equestria in order to get a better standard of living. Programs for pony employment, government-sponsored sports events across the empire which could get foals and littlegriffs to play together and eventually change the way their parents perceive ponies; anything is better than what we have to live with now. Please… You’re the only one that really seems to give an idol about us.” Her fiery voice subsiding all of a sudden for one that was far more solemn and desperate, much like that of the frontiergriff that had been here minutes earlier.
It was quite common for citizens to use these sessions in order to berate the emperor, despite the importance of what was effectively a one-to-one audience. Grover was appreciative that this pony was respectful, though her concerns had sadly been voiced many times already and he had been drafting plans for some projects like the ones suggested intermittently over the last month. He wouldn’t tell her that here of course, or ever in the future; he would have to live with the knowledge that she had waited the best part of two years in order to see him for little gain. At the very least she could walk out of the room thinking that she had contributed. That was a feeling that the emperor wished he could share.
~*~
That evening, His Majesty was hunched over at his office desk, refusing to look at the time for fear that it was already too late to get a decent night’s sleep and writing report after report, trying to generate ideas for the issues put forward which he hadn’t yet gotten around to dealing with. This much stress wasn’t good for him, nor was the anxiety that resulted from it; but in his mind this was the lesser choice of two evils, he suffered so that his subjects wouldn’t. That was the charge of a leader, especially in times like these when there was so much strife to deal with. Even after the reforms passed by his uncle and aunt, administrative changes and new law that the empire would likely have collapsed without by now, they had left quite a mess. Not intentionally of course, they had done as much as they could in thirteen years; they did their best for the empire. Grover knew that he wouldn’t be where he was without them, but he often wondered now if this was the future that they wanted for him.
For just a moment the griff leaned back in his lacquered hardwood chair, his back aching and his wrists in pain from hours of writing at Boreas knows what hour in the night. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his talons; careful not to take his own eyes out with those trimmed but still dangerous claws. He had to finish these by morning, just like he’d had to finish last night’s work by this morning. He was responsible for one-hundred-and-thirty million souls, that was a responsibility that was worth sacrificing sleep for; for months or even years if necessary. He was tasked with building bridges across a state which had more than fifty major languages, one who’s population outside of the Herzland almost universally despised him and one who’s stability was only currently guaranteed by a nationalism that significant minorities of ponies and other creatures also despised. They screamed and shouted ‘tyrant’ whilst he worked himself to death, that was his duty to those who had suffered and were suffering now; his duty to those that had died to achieve the Pan-Griffonian dream. Actually, that was another group that hated him come to think of it; the veterans who didn’t think they were getting the respect that they deserved…
The pencil that was still locked between his graphite-stained talons snapped in two almost without him noticing, shattering the silence that had only just filled his study. This was too much. It was all too much. He just wanted to be given a moment to himself, some breathing room in this deafening cacophony of utter hatred and overwhelming burden of an entire empire that never wanted to be reunited.
With half a pencil tightly gripped and shaking in one leathered claw, the other planted on the table in front of him, the emperor’s head fell forward and rested on the latter. His breathing became belaboured and the small round-frame glasses slid off of his beak and fell to the floor, cracking the glass in the left-claw frame. He wanted it to stop. He wanted time to fix in place then, to be free for just a little while.
What was left of the pencil then slipped to the floor soon after as his free talons went limp. Grover’s attention was on trying not to let his emotion show, trying to hide it from himself and failing. He could feel what he didn’t want to feel dampen the feathers on his cheeks already, rising from his desk again and shaking his head; reaching for another pencil but unable to put it to use on the paper for the water in his eyes. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was crying. He could hardly see and there were wet patches just above his beak where the tears had already been absorbed. Knowing that nobody would know he had broken down like this if they came to see him in half an hour only made things worse. The Emperor of Griffonkind sobbed uncontrollably in his chair, face buried in his sore claws as he tried to hide from himself, alone yet surrounded and utterly powerless.
A few minutes passed, then many more came and went as the sorry heap of golden feathers sat and endured his predicament; unable to think cohesively, let alone stand. It took a substantial amount of time before the snivels and meek whimpers saw themselves away from His Majesty’s throat, another half-an-hour or so when he finally sat up in his chair.
The still-tender griff gingerly reached down to pick up his glasses, ignoring the previously snapped writing instrument entirely and putting the broken spectacles on his desk just in front of him. For a moment it seemed as though he was going to start all over again, digging his claws into the expensive wooden armrests of his chair. Instead, Grover cocked his head slightly, grimaced, shuddered and slowly got out of his seat to leave the room in spite of his weak muscles.
~*~
Midwinter had always been oddly calming. Not for being cold of course, even griffons had limits to what their feathery insulation could achieve, but for the simple fact that it stimulated almost every sense at once. The Emperor of Griffonkind could feel his talons get colder, hear the chilling wind rush through and around the ancient palace and see the frost forming around him that tomorrow everyone would be both praising for its beauty and condemning for its annoyance. It meant he didn’t have to think. It washed away the sensory overload that he could so easily feel these days, carefully cleaned away a lot of bad feelings. He had already had some degree of catharsis from the incident in his study, but this was a much more immediate remedy; if one can call easing the symptoms of a problem the cure. But, now out on the balcony and close to the very top of his species’ ancestral home, that was something else he didn’t have to think about.
Grover sighed heavily, feeling his cheeks with one foreclaw to see if the wet patches would be noticeable to anyone else and tightly grasping the stone balustrades with the other. This always helped. He’d been coming out here more and more frequently as time went on, coinciding with the increasing workload and growing sense of responsibility that only made his... His…
All of a sudden, the emperor realised that he couldn’t even say it to himself anymore without bringing back that terrible sensation that had caused him to become so incapable. Only made His… Anxiety, Eyr forbid that anyone else spoke the word in his presence now, worse; was what he had tried to think to himself.
But, really, this was a good thing. He’d gotten it out of his system and could continue as normal now, for the most part at least. Nogriff and nopony knew about this, he could keep going; though the idea that others now had secrets that they might try to find out about him didn’t help his fears. But it would be okay. He could keep doing this. It was all going to be-
“Good morning Your Highness. You’re up bright and early this morning,” A voice barked out from the doorway behind him.
Grover jumped out of his plumage, turning about in an instant to see Benito as his tail hit the edge of the balcony; utterly taken aback by the arrival of the Commander of the Royal guard. His fight-or-flight terror was instantly replaced with a different sort of panic as he realised just how late, or early, he had stayed awake. Could he see the tear-marks? Did he hear the entire thing from his room? Did the dog know that he hadn’t slept? Why couldn’t he get any Boreas-forsaken words out of his beak?
“Oh! My deepest apologies your majesty, I didn’t mean to startle you; I should have thought better of pulling you out of whatever it was you were thinking about.” The now elderly yet still energetic hound added quickly, apologising for scaring his beloved emperor.
“N-no, it’s quite alright Benito; I… I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Good morning to you,” He managed in response, the sudden sense of distress fortunately hidden by what his loyal guard thought was a simple fright.
“Good morning to you too, Grover. I’ll leave you to your musings and let the cooks know that you’re already out of bed. If you like I can bring breakfast up to you so that you may watch the sunrise, they’re quite the sight at this time of year.” He offered politely, entirely oblivious as to the state of his liege at this moment.
“I… Yes, please; that sounds lovely.” The emperor assented, trying not to let the utter fear he felt exude from his voice.
Benito simply bowed with a slight smile, thinking nothing more of the matter as he went back inside and headed down the corridor to go about his slightly extended duties. The Emperor of Griffonkind meanwhile breathed both a physical and internal sigh of relief as one of his oldest friends and mentors disappeared deep into the palace.
He couldn’t keep doing this. That realisation hit him like a freight train and the young griffon had to steady himself on the side of the balcony once more, taking deep breaths and trying to think clearly. If Benito, the one who had been there when the Archon tried to take him, could make him feel so terrified whilst doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary… Who could he turn to? The question was no longer whether or even when he would seek some kind of help, but who knew how best to help him; if anyone at all?
He hadn’t a personal physician like his father in the time he knew him and he didn’t know of any clinics that could help and that was without considering what it would look like to visit one frequently in the eye of the public. He couldn’t give the nation more ammunition like that in a time like this.
Grover watched the horizon as the first signs of light began to break through the thin clouds that lingered there, the precursor to a pretty sunrise. He knew who he had to see to get help, but… Having to tell his mother and father figure all of this was almost as terrifying a prospect as trying to keep going without assistance.
Half an hour passed, the colours on the skyline began to diversify and Benito returned with pancakes. He was about to leave after a quick hello and thank you when the emperor turned around again and looked as though there was something he wanted to say.
“Benito, I… Sorry, I’m keeping you from your duties, but-“ He began, pausing and almost stuttering at every other word that left his beak.
“My duty is to serve you Grover, I can always make more time.” The hound responded, putting on the most reassuring expression he could muster for his young friend.
“Thank you. I… I need to see my uncle and aunt. Today.” He managed, mustering all his courage to finally make his problems a shared burden.
~=≡\ /≡=~
It had taken a busy morning of work to get affairs in order for such a spur-of-the-moment departure, mostly because Grover had to assign a few trusted advisors to oversee royal duties within about three hours of making the decision to leave and then going. Fortunately, he still had the authority of an absolute monarch despite the political reforms which had been introduced during the reforging of the empire, which meant that he could take time off like this when it was necessary. A tad inconvenient for others, maybe; but this wasn’t something he could leave until another time.
Now that he was unpacking his light luggage from the boot of his car, flanked by a small number of guards, he couldn’t help but question the decision to come out to De Vleugels. He tried to push out the nagging sensation in his head that he should go back and not bother the pair in their happy retirement as well-connected nobility but… Well, he was here now. He couldn’t go back with them running after him if he tried to leave before he’d even said hello, which really was a sign of how much he knew they cared; even if right this second he wished they didn’t at all.
His guards stood silently as the young griffon froze in place for a few moments, took a few breaths and hauled out a large rucksack which he quickly slung over his neck. The fact that they were trained well enough to simply not look at him during his weak moments was something he was admittedly incredibly thankful for. Their presence still made him nervous though, unsurprisingly. Even though they were protecting him and he knew they weren’t even thinking about looking at him, he couldn’t help the feeling that they were judging him. It was a sensation he was almost used to at this point.
Almost.
Grover ascended the stone steps to the front of the decadent mansion, a worthy home for those of great merit and the place he remembered most from his early years. A few good memories of playing in the front gardens returned to him as he approached the door and knocked, putting him at ease as the heavy wooden door shuddered just slightly with the rapping.
Within a matter of moments the door swung open, revealing his uncle at the door and his aunt rushing up to the entrance as he entered with the large bag atop his back. Compared to the already murky outdoors and the winter sun already below the horizon even though it was only half-six in the evening, the warm orange of the lights inside the house seemed so inviting.
“Oh Grover, I’ve missed you so much!” Gabriella gave out loudly, having barrelled down the corridor and almost knocking over her husband in the process.
“H-hey mum! I’ve missed you too, a lot.” He managed in response, chuckling and almost being thrown over himself as the Duchess of Strawberry clutched her son tightly.
“She’s been complaining that you haven’t visited you know,” Uncle Gerry added softly with a smile, waiting until the two had finished hugging before going inside.
“Well it’s… It’s a good thing I’m here then, isn’t it?” The Emperor of Griffonkind retorted lightly, now released from the tight clutches of his mother.
Of course Gabriella was legally his aunt, but over many years they had developed a very strong mother-son relationship. Never knowing his real mother, using the associated terms with his uncle and aunt came fairly quickly and without issue as the littlegriff had tried to attach himself to the nearest adults; which resulted in Gabriella likewise using such endearing terms for her little bundle of joy. He usually used the term ‘aunt’ much more elsewhere so that he didn’t have to explain his position and general feelings towards his wards whenever somegriff inevitably asked why he called the Duchess of Strawberry his mother.
His relationship with Gerlach, or Gerry as he used to say when he couldn’t pronounce the griffon’s name properly, was slightly less intimate in nature. They cared about one another of course, that went without saying, but Gerlach had never had such a close bond with Grover as his wife did even from the start. The emperor felt that the duke saw him as more of a close friend, or somegriff that he hadn’t quite had the time to get to know as much as he wanted to. That feeling… Well, it hurt quite a lot; even if he’d only realised just have prevalent the sense of uncertainty was in recent years as he spent even less time around him. He had wanted to refer to him as dad, or something of that ilk, after Gabriella became mum but had never had the courage to press his somewhat reserved uncle on his feelings or-
“Come on Grover, dinner’s almost ready,” The grey-feathered griff chimed, patting him on the shoulder with slight awkwardness as he called him to eat.
~*~
The little family of three sat at the ancient mahogany table, plates on top of little cloth mats to avoid spillages ruining the woodwork. He had certainly missed this, much as he had his mum and d… his mum and uncle’s cooking; something they were doing together a lot more frequently now that they had the time for it. His Majesty had offered to help prepare before eating, but everything had already been done for him.
“Did you hear that they recently finished the new nuclear powerplant in Griffenheim?” The duke offered, to make polite conversation.
“Mhm! I reviewed the plans for it myself when they proposed the project, actually. Though I must admit that the little I know about nuclear fission I only learned for the sake of conversation. It’s, uhm… A little too esoteric for me, as science goes.” The gold-feathered griff explained in parts between mouthfuls, managing conversation just fine for the moment as they ate.
“Oh, yes. Leave the jargon to the professionals.” His uncle agreed with a little nod and a slight chuckle, knowing that he hadn’t even the slightest grasp of modern physics himself.
Dinner was always relatively relaxed and full of such small talk, though considering what the emperor intended to talk about it wasn’t much help to his state of mind. He still ate his meal at record pace through a combination of genuine hunger and an ongoing growth spirt which gave him a lot of room. Mum and… And Gerlach soon caught up all the same. As was tradition, they were now about to talk at the table for a while; assumedly to make up for the lack of decent conversation during dinner.
“I’ve heard some of the council sessions you’ve had to handle on national radio honey. You’ve… You’ve had quite the rough go of it.” The pink griffon to his right started, immediately throwing him into the deep end of the precise conversation he hadn’t been wanting to come up.
“Whu- I… Uh… Yeah, a little bit. It’s been busy, and… stressful. Really stressful.” He managed, immediately stuttering and looking like he’d seen a ghost at those words.
Both of his parents looked one another and then back at him with worried frowns, knowing what that really meant but unsure if they should press the subject or not. Well, at least they knew now why he’d come at such short notice. Gabriella in particular was concerned, for obvious reasons. She had always been very protective, though generally managed to hold herself back from restricting Grover when he was younger; that was mostly thanks to Gerlach.
“Is everything alright? You don’t sound like yourself,” His uncle managed, taking the plunge after his wife remained silent which caught the gold-feathered griffon equally as off guard.
“Well I… Yeah, it’s…” He began, but stopped short and sighed. The Emperor of Griffonkind looked down with a grimace on his face and a slight sniff, taking off his spare glasses with a shaking claw and putting them on the table; “No. No, it’s… I’m… It’s not alright. I can’t… I can’t…” Grover gave out, trying desperately to say what he wanted and needed to say.
Almost immediately the other two griffons pushed away their chairs and moved towards him, one much faster than the other. Mum planted her talons around her son and began to gently stroke the feathers on his head as he began to cry for the second time today. The poor thing was snivelling and already his cheeks were wet in the same spot they had been prior. This is all it had taken to utterly tear apart the façade of calm that he had managed to scrape together
His uncle stopped slightly short, unsure exactly how exactly he should go forward with comforting the young griffon. He had never really learned how to deal this sort of thing no matter how much he had learned from his wife, Boreas, Grover never even used to need it; he’d always done so well in the past. Now that he was paying a little more attention to the griffon’s appearance as he sobbed and leaned into his mother’s embrace, he could at least see the tell-tale signs of overworking and stress. Massive bags under his eyes… Talons that were far too long to have been looked after properly… Eyr, he could see just how exhausted the boy must be purely from how his foreclaws were shaking. How long had he been trying to hold things together like this? Could he have… Helped prevent this if he’d just… Tried a little harder to connect? He didn’t know. Gerlach could hardly remember what his dad had been like when he was like this. Maybe that’s why he didn’t know how to help.
“I’m just going to go and get some tissues sweetheart; I’ll be right back.” Gabriella said softly, making as best a smile as she could and giving Gerlach a stare as though to say ‘Come on, do something; you know how much you mean to him!’
The duchess slowly got up and went to the kitchen whilst Gerlach slowly plodded forwards to take her place on the opposite side to where she’d just been nuzzled up. He’d never been much of a hugging griffon, probably because he never got many himself way back when. He didn’t really know how to do it properly, after all these years.
Grover started a little, feeling his uncle’s claws wrap around him for the first time in years. His feathers were less well kept, but softer; his grey plumage was… It was right. He didn’t want to let his da… His uncle, go. He leaned into the duke’s neck slightly and put a shaking talon around the cautious griffon, his tears beginning soak into the dark and fluffy ruff of feathers that kept Gerlach so warm in these colder months.
He couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable as he held his nephew, as though it was something entirely alien to him. That assessment wasn’t too far from the truth either, he had hardly touched the boy in all these years; save for a few choice moments. After a few seconds he leaned in further and properly embraced the poor thing in his claws, taking care to be as gently as he could manage. Even though the mess of golden feathers in his careful hold seemed to be crying even more now, clearly he didn’t want him to let go.
~*~
A few moments later Gabriella returned from her brief hurry between the kitchen and the living room, from which she brought with her a handkerchief that was as-of-yet unused. She almost felt a little bad for leaving the two of them together, neither Gerlach or Grover were very good at dealing with one another. To be fair to them both, they did try; but it had always been a little difficult for them to get along even nearly as well as they did with her. Small little arguments usually went through her instead of directly between the two of them, requests from her son always went through her first… It could be a little difficult to manage the pair of them sometimes, but they knew how to avoid pushing each other’s buttons now at least. It was progress; slow but visible.
That was why, when she turned the corner into the open dining room, she stopped dead in her tracks; not frightened in the slightest, simply taken aback. The duchess stood and watched as her husband held the young griffon in a firm hug and stroked his hair, not unlike how she usually went about holding him when such a thing was necessary. She had been trying for years to persuade either of them to do something even remotely similar to this, mostly failing for one reason or another, but there they were. Even if she wished that this moment of bonding could have come a little sooner, the strawberry pink griffon couldn’t help but smile and hold back a little laugh. This was a scene she had admittedly pictured in her head before, minus the crying. Seeing the two griffons she cared about most finally soften up to each other was quite powerful.
Managing to hold back her own sudden urge to cry just a little, Gabriella plodded slowly up to the two of them and held out the handkerchief with a warm smile. Gerlach took it and passed it to Grover, smiling right back and spreading his currently unused wing when he saw the elated and yet restrained look on his partner’s face. That was a look he knew well. She sat down and rested her head just next to her husband’s neck and sighed softly.
The grey-feathered duke blinked slowly, shifting his gaze every now and then between his wife and his so… His… Nephew? No. His… His son. This was comfortable. Everything about it felt just how it should be to the duke. For just a second, he frowned; silently cursing himself for being too… Scared. Was that it? Was that the only reason that he’d never allowed himself to do something like this? Years… He’d wasted so many years… He hated himself for just a few moments more, before Grover moved just slightly on his feathered ruff; instantly bringing a smile to his old beak. Maybe he hadn’t made the right choices but… This was what he wanted, now that he knew what it was like.
“Th… Thanks, Gerlach. This is… This is nice,” He heard from the gold-feathered griff that was still holding on tightly, but hardly crying anymore.
Gabriella gently poked her husband’s neck with her beak to get his attention. She smiled and titled her head slightly, gesturing towards their son. The Silent Duke looked down, blinking with both his healthy and his scarred eye; only to have his thoughtful gaze interrupted by Grover looking back up at him with a slightly confused expression.
“Is this okay?” The emperor asked; looking a little worried.
“Yes, it’s… It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
The duchess drew away slightly and nodded slowly as her husband turned his head, silently asking if he should go ahead with whatever it was that he was going to say. Of course she would nod. She knew what it was that he wanted to get out of his beak, after all.
“Grover, I…” The griff began, looking down at his son, “This isn’t the solution to the problems you’ve come here with, I know you’re stressed and… Probably a lot of other things too; we left you in charge of an entire empire after all… But I think this will be a good start, for both of us.”
His Majesty looked up and pulled away from the embrace just slightly so that he could get a better view of his uncle’s face. He’d never seen his stoic demeanour completely fall apart like this, which was almost as terrifying as it was endearing and reassuring. What was he trying to get at?
“When I was young, I didn’t spend much time with my father. It was simply the way of things, with how chaotic the empire could be and with the social norms for nobility at the time we just… Our relationship was cold, at the best of times; let’s say that. I grew up with a father figure I was distant from, one I hardly felt that I knew; I spent most of my family time with my mother, when she wasn’t dealing with finances.” He continued, seeing the blue eyes of his son begin to dampen.
The poor thing was as scared of this as he was, even though they both wanted to hear this. He had wasted so much time, tainted so many memories of the boy’s past all because he had been so reluctant just to tell the truth. Gerlach wasn’t going to stop talking now.
“My point is that… My father was wrong, to let me grow up distant. He was wrong to never tell me how much he cared, only letting others tell me that he did. I’m not going to make the same mistake he did,” He stopped for a second and waited for the young griffon to wipe his eyes with the now well-used handkerchief, “You are my son Grover. I’m… Sorry that I was too frightened to say it to you before. I’m sorry that you’ve lived for so long needing to hear those words. I’m… I’m proud of you son; I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
-Fin-
