"Those of us Ascended have chosen a throne only to be able to serve you, our people, better." The First Ascended Damien Moreno

Pain. His head throbbed. Aidric let out a groan, feeling the soft fabric of the gauze gently graze the underside of his bicep, offering a soothing contrast to the searing pain in his back that felt as if he’d received a deep tissue massage with a branding iron. Every breath felt like it would tear away the yellow and red stained bandages that had adhered to his wounds.

A stiff pillow rested against his backside, an attempt from Dr. Tillmane to keep him propped on his side and not roll over in his sleep, no doubt. The shutters couldn't keep out the intense, orange sunlight that filtered into the room, making it hard to tell if the sun was setting or rising, and how long he’d been out for. Regardless, all Aidric desired was to return to the comforting embrace of sleep. No luck, however, as two wooden mugs clanged on the kitchen table, unbearably loud in their poorly insulated home.

“Are you sure we won't wake him?” Ada's voice sounded more centered than before, yet still tinged with worry.

“Breath, Adaline. I gave him enough sedatives to sleep through the rest of the day.” Dr. Tillmane said. Aidric scoffed and winced. Either the old man got the dosage wrong, or he needed stronger drugs. “He's going to have a lot of scarring, but at the moment, I'm more concerned about infection. I will stop by three times a day to replace his bandages and administer an antiseptic ointment.” The faint sound of his mother’s gentle sobs tore into Aidric’s already aching chest. “Adaline, I know this is a lot, but I need you to listen. If at any point he starts running a fever or the wounds start to smell off, I need you to come get me right away.” Sniffles and shaky breaths filled the house as Ada tried to compose herself. 

“I understand.” Ada said, a slight chuckle breaking from her lips. “You do remember you showed me how to take care of my wounds in the Rangers, right?” There was a moment of silence before Dr. Tillmane spoke again, his voice taking on a soothing tone.

“Believe me, I know. I only showed you so I could get you to stay out of my medical tent.” Aidric put the pieces together, wincing from a shock running down the middle of his back. So that's why his mother was so protective of Dr. Tillmane. “I'm aware you know what to do, but sometimes we need to hear an outside voice to make sure the inner one stays in line.”

Another sniffle rung out. “Thank you, Jacque.” Aidric’s teeth clenched together, stifling out a grunt as a wave of searing pain radiated from the middle of his back. Agony, lasting for what felt like hours, ebbed away, leaving him in a cold sweat, and making the bandages wrapping his head and torso now uncomfortably damp. Nothing could ever be simple, could it? He couldn’t just fall back asleep, pretend this was all a nightmare.

Aidric’s heart jumped when the front door opened. Chair legs screeched across the wooden floor, followed by heavy footsteps as they carved a war path towards whoever had entered the house. Aidric’s blood turned cold when a slap rang out loud enough to make him think someone had broken out another whip.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” His mother spat with a venom he’d never knew she was capable of. A disapproving huff came from Ada as she continued. “Of course you’re drunk.”

“Jacque, you under-” The doctor cut Neal’s sentence short.

“You will not convince me you’re in the right, Neal.” Jacque said, as another chair scrapped across the floor. “I knew when I found you standing in that field in Camden that you’d lost a piece of your mind, but I never thought you’d left your entire brain behind.”

“I have order to uphold here.” Neal slurred his words, fumbling over them like the drink limit imposed on reserve Infantry members.

“You have a son who already had one foot in the grave before you beat him half to death!” Jacque said, with the sound of a high-ranking official scolding a subordinate. Jacque Tillmane cleared his throat, and composed himself from his outburst, yet the edge in his voice still remained. “Did you see his wounds? I did, and I promise you, they’re much worse when you get the blood cleaned up. You whipped him to the bone, Neal. There’s a three-inch patch in the middle of his back that has no Gods-dammed skin.” The agony that flared again in Aidric’s back made much more sense. Nerves were firing, desperately trying to reconnect to flesh that wasn’t there. Aidric stitched his eyes closed, again asking the Gods why they didn’t just let him die already.

“You can patch him up though, right, Doc? Just like you got us running again in Camden.” Neal said as he leaned back against the wall in an attempt to keep himself upright.

“You’ll be lucky if that ever heals. Heals correctly? That’ll be a miracle.” Clinking bottles and rustling herbs made their way to the front door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do. So do you.” The door swung open and eased shut as Jacque departed.

Aidric rolled the conversation around in his head, an attempt to keep itself occupied on anything but the pain. Camden? A providence that bordered their own to the south. Yet he’d never heard either of his parents talk about it outside of his mother’s geography and history lessons. There had been a war between both of the nations, but that was over a thousand years ago, and the two had unified three-hundred years after that, so why were the three of them there? Aidric’s mind whirred to connect the dots and blot out the pain. It had apparently been working, as the door to his room swung open before he’d even realized someone was coming upstairs. 

 Ada threw her hands over her mouth, eyes watering at the sight before her.

“Ady, you’re awake?” She rushed to the side of the bed and clasped her son’s clammy fingers between her warm, trembling hands. “Why didn’t you say anything? Dr. Tillmane could have given you more medicine.” Despite the comforting presence of his mother, Aidric's heart pounded with fear as he saw his father's shadow looming in the doorway. Aidric didn’t want to be afraid of him. Neal was his father, and he loved him, but the anxiety coursing through his veins made it impossible to ignore his primal need to escape from an apex predator.

The tremble running through Aidric’s shoulders wasn’t lost on the woman kneeling next to the bed. Ada's brow creased, forming deep lines on her forehead as she directed her intense gaze towards her spouse. Outside the room, Neal leaned against the door frame, his back turned away from both of them. His swaying figure emitted a strong, pungent smell of alcohol that filled the entire room. Aidric could feel the animosity that seemed to seep from every pore his mother had, unsure as to how his father could remain so calm when someone stared daggers at him.

“Look at him.” It was not just a request, but an explicit order.

“I was giving a thief what they deserved.” Neal said.

“I said, look at your son.” There was only one way he was getting out of this. Neal gradually moved away from the doorframe, turning on his heel to face the two. Aidric's heart beat loudly, filled with anticipation, as he longed for his father to display even a glimmer of sympathy or compassion towards him. The only thing conveyed by the scowl on Neal's face was a state of internal conflict.

Neal entered the room without uttering a word, swiftly picking up the metal mirror and placing it in front of Aidric. Wow, he knew he must have looked awful, but this was a whole new level. His forehead was adorned with a white bandage, tinged with a hint of red as it curved from his hairline towards his left eyebrow. The white wrap, tightly bound in a knot on the side of his torso, stood out against the crimson hue of his blood-stained eyes and the heavy, dark bags beneath them.

“This is what happens to thieves. You made a stupid fucking decision, now live with your stupid fucking consequences.” Before either Ada or Aidric could get a word out, Neal was gone. Unsteady footsteps reverberated through the staircase and then faded away as they exited the house. Their home fell into silence. Not even the crickets dared to chirp outside the windows. One of Ada’s calloused hands caressed her son’s palm, while the other wiped the tears from her eyes, as she pondered how long she would have to take the reins of their home for this time. 

“Your father’s a… complicated man. He loves you very much, but his loyalty to the Magus is absolute.” A pause followed as she searched for the right words. “Your dad didn't get to see as much of the world in the Infantry as Dr. Tillmane and I did in the Ranger Corp.”

Aidric winced and couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the ‘love’ his father had shown him with the whip. Aidric's throat felt as dry as sandpaper, and every movement sent waves of agony through his body. Yet, the act of talking and thinking offered a temporary respite.

“He’s never been a questions kind of guy.” Aidric said. She let out a forced chuckle, though her eyes revealed a true lack of amusement.

“No, he hasn’t.” She felt Aidric's grip on her hand weaken, his arm suddenly feeling as heavy as a sack of bricks. Gods, he was so tired. One last burning question popped into his mind, however.

“He didn’t take the grain, did he?” With a gentle touch, his mother smiled as she played with the curls of his hair, savoring the softness as she rolled them between her fingers.

“Nope, Claire is working overtime in the bakery to make sure none of it goes to waste.” Aidric let out a sigh of relief. Good, then it was all for something, at least. As the harsh sunlight faded, darkness gradually crept through the room, providing a much-needed rest for his weary eyes. His eyelids grew heavy, and he did not fight their beckoning to a more peaceful place.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.” Ada placed a gentle kiss on Aidric’s cheek before rising to her feet. Words tumble from Aidric’s mouth that resembled something close to ‘thank you’, before the sleep he’d been begging for finally came to claim him. However, the sleep he was able to get would be anything but peaceful.