"Who is it?" he questioned as another knock came. Standing, he walked to the large cedar door slowly. As he placed his hand on the intricate knob he could hear heavy footsteps retreating quickly down the hallway. With a sigh, he went back to his spot on the floor and let his books consume him.

                                                                               ~~~

As the sun set, Alaric moved to open his curtains. Opening the door to his balcony he cast his gaze to the evening sky. A clear night, he thought as he continued to watch the stars. Just like his books he thought of distant lands and worlds on each of the twinkling dots in the sky. A light knock at the door brought him back from the world of stars. Stepping over his books he knew just who would be at the door. 

           "Young Master, I've brought you tonights dinner. Would you like me to leave it here?" inquired the old voice behind the door. He asked the same question every night and Alaric's response was always the same. "Caellon, please leave it at the door." Waiting for the sound of clattering plates and retreating footsteps, Alaric slowly opened the door and slid the tray into his room.

        Finishing the roasted vegetables and chicken, Alaric put his ear to the door and listened. With no one walking by he placed the tray outside the door. Alaric made his way to his bed and began once again to think about his Father. He was a busy man as he had a manor to run and a town to govern. All this really meant was less time spent with his son. Every scenario Alaric thought of was the same; Alaric would leave his room and knock on the massive doors to his Father's study. Upon hearing the knock his Father would ask him to enter and they would spend that time talking about the books Alaric was currently reading or what his Father had accomplished that day. Caellon would bring them some snacks with tea. His Father would then accompany him to dinner where they would finish their many conversations. Unfortunately, Alaric knew these thoughts would never come to pass. Alaric's Mother had passed when he was at quite a young age, leaving him and a Father who is reminded of her everytime he looks into Alaric's curious green eyes. Over the years, he had heard staff whisper that his eyes were just the same as his late Mother. It pained Alaric to no end not being able to see the Father he loved, but he has no control over this. With a sigh Alaric laid his head on a pillow and drifted off to sleep.

          The sound of shattering glass rips Alaric from his dreams. Sitting upright, he quickly moved to the door to see what caused the commotion when suddenly a voice boomed, "Find him!" Backing away from the door Alaric ran to hide under his bed. His breathing quickened as the heavy footsteps came closer and closer to his door. The door is thrown open as four men storm inside. The men began throwing his things to the floor; opening and closing drawers and worst of all, ripping apart all of his books. "The boy is not here, Kirt," said a short man with a crooked nose, "He must be somewhere else in this damned manor!" Kirt was taller than the other men; he wasn't old, but he wasn't young either. Angered by the sitution he spun to face the short man with a sneer on his lips, "Well, he must be somewhere! Search every room, if you don't find him burn the rooms. He'll find his way to us!" Kirt yelled out his order and just as quickly as they came, they left the room leaving Kirt. Looking around once more Kirt threw his torch, igniting the torn books in the room. Only then did Alaric see the man's face, piercing blue eyes that held no fear, a beard that was just as red as the fire he started and a single scar that ran across his left cheek. Slamming the door shut he left the sobbing Alaric to the fire. This is the end, he thought, his dreams would never come to pass. He would never be able to tell his Father how he felt and how he wished they spent more time together. 

          The fire quickly engulfed the room; Alaric stifled his sobs as he pulled himself from underneath his bed. Smoke filled his lungs causing him to cough as he looked for a way out. Through teary eyes he found one of his books had not yet been consumed by the flames: The Dragons of Camelot. Gripping it tight he made his way to the balcony. Alaric knew he needed to get down, but he was frozen with fear. Looking back to his room he watched as the flames grew bigger and bigger. Gathering the courage, he climbed over the railing onto the ledge of the roof. Without looking down he slowly edged himself closer to the other balcony. As Alaric climbed over the railing, the door burst open as the flames hungrily ate the curtains. He began coughing as smoke bellowed out of the room. Alaric knew time was short, but the broken glass blocked his path to the other side. Alaric tried to jump over the glass, but landed on a small piece cutting his foot. Crying out he dropped his book from his hands and watched it slide to the edge of the balcony. Tears fell as Alaric clutched his foot in pain. Looking at his foot, he very slowly pulled the piece of glass out. Blood oozed slowly from the gash now on his foot. Alaric ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it as tight as he could around his foot. Standing slowly, he limped to the ledge, picked up his book and began to climb over the railing to the next balcony. Once on the other balcony he looked inside the room and froze, this room had not been touched by the fire or anyone for a very long time. He knew immediadtely who's room he was limping into. It was the room that was alwys shut. The room he was scolded for trying to enter it. His Mother's room.

          Dust covered everything in sight, from the mattress to the small stool that sat diagonal to the vanity. The room smelled like a mixture of firewood and lilacs. Being in that room felt like another world; time went in reverse as he remembered the last time he had come to this room. Two years after his Mother passed, while playing he scraped his knee and was inconsolable. Wandering the halls crying he made his way to his Mother's room. As he opened the door and smeeled the familiar scent of lilacs the door was slammed shut and he was yanked away. It was the first time he had seen his Father so angry. His hazel eyes darkened and his lips were set in a thin line, "You are not to enter this room again, do you understand?" his voice thick as he spoke. Alaric could do nothing but nod, it was the first time his Father had spoken to him since his Mother's passing. His Father cleared his throat and simply walked away leaving Alaric alone in the hallway. Since that day, his Father had only spoken to him when necessary. Suddenly, the smell of burning grew more intense as the fire continued to rage on. Giving one last glance around hos Mother's room, Alaric made his way to  the door.