Sons and Heirs chapter 2: On Parents

Millions of tiny points of pain, like individual bug bites all over his wrist, were clouding Borden’s mind still when he pulled the piece of leather out of his mouth.  He dropped it to the floor and sagged back against the chair as someone started to apply healing cream to the fresh brand on his wrist.



Through his almost closed eyes, he saw his father step into view and lean down to pick the old belt up off the ground for examination.  “How do you feel?” he asked, and Borden looked up to meet his eyes.



“Fine,” he said after a moment.  He took a deep breath and tried to focus his mind as best he could.  “I’ll live.”  Whoever had been rubbing the healing cream on his wrist must have been done, because his father took his right hand and examined it, as well.  His face was stony, giving away nothing, but Borden knew he didn’t like that this had happened.  Steven Prestise didn’t like the fact that his only son was now branded, his skin the only thing distinguishing him from a common slave.



“Make sure you keep using that hand.  If you baby it, your hand will go stiff, become useless.  That’s why we always do the right hands.”  Steven Prestise offered his hand, and Borden took it, using it to pull himself out of the chair.  He felt wobbly on his feet… and then he reminded himself that nothing had happened to his legs, only to his hand.  He deliberately steadied himself, and felt a little better. He was strong; he could handle this.



He looked over at his father, who was now looking away passively, no doubt lost in his own thoughts.  The thought struck him not for the first time that looking at his father was like looking in a mirror, only with the reflection twenty years older; the same had probably occurred to his father, only the older man would be looking at a reflection twenty years younger… and with his wife’s deep blue eyes.  Perhaps Steven didn’t like to see his son branded because it was too much like being branded himself.



“When are you leaving?” his father asked as they made their way slowly toward the room Borden always stayed in when he visited.  They lived in the same city, but Borden lived in the castle, in his own small apartments, and usually had little time to do anything other than what Luca wanted of him.



“In the morning.  For Terithia.”  His father nodded, and Borden could see him piecing everything together.  Still technically a soldier, Borden wasn’t actually allowed to share any information with anyone else, even the Governor, his father.  But Steven Prestise was a smart man… smart enough to figure out what this was all about for himself.



“To see your mother?”  He stopped in front of his son’s room, turning to look at him.  Borden nodded, smiling ever so slightly.



“Would you like to accompany me?”  His father returned the look with one of his own.



“As much as I’d love the opportunity to see your mother again, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.  Busy with, you know…. running the city.”  Divorce wasn’t technically legal, but his parents were about as close to divorced as anyone could get.  They lived in different cities and didn’t see or think of each other but perhaps once a year, when they, as a ‘married couple’ were required to attend certain events together.  So far, Borden had managed to be absent from all such events, but he could only imagine his parents having to deal with each other civilly for a full evening.  It must have been hard for them.



“I’ll tell her you say 'hi’.”  That evoked a full smile from the Governor, and he shook his head.



“Tell her what you want.  Tell her I miss her, if you think it’ll give her a laugh.”



*****



Two days later, the long halls of his mother’s house echoed hollowly with the falls of Borden’s boots, a sound he made audible only for the benefit of her slaves.  He knew it unnerved them when he moved silently through their house, and he rather liked Gabrielle’s slaves.  He’d known some of them all his life, and he knew that at least one or two of them liked him back.  The rest did all they could to stay away from him, but even that was a sort of relief- Borden Prestise was a solitary person by nature, a trait he had inherited from both parents.



It was the hour after Stillness, and he knew his mother would be awake.  She always was.  He was also fairly certain that she’d be expecting him- the Priestess of a city was always aware when another noble was visiting, especially when that visitor was her own son.



He found the door to his mother’s study open, and the Priestess herself standing at her east-facing window, her hands clasped behind her back.  She was a tall and pale, slender woman, graceful, elegant, and strong… everything a noble woman should be.  Her height and her bright blue eyes were the only physical traits she and her only son shared.  Everything else- from his black hair to his deeply tanned skin- spoke of his father’s southern, and therefore ‘higher’, descent.



Borden stopped halfway across her room and looked down, head bent in the slightest of bows.  “Mother,” he said softly, “I pray the Stillness has been kind to thee?”  It was the customary greeting of her people at such an early hour.



“My son,” she responded as she turned to look at him, the rising sun at her back making her golden blonde hair glow.  “It was not.”  He looked up, dismay on his face, and she met it with a smile.  “The spirits spoke to me of your purpose for coming here, and I was tempted to tears.”  She turned halfway, so she was looking out at the sun again.  “But I found I had no tears left to cry for thee.”



Borden went to her, taking one of her hands in both of his. “You make it sound as if you’ve spent too many tears on me already, mother.  What have I done to cause you such grief?”  He knew the answer already, and it stung him.  She shook her head.



“I’ve cried a mother’s tears for you, my son, but I’ve also cried the tears of a Priestess of our people for you.  That you, my son, the fruit of my womb, would ever forget so blatantly the teachings of your childhood…” He opened his mouth to respond, but she held a hand up to silence him.  “What were you doing an hour ago?”



“I was sitting, mother.  By my fire.  Nothing else.  An hour ago was the Stillness, and I honor that.”



“You honor the stillness, yet you do not honor the Spirits?  Can you not hear their cries?  Do you not see them weeping as you sit immobile during the Stillness?  Or do you simply not care for their grief, which they so eagerly shared with me today in hopes that I would persuade you to decline your newest assignment?”  Gabrielle pulled her hand away and turned toward the window fully.  “If you do not hear, then I have a chance at succeeding; if you do not care, my cause is already lost.”



He didn’t respond, looking down.  He loved his mother… but he preferred the company of his father.  His father never made him feel guilty about his religion, or about his position… or about anything.



Then again, his father hadn’t been born out of the race of people who were now slaves to another.



“Your silence means either you have no defense for yourself, or you do not care for my accusations.”  Borden sighed.



“Mother, you know what lies ahead of me.  I have long been absent from your company.  I pray only that you accept what your son has chosen and set it aside, and let me have this time with you.  It may yet be… months,” he amended ‘years' to ‘months' at the last minute, “before we meet again, and I would not have my last memory of you, were some ill thing to befall either of us, be of you angry and bitter toward me.”



She stood at the window for a long time, saying and doing nothing, before she finally turned and offered her son a smile, though one laced with sorrow.



“I cannot deny the one I love more than myself what he wants.  So be it.  We will spend the day merrily in each other’s company, and then you will leave after the next Stillness and get on with your… mission.”



“Thank you.  By the way, Father says hi.”



She smiled and started toward him, then paused.  “But let me warn you of one thing first, my son: you will not come out of this job of yours unchanged, and I cannot yet see if it is for the better or for the worse.  Keep care of your heart, and watch well your spirit, my son.”