The first thing Argus felt as he woke up was pain. It felt like someone had replaced parts of him with chunks of burning metal. His nose in particular, it was a solid block of fire.

He whimpered, opening tears-filled eyes on a bare, white ceiling.

He laid where he was, struggling to withstand the pain. Thankfully, it lessened soon after, and he let go of the air he was holding, breathing once again with thankful relief.

His thoughts ran sluggish and his head felt light, so for some time he just remained there, dazedly happy for the relieving from the pain.

He wondered where he was, but was too tired and beaten to be alarmed.

With effort, he remembered what had happened.

He remembered… stonemen, those spooky silent things, walking him out of his room and then pushing him into a shadowy corridor. There had been a door opening, and a big room after. He remembered a large space, with lots of stonemen standing by. He had been intimiditated, took in the scents and then… nothing. His memories went black right after.

He frowned. Not suggestions, not vague images, like those he still held of his previous life. Nothing. Just blackness. The following moment was just him awakening there.

The lack of memory put him at unease. With full waking, tiredness slipped away, replaced by sharp alert.

He watched himself. Even the little movement of raising his neck sent jolts through all of his body, and the sight he saw didn’t help to reassure him.

Ouch.

He slowly dropped back down, imposing to himself to be calm. Alright, he wasn’t very good, but he felt a bed under him, and all of his wounds seemed to have been treated. It had to mean for something. Also, he had to remember that Father always watched over him.

That last thought more than anything helped him to reassure himself.

He closed his eyes, and for some time just focused on his breathing, trying to rest. Still, dizziness was gone, and he felt too alert for going back to sleep. So, instead, he raised his head a tiny bit, and started to look around.

He found the room to be quite strange. It was on the small side, with the large fireplace embedded in a wall and the rugs on the floor giving it a touch of coziness. Still, the impression was ruined by the tiles making up the floor and the white paint of the walls, askew and strangely colored the first and unfinished the latter, with pieces of bare wall showing there and then.

The forniture showed the same strangeness. A couple of shelves that looked made with beautiful, shiny wood, were crooked and crammed with outlandish-looking books of which only a few looked really usable. A stout iron cabinet stood sentinel beside the fireplace, looking like it had just taken out from military barracks. On the other side, a graceful wooden cabinet made for its perfect counterpart, showing delicate carvings of woods and animals.

Half grim, naked steel and half a pleasant golden hue, a twisted chandelier dangled from the ceiling, a veritable army of candles shining from a moltitude of sconces.

On a table across his bed, vicious-looking tools stood allineated with pots and what looked to be haphazardly made toys. Just beside of it, a sturdy chair was crammed with a big pile of rags. Bottles piled at its feet.

A tall clock surveilled the room from his position against the wall, the front glass smashed inwards and the gears scattered on the floor. And the strange list just kept going.

Argus needed a couple of moments to take in all the details of tha strange place. For some reasons, he was reminded of his more hastily assembled constructions, those that he finished quickly when the door of his room opened, hoping that it was Father that came and hoping to impress him.

Instinctively, he tried to take in the scent of the place, just to realize that his poor nose was out of commission.

Forgetting his questions, he tried to raise himself further, so that he could get a better view. His neck and back protested loudly the strain, sharp pain stabbing through him. With a whimper, he crumpled back down. Out of istinct, he made to move his arms, but those were too heavily bandaged to be of any use, and the sharp movement had pain lash at him like an angry dog. He squeaked in distress.

A voice slurred something.

Blinking tear-filled eyes, Argus thought to have imagined it. Then, he heard a rustling sound.

Trying not to hurt himself more, he raised his head, curiosity overriding pain. The pile of rags, or at least what he had taken for a pile of rags, was shifting. After a moment, Gorren emerged from it, blinking and grimacing.

“F-father.” Argus murmured, slumping down.

Amidst the pain, he heard a sharp gasp, followed by rustling, the tinkle of glass and then quick steps.

A bony hand appeared in his vision, pushing a cup against his lips.

“Drink.” Gorren’s voice commanded.

Argus obeyed, and a cold liquid invaded his mouth and then his throat. He spluttered before managing to swallow. It hurt, a lot, it felt like someone was trying to wrench him open from the inside. Still, the liquid steadily went down, tracing a cool path through him and then nestling into his stomach.

After he had drained the last drop, the cup was drawn back, and he slumped down, gasping.

The coolness seemed to seep deeply inside of him. It spread, and as it did, the pain was steadily replaced by a wonderful numbness.

Argus wheezed as the sensation spread. The pain didn’t disappear, not completely, but it became manageable, a dull thrum at the edge of his perceptions. He sighed, feeling more relieved than ever in his life.

Turning, he met Father‘s gaze. There was concern there, a lot of it, and seeing it both filled him with happiness and dread. He really didn’t want to be the one to give Father so much concern! Not like he wasn’t happy about it, but…

“How do you feel?” Gorren asked, cutting through his thoughts.

“G-good.” Argus blurted out, and then started coughing.

Gorren said nothing, just waiting for him to settle down once again.

When he did, the coughing had sapped what little strenght he had, and he had to lie down.

“M-maybe not.” He admitted, his voice little more than a whisper. Speaking hurt.

Gorren gave him some more of the cold liquid, something that he accepted with dazed relief.

Silence fell after that. Argus timidly observed Gorren trafficking with the stuff over the table. His heart beat fast as he watched every gesture with the utmost attention, while trying to remain unseen and unnoticed.

Even breathing felt almost like he was shouting at the top of his lungs. He felt the need to start fidgeting, but immobilized as he was, it wasn’t really a possibility; and he wouldn’t dare anyway, fearing to break that moment.

Truth was, he couldn’t believe to be in the same room with Father. He desperately wanted to say something, anything at all, and at the same time just disappear under the blankets.

Father was… well, he was amazing, simple as that. He was big and strong and smart and knew everything and everybody always did what he said and he was always right about everything and…

The sound of the mattress shifting yanked him back from his thoughts, making him realize that he had been moving in his rising excitation. He froze, frantically hoping not to have disturbed Father from whatever important thing he was doing.

Seeing to see that not to be the case, he let out a mental sigh of relief.

He glanced at Gorren’s stooped figure. Father was amazing, simple as that. And now he was there, with him!

He wished he had his drawings and constructions close by, so that Father could see them. He had smiled when he had showed him his drawing, and was impressed with the things he had built. The memory alone was enough to fill his chest with pride. Ah, if only he could show him the others!

He thought that maybe he could have told him so, but hesitation stopped him. What if Father didn’t want to see them? Worse, what if Father said that they weren’t good? He would be so ashamed… but still, just to show them to him? He… he wanted to show him that he had worked hard, just like him!, that… that he was using well the life he had given him…

“You seem nervous.”

Argus was yanked back from his train of thoughts with a sharp breath. Gorren was watching him, a bowl in his hand.

“Yes, i… ehm… yes… i, ehm…” He fumbled, frantically seeking for a place to look at. Gorren’s expression was even, but he imagined, no, he was sure of it, to see something that could very well be reproach in it.

His anxiety jumped from ten straight to one hundred. What a fool he was! He had to pay attention!

His shame only increased as he struggled for words. Eventually, he just clamped shut his mouth, feeling like his cheeks were taking fire.

“Hey now.” Gorren grumbled. He looked a bit surprised. “Calm down, will you?”

Argus nodded stiffly, feeling shame burn in the pit of the stomach. What a nice introduction he had given of himself. Just the right way to start talking with Father.

“Hey hey.” Gorren said, noticing his distress. For a moment, he hesitated, looking unsure of what to do. Then, his expression set, and he sat on the bed, setting the bowl on his lap.

Argus held his gaze down, burning with shame and refusing to meet Father’s own.

“It’s a long time that i haven’t come to visit you.” Gorren began.

“Not so long.” Argus mumbled, still refusing to look at him.

Gorren said nothing to that. “I know that you have been busy.”

Argus perked up his ears at hearing that. His heart picked up. Had Father known what he had been up to? No, that was stupid. Father knew everything. More importantly, what did he think about it?

He glanced at him, apprehension warring with eagerness.

“I… yes… i have been doing things…” He didn’t manage to say more. The words seemed to refuse to come out.

“Mmh.” Gorren hummed, busy mixing the contents of the bowl with a spoon.

Heart beating fast, Argus waited for something more, but it soon became evident that there wouldn’t be.

Delusion filled his mouth like a bad taste, and he couldn’t stop his ears from slumping down.

He saw Father’s even expression being traversed by something, a flash of what could have been chagrin, but it was gone so fast that he wondered if he hadn’t just imagined it. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe Father was disappointed with him, just like he was sure he was before he had given him his drawing.

You’re a stupid rat. You didn’t work good enough.

He felt his eyes start to sting.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Gorren watched him, thoughtful.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

Grudgingly letting go of his self-reproach, Argus tried to muster a decent answer. How did he feel? Well, he felt stiff everywhere and he wasn’t sure he could move more than his fingers. Pain hovered just out of sight, a thrumming just waiting for him to make a mistake to pounce. There was nausea swirling in the pit of his stomach, his throat ached something fierce, his head felt light and his arms and nape tingled hard.

All in all, he felt horrible, the most horrible than ever before.

“Good, i guess.” It’s what he rasped instead. He really didn’t want to burden Father with his problems. He wanted to show himself strong.

Father’s skeptical expression told him that he wasn’t fooled. Of course he wasn’t. He was Father, after all.

“Stay still.” He ordered.

Argus obeyed right away, trying to remain as immoble as possible while Father put a hand over his head.

Father’s hand felt large and strong, and he felt a surge of admiration and affection. He peeked at his focused expression, trying and failing to imagine what incredible things he was doing.

After a moment, Father drew back his hand, leaving him feeling a bit dejected.

“Yeah, no. You’re sick as a dog.” He grumbled. “You’re not going to leave this bed anytime soon…” The last part of his words faded away into a whisper, and Argus had to strain his ears to hear them.

Gorren looked thoughtful, before shaking himself up.

“Here. Eat this.” He said. As he brought the bowl up, Argus saw that it was full with a white, lumpy substance. He tried to smell it, before realizing that he couldn’t.

Gorren offered him a spoonful, and Argus shifted, unsure of what to do. It didn’t feel right for Father to feed him like that. He could…

“Eat.”

Gorren’s firm tone almost made him jump, and he hurried to obey.

The slop tasted… bland, he guessed. Felt like eating a piece of wall, or, well, he imagined that it would have felt like that. Never eaten walls.

Swallowing hurt, and he had to struggle to keep it down, his stomach rebelling.

“Here, drink.” Gorren offered him a pot full with a crystal clear liquid.

Wheezing, Argus choked a bit as the liquid ran down his windpipe. For a moment he was sure he was going to throw up everything, and to make even more of a mess of himself before father. To his great relief, his stomach settled after some moments.

He hiccupped, blushed hard, and then some more when he realized he couldn’t cover his mouth.

If he was bothered, Gorren showed nothing of it.

“Better?”

Argus had to swallow several times before managing to gather enough breath to reply.

“Y-yes…”

Gorren harrumphed. “I am going to take that as a no, then.”

Argus lowered his gaze, feeling his face get even warmer if that was possible. Father really knew even his own thoughts. He was divided between admiration and shame for himself.

Silence fell, each of two immersed in their thoughts.

Argus struggled for something to say, to erase the foolishness he had showed until then, but his brain seemed to have decided to go blank. Even then, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t just going to show himself even more of a fool.

Thankfully, Gorren lifted him from his quandaries.

“You learned to speak.” He said.

Argus needed a moment to process the words, and when he did, he nodded so fast that he hurt his neck, and started to stammer.

“I… i have, but it’s nothing… i c-can do better… a-and…”

Gorren held up a hand, and he clamped his mouth shut.

The old mage watched him with the hint of a smile.

“You’ve done great progress.” He said. “Good job.”

Argus felt a knot form in his throat, pride and shyness and happiness welling all at once. It tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he found himself smiling brightly.

“Yes!” He said, just to catch himself a moment after. He really didn’t want to show himself arrogant.

Gorren watched him fumble for an explanation in silence, that shadow of a smile still on his face.

“You called me Father.” He said after a while.

Argus widened his eyes. His previous happiness was blown away by alarm. Had he heard him? He hadn’t… he didn’t mean to…

He fumbled for words that would explain that he never meant to show disrespect. He knew he wasn’t worthy of calling Gorren Father. The mage was so great and strong and smart, and he, well, he was just a stupid little mouse. He knew that, for real! He just thought that title was right for him, like, Gorren was the reason why he had that new life, he owed him so much. But he never meant to be called son, just to call him Father. If he did, it was just out of the greatest respect!

“I-i am sorry!” He stammered. “I-i don‘t.. i d-didn‘t…”

A hand gently landed over his head, cutting him off.

“It’s okay.” Gorren said, smile becoming full. There was kindness in his eyes, something that Argus had never seen. “It’s just how it is.” He said. “I am your father. And you are my son. That’s how it is.”

He remained like that for a moment, his eyes impressing upon Argus the importance of what he meant. Then, and only then, he drew back his hand.

“Some more?” He asked, taking back the spoon.

Wide-eyed, Argus watched him, then the spoon, then him again. He felt the imprint left by Gorren’s hand like if someone had branded him with it. Something melted inside of his chest, and he smiled, full and bright.

“Yes! Thanks!” He said.

Gorren smiled back, a bit grumpy now, and started to feed him once again.

As he ate, Argus felt his stomach flutter, but there was no nausea. It was like someone had sent light streaming inside of him. All doubts and fears just melted away, and a beautiful feeling remained, one that he had no name for. It was the feeling of being accepted, being welcomed. He knew, no, he was sure that he would remember it always, and always cherish it.

Because his father had called him son. And that was everything he needed.

They remained like that for some time, neither talking, both just happy for the company of each other.

Eventually, a new sound broke the moment, a short whimper. Gorren and Argus turned, frowning the first, curious the latter.

The fire-child was stirring.