Rassa had decided he hated the daytime. It was obnoxiously loud, and bright. So bright. It pierced through his vision and made his head ache so bad that he had to ask his mother to cover the windows. After that the Doctor spent a lot of time looking at his eyes with concern. That was also irritating.

The hunger hadn't gone away. In fact, he felt worse than yesterday, and unfortunately his parents were beginning to notice. Where he had been active and hungry enough to eat three bowls of soup last night, during the day he refused any food in large amounts. He usually took a mouthful or two, and then turned away in disappointment.

"You should eat more, Rassa, you won't get better like this," Anna insisted.

Only under his mother's worried gaze did Rassa force himself to finish a bowl of food. After she left, Rassa turned to look at his father, the only other individual in the room with him. Phillip was looking at him with concern, and for once, Rassa didn't know how to respond.

Rassa had always been close with his father, before when his father had shown concern, Rassa had been quick to reassure him, but now…they both knew that something was different this time. Phillip had no doubt ascertained that Rassa's continued silence meant something was wrong, and he was weighing his options about what to do about it. As much as Rassa knew that Phillip wouldn't be able to help in this situation, Rassa still hoped he'd step forward. He still hoped that his father would pull him close and talk through the problems with him. Even if he could no longer feel the warmth or the strength of his love.

Rassa had always known that his father was more than the farmer everyone saw. He was pretty sure everyone knew that this was not the life Phillip was born into, but no one had ever spoken about it, not even Phillip. Now, seeing the look in his father's eyes, Rassa couldn't help but feel conflicted. Of course he wanted the warmth, the reassurance…but his father knew something, something that Rassa wasn't sure would help him or not.

"I'm okay, really," Rassa insisted, though it was too late to be of any use in reassuring his father. And as expected, Phillip called Rassa's bluff.

"No you're not Rassa. You're a smart kid, trying to hide your pain so that no one will worry for you. But I hate to break it to you, it's only making your mother and I worry more".

Rassa turned away, hugging his knees to his chest as he looked at the blanket that covered the window. Just because his parents knew something was wrong, didn't mean he could tell them, or that they could help if he did.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" asked his father.

Phillip had always been good at sensing when something was wrong with Rassa. The boy wore his emotions plainly, and even if he could hide them from his mother at times, he couldn't hide from Phillip. Phillip knew his son was a spitting image of him, eager for knowledge and always willing to do hard work. Phillip had even managed to teach Rassa how to read like he had once taught Anna. Rassa had soaked in the knowledge like a sponge, but Phillip had instructed him not to brag to the other kids, as he knew that there were very few adults in the village who were literate, let alone children. And now, despite his best wishes, he could see his son turning away from him. Rassa knew something, and he was keeping it hidden.

"Rassa," Phillip sighed, "I can't help if you don't tell me. You know exactly what happened to you, don't you? You know but you're not saying. Why is that?"

Rassa looked up at his father, his eyes pleading him to stop. To not ask questions. Phillip had never seen that look in his son's eyes before. And underneath all of that pleading, Phillip could see the fear. He saw the terror, and he hated the fact that his son had to experience that.

Phillip stood and approached his son, pulling him into a hug, "This is not something you have to go through alone, Rassa. Please, all you need to do, is ask".

Rassa buried his head in his father's chest, trying his best to ignore the amazing scent and rhythmic beating that lay just beneath his father's skin. He instead focused on the warmth he couldn't feel and the strength with which he was held, almost insignificant now. But the feeling, the emotions, they were still present. Phillip was completely unaware of his son's dilemma, and was instead concentrating on comforting Rassa, something he had rarely had to do.

"The mark on my back," Rassa spoke softly, and he felt his father tense, "What is it?"

Phillip sighed, "I hoped you wouldn't notice until you felt better".

Rassa frowned. He remembered every line as it burned into his skin and soul, as if he would forget it was there, he just hadn't known what form it had taken until last night when Diggory pointed it out.

Phillip pulled back, "Does it scare you?"

Rassa hesitated and then nodded, "But...I know it won't go away. I can feel it-" Rassa pointed to his chest, "In here".

Phillip sighed, knowing his son meant his soul. The mark was there to stay, "It's okay to be scared Rassa, new things are scary. But I know there is something more inside you, something capable of pushing past that, do you know what that is?"

Rassa looked up at his father, then shook his head.

"You have to be brave, Rassa," Phillip insisted, "Have the courage to push past the fear and learn from your mistakes. That is all your mother and I would ever ask of you".

"So...I should just accept what I'm feeling?" asked Rassa.

Phillip sighed, knowing from the look in his eyes that Rassa wasn't going to elaborate.

"Some things are hard to accept, and if it is hard for you, test the boundaries," Phillip replied, touching his son's chest, "Ask yourself if what your soul is asking you to do is right, and if it's not, is there another way?"

Rassa looked down at his hands, then back up at his father, "So the mark...what is it?"

Phillip smiled at his son, still ever eager for knowledge, at least that hadn't changed.

"Well, in order to tell you that I think I should tell you a story," Phillip replied, "The story of how I came to marry your mother".

"What do you mean?" asked Rassa.

"Well, I wasn't born here, Rassa, I was born far away, in a place very different from our little village of Cordon," Phillip replied.

"I know," Rassa replied.

Phillip frowned, "You know?"

Rassa shrugged, "You're a good farmer, but you always seem…out of place".

Phillip knew his son was perceptive, but he hadn't realised he'd picked up on this. It should have been obvious that he would. As he was deep in thought, Rassa spoke again.

"Were you…happier? In your life before?"

Phillip shook his head, "No. Despite its appearance, it was not a happy life at all. So after I met your mother, I vowed to leave it behind. The truth is, I was born Phillip Wilhelm Kildare, the third son of Duke Cornelius Kildare, the paternal cousin of the Emperor, Quatar Kildare of Eldovia".

Rassa had looked at enough books with maps to know that the Eldovian Empire was the largest and only Empire on their continent. Consisting of the three human countries, Eldren, Lovolon and Arkia. It was the most profitable place on the continent, and Cordon, their little village, lay on the eastern border of Arkia, bordering the immense Greenvale Forest that was home to the Elven races. Despite being so close though, Rassa had never seen an elf before, they travelled more frequently to the Empire through the route that was further south. After a moment, Rassa looked up at his father, "You mean, the Emperor is your...second cousin?"

Phillip smiled and shook his head, "Close, the current Emperor, Midas Kildare, is my third cousin, your fourth cousin. Your great grandfather, and the Emperor's grandfather, were brothers".

"But…the family of the Emperor is really important, right?" Rassa asked, "So…why would you leave if you were important?"

Phillip turned away, "Well...it started when I decided to become a Knight..."