A tall figure was standing alongside Alfric, a long, dark shadow cast upon their face.
"You understand why I did what I did, son. Don't you?" The voice was familiar, the accent struck a chord in his head, it was not that of his own.
"Perhaps, not now." It continued. "But one day."
There was a long pause between words.
"What will happen now, father?" A fragile voice enquired, it was that of a child's.
"What will happen will happen. But know this, one day soon Al, you will be a man grown. And you will have to carry the burden of life alone." There was a long remorseful sigh.
"Do you know what it is which makes a man good and noble?"
There was a long silence.
"You're born into, father." The child explained proudly.
"No, no." A large rough hand reached down and ruffled Alfric's tumbling locks of hair.
"It is not your title, nor your blood which makes you noble, Alfric. It is in your heart, your mind. Good men don't all sit upon thrones. Sometimes they live to old age, sometimes..." Another sigh, and then the hand ruffled his hair again.
"You will still be you, even without your name. And I will always be your father, despite what others may call me." They stopped, and now Alfric realised that they had been walking. He peered up and looked at the shadowed face, dark against the light sky. He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks, and then the callous thumbs which brushed them away.
"There is enough rivers as it is Son, we are in no need of another." The words were rough but warm, like the hands which comforted him.
Alfric opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at the wooden paneling on the ceiling. A fire gently crackled opposite to him. He rubbed his eyes and found them moist and sore.
"Hello?" He called out dryly, his voice cracking like that of a child's.
)
