Late night thinking
Ryel lay alone in his bed, his arm reaching
for someone who wasn't there. His subconscious tended to reach out at night
and wake him up when it didn't find anyone there. There was a chance that
it would stop, he hoped, in the meantime, the empty bed had awakened him
again. He sat up, beginning to think of things, he set his feet on the
floor. He reached for the leggings at the bottom of the bed and pulled
them on, walking out the door to his bedroom and taking an immediate left.
He placed his hand on the bare skin of his chest, over his heart, he gently
tapped the door open. He looked into a long forgotten room, a child's room,
strewn with toys, drawings, mock weapons and of course, clothing. It had
been a long time since the boy had occupied the room, long since grown
up and on his own. Ryel stared into the empty room, knowing that no matter
how hard he stared his son wouldn't be there, but a father had to try.
He finally turned from the doorway and walked to the one immediately across
from his own room. He gently tapped that door open as well, revealing a
no less messy, yet more recently lived in room. His eyes crossed the floor
to the bed, seeing the silver hair that told him his little Cael was in
his bed. He softly walked across the floor avoiding toys and other things
as he went. He knelt by the boy's bed and gently touched his forehead.
Ryel watched Cael sleeping, his mind thinking. "It's
been a hard life for both of you, you and Cyel had a lot more in common
than you ever thought. Neither of you knew your mothers, but I hope you'll
have the chances Cyel didn't. The chance to be a father, and maybe a grandfather
some day." Ryel paused in his thoughts, his
mind shifting its thoughts. "He was a quiet
boy, didn't cry too much, always wanted to be a Crimson Guardian. Cyel
was a good man, I'm very proud of how he turned out. I just wish he had
been able to know a longer life." He shifted
slightly on his knees, his body showing a few bruises and scrapes. His
mind began again, "Tonight, I'm feeling my
age. There's forces at work you don't know about, but you are safe, none
of it can touch you, I won't let it. You and your love of magic and weapons,
you would have thought it spectacular and on some level I suppose it was."
Ryel again touched his son's forehead. "Your
father, the one who doesn't get mad, who doesn't raise his sword.. fighting
against a demon at Market Square. I wouldn't have believed it either my
boy. I had not raised my sword to fight another being since I had to raise
it against.. but that is a long forgotten story, filled with pain and anguish."
Ryel pulled the blankets up around his eight year old son and tucked them
in around him. He looked on silently for a moment, his eyes drifting to
something hidden between the bed and the wall. The small glint of bronze
catching his eye, he leaned over the bed and pulled it from its spot. The
stuffed toy stared back at him with the same wonderment it had when he
had first bought it. He remembered the night he had knocked so late at
the door to the Church of Celestia and been let in to place it next to
his sleeping Cyel in his crib. He set the stuffed Bronze Dragon next to
his son's pillow. "It's yours now, Cael. Enjoy
it." Ryel turned and walked out as quietly
as he had walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar. He made his way back
to his own bed and lay on top of the covers, still thinking.
