''Come on darling,'' Count Laurence pleaded with his wife, trying to defend himself against her angry glare. ''I said I am sorry, I did not know that Favian would come across such danger. I believed it was just a normal dungeon.'' But as he spoke, Laurence couldn't help but curse himself for his mistake.
Currently, the two were at lunch , waiting for their son to come.
This was the perfect moment to address the tension that had been lingering between them. With a deep breath, he turned to his wife and cleared his throat, ready to set things right once and for all.
''Shit, I fucked up really bad...'' he thought to himself, seeing the disappointment and anger in Svetlana's eyes. She had been silent and cold toward him since their son Favian returned two days ago, refusing to speak to her husband about what had happened.
''The head of the royal army specifically asked for Favian,'' Laurence continued, desperation creeping into his voice. ''And since his standing among the other young nobles was low - our son always preferred to be a loner - it was the perfect opportunity to give him a chance to start anew. I was there too, leading the vanguard. I swear, I would have given my life to save our boy's.''
As he reached out for Svetlana's hand, Laurence hoped she could see the sincerity in his words and forgive him for his mistake that almost cost their son's life. He knew he should have been more cautious and attentive, but now all he could do was beg for forgiveness and pray that their family would be whole once again.
As he extended his hand, the count's heart raced with anticipation and trepidation. He hoped that she would forgive him for his daring move, but he knew it was a risk worth taking. Years on the battlefield had transformed him from a young lord into a hardened man, shaped by the horrors of war. He had survived battles that most men wouldn't have even dared to enter, and he bore the scars and kills to prove it. The count could still remember the thrill and fear of facing off against 16 enemies in one raid, four of them being massive trolls. But these encounters had also honed his skills and instincts, allowing him to perceive danger and ill will in an instant. And in this moment, those instincts saved his life.
A tingling sensation shot down the back of his neck, causing him to swiftly retract his hand before it could be stabbed by the fork pointed at him. Svetlana, his sharp-eyed wife, had been prepared to attack with her utensil as they sat down for lunch. The fork landed with a loud thud on the table, a clear indication of her disapproval towards her husband's action. With just a quick glance from her piercing eyes, the countess sent daggers flying towards him.
As the count pondered his decision, he clenched his jaw and extended his hand onto the table. It rested just to the right of his fork, which he gripped tightly as he locked eyes with his wife. "Fuck it," he thought, "I'm going to risk it." His heart raced as he prepared to speak his mind. "Darling," he began, "I need you to know that I love that boy more than anything in this world. When I saw him fighting against those demons, my heart dropped. And in that moment, I would have given anything to protect him." He took a deep breath before continuing, "If you want to test my love for him, then go ahead. But remember this - whatever you're feeling now in the safety of our home, I felt it on the battlefield as we were surrounded by mon-." Suddenly, without warning,a sharp stabbing pain shot through his palm as the fork pierced through his skin. "FUCK!" he shouted in agony. His words echoed through the room as he clutched his injured hand and glared at his wife in disbelief and pain.
Crimson droplets seeped from the deep gash on Laurence's hand, staining the once pristine white tablecloth a dark shade of red. He winced in pain, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table.
"Is this what it takes for you to finally understand?" Svetlana snapped, her voice dripping with anger and frustration. Her eyes flashed with disappointment as she glared at her husband, who sat across from her with tears brimming in his eyes.
"Words mean nothing, Laurence. It's actions that truly matter," she continued, her tone stern and unwavering.
"I know I've made mistakes," Laurence choked out through gritted teeth, his hand still impaled by the fork. "But I ask for your forgiveness, my love." His gaze never wavered from hers as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over.
As Svetlana's gaze softened, she leaned in closer to her husband. "Next time you put our boy in danger, the fork will find another place to pierce ," she warned, her eyes darting lower, gently taking the utensil from his hand and handing it off to a servant who quickly replaced it with a new one.
In that moment, the count was reminded of why he loved her so fiercely - her fiery spirit and fierce protectiveness of their family. Yet, at the same time, she also scared him with such behaviour
''Is this a good moment?'' a familiar asked tentatively, unsure of how to proceed.
Before anyone could answer, his mother Svetlana burst into a sprint , her arms open wide as she ran towards her son. The hostility and anger that had been simmering between her and her husband seemed to dissipate in an instant as she enveloped her child in a tight embrace.
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Favian's pov:
As my mother's arms enveloped me, I felt the warmth of her voice wash over me. It was not the stern tone she used with my father, but a gentler, more comforting one. "Honey...how do you feel?" she asked, her hand gently caressing the back of my head.
"I feel as good as new, mother," I replied with a small smile, returning the hug with my good arm. The other arm stayed hidden behind my back, still sore and bandaged from the accident. I didn't want to cause her any more pain by showing it.
"It's good to see you too, son," my father spoke in a low voice, his gaze shifting between mine and his wife's. "I have something for you," he said as he reached towards me, his hands trembling slightly. He held out a long box, and I noticed a few drops of blood falling to the ground from his injured hand.
I wondered what could be inside the box as I gingerly took it from him. Was it a gift? A token of love and apology for the fucking shit he pulled with me ?