Chapter 29: Come home
Kael's face filled the large screen on Theron's wall, his expression lighting up the room. His golden eyes sparkled with their usual mischievousness, and his broad grin was as infectious as ever. "Theron!" he shouted, his voice warm and full of energy.
Theron leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Miss me already, your royal fluffiness?"
Kael rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself too much, genius. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't blown up half the academy yet."
Theron scoffed. "Please. Only a controlled explosion or two. What about you? How was the grand return of the Lycan Prince?"
Kael rolled his eyes dramatically. "Where do I even start? The journey was slow because the royal convoy stops for everything. They 'needed to ensure the safety of the prince'."
Theron chuckled. "Sounds about right. How was the homecoming?"
Kael sighed, his tone turning mock-serious. "Oh, it was grand. The entire palace staff lined up like it was a coronation. Mom cried—"
"She didn't," Theron interrupted, eyes wide.
"She did," Kael confirmed, leaning closer to the screen. "Full-on tears. She kept saying, 'My baby is all grown up!' while smothering me in hugs."
Theron burst into laughter. "I can't decide if that's adorable or hilarious."
Kael grinned. "Both. Dad, on the other hand, gave me one of his signature lectures. You know the type—'A king must be vigilant,' 'Never let your guard down,' and so on."
Theron nodded knowingly. "Classic King move. Strict but secretly proud."
"Exactly," Kael said. "Though, he did ask about you."
Theron blinked, surprised. "Me?"
Kael leaned back, crossing his arms. "Oh, yeah. Something about, 'How's Eryndor's son doing? The one who keeps inventing things that could potentially destroy us all just like that dad of his?'"
Theron groaned. "Great. Your dad thinks I'm a walking hazard."
Kael smirked. "Not just him. Mom asked about you too."
Theron raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Kael nodded, his grin turning mischievous. "She said, 'How's my favorite genius? Is he eating enough? Is he sleeping? Should I send food?'"
Theron laughed, shaking his head. "Your mom's too good for you, Kael."
Kael shrugged. "She spoils me because I'm her favorite."
Theron snorted. "You're her only child."
"Details," Kael replied with a wave of his hand. "Anyway, what's new on your end? Still working on the device?"
Theron held it up with a smug grin. "Yes, the device is functional, and not at all prone to explosions."
Kael whistled, impressed. "The fact that you actually finished it is incredible, Theron."
"Of course," Theron said, puffing out his chest. "I am a genius, after all."
Kael leaned closer to the screen, his voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "You know what this means, right?"
Theron raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Kael smirked. "When I get back I don't need to go around searching for my mate but If it malfunctions and points to a tree, I'm holding you personally responsible."
Theron rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. If it malfunctions, it'll point to me just to mess with you."
Kael laughed, his golden eyes crinkling with mirth. "Wouldn't that be something?"
Their banter continued for a while, the distance between them momentarily forgotten. Kael described more of his parents' quirks, from his father's cautious advice to his mother's relentless doting. Theron, in turn, shared snippets of his day, peppered with dry humor and exaggerated complaints about Rex's nagging.
As the call wound down, Kael's expression softened. "Hey, Theron?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't overwork yourself, okay? I don't want to come back and find you passed out in a pile of wires."
Theron smirked, his tone light. "No promises."
Kael chuckled. "Take care, fluff ball. I'll see you soon."
As the screen went dark, Theron leaned back in his chair, a faint smile lingering on his lips.
Bronn sat in the shadowed corner of the academy's garden, his posture straight and rigid. A well-worn book rested on his lap, but his crimson eyes stared past its pages, lost in thought. The garden, with its vibrant flowers and lively fairies flitting about, felt like a cruel contrast to the quiet storm brewing within him.
His mind kept drifting to the message he got from home, 'home' he hated it, hated everything associated with home, hated the way it made him feel, hated the responsibilities that came with it, he hated who he was and what his entire existence stood for. He ran away from it all reveling in this short bliss and freedom only for it to be taken away from him by a brief letter that had arrived that morning. The two words etched in his father's unmistakable handwriting were heavy with expectation and finality:
"Come home"
Bronn ran a gloved hand through his dark hair, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. He had tasted freedom here, brief as it was, and the letter felt like a summons back to suffocation.
He loathed the very idea. Home wasn't a sanctuary for him—it was a gilded cage. It wasn't fear that knotted his insides; fear had been stripped from him long ago, replaced with a weary disdain for the unrelenting weight of his lineage. Responsibility, tradition, obedience—these were the chains he had fled from, if only temporarily.
He wasn't weak, but he was tired—tired of being molded into a weapon, of being the perfect heir to a legacy he never asked for. His father's expectations were a noose, tightening with every passing year.
A familiar voice broke his reverie.
"Brooding again, I see," Aelric teased, landing lightly on a nearby branch. The fairy's iridescent wings shimmered in the sunlight, and his mischievous grin made Bronn sigh.
"What's got you all moody this time?"
Bronn's crimson eyes flicked toward Aelric, but he said nothing.
The fairy's teasing expression softened as he studied his friend. "Ah, it's that bad, huh?"
"It's nothing," Bronn muttered, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
"'Nothing' doesn't usually leave you staring at flowers like they insulted your ancestors," Aelric said, hopping down to sit beside him. "Come on, spill. Is it family drama? A forbidden love? Did someone steal your favorite cloak?"
"It's nothing" Bronn repeated.
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