Descent of a God

Aftermath

(A/N: I needed to fix some plot holes otherwise I would be nagged forever.)

Reynolds POV:

I hated myself for what had happened. A part of me wished I had told Arthur that it was okay... that he was still family.

But a bigger part of me, the part that I hated, wished he would've just never told us.

I had known since early on in Arthur's life that he was different. He had always been much more composed and mature for his age, and even when he acted his age, it seemed... rehearsed. From early on, his actions always displayed a certain sense of foresight; there was always a reason he did something, a goal or plan of some kind.

Maybe due to that, I was so caught up on his reason for telling us this. Wouldn't it have been better for everyone, even for himself, if he had kept it a secret? What was the reason? What was his goal?

Why was it so hard for me to accept this? Was it because it went against my own pride? My own selfish pride that maybe, just maybe, I had sired and raised a genius that only came once in a millennium? I could only pray that my Jude, at least he was my genius son. However, this thought just made me despise myself even more.

The signs were always there. His strange behaviour from an early age, his unexplainable prowess as a swordsman and his talents as a mage.

Again... Did I subconsciously choose to ignore all of those signs so I can maintain my petty ego? Deciding just to accept the fact that my own flesh and blood, my... son, could be so bloody impressive.

I couldn't help but laugh at myself at how difficult it was to say 'son', such a simple term of endearment.

It took me a while to drag my sorry feet back to the cave. Looking around, the only one I could see was Elder Rinia, who was cradling something by the fire. I glanced at the tent my wife and daughter were in, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to go inside. Instead, I sat down next to our benefactor.

"He left, you know." The aged elf's eyes remained glued to the bundle of blankets she was cradling in her arms as she spoke.

"I figured," I sighed, feeling like a child being scolded.

"I was afraid of the day when he would tell you."

"Y-you knew, Elder Rinia?" I peeled my eyes off of the fire and turned to the elf seated next to me.

"I see many things, but only for that boy do I have to grind my old head to try and piece together what is in store for him." She met my gaze, her eyes dim with weariness.

"Heh, he's hardly a boy," I scoffed, leaning forward as I got lost in the flames dancing in front of me.

"Bah! He's still a child to me, much like how you're still a child as well," Elder Rinia chortled back. Leaning back carefully in her seat, she continued. "I always found it amusing... the preconceptions people have about age and intelligence: The older someone is, the more wisdom he or she should possess, and the more intelligent someone is, the more logical he or she should be. Pair those two traits up, and the intelligent senior should be some cold, calculating shrewd... don't you agree?"

Noticing my puzzled expression, she revealed a soft smile and gently set down the bundle she was holding and leaned closer to me.

"Do you see me as a cold, calculating shrewd?" The aged elf gave me a wink.

"No, of course not. But... I don't get what this has to do with Arthur," I stammered back, caught off guard.

"Weren't you wishing Arthur would've just kept his mouth shut? That you would feel better ignorant of who the boy really is? I bet you were also wondering why the boy told you in the first place, right?"