A silent war of wills raged between Lucius and his father as they stood before one other, and tension weighed heavy in the air. The entire household had become aware of the disturbance upstairs. Lucius's siblings, the man children, descended and observed in silence from the sidelines, their expressions reflecting their father's disdain.
Then Lucius's mother appeared, her expression a mixture of concern and annoyance. "What's going on here Harold?" she asked, her voice sweet yet tinged with irritation.
His father turned towards her, his anger momentarily redirected. "AGATHA! This boy thinks he can defy me and listen to those ridiculous stories. I won't have it in my house!" he bellowed.
Agatha sighed, shooting Lucius a glance filled with disdain. "Dear, let's not make a scene. Come, let me help you back to bed," she said, her tone soothing him.
"And Lucius, you mustn't upset your father," she said in a sugary-sweet voice, her words dripping with insincerity.
Lucius forced a polite smile, knowing better than to argue with her. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'll try harder."
She patted his cheek condescendingly before turning to follow her husband upstairs. Lucius couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment towards her, knowing that she, too, saw him as nothing more than a burden.
With a disappointed groan, his father walked away and muttered something about lost potential and meaningless ambitions. She took her husband back to bed while speaking calming words to him that were tinged with fake sweetness. She then smiled sweetly at Lucius, but there was a shudder running down his spine because of the coldness in her gaze.
As they left the room, Lucius stood there, feeling a mixture of resentment and resignation. It was clear that he had no place in this family, no matter how hard he tried. Alone once again in the oppressive silence of the house, Lucius felt the weight of his isolation bear down on him as he walked to his room.
Through Lucius's window, the moon shone a silvery radiance that filled his room with a calming brightness. His mind was racing with conflicting emotions as he lay awake, reliving the events, including the tense disagreement with his father, the scornful looks from his mother and siblings.
Restless thoughts swirled in Lucius's mind. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider in his own home, unwanted and unloved. His father's harsh words echoed in his ears, questioning his actions and accusing him of seeking solace in the stories of the old lady.
But just as despair threatened to consume him, a gentle breeze carried whispers of comfort from the night spirits that gathered outside his window, their ethereal presence a soothing balm to his wounded soul. Under the moonlight, amidst the shadows, Lucius found solace in the embrace of the fly fires, who understood his pain like no one else could.
YOU ARE READING
The Hidden Heir
Fantasy"In an enchanting realm of magic, kingdoms thrived under a wise and mighty king until his untimely demise at the hands of rebels, a secret closely guarded by a few." Lucius, the king's son, endured a life of shadows and neglect, unaware of his royal...
