Selfless Love

The Journey Home

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Flashback chapter: back when the Calypse family first returned to Anatol (chapter idea by my friend, Chi). Enjoy!

The journey from the prison camp back to Anatol was slow. Purposely slow. Rather than rushing down shortcuts through the forest and setting up halfway decent camps, the Remdragon Knights took the main roads, stopping in towns with inns so that her Ladyship and her son would have a warm, comfortable place to rest and restore their strength. When, on occasion, the company passed through a small village that held an inn built with only a couple rooms, the Lord, Lady, and their son would stay in the inn, and the knights would set up camp just beyond the border of the village. The knights, of course, made no comment or jest towards the commander about staying abed with his family. Riftan would be long in his grave before he was separated from them for even a night.

He spared no expense, paying for warm, hearty meals prepared by the innkeepers family, stews and quail, warm bread, and the occasional cobbler. He bought them new clothes to replace their thread-bare rags that were torn and soiled. At their first stop, he hired a healer to look over both of them to ensure they would be alright for travel or if they would need to stay and rest in one place for a while. Ruth and the healer both assured the commander that the lady and young lord required warm meals and rest but would be alright to travel. Riftan was hesitant. He would have stayed in that village for six months had it not been for Maxi's insistence that they begin the journey home. She was rightfully homesick; they all were, and she was eager for her son to see his home and birthright. And so they journeyed on.

One evening, still a few days' ride from Anatol, Riftan sat with the knights discussing matters by the hearth in the dining hall in the inn. He had left Maxi and Andrew upstairs to nap as they often did in the afternoons, still regaining their strength. A rosy color had at last begun to bloom on Maxi's cheeks again, and Andrew smiled more and more each day. The room held its breath as a high-pitched wail—the cry of a child in terror—pierced the air. In the blink of an eye, Riftan was on his feet and already halfway to the stairs. Poor Yulision, who was bringing back six pints of ale to the table for the men, was nearly trampled by the commander's rushed stride. Riftan rushed up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, and hurried down the hall to his family's room. The knight he had posted outside their bedroom while he was away would face a harsh lashing for leaving them unguarded, even if it was only to quickly relieve himself.

Riftan burst into the room, sword drawn, with the cry of his wife's name a breath away from his lips. What he saw, however, melted his heart rather than shatter it. Maxi sat with her legs crossed and their son lying further down the bed, surrounded by a giant mound of pillows with only his foot and a tuft of hair visible among a sea of cushions. They were both laughing merrily, but Maxi quieted at Riftan's abrupt entrance. She turned to face him, and her thin brows furrowed at the unbridled worry still etched across Riftan's face.

"I heard him scream," Riftan said, not caring that worry and fear bled through his voice. He had every damn right to be worried after what his family had suffered.

Maxi's expression quickly shifted from worry to amusement as she smiled warmly at her husband. Only then did he sheath his sword and come to sit beside her.

"We were playing," she explained, placing a gentle hand on Riftan's arm, thrilled that his tense muscles relaxed under her touch. "Andrew wanted to see how high we could stack the pillows. We got fairly high, but then the Great Tower of Geese Feathered Cushions toppled over on our son. He cried out, startled but unharmed, and as you saw when you entered, we were quite amused by the ordeal."

Riftan leaned forward, and Maxi let go of his arm as he shifted the pillows and lifted his little son into his arms. He placed Andrew in his lap and held him tenderly.

The commander must have still had a look of concern in his eyes because his son took his father's massive hand and squeezed it as hard as he could, trying to reassure him.

"I'm alright, Father," the boy said quietly. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to."

Riftan held his son tightly against him, careful not to crush him.

"I know you didn't, son," Riftan said softly. "You didn't scare me; I was scared that someone was trying to hurt you and your mother. But I am grateful beyond measure that you are both alright."

Andrew returned his father's embrace, his small arms not even reaching beyond the edges of his father's broad chest, but the effort was nonetheless appreciated.

"Don't worry, Father," said Andrew, "if I was ever in any danger and you were out taking care of other responsibilities, Mother would unalive them with her magic."

Riftan looked over at Maxi, whose gaze was locked on their son. There was a darkness behind her eyes that he had never seen before. The dark, unyielding strength of a mother, who would gladly defend her child to her last breath,.

"I have no doubt she would," Riftan said, his tone laced with both pride and concern.

                                   ———

The last few days' ride were thankfully uneventful. It was early spring, and the monsters had not yet awoken from their deep winter slumber.

Riftan, Maxi, Andrew, and the Remdragon Knights crested the grassy hill, leaving the last of the forest behind them. In the distance lay their beloved city, Anatol, and atop a sheer rock face, their home, Castle Calypse, stood proud against the setting sun.

They quickly made their way to the gates of the city, eager to get home. The surrounding meadows were in full bloom as they hurried past.

The air grew sweeter, filled with the delicate fragrance of blossoming flowers. The meadows surrounding the path were a riot of color, an artist's palette brought to life. Daisies dotted the landscape like scattered pearls, their white petals opening wide to the sun. Tulips, in shades of red, yellow, and pink, stood tall and proud, their elegant forms swaying gently in the breeze.

Poppies added splashes of crimson, their delicate petals fluttering like silken banners. Gardenias, with their creamy white blooms and intoxicating scent, created patches of heady perfume that lingered in the air. The grass, a lush emerald carpet, seemed almost to ripple as a gentle wind whispered through the blades.