"Mother… a voice came to me."
Caspian spoke carefully, choosing each word.
"It was distorted. It offered me a wish. I accepted—because I wanted to be healthy again. When I woke up… I was like this."
He paused, watching her face closely.
'I'm sorry, Mother, he thought. I can't tell you the whole truth.'
Sera went still.
"A voice…?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Could it be…? No. According to Father, they had been—"
She stopped abruptly.
"Mother?" Caspian asked, concern creeping into his voice. "What's wrong?"
She smiled, warm but strained, and reached out to brush his hand.
"Nothing, my baby. Let's eat. We'll talk more later."
She was clearly steering the conversation away.
So they did.
They talked and ate together, sharing stories and quiet laughter—something they hadn't truly done since Caspian was a child.
Small moments like these were often overlooked.
They didn't overlook them.
Hours passed before a servant entered the dining room—one not from their private residence. Sera recognised the insignia immediately.
"Princess Sera. Prince Caspian," the servant said with a cautious bow. "The Dragon King requests your presence."
Sera's expression hardened instantly.
"Why would he summon my son now?" she snapped. "He has only just awakened!"
Caspian placed a calming hand over hers.
"Isn't he the one who ignored me all my life?" he asked quietly. "And now that I'm healed, suddenly he wants to meet me? To build bridges?"
The servant swallowed.
"I am only a messenger, Prince Caspian. This is a direct order."
The finality in his tone grated.
"…Very well," Caspian said. "I will go."
The servant bowed and withdrew.
Once alone, Caspian turned back to his mother.
"I'm sorry, Mother. It looks like we'll have to cut this meal short."
She shook her head slowly.
"I know my father better than most," she said. "Keep your head held high."
For a brief moment, something fierce flickered in her eyes.
"You are not just a royal dragon," she continued. "You are the son of one of the Seven Virtues. Do not allow him to underestimate you again."
Bitterness laced her words—directed not just at the nobility, but at her own family.
Caspian didn't blame her.
Years of humiliation, followed by enforced neutrality from the one person who had always protected her, had left scars deeper than any wound.
Even dragons—especially dragons—were not immune to emotion.
______
Caspian walked through the main palace until he stood before the towering, ornate doors of the throne room.
The servant who had summoned him stepped forward and announced loudly:
"Prince Caspian Drake, son of Princess Sera Drake, daughter of the Dragon King, has arrived!"
The doors opened.
Inside, only one figure waited.
Seated upon the massive throne was an old man who resembled a lion at rest—watchful, patient, dangerous.
The Ember-Lord.
Thalric Drake.
Caspian stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Each stride carried growing confidence as he endured not only the gravity of the moment—but the pressure.
The Dragon King's aura bore down on him, heavy and suffocating.
Caspian did not falter.
When he reached the foot of the throne, he met Thalric's gaze and held it—just for a heartbeat longer than was polite.
A hint of challenge.
Then he knelt.
The pressure vanished.
A faint smile tugged at the Dragon King's lips.
Was it because Caspian had withstood the aura?
Because he was healthy?
Or because he had shown the fighting spirit worthy of true power?
Thalric's voice rolled through the throne room like distant thunder.
"You may raise your head, Caspian."