Chapter 317:Father Or Not.

Chapter 317: Chapter 317:Father Or Not.

​He wishes he’d gone to the training grounds straight after the proceedings, so he wouldn’t have to listen to this.

But he knows enough of how his father thinks by now to know that he would have seen that as a betrayal; as an admission of guilt, even though Rogard’s not sure what exactly he would have been guilty of.

​"What an absolute farce!" his father storms, throwing down his coat in disgust as the door slams shut behind him.

Rogard stares at it blankly as the bolts rattle in their hinges. It’s not locked, but somehow it feels like it is, "Our Princess , marrying some no-name soldier ?"

​"...He’s Crade-born, father." Rogard’s not sure why he bothers; his father never listens anyways. But his tongue’s feeling looser now than it’s ever been, and despite himself the words tumble on out anyways. "Nobility. He’s a part of the castle guard."

​"Is that what he’s been saying?" he snarls sarcastically, "I’ve never even heard of his father!"

​"Montrel is a good soldier," Rogard mumbles, brow creased, "...And a good man. The princess will be lucky to have him."

​" Luck ?" his father spits, whirling on him as if he’s just cursed at him, and Rogard’s lips thin as he fights the urge to recoil.

Because when he gets like this his rage invariably it turns to ice. The only question is how long it takes.

And that, Rogard does sometimes have say in. If he keeps his mouth shut and nods when he’s supposed to, sometimes he can keep his venom at bay. Not forever, no, never forever, but the longer he can hold it off, the better. "Luck has nothing to do with it, Rogard! She could’ve been yours ."

​That’s not true at all. He and Xena had never been like that –even when they were kids –and as much as he’d wanted to want that because his father wanted it, he never had.

​"She didn’t want me, father; you heard –" Rogard tries to remind him, but his father cuts him off dismissively.

​"If you’d only tried a little harder, she would’ve come around," he snaps, eyes flashing with steel. It’s a warning, for Rogard to stop before he says something he’ll regret, "Silly little girls always do."

​Rogard chooses not to heed it. He’s tired of holding his tongue. And he has enough regrets about what he’s already left unsaid.

​"She’s not a silly girl."

​It’s times like this, with his voice echoing off the walls of the chamber, that Rogard really, truly understands how alone he is here.

And when his father turns to look at him, really look at him, the cold, biting venom in his eyes makes Rogard’s insides shrink and twist.

​(He always feels disgusting, when his father looks at him like that.)

​But he doesn’t take it back.

​" Excuse me ?"

Rogard swallows, and lets out a shallow breath.

​"How can you say that about her?" he says, disbelief turning his voice cold, "You don’t know her." And then, more quietly, he adds, "You don’t know any of them."

​"...What’s that supposed to mean?" his father inquires, eyes narrowing as his voice sinks into a cutting whisper, " Rogard , look at me when I’m speaking to you."

​Rogard looks at him. And suddenly he’s the one who feels disgusted with what he sees.

This is his father standing across from him, looking at him with such hateful eyes and speaking to him with such hateful words, so full of ugly thoughts and looks for people he doesn’t even know and who he doesn’t want Rogard to know.

People who make his son the happiest he’s ever been. People who make him feel like the best version of himself; the ones who laugh with him and cry for him and believe in him and make him feel like he is worth believing in.

​His father’s never cried for him.

​His father’s never believed in him. He’s never even tried.

​He’s never wanted him to be happy.

​In that instant he decides that it’s going to be the last time that this man gets to tell him what to do.

​"I don’t want to marry her," Rogard tells him stonily, "I never did."

​The sound his father makes is harsh and grating, like Rogard’s gone and said exactly what he’s expected, yet he finds himself disappointed all the same. It’s a sound that used to make him feel small, but suddenly it makes him feel angry .

​"This is the problem with you, Rogard, you’ve always been short-sighted," he barks, " This family –"

​And just like that, Rogard has had enough. All his life his father has been using that word as an excuse to justify his actions; for making Rogard feel ugly and small and worthless.

And Rogard is fucking sick of it.

​"Fuck off with your talk of family!" Rogard snarls, and suddenly his hands are shaking, "If this is your idea of a family then I don’t want any part of it!"

​His father slaps him.

​It’s not even that hard but it stings.

​"You’re unbelievable ," his father hisses, his voice like the poison it always is, worming in under his skin to make him sick and cold.

But this time it doesn’t take root. This time Rogard’s body fights back. "...And after everything I’ve done for you. Still so ungrateful."

​"...Don’t hit me," Rogard whispers to the ground, cheek smarting from where the thick metal of his father’s favourite ring has broken the skin.

​" –You forget that I made you, Rogard," he hisses menacingly, expression cool and full of pity; the way one might look at a particularly unfortunate child who doesn’t understand the world, "I can unmake you just as easily."

​At his sides, Rogard’s hands clench into fists.

​"...You’re wrong," Rogard finds himself whispering, and when he raises his gaze to meet his father’s, the gold of his eyes is fierce and burning.

​" Excuse me ?"

​"You’re wrong ," he says again, louder this time, and suddenly it’s not just his hands shaking, but his shoulders, and his breath; every fibre of his being. "Everything I am; it was all me. Not you. Me ."

​Expression contorting into a disgusted snarl, his father raises his hand a second time.