I Have Regrets

Ísar's sniffling filled the silence of the dark room, his uncle not saying a word.

The young king was beginning to feel like his little outburst may have been inappropriate, even though he had meant every word. Just as he was about to stand up straight to apologize, he felt a bony and shaky hand on top of his head.

Ísar flinched and slowly raised his head, a little surprised to see his tall uncle sitting up though it looked like it took the support of the man's magic to do so.

"Wha-what are you doing?" Ísar asked as he wiped his wet cheeks. "Lie back down. You're ill."

The old man did not listen, opting for just staring at Ísar with that damned smile on his face as he stroked the young king's hair with gentleness.

"Y-you came," Grand Duke Montfort croaked out, his hazy blue eyes filled with more love than Ísar knew how to react to. "Y-you…shoul'…not…come."