Aeron sat at the small desk in his chamber looking at the burned candle beside him. Before him lay a blank parchment, which he hovered over with his quill, yet he could not bring himself to write a single word.
He had received a letter from his mother earlier that morning saying that she was worried she hadn't heard from him in a while. And asking if everything was good with him.
Aeron sighed, running a hand through his hair. What was he to tell her? He could not write that he had been arrested, and accused of crimes he did not even understand. He could not write that there were rumours of him in the palace that he was the son of a certain bloodline that was destroyed.
And yet… part of him wanted to. He wanted to ask her, was there truth in what they said? Did she know? What it was about his birth she had kept from him.
He stood and began pacing the room. He picked up the parchment again, sat, then stood once more. He was totally restless and confused.
