Darion tried hiding the smile threatening to form on his face.
Actually… more than a smile. It almost felt like he was about to blush.
Anytime someone praised him seriously or spoke highly of him, it affected him more than it probably should. Something about being acknowledged like that always got to his head a little, especially because he wasn't used to it.
From his memories of living in the Emperor's palace, praise was almost nonexistent when it came to him. Nobody looked at him and said: "Well done." Nobody praised his efforts or tried encouraging him. If anything, most of what he remembered were insults, mocking looks and whispers. The bastard son. The unwanted one.
Meanwhile his siblings had always received the opposite treatment. The legitimate princes and princesses were praised for every small achievement.
