Being a child had its benefits. Now that I was an adult, now that I was distanced from those benefits, I saw them for what they truly were. If these benefits were to be described in one word, it would have to be... innocence. Oblivion.
When I was a child, I was oblivious to the fact that my father was absent from my life. Though it had never truly upset me, it hadn't been a knuckle of comfort.
As I looked at my father now, far across a field from me, I felt that my childhood was about to finally part from me.
Fiona made her way from Corwin, I saw, and she gave me a brief nod in cue. I walked past our conquerors — my relatives — and made my way to the man that looked very much like me.
He looked… exhausted, to say the least. His face was dirt and grease worn, his hair hung loose and his clothes looked damp from sweat. A silver rose hung limply from the clasp on his chest that slouched. He looked to be pondering something deeply as I got closer, his eyes looking upon my face.
While I have known of him considerably longer than he has known of me, I still didn't quite know what to say other than to ask him of his journey here. When I had asked Fiona about him, she could only reply with an ambiguous answer.
I leaned forward to clasp his hand and wondered briefly what I should call him — rather, what he was okay with me calling him. 'Corwin' seemed inappropriate, but still...
"Father…" seemed to be a safe answer.
"Merlin." He said as he made eye contact with me.
He rose to his feet with my hand still in his. Despite his state, he didn't struggle to stand.
"Do not get up."
"It is all right." He said before clasping me to him briefly. "I am glad,"
"Drink with me," he offered, and with that he turned and gave me his ration of wine.
I siped from it, grateful, and returned it to him. "Your health," He said as he tipped the drink in toast. "Sorry I cannot offer you a chair."
I sat down before him and he followed suit.
Awkward silence was a horrible thing to have in the moment, and I didn't want to put him in that situation, but it seemed rude to ask such an outright question from the get-go. However, the options of a potential topic with him were scarce.
What the hell — he seemed to be kindly disposed towards me.
"None of the others seemed to know exactly what you have been doing, except for Fiona, who said only that it had been very difficult."
He seemed to be as equally curious about me, however. "No matter; I am glad to have made it this far, if for no other reason than this. Tell me of yourself, son. What are you like? How has life treated you?"
To this I turned to regard the Abyss. "I have not lived long enough to have done too much," I admitted.
Then he smiled a bit and cast his eyes upwards. "I have no idea what it was like; growing up in the Courts."
I returned his smile then, glad to be on an easy topic. "And I have no idea what it would have been like anywhere else,"
I continued. "I was different enough to be left to myself a lot. I was taught the usual things a gentleman should know—magic, weapons, poisons, riding, dancing." Then to a topic that I had to know the answer to, "I was told that I would one day rule in Amber. This is not true anymore, is it?"
His smile left. "It does not seem too likely in the foreseeable future,"
"Good. This is the one thing I did not want to do."
He cocked his head ever so slightly and narrowed his eyes in curiosity. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to walk the Pattern in Amber as Mother did and gain power over Shadow, so that I might walk there and see strange sights and do different things." As they all once did. However, with things being as they were, I wondered if that was possible. "Do you think I might?" I asked, hoping for a 'yes' from this question.
He downed some of the wine and passed it back. "It is quite possible," he said, "that Amber no longer exists. It all depends on whether your grandfather succeeded in something he attempted—and he is no longer around to tell us what happened. However, one way or the other, there is a Pattern. If we live through this demon storm, I promise you that I will find you a Pattern, instruct you and see you walking it."
I wondered what he meant by saying that there was a Pattern, despite wondering aloud if the Pattern — as he put it— existed. I had an idea, however, that this could be answered by him telling of his journey here. "Thanks. Now will you tell me of your journey here?"
"Later," he said, and though I was terribly curious, I tried not to show it. His eyes regarded me as his face went neutral; something I bet he was rather good at doing. "What did they tell you of me?"
My eyes slid back towards the Abyss. Back to a hard one. "I was taught to dislike many of the things about Amber… you, I was taught to respect, as my father. But I was reminded that you were of the party of the enemy. I remember that time on patrol, when you had come to this place and I found you, after your fight with Kwan. My feelings were mixed. You had just slain someone I had known, yet—I had to admire the stance you took." I said as I remembered it.
He had stood in a resolute crouch, his legs apart, eyes narrowed, and had Grayswandir out before him with the point down, the hand holding it in a fist. Even though it was I who had the upper hand, I didn't feel like the fight would've been an easy one, or even if I would've been the victor. It was in that moment where my personal respect for the man developed, as well as a sort of wary admiration. "I saw my face in your own. It was strange. I wanted to know you better."
Though I had always been curious, I never found myself desiring to have him an active participant in my life before meeting him. For all I knew, he was a heatless father who would have disowned me, had I met him as a child. I knew of Martin's story, and how Random had done this to him. While Martin would never admit to this, I knew this had always haunted him. Growing up, I deemed my situation as superior, since Corwin had never been given the change to accept me or not.
After the fact, however, I regretted not knowing him sooner, and, after reading his story afterwards, I wondered if he regretted this as well. I would never know how life would've been like to grow up with Dad in Amber rather than in the Courts. Since his own father irked him greatly, I felt that he himself would've been a better father. I certainly preferred him over Mother, who has manipulated and used me, bore me only out of necessity. If you were to ask me if she cared for me or not, I wouldn't have the answer. There were times when I thought she did, and then times which proved otherwise.