My only son,
You truly are the most selfish person I know. Everything you do is based on what you want.
The more you are living in my home, the more I realize I am babying you.
I am giving into everything you ask of me and am only fueling your selfishness.
As a result of being selfish, you have an attitude that would scare most teenage girls. These are not traits that a king in-the-making should have.
Frankly, if you became king of the magical world as the person you are now, well, to put ever so bluntly, I would be embarrassed.
I have a solution though; that I think will affect you greatly. You shall go to the human world and stay with a family that is not as fortunate as us. You will stay with them for one year and once that I see that you have sincerely changed, you will then have your coronation.
You will not be allowed to use any of your magic while in the human world. You will not be allowed any money from me. You will get a job and make your own money. You have no option in this.
You will learn to respect me and others. I know you are finding it hard to believe that I love you right now but I do, with all my heart. But I am soon finding that my heart is running out of space for you. I am doing this for your own good. You will hate me later if I don't.
Sincerely,
Your Father
P.S. I am sorry this is such a short note but I am far too busy to take a day off to make this letter come out in just the right words. I don't expect you to write back and wish you wouldn't to spare the drama.
I was disgusted that my own father had written in such a neat script.
A loving father would have made ink splatters with the pen from where the emotional pain had been too much.
A loving father would have had a tear fall here and there and have the ink smudged a little bit.
A loving father would have cared enough to tell me in person instead of writing this letter to me as if I was I was just another one of his people.
A loving father would have made time.
I hastily crumpled the note and threw the crushed ball into the fireplace. I was satisfied as I heard the crackling of the regrettable excuse of a letter burning.