A/N: A Mother Day special for all my amazing readers and reviewers!

Rest, Dear Mother

Prince Phobos stood before his mother's bed. She was looking at him, clad in his dark robe, a black rose in his hands. Her son was so tall and handsome, just like his father, but he had her hair and eyes. Those eyes were now looking calmly at the unwell Queen, who appeared thinner than ever, her skin pale and her powers dull. She had been tired constantly for months and finally a week ago she had stopped attending court duties. Her son was ruling the land in her stead, every evening coming to talk to her, ask for her orders and bringing her flowers. Usually it was a single rose of pale pink or red, but today it was as black as the night outside. The Queen felt an odd feeling of anxiety wash over her, was this black rose a bad omen? He leaned in and laid the rose on her chest, just above her heart.

"What is it for?" she asked, her voice weak. In the past few days she had trouble eating and tended to return even herbal teas of her healers. It only added to the dull ache of her tired body and rendered her more weak than before. All she could drink was usually a cup of tea shared with her son every evening. "Why is it back..?"

"Black is the most fitting color for you, mother," he stated, his voice soft. Then he moved to sit beside her - anyone who would enter the room would see a son watching over his sick mother. "After all it's the color of death."

"What?" Her eyes widened in shock and she tried to move, but was too weak to do more than brush the rose off her body. Phobos picked it up and twirled the stern in his fingers, looking thoughtful. "I am not going to die, son, I have duties..."

The young man ignored her whispered words and touched her cool hand. She shivered when she felt his power sweeping through her. His eyes, so similar to hers, were looking at her in calm calculation, as if judging how much strength she had. Her magic rose to block the power of her son, but after months of sickness it was too fragile to stand a chance against the sorcerer she had birthed years ago. He noticed her weak resistance to his scrutiny and a small shadow of a smile adorned his lips.

"You know, mother, there's a reason why only female rulers were allowed in Meridian," he leaned in as if to share a secret with her. She looked at him with wide eyes, not understanding what happened to her silent, obedient son, who loved to study and never spoke about things like this. His voice was different, firmer, with more authority. And, the most startling and frigh inspiring thing, he appeared to be smug about something and she had no idea what - she only suspected it wasn't anything good. "The kings were feared for their power, everyone envied them their might and abilities. Now they will fear me. I guess you found the most fitting name for me, mother." She wanted to cry, to ask him what was wrong with him, what changed him so much, what possesed him. But as his power swept over her her vocal chords tightened and no sound left her parted lips. She looked frantically around, but there was no one she could ask for help. Was it a bad dream? It had to be, it had to be a dream broght by her fever. She was going to wake up and realize it was but a nightmare... The Queen clung to this thought as her eyes once again rested on her son. Prince Phobos smiled softly, almost sadly, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Now excuse me, I have a kingdom to rule," he stood up and laid the rose just beside her head as he bent down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. She could smell the sweet scent of the flower.

"Rest, my dear mother," he said loud enough to be heard by a maid who entered the room, his voice full of concern and soft again, devoid of the coldness. The Queen opened her mouth, looking at the man, but as she inhaled the scent of the rose she felt a misty haze envelope her mind. Her head rolled on the pillow towards the flower.

The last thing she saw was a beautiful pink rose, its petals brushing her cheek, and a pair of eyes hovering above her, eyes at the same time cold and burning with emotions the Queen didn't dare to name.

A/N: Was it good? Was it bad?