Spock had never thought that a bath, of all the things would make him so uncomfortable. But then he had never thought he'd have injuries on all of his back, buttocks and upper thighs. Sitting in the bath was difficult. But it had to be done. A sonic shower was not going to be enough today. He needed to look presentable enough for Solen and his daughter. One simply could not meet their betrothed without being groomed properly.

Mercifully, Sarek was willing to help him in his bathing process. However, it was mortifying to have his father soap and lather him. But there was no choice. His hands were still extremely tender, and there wasn't much he could do with them yet.

"I apologize, son," Sarek said, noticing how tense Spock's posture was. "But T'Pring has been concerned about your welfare. It is imperative that she meets you and puts her mind at ease."

Spock understood. And even though he did not yet share a particularly strong bond with her, he knew he would be expected to bond with her at maturity. And that wasn't very far away.

"I am aware of the importance of this visit, father," he replied. "Do not apologize for something that must be done."

Sarek did not comment. He finished bathing Spock in a companionable silence.

"Your mother is waiting outside with a traditional garb that you must wear to greet Solen and his daughter," he said while gently drying his son with a warm towel.

Spock nodded. Sarek helped him get out of the bath. He was still very weak. And he needed help in getting around since he was still shaky on his feet.

Sarek supported Spock using his left arm as they walked back to the bedroom. He was apprehensive of how his son's injuries would be perceived by Solen. T'Pau's concern had not entirely been genuine and there were many in the council and in the city who held Spock responsible for his ordeal.

And that was unfortunate. Because while Sarek would have been satisfied to pin the blame on his son like everyone else, the father in him was aware of the many things that had gone wrong in order to put Spock in such a precarious position. And with that knowledge, he could not see his child through the sieve of Vulcan logic, even if he tried to.

Amanda looked up when they entered the room.

"You are going to look so smart, my little prince," she said indulgently as she unfolded Spock's new clothes.

"Mother, your implication that I am the son of a king, is incorrect, unless you have a second husband that we are unaware of or if father has a secret kingdom away from Vulcan" Spock said mechanically. But Amanda knew he was teasing her. He knew her well enough to know that this was just one of her illogical human things.

"Whatever, your majesty," she joked.

It took an excruciatingly long time to get dressed. Spock felt drained after the task, and frustration licked at the corners of his mind.

"So weak.. cannot dress myself without mother's aid…not a true Vulcan," Spock thought, completely oblivious to his mother's constant chatter about the time she spent on embroidering his cravat.

"You are all ready, Spock," Amanda said, beaming at him. "You should sit and wait in the greeting room for T'Pring."

Spock wanted to tell his mother that he was not looking forward to meeting T'Pring. He was unsure of how she would react. And she did not like him any better than Stonn and the others. She ignored him like everyone else did at the seminary.

"Yes, Mother. I shall go and wait in the greeting room."

"Here, let me help you," she said, extending her arm towards him to support him.

"No, Mother. I can do this without your aid," he said making his way to the sitting room. It was not easy but he was determined to make it under his own strength without anyone's help.

Usually, getting to the greeting room from the bedroom would take no more than 14.24 seconds. But today it took far longer. Spock had to stop a few times to catch his breath and steady his trembling legs.

Unbeknownst him, Amanda was watching through the door. She desperately wanted to hold him each time he faltered or stopped or grabbed onto something for support. But she didn't. This seemed important to her son. She allowed him to feel his independence. At this point, she was praying for his mental and emotional recovery as much as his physical healing.

And if it was going to get him a few additional scrapes in the process… well, she didn't like it, but her boy had been so strong in the face of something much worse. She was not about to let him fail only because she was worried that he couldn't handle just a tiny fraction more.

"What a horrible thought for a mother to have," she mumbled to herself. "It is true. Getting through this was never going to be easy. If a few more bruises can guide him back to himself, who am I to object?"

Amanda sighed, wishing to whatever power might be listening, to bring her son home completely.

XXXXX

Spock sat on the cushioned floor seating in a dignified manner. It was uncomfortable and painful to be sitting in such a posture, but he wanted to appear in control. The only one allowed to see him in pain and in discomfort was his mother…. And now, perhaps his father as well.

Precisely at 1300 hours, Solen arrived with T'Pring.

"Welcome, Solen, son of Sukan. Welcome, T'Pring, daughter of Solen and T'Plin," Sarek said formally, as he gestured to them to come in.

"We are grateful for this audience, Sarek," Solen said. T'Pring stood a pace behind her father and kept her head bowed like a dutiful Vulcan daughter.

Amanda stood behind Sarek and bowed to Solen in greeting.

"Your journey was well, I presume," Sarek remarked conversationally. This was Amanda's cue to disappear into the kitchen and allow her husband to speak freely with the other man.

"It was satisfactory," Solen responded. "I am most pleased that the Lady T'Pau was able to convey my message to you."

It was absurd in some ways that despite all of Vulcan's technological advancements, they were determined to stick to arcane practices like having elders deliver messages of a personal and sensitive nature. It was particularly common in matters pertaining to the betrothal and bonding of children.

"Is your son well?" Solen asked, without any preamble.

"He is recovering," Sarek said, just like he had answered T'Pau. There was no logic in pretending that Spock was better than he actually was.

"May I see him?" T'Pring's high pitched voice quipped from behind her father.

Solen looked at her and gave her what some would consider the equivalent of an admonishing glare.

"I apologize," she said and went back to observing the floor.

"You may see Spock, young T'Pring," Sarek said gently. "He is waiting to greet you in the greeting room. If you and your father would follow me?"

Sarek glanced respectfully at the other man and nodded.

He saw agreement in Solen's eyes.

A moment later, the little party of three made their way to the greeting room.

Spock's heart was thundering under his skin. He was afraid of something he couldn't quite place yet, but he was resolute that he would make this meeting as smooth as he possibly could.

Just then his father walked in, with Solen and T'Pring behind him.

XXXXX

Spock raised himself with some difficulty. With a herculean effort, he masked his discomfort and appeared completely unfazed to Solen, and to his betrothed.

"Greetings, father-in-law," he said respectfully. "Greetings, T'Pring"

Solen took his time scrutinizing Spock head to toe, almost daring him to display something of his unease. Spock did not give in, even though he could literally feel sweat beading at his temples.. and his legs were threatening to buckle under him any minute.

"Greetings, young Spock," Solen said at last. Spock sighed inaudibly in relief.

"And I trust you remember my daughter, T'Pring, your betrothed," he added, motioning the young girl to come forward and say her courtesies to her would-be-bondmate.

"Greetings, Spock," she said, bending her knees a little in a show of regard. "Are you well?"

Spock wasn't sure how to respond to this gesture of politeness. He was used to indifference and cold disdain from her. This new behavior was disconcerting. But he maintained his composure.

"I am functional," he responded. "Are you well?" he asked, not quite sure if it was appropriate to do so.

"I am adequate," she said shyly, settling herself on the seat beside her father.

Spock sat down gingerly, making sure to not let anyone know that he was any less functional than he had been before his foolish escape.

"Father, if you allow, I wish to speak with Spock alone," T'Pring suggested boldly.

Sarek and Solen looked at each other, wondering if this was an acceptable request.

Sarek broke the awkward silence.

"You may, daughter-in-law," he said and stood up. Solen stood up as well.

"We shall partake of our refreshments in the parlor," Sarek said gesturing towards another room diagonally across from this one. "Solen and I shall wait there for the both of you."

T'Pring waited for the older men to leave before speaking.

When she heard the door of the parlor close, she came to Spock and sat down next to him.

"This is highly unusual, Spock," she began in a tiny, breathy voice unlike her otherwise strong tone. "I am deeply regretful that you were harmed in your captivity. But I wish to know something more from you?"

Spock steeled himself. He didn't know what she was about to ask him, but he knew he would be honest with her.

"Why did you try and escape?" she asked, sounding very vulnerable and un-Vulcan.

He did not respond for several moments. And then, he started talking in a monotone.

"I escaped due to the illogic of emotion," he said, fighting hard to keep his words devoid of emotion. "My hands were already injured due to my ill-fated training under Sulok. Stonn, Satok, and Saban injured me further. They.. they crushed the digits of both my hands," Spock swallowed before continuing. "And they injured me otherwise as well. I did not wish to face my parents after such a shameful encounter."

Spock was purposefully staring at his hands, unwilling to gauge T'Pring's reaction to his answer. He waited for her to say something. He didn't have to wait long.

"I can only apologize for their barbarity," she said blankly. "I do not condone what they did."

For a moment Spock felt relieved that this conversation was over. But then something told him that this wasn't why T'Pring had asked to speak to him alone.

"I can sense that there is more that you wish to say," he ventured cautiously.

She fidgeted with the hem of her hair ribbon before replying.

"I do," she assented. "But what I wish to say will not be agreeable to you."

"Please speak freely, T'Pring," he said gently. "As my betrothed, you have the right to express yourself honestly to me, without worrying how I might be affected."

"I…I ..," She swallowed audibly, as if mustering all her courage to say her next sentence. "I do not wish you to implicate Stonn in the seminary's inquiry pertaining to your injuries and your escape."

There. She'd said it.

Spock was taken aback.

"May I know why?" he asked in a tiny voice.

"He will be banished from the seminary for at least seven years," she said. "And he will have to put his learning on a hiatus while serving under the masters of discipline at the Akh'meen penitentiary. They will teach him again the rules and principles of our ethics and to enforce stricter discipline on his mind. I do not think those are detrimental for him, but I am concerned that they would delay the course he has laid down for his life."

Spock wanted to know why she was concerned about Stonn. And he would have. But the answer came to him before he could ask.

She was his betrothed. But there was no real connection between them. And while Vulcan children did not exactly make friends with each other, they did socialize during the recreational hours at the seminary. And Stonn often spent his recreational hours with T'Pring and certain other children, most of whom never even acknowledged Spock.

"I will honor your request," Spock said, not knowing what else to say. But she was his betrothed. And perhaps this was his first duty towards her. He would not fail. Not this time.