"I want strawberries. Red juicy strawberries. Not the teeny tiny ones either. And chocolate." Lord Damien's voice was stronger than it had been, but still only a shadow of his usual imperiousness.
Gideon hid his sigh and straightened his shoulders from the hunch they had fallen into while he was trying to sort through his Uncle's paperwork.
"The healers said you had to work up to foods like chocolate Uncle. And that you need to eat things easier on your stomach." He motioned towards the untouched bowl of oatmeal and plain toast that the Lord of the Shadow had yet to touch.
"But I don't want oatmeal and toast, Gideon," Lord Damien whined.
"Well, unfortunately, your wants and your needs do not align right now," Gideon responded without missing a beat, his grey eyes never leaving the stack of documents on the table. His mind was desperately attempting to navigate the labyrinth of responsibilities his uncle usually bore as Lord of the Shadow.
"Last time I checked, you're not my mother, Gideon," Damien said dryly. His pale purple wings shifted against the plush cushions of his bed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I might as well be with how obstinate and whiny you're being," Gideon retorted. Despite this, a soft smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
Lord Damien's lips curved into a half-smile as he watched his nephew. "You will make a good father." he remarked, sounding almost pleased. The veneer of exhaustion was momentarily lifted from his aristocratic features, replaced by teasing amusement.
Gideon glanced at Damien over his paperwork. Even in his diminished state, the Lord of the Shadow emanated charm and flamboyance.
"Seriously Uncle? I am still only in the Courting phase. Are you really going to meddle about non-existent children now?"
With a dramatic sigh, Damien shifted on his luxurious bed, draping one arm dramatically over his forehead. "Oh, it's never too early to meddle, dear nephew. I shall enjoy spoiling your children, it's not as though either of mine have given me any grandchildren to spoil." A momentary shadow passed across his face as he thought about Nirdue, but he shoved it away again quickly.
Gideon scowled, his eyebrow arching in disbelief as he looked at his uncle. Before he could reply, his Uncle was already talking again.
"Admit it. You're smitten," Damien's grey eyes sparkled mischievously even as he lay weak in his sickbed. "Besides who wouldn't want to have children with such a fine Warrior like you? Are you ever going to tell me who you are Courting? I could have died and not ever known." The Lord of the Shadow stuck his lower lip out in a pout and looked at his nephew from under his eyelashes.
"Someone sounds melodramatic," Gideon retorted, the edges of his mouth twitching up into a reluctant smile. "And for your information, you aren't dying now. You just can't handle being confined to bed rest."
Lord Damien smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. "Bed rest is for lesser creatures. I am practically as good as new."
"Tell that to the healers. And your stomach," Gideon countered, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"Enough about me," Damien waved off his nephew's retort nonchalantly, a gleam of curiosity in his grey eyes. "Who is the lucky person who has caught your eye?"
Gideon watched his uncle with a thoughtful expression, a soft blush coloring his cheeks under the intense scrutiny before he shook his head. "We are not talking about this. If I tell you now, before the Courtship has ended and things have been decided one way or the other, you will just stick your nose in. And that is exactly why I haven't told you any of the other thousand times you've asked me."
"Don't you trust me?" Damien asked, affecting an innocent look that was completely at odds with the mischievous glint in his light grey eyes.
Gideon's lips thinned into a skeptically taut line, his grey eyes narrowed with suspicion as he studied his uncle's suddenly earnest face. "No." he retorted drily. His gaze returned to the towering stack of documents, but he could feel his uncle staring.
"Oh come now, don't be such a bore," Damien chided lightly. His wings twitched impatiently against the regal silk of his bed.
"I'd sooner trust a viper not to strike." Gideon said, a spark of amusement in his eyes.
Damien feigned a hurt expression, bringing a hand dramatically to his chest. "You wound me, dear nephew!" he exclaimed with a theatric sigh, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment of their verbal sparring. "I only wish to provide my guidance. After all, I have seen more courtships than years you've lived."
Gideon quirked an eyebrow at that, his attention momentarily drawn away from the paperwork towering before him. "And how many of those ended successfully after your ... guidance?" he countered, casting an incredulous glance towards his uncle.
For a moment, Damien seemed taken aback by the question. He opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally shrugged, nonchalantly flicking imaginary dust off his expensive looking pajamas.
"Well…" He began with an air of careful consideration, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, "The successful ones are not as entertaining as the disastrous ones, dear nephew."
Gideon snorted, shaking his head at his uncle's impish antics. "So you admit your meddling is more disastrous than helpful," he accused, his tone holding a hint of amusement.
Damien shrugged again, his expression unapologetically mischievous. "I prefer the term 'exciting,' thank you very much."
"Exciting," Gideon echoed in disbelief. Then, after a pause, he added solemnly, "I would appreciate it if you could refrain from making my courtship 'exciting', Uncle."
"Where's the fun in that?" Damien retorted, unfurling his wings in an exaggerated stretch before folding them back neatly.
"I don't need fun. I need peace," Gideon muttered under his breath before returning to the stack of documents. "Uncle, if you don't eat your oatmeal, the healers might just send some unpalatable plant soup again," Gideon warned, barely masking his amusement at the thought.
The Lord of the Shadow shuddered visibly at the memory, lips turning downwards in a grimace. "That's tantamount to torture," Damien protested dramatically. "But fine! I will eat your blasted oats."
Gideon merely chuckled as he watched his uncle poke at the oatmeal with a spoon like it was poison. The effort seemed to exhaust him, and he leaned back heavily against his pillows. Gideon felt a pang of sympathy for him. His uncle was a creature who thrived on interaction and activity. Bed rest was akin to prison for him.
Resignedly, Damien picked up a piece of bread and nibbled on it half-heartedly. His pale grey eyes wandered curiously over to Gideon and the documents strewn all over his own ornate desk. He sighed dramatically, sinking further into his opulent bedding, his wings shifting restlessly against the ornate headboard. A moment of silence passed between them, filled only with the rustling of parchment as Gideon continued reading and sorting through papers and the occasional chewing and swallowing as Damien forced down a bit of oatmeal.
Eventually, Damien broke the silence. "I still think you should tell me. I am your uncle after all." His voice had lost its playful lilt, replaced with genuine concern.
Gideon paused and lifted his gaze from the paperwork once more to regard his uncle. His piercing grey eyes softened. "It's not that I don't value your opinion Uncle," he said quietly, his hand subconsciously tracing the elaborate pattern on the edge of the desk. "My Courtship… it's complicated."
A hint of surprise appeared in Damien's eyes, but it quickly gave way to understanding. He studied Gideon for a moment longer before nodding, his expression serious. "I understand, Gideon. I will not pry further. For now at least."
Gideon studied his uncle before offering a small, grateful nod. "Thank you," he said, offering a small smile.
The two fell back into silence, one consumed by his work and the other by his oatmeal. But for now, they were content with the quiet.