Chapter 5

As Amy and I entered the bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses, an unfamiliar scene unfolded before us. My father, the Emperor, was seated at a corner table, engaged in conversation with the Duke. However, what caught my attention was the unexpected presence of Elara, the tavern's hostess, standing close to my father with a flirtatious smile playing on her lips.

The atmosphere was charged with an unusual tension as Elara leaned in, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of my father's robe. My father remained unmoved by her advances, his expression unreadable. He didn't pay heed to it. Yet, the mere proximity and the suggestive gestures created a discordant note in the lively ambiance of the tavern.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, a strange mix of discomfort and disbelief. The Duke seemed unfazed, and continued talking to the emperor and as if this were a common occurrence, while Elara persisted in her attempts to capture my father's attention. The patrons of the tavern, initially engaged in their own revelries, began to take notice of the peculiar scene unfolding in the corner.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the wooden beams, adding an eerie undertone to the atmosphere. Amy, standing beside me, finally got to see her uncle and was panicking, clearly sensing the tension in the air. I hesitated, unsure of how to react to this unexpected display of flirtation involving my father.

As the seconds stretched, we seemed to hold our breaths, awaiting a resolution to the uncomfortable spectacle. The tavern's lively spirit was momentarily eclipsed by the awkwardness of the situation, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Amaryllis who was quick to act, sat near a lady. She is known to sell the best viels in the place. Amy bought one and wore it. It was of black color. She managed to save herself no matter what it took, however, I couldn't shake off the way I felt. I was jealous of my father. He was so attractive and so perfect in whatever he did, even acing the act of being a commoner. I felt inferior to him.

In that moment, Elara seemed to have cracked a joke and my father's stoicism broke just slightly, a subtle furrow forming on his brow. It was a minuscule deviation from his usual composed demeanor, but it spoke volumes. Elara, undeterred by the lack of reciprocation, continued her efforts, oblivious to the tension that had settled in the air.

The realization hit me like a sudden storm—this was not just a random encounter. Something was off, and the discomfort I felt wasn't solely due to Elara's inappropriate advances. I was jealous of my father and felt insecure. The entire scene felt like a dream, a peculiar dance in the intricate game to mess with my mind.

I clenched my fists, torn between confronting my father and maintaining my identity as Noah. The conflicting emotions swirled within me—anger, confusion, jealousy and a deep-seated concern for my father.

In that charged moment, unable to contain the mixture of frustration and indignation, I screamed, "Father!" The sudden outburst reverberated through the tavern, drawing the attention of every patron, including Elara, who had been engrossed in her attempts to captivate my father.

The room fell into a stunned silence as I marched towards the corner where my father sat. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the scene, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. Amaryllis, standing beside me, wore a shocked expression that mirrored the absurdity of the unfolding drama.

Addressing Elara directly, I spoke with a firmness that cut through the awkward tension. "Step outside the tavern and find a good man, rather than flirting with others in here. Have some dignity." The words hung in the air, a stark rebuke that sliced through the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Elara, caught off guard by the unexpected confrontation, could only muster a bewildered expression. The patrons of the tavern, initially entertained by their drinks and revelry, now found themselves witness to an unexpected spectacle—the ever composed Noah reproaching a tavern hostess.

Amaryllis, though taken aback, couldn't help but display a subtle expression that conveyed both surprise and amusement. It was as if she were silently commenting on the bizarre nature of the situation—Noah intervening in matters of the heart within the walls of a tavern.

With a determined resolve, I took my father by the hand and led him out of the tavern, leaving behind a room still buzzing with the aftermath of the scene. The door closed behind us, muffling the sounds of the lively establishment, but the tension lingered between my father and me.

As we stepped into a quiet lane, with me determined to go back and away from the prying eyes of the tavern's patrons, my father broke through my grip and instead held my hand and asked me to look at him. I turned to my father with a mix of frustration and concern. There was no one in that lane and I removed my veil. I wanted to show him I was angry at him. He was shocked eventually but, more than that, he seemed angry.

"Salien, explain yourself. Why such an outburst?" my father questioned sternly.

"I... I felt insecure, Father. The charade with Elara, the unease... I couldn't bear it," I replied, my voice trembling.

"Insecurity is not becoming of a future emperor. You must learn to control your emotions," he scolded.

The labyrinth of my feelings seemed insurmountable. In a rare moment of vulnerability, tears welled up, escaping my control. "I just... I don't know where I stand, Father." I told him hesitantly.

"Salien, you are my son. You stand where you belong, beside me," he said, softening his tone and placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

The labyrinthine complexities of my emotions intertwined with the expectations of royalty. My father, recognizing the vulnerability beneath my regal facade, pulled me into a reassuring embrace.

"Tell me, Salien. Is this about Elara, or is it something deeper?" he inquired, his curiosity genuine.

"It's... more than that. The expectations, the uncertainties," I admitted, hesitatingly.

"May I know what it is?" he inquired.

"I didn't feel good looking at how Elara was with you," I admitted.

"Salien, why so?" he asked, his tone softened. I felt more willing to confess.

"It's not like I like Elara. I have someone else in my heart but… but… you are my father, and she was flirting with you."

"I understand. But outbursts like this are not the solution," he replied sincerely.

As my father held me close, the labyrinth of our emotions began to unravel. Amidst the twists and turns, he ventured into the heart of the matter.

"Salien, do you see me bringing a concubine into our lives?" he asked softly.

Silent and uncertain, I pondered his question. He continued, "Your mother is the only one I ever committed to, Salien. It's a choice that defines both me and your mother."

In that moment, the labyrinth of my own uncertainties seemed to mirror the intricate dance of familial expectations and personal desires. The dialogue between father and son transcended the regal veneer, delving into the intimate depths of our shared journey through the labyrinth of emotions and responsibilities.

"Who you choose to be with in the future is entirely your choice. Still, I want you to know that your mother is the only one I have ever loved and will commit to. I don't have feelings for any other woman."

"I noticed. You didn't succumb to her advances, but your expression did shift a bit."

"She mentioned you, Noah. She shared how she misunderstood, thinking you were an adult, and flirted with you." I gasped for a moment. He knew who I pretended to be. It was evident; however, he was with the Duke, and the Duke seemed to have a hint of what I was doing. I was naive to think I could hide from him forever.

He continued, "You do know that a pot overflows when filled with excess water, right? The water spills out eventually."

"Yeah."

"Was the outburst just because of insecurity or something else?" He patted my head while I was in his embrace, encouraging me to delve deeper.

"Jealousy…" I knew this would hurt him, but if I didn't express it, the pain would fester within me.

"Towards your own father?" His voice remained calm, indicating an understanding of my emotions.

"You… You are just too… too perfect, Father." I started hesitantly, tears streaming down my face. The weight of my unspoken feelings finally surfaced, and I began to sob. There was so much turmoil within me that I hadn't realized how deeply it was affecting me.

My father remained silent, giving me the space to articulate my emotions. Breaking the embrace, I continued, "You… You look so wonderful, even at this age. No woman can resist falling for you. You… you handle the court so much better than me. You are perfect in every sense."

He gently placed his hand under my chin. "And I am your father. I am older than you, and I've inherited my features from my own father. You take after your mother, and you are still in the process of growing. You are an adolescent—a wonderful child. My dear, you are perfect for a boy your age. Give yourself time; don't rush. Your body is growing, and your mind is evolving. Believe me, once you reach adulthood, you will become more attractive than me."

He comprehended every word I uttered. Did he, too, experience this phase?

"It was your first experience with the court when I left. The ministers would have scrutinized you. It's normal for them to act that way because they are used to dealing with me. Having an inexperienced surrogate ruler allows them to have an opening to get their way, and change in pace is hard after being accustomed to one ruler for many years. You did much better than I thought. Moreover, those decisions weren't solely yours. You were more like a spokesperson for me this time because I provided you with details about the court and my views on it."

He paused, "However, there will come a time when you will deal with the court without being a spokesperson, no longer having my views about a topic. You will have to navigate the court on your own, without anyone to take care of you or the mess created by your wrong decisions. In those times, have trust in yourself and focus on the greater good. Don't seek validation for your decisions from a few ministers; instead, check the reports and determine whether something genuinely had the intended impact or not."

My father saying this to me felt very reassuring. I nodded in agreement. He then asked me, "Why did you not talk to me about this earlier?"

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself there. Your tone was relaxed. After all, you did attend another Emperor's wedding. I didn't want to cause you any worry."

"Salien," he said, wiping away my tears with his hand, "Don't let your mind be clouded by insecurities and jealousies."

Looking me directly in the eye, his tone became stern, "Don't compare yourself to anyone. You are unique. Your thoughts, actions, everything is yours alone. Comparing yourself to someone who is a completely different individual seems like a waste of time. If you have something in your heart, just say it. Follow your heart when you are confused about which path to take. It will help more than anything."

He opened his arms, inviting me into an embrace. It was warm, and having spoken my feelings made me feel strangely at peace. As the echoes of our heartfelt conversation lingered in the air, I found solace in my father's embrace.

The emotions that had entwined us slowly unravelled, leaving behind a newfound understanding. In the warmth of the moment, I realised that the journey through the maze of insecurities and expectations was a shared one, where father and son navigated together.

The lane, a witness to our candid exchange, held the promise of a deeper bond forged amidst the twists and turns of vulnerability. With a sense of reassurance, we embraced the challenges that awaited, ready to confront life together.