Two wide – eyed guards looked at Alfred and Ruven suspiciously as they passed by.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ruven turned his head to the Prince.
“So, Sire, what be yer next wish?” he asked.
“I need to see my parents,” Alfred rasped, his voice hoarse. He gave a cough.
“Aye, that’d be a good idea, I reckon,” Ruven said, partially to himself. “Sit here, Sire, whilst I a’go and fetch yer parents.”
Alfred shook his head, the blindfold slipping down his injured eyes. He put it back in place and gave his answer. “They won’t accept you, no offense, Ruven. They need to see me.”
Ruven nodded, understanding, and the uncommon duo continued their way towards the throne room.

The blacksmith raised his fist, and once again, surprised
Alfred with the strength which he banged on the door with.

“Come in,” a weary voice answered.

When the Prince walked in, the Queen jumped up with a cry and cradled her only son in her arms. He patted back uncertainly, not knowing where to direct his stare.

“I’m home.”