Characters: Arman, Ybrahim
Disclaimer: I don't own Encantadia or any of the characters.
Notes: Written for the 15minuteficlets challenge, Word # 148.
Summary: Arman dreams of a fate that he fears will come to pass. Possible spoilers.
Did it matter? Did any of it matter?
There was blood on his hands... the blood of his own father. Fear for his own life brought him to this point, but now his own life meant nothing. He was nothing. For what kind of person, what kind of creature, would slay the man who raised him like a son? The screaming in Arman's ears went on; the words "Don't! He's your father!" repeated endlessly in the voice of the mother whom he thought dead.
He barely felt the blade that pierced through his chest. He didn't know whose weapon it was, nor did he care. He looked down at the blood gushing from his wound as the weapon was withdrawn from his body. Only then did it hurt. It hurt...
Arman let out a guttural cry and clutched both hands to his chest as he woke from the nightmare. He felt firm pressure on both his shoulders, and he realized that someone was shaking him. Tears escaped his eyes when he realized who it was.
"I'm sorry, so sorry... please forgive me," he whispered to his adoptive father.
King Ybrahim shook his head. "What are you sorry for, Arman? You've done nothing wrong."
Arman blinked, and swiped a hand over his eyes. He was acting like a child again. "I... it was a nightmare. I hope I didn't disturb your rest."
"Nonsense. You know I will always be here when you need me. You're my son."
Arman gave a smile and a nod of thanks. But in his mind, he still had questions. Am I your son because you took me in and raised me? Or am I your son by blood, as my mother said in the dream?