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Dwyer was sat comfortably in a chair, stitching up his torn clothes from the last battle. There were more holes and tears this time than ever before, which he supposed was to be expected. He’d never been so close to death before; when he woke up the healers had told him that he was lucky to be alive at all. Lucky indeed, he thought. He had probably used up all the luck he was ever going to get in that one instance. No wonder he’d had such poor luck before.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted his train of thought, but he didn’t get up to get the door. He figured he had a good excuse this time seeing as he was still in a fair amount of pain from his close encounter with death - not that he would have got up anyways, but at least this time his father might not nag him for it.
“Come in.”
Jakob swiftly entered the room, closing the door neatly behind him. Speak of the devil.
“Hey Dad, did you need something?” An uneasy feeling pooled in Dwyer’s gut. His father looked the same as ever - stern expression, clothes pristine, back straight as a board, not a hair out of place - but something seemed off. He couldn’t quite place it yet, so he decided to just go along with the conversation until he could place what was making him so wary.
“How are your wounds?” Jakob asked, straight to the point as usual. Dwyer raised an eyebrow at the inquiry, but didn’t question Jakob’s motives just yet.
“It’s still a little painful, but I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who barely escaped death.” There was a brief change in Jakob’s expression, but it was gone before Dwyer could discern what it was. He watched suspiciously as his father quickly turned and walked toward his wardrobe.
“Good, then you can help me pack.”
“Wait, what?” Dwyer said, frowning in confusion.
“You heard me. Quickly now, we have a lot of work ahead of us to get you ready to go back to the Deeprealms.” Without looking at his son, Jakob opened the wardrobe and started to re-fold clothes so that they would fit better in a travel bag.
“The Deeprealms? Dad, what are you talking about? I’m not going back to the-”
“This is not up for discussion Dwyer.” Jakob said. There was a new edge to his voice that Dwyer had never heard before. “You can barely buttle and now you have clearly demonstrated that you are unfit for battle. You’re a nuisance. You’re going back and that’s final.” He continued, folding more intensely than before.
“I can buttle better than you,” Dwyre threw back, “and it would have been difficult for just about anyone to defend themselves against an ambush like that. Sending me back over something like this is ridiculous; you’re not usually so inept at judging a situation.”
“I have judged the situation just fine. You are unable to properly defend yourself and thus a liability. You’re not usually one to argue at the prospect of not needing to work.” Jakob quipped.
“Well that’s true, but…” Jakob paused his folding to look at his son, stern gaze feeling colder than ever. Dwyer pressed on anyways, looking his dad right in the eye with a quiet determination. “I’ve saved dozens of lives while I’ve been here. Going back after seeing how many people need my help… it’s not an option.”
Jakob paused for a moment, clenching his teeth and going back to his rigorous folding.
“There are plenty of healers who are far more skilled than you are. Besides, who said you had a say in the matter?”
“Dad, you’re being ridiculous!”
“No, I’m being a good servant. You’re not needed and therefore should not be here taking up valuable resources-”
“Without me people will die-”
“
You
almost died!!!”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Dwyer had never heard his dad raise his voice before. From the look on his father’s face, it didn’t seem like he’d quite been expecting the outburst ether.
Dwyer could see now that Jakobs hands were trembling and his whole body was tense. He understood.
“Dad-”
“Don’t argue with me Dwyer.” Jakob said. His voice wavered ever so slightly as he quickly turned back to what he was doing.
Dwyer sighed, slowly standing up from his chair. He winced a little, trying not to show how much it actually still hurt as he walked over to his dad and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Dad, danger will find me wherever you put me. There’s always a chance of getting hurt - or worse. At least if I’m here I can help keep people alive.”
Jakob paused his work, clenching his fists tightly around the fabric and refusing to look his son in the face.
“Dad, please look at me.”
He complied reluctantly, expression guarded. Dwyer smiled reproachfully, throwing out the last card he had.
“I’m not dying any time soon. The one thing I’ll never beat you at is beating you to the grave. I promise.”
Jakob held Dwyer’s gaze for a moment longer, searching for any sign of weakness - for any point left that he could argue. He found none. He sighed in defeat, giving Dwyre a gentle shove with his shoulder before carefully returning the shirt in his hands back to the wardrobe where it belonged.
“You’d better not, or you’ll have one hell of a lecture to sit through in the afterlife.” He said, quickly starting to regain his usual wit.
Dwyer smiled, glad that he had been able to make his father see reason. Jakob looked around the room, no longer seeing a reason to be there and suddenly feeling the desperate need to escape.
“Well,” He said, clearing his throat, “I must be going now. I have many things that need doing. I expect this to be cleaned up by the next time I visit.”
With that he swiftly left the room, leaving Dwyre with nothing more than a small mess of clothes and the warm feeling of being cared for.