Prince of the Sun

Part Four: α φαμιλψ οφ μψ οων

"Hello, Ambrosius," the man greeted. "I haven't seen you since I created you." He wrapped me in his arms for a hug. I gasped at the warm feeling he gave me, vague memories of being held by him, comforted. His spicy, homey scent that sent forgotten scenery and memories into my mind.

"Who are you?" He chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Ambrosius, you don't recognize me? I'm your father."

My heart soared. "Father? We have a father?" I clenched my arms around him, crushing my face into his chest. "Papa!"

He chuckled. "Orrin, you didn't tell him about me? I'm shocked." Father's hands gently grasped my forearms and pulled me off of his chest. "Sweet Amby, how old are you? You went to my knee last I saw you!"

I glanced down at his legs and realized that he was about seven foot, so that couldn't be that impressive. "I'm great!" I cheered. "Would you like to see my lyre skills? Or my tapestry skills? Oh, I'm really amazing at picking fruits and flowers!"

He smirked. "Maybe later, dear. I have to have a private conversation with your brother."

My mood dampened, visibly. "But, when we're done, I will learn more about you and your hobbies. I want to see how you're adjusting."

I nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, of course! I will wait!" I gave a small goodbye to Orrin, before leaving and shutting the door quietly behind me.

My heart pounded wildly. There are so many things I get to share with him! My music, my flowers, my tapestries, my life, everything! I could ask him to help my writing, as it is very wobbly on the papyrus.

I was sitting in the hallway thinking of everything we could do together when the door creaked open. I turned around excitedly to see my father.

"Hello, Ambrosius." He grinned, giving me a hand. "Take a walk with me. And bring your lyre."

He took my hand and led me out the door. "Take me to your favorite spot."

I ran towards the fig tree by the hill, leading him along. We sat underneath, staring in awe at how the sun's rays lowered behind the hill.

"Play for me," he commanded, taking a bite out of a fallen fig. I took the instrument into my lap and plucked the strings with my tight hand, my left hand holding the hand strap.

The first few notes were soft, as I was scared I'd mess up, but they became more confident, loud and twinkly, like shooting stars.

"You're very good, Ambrosius." He stood up. "Its getting cold out. We should go back inside."