The next morning Michael awoke with the others and dressed. He was nervous. More nervous than he’d been when fighting for Lataxia, or assassinating a king. His nerves were closer to when Gabriel had been born, though that actually wasn’t that bad either as he was Michael and Sara’s second child after Victor. No, there was no good comparison for the anxiety he was feeling. Meeting your son again after you’d both died and been reincarnated into another world and now one of you was the representative of the gods and the other was a king conquering other kingdoms and under the control of an evil brand that only you could heal was… a unique set of circumstances.Michael let himself laugh a bit as he thought through everything, drawing a raised eyebrow from Pyotr.“Just considering the absurdity of my second life.”Pyotr smiled. “A good reason to laugh, brother. How’re you feeling?”“Anxious.”He nodded. “Of course you are. We will be with you, whatever happens.”Michael nodded appreciatively. He wondered if he’d be able to tell right away that Castor was Gabriel. Obviously he’d be wearing a crown that would mark him, but would Michael be able to see through that? Would he be able to see a familiar clench of the jaw, or quirk with how he spoke? He’d been only seventeen when Michael had lost him. The idea that he might not recognize his own son, that he’d been too changed by what had happened to him, made him ill. He could hear reassurances whispered in his ears, in Sara’s voice.~You will know him~“Thank you, Veras,” he said, buckling his mace to his waist.…Gabriel adjusted his crown. It was the plain iron one he wore to battle. Along with it he wore a crimson surcoat and shining black boots, but no armor. He adjusted his sword. Truthfully, since he’d gained the Cantalian royal titles, he wasn’t sure he’d need a sword even if he came to blows with Swandia’s king, but it was better to have (...)