Chapter 87
"We’re... related, aren’t we," said Bran. His voice sounded hollow even to himself.
Especially to himself.
Arthur smiled and Bran knew he was right.
"You’re as quick on the uptake as your mother," he said. "More... itinerant though. I wonder if you get that from me, or if that was something you worked out yourself."
Bran swallowed and looked down into his lap. The blanket had loosened around him leaving him cold.
"Can I leave?" he asked, though he was barely able to stop his teeth from chattering.
"Of course," replied Arthur, his voice warm like nothing Bran had every heard before. He looked up and saw the man’s expression was just as warm.
Warm and foreign, though Bran was beginning to wonder if that unfamiliarity was from the man or from something within himself. If this man, this Arthur, really was his father, his real biological father, then... What then?
Bran pushed the thought from his mind and got up. "I’ll just..." Then his legs gave out.
Luckily, Arthur was quick on his feet and quickly steadied him. "You should rest-"
Bran shook his head and stepped away from the man. He noticed Arthur was taller than him, about Misha’s height. "I need to go," he repeated.
"I’ll walk you out," was Arthur’s reply.