#because his mother even if nonabsent can't possibly be functional considering her son turned out like That

[rafent]

— nineteen. a memory of someone they dont see anymore

19. a memory of someone they don't see anymore ( also asked by @lockpicnic & @revelale )

Mother was so beautiful. Rafal was her mirror and his twin would have been too if they'd survived past the womb. She always told him to thank her for that. Her hands were as pale and clean as her hair like they'd never seen a day of work because all the killing she did was in dragon form. Humans were beyond her, she said, even their forms, though she had no problem sleeping with them.

Mother was so ugly. She killed a thousand failures just like Rafal in her heyday and she made sure to say it. Any mate of Sombron she caught alone would be found in the company of their own pieces. Those pale, beautiful hands always had wicked intent; they raised to cup his face and center their eyes on the same level so Rafal couldn't look away.

"So cruel, Rafal. So cold. No love for mommy."

"The concubines of Sombron aren't allowed to take other mates," Rafal responded flatly to her sickly-sweet voice, clenching her wrists hard and prying them away.

Humans. Dragons. Lesser dragons. Greater dragons. None of them Father. All of them found in a bed they shouldn't be. To his criticisms her reply was eternally the same. 'Lord Sombron can take multiple mates. Why can't I?' He saw it in the hateful look of her eyes even now, but like always what came out was self-righteous, as if her lust and her jealousy and her possessiveness only adhered to Gradlon's most primordial laws- none of her flaws were flaws. Because power was—

"Power is purpose," she recited without missing a beat. A favorite saying. "With power, one has the right to do anything they want. A weakling like you could never understand." And the innocent facade dropped as she pushed her long hair to one side, running her fingers through it. Soft and smooth and white as a slipstream.

Then Mother looked at him, calculating, deadly; raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck with a single glance. Something in the air was different but it wasn't new.

"Will you report me to Lord Sombron? You—my son?"

Rafal knew this game. If he said he would she would kill him. If he said one thing but his eyes said another she would kill him. So he told the truth. "I won't because I don't have a care. You never show me any, either. When the other children call me a failure you pretend not to know me."

He stared back, unwavering. A younger and smaller microcosm of her cruelty. Her jealousy. Her coldness. Everything he knew of a mask he learned from her.

"When someone else does. When Father learns the truth and sends his Corrupted to tear you apart—I won't know you either."

The icy temperature of danger retreated from the air after that. Mother and son- predator and prey- no longer locked in contention. Distantly, the shifting of a lover in her sheets pulled her gaze away. She left him alone. Satisfied. Smiling. Like hearing those words and seeing his eyes pleased her like nothing else.