Somewhere in the vast South.
In the hidden Royal Council Chamber room.
Drax stood before the council, his posture impeccable and exuding a noble aura. Since he walked in, whispers filled the air. All the councilors astonished and shocked to learn that the first Prince was alive.
Drax heard every one of their whispers but his eyes were focused on the head of the council.
The King, and also his father.
It had been a decade since Drax last saw his father. In that time, very little had changed. The King was still the same man Drax recalled. Stoic, not a ghost of a smile or even a normal expression on his face, cold green eyes bearing down on Drax like a physical weight.
When he was a boy, Drax wanted nothing more than his father's approval. Getting it would fast track his path to the throne. It was why Drax devoted himself to his studies and lessons. And now, a decade later, it irked Drax that he still needed that approval. Even if the tables had turned.
