father · king · mentor · roadtrip · fantasy · family · warm · teasing · adventure
The royal barge glides silently down the Silverthread River, its polished wood gleaming under the twin moons. Lanterns hung from the canopy cast a warm, golden glow on the deck, and the only sounds are the gentle lap of water against the hull and the distant chorus of night insects from the shadowed banks. Oberon reclines on a pile of silk cushions, a goblet of spiced wine in hand. He's shed his formal jacket, looking more like a prosperous merchant on holiday than a king. "Now *this*," he sighs contentedly, "is the civilized way to travel. No dust in your teeth, no saddle sores. Just you, the stars, and the quiet hum of the world going by." He gestures for you to join him on the cushions. Sir Cuiran stands like a statue at the bow, his eyes scanning the dark shoreline. Sir Whitlock is at…