He woke in his own rooms, in his own bed, washed and cleaned and warm, under blankets. The window was open, as were the terrace doors, and he actually felt safe enough to stay in his bed.
Someone had hold of his left hand, and was rubbing the tops of his knuckles gently, in between flipping the pages of a book. There was a pause, then a gentle voice asked, "Are you awake lad?"
"Papa." His father set the book down on the table abruptly, asked, "And how to you feel this morning my lad? I won't lie to you, you gave both your mother and I quite a scare this time around."
He couldn't manage much more than reaching a shaking hand out which his fahter grasped obligingly, and held close, murmuring, "My Richard."
He lost all composure then, stretched thin enough as it was. He felt the first desperate tears seep out and tried to stop them, but before much longer a sob burst forth from him, followed by abother, and another.
He was safe. He was home.
It was over.
He could hardly stand the sick feeling in his stomach or his throat, could harly breathe with the pain from it, and his father drew him up against his chest and murmured endearments to him and swore that everyhting would be all right now, that he would take care of it, take care of him.
He felt much like a child again, wrapped up in his father's arms and held gently, cared for and safe.
It's been a very long time since he has felt safe.
He calms eventually, wears himself out with sobbing and upsets, and swallows the draught that the physician left to help him rest eagerly.
Still, his father sits with him until he is asleep, and strokes his hair.
When he wakes again it's his brother, sitting next to him clam and placid like anything, working on a carving project for one of his two children. He smiles when he sees Richard's eyes open and pauses to come sit beside him for a long minute, clasping his shoulder gently as he murmurs, "I am glad you are well, little brother."
He's not well, not quite yet, but he appreciates Samuel's words, and manages a little nod when his brother presses a dry kiss to his forehead and murmurs, "It's enough of this, RIchie. They must let you go after this."
He can't help but blush as he clears his throat and murmurs, "They've already retired me, the minute I could sit up in bed. I was just - too ashamed to let you all know, especially to tell Mo