Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black, Northshore

Mikhail inhaled deeply, and sunk into his seat a bit. "Daemon is- well he's going to be my head knight one day. He's in training I suppose. But I trust him." He said, letting his eyes move upwards. 

At the insistence that Heath see his shoulder, he moved to take off his coat, finding it sticking to shirt and skin beneath with dried and drying blood. He hadn't noticed it was still bleeding until then. 

"It was instinct, I guess? One minute I'm worried because I don't have a weapon to stop him, and the next my teeth ached and they're ripping into some drunkards throat." 

He paused, his jacket now sitting on his lap as he looked over to the man. "Everyone already thinks I'm some undead monster, no one will know, but I will. And I really don't want to be their feared monster king one day."
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Black, Northshore

Heath stood to examine Mikhail's wound. He still bled, which Heath considered a good thing. 
"Excuse me, a moment," He muttered, striding briskly from the room. Minutes later, he returned with an armful of gauze, salve, and a bottle of rum. He uncorked the bottle with his free hand and gave it over to Mikhail. "Drink. This is an integral part of wound care, trust me.," He said, beginning to clean the blood from his shoulder. "And do not tell your mother. I really don't need her thinking that I'm trying to turn you into an alcoholic." 
Heath had become specialist at wrapping even the nastiest of wounds, after years of being shredded to bits on the battlefield and in the bedroom with Gabriella. In less than a fair few moments, Mikhail's shoulder was cleaned and neatly wrapped. 
"Being the Monster King may not be the worst thing in the world. No one would march across your kingdom lines, that's for sure," Heath said lightly. "Well, do your teeth ache now? Do you want to rip into my throat at this very moment?"
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black Northshore

Heath stood ever him, and Mikhail swallowed thickly. They'd never been close, but more for lack of opportunity than anything else he believed. He held no ill-will towards the man, and if things had gone differently he could have seen himself pushing for the relationship. But it would hurt his mother, to know he was close with the man who had, at the end of the day, chosen his other family over their own. He didn't resent that fact, he would have chosen his wife of several years and two children he raised over a bastard he didn't know existed and a woman he used to love. 

He didn't blame Heath for any of it, and was just thankful he was willing to see him in times like this. 

When he returned, and gave him the bottle, Mikhail scrunched his face a bit. He was tired of being told to drink, so far he hadn't enjoyed a single time of being drunk. But he did as he was told, letting Heath dress the wound that didn't actually hurt and he doubted would hurt him in the long run.

"No one wants Astoria to begin with. It's full of ghouls, according to the legends." He muttered with a half laugh, and shook his head "No, I feel surprisingly calm right now, all things considered. I think it was a rage thing?"
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Black, Northshore 

"I know the rumors. The best legends tend to arise from truth," Heath said, simply. "Still, land is land, a kingdom is a kingdom. Ghosts and ghouls do little to keep men out. A monarch, however..." He trailed off, already bored. The last thing he wanted to talk about was politics. If Heath had his way, he'd be as far away from every castle and royal blooded prick as possible. 
"I suppose that's a relief for you. You only get the urge when you're in grave danger. It'll do you well in a life filled with assassins and crazy aunts," Heath said, "But I understand how troubling this is. It's not you, and it's scary. In the morning, I will ask the archivist if he has ever heard of such an affliction. Keeping your identity out of it, of course. I'm afraid the old man has long since gone to bed and it would be cruel to wake him at this hour. You are welcome to stay here in the castle, otherwise I can write to you what I've found out."
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black Northshore

The boy also didn't want to talk politics. He'd grown up in it, and would live and die by it. For a little while he wanted to talk to someone about something other than a pending title. 

The offer to stay at the castle came as a relief and he nodded, taking another swig of the rum. 

"If it's no trouble, I'd prefer to stay. Last time I stayed in Northshore wasn't exactly the best. Id prefer to replace that memory." He looked to his father and offered the rum. 

"Am I keeping you awake?"
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Black, Northshore

Heath gave Mikhail a swift smile and took the rum. He was happy that Mikhail was choosing to stay. He never got to spend much time with the boy. Heath shook his head and grinned, tipping the bottle back and taking a healthy swig. 
"I never got much sleep at night. I'll be up until dawn," He said, "And you? Are you exhausted from your travels and bar fight? Those tend to be the two things that take it out of me."
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black Northshore

"Yes, but no I don't sleep well either. It feels too much like being dead, if I'm honest. And waking up is like a kick in the teeth now." He admitted. These weren't exactly things he could explain to his mother, or Doctor Coren, or even Daemon. Only Heath could _maybe_ relate. 

"Are you anything like you used to be? Or did death and fatherhood change that?"
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov 
Castle Black, Northshore

"I hoped that you would have at least had some semblance of an afterlife," Heath lamented, swirling the remaining rum in its bottle. "I saw an infinite darkness. I didn't even get a good story out of my death. People tend to be *Very* Disappointed," He smiled wryly, almost finding it humorous. He raised his brows at Mikhail's question, considering it for a moment, though he was well aware of the answer. 
"I am a bit like I used to be, yes. I can't eat much now, I feel nauseous unless I'm drinking, I think I may be less funny... Though Ella claims I was never funny in the first place so that may not count. I get sadder, some days. I never used to get sad. However, that may just be a result of seeing the things I've seen. I suppose I can't blame death for all of my issues." He set the bottle down beside his chair and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. He figured he should have given Mikhail *Some* Good news. "But, I still feel happiness. Quite often, in fact... Do you?"
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black Northshore

"I had an afterlife. I think. I remember bits and pieces of it, the warmth of it at least. But for a while there, it was just dark." He said it with a soft tone, and reached for the bottle, waiting to be granted it. 

That was a long list of things that were different, but he understood most of them. He hadnt had the pleasure of drinking before his death, but it helped now. He got sad, more often than before, a _lot_ more often, but he tried to keep that tucked away. 

When Heath asked if he felt happiness, he lifted his silver gaze to the man, the same eyes his mother had, and shook his head. 

"It doesn't feel the same. It's like it's on the surface, but I don't feel it in my heart anymore." There was a beat. 

"Don't tell mother that."
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov 
Castle Black, Northshore. 

Heath barked with laughter. "My mistake. I did not have an afterlife. I am very glad that you did." He bent down to grab the bottle again and passed it off to Mikhail. 
"I don't want to assume, but I do think that with time, you will gain that feeling back. Perhaps when you're a father yourself. But don't worry, I definitely will not be telling your mother. We haven't spoken in ages, I'd rather not be the one to deliver that heartbreaking news."
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black Northshore

"You think I could father children still? You don't think," He paused and gestured towards them both. "I don't know. I assumed the whole 'being undead' was similar to stories of vampires. Where they can't have children-" He cut himself off, blinking twice. 

"Do you have a library here?"
Frank
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Black, Northshore

"I had two children after dying," Heath answered simply. He nodded and stood. "We have an extensive library. Follow," He held out a hand and hoisted Mikhail to his feet. The boy was steady on his feet, despite the rum, coloring Heath impressed. 
He led Mikhail through the dimly candlelit corridors until they came to a set of crimson and gold stained glass doors. Heath pulled the doors open, revealing rows and rows of shelves filled with leather-bound books. The ceiling was domed with stained glass murals and the sconces were lit, giving the room a warm glow. "Go crazy."
Richard
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Castle Black Northshore

Heath helped him to his feet, and he followed after him down the halls. When they arrived to the doors, he couldn't help the deep inhale of surprise at how _lavish_ the library was. 

"I think I am, but I've got a bad feeling in my gut about something that's gonna sound really stupid if I say it out loud." He muttered, crossing into the threshold and looking back at Heath.

"Anything on myths, or fairy tales, or supernatural creatures?"