we’d have to realize over and over again that she was gone. Now I’ve lost your father and have no one and I—I have to face the truth. I did everything wrong and I’ve lost them both.”
Musoke began to sob again. Sanyu placed an arm around the hunched-over man as he wept pitifully, and when his own tears began to fall, he didn’t wipe them away.
He didn’t tell Musoke everything would be all right, but he did what he wished the man had done for him at so many points in his life. He held Musoke tightly and let him feel what he needed to feel.
“You’re not alone,” Sanyu said, then inhaled shakily. “I won’t—I won’t allow you to treat me badly anymore, even if you disagree with my decisions. And I won’t allow you to disrespect Shanti or try to prevent change in the kingdom. If you can deal with that, then you still have me. I know you’ve never claimed me, but I’m as much your son as I am my father’s. If we could treat each other like family . . . bah! Maybe you hate me too much to do that.”
The pain in Sanyu’s stomach flared up at saying his deepest fear out loud, but then Musoke turned his head to stare up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.
“You think I hate you, boy?” he shouted, hitting the floor with his cane. His expression crumpled but he gathered himself. “Do you think I would spend my life trying to protect someone I hate? I lost so much creating this kingdom and holding it together. The only way I could keep you safe was to make sure you could keep the kingdom safe. What will happen when I’m gone, eh? I had to make sure you were strong enough to never get hurt!”
They stared at each other, tears on both of their cheeks as they sat in the temple of the god of strength. Sanyu felt many things in that moment, and weak wasn’t one of them.
He saw now, what kind of life had shaped Musoke—growing up poor under the suffocation of a colonial government, winning freedom for his people but suffering so much loss to preserve it. Losing his love due to his own egotism. Holding his kingdom and its subjects in fear’s chokehold. Musoke had been borne from trauma after trauma, and in trying to protect Sanyu from the same, he’d created more pain.
“You know, I’m thinking about getting therapy,” Sanyu said. “It doesn’t work for everyone, but maybe we should try it together. Family therapy. I won’t tell anyone. If anyone finds out, you can say you’re doing it for your weak . . . your weak son.”
“Humph,” Musoke replied, beginning to wipe at his tears with the fabric of his robe.
“I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but you hurt me, Musoke,” Sanyu said. “I’ve spent my life feeling I could never live up to the idea of the man you wanted me to be. I know you won’t apologize but I had to at least tell you that. I don’t know if I can forgive you. But we can’t live like that anymore. I refuse to. And I hope you’re willing to work so that we don’t have to live like that. Because I—” He swallowed against the emotion trying to clog his throat. “Because I am worth more than having been born heir to the throne of Njaza. And the love I feel for you is worth you fighting for it.”
Musoke didn’t respond, didn’t look at him, and Sanyu exhaled, allowing himself to be hurt by the response but not crushed by the hurt. He extricated himself, stood, and turned to go, and then felt a thin, bony hand clench around his forearm.
“I am a stubborn man. I can be cruel, and feel that I am always right,” Musoke said, his voice gaining a bit of its usual strength. “But I am learning still in my old age, and my most recent lesson is that being touched by Amageez and being a disciple of Amageez are two different things. You are my king. And my child. If you say I need to learn how to show my love for you without hurting you, I will do that. It’s only logical, as Amageez does not present me with unnecessary paths toward learning. And you, my boy, are worth this knowledge.”
“Thank you,” Sanyu said gruffly, his heart almost unable to deal with