This was the moment that he didn't know would come soon. There had to come a time he would tell his father how he felt. And that time was now. Robert stood before his father's office, his hands shaky and clammy with sweat. In all his years as his son, he had never confronted his father. But all that had to change now.

He was no longer going to bottle those feelings up anymore. The Duke of Starklington would know why his son became who he was today. Dragging down on the lapels of his frock coat, Robert cleared his throat.

Deep breaths, Robert.

You can do this.

He breathed in twice and exhaled, a tinge of anxiety leaving his system.

"Here goes nothing."

He knocked on the door.

"I am busy! Come back in the next four hours!"

Dejavu struck him; A young Robert knocking on the door of his father's office, holding a toy in his hands. He had wanted his father to come out and play with him. He knocked continuously, and his father came out and scolded him for disturbing him. He rang for a maid and asked her to take him away. He had cried himself to bed that night.

But not today. For once he was going to defy his father's wishes and accept whatever came after it. He pushed open the door and walked in. The office was the same as usual; two shelves by the side, a large window bringing in the hot afternoon light and most importantly his stony-faced father sitting behind his mahogany desk.

The Duke frowned when he saw Robert. He settled the pen he was holding and locked his veined hands together. Robert gulped as he was watched under the stern gaze of his father.

"I thought I told you I was busy," he said.

Robert walked over to a seat and reclined in it. "I know, I'm not deaf."

His father's eyes beamed with shock. Robert had never talked back to his father for fear his father would become more distant. Now, he didn't care. His desire to please his father had clouded his judgements all this while and made him make stupid decisions.

Robert got a kick out of the shock his father displayed. If he had known displeasing him was this satisfying, he would've done it a long time ago. He tucked his hand inside his pocket and brought out his cigar case.

"What are you doing with that?" His father asked his eyes locked on the brown cigar.

Robert lit it up and placed it between his lips. He let the grey plumes out and smiled at his father. The Duke's reaction was priceless.

"This is a cigar father, they smoke with it."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Why would I dare mock the great Duke of Starklington who should win father of the year award every year?"

Duke Philip Stark clenched his jaw and reclined in his seat. "Why are you here, Robert?"

"I saw you at Howard's burial." Robert crossed his leg over the other. "Why did you come?"

"Because your mother asked me to."

"You couldn't even lie." Robert chuckled dryly. "What did I do to you father? Why do you hate me so much?"

Silence ruled the room.

The Duke blinked at Robert.

Robert blinked back.

The Duke blinked again.

You know, Robert remembered that he clearly asked a question. Or was his father so irritated by his presence that anything Robert said was being repelled by his ears?

"I don't have time for this nonsense, Robert," Duke Philip said, picking up his pen and writing back on the book before him. His son's feelings were nonsensical to him. Robert clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into a fist, feeling the anger brewing beneath him.

He drew in from his cigar trying to dial down the pain. It didn't work. With each word his father scribbled down in his book, Robert's tolerance level was dropping.

"Fuck this," he said getting up and shoving away everything on his father's desk. Duke Philip was starstruck, his eyes raking over the mess Robert had made.

"Jesus Christ!"

"You don't get to call his fucking name!" Robert yelled pointing at his father, his eyes bloodshot with rage. "You don't get to call God's name father. Everything I've done all these years, I've done for you!"

"Oh, you mean sleeping around like a bloody manwhore?"

Robert's salty tears seeped into his mouth, his hands vibrating. "Do you even care how I feel? Do you even know I'm your son?"

"No son of mine would bring this much shame to the family."

Robert moved over to the books on his father's shelf and began throwing them away. He was so enraged that he had to pour it out on something.

"Stop that nonsense this instance!" his father yelled skirting over to him and holding him by the shoulder.

Robert tossed his hand away and held his father by the collar, his eyes brimming with tears so much that they stung his eyes. He wanted his father to look him in the eyes and tell him this was all a dream. No matter how hard he tried, his father still had a wall that blocked any form of care for him.

"All my years, I've spent them trying to make something so great that would make you believe I'm good enough to be your son. I finally found the moon lamp and because of my desire to seek your validation, I made decisions that killed my best friend and put Ella in danger." Robert clenched his jaw as he stared deep into his father's eyes. "Now I want you to tell me, do you think I'll ever be good enough for you?"

"No."

Robert's world was plunged into an abyss of sadness. Why? What did he ever do? The cigar in his hand fell off his hand, the tendrils of smoke rising into the air. He didn't want to believe this. He had spent all his life dedicated to his father only to be treated this way. The Duke didn't even consider his answer before he gave it. Which meant he had that opinion in his head for a long time now.

Robert wanted to be pinched to be sure this wasn't a dream. But his father was before him. Those words left his mouth. He should've listened to Howard from the start. He should've changed when Ella told him she believed he was good enough. But he didn't listen to the two of them and look at where it ended them all.

There were going to be no more disasters. Robert had to come to his bloody senses and realise that because a man created you didn't mean he could be a good father. His chance to build a relationship with his father was long lost. There was nothing he could do again but move on. There was no harm in change.

He bent down and picked up his cigar. "I've spent all my life dedicated to making you love me. But now I've seen there's no hope, I wouldn't continue going down a path of no success." He dragged in burnt tobacco and spoke with the plumes of smoke leaving his mouth. "Maybe I should look at the moon lamp differently. I should make it because I want to. Not for you."

"That's good for you," The Duke said, bending down to pick up the books Robert littered on the floor. There was no sign of regret in his father's eyes. This was it. No hope. No love. No care. Just a father who thought he would never be good enough.

"Now you have a new direction in life what are you going to do?" Duke Philp asked, fixing some books on the shelf. The nerve this man had. After what he said to Robert, he was still able to speak casually to him.

"I would go save Ella and get my metal from Gerrard." When his ship was found with those dead soldiers, there was no trace of his metal. That only meant one thing. He was going to get back his metal and complete his moon lamp because he worked so hard for it. Not because of he wanted to please his father anymore.

"Well, good luck with that."

Robert nodded curtly and smoked his cigar. "Best of luck to you too."

As he left the room, he felt the tears roll down uncontrollably. He wasn't sure he was willing to let this go. Losing his father's love was his biggest fear of all. But he was going to try and be strong for Ella. She needed him now.

******