Chapter Text
Mainee,
There is chaos in Karomm, two brothers have fled the land. One, overcome with despair, has thrown himself off a cliff, ending in a shocking death. Three more brothers have remained, betrayal and spite thick on their minds as they plot and toy with and against each other.
The king is dead. An illness spread over his body too quickly, turning his skin black and blue and leaving him to rot from the inside out.
His wife was stripped of her title as queen by the council, the weight of the crown too heavy to carry alone. His six sons were left to fight for the throne, seeking alliances with each other or kings and queens from distant lands.
His four daughters are no longer in the castle, slipping from their cruel brothers grasps and seeking shelter elsewhere.
The oldest son, Morkov, is actively searching for his two younger sisters, who were last seen hiding together in a tavern just outside of Karomm’s woods.
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The hounds were barking and howling outside with no end in sight, leaving Mainee to cover the ears of her younger sister, Ymme. Her black hair cut short, sticking out at awkward angles, deep black eyes fixed ahead and staring at nothing. Mainee had tried to calm her earlier, letting Ymme braid her long raven locks or wrapping her in her arms and rocking back and forth, back and forth. Back and forth.
There, in the tavern, they hid together. In a room just big enough to house them, with a bed too small to share and a window looking out over the muddy roads just outside. With floorboards that creaked underneath your feet, threatening to break with every step. With a small candle in Ymme’s hand, barely lighting the cramped space. And with Mudback, Mainee’s wolfhound, perched in front of the door and howling back at the dogs outside.
Morkov’s dogs.
“Mudback”, Mainee had whispered, hoping to quiet the hound down, “silent, please!”
Mudback didn’t listen, barking and yowling, planting his front paws on the windowsill, his nose against the glass.
Like this, he could see the shadows and figures of men just outside the inn. They opened doors of houses and stables and barns, searching for the two young girls.
A large man with a heavy fur cloak and a thick beard stopped just outside their building, watching his mutts claw against the wooden door until a rather scrawny man opened it.
Mainee held her breath, her heart thumping against her ribcage, or maybe it was the sound of heavy boots against the stairs. Coming closer to the room they hid in, closer to them. She could feel Ymme shivering beside her, nestled in the warmth of Mainee’s dress.
Mudback was no help, whining louder than before, attracting the attention of the large silhouette. It creeped closer, stopping in front of the small room.
A knock. A whisper. A warning.
“Watch out.”
The door swung open, creaking and slamming against the wall with a loud thud. The window shattered, glass cutting against the floor and bed. One loose shard cut through the thick fabric of Mainee’s dress, slicing her skin, right above her knee. Mainee barely felt it, too transfixed on the person standing in the doorway.
Her lips quivered, parting in a shaky breath.
“Morkov.”
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Domic,
Nowhere to be found, that’s where he usually was. That’s where he spent most of his time. Nowhere at all. Nowhere could be anywhere, wherever he wanted to be at that moment. In the fields with his lover, in the lakes with his horse, or in the sky on his dragon’s back.
On his dragon’s is where he would be, if he could find the bloody beast. But Secu was nowhere near the meadows where he usually was.
“Fucking arse, making me walk all the way here just to disappear.” Domic grumbled under his breath, panting and trudging through the high grass.
Secu wasn’t hard to spot, black scales and hot pink webs along his back, tail, and wings. He wasn’t small either, roughly the size of a hill, he looked like one whenever he slept in the meadows.
Souls Meadows, where he lived, where he hunted, where Domic could always find him.
But not today, no matter how far Domic walked, no matter how many hills he climbed, there was no sign of his dragon.
Behind him, Eavy stumbled, tripped on a rock, and fell. “Gods and all that’s Great! I think I sprained my ankle, Domic.” She yelped, rustling in the grass.
Domic let out a short breath, turning around towards the girl in the grass. Her eyes coloured well with the purple of the meadows, the wind playing with her soft brown hair. Meanwhile Domic stuck out like a sore thumb, with his golden hair and suntanned skin, eyes the same shade as the crown his brother wore.
“Come along, beautiful, I think it’s time to go home.” He murmured, holding out his hand for her to take and hoisting her up when she did.
He paused for a moment, looking at the landscape stretching out before them. A gentle breeze tickled his skin, and Domic sighed, hoping the wind would carry his scent, hoping Secu would notice it and come back to him.
She dusted off her purple dress, tightening it around her waist and fixing her long sleeves. “I’m not used to these fine robes, Domic, they drag on the ground, and I keep stepping on them.”
Domic couldn’t help the smile that creeped up on his face at her rambling, still holding onto her hand tightly, tugging her closer to himself. “But it was my gift, you don’t like it?” He asked, tilting his head downwards, his nose nuzzled in her hair. “And that’s Prince Domic to you, Eavy.”
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Mainee,
For a moment, everything was quiet in the tavern. Mudback had stopped whining, the hounds had stopped barking. Time seemed to freeze around them, until Mainee sucked in a breath through her teeth, swallowing the words that threatened to spill.
I thought you weren’t going to look for us.
Morkov cleared his throat, breaking the silence, his gravelly voice carrying through the confined space.
“What on earth are you doing here? I’ve searched high and low for the two of you.” He announced, his voice stern, but his face worried.
Morkov stepped forth, collecting both girls in his arms and holding them tight against his chest.
The fur of his cloak brushed over Mainee’s nose, the smell of leather and sweat and blood feeling oddly familiar to her. It was what her father used to smell of, but with more dirt and dragon involved. There was another scent, unfamiliar. It smelled of cold, wet stone and faintly of rain. It smelled of somewhere far away, outside of Karomm.
Mainee hadn’t even noticed that Morkov started moving them outside, his grip on them stronger than ever. Ymme was lulled to sleep by the sway of his footsteps and the softness of his clothes, the beating of his heart under her ear like a quiet lullaby.
“Where will we go?” Mainee asked, the wind carrying her voice away, but Morkov had heard her.
“There is no need to trouble yourself with that, it doesn't matter where we go. I will keep you safe, here and everywhere.” He replied, his chest rumbling with every gentle word he spoke.
A promise, one that a father would make to his children. One that their father had made to them as children, word for word. Here and everywhere . Mainee could recall it perfectly.
But it sounded different coming from Morkov, less brotherly than usual. Maybe he was trying to fill the void and play a fatherly role, especially for Ymme.
Still, Mainee wasn’t sure whether to believe that promise. She knew Morkov would do everything in his power to keep the two of them safe and away from harm, but something in her gut told her that wherever he was taking them would have him break that promise. Whether he wanted to or not.
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Luuka,
It was too hot. Too hot for the twins to run around the castle like they do. The sun shone fiercely, forcing the people of Leott to dress less modestly and more according to the weather.
Luuka sat in the gardens of the castle, watching his two younger sisters swim about in the palace’ lake, the water cooling both of them off and providing a nice activity to keep them busy and entertained.
They were nearly sixteen already and had grown into fine young ladies, long brown hair and nicely tanned skin, their formerly round faces now more like a grown woman’s. They had lost the last bit of their childish features, their bright eyes sharper than before, their noses no longer scrunching when they smiled.
Luuka had always liked that about them, their little laughs. The way they looked at him when they were lying, their badly concealed grins, that smug little glare they threw at him over their shoulders. Luuka knew all about their antics, he could read them like a book. Tucking them in at night, hearing them giggle when the doors closed behind him. He'd always remain outside their quarters a little longer, listening to them gossip and be naughty. Sometimes he would open the door and stick his head through the crack, firmly telling them, “No jumping on the beds, girls” , but they never listened.
Now all they would do was talk of their new dresses, of what dragon to claim as their own, or what man they would marry later on in life.
Luuka missed the little girls they used to be, but mostly, he missed the close bond they had with him. When they would crawl into his bed on a stormy night, or when they would play together in the gardens, when they let him do their hair and dress them up in pretty gowns.
Luuka sighed, tugging at the hem of his tunic, the thin fabric soft against his fingertips.
“Lumana, Limeanna.” He called out, waving the two girls over. “Let’s go back.”
The princesses barely managed to conceal their frustration towards their brother as they swam back towards the bank, pulling themselves out of the water and tugging on their dresses.
“We weren’t done yet, Your Majesty.” Lumana spat, pushing past her brother rather roughly.
“Your crown is askew, King Luuka.” Limeanna added, trudging after her sister.
Luuka didn’t know where their sudden hatred had come from, but he recalled the day it all started. When he was seventeen years old, and his father had succumbed to his battle wounds. When the war between Leott and its people had come to an end. When peace was finally restored and Luuka was crowned king. Lumana and Limeanna were only nine then, but something in them shifted and changed, and they hated him.
Luuka had tried talking to them about it, but they refused to listen to him, brushing him off and ignoring him for days.
He wished they knew how fond he still was of them, that to him, they were still his little sisters. The same little sisters he raised and loved, the same little sisters no daughter would ever replace. Because to him, they were like his own daughters.
Now, watching the two of them retreat back to the castle, a sway in their hips and their arms locked with each other’s, he pondered. Pondered how to change it, how to make them love him like they used to.
Because he missed them. He missed his little girls.
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