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A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter One

Word Count : 2.8k

Warning(s) : None

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Lyphon

Everything is painfully dark in here. I can't see any of the walls of this damned prison, nor can I even hear anything, not even the whisper of a breeze. I haven't able to since I was locked inside this dreadful place. All my movements are restricted by chains linked to cuffs locked around my ankles, wrists, and wings. By now the feathers have definitely gone dull. No doubt Achlys will pout for weeks about his lost beauty and demand to find Gyn to fix his problems again. I won't lie though, finding Gyn immediately to fix whatever is wrong with me now sounds like a good idea. Assuming I'm even going to be freed from this hell.

It was certainly a bold move on Ulysse's part, a stupid one, but a bolder one than I'm sure any of us could've expected. While it cost us to underestimate him and his ambitions, it will cost him more once we've been freed. Especially when one of us is an expert in anatomy and tends to use psychological warfare more than her actual weapons. They used to say, probably ages ago, to never underestimate the wrath of a Mortis. I can only assume Ulysse went against that warning, since he didn't seem all that concerned about Great Grandpa and his love for his Great Grandchildren. I wouldn't be surprised if Great Grandpa killed him honestly. I'm half expecting to see a grave when we get home.

A sharp, faint ring echoes through this lifeless prison. One that makes my ears twitch, aching to hear anything else. What was the ringing caused by? Is the top finally opening? That makes me excited and afraid. I'll be exposed to light again, and I haven't seen anything remotely bright or dim for who knows how long. I'll need to find Gyn fast, she'll be able to heal any damage, and I'd rather not go blind instantly and eternally.

It feels like ages before there's another faint, echoing ring, followed by another and then another and then another. I have no idea what that sound could be. If it's people, I could be freed. If it's a beast...I'm basically a sitting duck. Damn you Ulysse and your rotten soul. Hissing, I look up, or at least what I think is up, it's hard to tell when everything is pitch black here. The sound is coming from above me, so I'm assuming, and hoping, that I'm not upside down right now. If I strain my ears enough, I can hear something like a voice, or voices. I can't make out exact words, but voices are better than growls or hisses.

A low, aching, and loud groan suddenly sounds, like ancient metal doors scraping and opening against each other, and right in my ears. I wince as I cover my ears, which does very little to help block out the noise, but it's better than nothing I suppose. The groaning on gets higher in pitch until a loud slam echoes in this prison, making my ears ring to the point I'm convinced they'll start bleeding at any moment. Light peers in from above, and despite it being moonlight, it still almost feels blinding. A few tears fall, my eyes burning despite my arms shielding my face now.

Sound floods in more clearly now, no doors are blocking my ears from the outside world. Voices whisper and gossip about what could be in the endless void that is the uncovered cube of ancient metals. Rumours begin to build about the markings on the outside being to protect anyone from a cursed creature inside, how they should shut the doors again. A sense of desperation builds at those words, and whether I know better or not, I call out.

"Don't shut the doors."

There are gasps, a few shrieks. My voice is a little rough from lack of use, but not as bad as I imagined it would be. Soft footsteps approach from above. Two more people have come to watch at the edge, to try and spot where I am. A soft breeze blows in, the coolness practically making me shudder. Wind, finally, I can feel something from outside. But the wind also carries the scents of the two newcomers. One smells of apples and a burning hearth, the other of rain and the earth. The rain and earth smell makes me tense, more alert. It's now I can sense the power, it may have been eternity, but I can still recognize the power and aura of a High Lord.

"Well well..so it appears there is someone down there. Who and what are you? What Court do you reign from?"

One of them speaks, I don't know who that is, but I don't think they're the High Lord, not that I'm feeling lucky at the moment. Still, giving them an answer can lessen suspicion, make me less..dangerous in their eyes maybe. Or, it can make it worse when they won't recognize my name and Court. One answer is better than no answer, if I give nothing they might close the doors, and here I have no windows.

"Lyphon Mortis, son of Erebus Mortis, late High Lord of the End Court, and the younger brother of Achlys and Gyn Mortis."

Silences follows, someone says something low enough I can't catch it. People start moving away, but the doors don't creak, so they're being left open. Something falls and whips the air in here a little, somewhere above my head. The voice from earlier speaks again.

"We're going to need more rope."

Gyn

The entirety of this massive prison groans, metal upset and screaming for whatever is happening to stop. I wince at the sound, but it's better than the random rush of water or incessant, rage-inducing dripping from behind me. My own bones almost groan with the prison, they've been aching for ages now, stuck in an uncomfortable, terrible position. Legs bent and sat on, torso leaning forward, arms stretched to the sides, and wings clamped shut. All limbs chained to the walls, my neck chained to the ceiling, but unable to move from the tightness of the cuffs and taughtness of the chains. My legs beg for me to stand, my back pleading for me to slouch or at least shift, and my precious wings just want to stretch and feel the wind against my feathers again. Oh what I'd give to fly again. And all of my body pleading for me to stop soaking in the water as high as my chest, nearly to my face at this point, some hair dangling and dipping into dark waters. The two wings on the lower end of my back is already half in the water, soaking and making me want to shiver again.

The prison wasn't always this water filled, but slowly it's built up. And given enough time, I'd likely be stuck here, eternally drowning but unable to die. True hell indeed.

With a groan the prison suddenly tilts backwards. Water rushes at me, drenching my entire body and leaving me holding my breath for a moment, then choking and spitting out water for another few. Unfortunately, despite gravity trying to pull me back into the water, now below me, the chains don't allow it, I'm dangling above the water. There's another groan and the prison rights itself, returning to it's original position. I wince and brace myself for the oncoming impact of the rushing, practically tidalwaving, water. There's a loud rush and a strong force hits my wings and head. I nearly black out, but I'm left awake, under water and with a nasty headache. I scream, the sound muffled by the water and turning to bubbles that rush to top. When the water sinks back to chest height my scream echoes, the shrill noise nearly deafening me.

I hack and cough as small droplets rise from my lungs and drip back into the dark, chilly water. I groan, head wanting to hang but instead making the collar choke me. With a wince I right my head again. Air blesses my lungs as the only good thing of today. What the hell was that just now anyways? I can only assume Ulysse made sure this prison was cast underwater, so maybe a large sea creature? No..maybe not..but what else could it be? This prison is ancient and massive, nothing small could move it.

I grunt as the prison moves again, this time there's a draggin sound by the doors ahead of me, something like..sand? Possibly dirt? My body shakes when the prison abruptly stops moving, the chains rattle and clink, swinging for a little bit. The ancient doors that keep me locked in here more than the chains open, light from the day floods in, reaching my knees. The darkness flees from the front, behind me probably becoming ever darker. The sudden brightness makes my vision go white, eyes burning with a pressure behind them that makes a strangled scream escape me. I struggle to turn, to look away, let my eyes adjust and not go blind instantly. A few hot, burning tears fall and quickly slide down my face and neck. All six wings flap violently, trying to free themselves and block the light, protect me, unfortunately it doesn't work. Gods it hurts. Another pained noise comes from my throat, something between a sob and a cry. As much as I'd love to feel embarassed right now, I don't have it in me.

Footsteps approach, swiftly, each one echoing in this hollow chamber. At the sound I realize most of the water has flooded out. Voices shout warnings and commands to stop, to back away and 'get away from them! They could be dangerous'. I wince, twisting my head again, skin scraping against the rough, damp, and cold collar around my neck. My arms pull and push, trying to cover my ears and eyes, it only makes them scrape badly against my shackles though. More tears flow and another mix of a sob and cry echoes in the prison. The footsteps approach faster until some of the light vanishes from my vision, the pressure behind my eyes easing away.

The smell of the sea and lotuses envelops me, catching me a little off guard. The stranger in front of me gently takes my face, turning it back to face forwards again. The first thing I see are bright turquoise eyes, concern is laced in them and I can't help but feel guilty. But at the same time, I'm a little captivated by their eyes. They're a beautiful turquoise, almost like they've captured the sea and trapped them in a pair of eyes. It almost catches my breath, and my wings almost flap a little. They smile slightly, which is when I notice the stranger's dark skin and white hair, I almost smile back.

"Be careful, you're going to hurt yourself..now can you tell me who you are? Where you're from maybe? Or why you're in here?..Do you understand me?"

His voice is soothing, almost melodic. I smile faintly, but for very briefly, I need to give him answers.

"I understand, don't worry. Thank you for the concern..my name is Gyn Mortis. My home is likely not a place you know of, but I'll say anyways. I am from the End Court, it is north of the Night Court. I am in here because my Father, it's former High Lord, died and my cousin imprisoned me and my two brothers in seperate prisons. Rumours had been going around that one of us would inherit the title, so out of jealousy he forced us into these. I do not know how long I have been in here and I can only guess where I am."

I end coughing after speaking. I haven't spoken in a while, nor this much. The stranger pats my back, chuckling a little while looking a bit surprised.

"Easy there, don't push yourself. And I'm sorry, you're right, I don't know of the End Court..but I will try to help you."

I smile a little, nodding and whispering thank you. He turns to call behind him, ordering for a blanket and a locksmith.

Achlys

The flame, small as one on a candle, seems as bright as the sun. I try not to wince or squint, acting like my eyes aren't ready to bleed at the brightness. I'll need to find Gyn, get her to make my feathers beautiful again and fix my broken, breaking eyes. But that'll have to wait until this jackass lets me go.

I sigh as the russet eyed, ruby haired male in front of me stares me down. He and some of his servants had found me and managed to get me out of the damned prison, which immediately returned itself home, no doubt family members will either shout for joy or throw a hissy fit when they're informed of the returned prison. The servants stand a few feet behind the male, heads all facing downwards, all of them apparently finding the dirt ground of the cave fascinating.

Russet eyes squats, the fire right between us now. I opted to sit rather than stand, it seemed more comfortable and I've already had to stand for who knows how long anyways; I was switched between standing and sitting every so often, but for the longest time now I had to stand, making my legs feel weak, tired, and stiff. I could swear he's smirking slightly. It's tempting to just slap him, maybe see how he reacts. I don't, of course, but it's nice imagining it happening.

"Well then, I've freed you, whatever you are. So you owe me one. Now you're going to kill my someone for me."

I narrow my eyes this time, almost tilting my head. If I didn't know any better I'd think I'd returned home with the prison. Of course I was only freed to be indebted to Russet Eyes. I hiss lowly, much to Russet's amusement.

"Don't look so pouty. It's only one life. Besides, it'll probably be easy for you. I doubt they locked up a human in something like your little prison." He smirks again, I almost scowl. "Don't tell me you're nothing but a weakling. Gods, I didn't save someone useless did I? What a waste of effort."

At that I nearly punch him, I'd certainly love the feeling of his face being broken by my fists, blood pouring everywhere. I almost smirk at the thought, that would be wonderful.

"Shut it. I have no doubts I am more powerful than you, nor do I have any doubts that my skill is greatly higher than yours."

He snorts as I stand, moving to leave. If someone hasn't already found my siblings, I might as well find them myself. He stands though, pressing a hand on my chest, just over my heart. A warmth builds until it's borderline burning and there's a chance my shirt is about to be set on fire or start smoking. I glare at him, cracking my neck as I flex my fingers. It's been some time, but now that I'm not trapped in that damning prison I can use my abilities again. It feels good to watch his daggers rise and hover a hair above his scalp, like some mock crown that could kill him at any moment. Though because of how long it's been it's not as stable, some of the daggers occasionally wobbling. Clenching my hands into fists the daggers fix themselves, staying still and perfectly angled to stab into his head. I'm going to need to practice more, make sure I'm back to my original skill and strength again.

Russet raises a brow, humming faintly. "What is your name?..You're not from here, are you?"

"If you're really so curious, red locks, it's Achlys. And I come from hell."

He bristles a little at the nickname, but snickers at my last answer. "Red locks..no. You can call me Fenix Vanserra, welcome to Hell 2.0."

~~~

Hello, thank you for reading this. Feel free to let me know what you think. Have a good day/night. You deserve to be happy.

~~~

P.S. This fanfic is available on Quotev and AO3

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The thing is, Tamlin should have the ability to grow any kind of plantation. He should be able to clench his fist and cause an entire forest to shoot up from the ground. He could snap his fingers and where there was once an army is now a rich, dense wood with bodies and scattered limbs spilling out from the roots.

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I am not too sure about Dawn or Dusk's powers, since that is very much an inbetween. Someone figure that out for me.

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A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter Four

Word Count : 8.7k

Warning(s) : N/A

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon...)

Lyphon

I always preferred eating outside to eating inside. I want to eat where there is sun on my back and I’m surrounded by fresh air with a cool breeze that quietly passes by, ruffling my hair a little. Maybe surrounded by beautiful flowers or plants or trees. But in general, eating outside is better. I don’t care if it’s a feast or a small snack, it doesn’t really matter so long as I’m filling my stomach and I’m not stuck inside a dull castle.

And the Spring Court is the perfect place to have a picnic. It was Lucien’s idea originally, Tamlin was hesitant but complied, leading us to a field and setting everything up. Lucien explained that there several snacks, foods, and treats were set up with tea and some fruit juices. He had helped me avoid sitting on any snacks or creases that would cause a spill. Now we all just sit in silence, enjoying our lunches.

In the background I can hear birds singing as a gentle breeze dances with the vines of a nearby willow tree. A small creature is running through the grass, probably a bunny. I imagine it’s still quite beautiful here. My family had visited this Court a few times for official business. Each time I was enchanted and thought it was gorgeous here. Our plants never looked as lively, vibrant. Our gardens could never compare to the one’s of Theron’s for example. Even after he taught us how to garden better. Maybe it was the soil. Maybe our home could never host life properly, or at least normal life.

Of all the Courts I believe Spring was always my favourite. Winter was too cold, though Gyn always loved it’s frigid weather and her ties to it. Autumn was too cruel, or at least the Vanserra’s always had incredibly untrustworthy characteristics to them, except Lucien, who has proven he’s nothing like the Vanserra’s I’ve met. Summer was nice, but it usually had more tropical plants, less fields of flowers and more water. Dawn was always nice though, a comforting feeling place that always played neutral parts well. Day was…so lively. It was always bright and everyone had a never ending energy until the sun set. It was exhausting, but the libraries were always magical and incredible. We could get lost for years inside them and we’d be content with it. The Night Court was dreadful, misery everywhere and no light underground. Velaris was nicer, but I always felt a little cooped up there, I couldn’t explore a lot. At home Gyn would take me on walks, we’d explore for hours, she’d tell tales of things, I’d listen. We’d be home well past sundown. Despite how much older my brother and sister are, there were still some spots they’d never found before. Creatures they’d never met. Our home can be a living hell, but it never fails to offer endless adventure outside, endless fantastical elements with calm danger.

There were some nights where I was upset, and I’d thought I was quiet and sneaky, that I could get away with crying myself to sleep. Whether it was from stress or genuine hurt, it never mattered. Achlys and Gyn would scoop me up in my blankets and we’d leave with the moon being the only thing illuminating our path. To calm me down they would hum or sing lullabies, show me beautiful, gentle animals and flowers, and tell me stories of a brave Prince who greatest battle was against his heartless Father, the King. It worked everytime. I would fall asleep, comforted and happy. I always woke up in my bed, smelling flowers, a vase of them beside my bed, freshly cut and from one of their personal gardens. Gardens Theron helped plant, gardens that could rival those of the Spring Court’s. Which makes sense, Theron was a male my age who became the High Lord of Spring. He was smart like Boreas and Cosmas, befriending my siblings so he’d have their protection and support. Though their original intentions faded after time, we all did become and stay genuine friends. Long gone are those days though.

Sighing I take another bite of my sandwich. It’s funny, thinking of such old memories. And now that I think of it..this is where I met Reqius. He was a servant, one of the gardeners, he attended to several sections of roses, all of which he expertly kept alive and gleaming..yes I met Reqius in the Spring Court. And now all I have left of him is Ellian. That poor, sweet boy. By the Mother I hope he’s alright. He was always strong and brave, even after what happened to Rima and Terris. He had Reqius’s kindness and determination, so of course he was never easily shaken.

“Enjoying your sandwich, Lyphon?”

Lucien’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, returning me to the Spring Court and our lunch. I hum, nodding.

“Yes, it’s well made, thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank us for. The chefs made everything, we merely brought everything here.” Tamlin speaks up, his voice rough enough that he clears his throat afterwards.

“Yes, well, you still allowed us to eat outside, which is a nice change. So thank you for that.”

The two are silent for another few minutes, everyone enjoying the snacks or sipping drinks. Tamlin speaks again though, that serious High Lord attitude appearing again.

“I have news.”

I imagine Lucien perking up at this, interested by the announcement and excited on my behalf.

“Did Lyphon’s family contact you?”

I chuckle a little before Tamlin can answer. While the notion is nice, the reality isn’t quite the same.

“I doubt they would. They know that we know better and that we’ll return on our own time, I doubt they’re worried about me or my siblings. I would be more surprised if they did.”

“His family did not contact us, no. I had asked Helion about any records regarding his family, and recently he has invited us to stay a week in the Day Court. Because of this invitation I believe he has found something. He never disclosed that however. So the beginning of next week is when we will visit.”

I hum quietly. Helion…High Lord of the Day Court. I’ve not even the slightest idea about who he is or what he’s like. I can remember one of his ancestors though, or who could be his ancestor. His name was Atalo. He was clever with a quick tongue and charming personality. I suspected that it was all a charade, a carefully made mask, but no one ever batted an eye at him because of it. He was also quite intelligent, and generous enough to allow some to visit the libraries. I wonder how alike the two are. Somehow I doubt Helion will be too serious, like Atalo.

Visiting for a whole week…that should be interesting. It would be nice to visit the libraries again, see any new editions to them. Plus, it would be interesting to see what records Prythian has on us. I’m sure there’s a few ugly patches, but as far as I’ve been aware we were never all that bad, we helped more than we challenged or caused trouble since we had several of our own issues to deal with.

Humming I switch trains of thought.

“Lucien, you previously mentioned you aren’t from Spring. Are you from Autumn?”

Lucien is quiet for a moment, softly humming as he thinks, likely deciding whether to answer me or change the subject. He sighs a little, taking a sip of whatever drink he chose before settling on his answer.

“I was..but I left and came here instead since Tamlin and I were old friends. He let me stay and made me his emissary.”

I hum a little, carefully searching for my glass and taking a sip of my juice. There’s clearly more to the story, but I won’t push, it’s likely a touchy subject anyways.

“I see..tell me. Are the others High Lords cruel?”

Tamlin grunts, almost scoffing.

“It’s a mix. Beron is notoriously cruel, along with Rhysand. Tarquin is more on the kind side. Kallias and Thesan tend to be more neutral. They’re not cruel, but they don’t jump to be kind either. Helion seems to be between neutral and kind, but I’m sure he has the capability to be cruel.”

I chuckle quietly.

“Anyone has the capability to be cruel, should they be pushed far enough. Even the kindest of people can crack and eventually shatter, usually leading to a terrible consequences for everyone surrounding them. Though some are just naturally cruel, whether they intend to be or not.” I say, my head falling back a little. If my eyes weren’t so bad I’d be staring at the sky, maybe watching clouds float by, observe their odd shapes.

That being said though, I’m hoping Gyn and Achlys aren’t stuck in Autumn or Night. Sure we had friends in both in the past, but that was a very long time ago and those ties have been cut. Briefly I wonder what it would take to rebuild those alliances. Probably a lot of bargaining, honestly.

“You sound like you speak from experience.” Tamlin says, sounding almost thoughtful.

“Yes, well, I’ve seen it many times before. The kindest souls being pushed to their very limits and yet still, being expected to act as sweet and unbothered. The cruel ones see them as nothing but stupid pawns to walk all over, and when the time comes when they snap..somehow everyone is surprised.” I hum, “there was one such case many years ago with a family, who had been causing us a lot of trouble, and we suspected it was entirely on purpose. We learned quickly they were abusive to their servants, one in particular.”

“I can still recall the marks on their body that couldn’t be as well hidden as the others. It was disgusting. And he was a sweetheart too. Achlys was concerned and warned the family that they’ll end up biting themselves in the ass. But Gyn and I saw it coming miles away. Gyn had a dagger made for them and offered them a job in our main palace. They said no, at first, deciding to stay loyal, hopeful…”

A silence follows, it feels somber and still. Even the breeze feels a little stiff and tense. We all know the ending.

“They endured half a year more..and then they snapped. It was at a banquet they were hosting. We were in attendance. Their eldest son threw a fit, the perfect image of a spoiled, narcissistic brat that thought he ruled the world. He took the brunt of it, and then…chaos erupted. He apparently carried the dagger with him everywhere, and he’d used it to slit the son’s throat.” I sigh, what a night that was. “In a matter of minutes he’d pulled us outside, given us a load of evidence proving their involvement with underground dealings that spelled out their plans of eliminating us and taking the title of ‘Ruling Family’. He’d also set fire to the manor. The family ended up demanding us for compensation, and we refused. Revealing the collected evidence and arresting them. Thankfully, he’s doing much better now.”

I smile a bit at the memory. Had it not been for that devilish family, he probably would’ve been much happier for longer. Not stuck in some hell with a loyalty for the demons surrounding them, hoping them to truly be secretly angels. The poor soul.

Tamlin hums at the story, Lucien stays quiet, mostly. I can hear his eye moving a bit from time to time. I wonder if his eye ever gets dry, probably not as it’s enchanted for one, and likely not made of flesh. I’m sure both my siblings would be fascinated.

“Where is he now?” Lucien asks after a moment, I’m guessing he’s checking that he’s not poor or homeless, something we’d never allow to happen. Homelessness is a death sentence in our Court, it’s basically a crime to allow anyone to sleep anywhere outside, not unless they were given strict permissions from us.

“He took up Gyn’s offer. Though he requested to work in her palace instead. She complied, so now he works and lives there. It’s a good ending to that story. I can’t imagine why anyone would abuse those who serve them, especially if you rely on them. They say there is strength in numbers and well…who will help you when they turn on you? Or when you fall? You’ve essentially made sure there’s no chance of anyone catching you. So what will you do when you need help?”

I hear nothing, so I imagine Lucien nodding at the information, satisfied with the outcome perhaps.

We return to the silence of before, continuing to snack on our food, drink our drinks. I listen for anything nearby. The wind stays gentle, there’s the odd bird singing a few notes, and sometimes a small critter running somewhere. If I’m not careful there is a good chance I’’ll relax too much and fall asleep.

“Well, it’s time I go back inside. I have a meeting in a half hour and plenty of paperwork to sort through.” Tamlin speaks up, standing up afterwards. He leaves, walking back towards the manor, Lucien sighing a little.

“I suppose lunch is over then..ugh back to dreadful work then. Do you want to come inside with me, Lyphon? I’ll have the servants gather everything.”

I shake my head.

“No, I’ll stay here a while longer. Thank you though.”

Lucien stays quiet for a moment before turning and heading back to the manor, leaving me to my lonesome.

Gyn

I’m relying heavily on muscle memory to get me through this. I haven’t had to fight or use a weapon against someone in a very long time, so actually training again is…interesting. At some points I briefly get excited when I recognize the preparation of a move from my opponent or when I guess their next move correctly. But those moments aren’t very common and honestly they feel more like deja vu than getting a question right on a quiz.

Across from me Tarquin is braced and ready for any possible oncoming attacks on my end, not that any are coming, I’ve sort of forced myself into defensive to the point I’m not sure I’d ever let myself try anything offensive for fear of making a fool of myself. Thank the cauldron Tarquin doesn’t seem to mind though.

We circle each other. While I eye him warily he simply looks at me with amusement. I suspect we both think a child could fight better than I am. Sighing I go back into a defensive stance, this is starting to tire me out more than yesterday.

“You’re not even going to try to attack me once?” Tarquin teases, making me scowl. By the gods this makes me think of Achlys again. We’d both mock and tease each other when training together, pissing each other off endlessly.

“Maybe some other time Tarquin, besides, didn’t you say you wanted to practice some offensive moves?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yes, well, that was with the hope and assumption that you wouldn’t make me overuse every move I’ve learned. Not once have you attacked me. Since when have you ever been strictly on the defensive?”

“Today. I haven’t had a reason to fight recently, so this feels abnormal to me right now.”

He raises a brow, looking rather amused by something.

“And you think I’ll go easily on you because of that?”

I scowl, an expression that’s probably quite common for me.

“Not at all.”

Tarquin smirks, going in for another jump attack. One arm keeps his midsection protected, the other raised with a sword in hand. I’m already on the edge of the rink, so I angle my body more leftwards and back up, moving along the edge. If he jumps me or hits me hard enough I’ll definitely loose..though right now that isn’t sounding too bad. I’m getting pretty worn out, my breathing is already a little strained and my movements are slowing down, even if by a little, my reaction time is slower too, and I’m sure by now he’s picked up on that. Though he hasn’t bothered to capitalize on it..for some reason.

The attack is followed by a few more, smaller and more controlled ones, ones that require less energy but are still effective, especially when used correctly. His movements are swift, and I actively have to put more effort and energy into dodging than before, a few strikes nearly hit.

Tarquin makes one last move, light glinting off the steel as it narrowly misses the bridge of my nose, instead severing a stray hair halfway. The thin strand falls, but rather than landing on the sandy floor of our little sparring arena, Tarquin catches it, pinching it between two fingers. His smirk grows as he holds it up for us both to see.

“You’re getting slow.”

Sighing, I can only nod. The arm carrying my own sparring sword drops, the blade feels heavy in my hands and I’m all to aware of the sweat dripping down my neck, back, and sides.

“Yes, well, I’m getting tired.” Breathing and speaking are two things I cannot do simultaneously, right now at least. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can even continue after this..goodness, I yield. If you need me-”

“You do not yield.”

“Excuse you?”

He chuckles seeing my expression. But repeats what he said nonetheless.

“You. Do not. Yield.”

I raise a brow, though my annoyance still clear. Huffing I take a step back, or try to. It would be enough for me to technically lose. But Tarquin isn’t having any of it. He grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him and backing up into we’re both in the center of the ring, inches apart. I’m not enjoying the victorious look on his face.

“You are not allowed to yield or leave this ring until you’ve attacked me. And no ‘low effort’ attacks either, I want you to treat me like an actual opponent. Fight me like you would on the battlefield.”

Only then does he back up, going into a defensive stance. I narrow my eyes this time, more from concern and warning.

“I’d really rather not, Tarquin.’

“Just try.”

Exasperated and getting pretty foul mooded, I back up. He looks confused for a moment before I charge, running at full speed with my sword pointed right at his chest. He raises his arms higher, twisting his sword to use it as a sort of shield. He moves forward too, planning to take the sword head on, but I move left at the last second, raising the sword to strike him in the head, and then kick him in the knee instead.

He grunts as he almost kneels. Swiftly I kick at his nose, then at his chest, both attempted strikes are blocked by one arm, the other being used to raise his sword and aim a strike. He stabs at my chest, I barely raise my own sword fast enough to block that. I jump back, giving us both space as he stands to his full height and starts to approach, smiling.

It’s his usual smile, the one that’s soft and in any other context would make me think of calming waves and shining pearls. But right now it just puts me more on edge. I wonder if he smiles at his enemies like this before killing them.

Huffing slightly I run at him full speed, keeping my sword and body lowered. At the last second I dodge to the side, spinning just enough to get behind him and kick the back of one of his knees before pressing the sword against his throat, not enough to do any real damage, of course.

He grunts as he lands, using a hand to keep the sword’s edge away from his throat. He must not have been very affected by the attack however, since he’s quick to roll forward, taking me with him. I think I feel my spine crack a few times. I groan as we stop with him and planting of his body weight laying atop of me, specifically my chest. Now I’m taking in even less air. I’ll probably pass out in a minute.

Hissing I put more effort into moving the sword back towards his neck. My arm shakes as he pushes back. While he’s a bit more distracted I raise my legs, high enough to wrap them firmly around his diaphragm, before squeezing like a boa constrictor. This might not work out well for me though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hold his breath longer or be able to last longer without oxygen than the average fae.

He almost tenses up immediately. One hand works on keeping the sword away from his throat, the other works at untangling my legs or at least loosening them enough that he won’t have to fight for air every breath. He’s not giving up fast enough though, so I reach out with my free hand and place opposite his hand on the sword. Twisting the sword in my other hand, I make sure it’s flat against both our palms. Despite wheezing a little, Tarquin manages to chuckle slightly.

“How are you supposed to slit my throat with the sharp edge facing away from me?”

A strangled laugh escapes me, I sound a bit exasperated, desperate too.

“If I get it close enough, strangling you will all be too easy. All I need to do is angle it properly between your neck and jaw.”

He barks a laugh, the sound startling me and I’m temporarily unsure of how to react. Is he ok? Is he pushing himself too far? Do I need to do something? He stops before I can check for any health problems though.

“You nasty, nasty girl.”

“You’re the one who told me to fight like you were my enemy. I don’t necessarily need a quick victory, I just need to win..or lose. Whichever will make you let me leave faster.”

He grunts as I pull the sword closer to his throat, cursing the hand trying to remove my legs switches between hitting my side with the hilt of his sword and with as much force as he can use at the moment, and trying to push the sword away. Each strike to my side feels like fireworks of pain exploding and worsening with each strike. He doesn’t even need to hit me anymore for my whole side to ache and throb, but it’s worse at the main strike point, which would be my bottom rib.

With a rough gasp I tightening my legs around him as much as I can, both legs shaking as I struggle to keep squeezing his diaphragm. It’s paying off though. His breathing has become short, quick gasps that I know aren’t getting him much air. Close, so close to victory. Until I’m not.

His one arm raises again, poised and ready to strike.

“No-”

Pain explodes in my entire side as the hilt of his sword strikes the bottom bone again. I feel a crack, probably the rib fracturing. Lovely. Unfortunately I falter, one hand slipping briefly from the sword, giving him enough time and strength to rip the sword from my hands and toss to the other side of the arena. He hits my fracturing rib again, I hiss, agony and lack of energy causing my legs to loosen, practically flopping to the side as Tarquin quickly unwraps my legs.

I barely notice him turning until it’s too late. Instantly air is whisked from my lungs and I try to inhale, only to meet the resistance that is his weight pressed onto my diaphragm through his knee. The point of his sword presses against the middle of my throat.

Oh if Great Great Grandfather could see me now..I would surely never be able to return home until I floored him in the first 10 seconds. I would be quite the disappointment. I might’ve had an excuse as a child. But not now. I’m fully grown and I’ve already been trained. To think Ulysse was so successful I can barely fight now. Cauldron I might just cry myself to sleep tonight. Coming from a family who takes pride in their strength and ability to defeat others…of course I feel like a weakling now. A failure almost.

Anger boils up inside at the thought. After everything I’ve had to go through to prove myself, to get a peaceful, quiet living, this is what I’ve become? It was really this easy? To defeat me, weaken me, make me give up?

I basically snarl like an animal as a grab a fistful of sand and throw right as his eyes. I don’t give him time to process as he raises a hand to block the sand, possibly get some out of his eyes. I punch him in the throat, then raise a leg to kick him in the crotch before using that leg to shove him away. As he lands, wiping the sand from his eyes, I stand up, marching over to my sword and picking it up. When I turn he’s still keeled over, coughing though. I have to make this quick. It seems we both are going till the other taps out, so I’ll have to force him to. Pressing a blade to his head won’t do that, but almost slitting his throat probably will.

Before he can get up, I stand over him and put the blade in the curve between his jaw and his neck, before carefully pulling up. I don’t actually want to hurt him, but I need him to give up. He almost curses, scrambling to push the blade away, but I don’t let him move it. He’s trying hard not to cough, but it’s clear he’s about to and if he does blood will likely spill..well maybe, I’m not entirely sure how sharp these swords are. Huffing he hits my leg three times.

Sighing with a bit of relief I move the sword away, tossing it to the other side near the stands that hold other practice blades. Moving a few feet away I sit down on some of the steps, wincing as my side throbs again and the pain spasms when I cough a little. Tarquin practically has a coughing fit for a minute, but he’s okay otherwise, thankfully. When that’s done he stands up, takes a few deep breaths, and turns to me.

“Congrats.”

Quietly he walks over, offering a hand. I take it, almost distracted by the contrasting feel of soft yet calloused. He pulls me up into a standing position.

“Ah well, thank you. Though I’m certain you did more damage than me. Much more. So good job for that.”

He frowns at that, eyes instantly going to my side. One hand reaches, about to touch the growing red patch, but I grab his wrist before it can.

“Please don’t. My rib was fractured. I know you’re gentle, but that will still hurt.”

Concern colours his eyes as they flick back up to meet mine.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize- let me take you to the healers.”

He’s quick, I’ll give him that. I can’t form a response fast enough before he’s slipping the hand hovering above my side into my own hand, tugging me towards the exit.

“No- it’s fine, Tarquin. I’ll be fine. Just let me rest and I’ll look after it once I’m more energized.”

Stubbornly though, he shakes his head, pulling me along.

“No. We’re going to the healers. I won’t risk you accidentally harming yourself further by using this chance to practice your abilities more. I trust you know what you’re doing, but I’d rather have you healed immediately than wait for you to do it yourself.”

Sighing I increase my pace to match his, following him as he expertly moves from hallway to hallway in search of the healers wing. Or just healers. I’m assuming there’s a mini-hospital in the castle, but I could be mistaken.

We both fall into a comfortable silence. Him, determined to find a healer and searching. Me, lost in thought as I stare out any windows at the vast sea. The silence is softly broken though when Tarquin asks a question.

“What was that, back there? Do you hate losing?”

I’m quiet for a moment, thinking.

“No..not quite, at least. I- I think it was more just, in my family, strength is something that we were raised to put a lot of pride in. Me and my siblings, we were all raised with the ideal that we couldn’t afford to lose, not even once.”

“Couldn’t afford to lose..what do you mean by that?”

“I suppose a simple way of saying it is that by my family’s standards, loosing means you’re weak. And in a family that values strength highly..well my Great Great Grandfather has a set of standards that, if not met, mean he’ll make you an outcast or just straight up disown you.” I wince at a few memories that pop up. “The Mortis name carries a lot of protection at home..if you’re apart of the family or at least respected, you’re well protected and regular or weaker creatures won’t attack you, you won’t really be challenged. But otherwise..you’re open game.”

Tarquin hums, nodding slightly.

“I see, well. I think it’s a bit foolish to place all your seashells in one basket, if strength is the only thing your family values..then they’re blinding themselves to many other wonderful things, and building up themselves for failure. Or at the very least, a very miserable family. You didn’t need to beat me for me to know that you’re strong, Gyn.”

His words make me smile, the smile growing into a giggle as I grin at him.

“Thank you, for that. I’m sure it could take me a while to fully agree, but I’m at least aware that my Great Great Grandfather should try using more baskets.”

He chuckles, smiling back. We walk for a few more minutes before we arrive at a door labeled ‘Medical’. He knocks, the door swinging open immediately. A fae woman looks between the two of us, then at my side and motions for us to come inside.

Tarquin leads the way until the woman motions for me to sit on a bed. I seat myself on the edge, and she begins her examination.

“Is your side the only place of concern or are there any other injuries I should be made aware of?”

“Only my side, I’m fine otherwise. My rib is fractured, I don’t know how severely though.”

“I see, very well.”

The woman grabs a clipboard, scribbles a few things down before reaching and, quite gently, brushing her fingers across my side. I grit my teeth as fire follows the light touch, exhaling slowly to stop myself from screaming or cursing too much. Both Tarquin and the healer notice the reaction, of course. And the few tears that threaten to spill. Tarquin gives my hand a squeeze, muttering an apology. I just give him a light squeeze back.

“Well, I’m not sure what the cause of this injury was, but your rib is a hair away from being broken. It’s an easy fix, thankfully. Though I will need to touch you to heal you..”

Tarquin’s eyes widen at her statement. I almost chuckle, but instead respond before he can.

“That’s fine, just get it done with, please.”

The healer nods, nimbly she works at healing me. I hiss at the pain, but it lightens up fairly quickly. It only takes her a few moments to heal my side completely.

“There we are. Everything is fine now, you’re good to go.”

I nod, hopping off the bed.

“Thank you, do I need to pay you?-”

“No, I’m a healer that works under the palace, so I have no fees for anyone I heal. I simply heal anyone brought here and get paid at the end of the week.”

“I see. Well thank you.”

She nods, turning and taking her clipboard with her, heading into an office area. I’m about to say goodbye and head to my room, but the guilt ridden expression on Tarquin’s face stops me.

“Are you alright-”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I had nearly broken your rib. Had I known that would happen I probably would’ve just let you go and rest. I probably should have in the first place. I’m-”

“It’s fine Tarquin. You did nothing wrong. You fought me fairly and I just happened to be injured. This isn’t the worst I’ve ever experienced either, so please don’t let this weigh heavily on you. I appreciate that you didn’t bother going easy on me..at least I don’t think you did. I would find it quite insulting if you decided to baby me after insisting I stay to fight.”

He seems slightly less upset, but still feeling guilty. He nods, acting a bit like that was all I needed to say to convince him. Sighing I shake my head. He almost turns to leave, but this time I stop him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

He tenses for a moment, but he returns the hug.

“I’m okay, Tarquin. It’s okay. I strangled you for cauldron’s sake. I should be apologizing to you instead. So please don’t be upset because I got hurt. So did you.”

He sighs, conceding.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll try to…forgive myself I suppose.”

“Thank you, are you busy today?”

“No..I only have one meeting today, thankfully. And that’s just before dinner.”

“Good. Let’s go on a walk. I know you’ll still feel bad or down for a little while, so let’s go on a walk. Clear some of the air. You usually feel better after walks or visits to the beach, right?”

He smiles a little, nodding, letting me push him out of the healers room.

Achlys

The High Lord’s office reminds me of what was my Father’s. A simple yet intricately carved door opening to a spacious area meant for greeting or waiting with two couches facing each other with comfortable and soft pillows placed in the corner between cushion and arm. Then a few small steps that lead into a sort of study area. Both walls lined with bookshelves, two long tables placed two feet away with several cushioned chairs placed around them. Papers, books, quills, and ink pots line the tables too. And then there a few more small steps, leading up to where the High Lord sits, waiting or writing and signing away behind a fancy or elaborate desk that likely has a few hidden compartments for secret or important documents.

I suspect that an important part of the design is intimidation and condescension. I can remember a few times where the long walk from the door to the desk was nerve wracking, all the while my Father wouldn’t even spare me a glance, and I hated how it felt like he was superior and above me, that I wasn’t worth his time, but those rotten documents always were. Just like how he tried to make my baby sister the same, making her sign dozens of practice sheets everyday since she turned 12, and scolding her when she tried to get her work done faster, claiming she wasn’t even reading the pages, that she was making herself to become a poor High Lady.

I work to quiet down the building anger. Snapping at a High Lord has never really done me any favours. And it’s not even like Eris is the one who’s made my sister slave away at a desk for hours on end.

Sighing, I step into the High Lord’s office. It’s warm, probably from the fireplace near his desk that burns away.

Eris looks up from the pages in front of him, placing his quill down. He beckons me forward, waiting patiently while I walk forward. It takes a moment for me to finally reach the desk and sit down in one of the seats placed in front of the desk.

His amber eyes track me the whole way, following me like a predator would when they’re not sure whether they’re stalking prey or another predator. He doesn’t appear tense, but he’s also not relaxed in any sort of way. I’m sure I am only another dangerous problem that has made itself known.

We both stay quiet for a moment, waiting to see if the other will speak first all while staring each other down in silent scrutiny. I decide I’ll be the first to speak.

“You called, High Lord?”

The barest hint of frown. The barest hint of amusement.

“You’ve made me curious. Your family has always brought me fascination, and it is easy to recognize that your siblings would be incredibly helpful to me, and you would be more comfortable if you were all here.”

I don’t bother hiding the disgusted frown that grows on my face. Sure, it would be nicer if we were all together again, but it would be even better if we were together away from this place, outside of the hellish Autumn Court.

“We won’t be your slaves, High Lord. Nor will we ever be. No Mortis ever bows before anyone else. While a reunion would be nice, don’t expect my siblings servitude as a returning favour.”

He chuckles quietly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you’re smart, and something tells me that you already have a few guesses as to where your siblings have been placed.” He hums, “I’m going to assume you know you have nothing in Prythian. You can threaten me all you like, but we both know for the time being they are nothing but empty, dangerous words. So let me extend a hand. You tell me about your sister and brother, and in return I will send letters to the High Lords on your behalf. Does that seem fair.”

The disgust melts into a suspicion that does well to disguise itself. I can feel the muscles in my face relax away back into the neutral mask every High Sovereign’s child has become intimately familiar with. My gut tightens though, a sense of unease washing over me like a filthy water that makes you itch to bathe.

“That’s..quite generous of you. Why make such an offer? It seems like you have quite the disadvantage in this deal. Only receiving information and finding my siblings for me in return? I have no doubts you have something else planned. Something that requires that information.”

“Not at all.” He shrugs, “I’m merely curious about your family.”

He smirks, glad I haven’t seen the full picture yet.

“But I’m also playing the long game here. In the end that information can play key roles for me in getting what I want, and I’ll have the satisfaction of having more information as the middle man or messenger. You will never know if I have more information on your siblings, their conditions, and their whereabouts and you’ll have to trust that I’ll share that info with you when I receive it. But, if you decide that you won’t take the deal, you’ll need to collect the information yourself and I’ll willing to bet that you’d rather take the quicker route and find them faster.”

This is a familiar feeling to that of being locked in a chess match against my cousin, Melchor. He’s intelligent in a way that he can trick you into making moves that only benefit him all while making you think it was the better move. Subconscious trickery. But Eris has revealed some of his hand. Nothing too important of course, he’s only given me a slight hint at his intentions and personality in the wad of information I could’ve guessed on my own. It almost feels like a battle of wits.

“Let’s say I do take the deal. Realistically, there isn’t any guarantee that the High Lords will respond in the first place, nor is there any real guarantee that they will respond truthfully. If they’re smart, they, like you, will know or realize how much of an asset my siblings are. And if they’re as scheming and cunning as when we were younger, we’ll be nothing but bargaining pieces for them.”

“That is, assuming, that all our High Lords are in fact the cunning, cruel creatures that made the High Lords when you were younger. Like my Great Great Great Grandfather, Eldmar.”

I almost shudder at the name. I remember Eldmar, quite well actually. He left quite the impression. He had a regal and authoritative presence and he was quite a clever man. You never knew what he was thinking, and he was always able to control any conversation or negotiation he was a part of, always in his favour of course. He was scary in how strategic he was. It was always odd, being around him. I recognized that I was the more powerful one, and yet I genuinely felt like I was outclassed when I was near him, that I was the weaker one.

“And are they? Like their ancestors? Or are have things changed that much already?”

His eyes narrow slightly, an amused twinkle in his eyes. They haven’t changed that much at all then.

“Some..are different than what you might expect. But I suspect that is because of different circumstances. Most aren’t that much different though, so I can’t say your suspicion is miss placed. How about you just tell me where you suspect they are, and I’ll tell you what their chances are with that Court’s particular High Lord. And I’ll still send letters.”

“Or you could just tell me about the different High Lords that rule today.”

“No. Either you tell me your suspicions and about your siblings, or I let you go about your own research. And I won’t provide you any aid in that case.”

I roll my eyes, but consider the different pros and cons. He’s only asking for information, information he plans to use later on for his own goals. Though his terminology was vague enough where if I agree, I’ll be saying I’ll give any information on my siblings that he requests. But..he’ll also contact other Courts and try to find my siblings. If I went out on my own and went searching for my own answers, I would have a much harder time. I have nothing tying my to Prythian, so getting a job would be difficult or earning any money. I could be perceived as a threat and treated as such if I ever approached any High Lord. I have nothing. But he has something and is offering some of his resources. Groaning I make my choice.

“Fine. Our cousin hated us dearly and I’m going assume placed in locations that played on some of our biggest fears. I hate caves and my prison was placed inside one. My sister is terrified of deep waters, so he’s likely placed her prison somewhere with lots of deep water. Likely the Summer Court. Lyphon hates being buried alive, so somewhere where it wouldn’t be difficult to move a lot of dirt. My best guesses are Spring, Day, and Dawn.”

Eris considers the information, nodding slowly before moving his papers aside and grabbing blank pages and placing them in front of himself.

“I’ll send a letter to Summer. And one to Spring as a starter. We’ll wait for the replies and proceed from there.”

The sound of a quill writing away fills in the silence. I read each word and line as they’re written, following without problem. Reading upside down is something I learned when I was still young. It’s quite handy.

---

High Lord Tarquin,

There isn’t a chance that you have a female by the name of Gyn Mortis under your care at the moment, is there? Or a large, strange prison somewhere deep in the waters that surround your Court? Recently I’ve found one such prison in my Court, it’s prisoner making me quite curious. I wish to find his two other siblings that have also been imprisoned. He has informed me that he suspects his sister resides in your Court at the moment. Should she ask which brother is in my Court, simply answer her elder brother. Do lend a helping hand and bring this family back together?

—High Lord Eris

---

High Lord Tamlin,

How does Spring fare? Recently a strange prison was found in Autumn and the prison had made me quite curious. It is in my interests to help in finding his two other siblings. He has informed me that he suspects his younger brother, Lyphon, could be potentially be found in your Court. Should you find or have found him, please contact me.

—High Lord Eris

---

Once the letters are written and sealed, ready to be sent, he places aside for later, returning his attention to me.

“So then, tell me about your family. Your sister and brother, preferably.”

“What exactly do you want to know? Anything?”

He smiles softly, the smile disappearing quickly.

“Anything. Indulge my curiosity.”

“If you’re really so desperate. Tell me what you already know so I don’t waste either of our time.”

He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair while he toys with a quill, spinning it between his fingers as a drop of ink threatens to spill.

“My my, so spoiled and demanding. I don’t know intimate details, only history and impressions about someone based on the writings of the author. I’ve studied the various wars your family was apart of. I’ve gone through all the records my family has about anything that involved your family or Court.”

“And what have you learned about us? You’re smart, I’m sure you’ve already read between the lines.”

A small, prideful smirk grows on his face. He’s glad someone’s finally noticed, I’m sure. Eager to brag or maybe he’s just glad someone finally hasn’t underestimated him. If there is one thing I’ve learned about Autumn, never underestimate a Vanserra, especially ones that parade themselves as weaker or uninterested. Not that Eris checks those boxes, but still. New High Lords are always underestimated and yet to earn the respect of their fathers or forefathers. An unfortunate thing, but it comes with the presumed lack of experience. Observation and experience can be two very different things at times.

“Your family seems oddly peaceful for one that presents itself as violent and threatening. I’ll guess your patriarch is quite selective in what your family gets themselves involved in. All things considered he might even have some morals.”

I snort at the comment. Oh if only he knew or met our oh so wonderful Great Great Grandfather.

“He’s never had morals. He does things when he gets bored or because he gets irritated. He doesn’t do things for ‘good’. Gyn and Lyphon have morals, maybe not as many as some, but more than most in my family.” I don’t stop my snicker, “take a war over freeing slaves. The Knight would fight to stop the annoyance of begging for help and freedom. It could go either way, he would slaughter for either side. Gyn would fight for their freedom. I would simply offer to kill them all, free them that way. And well..Lyphon would probably use everyone’s bodies to help him fight.”

I laugh, quite loudly actually, but it’s true. Lyphon never spared a corpse, if it was available and not too badly damaged it could help him.

“Though, he would likely follow Gyn, he’s like a sheep or a puppy in that case. He looks to her for help and guidance at times. They always connected well, and Gyn was determined to be a good older sister, make life less miserable.”

Eris quirks a brow but hums, spinning the quill the opposite direction now.

“Interesting. I was under the impression that your family had a strict hierarchy, that you all looked to and obeyed your Great Great Grandfather.”

There’s a dark chuckle from me.

“Not necessarily. Pops rarely appears and even more rarely reclaims the control he’s generously given to some of his descendants. There is, I suppose, an hierarchy of sorts. It’s mostly based on power and the relations we have to The Knight. For a while now Gyn and I were considered 2nd in commands, we didn’t rule the Court, naturally. But we were given respect and power for being successful results of selective breeding and proving to be quite useful.

“I’m liked for my obedience because I’ve never had a problem with the orders given. Gyn, on the other hand, can be too timid to speak up against our Great Great Grandfather. So she’s subtle in the ways she defies him. Fighting in wars, but sparing those who wish for peace, and offering them a home, though in a different form. But Pops loves Gyn, so he never punished her. In fact he took interest and praised her for her knowledge in biology and her strength. That being said, we are family you know, not sheep. We only obey as often as we do because we trust Pops’ judgement. He’s never been wrong.”

Eris narrows his eyes slightly, a look of consideration and realization on his face.

“You sound like you trust each other a lot…not quite something I’ve heard of from a High Lord’s family. Usually, from my experience, most High Lord’s and their families aren’t usually on good terms with each other. But it sounds like you might just have..a decent family.”

I frown slightly at that. It’s true, most High Lord’s families I’ve met could be compared more to a den of wolves that have been starved a few days. Or snakes. Something nasty that’s thirsty for blood, rich with envy, and hungry for power that they may or may not use correctly. That being said, my family isn’t all that much better.

“I’m not sure I can agree with you, on that point. We may trust each other for certain things, but we’re as ugly as the rest. Look at me and my siblings. Ripped from our beds by a traitorous cousin and shoved into metal boxes that leeches power from you until you’ve been freed before being tossed into places where he hopes we won’t be found. There is no shortage of hatred, fear, and blood in our family.”

The confession shouldn’t give away too much information, and I don’t believe it can really be used against us. It might sound like it could be easy to sway someone in our family into betraying and killing off family members or imprisoning them. But Pops is quite..meticulous in his control of the family and its members.

An entire tradition has been made out of him rooting out anyone he finds don’t meet his standards. His word is law in the family and if he judges you to be worthless in the family, then you’ll be removed. Countless cousins, aunts, uncles all killed or banished because they’re too weak or useless. Our family is more comparable to a unit in the army than a proper family, I think. Some of us are close, but usually it’s a relationship and bond built up over the years, not something you feel or recognize naturally. Sometimes it just feels like we’re dolls in a doll house, and Pops is the master that controls us.

The door of the office opens and we both turn to see who’s entered. It’s a servant, carrying a silver tray with a tea pot, two tea cups, and some small dishes and utensils for anything we might want to add.

Eris gestures for the servant to approach. They’re quick and quiet as they approach and place the tray on the desk between us where no papers are. They’re just as quick to leave. Reaching forwards Eris takes one of the cups, pouring himself a drink.

“Feel free to refresh yourself with a drink. I don’t imagine this conversation will be over for a little while..”

I hum, reaching forwards to pour myself a drink.

“Maybe not.”

~~~

Thank you for reading and for your patience. Writer's block sucks. Enjoy your day/night.

~~~

Btw, this fanfic is available on Quotev and AO3.

Halle 👋

Dear friends around the world,

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