I was a handsome little thing, or so my father reluctantly told me once. I had been born with a thick mop of ebony black hair, green eyes, and I had cried very little. I was the perfect son.
My mother was eighteen years old when I was born and she spoiled me more than was decent in those days. I don’t know why, but I never grew to become a jealous and spoiled child as many had predicted. Despite all this my father had never been satisfied with me. I sometimes wonder if there was even a time when he had ever loved me, a time before the day my world turned upside down and the only thing he felt for me was disappointment.
I was two years old when my sister Daldiana came along, and the two of us instantly bonded; inseparable for life. We did everything together. We made mud pies alongside the riverbed, learned to read by teaching each other, we even caught one of the Mini Dragons once and after contemplating our grumbling stomachs decided to eat her, before Mother came and rescued the poor squawking thing.
My mother was kind to Daldiana but her over-spoiling with me had all but exhausted her, so there was little left to go around and Daldiana was treated like any other girl child on the Moorlands.
When my next sister Zora was born I was five. We all knew she would be a problem child from day one. She almost constantly cried and wanted to be fussed over, demanding to be held every hour of the day or else wise would scream bloody murder. More than once our neighbors had visited us, concerned we were mistreating her. This wore my poor mother out quickly and she was thin and almost sickly a year later when she gave birth to my third sister Farah.
By now my father was fed up. Was I the only son he would ever have to be able to help him in the fields and run the small farm? We all looked exactly like our mother; obsidian black hair and pale features. We were tall and fine boned. For me that was bad, my father deemed me weak, hardly worthy to push a plow. He took great pleasure in mocking my features and had even gone so far as to tell me that if I grew my hair out really long the king would mistake me for a girl and come and sweep me away to marry his son.
My mother cared for all of us the best she could but she was weak and stayed indoors most of the time. Poor Farah was practically raised by the neighbors who took pity on our girl laden family of no wealth. They were the Bakers’ family and relatively poor, yet had three sons. They probably hoped that by taking care of baby Farah they would have first rights on marriage to my three sisters.
Time seemed to pass slowly back then. I was six years old when I first started attending our local run-down dueling academy. Our family was too poor to afford any of the girls an education so mother taught them the best she was able at our home. The dueling academy became my life, it gave me purpose and a secret dream of something beyond the secluded Moorlands and our small farm.
It was a normal day at the academy; I was near the back of the class room, being poked in the ribs with a wooden sword by Karl Wreeds. He was a big bully of a boy who could wield a sword no better than he could lace his boots, which were always falling off, meaning that in his anger he would throw them at someone; normally me. Mistress Angela was in the middle of a sword demonstration using a full length sword that had been crafted with a sparkling jeweled hilt and gold plating.
The woman was tall and strong and though she was older than fifty, her bright eyes and sharp features were as demanding as ever and we rarely messed with her. She was just about to retrieve the wooden swords she’d passed out earlier when Mrs. Baker unexpectedly made an appearance. She whispered excitedly to the teacher before hurrying towards me. Then, to my pleasure, she grabbed the wooden instrument from Karl and popped the chubby boy on the head with it. She took me by the hand and dragged me out quickly.
I’ll remember that day vividly for the rest of my life.
Two shaggy grey unicorns pulled the carriage that Mrs. Baker had driven to the school. The afternoon was bright with summer and the birdsong filled the glades on either side of the road with a dream-like melody. The heavy-set woman glanced over at me and smiled. “We’re going home to see your new brother.”
I’d never heard that word in my entire life, but still, I knew exactly what it meant. It meant that the little worth my father had placed on my head was gone. It meant that I would be treated with even more contempt than before. It meant that my life had just gotten worse, if that was possible.
I had never felt so much fear or dread in my whole eight years of existence. I knew life would never be the same. I envisioned a little scrap of a thing, a black mat of hair plastered to his skull and skin so white it was see through, the best my poor sick mother could offer her child.
I jumped from the carriage as soon as we reached our front gate, and raced into the living room the second my feet touched the ground. I ended up knocking over a chair in my haste as I ran to my mother’s bedroom and I stumbled forward as it crashed to the floor behind me.
Mother was sitting up looking paler than ever as she held a large bundle of cloth close to her bosom. All three of my sisters sat around her, wide eyed and mystified. She lowered her arms at my touch so I could peer into the bundle and I gasped. I had thought the baby might be sickly but not diseased. He had fleshy pink skin and looked puffy; I was too naive to know this was how all healthy babies should appear.
“W-what’s wrong with him?” I questioned innocently.
My Father almost shouted at me as he leapt from his chair. “What do you mean what’s wrong with him? He’s a perfect baby. A son,” he growled, his anger hurting me deeply. How was I supposed to know? I glanced back at the tubby thing and poked his cheek.
“Why’s he bloated?” I asked, mystified at the baby’s plump flesh. My Mother smiled and made a motion to my beet red Father to sit back down.
“Honey, he’s just well fed, he’s got a little meat on his bones. There is nothing wrong with him. He’s perfectly fine.” She spoke softly trying not to disturb the sleeping baby but the tone in her voice confused me. The disgust and the mild hatred there, it was not the way one spoke of a new child. Little did I know the horrifying truth behind the creature she held in her arms.
I sighed in wonder. All my sisters had been mere skeletons when born and the little flesh that clung to them now was well earned. Why had this baby been blessed to have been born having so much health? He looked alien, his rich dragon burnt-as father called it-skin and pale blond hair which twisted in curly locks on his small head; the identical of my father. Earl was the son he had always secretly longed for.
And that day, any part of me my father had held dear disappeared and in his mind I was just as good as the indentured servant we had around the house.
“You were born at midnight, my dear children, a time when magic is at its most powerful. Being twins is another aspect that will provide you great power later in your lives. Let us not forget that your father and I were the most powerful magic bearers alive.” Mother smiled and bumped my hanging lip, causing me to quickly shut my gaping mouth.
“Go on! I want to hear the rest of it, please?” My sister shook her dark curly hair as she squirmed impatiently in her seat.
“All right,” my mother complied with a laugh. “Something else I want you to know is that your father was an evil man, camouflaged as a humble Mage. I did not know this until after you were born. He wanted a son and the anger he felt when he saw me holding you two girls was infinite. His rage was so great he caused a huge storm to arise, so powerful the whole universe was impacted. In fear for our lives I gathered you two and transported us all here into hiding.
“You two processed a powerful and deep magic. I could feel it’s presence within you from the day you were born. It’s why I have you wear these.” She reached over and touched Savy’s earring which gleamed in the sunlight. “They are magic inhibitors and control your own power so you don’t hurt yourself or someone else by accident.”
I fingered my own earring and sighed, watching with longing as Mother smiled at Savy, her green eyes shining merrily. It wasn’t fair that the two looked so similar. I felt almost excluded with my pale complexion and long white hair. The only nice feature I had were my crystalline blue eyes. Even at nine years of age I was almost as tall my mother.
“That’s enough for now, girls. Why don’t you run along and play?” Mother clapped her hands urging us to our feet.
We both whined a little, before fleeing the house to romp out in the woods and turn frogs into miniature fairy princes and annoying fairy princes, who only last week had been frogs, back into their proper nature.
“One day we’ll manage to get a handsome one,” my sister stated coldly, before a small puff of smoke appeared and a frog landed heavily in her hands. She looked disgusted, “or not.” She glared at me. “I wish Joshua would come over to play, at least it’s interesting.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t,” I snapped wearily. Joshua was our only playmate and he was nothing more than a self-absorbed brat in my eyes. Savy shrugged and scurried towards the lakeside to capture another slimy frog.
I often bored of these petty games and longed for the friendship of other children. I rose and left Savy to her works, then crept back to the little ramshackle hut. I spied through a small knot hole and was surprised to see my mother knotting her hair as she sat sweating in a chair, her head thrown back and a piece of paper clutched tightly in her short fingers.
I sat down in the grass and daydreamed, knowing I should not bother her when she was in such a mood. I lazily chewed a blade of grass and looked up at the clouds as I took myself back to yesterday.
It had been such a wonderful day. Savy and I had followed Mother through the many protective enchantments to the market; a feat which is strictly forbidden for us as we’re not allowed out in public.
It was the greatest day I’d ever experienced in my life. When we had arrived at the streets, we soon found ourselves encircled by a group of village children. I had hardly met anyone my own age and the children fascinated me. Two siblings had bright golden hair and I couldn’t help but ask if they were princes, remembering the gold coins my mother sometimes showed us. Another girl had hair as red as fire and small brown markings covered her body. I avoided going too close to her, unsure if the brown flecks were contagious. The group brought us down to the river where we’d stripped down to our peasant undergarments and swam in the warm river.
When we’d finally dried ourselves in the blistering afternoon sun we’d decided to return back to the market square and locate our mother. We had draped our shawls over our shoulders and pulled on our skirts. Our bear arms and faces showed and we beamed in the warm afternoon sunlight, what an adventure it had been!
I remember him well, with his sickly tight skin and dark eye, and his funny suit of purple and yellow, the colors of our King. His lips had curled into a long cruel smile as he beckoned to me. When his finger curled a second time, urging me toward him, I ran. Savy followed closely and by luck we saw the tattered cape of our mother who had finally decided to return home. Her hood was down yet luckily she took no notice of us.
The man had pursued us but had stopped dead in his tracks when he’d seen our mother. A look of astonishment crossed his face as he made the connection of mother-daughter and Savy blew him a loud raspberry.
Mother luckily never caught sight of us as we’d hurried home after her. Savy and I had spoken of the trip throughout the night and had decided to chance it again next market day.
I left my daydreaming when I heard Mother calling our names and hurried around the small house to face her. Savy bumped into me as she skidded to a halt behind me and I shoved her backwards playfully.
“You two go get cleaned up, we’re leaving.” Her voice was taught with worry but she left explanations at that and vanished into her bedroom. Savy always got to use the restroom first; it was sort of in our peck order so I didn’t mind. I glanced at my filthy bare feet and sighed.
I decided to wait in the cushion-lined wooden chair for my turn and hastened over to it. As I approached the chair, I saw the wrinkled white piece of parchment that had so disturbed my mother earlier. I picked it up and unfolded the tightly crumpled wad. Sitting down I slowly began to read.
Dear Miss Katharine,
It so happens that I have been searching this land for a proper spouse for my ten-year-old prince. I do not expect him to marry until later, but a person as important as yourself must realize things like this take years to plan and I knew I had best get started.
One of my ministers was searching your small marketplace yesterday and so happened to see your two daughters. My dearest Katharine, secrets can’t be kept forever now can they? But you had us all mystified by your nine years of absence. Now I know why. You had children . . .
You are a foolish woman, Katharine. Do you not know that you can’t protect your children forever? I however, can. This is what I propose: Your children are sent here and are raised at the castle under the finest tutors in the land. In nine or ten years they can be married to my son, one at least. The other will be married off to a different country to complete an allegiance. This is the best option, Katharine. You of all people know how rebellious a young Witch can become. Here at the palace, there are no chances of that.
After all this being said, I know you too well to think that you will just agree and bring them to me as is best. No, you will attempt to hide. Ha, Katharine. Do you think me that stupid? Your children are mine. By the time you’re reading this I will be but moments away from your hut.
My Regards,
King Dimitri
P.S. Whom did you go and marry after rejecting my own proposal, may I ask?
I wasn’t the best of readers but I got the point. How much time did we have? Why hadn’t our mother gotten us out of here the second she’d read this? That’s when I heard the heavy footsteps on the gravel outside and then the deafening knock on our frail front door, causing it to tremble.
“Girls!” my mother screamed from her bedroom and Savy burst from the restroom. Together we charged the bedroom door but it was locked.
“Babies? Close your eyes. I promise everything will be all right.” My mother’s voice shook but Savy and I obeyed. We clung tightly to one another and squeezed our eyes tightly shut. The door of our mother’s bedroom flew open simultaneously with the front door. This created a strong magical current to stir and it forced my sealed eyelids open, allowing me to see the scene set before me.
My mother’s huge green eyes grew wider as she sent the man standing in the doorway flying by some unspoken magic. I again shut my eyes and the next second a bright light shown through my closed lids and pain erupted from the core of my body as the spell my mother cast went horribly wrong.
People were screaming and shouting. I heard my own scream and felt Savy’s terrified wail pass my ears as I fell to my knees, never to rise again. I tried to escape the horrible pain but it was no use. My forehead felt as if it split open and my nine-year-old body died and disappeared from this world, never to be seen again.
