Young Writers Society

2070(ish) words; for TLMS contest, week two

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The family’s portrait behind the black curtains overlooked the dining room, the late king seeming to watch over his family’s meals. For the young guards standing by each of two doors, it appeared to be hard to stop glancing at the picture. Through the thin fabric of darkness, one could still see the pale faces and rich clothing, telling the story of a history of losses. The picture was covered in black whenever a family member would die - the last time five years ago, although the crown prince’s wife was never drawn next to his still young figure - and a dark purple veil would be hung over it whenever the Labyrinth would take another of the king’s children.

Too many times.

Devin frowned at the wine in his cup, and his own reflection in it. He looked tired; more tired than he expected, with dark bags under his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead, which refused to go away even as he tried to relax his face. Even his body seemed tired, fingers ignoring his attempts to make them hold the cutlery, his hands barely able to coordinately move a knife and a fork.

Taking a sip of the wine, mostly so he would no longer have to stare at himself in the mirror of dark red liquid, he stole a glance towards Sandor. His older brother, although they had traveled all the way from the Mereth fortress together, seemed as fresh as ever, not for a moment breaking his always perfect posture.

He traveled in a carriage and probably slept through every available moment, Devin reminded himself. You traveled on a horse and kept your guard by the king’s body for two nights. He probably has nothing to still be sore of.

Turning his head around, he let his eyes slide over his siblings. It was the first time in five years - since Deena died and Ananna was born - that he could see them all together. Maybe it was the presence of food, more than anyone had appetite for, or the soft pounding of the rain on the windows, but looking at them like that, Devin almost felt like a part of a loving family.

His oldest brother sat right to Mother, his back hunched slightly as he leaned towards her chair to hear her whispered words. Erion’s expression stayed as stone as ever as he kept nodding in agreement, but his eyes kept flickering towards his daughter. Devin smiled slightly as he turned his gaze to Ananna as well; sitting next to her father, the little princess seemed the only one untouched by the death of her grandfather.

She’s a child. The longer she manages to stay carefree, the brighter our kingdom’s future will probably be. Gods know that not one of us of got to stay a child very long.

He sighed silently as his eyes skimmed over Sandor again, once more wondering if it was possible the second king’s son had a gift of magic that helped him to never look his age. He shoved away the thought - hiding magic was impossible, especially for a figure as public as one of the princes. And even if it was possible, Devin was ready to bet his sword on his brother’s inability to hide any speck of power that’d make him stronger than Erion.

“Are you alright?” His sister’s touch pulled him out of thoughts, the sight of her hand on his making him smile for the first time in what felt like centuries. He squeezed it shortly in an answer, turning to her.

As if looking into a mirror, he thought to himself, but then corrected his mind; as if looking at my reflection in water or a crystal. So similar, yet undeniably, almost unreally different.

“I’m just tired,” he muttered, meeting Lenore’s eyes. They were the exact shade of grey as his own - though hers lacked the dark bags under them - under carefully crafted eyebrows and with that calm expression which made him feel safe and everyone else feel alerted.

“I know,” she replied, pulling her hand from his to take a bite of fish from her plate. He observed her, feeling his mood turning lighter. Unlike on anyone else, his twin always seemed to have that effect on him, as if there was something about her presence that made him feel less tired - both physically and mentally. He had nearly forgotten how it felt, in the seven months he hasn’t seen her.

He opened his mouth to ask her what life’s been like in Goldencourt and whether Hedril’s been taking good care of her - whether she’s been taking care of him, even more - when the queen’s words cut his thoughts. He reached for his glass again before looking at her.

“It’s time to hold a proper coronation,” she said. All the heads turned to her, except for Erion’s. The crown prince kept observing his soup darkly, ignoring the way Sandor’s head turned to him and the way Iluan’s eyes darted from him to their mother.

“Father never named the heir,” the count noticed. Devin felt himself frowning a little. As a knight, sworn to his older brother and the rest of the family just like the king’s illegitimate son, he had given up on royal title and heirloom, knowing well enough his place in the line of succession is at least five deaths away - considering Ethian never gets legitimised, their mother doesn’t object and none of his other older siblings has a child. And yet, the king’s words about the crown planted a seed of wonder in his mind. He never imagined himself on the throne, preferring the weight of sword over that of a crown - but out of five remaining children, he was the only one who still seemed to care about the family, and it was so easy - easier than he dared to let himself think - to imagine his father bestowing the title to him.

Stop thinking that way.

“It’s been three days since your father’s funeral,” Devin got out of his thoughts just in time to hear his mother say. “It’s time.”

“I’ve been here three days too long,” Iluan noticed. The queen sighed silently, giving him one of her held-back smiles.

“One would think you’d be as glad to see your family as it is to see you,” she said.

Iluan smirked. “One would think this family would think of visiting me if I was so missed.” He raised his glass. “Once in four years would’ve done the trick.” Devin narrowed his eyes at him. It was hard to tell with Iluan, and his voice told nothing of his true feelings, but for a moment his words made Devin wonder if the count was admitting to being hurt and asking for an apology.

“Drakefort is barely two miles away from the ocean border of the Labyrinth,” Erion said calmly, seeming somewhat detached from the conversation. “You’ll forgive the bluntness, but I doubt your loneliness is our primal concern at the moment. Father hasn’t named the heir, but rules of succession are as clear as ever. There must be coronation, and there must be a king. Unless the fall of Naavia is already in your interest, Iluan, I take it you will agree.”

Devin tried to imagine living there as his brother turned silent again, everyone’s eyes resting on Iluan. Being so close to the Labyrinth must’ve been frightening. Knowing everything was surrounded by it, even if one never caught a glimpse of its shadowed entrances, was enough to make a person scared and uncomfortable - seeing the mists across the ocean as he’d look out of the window, knowing just over there the sea would change colour and lead him into something different from the world he knows, was something Devin didn’t quite want to keep imagining.

“Fall of Naavia is not in my interest, and I see no reason why it would ever be,” Iluan said finally. “As I already said a couple of days ago, I am not marrying the Emperor. Stop trying so hard to present me as an enemy, that was Father’s game.” He leaned back, taking his drink again. “I agree, you should get your crown.” He took a sip of wine. “Ah. And it’s less than two miles away now, but I suppose that is just a technicality.”

No one said a word, dark thoughts clouding their expressions; same dark thoughts that ran through Devin’s mind.

The Labyrinth is getting closer again… How is it that silence of this family seems so much heavier than any other?

Even the little princess’s eyes seemed scared, wide and light under thin curled eyebrows, as she turned to her father as if asking for comfort without a word.

“It’s moving,” Sandor said finally. “Do we know if there’s anything that made it move, after staying still for years?”

“Maybe it’s getting hungry,” Lenore muttered, taking a piece of potato and smirking slightly as she glanced at Sandor over it. “I highly doubt moving is the right way to put it… What use would it have of moving? It’s obviously growing, meaning something is probably making it grow.”

Devin turned to her. “The way you put it, it sounds like you also have an idea what it is.”

“I don’t.” She shrugged. “But everything needs to feed in order to grow, isn’t it so? Whatever it’s using to grow…”

“...it’ll want more of it.” Devin rubbed his temples. “Brilliant…”

“I don’t like this story,” Ananna mumbled, cowering a bit in her chair and glancing at her father again. Looking back at her, Erion nodded slowly.

“I don’t like it either.” He turned to his siblings again. “But it’s irrelevant. There is nothing we can do about it now. A small group of my scouts will accompany you on your way back to Drakefort. Furthermore, Lenore… Will you be going back to Goldencourt?” He turned to her and she met his eyes with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Or rather, have you considered staying here instead, or accompanying Sandor and Devin to Mereth?”

Devin’s heart beat faster for a moment, as he imagined Lenore coming with him. Hedril would surely come with her - he was her guardian and best friend, Devin remembered him being there when they were kids almost as often as the twins themselves would be together.

And we’d get to meet again…

“I’ve considered it, yes,” Lenore said then, her tone as uninterested as always. "I've decided against it." She pointed her fork at Erion, shrugging in reply to her mother’s scowl. “However hard it seems to imagine anything more boring than Goldencourt, I’m afraid both sitting around in Mereth and wandering around here falls under that category.”

*

With a deep sigh - first one he’d allowed himself since his father died - Devin took off his shirt and belt, putting his sword aside, and bent over the washing basin. He let the water cool his hands for a long moment, before drawing his fingers through his hair. He was tired. Unusually, unbearably so, and there was nothing he could do about it. Ever since they arrived, he’d barely slept, turning in his bed until the covers would fall to the floor and then spending the rest of the night sitting by the window and observing the stars.

He missed Mereth already. Not because it was more beautiful than the castle, or because there was anyone waiting for him there, but it was only in Mereth that he could have his peace.

Although I do miss two people to share that peace with.

He sighed once more, splashing water over his face again and then walked over to the window, taking a candle on his way. Opening the window, he let his mind wander, looking at the sun setting behind the mountains. Somewhere behind those mountains, up to the Northeast, lay his fortress, barely a few miles away from the Ladymoon’s Swamps. He wondered if the mists over them still looked as golden as he remembered them from childhood, as he narrowed his eyes at the setting sun. It painted the edges of the forest in fire, only for a short couple of minutes before disappearing behind the cliffs.

Devin only had a moment to smile - then a gloved hand clasped tightly over his mouth, another gripping his wrist, and a soft blow over his shoulder extinguished the flame.

***