Fading Fairytales - Chapter One

For another moment, the mountains were peaceful. Then as if on cue, a lone horseman appeared in the horizon, staying still in the darkness yet untouched by the rising sun, as if waiting politely to be spotted. He kept perfectly still, a silhouette only visible because the sky behind him had already turned from black to dark blue, until the horn called.

Standing on the top of the long set of stairs leading down to the main gate, Ethian observed without a word and counted to himself.

Two blows as the question, two in answer.

He straightened his tunic, his fingers brushing against the cold brass of the needle over his heart - blue and silver on spotlessly white fabric - before allowing himself a tiny smile. Contrary to everyone’s predictions, the Count did come.

Ethian watched as the rider gestured to someone behind him, and then slowly walked down the stairs as a carriage appeared in sight, reaching the gates moments before the guests did. Ethian’s brows furrowed at the silver dragon curled around the tree in the family’s coat of arms on the side of the carriage, as it approached the gates, but he only got a moment to observe it before the carriage’s door opened. As soon as the first leather boot stepped on the castle’s ground, he felt his lips curling a wide smile; the young man leaving the carriage was home again, and he hasn’t changed in years. From blackness of his clothes, to thin sword on his hip and mirthless smirk on his lips, not an inch of the Count of Drakefort challenged the memory Ethian had of him. Four years…

“Count Verylle,” he said, bowing his head slightly to greet his guest, fighting with himself to control the childish grin on his face. Appearance can still be deceiving. “Welcome home.”

The younger man’s smirk slowly turned into a somewhat warmer smile as his eyes met Ethian’s. He stepped closer, letting his guard take care of the carriage and observing every inch of his host’s appearance. “Count Verylle, is it now?” He shook his head slightly, offering Ethian his hand. “I’d hoped you haven’t forgotten my first name in four years.”

“Iluan.” Ethian’s hand squeezed his, and he pulled the Count in a hug the next moment. “Welcome home, little brother. I missed you.”

The Count turned serious. “And I missed you, Eth, and my brothers and sisters as well, but this is no longer my home.” He gestured at the dragon around his coat of arms. “Drakefort is, ever since our father made it clear he doesn’t want to see me in the castle again.”

Ethian nodded slightly. Ever since you challenged his authority and got so close to betraying him that he nearly ordered to execute you instead. He let the thought slip unspoken. “I see your…companion…didn’t grace us with her arrival?”

Iluan’s lips curled into that mirthless smirk again. “My companion, the Emperor’s daughter?” He walked towards the castle, his right hand playing with the pommel of his sword. “Please, brother, you know better… If she had graced you with her arrival, Father would raise from his deathbed just to slit her throat and then return to die in peace.”

*

The silence and soft smell of lavender seemed heavy, weighting down on the shoulders of five people around the bed as Ethian and Iluan walked in the King’s bedroom. All five heads turned to them - the Queen’s surprise seemed to be the only one not mixed with anger or confusion upon seeing the Count - but none of them spoke, as both men bowed before walking closer. The man on the bed didn’t move, resting on the pillow in a cloud of silver curls, but piercing grey eyes under heavy eyelids slid over both of his sons, lingering on Iluan’s for a longer moment. They then flickered around the room, stopping shortly at the twins on his right and then turning to the Count again.

“Came to see me die?” He chuckled - a sound so much weaker than Ethian remembered it being from his childhood - and reached for his wife’s hand, his eyes closing for a moment. Neither of the brothers answered. “Are you hoping to take my crown too?”

Iluan frowned, as eyes of the King fluttered open again. “Too, Father?”

The King’s other hand waved in direction of the two men on his left; both dressed in blue and silver, both with their blonde hair tied neatly on the back of their necks, they glanced at each other with narrowed eyes before the slightly shorter one bowed.

“Have no fear, Father,” he said, standing up straight again and tugging at his shirt gently. His eyes, if only a shade darker, met the King’s for a moment, and he gestured at his brother. “The crown belongs to Erion as the Crown Prince, not his year younger brother, I am well aware of that.”

The older prince’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. His eyes rested on the bedsheets, and for a moment Ethian felt bad for him. Out of all the King’s children, the Crown Prince was the last he could imagine on the throne. Six years ago, maybe, back when his wife was alive and four of their youngest siblings weren’t yet taken by the Labyrinth, but now… now all Ethian could see was a shadow of his half-brother, man living and breathing for his little daughter rather than any crown, losing a parent he loved. That won’t stop him from hanging you once he realises you’re a theoretical threat. Ethian bit his lip. As War Chief of Naavia, he never had any interest in wearing the crown himself - yet the blood in his veins, blood of the King, and three years making him older than the Crown Prince, presented him as the legitimate heir to every man, woman and child who disliked the Queen’s legacy.

Their father laughed again, the sound pulling Ethian from his thoughts.

“Ah no,” the King muttered, shaking his head slightly. “No, no no… The crown, my boy, belongs to whomever its owner decides to bestow it to.” His hand squeezed the Queen’s for a moment, and he smiled as his eyes found those of his eldest daughter. His only daughter, Ethian had to remind himself, now… Lenore smiled slightly at their father, but other than that made no move, standing by her twin brother’s side with her hand clasped behind her back.

Ethian could practically feel Iluan’s discomfort as his brother frowned, and it didn’t take a mastermind to understand why; their father was defying the rules of succession, choosing his heir regardless of the age of his children, and that choice would inevitably affect each of the siblings. He glanced at Erion and Sandor, who seemed to be actively avoiding meeting each other’s eyes, and then let his eyes slide to Lenore and Devin for a moment. The twins looked back at him, without a word, and for a moment Ethian could swear what he saw there was a glimpse of fear. Do they think Father would name me the heir? Now, after forty years of denying me legitimisation, do they really think he would change his mind?

“Eol,” the Queen called in her silent singsong voice, turning the attention of everyone back to the King.

“I’m tired,” he murmured, his voice now barely stronger than a whisper. “The Dollmaker took your younger brothers and sisters… The seven of you children, now, you must understand...” He pulled his hand out of the Queen’s, pointing his finger in the general direction of his children. “You must understand. Promise me.”

For a long couple of minutes, there was only silence. The chopped breathing of the King defeated by illness, and soft cracking of woods in the fireplace remained only sounds, as the entire world seemed to be waiting. For more words or for more silence, Ethian couldn’t quite tell.

“There’s six of us,” Iluan noticed then, and Ethian couldn’t help but feel grateful to him to have broken the tension of unspoken words. “Not seven…”

The King’s hand fell down again, and he nodded ever so slightly. “Iluan Verylle… Count of Drakefort.” He let the words sink in for a moment. “Why are you here? The last time I saw you, you said…” He licked his lips, blinking slowly as memories came to him. “‘If I return, I shall return with an army’, you said. ‘I am not leaving as an enemy now, but you will never see me here again.’” His eyes focused on his fourth son. “Where is your army, is it waiting for this charade to be over?”

Ethian felt his body tensing against his will, as he refused to turn to look at his brother. You didn’t see an army, he tried to tell himself, but it was no good. You didn’t expect to see an army.

“There is no army,” Iluan said, and Ethian allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief. “I came on mother’s request,” he glanced at her, “and to see all of you again once more.”

Ethian frowned, but the Crown Prince spoke before he got the chance. “Once more? Are you planning to never return?”

“As much as I’d like to lighten all of your spirits by confirming that, it’s not the matter of me not planning to return…” Iluan sighed, chewing on his lip for a long moment before speaking again. “I’m marrying princess Riralai. We figured it was in place to inform you of that turn of events.”

The room fell silent once again, but this silence wasn’t that of sadness and expectation - it was the silence filled with unspoken words, in which Ethian could almost hear the piercing thoughts directed at his younger brother.

“Princess Riralai,” the King slowly repeated then. “The one who came to us as a spy and tried to kill us all in our sleep, the daughter of the man who wants to take my lands?” He shook his head. “Are you here to speak on his behalf now?”

Iluan frowned, his hands curling into fists for a moment before he caught himself and relaxed again. “I am not marrying the Emperor, Father. And I am not this family’s enemy.”

The king turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, holding his Queen’s hand once more. “If you form a union with her,” he said quietly, “you are no longer a part of this family.”

Stroking her husband’s hand gently, the Queen turned to their son. “Iluan… Can you truly be sure that what you’re doing is right?”

Ethian’s brother frowned, looking at the Queen, and he turned his gaze down on his feet. Iluan said something, but Ethian couldn’t focus enough to pay attention. The Queen’s presence made him nervous, even more so when she was speaking. How can a voice as created for singing lullabies have the strength of the voice of an army general at the same time? Even since they were children, before the twins and younger siblings were even born, just being close to her made him feel somewhat disoriented, forget his words or lose trail of thoughts, even start thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. For a while, he thought it was all because she wasn’t his mother and he was the child of her husband, older than any children she gave him - but eventually he figured it wasn’t just his experience, and that realisation didn’t make him feel any better. The Queen had a way of asking simple questions or just silently stating facts, in that calm voice of hers and never even demanding or ordering anything, and it would keep prodding the mind of anyone listening until they’d do everything she wanted anyway.

“Mother…” Everyone’s attention turned to Lenore as she spoke, but her eyes were locked on the bed, her always calm expression hinting sadness or worry this time. Ethian followed the direction she was looking at, along with all of his brothers, and felt his heart skip a beat.

The King’s gaze rested on his hand, holding the Queen’s loosely, but there was no more focus in his grey eyes. Although everything on him seemed the same as a few minutes ago, from the white robe and sheets to the silvery white curls his once reddish-brown hair turned into, there was no doubt his chest were no longer moving.

Laying on his dark pillows, under the silver and blue tree of the family’s coat of arms and surrounded by his remaining family members, the King was dead. And for some reason, Ethian could imagine the branches of the tree extending from the old tapestry, twirling across the wall and the bedsheets, and tightening around the necks of all of the King’s children.

***