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Progeny, Chapter 3: Scars 11-9-18

Chapter 3: The Scars

“I must admit, I am impressed with the bravery you exhibited, however foolhardy it was,” Merrick said. It was the next morning, and Declan sat across from his father at the table. Elizabeth had healed Declan’s burn, but it would certainly scar. Isabeau said it made him look like a warrior. To everyone’s surprise, Merrick had agreed.

“I feel that your studies are wasted on you,” he continued. “We mustn’t pretend that you are making any sort of progress. Your magic will never flourish. If you are to bring me any pride at all, it will only be on the battlefield. As of today, I am enrolling you in the Royal Academy. A bit of discipline will do you good, and you do have the aptitude for battle. Given your friendship with the prince, I don’t believe you’ll have much trouble training for his army. He’ll likely even place you in his unit.” Merrick finished his chicken and wiped his hands and mouth on his cloth napkin. “You do understand this is the best and only route for you?”

“Yes, sir,” Declan responded. He really couldn’t think of an objection.

“Good. You’ll be starting at the seventh hour, sharp, each morning beginning tomorrow. Arthur said you could meet him in the yard at the fourteenth hour so he could get you up to speed. If I were you, I wouldn’t be late.”

“Yes, sir.”

Isabeau and Elizabeth were as shocked as their brother was. Had Merrick truly given up on Declan’s magic for good? Isabeau found it quite hard to believe, given what had happened two years ago, almost to the day. She pushed the memory from her mind. It had been made abundantly clear the day that it happened that no one was to ever speak of it. Her eyes moved from her plate over to her mother, who was rocking herself in her chair by the fire. Merrick never bothered to care for her; it was always the children who looked after her, particularly Isabeau. She rose and cleared her plate and began preparing one for her mother, who’d yet to eat. She sat herself next to Cala with a forkful of chicken and motioned for her mother to take a bite. Her mother locked eyes with her and tentatively took a bite. When she had gotten a taste, she realized just how hungry she truly was and began eating more quickly.

“Remember trips to the market, Mama?” Isabeau said softly. “That crazy butcher always lowered his prices whenever we walked past, but when we turned around and went to buy, he brought the prices back up, factoring in ‘royal tax.’ And, when Arthur was with us, he called him out in front of the whole city, and we got discounted meat ever since that day.”

Cala’s eyes lit up, momentarily revived by the memory. Mother and daughter chuckled together, and everything felt slightly normal again. But Isabeau knew that things could never be normal, and it was her fault. Merrick made sure she was constantly reminded of that. She ignored most of his remarks, never revealing how much the guilt truly ate away at her.

When Merrick left for the castle, Elizabeth and Declan joined together to wash the dishes. Most of the chore was endured in silence, until finally: “Declan, are you absolutely sure this is the right path for you? I know you’re not one for swords or violence.”

Declan shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Besides, I’ll be training with Arthur. I’m not too worried about it.”

Elizabeth’s worries did ease when she realized Arthur would be conducting and supplementing Declan’s training, but when she remembered how close they were to a war with the Witches of the East, her stomach sank again.

“What if we go to war, Declan? What will you do then?”

“I guess I’ll have to fight.” Declan placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “And I will come back. I may not be much good at magic or fighting, but I’m awfully good at dodging.”

Declan succeeded in eliciting a laugh from his older sister, and the two hugged tightly. Over Declan’s shoulder, Elizabeth’s eyes flitted to where Isabeau was sitting with their mother, and, for a moment, Elizabeth wondered how she could ever handle losing yet another loved one.

The incident had taken place two years ago. At the time, it had become clear that Declan’s studies were getting nowhere. His instructors claimed he was a lost cause. Finally, Merrick had enough. He believed there was magic in his son yet, and he was determined to beat it out of him. He decided the best approach was to go back to the basics. He sat down with his son at the table and placed a candle before them. He lit it and extinguished it almost in one movement. “All right, Declan, your assignment is to light this candle. Just concentrate and create the heat and the flame in your mind, and with your hand make it a reality.”

For the first hour, Merrick was considerably patient. This was likely because he truly believed he would get results. After an hour of patience didn’t work, he resorted to verbal abuse. Then, gradually, a bit of physical abuse. After the third day, Merrick lost his temper. He knocked the candle off the table and seized his son by the front of his shirt.

“Are you hoodwinking me, boy? Or are you truly that disabled?” Merrick snarled.

Declan shook his head and reached out for the candle, desperately attempting to light it and gain his father’s approval. Merrick smacked his hand away. “Don’t bother with that! You’re wasting your time!” Merrick shook his head. “I can finally believe it’s true. My son is no better than a mortal boy.”

Declan began to cry. “Papa, I’m trying. I’m almost there. I’m so close. I can feel it. If you just let me…”

“Do not mock me!”

Cala came running out from her room after hearing the commotion. She saw Merrick holding their son by the collar and rushed forward. “Merrick! Let go of him! Why can’t you just let this go?”

Merrick slowly turned his head towards Cala and pointed a finger at her. “You…this is your fault.”

“What? Merrick, I–”

“You were unfaithful. You brought me a bastard boy and claimed it was my own.”

“He is your own!”

“Look at him! He looks nothing like me!”

“He looks nothing like either of us. It is very possible he got those genes from his grandparents. Your father had dark hair, as did mine! The eyes could be an abnormality. There are so many explanations you’re not willing to consider. He is our son! Take your hands off of him!” Cala moved towards him, but Merrick pulled Declan closer.

“I did the math, Cala! There is no possible way!”

“I have been with no one else,” Cala pleaded. “I have told you time and time again. His timing may be odd, but he must be a gift from–”

“He is not a gift, he is a curse!” Merrick turned his eyes back towards his son. “A curse I must end.”

Merrick raised his hand to strike his son when vines from one of the overhanging planters wrapped around his arm, restraining him. They began to squeeze tightly, quickly bringing Merrick pain. In his rage, Merrick snapped his head towards the caster: little Isabeau, who wore a dark, solemn expression. As the vines squeezed tighter, Merrick shot a curse towards his daughter, blinded by his pain. Before the curse could reach Isabeau, Cala knocked her daughter out of the way. The curse hit her directly in the temple.

And the consequences you already know.

#fantasy #once and future #once and future king #Arthur Pendragon #camelot #fiction #young adult #writer #writing #books #novels #e. rohan #progeny #fantasy books #magic #fantasy stories #dragons

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onceandfutureseries-blog · 6 years

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Progeny, Chapter 2: Flesh and Fire 11-1-18

Chapter 2: Flesh and Fire

Of course, there were times when the Greyfires would run down to the Northwinds’ home and no one seemed to be there. The house itself would be quiet and still, its solemnity so great that not even the restless Greyfires dared disturb it. On these days, the Greyfires would shrug and walk back home, disappointed and completely unaware that three pairs of eyes longingly watched them from a bedroom window.

It wasn’t that the Northwinds weren’t home, and it certainly wasn’t that they didn’t want to play. However, there were certain days – days that were beginning to occur closer and closer together – where Merrick wasn’t in the mood for company. In fact, he wasn’t in the mood for anything at all. He would lurk through the house, daring for someone to give him a reason to explode. Every day, when he came home from work, the children would listen for the sound of the door closing; how it was shut would determine how the rest of their day would be spent. When the door was slammed, the children instantly took to their room and opened their books; studying was the least disruptive activity. All the while, their mother never moved. She would sit in her rocking chair as she always did and stare at the wall without ever uttering a word. The children hadn’t heard her speak for several years, not since the incident.

On Merrick’s dark days, he would break anything of the children’s that was left in his path. He would head straight towards the cabinets and pull out the same bottle of liquor and the same glass before sitting down in his armchair next to the fireplace. He would sit, drink, and glare at his wife for the next several hours, likely wondering how his life had taken such a turn. It was true that he was in the greatest position of power a man could possess (without doing anything of actual sacrifice), but what no one ever knew was that Merrick Northwind truly despised Elric Greyfire.

Merrick came from an old, noble family, and, because of this, he was recruited into the Royal Army at a young age. By the time he was eighteen, he was riding the front line just behind their captain: Prince Elric. During the Orc Wars, Merrick was in Elric’s unit and climbed his way to third-in-command. Being quite vain and competitive, he often argued against Elric’s battle plans and called the prince an idiot; lucky for Merrick, the prince was known for his good nature, and he never took Merrick’s outbursts to heart. In fact, instead of viewing Merrick’s arguments as defiant, he interpreted them as collaborative and began to welcome Merrick’s criticism. Naturally, this attitude infuriated Merrick even more.

During one of their final battles, an arrow from an enemy orc came straight towards the prince, targeted at his head, but it never made contact. Merrick Northwind knocked the prince out of the way and, as a result, took the arrow instead. It pierced through his armor and lodged itself deep in Merrick’s shoulder. Merrick was excused from the rest of the war and hailed for saving the future king’s life, but Merrick never told anyone the truth of the incident. No one had seen that he wasn’t diving to knock the prince out of harm’s way; he had dived to dodge a fatal blow from one of the orcs’ maces, one that ended up decapitating the man directly behind Merrick.

After the war was concluded, it was time for Elric’s coronation. At the end of the ceremony, Elric announced that his father’s advisor would be retiring, leaving a vacancy. Due to his bravery in battle and devotion to his prince, Merrick Northwind was honored with the position. And, for once, Merrick was indeed honored, for a few years, at least. As time went on, he found he had less power than he initially thought, and he grew tired of being by the king’s side. Elric failed to notice Merrick’s declining interest; he respected Merrick as a scholar and strategist but accepted the fact that he would never find the man agreeable and so paid little attention to Merrick’s mood swings altogether.

As Merrick sat in his chair and drank, all these thoughts would swirl around in his head, and, in the end, he always ended up focusing on two things: his wife and his son.

Merrick’s feelings towards his wife went back many years. In their youth, Cala was the beauty of the city. She enchanted everyone who met her, and her kindness never faltered. She was far too good for Merrick, but her family and his desired their lines to be tied together, and so they betrothed the couple when Merrick returned from the war. On Merrick’s twentieth birthday, they were wed in the castle. When Cala walked down the aisle towards her husband-to-be, it may have been the only time Merrick had felt anything similar to love for her.

For many years, their relationship was stagnant but untypical. They felt no romantic love for each other, but they were faithful and devoted and could live in harmony together. The magic that Merrick had felt on their wedding day quickly vanished, as he realized that Cala married him for obligation and obligation alone. But, still, Cala showed nothing but kindness and consideration for her husband, so he showed her the same. After Elizabeth was born, they were even quite happy for a period of time. Their daughter was lovely and adored, and her magical abilities impressed even Merrick. Things seemed to be looking up for the young couple until the birth of their son.

When Declan was born, it was immediately clear that he was very different. He cried very little, sometimes not at all. Merrick would boast that he must have the soul of a warrior, and he took pride in his son’s silence and resilience. But, as the boy grew older and his features took form, Merrick began to breed a hatred for the boy as he saw little likeness between the two of them. Declan’s hair quickly grew dark, and his eyes changed from their boyish blue to silver. The boy was too quiet, it seemed, and had little interest in running and playing with wooden swords as the other boys did. Declan instead preferred to climb to the tops of trees and watch the city from above. When his father spoke to him, he said little in return. And, on top of it all, Declan couldn’t seem to do any magic.

Merrick quickly accused Cala of being unfaithful. Cala denied it. It was impossible for the child to be any but Merrick’s. But, in the darkness and silence of the night, Cala would lie in bed and count the days and the months, wondering how it was possible that Declan was conceived when he was. Still, she had no doubt that he was her son, and she loved him as much as she possibly could. A year after Declan’s birth, Isabeau was born. When Merrick saw her fair hair, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. She had his ears and the line of his jaw. She was his.

As the three children grew, so did Merrick’s disappointment. Declan failed his classes and Isabeau never failed to disrupt them. Elizabeth was the only one that had lived up to her expectations; she did excellently in school and spoke only when spoken to. Her gentle spirit allowed her to keep herself composed around her father though she deeply disliked him. She constantly watched over and cared for her siblings and did all that she could to help them. Elizabeth would stay up late at night and help Declan with his incantations so he could barely pass his classes. With Isabeau, she would teach her the magic she wanted to know so that she would agree to focus on her studies as well. But the thing that Elizabeth did the very best was see just how talented her siblings truly were.

Declan did have magic in him, though the world around him failed to see it. The animals and magical creatures often approached him and would whisper things to him that no one else could hear. They all trusted him and would seek him out whenever he went into the forest. When his sisters were feeling sad, Declan would open his window and let out a low whistle to call the bobcats from their dens, and they would come to the window and visit the girls and chitter delightfully.

Both Declan and Elizabeth realized how powerful their younger sister was. Isabeau could make her drawings come to life on the page by the time she was a year old. When she turned three, she could make the water bend to her will. And, by the time she was eleven, all of nature’s elements would answer to her call. But these were things that Isabeau refused to show her father, for she understood very quickly how greedy adults could be, and she didn’t trust anyone other than her siblings and the Greyfires with the true extent of her magic. She’d made that decision after the night her father had silenced their mother forever.

On one night, Merrick’s mood took a turn for the worst, and he burst into the children’s room while Isabeau was in the middle of painting. He pointed a drunken finger at her and growled, “What have I told you about wasting your time with this?”

“I finished my studies,” Isabeau replied, slowly setting down her paintbrushes. Merrick scoffed and tossed his head.

“You think I’m an idiot? You think I don’t know that you’ve skipped the last five classes?” He stumbled into the room and lurched towards his daughter, seizing her by the arms. “Your instructor saw me at the market today, told me that if you wanted any chance at making the Council, your habits had to drastically change. She reprimanded me for allowing such ‘sloppiness.’ Sloppiness. You made me look like a damned fool for wasting that money on you.”

“I told you I don’t want to be on the Council,” Isabeau said. “I told you that I didn’t want to go to those classes.”

“So, you want to live on the streets, painting with your own piss in the streets? Because I won’t give you a damned copper if you fail out of the Institute.”

“I’ll go to school and take the instructor’s training, Father, but I have no desire to be on the Council.”

“You want to be a nobody? If you don’t make the Council, that’s what you’ll be. Just a damned nobody.”

“I guess that’ll make two of us.”

Before Merrick had burst in, Declan had opened the closet and urged his sisters inside, and, while Elizabeth obliged, Isabeau insisted on finishing her painting. She refused to fear their father. So, the two hid in the closet and watched Merrick and Isabeau’s conversation. As the last words left Isabeau’s mouth, Merrick raised his hand to strike her. Before he could, Declan leapt from the closet and caught his father’s arm. Both stared at each other with shock for several seconds. Neither were sure what to do with the other. For a moment, Merrick felt a spark of respect for the fourteen-year-old boy standing before him, daring to stand against him.

But that spark was soon extinguished.

Merrick’s other hand grew white hot, and when it struck the side of Declan’s face, it left a burn the went from Declan’s temple, through his eyebrow, down to the bridge of his nose. Declan felt the wetness of his melted flesh before he felt the pain. Before he could muster a response, Isabeau held out her hands and blasted their father back into the wall just hard enough to daze him. She turned to her brother and yelled at him to run.

Declan jumped out of their window and ran into the woods, not daring to look back. He kept running until he couldn’t recognize the trees anymore. He’d passed the boundary they’d all created for themselves as children and had reached uncharted territory. As rain began to fall, he searched for a temporary shelter, just somewhere to keep warm until it was safe to go home. The rain stung the wound on his face; he found himself wishing he had Elizabeth with him, if only to heal the burn. No, she was safer back there. The more separate she kept from him, the less likely it was that Merrick would blame her as well. Declan always did his best to redirect Merrick’s anger towards himself; at least Declan had nothing to lose.

He at last came across a cave that looked suitable enough for shelter, but as he approached it, a soft cooing could be heard from inside. It was a kind of chittering purr he’d never heard from any creature in his life. He moved forward slowly, fighting the urge to run from the strange noise. When he entered the cave, he saw shards of what appeared to be a shiny stone. When he turned one over, the inside was a pearlescent white covered in a gooey membrane. Almost like…

“A shell,” Declan whispered. His eyes moved towards the center of the cave where a pit had been formed. In the center of the small pit was the largest piece of the stone, and in it was a small dragon, curled into a ball.

Declan let out a gasp and stumbled back. Dragons were supposed to have been gone for centuries, and yet here one was, napping the afternoon away. It raised its head at Declan and purred again, seemingly happy to see him. Declan’s heart pounded in his chest as he thought of all the tales he’d heard from his instructors, how dragons used to kill hundreds of men and destroy village after village. They were monstrosities. But this one seemed to smile at him.

It crawled out of its egg and fell to the ground in a heap. It shook itself out and gathered its balance only to fall flat again. It furrowed its brow and rose again, this time determined. It puffed out its tiny chest and strutted forward, making it all the way to Declan with only a stumble or two. It was clearly very proud of its accomplishment. It analyzed Declan’s face for a moment, staring deeply into his eyes without blinking. After a few seconds, it suddenly blinked and arched its back, flashing its dark blue scales playfully. It crawled into Declan’s lap and settled there, finding this nest a bit more suitable than its last. Within seconds, the dragon was fast asleep yet again.

Declan didn’t dare move for several hours.

When the dragon woke again, it hopped down from Declan’s lap and peered outside. The rain had stopped, and the dragon smelled a meal waiting to be had. It rushed towards the mouth of the cave before glancing back at Declan. It chittered again and urged him to follow.

Without knowing what exactly he was doing, Declan began to follow the dragon. It chirped cheerfully as it scuttled about, searching for food. It decided to go to the riverbank, where it hopped onto a large rock and waited for fish to pass. It snapped in the water once and caught a small trout. The second time, another trout. The third time, another. By the fifth try, the dragon felt it had enough to feed itself and its new friend, and so it led them back to the cave. Declan watched in wonder as the dragon forced out a tiny flame and slowly and tediously cooked each individual fish.

“Just where did you come from?” Declan said.

The dragon paid the question no mind and continued its work. When the cooking was done, the two ate eagerly. Declan watched the dragon tear apart its prey and marveled at the number of teeth it possessed. The dragon grew irritated with Declan watching it eat and made a rather disgruntled noise as it turned its back to him and continued eating.

Declan laughed in response. “You are by far the funniest creature I’ve ever seen in my life.”

When the dragon was done, it crawled back into Declan’s lap for yet another nap. Declan smiled down at his new friend and began to think of a name, for he couldn’t go on just calling him “dragon” for all his life. He remembered a name he’d seen in a book once and felt it suited the personality of the little dragon. Satisfied with the new name, he relaxed against the cave wall and suddenly realized just how tired he was. By nightfall, Declan and Bentley were fast asleep.

#fantasy #once and future #fiction #young adult #writer #writing #books #novels #e.rohan #progeny #camelot #Arthur Pendragon #fantasy books #fantasy stories #dragons #magic

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onceandfutureseries-blog · 6 years

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Progeny, Chapter 1: Devil’s Child 10-15-18

Chapter 1: Devil’s Child

The golden days of the mortal world had already passed, but the rise of the magical land of Dömterra had just begun.

Dömterra came into existence early in history, after the fall of Camelot. When Pendragon and Emrys ceased to be, what little peace Mortals and magic had before vanished, and, once again, bloody wars broke out between the groups. Countless lives were needlessly lost due to ancient prejudices, and the world was nearly razed to the ground. Finally, three years into the wars, the One – the ancient Creator of this world – cried out and froze Time himself. During this Timeless period, the One created a separate world where magic could flourish and thrive without causing conflict with the Mortals. When the world was finished, the One then created a Council – one made up of magicfolk who possessed pure intentions and peaceful hearts – that would mediate between the two worlds and maintain the peace. The One then unfroze Time and opened up a portal between the worlds and instructed all magicfolk and creatures to go through and never return.

To ensure this promise was kept, the One created a new race: The Guardians. At the time of creation, there were five, each assigned to a specific portal spread throughout the two lands. Their job was to guard the portal, permit Council members to pass through, and keep ill-doers from crossing over. The beings were granted long life and were never easily harmed, save for dark magic or the hands of another Guardian. They were also given another form, one that would be familiar to any creature and deter them from crossing paths with the Guardians: they took on the form of a large, slender wolf, majestic in comparison to the brutish Lycans.

The magicfolk had no qualms about keeping their promise; the lands of Dömterra were rich and plentiful, and they held plenty of space for each society. The Dwarves took to the mountains and settled the city of Bluestone, where sapphires from the mines granted their wealth. The Elves settled on an isle in the North Sea, and they called their kingdom The Golden Isle. The Fey resided in the lush, green forests, which they named Greenmist. They didn’t build walls or moats; they kept the forests as they were, and they hid themselves in the thick fog that enchanted any wanderers who dared venture into the forest.

Blackshore, ruled by the family of Magi who came to be known as the Blackwaters, took any and all who came to their gates, though this earned them the reputation of the City of Thugs and Thieves.

The rest of the Magi constructed a city called Greywall. It laid along the Grey Forest and Grimm River, and just south of their borders were the Mirrin Plains. To the northeast was Blackshore, and to the north was the port village of Balboa, just across from the Golden Isle. It was in the center of all of Dömterra, and it became the trade city of the land. The neat, cobblestone roads, perfect cottages, and flourishing shops made Greywall into a paradise for all who lived there. The children would run through the dense Grey Forest and play with the animals who hid there without any fear of being harmed.

And so, the cities of Dömterra were founded, and all magical creatures scattered to environments that they made their new homes. But, our story does not focus on all of Dömterra. It instead takes place particularly in the bustling city of Greywall, ruled, at the time, by Elric and Alana Greyfire, who would come to be known as the Protectors of Greywall.

Everyone had felt a shift in the wind when the beloved prince of Greywall, Elric Greyfire, took to the throne, but the real change had started when Elric dared to marry a woman from the Mortal world. The elders of the great city frowned upon Elric and Alana’s marriage, despite Alana being a Magi, and marked it as a sin against the old gods, a sin that was doomed to be repaid. Not even the birth of their son and heir, Arthur, could silence the elders’ utterings. It wasn’t until the birth of their daughter, Chloe, that the city’s critics began to soften, for no one could resist the beauty and charm of the Greyfires’ most mischievous child. By Chloe’s fifth birthday and Arthur’s seventh, the city’s elder council held a ceremony to bless the two children into their royal roles. By the ceremony’s closing, there was not a single person in the city who didn’t adore the two fair-haired children.

Many did fear about the children’s aptitude for magic, given that they had a Half-Blooded mother. These fears were quickly extinguished as Chloe’s magic drew dancing sprites to the forest and Arthur’s magic fueled his strength and prowess in battle. It soon became clear that the Greyfires were destined for great things, mixed blood or not. And though they rarely got along with the royal children from other cities – as, on one occasion, Chloe’s whispers to the birds caused most of Anja Blackwater’s lunch to be stolen and tossed into the nearby brook – they later became inseparable from the three children of the royal advisor, Merrick Northwind. The eldest Northwind, Elizabeth, matched Arthur’s age, while the youngest, Isabeau, matched Chloe’s. The middle child, Declan, was the odd one out, as he tended to be; however, the friendship between these children began with him.

Declan Northwind was well-known in the town, as he was often accused of being a bastard boy. Both his father and mother came from strong, magical families, and yet Declan couldn’t so much as light a candle, try as he might. His father pushed his studies on him as forcefully as he could, but the results never changed. His sisters flourished in their magic, just as their parents had before them. Isabeau had her father’s fair hair and mother’s dark eyes, and Elizabeth shared her mother’s light brown locks and her father’s blue eyes; Declan, on the other hand, had hair almost as black as coal and eyes that seemed to shine silver at times. Because of this, Declan was shunned by townsfolk and instructors alike and was called “devil’s child” for many years. Other children opted to throw stones at him; these stones would often halt in mid-air and launch themselves back at their owners whilst Isabeau Northwind hid in the bushes and Elizabeth ran out to pull her brother out of sight.

On one afternoon, when Declan was only thirteen years old, his bullies followed him home from classes. He’d been called upon that day to demonstrate a simple spell: growing an entire plant from a single seed. He stood up there, incanting and gesturing with all his might, and the seed didn’t so much as twitch. His face reddened as his classmates jeered. With a sigh, his instructor told him to sit back down and practice the spell at home if he wanted any hope of passing his classes that term. When Declan turned the corner and strayed from the main road, his bullies seized the opportunity and grabbed him by the arms. They cast a silencing charm on him as they hauled him into the forest, away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk; they always ruined their fun when it came to tormenting the Devil’s Child.

They took him to a clearing and threw him to the ground. When he scrambled to his feet and tried to run, they enchanted vines to grow from the ground and wrap themselves around his legs. He collided with the earth and split his lip open as the vines dragged him back towards his assailants. One of the boys, Balan, seized Declan by the shirt and flipped him face-up. His long, crooked nose almost touched Declan’s as he spat in his face. “Tell me, Devil Boy, have you been wasting that magic of yours on hexes and curses?”

“My mamma told me they found him in a cave,” one of the girls, Cora, jeered. She scooped up a handful of mud and flung it right as his open, screaming mouth. They laughed as he choked and spit it back out. He reached up and tried to scrape the dirt out of his mouth, but the vines wrapped around his arms, too, and pinned them to the ground. “They said he looked kinda like this.”

“That’s why his mamma don’t speak no more,” another boy said. “She woke up to him crawling on the ceiling one night. Scared her speechless.”

“My father passed him on the street once and made eye contact with him. Right after, one of the carriages got loose and ran him over, breaking both of his legs.”

“My brother shared a sandwich with him and was sick the next two weeks. The healers thought he wouldn’t make it.”

“I bet he hexes and curses in his sleep and that’s why he can’t do normal magic.”

“They shouldn’t ever have kept him.”

“His father only keeps him because he feels bad.”

“Keeping him here is making all of us feel bad,” one pointed out. “Maybe we should just get rid of the burden.”

A vine creeped its way towards Declan’s neck. He writhed and struggled to get away from it as the kids laughed and pointed.

“We don’t need your curses plaguing the city anymore,” the first girl said darkly.

“Hey, maybe they’ll write about us in the schoolbooks, about how we killed the demon boy.”

As the vine wrapped itself around Declan’s throat, a red bird shot through the clearing and let out a single, piercing cry. It dived towards the children and caused them all to jump aside. As it flew back out of the clearing, the children turned back towards their victim, only to see that the vines had been cut. A handsome, fair-haired boy was helping Declan to his feet. In his hand was a blade with a hilt of solid gold, embroidered with the Greyfire family crest. Prince Arthur turned to the children and held the point of his blade at Balan’s crooked nose.

“I’d suggest you get out of here,” the prince said. “I came here to hunt the jays, but I’d settle just fine for little, fat children.”

Balan shrunk under Arthur’s presence. In comparison, Arthur was much broader than Balan, and where he had muscle, Balan only had fat. Still, Balan dared to sneer up at the prince. “My father–”

“I don’t believe we need to go into a discussion about fathers, Balan. I think we all know who’d win that battle. Now, unless you want a scar on that ugly nose, I’d suggest you and your friends get out of here.”

The children gathered together and fled the forest as they muttered foul things about the prince to each other. Arthur paid it no mind and placed his sword back in its scabbard. He placed a hand on Declan’s shoulder and offered him his handkerchief to wipe off his face. “Are you all right?”

With his attackers gone, the silencing charm broke, and Declan was able to croak out a weak “yes.”

“Those kids only bother you because you’re different,” Arthur said. “Boring people hate different. It’s what makes them so boring.” He smiled gently at Declan for a moment before raising his eyebrows. “Oh, right.” Arthur looked over his shoulder and called out, “You can come out now!”

A young girl with golden hair emerged from the trees with a scowl on her face. “I don’t get why I had to hide in the first place.”

“It was dangerous. I wasn’t sure if they’d try something.”

“I could take them on.”

“Five thirteen year-olds against you? Please. I could handle it just fine myself without having to worry about you.”

“Funny since I can take you on,” the girl muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, R.” She turned her head towards Declan. “You’re Declan Northwind, aren’t you? Merrick’s son.” Declan nodded. “Ooh, I hate Merrick. He frowns too much.” She tilted her head as she looked him up and down. Declan noticed that her eyes seemed greener than the leaves of the trees, and they held a world of mischief in them. “You don’t look like him.”

“Chloe!” Arthur said. Chloe rolled her eyes at him.

“No, I mean that you don’t look like him because you don’t have mean eyes. Merrick has very mean eyes. I tell Father all the time. I know mean eyes, and you don’t have them.”

She walked up to Declan and squinted at him. “That handkerchief’s not going to do it. Hold on a second. I always do this with Arthur after his jousting practice.” She raised her hand up and moved it past his face, clearing the dirt completely and healing his lip. “Oh, damn!”

“Chloe! Watch your tongue!” Arthur said.

“I’m sorry, it’s just I couldn’t get rid of the scar.” She pointed at the line above Declan’s upper lip. “If Teacher would let me read ahead, I could’ve gotten rid of that.”

“We’re all just holding you back, aren’t we?” he teased his sister. She nodded.

“Was that Balan with them?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, Balan and Cora. And a few of the merchants’ kids.”

“Ooh, I have classes with Cora. I’m going to make sure there are earthworms in her porridge for the next month,” Chloe said, rubbing her little hands together. “And Balan comes to practice in the yard with his father. I’ll make sure his horse spooks.”

“R-really,” Declan said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do!” Chloe said indignantly. Her green eyes shone with mischief, and Declan quickly found her endearing. “If we can’t stick up for each other, then who can we stick up for? You’re our friend.”

“Friends?”

“Of course!”

“But…” Declan scratched his head. “I don’t even know you.” He instantly wished he hadn’t said that and looked down at the ground.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got a lot of friends to choose from,” Chloe said. Arthur nudged her in the ribs, and, mysteriously, a cluster of leaves fell on his face immediately after. She smiled at Declan and continued on. “You’ve got to start somewhere.”

Arthur shook the leaves from his hair and grinned. “I hate to say it, but she’s right.” He shrugged off his black coat and handed it to Declan. “Put this on. You look like you’re going to freeze to death. We’ll take you back to your house. It’s just a half mile that way, right?” He pointed down the winding path, and Declan nodded.

And so, the Greyfires led Declan Northwind back to his home where his sisters were anxiously awaiting his return. When Arthur explained what had happened, Elizabeth, without regard for propriety, threw herself at him and hugged him tightly, thanking him repeatedly. The young prince was stunned and pleased at this show of gratitude and found himself thinking about the flowery smell of Elizabeth Northwind during his entire walk home. After that day, the Greyfires would run down to the Northwinds’ every day after lessons were done to ask if they could come out to play, and, though Merrick was a rather unpleasant man, he was in no position to deny the royal children their playmates. And, perhaps, if Arthur Greyfire continued staring at his daughter the way he was, then maybe she would soon be married into the royal family.

And that was exactly what Merrick Northwind wanted.

#fiction #fantasy #young adult #writer #writing #novels #books #e. rohan #once and future #progeny #camelot #arthur pendragon

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