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rinse-and-repeat2 · 7 months ago

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Chapter Two: Don't Flinch First

A/N: Yeah, so there's a barely edited chapter two for this medieval AU (part one is here). Two chapters is as far as I've gotten in planning, so this may be the last chapter for a little while (and I'm not quite satisfied with it yet, but I'm tired of staring at it). If you have any questions, please ask, I love answering questions about this AU! Feel free to comment, I also love feedback :)) Chapter Two is under the cut (CW for some cursing and implied mind control at the end, non-important implied death in one paragraph, vague description of (mental?) suffocation - if I need to add anything else, let me know)

Chapter Two: Don't Flinch First

Rhythmic, pounding, the clock thudded as the second hand pushed on through the tightening wrap of time on Kendra’s lungs. Close your eyes, listen to the clock, slow your heartbeat. Breathe in, wait for four ticks. Hold, wait for four ticks. Breathe out, four ticks once more. Open your eyes again. Don’t move, don’t worry, don’t panic, don’t move.

Kendra reminded herself of this time and time again as the second hand slid easily, mockingly, forward alongside every slide of makeup that covered her face. With every soft brush of the bristles against her face, tickling her skin, a cold, chilling shiver shuddered down her spine like a sharp slap of pain. Instead of letting this sink into her, though, she closed her eyes, took another deep breath, and opened them once again to face the mirror in front of her.

She sat in the wooden chair, unmoving. The worn cushion beneath her crinkled as she sat, and the curved, lacquered wood, unlike its appearance, could barely come into contact with skin without leaving behind a splinter. Yet, Kendra tapped her fingers against it, alongside the clock. Every tick of the clock called for another brush of makeup, and for every brush, for every tap, another lie settled heavy in her mind.

Don’t move, Kendra chanted to herself. Move, and the makeup would smudge. Move, and they would have to start over. Move, and the lie would become a little less believable. The air slid as sludge through her, around her, dripping off her limbs, and pooling in her constricting lungs. Ever going forward, it continued, slow and thick, as did the silence. They dredged on together, an inseparable duo.

Kendra, tense as a wooden board about to snap, suppressed the urge to shiver as the brush moved closer to her neck, where most of the work focused. The modifications needed to look perfect, completely real and true. If a single flaw merely existed…

Close your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Open your eyes again.

Alyssa, if Kendra remembered the handmaiden’s name correctly, focused intensely as she applied the different products, building an amazingly fake recreation of gills on either side of Kendra’s face. They emerged from the side of her neck, protruding in layers. From there, red and orange scales lingered, thick in an initial circle around the gills before scattering, spreading up on her cheek and down to her shoulder. The job took time, certainly, but Alyssa understood this when taking on the burden—and the large paycheck that came with it.

At younger ages, Kendra had been assigned Lena as her makeup artist, alongside a mentor for her said-to-be emerging magic. Ever since she abdicated from her position as queen, Lena had much time on her hands. But, as she moved on to a full mentor position to Kendra, she became much busier, and a new hire came along.

Though, Kendra supposed ‘new’ couldn’t aptly describe Alyssa. Alyssa Carter, and the rest of the Carter line, by extension, worked along the Burgess line for what felt like centuries. Always paid handsomely, it began with Harrow Carter, many years ago. Despite avid researchers’ attempts to find the moment Harrow and Patton Burgess met, nothing could be found. Harrow, a man of humble origins, became Patton’s personal gentleman-in-waiting after an encounter between the two in the woods, and as far as the story went, that seemed to be it.

Since then, ladies-in-waiting alongside other gentlemen-in-waiting became extremely close friends to the Burgess line, whether they were the current kings, queens, princes, or princesses. It stood as perhaps—other than the royals and nobles themselves—one of the highest paying jobs in the castle.

Kendra and Alyssa had once been good friends, if Kendra remembered correctly. Once upon a time, in a different place, a different setting, their bond had been set up for success. Back then, no pressure had yet been set upon Kendra’s shoulders, and so she could walk and talk without first having to sift through her vocabulary for the right words.

But, over the years, more and more pressed upon her, begging for her immediate attention. Issues and responsibilities tugged at her clothes, grabbed her with reckless abandon, and Kendra worked to satisfy every single one of them. She busied herself with the issues of others, and they were satisfied. Relationships such as the one she had with Alyssa had no immediate pressures. Their bond led to no stress, so it began to fall last in her to-do list, an unkept friendship. An easy responsibility Kendra soon forgot about.

And now, they sat in silence.

While Kendra’s grandparents never pressured her specifically to give up the friendship, looking back, Kendra knew she would have to eventually. Princesses didn’t have such close, irresponsible relationships with their ladies-in-waiting. Instead, they went out, socialized, and found others in similar roles as themselves. Then, later, they would find someone to court.

Leaving even less time for a friendship that did not matter on a political, royal scale. Leaving no time for Alyssa.

Before, Alyssa would have been hard to leave alone in such a way. As a bright, energetic person, she always commanded attention, even as a servant. She had a light in her that sparked like a fire, and a smile that warmed up a room, and hair bright and wild as gold. Her and Kendra slid down banisters, snuck into the king and queen’s bedrooms, and even out into the city, without a single consequence. No one recognized them, and even if they did, no one stopped the princess.

Yet, as Kendra began to back away from that old frame of mind—understanding the mistakes she could no longer afford—Alyssa dissolved from sight. She hid in the background, in a way that Kendra never understood. She became another face in the crowd, nothing original, nothing outstanding. Her voice quieted until Kendra didn’t remember what it sounded like.

Kendra, between one point and another, hadn’t recognized her. With dull blue eyes and blonde hair barely brushing her shoulder, Alyssa became a stranger. Nothing about her brought attention to her, instead everything focused on causing the eyes to easily slip past. Move on to other things, leave her behind, and let her stay in her quiet corner.

Not the person Kendra knew, once upon a time.

Maybe she too had grown to understand consequences and regret. Maybe Alyssa understood that with one wrong step, one slip-up, one mistake, street corners would herald the news with glee. It would echo and reverberate, and it would shatter their lives as they knew it. The news would sink into their subconscious and haunt them for the rest of their lives. Because those who lived in the castle, those who had a presence, were nothing more than someone to look at, admire, win over, and then betray as soon as they made one single mistake.

A dweller in the palace, held with a reverence akin to a saint; a pretty face able to be dressed up, fantasized about; a statue on a pedestal, made for the public to throw their misplaced insults and anger onto them instead of the world… that’s all they were.

An idol, a doll, a punching bag, a thing.

And such things did show: the gills, crafted carefully with artisan’s hands; the dress which fell down around her ankles, bright fire-colored fabrics and gems alike coming together to shine like a flame on her body; and the way she could barely stand straight, stand still, when she saw people’s eyes focus over her, judging something as simple as her every breath.

A thing.

…Though, the dress did have pockets, something which Kendra first looked at with glee and thanks. In fact, she remembered showing them to Lena with the purest joy she had felt in years. The shoes, as well, were something comfortable, flat, so she could keep her balance in a place serving drinks that could easily stain.

But, all of this still continued, in her mind, to be tinged with a sour taste. Comfort, as it stood to be, still needed to be beautiful. Events such as these still included being dressed up, placing a mask over the face and body, and laughing with a fake smile that stretched over one’s entire personality. Made to be a marionette, pulled into dances with strings, talking in a voicebox with the same few polite phrases. Then, after the fact, a wretched homesickness for the ease it put upon her mind to simply be pulled along.

…But the pockets were nice. Truely.

Alyssa stepped away a moment later, and Kendra craned her neck to see the faux gills on either side. They looked so realistic, so natural that it became uncanny to her.

“…And that’s the point,” Kendra said to herself, trying to reassure in a way that put her mind at ease.

Alyssa did not look over at her, nor did she give a single indicator to show that she even heard Kendra’s voice. She simply began to pack up her things and try to wipe the excess makeup off of her dress, a light pink and yellow thing, like the clouds in the faint afternoon. A frown played upon her face as she let her eyes glaze over everything in the world, careful and practiced motions the way she carried herself through life. Routine, all of it.

Kendra recognized the way Alyssa moved through life. Quite similar to being pulled along by invisible strings on a line, she supposed.

The clock ticked on.

Alyssa had done a wonderful job, as the point stood to look in such a way that magic affected her very being, running through her veins as much as blood. Because, as her grandparents described it, magic did run in her veins. According to her records, a trace of the Source had been obvious since her birth. The Source cradled her in its arms, and it gifted her with power to help her public.

According to the Church of Light as well, when Kendra had been around the age of seven, the Source saved their lives. During the spring months, the obituaries of her maternal grandparents, Hank and Gloria Larsen, spread. The news devastated the whole family. Demons—also known as people or monsters changed by Void magic to the point where they could no longer be perceived as human—attacked their home at the edge of town. While barriers were in place to keep most monsters out of their cities—Festival Nights as exception—demons had an advantage, as they technically started as humans. These demons were unable to be caught, as only a little more than a month later, an attack shattered the regular schedule of the castle, ravaged by an unknown group who hoped to rid the world of the Burgess line. In the attack, many servants passed alongside the prince and princess at the time—Kendra’s parents.

The Church of Light believed Kendra’s magic helped mask her and the people around her at the time. It created a barrier of sorts the demons either couldn’t pass through—or perhaps avoided subconsciously, magically distracted and refocused elsewhere. Afterwards, Kendra became heralded in the church as a saint of sorts. Her new position in society became a weight on her shoulders, respect ebbing from the people as they bowed.

Conspiracies existed, of course. Rumors of the “truth” behind the Burgess and Larsen deaths were exchanged in whispers in the dead of night, where the Church and the Castle could not hear. They believed the deaths were connected, or perhaps orchestrated, or some other number of things that Kendra shoved from her mind any time someone dared utter the words in her presence. For her, only one conspiracy existed and only one.

Kendra could not wield Source magic.

At one point, one time, perhaps she could. She could as a child, and before half of her family seemed to die off, she could. But after that fateful night, as soon as she became praised and revered and feared… The light vanished from her fingertips and had yet to return. For years, she tried and tried to harness it once more how the Church of Light told her she could. Once it became evident she had no such ability left in her, Lena taught her how to lie. Her grandparents fed her the lies she needed to stay in order to appease the public and the church, and she repeated them as told.

And if either the church or the public ever found out…

Close your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Open your eyes again.

Kendra couldn’t let it come to that. So, Alyssa put the makeup on, made it seem as if Kendra harnessed the power daily, and Kendra spit those lies from her mouth as often as she could. If needed, there were plans in place for desperate times. Lena had magic from the Source from birth, though slightly fainter, and illusions were easy if you were the one controlling the stage, the scene…

The puppets.

Kendra, when first asked to choose an animal—mammal, fish, or invertebrates—she took inspiration from Lena’s own scales on the back of her hands. Scales, or gills in Kendra’s case, were easier to replicate. Other Source modifications were more difficult to create, such as vertical pupils like a goat, or delicate bee wings growing from the back. One person especially, in Kendra’s own family line, could cut off and regrow their limbs, exactly like a starfish.

Amphibian, reptile, and bird additions, meanwhile, were reserved for Void magic. Its usage could be shown by warts, scales, feathers, or in the very rare occasion, bird wings. These changes were meant to be obvious, because if so, they could find a traitor within their ranks. They could not hide, not from the Source. Some myths were present with the idea that the Source imprinted the additions onto humans, if only to present one’s loyalty or traitorous ability.

Of course, some changes, such as aforementioned scales, could flow from either magic type. But, if the questions were expressed to the point of someone accusing your use of magic, then your reputation within society became the singular thread holding you above the raging waves. Kendra would never in her life be accused—certainly not publicly—and neither would the rest of her remaining family.

They were royals.

They were perfect.

They had to be perfect.

“Thank you,” Kendra quickly whispered out to Alyssa, last minute, as she opened the door. Yet, Alyssa persisted on in her silence as she slipped from the room. The clock continued, now the only noise penetrating the empty air, rattling around in the space until it settled deep in Kendra’s heart. The second hand hadn’t yet passed a minute before the door swung open once again with a graceful ease Kendra could never fathom possessing.

Grace could not well enough describe Lena Burgess. As a previous queen, ruling alongside Patton Burgess—one of the most well-known kings who brought an age of prosperity to the kingdom—she had a reputation as well. After King Burgess’s untimely death, Lena stepped up to the role for years until the tumultuous era ended, the waters calmed. She led them through a time of darkness and grief, a light for all the people. Once she felt her responsibilities began to return to routine, she abdicated, giving the role to Patton’s nephew she knew would serve the country well. The family line continued, all the way down to Kendra’s grandparents. Lena still lived, the Source running through her veins, keeping her alive for longer than humanly possible.

Kendra often wondered if Lena ever struggled. If so, she hid it well from others. She presented herself perfectly, not a spot or smudge out of place. Her dress fell halfway down her shin, a shade darker than a handmaiden’s, though still a very light pink. Her hair laid long, now fully colored with gray, only small strips of black still within it. Her eyes were soft as she stared at Kendra through the mirror. Scales covered her gloveless hands, deep purples and reds.

Kendra wished she could have a fraction of Lena’s composure, or perhaps one true scale as they were on her hand. Everything that Kendra worked horribly to achieve, Lena could do effortlessly. Without a single word, she could create a ball of glowing light. Without any effort, she used magic as if it guided her, and she guided it in return. Lena stood as a compass, and Kendra followed dutifully.

Lena’s hands, light and cold, brushed around the makeup. A slight sense of relaxation creeped up Kendra’s neck as she felt Lena create a seal, protecting it from water, from smudging, and from anything else that may attempt to show its falsity.

“…Do you believe I’ll ever be able to do that?” Kendra carefully hovered her hand over the seal. Seal, an easy spell as Kendra knew, something most adolescents with access to magic knew how to do. Yet, Kendra couldn’t muster enough for something as simple as that. She felt her heart drop once more as Lena did not immediately answer, instead placing a steady hand on her shoulder. The cold of her hand, while it could be felt, did not seep into Kendra’s being as she expected it to.

“You may be able to do this in time,” Lena murmured, a warm smile on her face. “So, do not fret your little mind too much over this matter. Some do not have their full aptitude unlocked until their late twenties. As of right now, you are still a child.”

“I’m seventeen. I’m essentially-”

“You are not an adult. Not yet. Cherish these years, don’t try to rush anything, or you’ll regret it later in your life. Let yourself be a child.”

Kendra watched as Lena stood tall above the mirror, her fingers carefully separating Kendra’s hair into sections, beginning one, thick braid on the back of her head. As she began to braid, Kendra considered staying quiet, staying still, but she had been sitting, silent for so long.

“What if I’m never able to?” Kendra asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The words barely left her mouth, barely audible. She shouldn’t have said anything at all, shouldn’t have let that doubt leave her mind in such a way that would only lead to her capsizing over the thought. She needed to be confident, had to be confident, or the lie may fail, and her family could be put into danger-

“Close your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Open your eyes again.” The words resounded as soon as they were in Lena’s voice rather than Kendra’s own. Lena seemed to sense her panic, her utter despair over the idea, as she carefully held the unfinished braid. “I would advise you to wait until you’re an adult and see what happens then. If new magic never shows, then I suppose that is that. The Source knows what is meant to be, and maybe your magic always had the chance of running out.” Lena paused. “That does not mean the Source dislikes you, or hates you. It doesn’t mean you are worth less or have somehow failed someone. You know that, correct?”

Kendra paused, her mind turning over Lena’ words. “If I don’t lie with a certain precision, if I mess one thing up, my entire family could be in danger. The weight of my whole family is on my shoulders…”

“And it shouldn’t be. You’re seventeen, for Source’s sake.”

Kendra only stared at the faux gills on her neck through the mirror. “Then how much longer do I need to keep this charade up for? People with Source magic live for longer, proven by your very existence, so… How long? How long do I need to keep blatantly lying to everyone I see, everyone I meet?”

Lena paused. “Maybe, eventually, you and your grandparents can ease the Church, the public, into the idea.”

Kendra nodded, slowly, wanting to laugh a little bitterly, wanting to give in ever so slightly to the inherent anger that flared in her chest. Instead, she stamped the feeling into the ground, tapping the arm of the chair, letting her anger flow over her instead of into her.

“We both know that isn’t happening anytime soon,” Kendra said, quietly, softly. Even four months into the future, after she became an adult, she would still not be able to make her own decisions—not without her grandparents’ guiding hands on her shoulders, the public looming behind her. “I wish I were old enough now. Old enough to know, to decide my own path and future.”

With an apologetic look, Lena stared at Kendra, a mix between a smile and a frown on her face. “I understand, and from your point of view, it makes quite a bit of sense. You want the freedom to choose, and I want that for you as well. But,” Lena laughed a little, something light and loving, “you do not want to be old yet. Be young. Live without creaky old bones like mine.” Lena smiled, and Kendra smiled back.

She disagreed, Kendra did. An elegance could be attributed to her wrinkles, to the spots on her skin. Instead of blemishes, she wore them as small, shining suns. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, and her gray hair shone. Though her bones were weary, her mentality continued to be something worth admiring.

“I don’t know. I think, when I’m older, I would want to be like you.”

Lena stayed still for a long moment, and Kendra could not tell what raced through her head at the time. A slight sigh escaped her lips, and she carefully moved to the front, blocking her view of the mirror. “I imagine you do. But, I am more interested to learn what you are like when you are old, not me. You can take inspiration, sure, but at the end of the day, you must be yourself, and you must craft your own identity. I am more interested in Kendra than I am a reflection of my mirror.” She moved to the side, and Kendra stared back at herself for a very long moment. Lena once again rested her hand on Kendra’s shoulder, a familiar, comforting weight for Kendra. Softly, she spoke, “I am so very interested to see who you become.”

“…A lot of people are.”

Lena sighed, eyes saddening as she stared at Kendra for a long, quiet moment. “You have too much tension in your muscles for someone your age. Wise beyond your years, and yet…” She shook her head again, as if she were about to say something and stopped.

“Yet what…?”

Lena shook her head again. “Nothing. I simply believe differently than certain others. I believe you needn’t worry about your future quite yet. Not in the deep, prying way you do, dear.”

The future terrified Kendra more than should have been humanly possible. She had stared at pleading citizens before their execution and murderers on trial, she had even faced the disapproving face of the public, her family, and none of it could be quite as terrifying as the future.

An unknown in a world of endless possibilities—endless, an intimidating number. The pure expanse of which there were alternate futures where things were better, worse, different, cautioned her against estimations of what the future held for her. If the future held infinite possibilities, there were worlds where her biggest dreams were fulfilled, and there were other worlds where her family line ended, as it seemed destined to.

“The future doesn’t always sound inviting.”

“…How do you feel now? Right now.”

“What?” Lena gestured for her to continue. “I suppose I’m alright. Not doing too bad.” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and yet Lena had a slight—somehow comforting—smirk on her face.

“From another perspective, right now could be seen as the future from another point of view. When you are a young child, the future is the moment you become an adolescent. When you are an adolescent, the future is when you’re an adult. You are constantly living in the past, present, and future at the same time. Right now is already the past when mere minutes ago, we knew it as the future. Time is a constant that will not stop, but it will also allow gradual change. There will not come one day when you are suddenly cast into your older self’s life. You will grow into it, you will understand it, and you will be able to face the future prepared. You craft every moment you live, meaning this very second, every minute, you’re painting your present and future.”

Kendra slowly nodded.

“I’m unsure if that helps,” Lena said, her voice hesitant with Kendra’s uninsightful response. “But, someone very dear to me imparted that wisdom to me in his dying moments. There is a certain terror that comes to those who age unnaturally. To know you will outlive everyone you love is…” Lena paused, looking at Kendra and shaking her head. “Nothing you will need to worry about at a time like this. Just know that if you are worried about losing those you love, they stay with you, whether in photographs, memories, or legacies. They stay with you, stick to you like a sap, and the same can be said for the past. You carry the past with you with every movement you make, while moving on to the future to make new memories. Memories, new or old, can help carry you along the tide, ebb and flow of time.”

Lena carefully finished the braid, styled so intricately, in front of her left shoulder for her to see. Smaller braids were woven in the singular, thick braid, and two small face-framing pieces lay beside her head. “And when you make those memories,” she continued, “I hope you look back and wonder why you were scared at all.”

The ticking of the clock, ever present, became a little less cumbersome as Kendra stilled her tapping fingers. She stared at herself for a long moment, a deep breath rattling within her. “I need to go downstairs soon. Did you hear, there are rumors that guests from other countries are coming to the Gala tonight.” Lena didn’t seem to mind the quick change in topic, nor did she have any comment on the behavior.

Kendra spoke the truth, despite her weariness. The party would start at six, as the Galas always did. Preparations for the next day until three, rest until six, and celebrations until the sun rose. This, of course, excluded all Knights other than her brother and grandmother, needed more for the politics of the castle than for the protections Warren instead had deftly handled, at least until the party finished. Afterwards, Seth and her grandmother would go back to their duties.

As it began, the Galas of Seasons only included citizens within the same city as the capital, Fable. But, as time went on, more and more surrounding cities and towns began to arrive, taking the week away to come and visit the city and its sights. They knew that their government would protect them when it came to the Festival Night. This year, however, many rumors of other countries’ ships arriving at the docs floated through the halls—something Kendra’s grandparents had yet to mention to her or the general public, if the rumors were true at all. If Kendra had to guess, considering the situation she all-too-well understood she found herself in…

Lena lifted the circlet from the top of Kendra’s desk, placing it carefully, delicately on her head. “And these guests,” Lena said, “why do you believe they are here, now of all times?”

Of course Lena knew. Kendra should have guessed Lena knew practically every goings-on within the castle walls, not excluding Kendra herself. After a long pause from Kendra, Lena continued. “You’re meant to start courting someone.”

The clock began to tick again, this time with deeper, more resounding clicks closer to funeral bells. It spun its hands around her lungs and squeezed as tightly as it could; the pointed ends stabbed into her, causing her to deflate as she sat there.

The tapping on the arm of the chair began once again.

Kendra slowly nodded and began to talk, her voice gaining speed as she continued. “I’m meant to choose a groom soon, or at least start to pursue someone in hopes of marriage later on. I’m getting closer to eighteen, and the expectations were destined to be placed upon my shoulders sooner than later. If I don’t start soon, the people will begin to ask questions. Instead, I need to figure out which country we may benefit the most from if they were to be our…” her voice faltered, “ally—in such a way but I’m not sure-”

“Or,” Lena interjected with a slight shrug, “You could follow your heart, as my dear husband once did.”

Kendra rose from her seat, turning from the mirror and instead beginning to walk towards the door. “I… I can’t. I have to choose a prince or a young king. If I don’t then there’s a wasted opportunity there, a potential better future that I’ve walked past for us—that we’ve all walked past,” she added quickly. “I have the option to use this for the betterment of the kingdom, and I will.”

As Kendra walked closer to the exit, Lena followed. “Is that what your grandparents did?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then why would they expect the same thing of you?”

Kendra didn’t have anything to say to that, instead pushing open the old, creaking wood door to the hallway. Sure, her grandparents weren’t pressuring her directly to court a prince or king, but the responsibility came with her current situation. One never has to make a good decision, but it’s always better advised. Kendra understood that.

“Dear,” Lena said, catching Kendra only long enough to move a small strand of hair from in front of her face to behind her ear. “Marry someone you love, if you wish to marry at all.”

Kendra waited for a long, stretched moment before speaking again. “Lena, maybe in your and grandma’s time, marriage didn’t have as heavy a precedent as it does now, but the world is in tense collaboration more often than not. If anything, anything goes wrong, then that tension will snap, and we need allies. If marriage is a way to get one…” Kendra sighed. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

Lena’s smile slowly fell into something much sadder. “Why?”

“Don’t ask me questions like that,” Kendra muttered, and Lena gave a slight, small laugh. Kendra didn’t often break her formal manner, but for Lena… Well, it happened more often than not, a surprising fact for someone as prominent and important as Lena. One might think Kendra would wish to be more formal with her, and yet that could not be farther from the truth.

“…Seth doesn’t have to choose anyone soon, not that I know of-” Kendra began as she started down the stairs. Before she could finish, or before Lena could ask another question Kendra knew she would dread, the door at the bottom of the staircase slammed open. Kendra could hear someone running up the stairs, breathless.

Seth—speak of the devil—appeared briefly in the layers of stairs below them, leading to a preemptive sigh from Kendra. As he got closer, almost running into and over them, he stopped, eyes widening. He leaned against the railing, smiling in such a way that every bone in Kendra’s body revolted.

“What did you do?”

“I haven’t even said hi,” Seth said, still trying to catch his breath. Pointedly, he continued with a smile, “So, hi Lena, Kendra.” He nodded. “What time is it?”

“Don’t you have a watch on you?” Kendra looked her brother up and down. His outfit, nothing fancy, had such a rumpled look to it that she perhaps didn’t even want to know of his previous actions. Of course, it didn’t help that his eyes darted to the corners of the room as she watched “You’re not even dressed yet, and the Gala is starting in less than an hour. Seth-”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll go see Calvin in a second.” Seth seemed to be practically vibrating as he switched between one step and the next, obviously feeling forced to talk. “But for right now, what time is it?”

Lena pulled out a golden pocket watch from her dress, the chain connected from within the many folds. On its back were engraved lily pads, the gold shining and textured to resemble a rippling pond. “It’s a quarter until six.”

Seth simply blinked, staring at her.

“Five-forty-five,” Kendra supplied. “We need to be down at six.”

“Right, thanks!” Seth began to go up the stairs once again before stopping and turning. “Do you have a compass in your room?”

“Why do you need a compass?”

“Reasons. Yeah or no?”

Kendra rolled her eyes, barely. Lena looked between the two of them, a smile still prevalent on her face. “Use your own compass, I think you stole my last one. My only one, to remind you.”

Seth waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Fine. I’ll use one of my own.” He paused again. “If I can find one,” he said, mind wandering as he started back up the stairs, murmuring to himself.

Kendra continued walking down the steps, trying to ignore the pooling feeling in her gut, not of… dread. No, something much more wary that stirred in her, compelling her to follow. But, Kendra knew she had a duty, things she needed to do. She couldn’t be burdened to watch his every step anymore.

So, she continued down the echoing steps. Lena watched, almost seeming to evaluate Kendra’s actions. To the depths of her heart, Kendra wished to ignore any kind of judgment Lena had to offer. Lena had the ability to look through Kendra, see almost everything within her, more than Kendra often understood.

“Do you ever wonder what he’s doing?” Lena asked, innocently, as she continued down with Kendra.

“Sometimes.” Kendra shrugged. “I did when we were kids-”

“You both still are children-”

“-but I’ve almost given up. He’s everywhere at once, and I can't even attempt to keep up with him as well. There are plenty of other things that I need to keep my attention on. Besides, I have… bare minimum trust in him. I just hope he’s not taking that and running with it.”

“…He’s becoming the Captain of the Guard in around four years, is that correct?”

“Once he turns twenty, yes.” The door upstairs squeaked as it opened, slamming shut with a reverb. “And I have never been more concerned for this country’s safety than when I heard that news.”

Lena laughed, the sound casting itself back over the two of them, surrounding them, and the silence outside of Kendra, the rushed words within her, settled ever so slightly.

Smoke curled into whisps, rising high from the churchwarden pipe as another breath exited the man’s lips. The night’s chill rose to surround him, wrapping him in a shivering embrace as he stood in the middle of the immaculate garden, something belonging to the Burgess family. Cool metal dug into his back from a bench he leaned against, feeling much too restless to ever sit.

Dedicated, the bench claimed, to Marshall Burgess, an old king of Fablehaven. This ‘centerpiece’—one of many—professed legacy, money, and sophistication. Despite this, the man saw no beauty in it. All of the flowers in the garden were crafted carefully with Source magic, perfect down to the veins in the petals. Created for beauty, nothing more and nothing less.

Fake. The whole garden felt fake.

The man scoffed, taking another breath from the pipe as he moved away from the bench, closer to the lake. The lake, something more loved, a more permanent thing than anything else in the museum of a place, enticed him more. The lake had imperfections, rocks set deep into the earth with small plants growing up and over the stones. Flowers of all kinds, natural flowers, twisted up between the rocks. The water rippled with every wind, green tints from growth underneath peeking through. Fish flashed under the water between lily pads, and the man slowly brought himself to his full height as he watched.

The man rightfully believed the previous queen established the pond, many years before her abdication. She often frequented the quiet spot to sit and read with her husband while he lived. Now, it stood to be more of a sentimental place, people often said, where she sat in silence, in mourning and in grief.

Not that the man particularly cared. Better to know your opponents and understand the actions they may take, rather than be surprised by them at a later date. He knew how loyal she could be when it came to family, to those she loved. And, the man knew the treasures she held in the pits of the castle, unknown by most, even those who lived within the same walls. That became the thing that intrigued him.

Most of his… endeavors started on a smaller scale. A penny here, a silver piece there. Once he began to amass more followers, more friends, in his trade they began larger operations. A Duke left without his riches, a tax collector out of a job after all of the money he collected mysteriously disappeared. On and on, the man could name stories of people he had fucked over, and he would smile and laugh while telling the tale. Yet, this time, his hire offered him more money than he had ever seen in one place at a time—and the man had many times found himself in the vaults of rich nobles.

The man pulled each finger of the glove off of his hand, one at a time, sharp nails exposing themselves to clear air. He bent over, holding his hand above the water before a snap movement ended with a small fish in his hands. He watched it struggle for a moment before holding it above his head, letting it slip from his fingers into his mouth.

Of course, his mouth extended a little too far, his teeth a little too sharp in a few too many rows, covered by his gums. His tongue, a deep black color, flicked from his mouth as his illusion shuddered. No longer stood a rich, snobby prince. Instead, something more akin to, something better described as, a so-called monster stood in his place. Citizens, if they had seen him, would have raised their torches, calling for a hunt. Unbeknownst to them, one small note, one small hum, and he could easily lure them into an apathy or entice in them a sense of desire, whatever he wished.

The man quickly replaced his glove as he heard the faint noises of a door opening. It closed, swift and soft, without a noise. From it, a girl walked onto the path that led to an exit back to the town. She wore a lady-in-waiting’s dress, makeup foundations smeared across her hand and arm. She held a small clutch, and a hooded cloak laid over her head, short blond hair barely escaping its heavy folds. Her eyes, partially hidden, had a slight red quality to them, puffed as if she had been crying.

Emotion, as many people who worked with the man always eventually realized, stood as a weakness whenever he got involved. If he could weasel his way into one’s mind, through the olive branch they extended to him, he could control the direction of the situation. Charm had cost many people a fortune, and it had paid him back that same amount. He could earn what many people did in a lifetime’s amount of work with a simple bow and flourish.

“Um, hello!” The man called out, hearing his illusions skitter and bounce in the area back to his own ears. No longer low and grinding, his voice sounded high, much like a pubescent, snobby noble from a neighboring country. “Are you quite alright? I’m afraid I got the time wrong for when the Gala starts. I wondered if you would be able to help me with something.” He held out his gloved hand, and with a slight hum filling the air, the girl’s eyes began to grow a light purple sheen like a second eyelid.

“My name is Casey Hancock.”

With a slight hesitation quickly overruled by the growing purple tint sliding across her eyes, she took the man’s hand, shining in the pale moonlight, a reflection off of the lake.

“Alyssa Carter.”

Casey smiled wide. “Nice to meet you, Alyssa.”

The whisper floated through the night, the wind carrying it high into the stone building, and Kendra felt the hair on the back of her neck stand.

#fablehaven #dragonwatch #fhdw #kendra sorenson #alyssa carter #lena burgess #seth sorenson #casey hancock #lmdm au #hopefully we'll see the grandparents next chapter #fun fact I believe I never used the word was in this entire chapter? I could be wrong though #fhdw LMDM AU

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