Chapter Text
Fifteen years ago, a young boy was carrying a young girl on his back. The girl, hair dark as charcoal and eyes green like emeralds, rested her chin on his shoulder, whispering into his left ear.
"You okay Robin? You've been carrying me for half an hour now. We… You should take a rest."
"I'm fine. This is what friends do, right? I carry you when you sprain your ankle, and you cook me dinner every day for the rest of our lives." His answer won him a light chuckle from her. "And it'll be night soon. We can't have your mother worried you know."
"Thanks." She said, ruffling his brown hair playfully, netting her a "Stop it!" from him. She tightened her arm around the boy's neck, not too tight, just enough for them to feel each other's warmth in the chilly evening.
Fifteen years ago, a young girl went to town with her parents to celebrate her seventh birthday. It was almost dusks, and they were sightseeing in the capitol before the celebration. It was also her first time seeing so many people gather in one place at any one time. The buildings were big, and beautiful lights illuminated the road. She halted her steps, admiring the scenery.
"Cordelia honey!" A voice quite some distance (for a child that is) in front of her snapped the girl out of her reverie. She looked to its direction to see a woman and a man smiling at her. "Hurry up, or we'll be late." The woman said, waving her hand.
"Yes, mother." The girl answered, quickly pacing to her parents. She tripped halfway through but managed to pick herself back up. She patted her new blouse a couple times and continued towards the adults. The red-haired lady picked her up and gave her a peck on both cheeks, making her giggled. The trio made their way to their destination.
Fifteen years ago, a young boy was helping his father in their workshop.
"Just be careful, 'right? Can't have yer hands burn now." He nodded at his father's caution. Taking a deep breath, and gulping the lump in his throat a few times, the boy grabbed a pair of metal tongs and reached into the blazing forge in front of him. Feeling with the tool, he grabbed his target and brought out a lump of smelted metal. He placed the scorching red steel on a nearby anvil and looked to his father.
"Good. I'mma start slow, 'kay?" The man reached for his hammer and proceeded to 'pat' the lump slowly.
Fifteen years ago, a young boy was waiting in a room full of other children. He looked across the room from where he was sitting. The boys and girls were wearing rough shirt and pants, both white in color, just like him. After some time, the only door to the room opened to reveal a person wearing a red cloak with the hood covering the head standing at the entrance.
"Number one-seven-three-nine. Your turn." A woman. The boy slowly stood up and made his way towards her.
The door was closed once again as soon as he stepped outside. A faint click could then be heard, followed by footsteps getting away.
Fifteen years ago, a young girl was preparing a pot of tea. The master of the house was returning for the first time in two months. She never met her master. Apparently, he was a high ranking official of the Plegian Court, or so they said. The young maid paced through the kitchen, putting some light snacks on a metal tray and checking the temperature of the water. She stopped a few times to tighten her too-big-for-her apron. Making sure she had all the things in place, she brought the metal tray outside.
Fifteen years ago, a father was showing his daughter the fate of an alleged thief.
"Look at him." He said.
And that was exactly what the girl did. She just looked at the man, bruised and bloodied, begging for mercy from the guards having their way with him. She winced at every kick and blow from the men wearing the royal armors. Her father put his hand on the girl's shoulder. She looked at the Mark of Naga on his left hand with the corner of her eyes and raised her head to look at her father.
"Those lowlife Plegians thought they could come in our house and sullied our great halidom with their filthy blood." Her father's voice was full of malice, and she felt his grasp tightened on her shoulder.
Fifteen years ago, flames of war flickered at the words of one man. It burned two neighboring countries for years to come.