Chapter Text
It had been raining outside for days now. Guards were happy to spend some time indoors instead of watching muddy tracks left by horses - as if anyone would be stupid enough to try and misbehave in that damn weather. Caitlyn had heard them muttering behind the door to her room; that it was unfair to stand outside getting involuntarily bathed by nature, that the king was just paranoid as he always was. She gave a little chuckle at that.
The king is a coward. Dangerous words to even think of inside the castle, especially right outside the princess's room. Yet she was not the slightest bit upset by it.
Mostly because they knew she silently agreed with them.
Ferris was not the most confident, not in his rule, not in his life as a whole. The only time he was ever confident at all was in getting rid of the last heir.
And look how that turned out, she used to tell him. You murdered your own brother.
It took her a long time to finally muster up the courage to outright accuse him of murder, although the thought had been spinning on the very tip of her tongue for a very long time. And even then, all Ferris did was give her a blank stare and tell her handmaiden to make sure she gets to her room safely – his tone was not threatening but condescending enough to make her blood boil - and that was the end of it.
Caitlyn twirled a strand of hair, wet from standing by the window too long, on her finger. She could feel her lips twisting. She loved her brother, she did. But it had been getting harder and harder to convince herself of that lately.
For a long, long time, she had been forcing herself to believe there was a good person somewhere down there and that her sisterly love had a reason other than 'he's my brother'.
But then, then she remembered sitting by his bed, watching him try to sleep away the sudden nausea. None of them knew where it came from. Later, she did. Later, when he had put a hand on her shoulder, when she saw dark eyes growing darker and darker, and heard a silent whisper. He was afraid of anyone hearing, and she never remembered him being afraid at all.
He's trying to kill me.
He's trying to kill me. And with enough time, Cat, he'll do it.
'I fell', everyone else had been told. To her it was revealed - 'He tried to split my skull open.'
She remembered teaching him how to stitch up his own wounds. She remembered stitching the one right above his eyebrow, which he couldn't see.
Then, she remembered latching onto him right before that fishing trip. She did not want to let go. She had been tormented by looming dread for the whole week.
She remembered crying when he did not come back.
She remembered grieving one brother when she was supposed to cherish the other.
And she knew how little she could love someone like Ferris.
Caitlyn shook her head, standing up and stretching a bit to clear out her thoughts. It had been a long time. She should finally try and forget.
Curiously, she poked her head out to say hello to the guards. She'd been known to do that, she'd been known to be lenient and chatty, and she didn't fight those rumours. They were by far the best ones – and, perhaps the most truthful ones - to circle around her.
The young guard - she hadn't seen him before - perked up, clearly startled.
"Your Highness," he rushed to a greeting, a bit louder than most. Caitlyn smiled at him, not particularly wishing to address the fact that she overheard light treason.
"Sir," she nodded, closing the door behind her and leaning back on it. Resting intertwined fingers by her stomach as was polite, she watched him shift, uncomfortable in his standing. He really is young, she thought, and immediately brushed it off. Around my age, most likely. "How's the watch going?"
He stared for a second, red-faced, before remembering he had to give an answer.
"It's... It's calm, Your Highness."
"That's too bad, then." Caitlyn refrained from winking at him, as she did when in company of guards she knew better. This one might take anything the wrong way.
"Too bad, Your Highness?" He stammered. She closed her eyes at the address briefly. He had some sort of an accent, Araluenian, but not quite. Curious.
"Rather dull, I mean. If I was standing guard, I'd wish for war every second." Not quite princess-like, she swished her arm to the side. "Battle! War! One and the same, really."
Silently, so silently it was barely audible, he disagreed: "I'm sorry, but- It’s, err, I’d think... Not quite."
"No?" Caitlyn tilted her head. He was starting to talk.
"Well, you see, Your Highness--"
"Ditch it."
"I beg your pardon?"
She waved her hand. "The title, ditch it. 'Princess' is alright. Nothing - even better."
He froze for a second, swallowing the order. Then, bowing his head just slightly, he repeated, "I think that battle and war are not completely the same, Princess."
She crossed her arms. "I hear you. What's the difference, then?"
"War is- War. It's more about... politics," he tried, immediately adding, "Not that it's not important, but, um, battle is personal. It's when you have a sword by your throat and three bloody fellows in front of you, and your own sword is somewhere behind you in a puddle. And there are no rules. Even if there were, nobody would uphold them, because battle is unfair. By, uh, by nature. And war is such a big thing. It doesn't touch you, it's distant, in a way, and battle, battle's right in front of you--"
He abruptly fell quiet, undoubtedly regretting even uttering a word. In front of the Princess, no less. The aforementioned Princess, however, was looking at him with wide eyes, very interested indeed.
"You've been to battle?" She asked. He shook his head, eyes planted on the ground.
"My brother's been," he said, and his tone was hoarse. "And he's been to war, too."
Caitlyn understood.
"And the battle did not return him," she guessed. Hesitantly, he nodded.
"The war did. It returned a formal notice and the body, but it was the battle that took his life."
Caitlyn followed his gaze, looking down at the ground herself. They'd only known each other for a short while, and she already felt closer to him.
"I hear you," she repeated, stepping toward him and then to the other side, toward the halls. She wanted nothing less but distraction from the topic of dead brothers, and yet she got this instead. "I'm sorry."
"I am also, Princess-" he raised a hand politely, stopping her in a tone that had shifted all too suddenly. Polite. Formal, even. "You're to stay in your chambers."
"...A singular chamber, you mean. My room." She sighed, unable to help it. "You're telling me I'm grounded." Gracing him with a half-smile, she looked up at the ceiling. "It's Ferris, isn't it?"
He offered an apologetic look. "Yes, those are the orders of the King."
"And what a King," Caitlyn said, words drenched in irony. "Well, I'm not a child. He can't ground me. You can tell him that."
She turned to go, but - to her surprise - the young guard gently took her by the sleeve, careful not to touch her arm itself. Chivalry at its finest, I suppose.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I must see you to your room."
Caitlyn watched those courageous eyes with a sting of sadness in her own.
"Come on. I'll--" Softly, she tried: "--I'll only go and see my husband. Ferris allows me that much."
Keighan wasn't in the castle today. Out on business, as he'd say. But the guard did not know that, and she had never been a bad liar.
And yet, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he repeated, gesturing toward the door.
Caitlyn stared for a second, wistful, and gave up. She could've run, she was relatively speedy under all those skirts, but... Oh, there’s no point in any of this anyway. She had no one to run to, really. No reason to run off just because she felt like being silly, not anymore. Besides, she’d only be getting this poor boy into trouble. Before closing the door, the princess nodded.
"It was nice to see someone new, and yet..." She pressed her lips together, and the guard bowed his head.
"I'm only following orders, Princess." He looked sympathetic. There was no doubt nobody had locked him in his room, but the discipline in training was intimidating.
"I know. And so I hope we talk again."
Before he could reply, she closed the door and sighed, leaning on it. It was much easier to convince the other guards to just let her wander for a bit. Not that she did anything significant during her nightly walks. She just lingered on the past too much, these days. The past is gone, Ferris would often say. She shook her head. Only when you don't want to learn from it, she'd bite back, and Ferris would look at her with those empty eyes again and shoo her away with a flick of his finger.
He never learned, not really. There was nothing for him to learn, not yet. But--
Caitlyn was sure a lesson would come eventually. How big of a lesson, she could not predict. A revolt, perhaps, or maybe just a small uprising. Or maybe someone who's completely bored of living will just put a knife through him when he's outside.
Oh, but who was she kidding. Ferris was paranoid. Having killed his own brother, he constantly glanced over his shoulder, expecting another to do the same.
She hated it. It was not her place to dictate his orders, but he was no ruler. He was a self-serving king alike the other five. Hibernia was in shambles. Her home had always been in shambles, for as long as she could remember it. Under her grandfather's rule, under her father's and now under her brother's.
And, amidst those shambles, she stood.
Caitlyn lingered by the window for an unintentionally long while, watching the wind ruffle the reddening leaves and getting covered by the coat of rain. The sun rose again, and she watched it bleed into the clouds, never truly showing herself.
Exhausted, she drifted in and out of consciousness, listening as one guard changed another outside her door.