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Lamorak always thought he would have trouble distancing himself from his feelings when the opportunity finally arose for his escape. It was almost pleasant when he found himself having trouble feeling anything at all.
The second born son of House Wales, with a childhood of nothing but joy. His mother’s love engulfed him in his younger years, but now that she was gone, the phantom pains of its absence seemed to suffocate him as the days marched on. An unfortunate victim of circumstance, miscommunication, and untreated misery. Deprived of the attention he silently cried for, misunderstood by those he considered loved ones. It all came together in this one moment, when his eyes met the moon, and he realized that if he doesn’t want to be a prince, doesn’t want to be a brother— he didn’t have to be. With his arsenal of talents, running away from it all would be child's play.
It was nighttime, and the castle was eerily quiet. Outside, the sky was crystal clear, the stars stationary in the dark azure. Lamorak sighed, fastening the buckle on his spellbooks. Old and worn, they took up a considerable amount of space in his bag, but their capabilities made them essentials. From healing incantations to spells capable of wrecking cyclonic destruction, they were probably the most valuable items he could have at the moment. He had already decided on not taking possessions of sentimental value if they weren’t useful, which meant he was going to be leaving a majority of the items in his room behind.
Lamorak briefly wondered what would happen to his room after he was gone. He pondered on whether they would leave his room as it is, or tear it apart in favor of making a new one. That, or if they’d rip through it looking for clues on his whereabouts.
No, there was no way they even consider that last one. No one really cared that much about him in the first place. His value only laid in his royal lineage, meaning his only use was being a replacement for if anything was to ever happen to Aglovale. The middle child, not as disciplined as the oldest, not as pampered as the youngest. His older brother was always accompanied by an unneeded attendant, and his younger brother’s needs were always provided in excess. It was an isolated life, and the omnipresent loneliness that came with it was driving Lamorak mad.
… It would no longer be his problem. If he was gone, then no one could even tell him that they missed him in the first place. He had grounding for this attitude, as in the past few years, he had been quietly slipping away from the castle grounds, disappearing for hours, then days, and once, even for a week. When he came back, he was greeted as if he had never even left in the first place. At least Percival was always eager to see him. That always made it a bit more bearable.
He hefted his bag up onto his bed, examining the supplies already inside. There was enough money to last literal years if he was smart about it, a week or two’s worth of rations, assorted toiletries, and various magical texts. Pondering on what else he could cram in, his room felt as though it had begun to mock him. He had always made an effort to make his quarters as lively as possible in contrast to the dull halls of the surrounding castle, hanging scarves and blankets across the ceiling, with the shelves being stuffed with absolutely purposeless but pleasing-looking trinkets. The floors were littered with books, empty potion bottles, and other objects that would be potentially hazardous to those who entered without forewarning. He’d been berated often about the alleged “untidy” nature of the room, but it’s not like he would listen in the first place.
Lamorak knew he couldn’t bring everything with him. Hell, he couldn’t even bring half of it- more accurately it was about an eighth of his belongings. Lingering on it would bring doubts, and doubts would bring second thoughts.
He had no time for either. Lamorak fastened all the buckles and locks on his bag, fumbling with the straps, and pulled it onto his shoulders. The thought didn’t cross his mind to check his appearance, as no one would be seeing him anyways. He would leave the way he always did- down the hall, staircase down the tower, a swift left, down to the lower level of the palace- the “research facility.” Very few people stood guard, as few people even knew it existed. The closely-guarded secret of the royal family- their talent with black magic, alongside their communication with the otherworld. A line of work which his father had been consumed by. There was a passage in the research facility leading out the backside of the building, and after that, he could make his way to the docks and sneak onto the first ship leaving. He'd never had a problem getting in and out, and should things go as planned, he would never need to find his way again.
Lamorak pulled his cloak over his head. He closed the windows to his room, then pulled the curtains shut. Opened the door, blew the candles out. Stepping outside, he closed the door behind him with his foot. Only slightly trying to stifle his presence, he went down the hall, turning through the arched doorway that lead to the southwestern tower’s stairs, and briskly walked down. Ducking to the side, he turned to the left, to a door that was like every other.
He breathed in, breathed out. Beginning to mutter the necessary incantation to unlock the door, he-
“S- Stop what you’re doing!”
Lamorak’s breath hitched sharply, and in his brief panic, completely froze. Nothing like this had ever happened before, he had never been caught-
No, it was okay. He could talk his way out of this. He always could. Another deep breath, and he turned around, relaxing his features. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the sight still caught him by surprise.
There stood his little brother, fingers pointed at him in a mock-pistol position, with a tiny flame at his fingertips. Lamorak briefly lamented on how he was almost torched by the twelve year-old practically shaking in front of him. Percival seemed to process who the cloaked figure was a bit late, staring at Lamorak’s face for a moment longer before he put his hands down, his face transitioning from a kind of fearful determination to almost complete confusion.
Lamorak’s stomach sank. It would’ve been so much easier if it was a guard, an advisor, literally anybody but Percival. He had gone during the night so that he wouldn’t have to tell others he was leaving. So that he wouldn’t have to tell his brothers, and see their reactions. Anger flared, but he forced a smile at Percival, the little act he was so used to performing coming to life.
“What’re you doing up so late, Percy?”
“I… I just couldn’t sleep. What are you doing?”
Percival had grown considerably in the former years, his edges becoming sharper, his feelings beginning to be harder to read. He was different from when they were young- when he was always smiling. That, or crying- he cried a lot too. He wasn’t nearly as bad as Aglovale, who was practically untouchable these days. Unreachable, unwilling, and unnecessarily cruel. They all coped with grief differently. Percival tried to toughen up, Aglovale “left” his weaknesses behind. That is, if you considered your siblings a weakness.
Despite everything, Lamorak never stopped having a soft spot for Percival. When he needed to cry, he was there for him. When he was lonely, he put on his most persistent (or annoying) persona and dragged him out. He helped him with his fire magic, specifically how to channel it better. Percival had an astonishing aptitude for magic, being capable of more raw destruction than anyone in his family before him. With that considered, he was … not so good at controlling it. Lamorak tried his best, tried to be as patient as possible with him. Always.
Which is why this was going to hurt, no matter what. His mind was made up, he was going to get out of here. No matter what. He had seen Percival cry practically a million times before, but it would be very different when those tears were his fault.
“You couldn’t sleep...? Is something bothering you? Do ya wanna—“
“Lamorak,” Percival sighed, “What are you doing?”
“No need to get all worked up. I’m just heading out for a bit, nothing new.”
”Really…? What’s with the cloak? And the really… big… bag…” Percival said, frowning as he trailed off.
Lamorak could feel guilt clawing at his insides. The first option that came to mind was knocking him out, dropping him off in his quarters, and then running off. However, that was awful, and he didn’t really want to do that. He could outrun Percival by a long shot, but that was also awful.
The truth. Unfortunately, he had to tell him the truth.
“Percy, I—“
“You’re running away, aren’t you?” Percival fidgeted with his fingers, looking down. “You’re running away.”
“Ah— seems you caught me.” He laughed, shrugging, his eyes rolling to the side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘running away’, though. Leaving. I’m just leaving.”
“Leaving, huh…” Percival couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “This isn’t funny, Lamorak.”
“C’mon, don’t think like that. Wouldn’t it be better to get me off your case? You don’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.” Lamorak shifted, placing a hand on his hip. “You’ll be fine, Percy.”
“I… but…”
“You’ve been making great progress recently with your combat training,” he said, noticing how his own hamfisted words were beginning to grate on his ears. “I don’t think you need me helping you anymore.”
Percival visibly hesitated, still not meeting Lamorak’s eyes.
“But… but I… I want you to be here. Even if I can do it on my own, I…”
How annoying, he thought to himself. He forced out a small chuckle.
“I’m leaving, Percival. I’ve made my choice.”
Percival finally snapped up, meeting Lamorak's stare, hot tears bubbling from his eyes. “But why—! Why are you running away—!?”
“There’s no place for me here.” he responded nonchalantly. “There’s a world I’m not seeing, and I can’t stand it.”
This wasn’t a complete lie. Lamorak had always craved the freedom he saw in his people, unbound by the chains of heritage. He’d always rather be in the library instead of attending his etiquette lessons; rather be experimenting with magical substances than sparring with his older brother. But that wasn’t why he was leaving. The familiar numbness of feeling everything and yet nothing at all persisted, and he was ready to just walk away from this conversation. It was getting to be too aggravating.
All too quickly, there were arms wrapped firmly around his middle. Percival squeezed his torso, burying his chest. It was then Lamorak realized just how much his little brother was trembling, and he could now clearly hear the stifled sobs against his chest.
“Y-you’re not fair,” Percival cried, “you’re always— always so unfair...”
Lamorak didn’t know what he was feeling. He knew this was going to happen. He knew his brother’s mind better than anyone. He put an arm loosely around Percival, finding it was harder to breathe. In the end, it was all some sort of sick joke on him. It always was.
“When did you learn to play so dirty, Percy? You’re the one not being fair.”
He didn’t want their relationship to be left off on this note; he didn’t want Percival to think of him as being that cruel. If there was anything him and his brothers all mutually understood, it was how awful it can be to have someone you love ripped from your life in the blink of an eye. Percival hiccuped, and Lamorak could feel him cling tighter. He weakly tried to push Percival off, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Hey, Percy... Percy, it’s okay. Look at me.”
Percival sniffled, looking up.
“Listen… how about I walk you back to your room, and—“
“No…” he whined.
“Well, okay. Then… alright. Follow me.”
Although hesitant, Percival loosened his grip around his brother, and took a step away. Lamorak put his bag down next to the still-closed door, and began walking down the hall. Percival blinked, and then hurried after. The duo went side-by-side for a short while before Percival grabbed Lamorak’s hand, in which the latter instinctively squeezed back.
They walked the next few minutes in silence, before finally coming upon a familiar door.
Using his free hand, Lamorak pushed the door open. The pair walked through into the old and dark room, and after a moment, Lamorak snapped his fingers, and dim flames appeared on the candles around them.
Their environment came to life, and before them laid a room long abandoned by time. Toys and stuffed animals were stuffed messily into shelves, some still on the floor. There were board games stacked against all around, and against a wall, a bunk bed and one twin-sized bed. The proper sheets and bedding were long gone, with only a white sheet laid across the bare mattresses. It took a second for Lamorak to notice that the old bed sheets hadn’t even been properly stored-- they were folded on the shelves, alongside many other worn throw blankets.
It was the room they once shared, turned playroom. Now empty, used only as a lounge. Formerly decorated, the mood had changed drastically when seen in an abandoned state like this. The curtains were firmly pulled shut, tied with an ornate rope. The windows they masked were massive, and had a small nook to sit and read in. They were also, as their mother often stressed, an incredible safety hazard, as the windows opened all the way, so it was very easy to go careening out. Eventually, they installed a small gate to prevent the children from falling 80 feet to their deaths.
As Lamorak observed the room in its current state, his stomach twisted. When he looked around the room, and saw a trio of brothers laughing and playing, arguing and fighting. He saw the nights spent with a small candle, up reading when he wasn’t supposed to. He saw the scorch mark from a spring many years ago.
He saw himself, crammed onto the top bunk with his older brother. The two of them had been trying to learn spells on their own, with Aglovale annotating a text as Lamorak drew on the margins. Aglovale initially told Lamorak to stop, before he got frustrated realizing that despite all the highlighted text, he wasn’t processing the material at all. Lamorak ended up giving him a marker, and the two practically defiled the parchment with inane cartoons.
Despite being the older two, they had managed to get into plenty of trouble in their younger years, with Aglovale being the perpetrator many more times than he’d ever admit. At the time, it was harmless fun, and he didn’t mind taking the blame.
But Aglovale wasn’t here right now. It was just Percival and Lamorak.
His younger self’s influence was everywhere, and he hated it. He looked upon that child with disdain and envy, for when he laughed, it was genuine. When that child spoke, he meant every word, more or less. He loved his family, and he loved his kingdom.
“What are we doing in here…?”
Lamorak let go of Percival’s hand, and walked over to the curtains. He untied the rope, and pulled the curtains open. Wiping the dust off the window panes with his gloved hands, he then pushed them open. The cold night air spilled into the room.
“Feeling sentimental, I suppose.” he said in an unintentionally low voice.
“What’s going on? Are you still leaving—?”
He didn’t respond, instead striding over to the shelf and pulling a throw blanket off and over the shoulders. He turned to Percival and smiled.
“D’ya remember when we used to stay up late to look at the stars together? We’d sneak out of bed, get a blanket, and—“
“Lamorak…” Percival muttered, looking down.
“Ah… sorry. Either way, c’mon. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
Lamorak smiled once more, and sat down on the carpet, facing the window. Percival seemed defeated by this point. He went over to his brother and sat down next to him. Lamorak immediately put an arm around him, wrapping him in the blanket. Outside, the idle sounds of crickets could be heard in the silence.
“You’re awful.” Percival’s voice was shaking.
“Really? Do you mean that, Percy?”
Percival stuttered out a slur of words before just sighing and scooting closer to his brother. Lamorak spoke again.
“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. Final verdict.” The words rolled out gently, not at all fitting of the context.
They were silent for a moment before it became apparent Percival was trying not to cry. The effort against it proved fruitless, with him seeming very frustrated with himself, closing his eyes as tears ran down his face.
“Please don’t go… please— please don’t go, Lamorak…” he whispered, grabbing at his brother’s shirt before the motion evolved into a hug. “I… I don’t want to fall asleep. You’ll be gone when I wake up…”
Lamorak froze, with Percival repeating his pleas through choked sobs. It felt as though his heart was being twisted, hearing Percival beg so desperately against the path he had chosen for himself.
What a crybaby, he remarked to himself, ignoring how his eyes were stinging. Lamorak felt guilt flare in his chest, followed by anger. Towards what wasn’t clear— he didn’t know if he was angry at himself or at Percival for having an entirely normal reaction to the situation at hand. Like always, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and placed those feelings to the side.
“I’ll come back, Percy. It’s not like this is the last time we’ll ever see each other. I’ll try to visit you sometime.”
“D-Do you mean that?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. I wouldn’t just… up and leave forever.”
“... okay. If… if you say so.” Percival was hesitant, but his breathing was slowing. He began to relax more, but still held onto Lamorak. Lamorak didn’t try to push him off this time.
He reminded himself that everything was still going according to plan, and pushed through with a resolution long stirring. Time went on, and the two spoke to one another about anything that came to mind. While it wasn’t especially stimulating to Lamorak, he felt an obligation to humor Percival in this circumstance. His annoyance died down as their banter continued, and he found it being much less of an inconvenience than he originally thought.
Percival was growing tired, looking resigned in the moments where conversation dulled. The fiery determination previously fueling him was petering out. He kept yawning, then shaking himself into awareness. This could only go on for so long, though.
“... Percy, you still with me?”
“Mm.”
“Can you remember something for me?”
“Mm… depends.”
Lamorak internally chuckled at the honesty of Percival’s response. “When I’m gone, I want you to remember that we’ll always be under the same stars.”
“Huh…? What do you mean…?”
“You know how no matter where you go, it’s always the same sky? Everyone always sees the same thing… the same moon, same sun. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in a forest or a desert, we’re all united by that, I suppose.”
“I think I understand… ” Percival trailed off.
“Sorry for suddenly waxing poetic. What I mean is, if you’re ever lonely, just know I’m not going too far. There’s only so many islands to run off to. I’ll always be your older brother, and I’ll always try my best to be there for you.” He told himself that was really only saying this to make Percival feel better.
Percival was silent, before shifting into a more comfortable position.
“Thanks, Lamorak.” he said, quietly.
Lamorak smiled, and for once, didn’t find himself forcing it in the slightest. “Love ya, Percy.”
“Mm… you too.”
His feelings seemed to melt away as he stared out the window, finding himself getting lost in the moment. All this talk about the sky, stars... what a load of bull. To him, the stars were just that: stars. They didn't do anything- it's not like they had ever helped him. When he pulled himself out of his own thoughts, Percival had fallen asleep against him. He thought about how this would be the last time he’d be seeing his baby brother for a very, very long time. He wondered if he’d find himself missing him.
Probably not, he thought, perhaps unconsciously trying to convince himself. He gently guided Percival arms back to his own sides, being careful not to wake him. The blanket encasing the two of them was easily removed, with Lamorak neatly folding it, then placing it on the floor. He positioned himself to heft Percival onto his back, an action easier than he thought it would be. Physical strength had never been his forte. The moments after went smoothly, to the point where they were almost forgettable. He carried Percival back to his room, laid him back into his bed, took one last look at the latter, and then closed the door behind him.
He returned to where he left his belongings, taking barely any time to get them re-equipped to his person. Once again, he stood in front of the door he was previously caught at, and muttered the incantation for it to unlock. The click was quiet, but music to his ears. Down the blackened stairs, through the barren halls.
He ran his hand along a wall, thinking back on all the runes he had practiced with them. Not visible to a normal skyfarer’s eyes, their usages ranged from small storage compartments to straight-up summoning circles. Nothing apocalyptic, of course. At least, he didn’t use them for anything of the sort. It was almost sickening to think about how his influence was scattered among the moody underground corridors and all about the castle above, so obvious to him, but nonexistent to anyone else. Lamorak had long ago come to the conclusion that not many people were allowed down here in the first place. He would've found out sooner or later— in his apathetic boredom, every inch of his father’s written research had been experimented with.
Perhaps one day, he’d find himself in these halls again. His messy magical residue could be easily weaponized if he so pleased. Maybe he’d come back to “borrow” some forbidden scrolls, or to collect some old artifact of his youth. He knew they’d most likely be right where he last saw them, like always.
The passageway leading to the outside of the castle was long, but he knew his way around. The moon’s light struck his face as he emerged, with him easily slipping out of the walls of his royal prison. The capital’s city was stone quiet, not a soul loitering on the streets, a major contrast to the loud and crowded market during the daytime. As he went down the muted stone pathway, a cat ran by his feet, taking shelter in a citizen’s backyard’s shrubs.
He had to wait. Lamorak sat near the docks, his bags pressed against him. He watched the sky’s colors change, and time went by slower than it ever had. So close, he was so close to leaving it all behind. Minutes felt like an eternity to him. Nonetheless, the moon disappeared, and was rivaled by the warm colors creeping across the horizon. Like clockwork, the city began to wake.
A ship docked. It belonged to a trader, and was rather small. The trader wasn’t even docking to sell his wares— just to pick up something from a friend. In no way was it what he was looking for, but in his desperation, he approached the owner, forked over a decent amount of money, and was granted passage. Dodging every question on his identity and motives, he just promised not to make a noise and to leave on the next island they were stopping at. The man was deeply hesitant, clearly not wanting to get in trouble. Lamorak presumed that all his yammering wore the poor seller down.
Just like that, the ship was gone by the time morning had properly arrived, and with it, Lamorak had disappeared from Wales. Later in the day, Percival would wake to a residence devoid of the familiar comfort offered by his older brother; no much-needed laughter echoing down the halls. Aglovale would go about his usual routine, and he would be interrupted during a grueling sparring lesson by his youngest brother, telling him that Lamorak had left. He would attempt to halfheartedly comfort Percival, assuring him that after a few days, Lamorak would be back; that there was no need to worry. Percival’s protests would fall to deaf ears, and he would leave frustrated.
A week would go by, and Aglovale was still not worried. He continued his descent into kinghood with as much diligence as he could maintain. Percival would be trying to pick himself up, but there was no one to genuinely encourage him anymore.
Two weeks passed. Although difficult to admit, Aglovale was now concerned, and approached Percival on the issue. The younger would end up becoming furious at him, proclaiming how he wasn’t taken seriously on the issue when he had brought it up previously. His anger reaching a climax when Percival unintentionally lit the carpet underneath them aflame, something solved immediately by Aglovale’s resourcefulness and magic. No conclusion was drawn from the argument, with Percival fleeing the scene to take recluse in his own quarters.
A month went by, and the king ordered a search party to be sent out by his sons’ insistence. The knights ripped through every corner of the territory, and found nothing, nobody. The panic period didn't last as long as the brother's would've liked it to. After a designated amount of time passed, the residents began to act as though Lamorak was never there in the first place. Soon after, the searches were discontinued, and he was considered a lost cause. Aglovale and Percival were forced to move on without him; grow stronger despite the growing void between the two of them.
The indisputable fact was that Lamorak was gone. He left no clues of where he went, what he was doing, and if he was ever coming back.
Years went by. An indescribable number of events shaped the two remaining brothers. Their relationship hit an all time low, followed by the most communication they've had since childhood. It was comforting, being able to fall back on family.
In the present day, Percival often found himself gazing at the night sky, reflecting on what his other brother had told him. At the time, they had kept him going. Nowadays, Percival sometimes wondered if they had truly meant anything at all. Trying to trust in those now-ancient words of comfort proved difficult during his low points.
They’d always be under the same stars. He silently hoped that maybe someday, those stars would guide Lamorak home.