Chapter Text
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His blood pounds in his ears, his muscles aching, protesting against every movement he makes but he grits his teeth and goes faster. Pushes harder.
Please, he silently begs to anyone listening, please be alive.
༄༅
Thwack!
Tumbling head over heels, a lithe body launches a few feet in the air and lands on the dusty ground in a tangled mess of limbs. A groan escaped the heap, its owner blinking up at the sky with startling sea-blue eyes, dazed and semi-annoyed.
“Really? Did you have to hit me that hard?” He says, turning his head to stare at a figure in front of him. Their body towers over him in both muscle mass and height, casting an imposing shadow over him. The figure offers their hand, to which the boy accepts reluctantly. Pulling himself up, he dusts dirt particles off of his white linen tunic and pouts at the muddy stains now lining some of the seams.
“You should know how to avoid that move, Lance. We’ve been practising for years.”
Lance grumbles in annoyance, tilting his chin up to meet gunmetal grey eyes.
“Well I’m sorry Shiro, but not everyone can be as naturally talented as you when it comes to sword fighting. Who do you think I am, a knight?”
The figure- Shiro, frowns at the smaller boy, his eyes darting towards the wooden practise sword that Lance had dropped after his fall. “You’re the prince, Lance. You need to know this.”
Ha, ‘prince.’ Sometimes, Lance feels anything but.
Once upon a time, when his mother ruled over the human lands of Katolis and before his father abandoned him, he might have been respected in that title, but not anymore. He was an only child, his father leaving the queen before his birth, and for a long time, it was just him and his mother against the world. His mother may have had the burden of ruling the human side of Xadia, but Lance had still been smothered in her affections and love. Then, eleven deca-phoebs ago, Queen McClain re-married to noble Lord Garrett, and suddenly Lance had a step-father who was never more than indifferent to him and was forced to share his mother’s love. The only good thing that came out of the royal marriage was his awesome older step-brother, Hunk, and a renewed spark in his mother’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before.
Yet good times could never last. Barely two years into the marriage and at the tender age of nine, a Moonshadow Elf attack on the castle took the life of Queen McClain.
No words could describe how broken Lance had felt when he got the news. No longer did he have anyone that was truly his family in every way of the word. Sure, he still had a step-father who barely spared him a passing glance, and a step-brother who was the best sibling he could ever ask for, but it wasn’t the same.
Now, only a few days past the age of eighteen, Lance McClain, is technically a prince, yet it’s Hunk who is in line for the throne.
But hey, that doesn’t bother him! Leading a whole quiznaking country isn’t something he ever wanted to do. Still, Lance wishes that just once, he could be known for something more than the dead queen’s son, or the scrawny step-prince.
Lance looks down at his feet, a faint blush spreading across his tanned, freckled cheeks. It was no secret that he isn’t the greatest fighter by any means. He still hasn’t fully grown into his gangly limbs yet, nor did he possess the sturdy finesse needed for the art of sword fighting.
Shiro places a hand on his shoulder, a motion meant to be reassuring but only makes Lance feel even worse. Disappointing Shiro always felt like disappointing your dad (or something. Lance never feels like that when he gets on King Garrett’s bad side).
“You’ll get it one day. All you need to do is practise.” The knight promises, his voice is cool and collected as always, soothing in a familiar way.
Lance snorts, not believing Shiro’s words. Stars, he wishes he could be as good as the knight at fighting. Combat, particularly sword fighting, is always praised in Katolis, while the things Lance is actually proficient in (drawing, climbing down the castle to sneak out and steal jelly tarts, and textiles) were not sightly for someone or his calibre.
“Doubt it,” Lance says, the words bitter on his tongue, “I’ll never get it right. Besides, you know I’m a better archer.”
And a better archer he was. Human nobility often turned their cheeks towards long-ranged fighting, especially archery, though Lance found that despite his next-to-nothing training with bows, the motions came naturally to him. Of course, King Garett would never let him have one. Never would he let his steps-son learn a ‘coward’s’ weapon. Too bad the King couldn’t see the bow stashed underneath Lance’s bed.
Shiro looks like he was going to say more, but Lance isn’t having it.
“Whatever, I’m done.” Lance huffs, turning his back to his mentor. “It’s almost sundown anyways. I’m tired.”
Shiro doesn’t say anything. Lance goes to walk away but stops as a metal hand is placed on his shoulder. He turns around, and sees Shiro yet again looking down at him, this time with a small smile on his face.
“You did well, Lance.” the knight says, his voice softer than the step-prince had ever heard before. “I’m proud of you.”
Lance can’t fight the furious blush that spreads across his cheeks. Even if Shiro said it out of sympathy, Lance would do anything to get the knight’s praise. Impressing him meant a lot to the step-prince.
“Thanks, Shiro,” he says, lowering his eyes to avoid looking at the older man. “See ya tomorrow.”
Lance rushes off, hearing a loud reply of ‘see you tomorrow!’ as he runs inside the castle. Ugh, sword fighting always took so much energy out of him. All he wanted to do was have a nice long shower and sleep. But when he got to his room after managing to avoid most of the castle staff (none of them had high opinions of him due to antics and various pranks over the years), the step-prince couldn’t find the strength to do anything other than sleep.
Lance strips down until the only thing he wears is dirtied socks and a pair of boxers and jumps onto his bed with great vigour, not bothering to shower, get changed, or even do one of his nightly sketches. He was too mentally drained to do anything other than sleep. Resting allows him to think back, to daydream, about a life where he isn’t so much of a scrawny screwup with no real princely qualities, a life where his mother is still alive and father never left him.
One day, his mind darts to his father, I’ll find him. Whether in good faith or not, Lance doesn’t know. If he could even locate him after eighteen years of abandonment, what would he say? ‘Oh hey, you left me as a baby and gave me major daddy issues?’ God, he was pathetic sometimes.
Lance stuffs his face into his silken blue pillow, groaning in the hopes that his thoughts would take a lighter turn.
Lying on his bed, the lack of motion does nothing to quell the white noise at the back of his head. While the calming sounds of the outside breeze lulled him into a more tired state, Lance’s body simply refused to fall asleep. It was as if something was stopping him, telling his body to stay awake and alert.
Screw it. Huffing, Lance throws his blankets off of him and slowly rolls out of bed, the cold night air biting at his skin. Slipping on his blue lion slippers and fluffy royal blue-and-yellow robe, the step-prince slowly makes his way to his bedroom door and twists the handle, wincing when it squeaks.
“Why am I not surprised?” A voice calls from the hallway.
Lance yells in shock, jumping a couple inches in the air.
“Hunk! What are you doing awake? It’s like midnight.”
Hunk raises a brow. “What are you doing awake?” He counters, not suspicious but not dismissive.
Sheepishly, Lance smiles and rubs the back of his neck guiltily. “I, uh, don’t know. Couldn’t sleep.”
As his eyes adjust to the darkness of the hallways, the step-prince sees Hunk wearing the same robe and slippers as him, just in a yellow and orange colour scheme. The warm hues make Hunk look regal, strong and worthy to be the future king (-once upon a time, Lance was the future king, not his step-brother. But he couldn’t let himself hold any grudges).
Hunk nods in understanding. “Yeah, I could tell.” Lance shoots him an incredulous expression, to which his step-brother shrugs. “Every time you sneak out, you get this antsy look on your face like a day before.”
Lance groans. Of course, Hunk would pick up on his nighttime habits.
“I’m in the mood for a jelly tart. Sue me.”
Hunk snorts derisively, without any hint of malice. He wears an expression that doesn't seem like he believes Lance, yet holds his tongue and doesn’t push.
“Well come on then, let’s raid the kitchens!” Hunk’s cheery tone invigorates Lance with a new dose of energy. The two step-brothers share a mischievous grin with each other, before dashing off as quietly as they could towards the kitchens.
Midnight escapades with Hunk were the only things Lance looks forward to these days. Without any real friends outside of his step-brother, permission to pursue the art of archery, or ability to leave the castle, life as a prince was honestly quite boring. He and Hunk used to spend so much more time together before King Garett started placing more and more duties on Hunk (and unsurprisingly none on Lance).
Lance’s strained relationship with his step-father aside, the step-prince revelled in their adventure, savouring the rush of doing something they weren’t supposed to. Adrenaline pumps through his veins.
Sure, he wasn't doing something like slaying a dragon or battling elves at The Breach, but the low-stakes of their nighttime escapades made everything all the more enjoyable. It wasn’t like Lance was doing something illegal. Technically.
Well, they were sneaking around in the vents of the castle, but no one would dare arrest the princes.
“Shhh, quiet down,” Hunk hisses at him as they rounded a corner to the bakery. Lance tries to stifle his childish giggling. “we don’t want to wake up Iverson.”
“Iverson’s a grumpy old quiznak, he wouldn't be awake at this time of night.” the step-prince shoots back in a hushed whisper.
Crouching down, Lance peers through the grate, staring out at the darkened bakery. It was completely bare, save for rows of cooling trays and lines of delicious jelly tarts placed on top. From his lower angle Lance struggles to see what flavour they were, but judging from the saccharine fumes filling the room they must be some sort of jelly, probably strawberry.
“Coast is clear,” Lance says, assessing his surroundings, “and there are enough jelly tarts for us to take some without him noticing.”
Hunk raises an eyebrow. “How do you know? It’s too dark for me to see anything.”
Shrugging, Lance turns to his brother. “Your eyesight must be terrible, bro.”
They both snort, knowing full well that Hunk’s sight wasn’t the greatest compared to Lance’s. It’s the reason why the step-prince was good at archery or even hide-and-seek.
“You ready?” Hunk murmurs.
“As I’ll ever be,” Lance replies back.
Sharing a mischievous grin, the two princes didn’t have to say anything to each other to know their plan. In a swift motion, Hunk pries the grate off of the vent, sliding it to the side carefully so that no noise was made. Quickly, they both launch out of their hiding place. Lance runs over to the trays, gesturing for Hunk to come closer.
“Hurry! Take some before Iverson notices!”
They both stuff their pockets and hands full of the tarts, uncaring if any jelly got on their silken robes. In their frenzied grabs, neither Lance nor Hunk were fully aware of their surroundings.
Thump.
Lance drops the jelly tart he was holding. Uh oh.
Turning around to stare at his brother, he sees that Hunk wore the same panicked expression he did. Before they could say anything, however, a door opens right in front of them, revealing a large man shadowed by light filtering from behind.
“It’s Iverson! Run!” Yelling, Hunk dashes towards the back door, yanking it open.
Ignoring the shouts of ‘come back here!’ Lance turns around and races after his brother. Iverson, the great oaf, had longer strides than both of them, and Lance feels fear of being caught trickle up his spine. Thinking quickly, the step-prince digs a jelly tart out of his pocket and throws it as hard as he could at the man. As he and Hunk run out the door, the sight of Iverson’s enraged face covered in streaks of crimson jelly is burned into their memories.
Elation bubbles through his blood, the euphoria of brotherly shenanigans makes Lance feel warm and fuzzy inside. His tepid emotions counter the frigid zephyr that blows across the castle courtyard.
Running across the castle wall, Lance and Hunk laugh quietly amongst themselves, pockets full of delicious goods and hands sticky with strawberry jam.
“Did you see his face?” Hunk chokes out between bouts of laughter.
Lance grins, breathing heavily from the run. “You bet I did! He’s gonna be so pissed in the morning.”
The two step-brothers stop running for a second, looking each other right in the eyes, and begin another fresh wave of giggling between them.
“We are so f—” Hunk starts to say, but stops suddenly mid-sentence, dropping all of the jelly tarts he was carrying. His chocolate-brown eyes widen, and Lance feels a chill radiate throughout his skin.
“Hunk? Buddy? What’s wrong?”
Hunk points to a section of the castle wall, finger shaking in terror.
In the middle of the castle wall, two figures lay prone on the ground, unmoving. He can’t see their faces, but they wore the armour of the King’s royal guard. Next to them, their swords are fallen by their sides, moonlight reflecting off of the polished edges. Lance’s eyes travel from the fallen bodies to the swords to the wall next to them, where the soft silhouette of something knelt, crouched down and seemingly ready for action.
Quiznak…
Fear fizzes up Lance’s throat. As the clouds outside slowly uncover the moon, the soft light reflecting off of the intruder’s figure, illuminating alabaster-white horns and two deadly, curved elven blades.
A Moonshadow elf!
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Looking into her pack, she mentally checks off each of her items one last time, determined not to forget anything. As a Moonshadow elf, she’s been training for missions like these all her life, she was practically born with her weapons in her hands. Still, something in her gut clenches at the thought of what she’s about to do.
As a young child, she had played pranks, stayed out past curfew and had fun. But never before had she broken the village rules, gone against the elders like this. By going through with this mission, she was facing possible expulsion from the camp, but if it all worked out, it would be worth it.
A shadow blocks the moonlight coming in from her doorway, and one hand comes up to rest on the hilt of her blade.
“Calm down,” a familiar voice speaks up, “no need to start a fight.”
She relaxes, tying up her pack and slinging it over her shoulder.
“I’m still against this you know,” he says, not leaving his position in the doorway of her hut, “You shouldn’t go alone.”
“I know,” she sighs, turning to face her oldest friend, “but we agreed it's something I need to do.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He steps inside. “I can’t help it. I promised Matt—”
“He’s not here right now.” she snaps, immediately looking apologetically at her friend. “I’m sorry, I know you promised to keep me safe but I’m doing this to get him back. He’s not dead.” He can’t be. Her fingers come up to play with the locket around her neck—the last gift from her brother.
Two months ago, her brother was part of a squadron tasked with gathering information on the Druids, a group of dark mages. Worried about their growing strength and numbers, the elders had sent the small group to Katolis.
They never came back.
The crystal flowers representing the life forces of everyone on the team had sunk to the bottom of the pool, indicating their deaths. Their village mourned for a month, but Katie knew better.
Matt was still alive, she could feel it. The constant tug in her blood that bonded her to her brother. If he’d died it would have gone slack, but she could still feel him. Forged by her parents when they were young, she was connected to her brother and would remain that way until one of them died. Everyone in the village had flashed her looks of sympathy, calling her delusional behind her back.
“I believe you.”
She looks up into Keith's unwavering violet eyes. “You do?”
The Moonshadow elf nods, a small grin spreading on his face. “It takes more than a few humans to get rid of Matt. There’s no way he’s dead.”
She lets out a sigh of relief before throwing her arms around his waist. No matter what she could always count on Keith to have her back. “Thank you.”
His arms wrap around her, and she tries not to think that this could be the last time they’d ever hug. “Be safe,” he whispers into her hair. “I mean it.”
“Always.” Her hands grip his jacket.
“You know where to go?” he asks as they pull away.
She smiles. “Straight through the mountains and over the hills.” He gives her an unimpressed look, and she rolls her eyes. “Relax. The way to Katolis is a piece of cake.”
His face tells her he doesn't believe her, but he just sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “Okay.”
“Well,” she clears her throat. “I’ll be off then.”
Keith nods solemnly, kissing his two fingers before pressing them to his brow—the Moonshadow sign of respect. “Come back home.”
Her heart throbs, and she doesn’t bother telling him what they both know—that after tonight this wouldn’t be her home. Instead, she smiles gratefully, before turning her back on her village, her hut, and everything she’s ever known.
-
Every muscle in her body aches, but she grits her teeth and goes faster, the full moon in the sky lending her strength. She’s suddenly thankful she chose to pack light, not sure if she would have finished the journey with a heavier pack.
She speeds as she approaches the towering outer castle wall, whipping out her hooked knives and flinging herself through the air, blades digging into the stone.
Fighting against exhaustion, she hauls herself up, one agonizing inch at a time. Although she has the technique and intelligence of a good Moonshadow elf, she is sorely lacking in the strength department.
Almost there, she tells herself, almost there.
Time seems to stop as she hangs from the wall, her arms threatening to give out at any moment. Her breath comes out in laboured pants, and she feels her grip beginning to slip. Summoning her remaining strength, she plants her feet on the face of the wall and pushes up, swinging one blade out to catch the edge of the stone building. One final pull and she’s over the top, sprawled out on the cool floor, trying to catch her breath.
The sound of approaching footsteps brings her to her feet.
“Halt!” a voice cries. “In the name of the king!”
He’s no king of mine, she thinks, before turning and lunging forward, striking the pair of men down with deadly efficiency. She drags the bodies to the side of the wall, partially hidden in the shadows. She’s about to rob one of his uniforms when the chatter of voices draws her attention, and she leaps into the air, landing without a sound on a watchtower.
Gafas of laughter echoes into the quiet night as two figures approach. She narrows her eyes, watching them munch on pastry. The entire scene seemed out of place — too happy — considering the bodies hidden in the shadows a few feet away. With some luck, the two would pass right by and she could continue undetected.
“You bet I did! He’s gonna be so pissed in the morning.” the lanky, dark-skinned one says, sending the pair back into hysterics.
Not guards, she notes, taking in the fine finishings on their sleepwear. Princes.
“We are so f—” the larger man trails off, his eyes focusing on something.
“Hunk? Buddy? What’s wrong?”
Pidge tunes out the rest of the conversation, following the gaze of the larger man, and chastising herself when she sees the glint of a fallen sword. How had she been so careless? She watches as the princes' stop, their eyes going from the sword to the bodies in the shadows, trailing up the wall to land on her.
Oh well, she thinks bitterly. So much for remaining unnoticed.
They barely have time to look surprised before she is upon them, the larger one in her grip a knife to his throat.
༄༅
“Hunk!”
Lance’s shout is shrill and would’ve been loud enough to alert the guards had they not been incapacitated.
Before he had time to react, the Moonshadow elf had rushed forward, turning his step-brother around and placed one of her wicked sharp blades to his throat. While the assassin was barely tall enough to reach his neck, the curved edge of her blade more than made up for the distance. Lance feels a bolt of terror shoot down his spine.
Hunk whimpers in fear, eyeing the curved Moonshadow blade underneath his neck. Dread bubbles up in Lance’s throat. He couldn’t do anything to stop the elf. He didn’t have his bow or any other weapons, and the only people who could help him were lying on the floor, unconscious. He had to do something to stop Hunk from becoming a human meat skewer.
Okay Lance, play it cool.
“Fair gentleman, would you be so kind and move your swords aside?”
Smooth as sandpaper.
A shocked, almost offended expression dawns on the Moonshadow elf’s face. Lance could almost feel their mood sour. In front of her, Hunk shoots him an exasperated glare.
“Bro, you just don’t help.” Hunk whispers underneath his breath, delving into more mutterings. “I don’t think calling an assassin a fair gentleman a good idea when she has her blade to my throat.”
Oh.
OH.
Now that he looked closely, Lance realised that perhaps the Moonshadow elf wasn’t a man at all. The subtle curve of their hips, the more rounded cheekbones, all added up.
Lance would have given his step-brother the good old one-fingered salute if the situation wasn’t as dire.
“If you know what’s best for you, boy,” the assassin snarls, her knuckles whitening as she grips her blades harder. Lance gulps. “You’ll forget you ever saw me.”
Lance almost scoffs at the assassin’s words. “Coming from the person who’s shorter than most kids, I doubt you could call me a boy.”
Hunk raises his hand and hits his palm against his forehead. The Moonshadow elf allows it.
“Look,” Lance tries, holding his arms out in front of him with palms facing outwards. “Just let him go, and we’ll help you with whatever you need.”
Her eyes narrow. “And if my mission is to kill the princes?”
Lance freezes. “Then we’d already be dead.” He says, slowly.
She pauses for a moment, her blade glinting in the moonlight before her grip relaxes and Hunk stumbles forward. Lance let out a breath, looking his brother up and down to make sure he wasn’t injured. Thankfully, not a single cut was visible on Hunk’s dark tanned skin.
“I need information.”
That was not what he was expecting. “On what?”
She sheaths her swords, wiping her palms on her suit. “A human witch. She calls herself Honerva. I’m looking for something important, and the only lead I have is her.”
Hunk perks up behind him. “I know that name. Dad used to tell me stories about her.” His brows furrow slightly. “But she left the castle years ago, out of the blue just disappeared.”
Lance’s features brighten up as recognition burns through his mind. He did know that name!
“Yeah,” Lance chimes in, “Honerva used to be the Royal Mage!” Then as an afterthought, he adds, “dunno why she left, though.”
Something in her expression shifts; her lips parted slightly, and she lets out a long breath. The rigid tension in her muscles slowly eases up, as if she finally let go of something she’d been holding onto for a while. The tragic slant of her eyebrows told Lance how disappointed she really is.
“Oh,” she said. The assassin’s eyes drop to the ground, and Lance could see a glassy sheen built up in her brilliantly-hazel eyes.
Lance couldn’t take her pain; he was a sucker for cute girls (even if they had just tried to kill his step-brother), and something about her expression made him want to go over and comfort her. Something inside of Lance compelled him to follow her, even if she was an elf.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She’s an elf. A Moonshadow elf. Etched into Lance’s bones, forged in his blood, is the knowledge that elves do nothing but destroy humans, take their lifeblood and homes and leave them to rot underneath the full moon. He could almost feel the dead wisps of his mother, slain by the very same race threatening him right now, whispering in his ear, telling him not to trust non-humans. He can’t trust her, yet there was still an urge, an impulse, to go and comfort the girl who would have killed him a few minutes ago.
Maybe the fates had something planned for them. As Lance takes a step forward, he prays that they do.
“Please don’t kill me, ma’am, but do you mind if I speak to my brother for a minute?”
The girl nods mutely, turning her head away so that the princes’ couldn’t see her eyes. Lance sneaks up to Hunk, pulling him away from the elf so that she can’t hear their conversation.
“Bro…”
Hunk’s expression softens once he realizes he wasn’t in slicing distance from the girl’s swords. “Lance, I think we should help her out.”
“But she’s an elf! We can’t trust her!” Lance bites out, his words as cutting as he could without raising his voice above a whisper. In a softer tone, he murmurs, “you know why we can’t trust them.”
Hunk shakes his head sadly, placing a warm hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I…” his breath stutters in his lungs, “If you had the chance to find your mother again, would you?”
Lance shoots his step-brother a betrayed glare. “It’s not the same!”
“Fine then, what about me? What would you do if I went missing?”
Hunk sounded completely serious, so much so that Lance knew he shouldn’t answer with his go-to jokes. “I- I would do anything. You’re my family, Hunk, I couldn’t leave you.” And Lance knows that was a complete truth. They may not be blood brothers, but their bond was thicker than the water of the womb. In every way except for their heritage, they were kin. “Though, what does that have to do with— oh.”
The realisation dawns on Lance, albeit belatedly. The elf isn’t trying to cause a war, not trying to hurt any innocent humans. She’s just looking for something. Suddenly, pity for the girl courses through Lance’s veins, shocking him with how many emotions he felt towards her.
Hunk nods. “She said she’s looking for something important. For all we know it could be a person, or a priceless object.”
“Or her favourite pair of socks…” Lance trails off at his brother's glare. “...fine.” He relents. “But I’m keeping a close eye on her!”
The way Hunk stares at him with his ever-scrutinous gaze, like he was examining Lance’s very soul, made him feel uncomfortable.
“I know you will,” Hunk says sombrely before a cheshire grin spread lazily across his face, “she is a cute girl, after all, even if you didn’t see it a first.”
Lance gasps in mock-outrage.
“Hunk!” He wacks his hand across Hunk’s shoulder, not hard enough to cause any real damage, but just enough force for a sharp ‘thwack’ to be heard. Hunk simply grins with a knowing glint in his eye.
“Back to business, how are we going to find information on Honerva?”
Humming, Lance rubs his chin in thought. “Didn’t Honerva have some sort of workshop in the castle? Maybe there’ll be something in there.”
Hunk beams. “Bro, you’re a genius!” Lance preens at the compliment. “We can sneak into the castle with her, explore Honerva’s workshop, and then she’ll be on her merry way!”
“Nuh uh, no way are we letting her inside the castle!”
Normally, Lance would stand his ground, but Hunk looked like he was having none of his brother’s antics tonight.
“You do realise I can hear you two idiots talking, right?”
From behind them, an accented voice cuts through their conversation. The princes jumped up, turning to her with matching sets of guilty expressions. Lance could see that despite the brave face the assassin put on, her eyes were red and cheeks slightly damp.
“Well then, Miss Moonshadow elf. Today is your lucky day because Hunk and I will be escorting you into Honerva’s workshop!” he says brightly, flashing a dazzling smile at the unimpressed elf. “My name is Lance! And you are?”
The girl hesitated as if she didn’t want to answer. A flock of birds flew overhead, temporarily covering the bright moonlight. After a pregnant pause, she sighs.
“Pidge. My name is Pidge.”
“Well then, Pidge,” Lance grins, “I’m sure you’re okay with a little breaking and entering?”
And for the first time since she had come into their lives, Pidge lets out a small, hesitant smile.
༄༅
Katie has no idea what possessed her to trust the human princes, but somehow she wasn’t regretting it. At least she had had the foresight to give them a fake name, one her brother used to call her. She rubs her temples, trying to figure out how she’d gotten in this mess.
The taller one, Lance as he’d introduced himself, led her through the corridors of the castle, occasionally whisper-yelling at her to hide when a guard passed. The other one, Hunk, seemed more curious than his brother, asking her questions about her life.
“So what are you looking for?”
She grimaces. The one question she was not willing to answer. “A clue,” she settles on, giving him a small smile. The humans seemed to react better when she smiled.
Hunk gives this some thought. “Like a quest?”
“Yeah, sort of. Hopefully whatever I find here will lead me to the treasure.”
“We’re here,” Lance announces, and Katie looks up. They’ve stopped in front of a giant portrait. He grabs hold of the picture frame, tugging at it gently causing the whole painting to swing outwards, revealing a dark tunnel.
“Bro, how do you even know about this?” Hunk asks, his mouth agape. Lance just shrugs.
“A man gets bored every once and awhile.”
One by one they step into the hole, the painting falling back into place behind them, leaving them in complete darkness. Sighing, Katie pulls out her swords, still glowing from the mooncharge earlier. The princes look at them, their eyes wide.
“So cool,” Hunk whispers, and she preens slightly.
“Yeah,” Lance murmurs, before pointing onwards. “Lead the way m’lady.” His words were elegant yet how he said them makes Katie want to punch him in the face.
She shoves past him, and they walk in silence until the narrow corridor opens out into a larger chamber, lined with bookshelves. A desk sat in one corner, and it didn’t take long for Katie to realize everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. Behind her, Hunk had found a match and a touch, holding it up to light up the rest of the room.
“Yikes,” he says, walking around lighting the rest of the torches that surround the room. “No one has been here in ages.”
She nods grimly, sheathing her swords and beginning her search. Anything that gives her a clue to where Matt is. She flips through books and journals, turns over every knick-knack, even looks on the floor and ceiling for a hidden room. Nothing.
Katie runs a hand through her hair in frustration, biting back a growl. She hadn’t come all this way for nothing. She was not leaving empty-handed.
“Hey look at this” Lance calls, laughing. “I’m a powerful mage!”
Katie turns to see him hold up a large wooden staff, a glowing purple orb on one end. Just the sight ends a shiver down her spine.
“Impossible,” she gasps, backing up slightly. “that’s not possible.”
“Well yeah,” Lance says with a hesitant smile, “that’s what impossible means.”
She shoots him a glare. “I know what impossible means. It’s just that,” she gestures at the staff, “should not be here.”
“Okay,” Hunk says tentatively, also taking a step back, “I’m getting the sense that the staff is evil. Lance, you should put it down.”
Katie nods in confirmation. She’d only seen pictures in the old books her father had, but she’d know that staff anywhere. “It belongs to a dark witch, Haggar. She's been banished to a tower in Xadia for an eternity, but this seems to say otherwise.”
“So our castle mage is actually an evil witch?” Lance says slowly, before putting the staff down. “Huh.”
“She’s supposed to be trapped, but it looks like she got out for a decade or two to work for your kingdom,” Katie theorizes, worry building inside her gut. If Haggar truly was Honerva, then Matt was in more trouble then she thought. Her fists clench at her sides. Lance seems to sense her unease.
“Hey, what's the big deal? We discovered Honerva and Haggar are the same person! That makes your quest easier, right?”
“Well, yes and no.” She slumps to the floor, clinging onto the shared bond she had with her brother. The one that would have gone slack if he’d died. “It’s great because I know exactly where Haggar is,” she admits, staring at her hands. She chooses her next words carefully. “But it also means what I’m looking for might not be in the best condition when I get there.”
“And what are you looking for?” Lance asks, his arms crossed. “I think we deserve to know.”
They had helped her, she reminds herself before taking a deep breath. “My brother. He’s missing, presumed dead. All I know is before he disappeared, he went looking for Honerva.”
“Who we now know is Haggar,” Hunk gasps, taking it all in.
“A really evil dark mage.” Lance finishes.
The brothers exchange a look, before turning back to her.
“Well, it's settled!” Lance proclaims.
Katie raises a brow. “What is?”
“We’re going to help you find your brother!”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because, if there's anyone who understands the love siblings have for each other, it's us,” Hunk explains. “and besides, don’t you think three people are better than one?”
“You’ll only slow me down,” She argues, standing firm.
“That may be so,” Lance cuts in, “but if you don’t bring us along willingly, we’ll just trample loudly behind you alerting everyone to your presence.”
Hunk nods enthusiastically, and Katie sighs, giving in. To take down Haggar she was going to need the element of surprise, and with two noisy princes following her, that was not going to happen.
The boys smile ear to ear. “Great!” Hunk says cheerily. “Let's grab some supplies and then head off!”
-
Apparently ‘grabbing supplies’ took the majority of an hour—mainly due to Lance not being able to decide what facial creams to bring, so by the time they were finally outside the castle wall, ready to go, the run was already rising.
“Ah adventure,” Lance breathes in deeply, “the best way to start the morning.”
Katie just glares at him, itching to get on the road. The sooner they get going the sooner they get to Matt.
Just as they’re about to depart, Hunk finally managed to strap on his bag comfortably, the gates to the castle wall open up.
“Hide!” Lance whispers to Katie and she jumps into a nearby tree without a second thought. A moment later, a messenger runs out, bowing deeply as he stops in front of the princes.
“What is it?” Hunk asks, impatience lacing his tone.
“The King is dead.” the messenger says, his voice thick with sadness. There is a moment of gut-wrenching silence and Katie takes a deep breath. The servant stands awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot as the prince's process the news. Hunk’s shoulders begin shaking and Lance wraps an arm around his brother before turning to the servant.
“Thank you, can you give us some space?”
The messenger nods before bowing and retreating back into the castle walls. Both of Lance's arms come up to wrap around Hunk, his brother returning the favour as they take comfort in each other. Katie’s heart aches for them, it really does. She knows first hand the pain of losing a parent.
“I have to stay,” Hunk says quietly after a while, and Lance pulls back to study him.
“Alright. We can head back to the castle now and—”
“No Lance, I have to stay. Not you.”
Lance looks hurt at this, his eyebrows pinching together. “But—”
“I was made for this kinda stuff, kingly stuff. You’re not meant for that, we both know how much you hate sitting still. You were born to go on an adventure, to go see the world. It’s in your blood.” Katie drops down behind them, making eye contact with Hunk who she gives a small smile. He’s already unslinging his pack and strapping it onto Lance. “So go. Have your adventure. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Hunk—”
“Go.” Hunk embraces Lance in an emotional bear-hug, completely covering the skinner boy, then shoves his brother towards her with surprising strength. “I’ll be waiting.”
She watches as Hunk makes his way back into the castle, Lance’s eyes following him until he disappears from sight. Katie clears her throat.
“So, are you ready?”
He turns to her and she’s surprised to see tears in his eyes. He wipes them away quickly. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Then let’s go.”
Casting one last glance at the dark-skinned prince, Katie turns forward, wondering if this is the stupidest or best decision of her life.