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Astrid was never Ikithon’s favorite. She knew that, and so did Eadwulf. Bren was oblivious to that fact, and the pair made sure it stayed that way. It wasn’t because Wulf or Astrid were jealous, but rather they both knew the moment Bren knew that Ikithon was playing favorites he’d try and pull back, put less of his heart into his magic. Neither of them wanted to see that.
Astrid always seemed to find herself in the boys’ room, picking the lock if she had to. It was better than being alone in her own space. Sometimes it was just sitting alone reading, for study or for pleasure, most the time it was waiting for till they returned. Waiting to see what state they were in and if they needed any help. They were her boys and she’d do anything to keep them safe.
The harsher lessons started the moment all three of them had been selected to study privately under Ikithon. He wanted nothing less than perfection. When they didn’t do what he wanted, punishments were harsh. Locked and isolated away, physical punishments including implements they would soon learn to use on others, nights in the abandoned tower that had them coming together just to get warm. Those moments were the ones that started them on the path of supporting each other through everything that would come next.
Astrid noticed Eadwulf took responsibility for any faults that had physical punishments. Astrid had taken to trying to take responsibility for when punishments would deal with the mind keeping her boys safe.
They had seen what happened to traitors of the empire. They knew the cost of what it took to keep their home safe, but the day blades had been put into their own hands was a shock to their system. All three of them were smart enough to know what exactly was being asked of them. Astrid moved first. If she went first, then she couldn’t keep Bren and Wulf from staining their hands with blood, she could go first so they had time to come to terms with what they were being forced to do. Eadwulf was next, and then Bren. All of them stained for the protection of the Empire. Once she was alone she raged for the three of them, even if she understood why it needed to be done.
She was the first to have the burn of residuum added to her skin, the feeling of a high she never asked for pulsing through her veins. Being first meant she couldn’t protect her boys. One by one, they were forged into weapons for Trent to control. It made her blood boil, it made her loyalties shift.
The night she killed her parents she should have had more regret for what she had done to them. Instead, her heart bled for Bren, watching him fall apart. Watching Trent do nothing to help in that moment. She didn’t feel the burn of Bren’s magic against her skin, only the shattering of all three of their hearts.