Chapter Text
Keefe Sencen was five years old.
Keefe Sencen was five years old and he still was too young to understand much of the things going on around him.
He didn’t understand why his mother had retreated to her quarters, only to be seen at mealtimes, or why his sisters stopped their worried whispering whenever he entered the room. In three months, his mother would disappear into the night, and Keefe would watch her go, believing her lie that she was simply going to the market.
Over and over he would run that night over, wishing he could change the past. The more cynical side of him knew wishes didn’t exist. Because if magic and wishes did exist, then there was a chance for something to save him. To make his life better. And he knew better than to hope that.
Keefe’s mother was a petite woman, with pale blonde hair and sharp cold eyes. As his memory of her would fade, he would always remember those eyes, unreadable as the foggy mornings that often plagued their estate.
His sisters would tell him that she was different before he was born, more alive and happy, but he’d never seen it for himself. The happiest he had ever seen her was when she was leaving, cloak pulled over her head, bag over her shoulders.
Anyway, today was not that day, and his mother was tucked away in her room, gazing out a window.
Keefe was dressed in a stiff suit, the pale yellow jacket matching his sister's dresses. They were seven and nine respectively, and had each other as playmates, leaving Keefe to fend for himself.
His father had said this was an important meeting, establishing connections between important families, but Keefe had tuned out most of the business talk. The only thing that had piqued his interest, was when his father said that there were going to be two kids. Twins around Keefe’s age he had said, shaking his head. “Poor mother.” he muttered. “Maybe her children are better behaved then you lot.”
Keefe stared out the window, down the long path to their house, winding through the fields of pale green grass. It was still early autumn, and the leaves had just started to turn, smattering the lawn with flashes of orange and yellow. Keefe pressed his cheeks up against the glass, breath making a light fog on the glass pane. He wanted to be back in the garden, twirling flowers into elaborate crowns and jewelry, but according to his father he had to be “present” and look “respectable.”
A lone yellow flower remained tucked in his hand, petals slightly crushed.
Keefe started up as his father entered the room, straightening up. His sisters followed close behind, their hair elaborately styled into a twist of braids. Behind them walked in the family, and Keefe straightened even further. The father had closely cropped black hair, and intense dark eyes that seemed to pierce through Keefe. His two children shared his intense gaze and dark hair, following him like little ghosts.
“It really is a pleasure” Keefe’s father was saying, gesturing to the couch. “Please, sit. Kellin will lead the children to the conservatory.”
Kellin, the elder of Keefe’s sisters, smiled, and beckoned for the rest of them to follow her. “This way, please,” she said, her pleasant voice strange to Keefe. She usually ignored him, and when she did talk to him, it was usually with thinly masked annoyance.
The children paraded into the conservatory and Keefe awkwardly shuffled on the plush carpet.
The two twins looked remarkably similar, with matching dark hair and deep brown eyes. They were dressed in shades of red, the taller one in a deep red suit, and the shorter one in a scarlet dress.
Kara and Kellin immediately led the girl away, perhaps to the garden, leaving Keefe and the boy staring awkwardly at each other.
“Uh hi.” Keefe said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I’m Keefe.” he held out his hand, wiping the remaining dirt from the garden off on his pants.
“... Tam.” the boy said eventually, taking Keefe’s hand. “Tam Song.”
Keefe blinked, not sure what to do with the boy's harsh gaze. “I have a flower.” he said, holding up the crumpled blossom.
Tam eyed him, as if he thought this was some sort of trick. “Why?” He was much too solemn for a five year old, hands perfectly still at his sides.
Keefe shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s a flower from our garden, and it’s pretty?”
Tam took it, and nodded. “One second.” he reached into a pocket, and reached for something. A moment later he offered Keefe a wooden ring, roughly carved out of a pale wood. “Here. I made it.”
Keefe studied it, and slipped it into a pocket. “Oh. Thank you.”
Tam almost smiled, the corners of his lip turning up. “You’re welcome.”
-+-+-+-
Keefe Sencen was sixteen years old.
A field of daisies raised around him, and he trailed through them, blinking in the bright sunlight. Forests lined the field, reaching their leafy branches toward the crystal sky.
There were no clouds, and the breeze blew the hair out of his face. The only sound was the chattering of birds, and the scurrying of small critters that were running through the field.
Keefe followed the path through the daisies, working his way through the field. Birds circled overhead, cawing as he approached a lone tree standing in the field.
The tree was tall and willowy, with pale green leaves and light blue flowers.
Under the tree stood a young girl, something about her tugging at a memory in Keefe’s brain.
She had long black hair tipped with silver that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her eyes pierced through Keefe, and she held out a hand, gesturing towards him.
Come with me.
Keefe wasn’t sure where the voice had come from, but the flowers all ruffled, and a cloud seemed to appear over the sun that Keefe could have sworn hadn’t been here before.
Keefe.
The world seemed to tilt, and suddenly Keefe was falling backwards. Colors rushed around him, and the breath left his lungs.
Keefe.
He fell faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut as wind whistled past his ears.
“Keefe!” a voice screamed, and Keefe snapped awake, hitting his head on the beam above his head.
“What?” he yelled back, scrambling out of bed. The small attic room was smaller now, and he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on some of the lower beams.
There wasn’t a response from downstairs, and Keefe groaned as he threw on a new shirt, and hurried downstairs, yawning.
The stairs creaked as he hurried into the upstairs hallway, being sure to shut the attic door behind him.
The upstairs was nicer than his attic rooms, the plush carpet a deep red color. Most of the doors were closed and locked, only opened for cleaning on the rare occasion that Keefe’s father decided he didn’t have enough to do. Of course there was one room that never opened, the one at the end of the hallway with the pale yellow wallpaper and half abandoned embroidery.
Keefe shook his head as he hurried down the main staircase, his plain clothes mismatching the grand marble of the stairs.
His father stood at the bottom of the stairs, lips drawn into a tight line. “You’re late.” he said, his cold eyes regarding Keefe. “The rest of us have been up for hours.”
Keefe severely doubted that, and wanted to point out that he wouldn’t have slept in if Cassius hadn’t insisted the kitchen floor be spotless after a kitchen disaster.
At least it was worth it to see Cassius covered in flour, even if his knees still ached from trying to clean the whole mess up.
“Sorry. Sir.” Keefe said, glancing down.
Cassius sniffed, and glanced away. “Hmm. I expect the breakfast dishes to be cleaned and the dining room spotless by lunch. Better get moving.”
Keefe finished walking down the stairs, and ducked into the servants corridor, running down the dusty hall. There was no need for servants corridors as most of the staff had been let go years ago, there was only Marta, the cook, and Jin, the girl's handmaid.
Keefe entered the kitchen, and Marta shot him a look. “You’re late.”
“I heard.” Keefe said, grimacing.
“I already finished the dishes, you should sweep the dining room.”
Keefe nodded, grabbing the broom and a dustpan from the corner and ducking into the fancy living room.