Chapter Text
In Valentia, it is not uncommon to see multiple souls meet and become tethered to one another. Less common are those with only one, and rarer still, those who have none. Family, best friends, lovers, enemies. Lives that fit and mold and crash and intertwine once they’ve met. Whether it is a beneficial relationship or not, all tethered souls become closer than kin. Some have such romantic notions that they eventually marry their best friends. Some, even their enemies. It is rare indeed to walk among Valentia and not find a single soul without a soulmate.
Then there is the vision; seen when these souls first make eye contact. A vision of the perfect future written before them. A vision of the future to be shared among these intertwining lives. Like a mother’s kiss on her newborn’s cheek. It is a blessing from Mila, they say. An assurance that not one of Valentia’s children will ever be alone. It’s been said that when one dies, the ones who remain see that vision again one last time. They say that it is meant to be a final gift, like a kiss goodbye. Some of the elders tell stories of their loved ones who have died in old age. How bittersweet to be shown the vision they’d been given so long ago. How their lives have turned out the way they’ve been shown. A blessing they say.
Clive is barely three years old when he meets the first person who will shape the rest of his life. His mother and father introduce him to a baby with tufts of silver hair and angry little brown eyes. The first son of a nobleman whose farmland estate falls under the jurisdiction of Clive’s father. His name is Fernand, they tell him. He was born tethered to his father, mother and sister.
And now Clive.
Far too young to remember the vision, let alone understand it, little Clive nevertheless attempts to develop this brand new friendship. He babbles in full baby sentences and Fernand, quiet little Fernand babbles right back. Clive doesn’t let anyone near them, screaming and crying when it was time for the baby to go home. From then on, the two were inseparable.
Drawn to Clive unlike any of their other friends. Following the leader, when there were only the two of them, the little babies grew into little boys. Clive, always leading and everyone knew Fernand would follow him anywhere.
When Clair is born, eight (and a half) year old Clive reaches out his hand, her grip strong on his pinky finger, face red from wailing her indignation to the world. Their eyes meet and she is hushed. Big blue eyes open wide as her little mind contemplates what she’s just experienced. She squeals with laughter. She’ll be a handful, he knows, but she’ll grow into a fine young woman.
“Hello Clair. I’m your big brother.”
Clive introduces his best friend to his new baby sister, eager to show off as she squirms and screams and cries in her crib. Not at all interested in this silver haired stranger as he furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose in a way only little boys can. Then she falls silent. Clive watches as Fernand's eyes light up for a moment, gaze distant in a vision. He blinks and their eyes catch above Clair’s grabby little hands reaching out towards her brand new soulmate.
The golden haired boy grins. In the flickering light of the fireplace, the boys make an oath that no harm will ever fall upon their noisy, wailing, indignant little sister.
As Clair grows she follows them everywhere. Follows them up trees and down rivers and into trouble. Follows them to the village market where she meets farmers and their cows and exclaim 'Dog!'.
"That's called a cow, Clair."
But the four year old already moved on to the fluffy moving carpets that bleat like her nursemaid when she tells her a bedtime story about sheep and wolves. She pays no attention to anything and she misses the lessons the farmers give her about rain and seasons and crops and how wheat turns into cake. They are met with Clair’s screaming nursemaid when the boys bring back a mud creature instead of Clive’s sister. They are not allowed to bring her to the village again.
As the days drive on, her energy becomes insatiable, her brothers teach her how to fight with sticks. Then with wooden swords. Then with riding ponies. Clive doesn't teach her to ride sheep, that's a secret he'll take to his grave.
At twelve years old, Clive has Clair and Fernand. His soul feels full, complete. For now.
Fernand has Clive and Clair and his father and his mother and his big sister. His soul feels full, but he knows there's more out there somewhere. He just has to be patient.