Chapter Text
“What is wrong, niece?” Clea gasped as she noticed Dormammu approaching from the corner of her eye. She had wanted some time lone, be he always seemed to find her. Even her hidden thoughts, like where she went to escape the world, were known to him. "Uncle…?” she asked, “Why does Father not like me…?” Dormammu's response was typical: “Your father loves you.” Clea remained doubtful. “But whenever I talk to him, he seems cold and…distant,” she pointed out, “and he never wants to spend time with me.” “Your father is…complicated,” Dormammu tried to explain, “He is a proud man who works hard and wishes to see his kingdom flourish.” “Really…” the disillusioned child remarked, “Is that why he didn’t come to my coronation?” It was a simple question; it was her hundredth cycle, the moment she was to be crowned heir to Dormammu’s throne. Everyone important in her life, from guards to maids, had been there to witness it. Her mother even made a brief appearance, for Eternity’s sake! But her own father couldn’t be bothered to pay her a visit? Much less congratulate her?
Clea looked away from her uncle and focused on the sky, her safe haven. She could forget her worries and marvel at the never-ending purple skies of her homeworld. Admire the crumbling remnants of rock that had once belonged to the dimension, a reminder of the ancient conflict her people had fought against the Mindless Ones cycles ago. Despite the beauty surrounding her, tears welled up in her eyes, and frustration continued to grow.
Dormammu sat beside her in silence, then asked, “Do you know why you are called Clea?” She shook her head. He continued, “Many cycles ago, your father went to some planet to find a gift worthy of courting your mother with. He brought back a poem in some language and presented it to her at a ball she was throwing. I thought it was rubbish when I heard her describe it to me later, but there was one word that stood out to me: kleos.” Clea tilted her head in confusion. “Kleos…?” “Yes, it means “glory,” her uncle explained. “I remembered that, and on the day you were born, I instructed your father to name you kleos, or some variation of it. He couldn’t choose,” he said the next part with a grin. “So I chose for him.”
Clea was amazed. “You named me…?” “Yes, my dearest niece,” Dormammu confirmed. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You are my only heir, a flame who will burn so bright that one day you shall rule the entire cosmos. And if your father cannot see that? Then he is a fool!” And just like that, she smiled. She took in his words, his tone and felt herself swell with warmth inside. “Thank you, Uncle!”
……………….
“Hey!”
"Huh...?" Clea said, feeling dazed. It seemed that the sorceress had been so deep in thought that she hadn't realized Stephen had returned with their snacks. “Sorry about that; the line was longer than I expected,” he explained, handing her a large bag of popcorn. "Is everything okay?" Clea quickly replied, “Oh, yes! Thank you,” as she accepted the bag from her friend and mentor, smiling.
“Alright, let’s go get our seats,” Clea said cheerfully. She practically skipped her way to the ticket usher, brimming with excitement. However, her enthusiasm waned when Stephen questioned, “Are you sure about this?” Rolling her eyes, Clea replied dismissively, “Oh, don’t start that again, Stephen.” “I’m just saying it isn’t too late to get tickets for something else,” Stephen persisted. Clea scoffed, knowing he had been skeptical ever since she mentioned wanting to see the new Wizard of Oz film that morning. “You’re just saying that because you think I won’t enjoy this “remake,” as you call it,” she reminded him. She understood his hesitation, considering The Wizard of Oz was one of his favorite childhood movies. It made sense that he would be wary of any changes made to modernize the story. However, Clea believed he should give the movie a chance, just as he did with other things. Stephen chuckled. “No, it’s cause I know you too well.” Clea couldn’t argue with that; he had warned her she wouldn’t like the last few episodes of Game of Thrones. But she wasn't ready to admit defeat. Turning to face him, she challenged, “Alright then, how about this? If I enjoy the film, you owe me a coke,” the maiden declared smugly. “Really…?” Stephen smirked, slightly. “And what if I’m right, “Miss Lake”?” Clea cringed internally, sensing his teasing and possibly flirtatious tone. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting defeat, she proudly declared, “If you’re right, I’ll make dinner for a whole week,” before walking ahead. Despite her bravado, Clea couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Stephen's amused chuckle as they headed to the theater.
End of Prologue