Work Text
Prolog
With growing dread, the dark-haired man stared down at the child, covered in blood and a mass of black goo from head to toe, looking like hell had spewed it out right into his path. The stench of death and charcoal lingered in the air as he hesitantly reached out, lifting the eerily silent child up. His black eyes stared at the infant. It was small, limbs pulled close to its naked body, big eyes staring at him unblinkingly. A child. It had been their only choice. Their only chance at a world that wasn’t made up of darkness and fire and death. The sacrifice they had to make had been gruesome – cruel some would say. Regret and guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders as he pulled the infant closer to his chest, running his hands through the blood coating it’s skin. He pulled free a part of his pitch-black coat and wrapped it around the child, shielding its body from the biting wind and smoke that was blowing their way. Had his goal impaired his better judgement? Had this been the only way to-? No, such thoughts did nothing now – not anymore. It had been done. There was no going back. His eyes focused back onto the child, it’s fingers were gripping onto his coat like a lifeline, trembling slightly. ‘So young.’ He whispered, staring at the bloodied figure cradled against his chest. ‘I’m so sorry to place this burden upon you, child. But you understand, don’t you?’ His voice was a raspy mumble, marked through years of hardships. His black hair a halo around his head as he stared down at the infant. It blinked back at him, comprehension beyond its years reflected in midnight eyes. As if understanding, as if telling him he had nothing to fear, a small hand with soft bloodied fingers reached out to him, touching his cheek as a gurgle left the child. The man closed his eyes, shielding himself from the excruciating pain that was spreading through his chest at the innocent gesture. As if smelling the remnants of remorse, the child started sobbing, gurgled wails ripping themselves from its throat. He hoisted it up gently, pulling it closer into a warm embrace as a single tear dripped down his cheek, hitting the child’s head. He turned, overlooking the field of corpses one last time, he vanished from sight, leaving behind the dead to rot as the deed had been done. A field of corpses in a dark red night.
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Holding his head high he carried on, his long white coat was flowing behind him, his sword steadily thumping against his left leg as he walked through the long halls of Eowean, the Courts Palace, a sacred place only to be stepped into by the purest of magical creatures. Known for its many paths and corridors made of pure marble and gold, it managed to make his breath stop, even after years of wandering these halls. Leading it to have earned a second title ‘The Palace of Thousand Paths’ – none of which the same yet still identical to the untrained eye. Twists and turns and staircases leading one way or the other or nowhere at all. He remembered the first time he had stepped into Eowean, heavy golden archway swinging open in front of him and giving view of an entrance hall that could have easily fitted a small house, paths leading into every imaginable direction. His father had placed a hand on his shoulder, warm and secure as he had leaned down to speak directly into his ear, his long beard tickling his ear shell as he spoke to his youngest son. ‘This is Eowean, the place of our Ancestors. Remember this moment well, my son. One day you will navigate these halls with the same ease as your brothers.’ Pride had swelled in his chest, not only for his brothers and their skills but also for their family – their line and lineage. The line of Ocyir. An old and noble family of Griffin’s that had held a place in the Major Court for centuries. The Major Court consisted of only the most magical Creatures. A representative of each kind: Phoenixes, Basilisks, Unicorns, Dragons, Satyr’s and Griffin’s holding a place and managing their world, passing legislature and ruling. The seat held by those part of the court was passed down through families. As a second instance and playing a smaller role was the Minor Court consisting of – still powerful, but slightly lesser so creatures: Siren’s, Harpy’s, Mermaid’s and Chimera’s. The hallway carried on in front of him, his steps echoing on the polished floor. The walls were covered in leaves and blossoms of pure gold and silver catching and reflecting light. He walked with an efficient stride, his older brothers ahead of him and talking animatedly about the latest banning law, prohibiting certain sacrifices made during rituals of blood moons - boring drivel in his opinion, but he knew better than to voice those thoughts. He stayed quiet, falling behind but matching the pace of his brothers for fear of losing them in the long, twisted halls that made up this place of holiness. He hadn’t meant to stop, yet movement spotted in his peripheral vision made him fall behind before completely coming to a halt in front of a pair of columns. A flash of gold out of the corner of his eyes. Would he have blinked he would have missed it. The voices of his brothers carried away, farther ahead, echoing of the marble walls surrounding them, as they walked on without him. Intently he stared at the columns that had caught his attention. “Show yourself.” His voice was level and quiet, steely demand carrying over as he continued to wait for their stalker to show, one of his hands was already lingering on the stealth of his sword, ready to draw the weapon in an instant. A hand was the first thing he saw, golden skin and too long fingernails gripping into granite. A mop of messy blond hair followed. A flash of gold and he was staring into the face of a young man, around his age - though these things could hardly be told in the magical world, too many creatures that altered their appearance to appear younger. But something told him that this man had done no such thing, something told him that the shining golden eyes he was staring at belong to an earnest person, someone that would take pride in his age. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something he was ripped out of his thoughts by a voice to their right. “Tylwyth!” Tylwyth closed his eyes, his face blank as he turned towards his brothers. Imposing figures those two made, he had to admit. It was no wonder the Major Court respected them as much as it did. Both strong in their own regards. Pwyll, his oldest brother and heir to their family having inherited their fathers fighting spirit and natural charisma. While Nissyen, the middle brother of the Ocyir Family having inherited their mother’s intellect and wisdom. Sometimes he wondered where that left him, being neither as strong a fighter, nor as intelligent a strategist as his brothers. Still he had risen to the top, he had a strong suspicion his family’s standing had played a major role in his placement in the Army of Courts. Youngest Commander in a century, yet never having had to stand his own in a war – hardly a few scuffles and escorts were the extent to which he had needed to fight and lead. Pwyll turned towards him. They all shared their fathers features, aristocratic nose and high cheekbones, curved lips and shining black hair paired with piercing black eyes for Nissyen. And eyes of the brightest blue for Pwyll. “Tylwyth.” Pwyll spoke, his voice as smooth as honey. Tylwyth had to suppress a flinch. How he hated that tone, it was the one Pwyll liked to use to make his disappointment very clear. “I apologize, brother.” Tylwyth said quickly, bowing into Pwyll’s direction as a sign of respect, his back held straight. He looked up again, his own grey eyes meeting his brothers piercing blue ones, they held him captive for a minute before apparently accepting his apology. His eyes wandered over, Tylwyth turned towards their stalker again noticing who his brothers next victim would most likely be. “And who might you-?” Pwyll’s voice broke off, eyes widening as he stared at the man made of gold for a second longer, before narrowing them dangerously. “What is a lion of all Creatures doing here?” He whispered, warning echoing in his voice. “These are sacred halls, stepped into by sacred magical Creatures. Remove yourself at once before my mercy ends.” He had expected many things at that moment. A mumbled apology, a bow, the stranger trying to run. What he hadn’t expected was for him to cross his arms and emit a snort. His brother’s eyes narrowed farther, burning with icy coldness. Tylwyth stared at the scene unfolding in front of him, heartbeat quickening as he watched the proceedings. Not wishing for things to escalate any further he quickly stepped in, mouth running before he could grasp a coherent thought. “Brother, I will escort him outside. The Court is awaiting you, I can take care of this…nuisance.” He spoke, keeping his voice level as he looked into his brother’s eyes. His quickly beating heart betraying the calmness he portrayed. “Tylwyth…are you quite sure?” Nissyen asked his airy voice carrying, amplified through the marble halls, Nissyen brushed back his long black hair with one had as he also stared at the lesser Creature. Pwyll stayed quiet, icy blue eyes staring at him for a second before he turned away. “Take care of…it.” He hissed venomously, before briskly walking into the opposite direction. He nodded, not trusting his voice as he pulled up a mask of haughty superiority and coldness and turned towards the lion that had managed to slip into the palace. “Come. I will show you the exit.” With a nod into the directing they had come from he took ahold of the stranger’s arm and dragged him away, all under the watchful eye of his middle brother. He took a sharp turn to the right, pulling the blond man along hastily. The other man had been eerily quiet, not emitting a word after his rude gesture towards his brother. They walked on, Tylwyth busily trying to remember where he had come from. The fact that every corridor looked the same didn’t help his case in the slightest. “…Do you even know where you are going?” A deep voice asked. Deeper than expected Tylwyth noticed, casting a look at the man over his shoulder. “Of course, I do.” He forced out, directing his gaze back towards the front. “…Then you are aware that we are walking into the wrong direction?” The blond asked, faint amusement noticeable in his voice. A growl left Tylwyth’s throat as he turned on the stranger, staring into his face defiantly. “Why don’t you lead the way then, ohh wise one?” He ground out, trying and failing to keep the cool he had practiced years to maintain. “Sure.” The golden man answered, turning on his heels and walking back into the direction they had come from. Tylwyth followed, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. The silence between them stretched and expanded, Tylwyth was never one for idle chit chat and fell short when thinking about any possible conversation topic. The blonde man seemed to be infuriatingly relaxed, casting a backwards glance at Tylwyth from time to time with an amused smile playing around his lips, but never breaking the silence or offering any other gesture that indicated the want for conversation. After endless twists and turned, each of which made Tylwyths head spin as he tried to remember they finally reached the enormous entrance gate, golden leaves decorating its doors that seemed to bleed right into the wall, handles of marble and differently colored gems creating a picture of wealth and fortune that set it apart from the rest of the marble interior. He rushed past the stranger, opening one of the doors with a press of his palm, with an ease that should have been impossible for such a giant door to manage it swung open. The blond turned towards him, an easy smile playing on his lips as he looked at him, his golden eyes twinkling. “Well thank you for the…escorting.” He said, cheek showing once again as he winked at Tylwyth. Before Tylwyth could answer, the stranger stepped outside into the bright sunlight. “Wait!” He called, startled by his own quite sudden exclamation. The other man turned, eyebrows raised. “…What’s your name?” He finally asked, waiting for the answer with baited breath. “I’m called Cian!” The blond answered, grin stretching impossibly far and showing sharp canine teeth - a reminder of his heritage. With that the man turned, mid step he jumped into the air, a rush of air gathered around him, strong enough to make Tylwyth cover his face with his hands. When the wind settled down Tylwyth stared at the picture before him. There instead of the blond-haired man stood a mighty lion, bigger than others of his kind, his mane had strands of pure gold weaved through it, that seemed to reflect the sunlight. With a nod into his direction the lion turned away, with a flash of light he vanished from view in the next second. “…How did he even get in here?” Tylwyth wondered quietly, staring at the place his unusual companion had just vanished from. The door to the palace could only be opened by higher magical Creatures, for a lion – a lesser magical creature, to not only open the archway but also effortlessly navigate the twisted hallways was…concerning. On top of that the stranger – Cian, he now knew – was able to use Itinerantur, a form of travel that used magic and light, which was more than just astonishing as changing into their magical forms was already an exhausting feat for most lesser Creatures. Shaking his head Tylwyth turned back around, the door fell shut behind him without a sound as he tried to remember the way his brothers had taken him before. By the time he reached the Court room the session had already ended and many Creatures, some part of the Court and others having sat in – like his brothers - were leaving the hall. Creatures of noble heritage were welcome to join specific sessions, give insight and advice if needed. The representative of the Pheonixe’s – K’ilar Pius, stepped past him, Tylwyth dropped into a low bow instantly mumbling a greeting. The representative carried on, not noticing or willfully ignoring his presence. He was wearing a coat of blood red, his burning red hair pulled into a long braid almost reaching the floor as he walked on, his red eyes focusing on the path ahead of him before he vanished in a burst of flames. “Tylwyth.” A voice spoke behind him. He turned staring into his brothers faces. “You did not appear on time. I hope the…inconvenience…was taken care of?” Nissyen asked, his eyes boring into Tylwyth’s. His brother had always caused him disquiet with that particular trait, not like their older brothers piercing blue eyes, no Nissyen’s eyes were always holding a certain amount of calculating to them that they never lost. It was one of the traits Nissyen took most pride in, his ability to access any situation and deduce the likely outcome. A useful tactic while in a fight, but none the less disturbing to Tylwyth. Still he knew Nissyen was the more sensible of his two brothers, always choosing to think first and take action later – a direct opposite to the heir of their family. And while Pwyll sometimes seemed either uninterested in, or incapable of supporting his youngest brother both educationally as well as emotionally, the task had fallen into Nissyen’s hands. “Yes, brother. He did not create any further problems.” Tylwyth replied. “I see…And the reason for your tardiness was…?” Pwyll continued the interrogation, an arched eyebrow rising as he looked at his youngest brother. Tylwyth tried to suppress the heat that spread over his cheeks and neck. “I-I got lost.” He mumbled quietly, dropping his eyes and not meeting his brother’s eyes. Nissyen sighed deeply while Pwyll exhaled in a sharp show of disappointment. “I trust you to do better next time.” Pwyll said. Tylwyth only nodded, incapable of answering in the face of his failure. Navigating the Thousand Paths of Eowean was something expected of every member of a noble family, most managed within the first three years to take control over the long, twisted hallways. For Tylwyth it had been almost five years of servitude within the Courts Army and he still found himself unable of finding his way. Without uttering a further word, the three brothers turned and walked back to the exit. Pwyll strode on ahead, deep in thought presumably as he kept mumbling under his breath every few seconds. Nissyen fell into step next to Tylwyth giving him a reassuring pat on the back and nodding at him. Tylwyth managed to smile back, though his cheeks ached through the fakeness of his grin. “I do not believe you missed something important, boring drivel in your opinion, I’m sure.” Nissyen said, winking at him. “Another banning law has been passed. High time if you ask me. We have lived in this 'progressive' world for years and still barbaric sacrifices of magical life is conducted in some places. ‘Culture’ they call it, can you believe it?” Tylwyth hummed, choosing not to answer, his stances in politics had always been a sore topic for the Ocyir Family. His brothers and father took pride in their heritage, their traditions and ways, while Tylwyth had no interest in such matters what so ever. Nissyen sometimes agreed with him, his analytical thinking allowing him to look past ingrained and trained responses and traditions. Sometimes Tylwyth wondered how he would manage without Nissyen at his side. The immediate answer most of the time was: ‘Not at all.’ “How is your training going?” Nissyen asked next, trying to make their conversation less one-sided. “Pretty good. I’m fairly confident that I will be made Commander soon.” Tylwyth said, a genuine smile lighting up his face. He had joined the Army the second he had left the Academy of Eowean. He had worked his way up the ranks, his little use in the field of magic being made up by his excellent swordsmanship, and the relentless hours of being taught in strategy by Nissyen. It was the only time his father had smiled at him openly, the day he had announced his rise to Lieutenant, the youngest in a century. Tylwyth was glad that he had managed to keep up the family name at the very least not brining disgrace to his family. Court life was stiff, suffocating and repressed. Emotion was a liability, caring and showing your honest thoughts, frowned upon. Manipulations and deception was the very thing coating every single interaction, every day to day encounter. It was heaven and hell. Heaven for those that had things to hide, unspeakable things, cruel and dark. And hell for those pure and good enough to wish to express themselves openly, no borders or walls. Tylwyth wished he could count himself among the second kind, but he knew years of training in the way of Court life brought repercussions. A flash of gold rushed through his mind. No...somebody like him could never understand. Someone as wild and untamed and arrogant...and impolite... ...and free.