I alone am the honoured

i've remained by your side, in chains, entombed

•••

Euphemia's eyes glow up at the sight of the fresh bread, eyes wide and watery. Her shaky hand picks up the still-warm loaf and breaks it apart, a puff of steam rolling into the air. A shimmering fire encapsulates her eyes, a warm red that anyone can mistake for the warmth of the sun.

"Thank you, Elvie!" Her arms wrap round my shoulders, caging me. "Oh, sorry."

I smile nonetheless. "Don't let—"

"—Mother know, I know."

The wind graces her hair and blows it back, kissing her cheeks in such a gentle manner that one would think she was as fragile as ice and nature itself wouldn't dare destroy it.

"What are you two mischiefs up to?" My Father asks with a hand on his hip. Rose tints his cheeks too, the warm weather and running around not helping his condition. "Come on, Effie, it's your birthday, play with your family!"

Euphemia stands up, whisking off to the rest of my siblings in a skip. I watch from afar, how the blades of grass tickle their legs and the way the sun beams down on them like a spotlight. They chase after each other, screaming giggles tumbling out of them.

I get up from the picnic blanket and head for the manor across the lake. Our home.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?!" My Father shouts with a ball in his hands and throws it to me. "Stay for once, it's your sister's birthday."

"Mother needs me." I chuck the ball back but he doesn't catch it, only watches it drop to the floor and roll to his feet. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, placing them back on his head.

"I spoke to her already, she's let you off," he says. Doubt trickles through my mind. She is not an easy woman to influence.

I stay quiet for a moment. Hope is a tragic thing, but residuals of it drip into my skin, nevertheless. "Really?"

He nods fervently. I look towards the brick manor and find my Mother staring at us through her office window. Ice drips in my veins at the sight. Her red leather wings stretch out behind her. My shoulder blades tingle in pain as a reminder of what she did, an act that I could never forgive even in death. My phantom wings twitch at the thought. There's nothing else she can take from me that she hasn't already stole and ripped apart.

I look back towards my family. Euphemia, Eugene and Emrys stare back also, a perplexed sadness written across their faces, all smiles vanished.

The sight upset me. So I stayed. And the moments proceeding that event will forever haunt me. And what a heavy sin I bear for it.

My name enters my ears, forcing my eyes to open in curiosity. The car is stationary and rests outside a familiar Kingdom. Two rows of uniformed staff line the path leading up to the menacing headquarters that is the Akraton Kingdom.

The castle is beautifully lifeless in the same way that a Royal soul is. So woven with flawless gothic architecture and tinted windows that I question if we have transported back in time to Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker.

I get out of the car and gravel screeches beneath my feet. A hoard of guards surround me and I am unsure whether to laugh or cry.

The King, who had his back turned, swivels around and reveals a mini family from behind him. A tall man, taller than the present King, stands proudly amongst them, a man I know to be the former King of this Kingdom, Alistor Akraton. A temporary King for when his nephew, the direct descent of the bloodline, came of age.