Cinnamon, vanilla and peach scents filled the air mixed with the sharp aromas of wines and apple liquor. The candlelit dining hall was warm with just the right summer breeze dancing through the room. The royal family was seated at the long oak table. The clinking of expensive goblets and the clattering of cutlery on plates piled with exquisite delicacies could be heard as the people chattered. A magnificent dinner party to behold. The scenery appeared marvellous until you would turn your eyes towards a certain corner of the hall. There they were, the royal twins, at each other's throats once again.
"Drystan, I swear to boil your teeth if you dare finish that sentence!" shrieked a young Riona, her bandaged hands balling into fists. She had trained industriously that day and was in no spirit to quarrel with her brother. Despite her savage-like behaviour, she was dressed in a deep blue spider silk dress (the favourite colour of her best friend). Her hair was braided neatly and her dark coco-coloured wings were groomed to shine. Drystan merely smirked with utter glee: "You are head over heels for Vance, admit it. It is the only reason you trained so diligently today and the reason for wearing blue — to catch his eye." Not a second had passed and Riona's hands were around Drystan's green dress shirt's collar. Her teeth gritted. She was about to land her blistered knuckles on his face before a strong hand luckily interfered.
Immediately, her face snapped up towards the stern gaze of her father, King Vailant. Her arms slackened with shame. Drystan straightened up, readjusting his shirt, seeming unfazed. "You are 14," stated Vailant, "I suggest you begin behaving yourselves."
"He started it," yapped Riona in rebuttal, still too consumed with guilt to look her father in the eye — fearing punishment.
Drystan rolled his eyes. "Of course."
Vailant shook his head, a hand reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose as any hopeless parent would. He sighed, "It does not matter. What is important is that you should keep your bickering to yourselves when in the presence of the public eye. Fists and swords should be out of sight too. The world has enough violence, we do not need it in the family too. Go take your seats."
"Yes father," they said in submissive unison. Drystan ambled beside his sister muttering with a strange satisfaction, "Father won't always be there to help you, you know. You do not have any friends either to watch your back. You should be worried." The young girl's brows frowned. Drystan was stating the obvious again. "What makes you so sure about yourself? You don't even bother to fend yourself," she retorted.
"I am no fighter," said Drystan, "I have friends who do it for me and beside me."
"I envy you..."
"Envy me? Ha, you're the one to be envied, sister. You are the favourite of the court after all," snorted Drystan, his face turning away as he plopped down on a cushioned seat, folding his wings. Riona shook her head, her eyes falling to the plate before her. "No, it is as you said. I don't have friends. I only have Vance."
Drystan's gaze returns to his sister. His stare was sharp with thought, yet he remained without a word. Not long, a pair of soft gentle hands rested on his shoulders. His mother, Elenor Amaris Deveraux, first wife of King Vailant. A breathtaking woman who would make people question why the king would have desired a second wife. "In a sour mood again you two?" she questioned. Riona leaned back in her seat, "As per usual."
"Oh don't say that. Could I perhaps lift this dark atmosphere with two cups of vanilla tea?"
Riona's eyes brightened, "Oh yes! That would be much appreciated, Elenore!"
Drystan sighed, "I don't like vanilla, Mother, but I won't turn away a cup of cinnamon tea."
Elenore grinned, "I'll have them brought right away." With that, she twirled around in her mesmerizing dark green gown.
Riona turned to her brother with excitement, as if she hadn't tried to murder him a mere moment ago. "Your mother is so delightful. What do you make of a game of chess?" Drystan's ears perked up at the suggestion. He loved chess. He nodded vigorously, "Yeah, I'll get the board, you bring the tea."
~*°*~
The twins were seated in the garden. For once they were cooperating or was it because they were concentrating on slaying each other on the chess board? Drystan was about to move his bishop when a horrific sound pieced the cool air. Both their eyes turned towards the hall doors. The light streamed out with shadows flailing around. Drystan stood with eyes wide. Riona grabbed his arm. Her lips struggled to whisper, "B-brother, that sounded distressing... We must hide. Now."
"My mother is there," he breathed, "We have to retrieve her!"
"No!" she hissed, "We must—"
Her sentence was interrupted by men yelling. The guardsmen and likely Vance's father, head guard. Drystan nonetheless tugged his half-sister up. He practically dragged her along to the side entrance from the garden yet his feet halted at the horrific sight before him. Riona was confused as to why he was only starting ahead until her gaze settled upon the gore-covered tiles. Out of instinct, she yanked him away, their legs now running around the gardens towards the kitchens. There they slicked through halls towards the library. No one would look there during an attack. Riona pushed Drystan into the back corner behind a couch, immediately she took her place beside him. Riona's breath was jagged but Drystan was not heaving. "My mother... She's..." His sister's head flicked towards him with an expression of horror. "What about father?" she panicked.
Drystan's nose scrunched with a tint of anger as he muttered, "He is a grown man. He can fend for himself. We will wait till the morning."
Her body scooted closer to him. "I fear for the morning."
Drystan only closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if it would be the last for a long time.