A significant change swept through the orphanage. By the time they were ten, Rurik and Luna had become the ones who dictated the rules—not the caretakers, and certainly not the other children.
It started small: Luna would plant a suggestion, and Rurik would enforce it. A missing dessert here, an extra chore there. Soon, the other kids learned that compliance meant a smoother existence.
Resistance? Well, Rurik was not above physical persuasion when needed. Despite his young age, he was often both larger and stronger than older kids, and even when he wasn't, he was both better and meaner in a fight.
As for those that worked with them, they were given plenty of benefits to reinforce their obedience.
The pair moved like a unit, Luna the mind and Rurik the muscle, though the line between those roles often blurred.
Luna may have been the one with an ability to give simple suggestions to others, but Rurik's charisma drew them to him. Despite his action and alliance with Luna, there seemed to always be an aura of amicability around him that made others quickly forgive his transgressions.
His charm convinced caretakers to turn a blind eye or even grant special favours, while Luna's whispers, and the fear she created, shaped the landscape, ensuring everyone stayed exactly where they needed them to be.
The caretakers were almost easier to handle than the children. They were tired, and more than willing to ignore the subtle shift in power, if it meant less conflict.
Although Luna was careful not to expose her ability to them in the same way she did with the children, she could still soften their minds subtly. She made them believe that the little transgressions weren't worth addressing, while Rurik flashed his disarming smile and promised that everything was under control.
* * *
When they were twelve, a new boy arrived. He was cocky, brash—the kind who thought he could take over the playground just by being loud enough.
Luna watched from her usual spot by the window, her gaze flicking to Rurik, who stood with his arms crossed near the fence. She could see the tension in his posture, the way his eyes followed the newcomer's movements.
"He'll need a lesson," Luna said later, her voice barely more than a murmur as she approached Rurik.
Rurik looked at her, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "I'll handle it."
And he did. It didn't take long—a shove, a pin against the wall, a few choice words that left the new boy pale and shaken. By the next day, he was quiet, his gaze avoiding both Luna and Rurik as he fell in line with the rest.
* * *
For a few years, life was good for the duo as they ruled over their own little fiefdom. Whenever prospective parents came to perhaps adopt someone, most kids were practically chomping at the bits to get out of there, away from the tyrannical duo, and into the hopefully loving arms of their new family.
Yet, it was different for Luna and Rurik. They made sure that the caretakers lowered interest in them as much as possible, while generally behaving atrociously when these people came. They didn't want to leave their own territory, and they certainly didn't want to risk the chance of being split up.
Not only did they make a good team, but the care they felt for each other rose with every year. They were already of the opinion that it was them against the world, and neither of them wanted to continue on their own.
Then, when a government inspector came, they'd turn turn things around. Suddenly, they became model orphans. Rurik's charm and Luna's whispers always made them leave with the feeling this orphanage was a worthy institution that could do with some extra funding.
* * *
Finally, at fourteen, they began to dream bigger. The orphanage was small, and the world beyond it felt vast and ripe for the taking.
It started with sneaking out at night, slipping through the gate with keys they'd obtained from the caretakers and into the dark streets of Trondheim.
From there, they began to dabble in minor crime—petty theft at first. A wallet lifted here, a shoplifted item there. It wasn't about the money; it was about control, about pushing boundaries and seeing just how far they could go.
They were careful, meticulous—never taking more than they could get away with, never drawing too much attention. Then, when they were done with their business, they'd slip back into their rooms at the well-respected and highly-secure orphanage with none the wiser.
* * *
One night, after returning from one of their outings, they climbed into bed together, as they did more and more often lately, and Luna cuddled up to the larger Rurik.
Luna's heart was still racing slightly from the thrill of their latest escapade, and she could feel the adrenaline in Rurik's steady breathing beside her.
Luna lay on her side, her head resting on Rurik's shoulder, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the fabric of his shirt. The city lights twinkled faintly through the room's windows, and the air between them was filled with an electric stillness.
"One day," Luna murmured, her voice barely louder than a whisper, "we won't have to come back here."
Rurik turned his head slightly to look at her, a smile playing on his lips. "Where will we go?" he asked, his voice deep and calm, as if the answer was already a certainty.
"Anywhere we want," Luna said, her eyes distant as she imagined it. "We'll have a place of our own. No rules, no caretakers. Just us."
Rurik's arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. "Just us," he echoed. He liked the sound of that—a world where they made the rules, where they didn't have to answer to anyone but each other.
"We'll need money," he said after a moment, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Real money. Not just the coins we've been taking."
Luna nodded, her gaze fixed on his eyes, a smile playing on her lips. "We'll figure it out. I bet we could simply repeat what we did here on a larger scale."
Rurik grinned, a fierce pride in his eyes. "That's true. All we'll need to do is find people—use them, control them. Whatever it takes."
Luna tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "You and me against the world, Rurik. No one else matters."
He looked down at her, his expression softening just a fraction. "No one else," he agreed, his voice a quiet promise.
They lay there in silence, the weight of their words settling between them like a pact. They may not know exactly what would happen, but Luna and Rurik knew one thing for sure: whatever future they carved out, they would carve it out together.
* * *
By sixteen, they finally left the orphanage behind for good. Over the last two years they'd already begun to build a network of street kids, easily manipulated adults, and adolescents who came from the same orphanage as them, yet were forced to leave due to age.
They had the money to get their own apartment in the city, from where they'd decided to continue building their rapidly growing influence.
Yet, a few months after they'd both turned sixteen, their first real problem arose.