#laylan

It wasn’t that their mother didn’t love them. It was that she’d never known how to have a family, and the fall out of that was emotional neglect- despite her best attempts. Kalfu understood this. At least now that he was older, he did, and he could see how hard his mother tried to be supportive of him. It was just that... bringing problems to her was always a little hard. Things that he’d prefer to untangle, she’d tell him to cut. Things he wanted to do gently, she’d tell him to do bluntly.

It was also clear that Laylan was their mother’s favorite. Which wasn’t any fault of his mother, or Laylan, but simply that the two of them were woven from the same thread. The didn’t mince words, they didn’t hold back what needed to be said- and sometimes, Laylan said things that she knew would hurt people on purpose. Caris had tried to curtail this when she was younger, but the women’s lack of tolerance for bullshit bonded them tightly.

Kalfu had never been that way, and he’d long preferred the company of his father. He tried not to put words in the mirror’s mouth, but he liked to think that he was his father’s favorite. Dilara was much more pack-minded, a much better listener, and someone that didn’t always see venting as a reason for advice. Kalfu could just get things out of his system to his father, and most of the time Dilara just let it be left at that.

But even this wasn’t something Kalfu could take to his father. Or his mother. Or Zimri.

For the first time in his young adult life- he truly felt alone.

What he’d seen Laylan doing in the wastes to that dragon was something Kalfu struggled to even decide if it was real. He kept waiting to wake up, and realize this was all a bad dream. Those sickly twisted bones... that terrible begging.

His sister had always been adept with magic. She’d taken to it like a cleaner to a corpse, and her tutor had always sung her praises to their parents. She would be a strong leader.

What had stood over that mangled mess had not been a leader at all. And Kalfu couldn’t tell anyone.

Returning to his tent, he found Merlin reading in bed. Slipping off his clothes and wiping his feet, Kalfu slid under the covers, and wrapped his arms around the tundra. Merlin hummed and pet across Kalfu’s cheek, readjusting until comfortable and continuing to read.

“I can’t talk about it... but I don’t feel good.” Mumbling into Merlin’s side, Kalfu couldn’t quite bring himself to look up.

“... I’m sorry you don’t feel good, dove. Can I do anything?”

“Stay with me today?”

It was days. Kalfu was taken down by the heavy weight of depression and secrets, and the only reason he got out of bed was to relieve himself. Merlin, of course, made sure he ate at least a little, but a full meal was out of the question. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it. He just couldn’t let it go.

A nightmare was the last straw. Like all his energy for doing finally rolled up into a single ball and then punched him in the gut. In the middle of the night he got up and left the tent. He headed for Laylan’s. It was empty. So he headed for the wastes. That craggy outcropping of pulsating rock was just far enough away from the clan that it was a good place for secrets, but not far enough that a dragon really felt the need to fly to get there. Laylan always had weak wings. Weak wings. Weak morals. Nothing fit for a leader.

But she was there, sitting on the ground with a tiny serthis in a cage. Clearly a new hatchling, but strong enough to have already killed its nestmates. A few vials of what Kalfu could only assume was venom were sitting against a rock. Laylan raised up her claw, and though it was silent, the young serthis began to writhe chaotically- in pain. It was too much.

“Laylan stop it!” He shouted.

She startled, and the magic stopped, though the serthis continued to writhe against the bars of the cage as though it could squeeze itself through if it tried hard enough.

“Kalfu, what are you doing up-”

“I saw what you did with that dragon, too, and you have to stop. You have to stop doing these things, Laylan!”

Her demeanor turned cold and she rose to her feet. “What did you see, Kalfu?”

“You were doing magic on- on what should’ve been a corpse. Maybe what was a corpse. It begged you to stop. It screamed-”

“That was just a bad dream, brother.”

“It was not, I saw it!”

“Sometimes dreams can feel very real.”

“You’re doing it again right now!” He motioned towards the serthis.

She opened her mouth to protest again, to try and lie again, but Kalfu couldn’t stand it. He lunged with his claws outstretched and his teeth bared- it was unlike him. So unlike him that Laylan was too shocked to react. Too startled by this vicious turn to defend herself.

He hadn’t meant to bite so hard.

He’d just wanted her to stop.

Her last cry echoed out into the still night, and as her magic released the serthis started to scream- it’s pain no longer silenced by Laylan.

The guards that arrived weren’t sure at first what they had walked in on.

Kalfu had crumpled over Laylan and held her, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Was it an attack?!” “Are there more?”

The alarm was raised before Kalfu could admit his fault. Zimri had rushed out to the heir’s defense, only to look upon wounds that were too deep for a serthis. Kalfu’s mouth painted with evidence.

Caris and Dilara sequestered themselves with their more trusted advisors. Kalfu was taken to the outskirts of the clan and put in chains- guarded, but unable to move more than to stand up and lay down.

Maghnus, with a heavy heart, was the one who took responsibility for Laylan’s body.