#strainedfriendship

Not Us Again [2]

Word count: 1,046

Content warnings: minor mentions of anxiety 

Protagonist[s]: Endastrios 

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He grew from that moment on, from a child of his house into a man of a nation, of a boy of 16 into a man of 17. Not much difference, he knew, but in the course of a year, Endastrios learned more than he had in a lifetime. The future, the future was all that mattered. Not Tal'tali, not Breth-both of them were dead, literally and figuratively, respectively. In the span of a short year, Endastrios evolved from the apprehensive youngster he was, into a cold, callous King. It was a transformation so drastic, the Maeyorim had no remembrance of the child he was that fall. In honesty, he quite preferred it that way. His new reputation was one he took very seriously, and he formed a wall of paint and silk around his clockwork core. In it was in the time that he grew, he recalled a particular morning, one he now realized he should have regarded with caution. Endastrios sat outside this morning, far from the safe council of Brohomah and the palace, far out into the forest, in a place he found welcoming deep inside the isle’s wood. Why this place called to him, he didn’t know. It was upon a flat, cold stone he sat, with trees all around him, birds chattering away-maybe that was it, the stone. He spent several hours just sitting there, meditating in the welcome retreat of his own mind. It was something he was grateful for, alone time. The last few days had been dreadful and hectic, chaotic and far too much for him to comprehend at once. He awoke with anxiety that morning, though he didn’t know exactly why, and took the opportunity to sneak out into his hiding place. Endastrios inhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. Yes, this place was a blessing. Unfortunately for him, he’d been found, insects sent scurrying away from the bushes, the young king’s eyes cracking open in annoyance at the chuckling figure who emerged.

“Good morning! I been lookin’ for you!” It called.

Endastrios’ response was a mumble, audibly tired. “Morning, Morgan.” His  eyes closed once more. Again, Endastrios’ lungs pushed air from them, though this time with more effort.

“Morgan-as to you, your highness! How you been? Look at you, how big you done gone and grown!” Morgan laughed, waving a finger in Endastrios’ direction. He, with flourish of his arm, sat beside the shorter boy, bringing his arm to wrap around his shoulders. His pale, deeply sunken eyes taking a good look at him, smile on his face. “Never have I seen a king so young.”

Endastrios’ face scrunched, his golden eyes narrowing. “Never has there been a king to see.” Endastrios tutted, slipping out of Morgan’s grasp, “Never have I seen a god with so much hair.”

“Well,” Morgan said, breathy, “I’m not a god yet. Soon though.” He chuckled awkwardly, stuttering and stumbling over his words, before pointing past Endastrios’ head. “You have a visitor, Breth, look.” 

And Endastrios did, to see the image of someone rather unfamiliar. He turned his head back to Morgan, only to see air and nothing more. In what felt like the span of a blink, the beat of his heart, sat a stranger. They said nothing, simply tilting their head.

...well that made him uneasy. A long silence passed between them, until Endastrios could handle it no longer. “Can I help you?” 

“Oh certainly. The king should always help his people. Is that not right?”

“I’m sorry? Yes, of course, I-”

“I was at the council. I’m a child of the North, my father was the elder who gave you your title, Endastrios. My name is Nahtalgan.” They place a hand to their chest, almost friendlily. The look in their eye, it should have frightened him, yet it made him want to listen. It was some malevolent amiability that Endastrios had yet to understand, that he thought he never would.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. What do you need?” If this Nahtalgan found him, then surely he’d need something done. Everyone needed something these days. Perhaps that was the pessimist in him, he considered.

Nahgaltan shook his head. “Just wanted to know when the funeral was, princey.” He gave the young king a look that was far too smug, a smirk on Nahgaltan’s lips. “Hmm? Pottoeno la ashlinaag?”

“You think they’d have a funeral for you?” Endastrios hissed, his hands intertwined in his lap, though his face remained blank. He revealed slightly in the expression of disappointment on the other Maeyorim’s face, though he kept his eyes low. 

Nahgaltan’s gaze was a heated one, an odd pause in his speak before he spoke again. “Funny.” He shrugged, then, his movements staggered. “But you’re probably right. I don’t think they would. After all, they chose some sixteen year old kid to lead them, instead of me. But don’t worry,” He said, “I got people in my corner, too.” The noble boy paused, his brown, curious eyes lingering on Endastrios’ shovel like horns for a moment, reaching to his bare head. The boy shook his head, bringing his hands together. A crocked smile shone on his lips, his index finger upon them, turning on his heel. The other, younger man watched with mild confusion, his mouth agape.

“Nice chat!” Endastrios called as he watched this stranger move on back into the woods. He sighed, closing his eyes and crossing his legs. He breathes, slowly, listening closely to the birds, quietly hoping they’d just be quiet again.

“Well he’s an odd one, ain’t he?”

And there was Morgan, right on time.

And so Like two fish upon a desert land We flail

You open your mouth To grasp at language we once Understood

We are trying To swim in a place where there is No water

We are fish But we are not home We are surviving Not Living

We are trying to exist In a world where We do not belong

We are trying to be Something that we Have never been;