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One of the first things Eoleo had learned was that he’d never be a witch.
He vividly remembered the night he had rushed back into the castle while the magic of the Silver Eve coloured the sky he left behind. He had been cradling a picture book close to his chest. One that he had bought from a masked witch.
His mother’s ladies in waiting could only regard him with pity as he excitedly ran up to them, his guards barely managing to catch up with the kid. Only had the eldest of them gathered the courage to shatter the young prince’s illusion.
He’d never be a witch. That was what she had told him.
All because he hadn’t been born with the gift of magic. Because royal blood coursed through his veins. Magic was a concept he shouldn’t wish for, shouldn’t try to grasp with his own inexperienced hands. Something to be admired from a respectful distance, never to be truly his.
But he was a kid, wasn’t he? The less he should reach for that which he desired, the harder he wanted to do so. It was only in his nature.
Was there wrong in dreaming of tales of kings and witches of old side by side? Perhaps, for the witches he could only admire from the walls that shielded the castle of magic, there was. But not to his father’s eyes. Never to his father’s eyes.
The man had knelt down to his child’s height and gently brushed his bangs to the side to look him in the eye. If he ever wanted something for himself, why shouldn’t he make it his? That much was up to him. Only him.
That’s what his father had taught him when he presented the book to him, before he had asked to borrow it from his son. And who would dare go against a king’s wishes?
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
No Silver Eve was ever the same to the one that had preceded it, yet time and time again, Eoleo found himself ruminating on ways to escape his guards' vigilance to wander off on his own.
Despite Eoleo getting better at the convoluted craft of making runaway plans, his escorts had long picked up with the boy’s usual patterns of conduct. They wouldn’t tear an eye away from him.
On his shoulder, his best companion, his brushbug, grunted. Eoleo reached for them and scratched their head. He understood the creature. He was craving motion as much as them.
Eoleo carefully observed the paths he was walking, the people around him, who enjoyed the festival without a care in the world. The prince looked over his shoulder, only to lock eyes with one of the guards, the blonde one. The man gave him an unimpressed look, causing a sly smile to grow on his cheeks. Given all the years they had spent around him, they had grown accustomed to what could now be called a tradition.
Eoleo personally liked to interpret it as a game of sorts. He doubted the guardsmen saw it the same way though.
The prince had grown tired of the avenues that surrounded the edges of his city. They were mostly devoid of people, and, perhaps more importantly, witches. He took a sharp turn to the side and wandered into the main plaza. Metallic armours kept on clattering behind him.
He reached his hand to his shoulder. His partner in crime, his loyal brushbug, impatiently awaited for the prince’s sign.
The boy eyes flicked to the side and his feet followed suit. There was a small crowd forming around some witches’ grand display of magic trinkets. Had it been any other time, he would have stayed and admired the contraptions, but at that moment he was a man on a mission. And there was an idea bubbling up in his head.
The boy slipped into the crowd, taking advantage of his small size to squeeze past the conglomeration. His guards were struggling to keep up. His brushbug perked up and Eoleo nodded. Less than a second later, the creature had thrown itself to the ground and started a ruckus, effectively closing the gap behind him and giving him his golden chance.
Eoleo slipped his cape’s hood over his head and made a run for it.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
There was a witch standing in front of him.
She regarded him with curiosity from the tent’s opening, where he had hidden away. At her feet, his brushbug companion and the girl’s own hissed at each other, waiting for the sign to throw themselves at each other’s throat. Light seeped from behind her figure and shielded his eyes.
The pointed hat crowning her head gave her role away.
The girl tilted her head and asked him who he was, but before he could even start to process the situation, his guardsmen voices called out for him. With no time to think, he pulled her into his hiding spot.
The prince would need to pray for a silver lining to get out of his self-inflicted situation, and with metal creeping closer marked the end of that year’s escapade, his chances of receiving one were gradually diminishing. Eoleo had only himself to blame. He had sealed his fate the moment he had entered a closed space, effectively nulling any ways of escaping.
Behind him, the earth rose. When the prince turned around, he found that the witch was using a staff to pull the ground up. Both children hid under and everything turned dark.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
The witch’s name was Tetia.
Her step was light as she followed the prince, listening attentively to his explanation. When he finished, she seemed rather confused. Eoleo couldn't quite place why. He was no different to the regular people that simply wished to wander around, hoping to find the magic they had been looking for.
Eoleo could understand Tetia’s line of thought as she debated what she had believed being a prince entailed as for access to magic, though. As a prince, he’d technically have unlimited access to what witches of the Silver Eve could offer, but he was ultimately aware of his responsibilities and compromises with the people. All magic was destined for them, after all.
And above everything else, that which he wanted for himself could only be procured by his own hand.
Eoleo stopped walking and looked into the distance after expressing that thought out loud. When faced with the prince’s words and after a moment’s hesitation, the witch stepped up next to him and offered her help. She wore a friendly look and a sweet smile.
Eoleo’s gaze could only harden for a moment. For a witch to propose her aid so freely to a prince was a rather rare sight. If he had learned anything as a royal was that, for them, the witches' help was a privilege reserved for the people’s happiness.
But he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, much less if it came from someone unaware that her whole arm could be taken just by offering her hand.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Eoleo almost felt as if he truly was a witch. A sea of teal embraced him as he twirled over himself, the ebb and flow of Tetia’s cape drawing the line between his royalty and dreams of magic. The pointed cap sat proudly on top of the boy’s head.
And if Eoleo was a witch, then Tetia was a radiant spring princess. He had told her that much. And now, looking at her, he knew he hadn’t gone astray when he called her ‘lady witch of the dawn’s first light’. The girl shone like dawn itself.
The illusion would be torn away from him the moment he no longer wore the witch’s attire. He knew that much. But that didn’t stop him from savouring the magic of the moment.
Eoleo stepped forward, kneeled in front of Tetia and offered a hand. He let a charming smile show on his face, and complacently watched as Tetia’s hand shot to her mouth, a hint of colour tinting her cheeks.
On his shoulder, his brushbug growled at the other one.
Their interaction was cliché at best, a scene pulled directly from the fairytale books he oh so loved. The ones where the beginnings of fantasy intertwined with history’s loose ends.
Then Tetia slapped her hand against his at full speed. He stared at her while she jumped in place, wholeheartedly agreeing with the idea of clothing being its own kind of magic.
Eoleo’s chest shook in an attempt to restrain his laughter, but his efforts were all but fruitful as a burst of laughter escaped him. The boy tried to calm down, get his words out, but his amusement was proven to be greater than whatever he was trying to formulate.
How bizarre. It wasn’t like him to laugh in such a free manner.
Tetia’s act was mundane. Nothing out of the ordinary, not even for a prince like him. But it was an extremely human gesture. One he would have never expected from a witch. He carefully chose his next course of action as an idea started bubbling in his head.
Wouldn’t it be great for a prince and witch to set their differences aside and be joined in friendship? Tetia gave him that hope. Was it a stupid idea? Had he said something absurd? To his shock, Tetia’s response was that they already were friends.
Her words struck his heart. A genuine smile bloomed on Eoleo’s face. He was overjoyed. And how could he not? Because if a witch like Tetia was willing to befriend him…
The world had stopped. The witch had frozen up. Stared at him with wide open eyes. Her face was devoid of any emotion. Unreadable. The prince’s eyes narrowed. His smile turned sharp.
…then he was one step closer to seeing his lifelong dream of ruling alongside witches fulfilled.
History had a tendency of repeating itself. The days of yore were no longer just a distant fable, but a possible outcome.
The prince offered a hand. An order masked as a request. It was only right she addressed him by name from there on.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Like so many other Silver Eves, Eoleo rushed back to the castle. But this time, instead of curled fists and otherwise well hidden frustration, he was beaming in joy. He immediately went looking for his father and found him at the castle’s wing where the king’s medical procedures were carried out.
Deanreldy lifted his bloodied hands when Eoleo hugged him from behind, careful not to touch his son with them. He hadn’t been expecting his son, for his usual trips around the festival lasted long past the last rays of sun. But circumstances were different that time. The prince had finally found what he wished to have. He just needed the means to make it his. The boy’s father regarded with curiosity but didn’t bother to comment on his intentions.
The decaying body in front of Eoleo caught his eye. Another lost specimen of his father’s. Eoleo’s voice stuttered for a second.
A slip up. Realising he had just called the patient a specimen out loud, Eoleo was quick to correct his choice of words, sugarcoat the reality of the procedure just like he had seen his father do so many times before. There were more people in the room, after all, even if the prince paid them no mind whatsoever. The king didn’t even bat an eye.
There was a way to change the tides, they both knew that. They needed magic.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Difference is the only quality all of them shared.
Eoleo remembered leaning on the railing of one of the castle balconies when his father had said those words to him. The prince had looked down to the people that gathered all around their city, yet he didn’t quite grasp the depths of such a statement.
Looking into the distance, into the clearing where his people had been evacuated to while a monstrous leech tried to feed on them, he thought he finally started to understand.
That applied to witches too, didn’t it? He couldn’t help but go against the idea he had been instilled with ever since he was a little kid. Perhaps witches really weren’t that different from regular people.
…had his perspective on them changed, if only so slightly? Maybe. And if so, Eoleo had an idea who he had to thank for that.
And looking at the teenage witch gripping his scarred wrists, he didn’t doubt he was doing the correct way to proceed.
The witch’s eyes widened and his chest got caught in emotion. He had been understood. His feelings validated. They both looked into the distance.
The people were struggling. They were scared. Uncertain of what would happen. And against all odds, they prevailed.
There had to be something they could do. Eoleo’s eyes lit up as an idea hit him. Of course, how hadn't he thought of that. The prince twirled on the tree branch he had stepped on moments ago to turn back towards the teenager witch. If there was any way to locate Tetia amongst the crowd, then maybe the situation could be turned around.
The witch wasn’t thrilled by the prince’s suggestion. He retreated a little bit into himself, afraid at the thought of seeing his sister once more, like he explained. A remorse that ran deep like scars clouded his eyes.
Eoleo tilted his head. He would have guessed the witch’d be excited at the thought of reuniting with her, but his reaction proved otherwise. Then again, Eoleo knew nothing of his history.
A flash of light twirled in front of the pair. Meters away, a family reunited, guided by the white glow of a crystal bangle.
Eoleo directed his attention towards the witch again, ready to tell him he wouldn’t ask for him to accompany him if he truly didn’t wish to. But something had changed in the witch. He quickly unfurled the ribbon that kept his braid neatly tied. With newfound determination, the witch rushed after the ribbon that now guided his steps.
˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Admittedly, it was a rather strange sensation, walking the long castle halls without his brushbug companion on his shoulder.
He had sent them on a… missing of sorts. And judging by the nature of it, it probably wouldn’t be long before he was reunited with his brushbug. Eoleo tapped his finger over the handrail of the stairs he was climbing and a smile slipped out of him at the thought. If everything went as planned, his brushbug wouldn't be the only one he’d get to meet again.
When he got to the base of the stairs, the prince spared a glance at the Wise in Teachings’ chamber. His door was wide open, nurses rushing in and out at all times, but he no longer seemed to be bothered by their constant intrusion. Or at least he pretended not to be anymore.
The man’s frown burrowed even further and he drew circles between his eyebrows. He slowly leaned back against the wall and hesitantly opened his mouth but whatever his words were going to be, they got swallowed by the king’s voice. Eoleo could only watch as the resigned, powerless witch slumped down in defeat.
He was no better than a wounded bird caught in the lion’s den.
Wise Beldaruit’s eyes snapped towards the door. They didn’t soften up a single bit at the sight of the prince. Eoleo held his stare for a second before leaving the Wise to his father’s mercy.
The kid eventually reached the top of the castle’s inner wall. Winter announced its arrival as a chill crept into the air and the mountain tops got tinted in white. Even if witches roamed the castle, its walls were as devoid of magic as they had always been. No magic could shield them from the cruel season inside the castle.
Eoleo’s shoes tapped on the stone floor as he stopped behind Riliphin, the teenager witch he had met a few days prior. He looked uneasy, and while he showed gratitude for the monarch’s permission for their stay, he seemed more than willing to leave the castle behind as fast as possible.
Eoleo’s eyes narrowed, an expression of feigned hurt plastered on his face. Why would the witch be in such a hurry to leave, he wondered out loud, causing the poor teenager to start nervously shaking his hands while excusing himself.
It’d take a long time for master and apprentice to take their leave. Not only would Wise Beldaruit’s fracture need proper care, but chances were he’d then have to go through physical rehabilitation. And where could they possibly find better treatment than at Ezrest castle?
It was extremely convenient for the royals too, but he wouldn’t tell Riliphin that last part.
The prince made a gesture towards his escorts, which had been trailing behind him all along, and they slipped the boy’s cape over his shoulders. They also took the one he had been carrying and put it on Riliphin’s.
The boy’s cape was ill-fitting over the young witch’s own. Eoleo understood that capes held great importance in the witch’s society, maybe only less than their hats, so the act of overshadowing it with a royal’s sent a very clear message.
They didn’t hold any power over them.
Riliphin shuddered as if he felt smaller, weaker with the foreign cap draping over his own. That was as much the case as it was the intention.
But, really, what could witches wish to do in a situation such as the one they had found themselves in? Stuck in a place that directly blocked their ‘gift’ of magic, with no other remedy than to depend on them, the ones that didn’t have it. Eoleo’s smile got bitter.
Winter wouldn’t bring gifts to any of them, much less to witches that dared it with the kind of unease that now clouded Riliphin’s eyes.
A sneeze broke the kid out of his trance. Everyone turned to look at his blond guard, which bashfully apologised.
…Eoleo had probably said enough for the day anyways.
The prince pushed Riliphin forward. The teenager shied away from the hand the boy had put on his back and gave Eoleo a puzzled look.
The image of the witch that only a few days ago had looked up at the prince from his misery, with a certain kind of admiration tinted with hope, had long been swallowed by the castle’s walls.
It was a shame, truly. He really had wished for a genuine friendship to bloom, but Eoleo was aware of his duty. Of his dream. If using the people around him as peons helped him at least be a step closer to that, he wouldn’t doubt using them.
Eoleo wouldn’t regret it.