Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

That is a Promise

Edric looked at the bruise on his hand and sighed. Running the cold water through. The silence in the house was long gone. Instead erupting with screaming and echoing noise.

He waited for it to quiet down, and for the familiar sounds of Amity storming into her room. Then he could get up and bandage her. Knowing the wrath their mother was capable of.

Everything would be alright, he assured himself. It was always alright.

Walking out the door, he comes to see his twin sister holding the first aid kit. Probably from the loose tile of the weapon room. He gave her a small nod in gratitude, pulling down his sleeve so she couldn't see.

Emira spots it anyway, he can see the frown that crawls on her face. She says nothing, however, knowing exactly how Edric would respond to her.

It's already happened too many times before.

They waited in their rooms for their little sister's footsteps to come in through her room. Edric doesn't worry too much. They've done this before.

Many times before.

The thought is almost sad.

But Edric doesn't allow himself to feel that way. He was supposed to be a better brother. And better brothers didn't feel pity for themselves. He would not allow himself to have a repeat of the library incident. He would work to be better.

He had to be, Mittens deserved nothing less.

Edric does not mean to be cruel or mean. He does not mean to take his pranks too far. He just... sometimes the thrill of it all got to his head. The adrenaline was addicting. A drug he couldn't stop taking it.

He enjoyed the sweet taste of freedom on his lips. Even if it was momentary.

The short lived happiness is always worth their mother's wrath.

Everyone living here has a chain tied to their wrists and ankles, reminding them of their surname. But when he and Em make their plans... he can't feel it weighing him down. Of course he knows it's still there, it's hard to ever forget it's existence. But it felt lighter somehow.

Pranks were funny and silly. He didn't get to be that as a kid. He didn't get the sweet bliss of being a child. This was the closest thing he had to that. Edric just wanted to make sure he could take every bit of it before it was inevitably taken away from him.

But like most things, it came with a cost.

Normally, he wouldn't care for the cries or screams that erupted from his peers. All running around like witchings from the animals that usually got involved.

But then that cost came in the form of Amity.

Edric is trying to be better. And so is Emira. And this isn't an excuse for how they acted before, but... it's an explanation at best.

The only son of the Blights had been so caught up in his thinking he had not realized the stomping of a pair of heels. It did not sound like mother's. Mother's heels never tapped like that. And father's shoes did not sound like that either.

Could it be...Lilith?

He doesn't leave his room. He couldn't risk that. He needs to be in good condition to tend to his little sister. Not that Emira's bandaging wasn't helpful, he just tended to be more gentle in the subject.

Emira was better at making ointments. Despite being in the Illusions track, she was naturally gifted in potions. A gift that would never leave the confinements of their room.

Never.

The footsteps grow more rapid, loudly echoing through the halls. Edric wonders what caused her to run so frantically. He had analyzed her footsteps before, never were they this... messy.