What Is Done

Chapter 4 - Hope

The halls of the Castle of Glass were still and quiet in the early hours of the morning. The guards were tired, their gold plated armor making no noise when they shifted their body weight. Princess Khaleesi was always one to wake early. When King Valka was among the living, she crawled into his bed, being just obnoxious enough to have him open one eye and check what was going on. These days, Khaleesi trotted past the guards and into Laverne's room. After all, he was the closest she had to a father now.

Princess Khaleesi wandered past the guards, pushing the heavy doors to his room open with as much strength as she could muster. Laverne had always told the guards that nobody was to disturb him while he slept unless there was an emergency but his sister did whatever she wanted. Sometimes she went to snuggle with Jericho, instead. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. 

Khaleesi poked her head in the room and saw her eldest brother curled up in bed. Laverne had faced the opposite direction. Sun shone in from the window, kissing his face in golden rays. Khaleesi shut the door as quietly as her child-sized hands would let her before running and pouncing on Laverne. Laverne let out a yelp, rolling over slightly. Laverne drifted back to sleep. Khaleesi climbed on top of him until her brother let out a groan. She liked staring at his snowy eyelashes. They acclaimed his pleasant facial features.

"Verne." Khaleesi spoke quietly so as not to fully wake him. She called him that because when she was little, she couldn't fully pronounce either of her brother's names. 

"Hmm?" Laverne kept his eyes closed, trying to fit any last minutes of sleep into his schedule. Waking was something he never wanted to do anymore. He wished he could sleep forever, or at least recreate the feeling of uninterrupted unconsciousness he had when he was comatose for months on end.

Khaleesi decided to poke Laverne's cheek with her finger, repeatedly. "It's time to get up, big brother."

"Mm..." Laverne licked his dry lips. His eyelids still felt heavy. His white eyelashes always looked like they had frost on them in the sunlight of brisk mornings. "What time is it?"

Khaleesi read the fancy analog clock that sat across the room on the fireplace mantel. "Nine in the morning." She barely understood what it said.

Laverne put his forearm across his forehead. "Too early. Another hour," he said, followed by a  yawn. 

Laverne enjoyed sleeping much more than he had before the Great Fire. He slept for much longer than an elf needed to. As to why, well, that was a mystery to the royal physicians.

Princess Khaleesi got off of his stomach and laid down next to him. She fell back asleep with her elder brother and they only awoke when the servants came in to prepare the king for the day.

It had been nearly four and a half years since Valka's demise. Khaleesi would turn ten in the coming months. Moria had gone home a few days after Laverne's coronation. Laverne had asked her to stay as Jericho and he needed their mother. Moria said her elder brother, Laverne and Jericho's uncle, would need her more, which they both knew was a lie. Their mother and their uncle had never had a very good relationship, but perhaps just being in Arün brought back bad memories now.

Laverne was still unable to remember much of anything before the Great Fire of Arün. Bits of his memories would come back every now and then. But his memories wouldn't stay. They would return to the forgotten parts of his mind while he slept.

The royal family ate breakfast, a meal that was vegetarian and free of dairy. Laverne and Jericho had inherited a severe dairy allergy from their mother. All the food the castle kitchens cooked were strictly dairy-free and things that usually called for milk or butter were made with substitutes. Every now and then, the young princess would drink a glass of milk with her meals. She'd always end up with a milk mustache she'd not realize was there until she looked in a mirror. They ate in silence, as they did most days. They did not have much to speak of to each other. Jericho's hands convulsed as he ate, perhaps his insatiable need for his hands to be moving was the reason he was incredibly clumsy.