Heir of Dreams and Princess of Light

Chapter 7: The One Left Behind

(Just a small warning: Some minor Crescent City spoilers ahead. K, enjoy!)

Three years later

Estelle shoved at the window, cursing under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit, shit."  But no matter how hard she pushed, the window refused to open. She huffed out a breath and banged the heel of her hand into the glass, frustrated. Exhausted, she crouched down to rest on her toes, leaning her forehead against the cool stone of the castle walls. 

It was far too late to go around the front gates again, especially after she'd wasted so much time sneaking over them. Even if her pride could take admitting to the guards that she'd snuck out again, she didn't think her conscience could take the sure tongue-lashing they'd get from her mother when word reached her. 

There was also the problem of the raging headache pounding through her skull. She blamed whatever had been in the liquor that asshole blacksmith had given her. It'd done its job, knocking her mind out effectively enough that she couldn't quite recall what she'd been doing that night, if she'd even done anything at all. But the stuff wasn't supposed to work that fast. It definitely wasn't supposed to wear off this fast, that was for damn sure.

She glared down at the green Terrasen grass. She supposed she'd slept on worse. 

"Need some help?" Surprised, Estelle shrieked and promptly fell backward on her ass, her shoes flying out of her hand as she flailed around. It was a very un-princess thing to do, and she struggled to correct herself as fast as she could. Blowing her hair out of her face, she raised her eyes to the now-open window, and her brother frowning down at her from within it. 

"No," She grumbled. "I'm fine." She got to her feet, dusting off her pants and nabbing her boots from where they'd fallen. She motioned for him to get out of the way. He didn't. 

"What are you doing, Estelle?" Reave asked, crossing his arms. From here, she could make out his form silhouetted against the candlelight burning behind him. His long silver hair almost reached his shoulders now, she noticed suddenly. When had that happened? She squinted for a moment, trying to remember. 

"Estelle!"

Oh, right, he'd asked her a question. "Nothing. What are you still doing up?" 

"Waiting for you," Came the short answer. "I saw you leave. Seven hours ago."

Distantly, Estelle realized that Reave was actually quite angry with her. "So? I just went into Orynth. I do it all the time." 

"Fuck, Estelle," Reave hissed, leaning forward onto the windowsill, his still-growing shoulders blotting out enough of the candlelight that she could see his face now. The glimmering gray-and-black tattoo he'd gotten for his nineteenth birthday gleamed on his exposed neck. She couldn't remember the translation of the thing. She vaguely remembered him telling her once, but she couldn't recall it just then. "Do you know what tomorrow-- or really, today is?"

Estelle racked her brain. "Um." 

Reave cursed once more, then stepped back. Quickly, Estelle tossed her shoes inside, then scrabbled up onto the window herself, using her arms to pull herself inside. She slipped on the sill and tumbled to the floor with an oomph. 

"Oops," She muttered, standing and grabbing her shoes again. She pushed some of her hair out of her eyes only to find Reave standing in front of her again. She blinked at how close he was, tilting her head back slightly to meet his eyes. She prepared to be scolded, or perhaps just for him to begin dragging her away. Those seemed the likely options, although Reave wasn't usually the violent one. She was.