Refuge In The Shadows

2.

"I get to eat the last biscuit because I am nine minutes older than you!" A boy six years of age burst into the room waving the treat in his hand triumphantly much to the displeasure of his sister. Her tiny fists clutched a violin and bow in anger as her brother paraded the biscuit around like a trophy. Glancing at the sheets of music spread on the table and rosin dust floating in the air, the boy suddenly realised that he had interrupted a father-daughter violin lesson. He started to inch back towards the door in an apologetic manner but stopped in his tracks when their father, Gwilym, cleared his throat.

Gwilym observed the scene with a terrible sadness that was carefully masked with a stern look. "Cadeyrn, please give Carys half of the biscuit–you must learn to share." Cadeyrn scrunched up his face, a face that maintained its childlike roundness, and reluctantly offered Carys a portion of the biscuit. She shyly accepted it with a watery smile. After eating the biscuit, Carys resumed playing the violin while Cadeyrn pulled up a wooden chair next to her so he could listen attentively to her progress.

Gwilym and his wife, Eira, glanced at each other from their places at opposite sides of the room. The same sadness that was churning in Gwilym's dark blue, almost indigo, eyes was expressed clearly in Eira's steely grey irises. They wished that their son would not gloat about this miniscule detail of age. Given the nature of their work, the twins could be orphaned at any given time without warning. The knowledge that Cadeyrn was indeed the eldest twin would immediately change from an excuse to receive more sweets into the obligation and responsibility of caring for his younger twin sister, a heavy burden that neither of his parents wanted him to bear.

But it would be a burden that Cadeyrn would accept without a question. Since the twins' day of birth, their parents immediately saw the beginnings of a lifelong bond between the two. The way that they recognised each other's footsteps without looking, the way that they unconsciously moved their chairs closer together when sitting side by side, the way they communicated with their eyes; these were not attributes that any ordinary bickering pair of siblings shared. "When they are older, they will be a force to be reckoned with," Eira had murmured to her husband a few nights ago.

At the sound of an off-key note from Carys's violin followed by Cadeyrn's laughter, both parents jolted themselves from their wandering thoughts and quickly went back to their tasks before the twins noticed that something was amiss. Eira silently left the room to return to her cooking, while Gwilym asked Carys to play a D major scale. To keep himself occupied, Cadeyrn scribbled his name over and over on a scrap piece of paper.

To an outsider, one would be led to believe that these individuals made up a typical sheep herding farm family indigenous to northern Wales, but to those who knew them well, they were quite the opposite. Gwilym's gaze flittered occasionally to the windows, his eyes as unforgivingly cold as the blades of the daggers hidden carefully under his shirt. Eira's calculated steps as she moved in the kitchen reflected her swiftness in battle. Carys's bow strokes mirrored her graceful sword wielding, while Cadeyrn's precise pencil marks on paper matched the many different ways he could sever a limb from an enemy.

When Eira re-entered the room and announced that dinner was on the table, Cadeyrn launched out of his chair and ran towards the kitchen. "The eldest is allowed to eat first," he exclaimed hastily before disappearing towards the food. Gwilym and Eira could not help but wince at their son's words.