Anathema

Homecoming

The galloping of horses could be heard in the outermost parts of the kingdom, as the group made its way, passing through. A silence had been settled upon the people ever since the rumors of an ill tzar had spread. Every time a hoof made contact with the slick ground, it could be heard all over as if it were disrupting and shattering any comfort and hope the people had. The prince who stuck out like a sore thumb, with his velvet cloak, and thick warm boots, was met with cold stares from all over.

His gaze shifted over them, some bits of a conscience slipping through his pompous gaze. A small grimace could be seen on his face, where his smile lines were now bent slightly downwards.

They proceeded, making their way to the center of the kingdom, where the royal castle of Astrenya lay.

The castle stood in all its glory; light reflecting off the golden ridges that were now part of the kingdom's last standing treasures. And as the guards opened the final gate, which secluded the castle and its dwellers from the rest of the world, Nikola felt a wave of anxiety pass over him, something which he was not accustomed to, and held pure hatred for. 

“My brother!” Yelled a voice to the side of him. There stood a man, young like himself, a smile beaming on his face, as he took in the sight in front of him.

“Ела!” He motioned at Nikola. At this, Nikola hopped off the horse, handing the steed to a nearby stableboy. Both friends stalked towards each other, full smiles now adorning both faces. Quickly their arms wrapped around each other, neither hasty to let go.

“It’s been so long, dear friend. I was wondering when you’d leave your wallows.” Spoke the dark-haired one.

“Don’t be so foul, you know how things are between me and my father.” He slowly pulled away, taking in his friend, almost a brother. “Enough about me, how are you doing Miro?” 

The friend let out a long breath before replying. “Training.” He paused, not wanting to give bad news. “We are closer to war with our neighbors than we ever have been. Many of the men are already in training, even some of the elders.” He stressed, fiddling with some tufts of hair. 

Silence had not even lasted a second between the two before, a squeal could be heard from behind them.

“Ти малко лайно.” The voice cussed out, “It’s about time you came home to us.” The brunette girl ran up to her brother, embracing him in a tight hug. 

“You know how father and I are. There would be constant fighting between us.” He spoke with a breathy laugh. After the words had left the younger sibling’s lips, an overwhelming heaviness settled between the group; one subject sat unspoken, yet on everyone's minds.

“As you’ve heard, Father is gravely ill.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. I’ve also heard that the tensions between us and the Feirins are higher than ever.” 

A look of disappointment came over the princess’s face in response to her brother’s stubbornness, and unwillingness to speak of their father. She’d never say it aloud, but Niko and their father were much more alike than both of the men would like to think. 

“Yes.” She confirmed, sadness and disappointment still lingering in her voice. She’d hoped that her little brother would have at least partially shoved his resentment towards their father aside, especially when that very father was on his deathbed right now. 

“Niko…” She paused, hesitant to voice what she was about to say, “you can’t hate him forever…”

The younger one avoided his sister’s sincere gaze, wishing she’d drop the subject, the subject being their father. He didn’t hate him really, but he envied the affection he gave to everyone but him—his very own son.