The young platinum-haired girl was in pain, but she didn't mind the physical wounds as she scraped and clawed her way as far back underneath the large canopy bed as she could possibly squeeze herself. She was grateful for her small size in some distant part of her mind, but every other faculty she possessed demanded that she get as far away and as low down to the floor as humanly possible before another hand was laid on her skin. She had played the part of a docile and dumb child until she had been left to her own devices, and in truth it hadn't been difficult. She'd been too scared out of her wits to do anything else but stand and stare and be carried along, but now that she was alone, her every instinct had come roaring back to life and demanded movement. Demanded escape.
She was alone in the lavish prison that she had been deposited in, but the little girl found no comfort in the thought when she had seen the back of the tall, scarred lavender-haired soldier who had brought her there. Rather, the thought that she was alone only scared her more, and made her yearn for the boy who was her other half that she had not seen since her nightmarish ride to her new hell. In her short, short memory she could not remember ever being separated from her twin, but her captors had seen fit to separate the children when her elder brother had fought back against their grabbing hands. Now she was on her own with no brother to protect her, and she quickly scanned her surroundings in a desperate, feral hope for a way out.
The armoured soldier who had escorted her to her prison had left her with a pitying look before he had locked the door behind him, and she knew already there was no use in trying such an avenue. The windows to her left had likewise been barred shut, and a quick glance out through the glass had proven a long and deadly drop to the ground that she had no desire to test. Every other door in her lavish prison, a beautiful room of opulent furniture and trappings led nowhere of use to her, and with a longing glance at the single exit one last time, she had settled herself on her stomach and began the hasty crawl underneath the four poster bed which dominated the entire room.
It was a tight fit, her nails were broken and her hands ached from her clawing attempts to bring her back to the firm safety of the wall at the end, and she felt blood trickling down her cheek and jaw from where she had smacked her head off of the wooden slats above. The pain however was distant, drowned out by fear and a feral desperation for what safety the tight confines could offer, and with speed born of it, she made her way as far back as she could go. If it was a difficult trek to get to the wall, it was even more of a trial to twist her tiny form around so she could face the only entrance to her room, but she wouldn't allow her back to be given to anyone again if she could prevent it. It had been because her back was turned that she had gotten into such a position in the first place, and terror and anguish had struck her down before she had thought to fight.
Now, however, she had resolved to fight if she was touched again. She would kick, claw, and bite all she could before she allowed someone else to snatch her away or do her harm. Her brother had been wiser than she, protecting her with all the strength in his small, wiry little frame, and his absence was like the loss of a limb, and she closed her eyes momentarily as she summoned up the last image she had of her precious twin brother. His fighting had earned him a cruel and calculating blow to the side of the head that had knocked him unconscious, and she had stared in whimpering horror as the lifeless frame of her brother had been tossed about to another knight for the long ride from home. She herself had been scooped up by another, and neither of the men holding the children had seen fit to treat them any better than they would a package for delivery.
Her cheek still smarted from the backhand she had earned when she had refused to comply quickly enough for her captor, and she could still taste that bitter tang of blood and raw flesh with her tongue. The ride had seemed to take forever on horseback, and the cruel and uncaring treatment had told her enough of what to expect of the strangers she was now surrounded by. She did not know where her twin had been taken, and the separation only made her fall all the more quickly back on her baser instincts, but she was content to rely on them in place of her former protector. He could no longer come to her aid as she was used to, and the warmer memories that should have comforted her were fading away. She was terrified and hurt, and there was now only the instinct to flee, to fight, and to survive that dominated her brain. Everything else was unimportant.
Still, she could not stop the hot tears from trickling over her bruised cheeks, nor could she completely stifle her broken little sobs. Animal she might have become, but she was still a child, still a frightened, hurt, and broken little creature, and she knew no other way to express herself than through tears. She pressed the palm of her hand to her mouth, hoping to stifle the sound as a little part of her warned that to make noise was counterproductive to hiding, but still the tears flowed and her chest ached with the force of her emotions. She wanted a pair of warm arms to pull her close, she wanted the soft voice of her mother to croon away her pain or the firm and constant presence of her brother, but she was far away from such things now. No one would come to her rescue no matter how she cried... She was on her own now.
The sound of approaching footsteps stopped her wishing, and as best as she could in her confined space, she tensed her body and waited expectantly. Soft snivels escaped her mouth, she was unable to stop herself from making them, but the tears stopped flowing as she eyed the door that she could see clearly from her position underneath the bed. Three sharp knocks on the door followed when the footsteps ceased, and then a voice called with a mixture of question and announcement, but she barely understood the words that were spoken through the pounding in her head. Part of her recognized youth in the voice, but the animal that had been awoken remembered the pain, and it sent a flare of mistrust through her body that warned her to stay still, and to stay silent.
The sound of the lock twisting open came before the door swept open, and again the voice spoke, this time the question far more evident in their tone as their eyes caught sight of nothing. She watched feet pass by her hiding place, pausing every now and then and turning this way and that as they sought for her. Still she did not move, holding her breath and willing her heart to stop beating lest the rapid pounding in her chest somehow give away her position. She had taken great effort in situating herself in the very middle of the bed against the wall, and she was glad for the absurdly large size of the thing as it left her with plenty of room to be out of reach of most adults. The feet on her immediate left however were small and clad in velvet slippers, and she felt a pang of fear as she wondered if this person was small enough to slide under the bed to capture her if they were inclined to do so.
She remembered those callused fingers that had gripped her hair and yanked her head back, and the left side of her face still throbbed dully with the bruise that had been raised across her cheek and towards her ear. She still remembered the sound her brother had made when he had been struck so hard his feet had left the ground, and the sickening way he had collapsed in the dirt as his consciousness left him when he'd fought for her. The thought of it happening again, or of worse to befall her if she was found made her cringe and shrink in on herself, and her feet touched cold stone behind her as a strangled noise of pain, fear, and despair escaped her despite her best efforts. To her utter horror she watched the feet freeze at the sound before slowly turning in her direction, and she had to bite down hard on her tongue to stop herself from crying out as a hand joined the feet when the intruder knelt down to peek down underneath the bed to see her.
Curious wine-coloured eyes fixed on her from the other end of the bed, framed by long, bouncy lavender-coloured curls, and the look of complete shock on the pretty face gave her momentary pause from her fright. It was an older girl clad in an ebony nightgown and shawl, but to her immediate relief she knew this girl could not squeeze under the bed like she could. She was too old and tall, and if she gave chase, the younger of the two was confident in her ability to get loose and escape before she was caught. However, all and any thoughts of running had fled her mind as she absorbed that she had been found, and despite her best efforts, another strangled sob escaped her gritted teeth and forced her to draw back as far as she possibly could.
Tiny hands shoved at the ground, pushing her further against the wall until her helplessly twisted limbs cried out for reprieve, but she paid no mind to the discomfort. If she could get further away than she would do so no matter the consequence. Every single inch was a precious amount to put between her and the newcomer, no matter how young she was. The blood flowed faster down her chin and splattered onto the ground at her renewed struggling, and she heard the older girl crying out in surprise at the sight of the crimson liquid staining her face. The sound halted her movement, her eyes narrowed as she swung her head around again to get a good look at the still and unmoving form on her left, and the sight of her face again startled her into momentary stillness.
Those wide, deep, rich wine-shaded eyes were stricken, and her skin, which had once been a creamy sort of complexion that spoke of health and natural beauty, had suddenly grown as white as parchment. She had a hand to her mouth, and the look of utter shock on her expression gave the younger girl pause. Then she was laying flat on her stomach to get a better look at her, moving ever so slightly so she could extend a hand forward, and without hesitation, the younger girl hissed in warning and hunched as far away from her as she could physically manage in her cramped space. Hands were keen to hurt, and she would not go into the open unless dragged forcibly again. Even then, she would use her own as weapons if she was made to leave her place of safety, and no amount of shocked or kind eyes would make her go if she had a say in it.
"I'm not going to hurt you! Please stop moving, you're just going to hurt yourself more! It's okay! I'm a friend!"
The words were spoken in a hoarse voice, made tight with concern, pity, and fright, but their meanings were lost on her as she reached the physical limits of her withdrawal. Her eyes never left that beseeching face, but she only regarded her with suspicion, anger, and fright in her own. She was aware that they held no malice, even as far gone as she was she could differentiate between a voice risen in fury and one in fear, but she couldn't find the strength of will or the soundness of mind to care. Too much of her own pain and panic had flared up again, and the sight of that extended hand was far too much for her. She needed to get far away from it before it reached too close, and as if she sensed what was causing her the upset, the older girl drew suddenly her hand back and away to her side.
The sudden absence of that hand calmed her somewhat, and she stilled her movements even though her body remained tense. The older of the two seemed to sigh with relief, and she remained where she was on the cold floor, watching her closely even though she did not try to move forward. Instead she began to speak again, her voice calm, soothing and patient, and the lilt of her unfamiliar accent made her voice almost musical after the rough and gruffer tones of the men she had been surrounded with beforehand, "It's okay now, I promise... I'm not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe here. You don't have to be afraid."
The older girl continued to speak for what felt like forever, repeating gentle and earnest words, promising safety and denying her fright, and she never once made the attempt to extend her hand again to her. She kept still where she was, sensing that any advance on her part would be a horrible mistake, and despite herself, the younger of the two began to feel her tense muscles relaxing in the face of such patience. Every once and awhile words would fail the older girl, and instead she would just lay where she was on her stomach, humming a tune and holding that fierce and unblinking gaze that never left her face with a mixture of bravery, sympathy and a soul-searing kindness that seemed completely and utterly foreign yet oddly familiar.
"I'm Camilla."
The introduction came two full hours after their eyes had first met, and with a calm and sweet smile, the newly-named girl offered her a polite nod of greeting. The other did not return it, but there was a flicker of understanding in those ruby eyes that continued to stare at her, and Camilla was not unduly bothered by the lack of a physical reaction. Her tension had all but faded away now, and she lay as prone on her stomach as Camilla herself was, not seeming to be bothered by the dried blood on her cheek, under her nails, or the discomfort of the cold stone on her skin. Her own nightgown was torn now in several places from her desperate escape under the bed, but like everything else, it only seemed to be an odd footnote in the back of her head. She was more concerned with the fact that she was not alone, and all of her focus was saved expressly for the intruder in front of her.
The thought hurt Camilla in ways she had not been prepared for, and had not expected to feel. She had seen many children before, had grown used to sights of others that she had been told were in one way or another her siblings, yet this little girl was different. The handful of girls and boys she had been told in a cold and dismissive voice were her rivals or enemies or targets, were not like the creature she was facing now. And those days of blood and cruelty and paranoia were supposed to be over now with the succession now settled and the number now whittled down to four. The girl hiding under the bed brought her heart to her young half-brother and sister, and unbidden, she felt that pull of longing and affection coming to her once more and demanding she lay claim on a sibling she had never been permitted to have when her mother had ruled her life with an iron fist.
Strange ruby eyes held her gaze unflinchingly, studying her warily and with more than a trace of animalistic appraisal, and Camilla felt herself flinch as she mentally replaced that ruby gaze with Elise's violet and Leon's burgundy. The girl was older than both of her half-siblings, though by how much Camilla could admittedly not tell, but they were certainly close enough that the comparison was no less painful. The eyes that were fixed on her were bewitching in their sharpness and exotic colour, matching well with the rest of her physical appearance as Camilla took her in with patient, tempered interest.
Underneath the line of dried blood and the ugly bruise on her left cheek, the girl's skin was pale and relatively unblemished, proof that her complexion was naturally quite fair rather than a product of her fright. Her form was willowy and thin, but Camilla didn't allow that to make her forget that to squeeze herself so far back she had to possess at least a fair measure of strength and flexibility. She wore her hair loose and flowing, the shade bright platinum and purer than the gold that her elder brother Marx possessed, but both her strange colour of eyes and hair did nothing to match her most startling feature. Her ears tapered off to a sharpened point at the crest, peeking through her unruly curls and drawing her attention despite herself, and Camilla murmured softly, unable to help herself from repeating it even if the words would do nothing, "You're really pretty."
Camilla admitted to having no idea whether or not her words were reaching to the girl huddled up underneath the bed, but she trusted her instincts which told her not to give up speaking just yet even if there was a language barrier between them. It was like her experience with an ill-natured wyvern, a calm voice and a pleasant demeanour could tame an unruly beast if one had patience, and though she had never expected such practise to hold true to a human, a little girl no less, she trusted her lessons without question. She had already seen fruit borne of it, as the tense and huddled posture the child had possessed before had relaxed, and the mistrust in those sharp ruby eyes had begun to soften if only just a little.
Slowly, painfully, the girl in front of her stretched her muscles, and the movement brought her an inch away from the wall and towards her. She froze immediately as she realized her attempt to soothe the pain in her body accidentally brought her away from her refuge, and worry sharpened the lines of her young face as she looked back from the wall and then to the older girl who had held her breath the moment she had felt the distance close by that hair's breadth. Uncertainty and fear came back into her face, her eyes no longer holding anger or suspicion, and Camilla took complete advantage of the indecision as she spoke again, "Won't you come out? It can't be comfortable under there. Why don't you come out and into the open with me?"
Ruby eyes narrowed again, and the response was enough to answer the question Camilla had been pondering about whether or not any of her words were actually understood. Then the younger girl was swallowing noisily, and tears began to crest again in the corners of her eyes as she made a tiny sound of frustration and despair. Her body was aching, every inch of her craved open air even though she feared it desperately, but Camilla had made no threatening moves in the past two and a half hours, and she couldn't help but want to trust that pretty older girl who had spent so much time on her stomach with her, talking and humming softly to her without ever showing an ounce of impatience or displeasure.
For the first time Camilla made to move, and the girl flinched back instinctively at the motion until she realized the older girl was drawing back rather than forward. The lavender-haired girl offered a smile of reassurance, and she scooted backwards and to the side, revealing a clear path forward without her obstruction and out of her reach. The platinum-haired youth stared at her in surprise, understanding at once what she was being given but having mixed desire to take it, and Camilla continued in that same gentle, soothing and coaxing tone that she knew would do more than anything else, "It's okay... I promise I won't move from here while you come out... or I could go across the room if that would make you feel better? Whatever you like. I don't mind. I just want you to come out and get comfortable. You don't need to worry about me. I promise I won't hurt you."
To her complete and utter surprise, she received the tiniest nod in answer to her words, and then the little girl began to inch forward on her stomach. Her movements were slow and ginger, proof of pain that wasn't just born of her long stint underneath the bed, and Camilla's lips pressed together into a tight frown as she wondered angrily who had dared to hurt her. Though the older girl had entered the room with a sort of dull understanding that she was meeting another sibling her father claimed from one concubine or another, she hadn't expected such a fierce parcel of emotions to take root so quickly and open up a new part of her heart for her to claim as easily as Leon or Elise had.
The little girl was hurt, frightened, and sorely in need of comfort, and Camilla wanted dearly to do everything and anything she could to soothe her. Not once had she felt a twinge of impatience or anger when she had met such a display of honest terror when she'd first seen her, and though she had many more questions than she had answers, she trusted her instincts over anything else. She needed her calm patience and warm acceptance, and if that would help get her out from under the bed so her wounds could be treated, so her tears could be dried, then Camilla had already vowed to herself that she would wait for years to do so. She admitted much of her emotions were stirred by pity, she didn't want to imagine what horror had turned such a pretty young thing into a feral creature who trusted no one and expected hurt, but already she was ready to exact vengeance for her, and dare anyone else to try to do so twice.
Camilla waited patiently, holding her breath each time she stopped in her advance and exhaling with relief when she began again. She was moving at a crawl, hesitant and hyper aware of every noise, every movement, and she was making absolutely no effort to pick up her pace in case she had need to retreat abruptly. As she reached the halfway point, more light reached her face to reveal the extent of the bruising marring her cheek, and the older girl sucked in a breath of disgust and anger at the sight. It was a large wound, reaching back to her ear and streaking out across her cheek towards the curve of her lips, and the size told Camilla at once that a grown man had inflicted it on her, and had done so without checking himself.
Such wounds were familiar to the Nohrian princess, but the knowledge that she possessed did not deaden her sickness at the sight of it. The girl in front of her was so small and frail that such physical attacks would never be necessary to earn her obedience, but it was obvious whoever had cared for her before was not a student of patience, or empathy. Camilla could only force a lid down over her instinctive loathing and remind herself that she needed to discipline her emotions again lest the girl before her sense them and react negatively to her. 'Small wonder she's so scared... Who wouldn't be, after being treated so cruelly...?'
The girl suddenly tensed, ruby eyes widening and her entire body seizing up, and before Camilla could think to question her fear, a knock on the door broke the silence and sent the younger girl skittering back to the wall without a moment of hesitation. Pounding her fist angrily into the stone floor as the fair-haired girl retreated back through all the ground she had gained, Camilla let fly a curse that would have earned her quite the slap across the face had any adult been present to hear her use such ugly language. She shot to her feet as the door opened, whirling on it without an ounce of mercy as her temper flared and was promptly unleashed on her elder half-brother as he stepped in with a bemused look on his face when he realized she had been the source of the cursing he heard, "Damn you, Marx! Damn you and your timing! What in the name of the gods sent you here at such a moment?!"
"Wh-What are you-" The crown prince recoiled from her anger immediately, drawing back even as she shoved him rudely aside to shut the door hard and lock it behind him. His burgundy eyes widened at her uncharacteristic rage, and for a moment he wasn't entirely sure if who now stood in front of him was truly his younger half-sister. The gentle and soft-spoken creature he knew had seemed to disappear, revealing a girl with fiery eyes and a ferocious scowl that instantly made him wish he had his sword and shield present. He stood where she had shoved him, not daring to make a move to advance or retreat as she stood in a pique in front of him, body quivering so with righteous anger that even her long, unbound lavender curls were trembling, and he asked the only question he could think of in the midst of his shock, "Where did you learn to curse like that?"
"What does it matter? You scared her!" Camilla knew full well her words made no sense to him, Marx's raised eyebrows spoke volumes, but for the moment she didn't have room in her heart for pity for him. There was only frustration and anger that all of her hard work had been undone by his unexpected arrival, and her heart ached fiercely for that frightened little thing under the bed who had instantly decided to retreat again when she had realized another intruder was about to encroach on her space. Shaking her head and dismissing him, she returned to the bed and knelt down, not caring for his surprise or confusion, and as she searched for the girl again, she wasn't prepared for what she would see when she found her.
The ruby eyes she had expected to see filled with rage, mistrust, and fear again were now cloudy with tears, and her frail little form was wracked with suppressed sobs. She had both hands to her mouth now, stifling them as best she could as one or two crystalline droplets made their way down her reddened cheeks, and Camilla felt her heart break as she understood what little trust she had earned from her hadn't been broken, but had instead lowered her defences enough to reveal the real depths of her terror. Shaking her head and aching to reach out for her but fearing what reaction her movements would earn, Camilla instead began to speak again, fighting to soften her voice from her anger so the girl would have no need to worry, "Oh, love, it's okay... It's okay, no one here is going to hurt you. You don't need to be afraid... It's just my older brother, Marx. He's a friend. You can trust him, too. I promise that it's all right... There's no need to cry..."
Marx's mind worked quickly as he listened to her soft, coaxing speech, and though his curiosity reared its head, he fought hard to keep it down. He had come to join her in meeting the newest addition to his siblings, had been told that Camilla had already gone ahead of him, and there was no other explanation for who she was speaking to, and why. The idea of her hiding under the bed confused him greatly, but from Camilla's outburst earlier, he could guess that she had been working quite some time to coax her out, and his arrival had undermined her efforts greatly. Flinching guiltily for ruining her hard work, he kept his voice quiet and level, not wanting to further startle the young girl he had been prepared to meet as a sister, "How long have they been under there?"
"She was there when I arrived, and I don't doubt for a second she's been hiding ever since she had a chance to be alone. It could have been for hours now." Camilla answered him just as calmly and quietly as he had spoken, and she was sharply aware of the effect Marx had on the frightened child under the bed. His voice made her flinch, and she swung her head about to look for the source and focused intensely on it, but there was no anger or mistrust in her expression now. There was only fear, a deep, instinctual terror that Camilla ached to soothe, and she continued hoarsely as she sensed Marx's desire to approach and see her for himself, "She's terrified, Marx... I've spent the last little while trying to get her to trust me, and she was just on her way out when you came in. I don't know if she'll come out now."
"I can stand guard if that will help." Marx suggested, but from the way Camilla refused to move from where she now was lying again on the floor, he had a feeling that she would deny his leaving. The girl would only grow suspicious if he left as suddenly as he came, and he had a feeling Camilla was completely aware of that. Shaking his head with frustration, he forced himself to remain as still as possible as he sensed sharp eyes watching his feet in case he dared to move in any direction. He ran an errant hand through his golden curls, scowling deeply as he wondered what had happened to leave his newest sibling so utterly terrified of strangers, "Has she spoken to you...?"
"No. She understands me well enough, I know that, but she hasn't said a word. She's traumatized. If you could see her right now, you'd understand why." Camilla remarked with no small hint of anger or bitterness, but she took in a deep and soothing sigh as she knew her tone would only further worry the girl who was once again curled up to the wall and refusing to move as the conversation continued between the two older children. It took great effort to soften her tone once more but she made do, reminding herself that her mission to get the child out from under the bed to comfort, treat and soothe had not changed as she continued on for him, "Someone hurt her before she came here. She has a lovely bruise on the left side of her face, and she's half wild with fear... I tried to extend my hand to her earlier, and she hissed at me. I don't even know her name."
"Her name is Eve... Or at least, that's what Father said her name was when he sent me here to introduce myself. Evelyn or Eve." Marx supplied helpfully, and from the sudden twitch Camilla made, he hoped that the information would do some good. She tensed up for a moment on the floor, then after what seemed like forever, the hand closest to him and hidden behind her back motioned for him to relax himself. He did so at once, lowering himself awkwardly but slowly to the floor to sit on the cold stone, and Camilla spared him a quick glance over her shoulder as his action did something to the newly-named girl beneath the bed. She looked apologetic now, and he nodded silently, accepting her contrition and telling her wordlessly that he had no blame to lay for her former outburst now that he understood the situation at hand.
"Eve... That's a really pretty name. I like that name. It suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl." Camilla murmured softly, rolling and tasting the word on her tongue with a mixture of interest and affection. It was nice to have a name to put to the girl, and she had to admit the exotic sounding moniker matched well with the rest of her. Eve twitched at the use of it, eyes widening as if it had been the first time she had been addressed with it since her arrival there, and sensing that it would help speed up the process of earning her trust again, Camilla repeated herself thoughtfully, "Eve, Eve, Eve... Yes, I really do like that. Will you come out again, Eve...? I promise Marx isn't a threat to you, and he'll sit by the wall and behave himself if you join us. We won't be interrupted again, and you'll be perfectly safe here. I promise."
Eve's tense body proved her desire for movement again, but she couldn't stop herself from looking out across the bed's length to those folded legs that sat by the wall. She didn't trust the newcomer no matter how far away he sat, but Camilla's softly repeated promises were wearing on her distrust and soothing that upset she so desperately wanted gone. Her voice was gentle and coaxing, reminding her of a pair of warm arms and a similar voice that had once held her through similar terrors, though such frights had never lasted this long, or had ever hurt so much as the one she was currently enduring. She sniffled loudly, unable to help it as every fibre of her being craved freedom from her current position, and with a frightened little nod, she began to move forward again.
Withdrawing obediently to give her room to advance, Camilla cast a furtive look over her shoulder at her brother to ensure he stayed where he was before returning her gaze back to Eve. She moved slower than before, cautious and frightened and uncertain, but she was still moving, and the knowledge that she was being relied upon to keep her word was both heady and terrifying all on its own. The half-feral little girl was putting all of her faith in her, and for a brief instant, Camilla doubted that she was up to the task. It wasn't as if she had been charged with her welfare, and princess though she was, she wasn't her father and her orders meant nothing against his word. If he demanded her abuse again, if he had been the cause of her abuse, she could not protect her any more than she could protect herself, Leon, or Elise.
Then those ruby eyes fixed on her wine-coloured ones, and the implicit trust in them wiped away her doubt. For a brief moment in time, Camilla felt empowered by the weight of the burden she'd taken so thoughtlessly on her shoulders. It was the same sort of strength she took from Elise when her little half-sister was clinging to her waist and laughing with glee at an embrace, or when Leon caught the sleeve of her nightgown and begged her for one more story to be read to him before he was put to sleep. She was an elder sister, and she would stake all that she had to give to protect her siblings no matter who or what the threat was. It was in her blood to do so, and to deny that instinct was impossible.
"That's it, Eve... It's okay..." Camilla murmured encouragingly, and as Eve again passed the halfway point to open air, Camilla scooted further back and away from the bed. She could sense Marx's impatience and excitement and concern even though he sat across the room, and his emotions were infectious as she held her breath at the sound of the little form easing its way across stone and under wood and metal. Then a pair of tiny hands were peeking out from underneath the bed, and both sister and brother inhaled sharply at the sight of pale skin, and broken and bloody fingernails. Her hands were just like the rest of her, small, delicate and battered, but they were strong as they hauled her body forward and out from under the bed in one jerky movement.
Marx almost forgot himself at the sight of her pulling herself gingerly, hesitantly out from under the bed. Camilla hadn't been embellishing her explanation of her state, and he wanted to let fly a curse of his own as he spotted the ugly darkening mark that had made its claim on the left side of Eve's face. The rest of her body was scuffed and nicked in numerous places, proof of her desperate flight under the bed, and he had to admire her powerful survival instinct despite her frail form. Her long hair flowed loose and heavy around her shoulders, and her sharp ruby eyes flickered from thing to thing and face to face as if she was taking it all in for the first time. Marx found himself momentarily speechless as he took her in, admiring her from afar and wondering at the sudden pressure in his chest as he agreed silently with Camilla's assessment on her features. Underneath her wounds, underneath her fear and her upset and her strange colouring... she was exceptionally pretty.
Camilla held her breath as she watched Eve take furtive glances about herself, and she drew her knees to her chest and rested her back against the frame of her bed. She was quivering uncontrollably, further proof that even though she wanted to be out and had come into the open of her own volition that she was still terrified of now being within arm's reach of these two strangers. Steeling herself for whatever would come, and glad beyond words that Marx was keeping still and silent and unassuming by the wall, Camilla shrugged from her shawl with exaggerated slowness before reaching carefully, tentatively, to offer it to the quivering girl by the bed, "Here... You must be cold with your nightgown all torn up like that..."
Eve blinked, staring at the outstretched hand and the thin, ebony garment that she was being offered as if she had never seen such a thing before. She glanced to herself, taking in the rips and the nicks in the pale silver fabric she had been dressed in, but the concept of cold seemed distant and far to her after spending so much time with her bare skin resting on stone. Instead her interest was drawn by Camilla's face again, and she studied the open expression with a hint of wonder, a hint of hope, as the shawl was set down to the floor. Her arm remained in the air, hand extended and palm up, and then with a small, tender little smile, Camilla opened her other in a silent but still somehow loud offer of an embrace.
The reaction was instantaneous, and with later thought, Marx wondered who was the most shocked by it, the girl herself, Camilla, or him when Eve bolted from where she sat. It was a mad scramble to cross the foot of space between the two girls, and Camilla fought for balance as Eve leapt into her arms with shocking speed and hugged her with everything she had. Her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, squeezing as if like to crush her, but if she was in pain Camilla showed absolutely no sign. Instead her arms moved to return the hold, cradling the much smaller girl in her lap with an expression that was pure and warm with love as Eve buried her face in her long lavender hair and began to weep.
"Shh... Shh, now, it's all right..." Camilla whispered against her tapered ear, hugging tight and refusing to slacken her arms as Eve sobbed unashamedly into her neck. Her tears flowed fast and free down her cheeks, one now red with shame while the other hid behind a quickly blackening bruise, but Camilla didn't mind it as she adjusted herself to better hold the younger girl close. Every ounce of her yearned to give comfort to this sobbing child, and she didn't deny it for a moment as Eve clung to her with all the strength she had in her battered and exhausted body. "I've got you..."
Marx held his tongue, watching closely as Eve curled herself as close as she possibly could into Camilla's embrace. She held her with all the patience and care as a mother would, running a soothing hand down her hair and rubbing her back as Eve continued to weep out all of her fear and her pain. He had seen Camilla comfort Elise so when her mother had passed away from illness, and he could not help but wonder at how easily his half-sister managed to provide such needed care for her younger siblings without ever once seeming to doubt her ability to do so. Such displays made him feel awkward and oafish, but as he watched Eve clutch tightly to Camilla, he admitted wholeheartedly that he wished he could do as Camilla could and provide comfort and acceptance to those who needed it so much.
Sobs began to taper off to sniffles as Camilla sat with the girl in her lap, and Camilla sighed with a mixture of relief and breathlessness as those tightly clutching arms about her waist began to slacken, too. She hadn't expected such strength from such a small girl, and she wondered errantly if she would bruise later after being held so desperately. Eve kept her face buried in her hair even as her breathing began to settle, and the older girl brushed a loving hand through her long curls before she murmured comfortingly into it, "There, you see...? It's going to be okay... I'm not going to let anything happen to you again. You're safe with me."
Eve pulled away, her movements slow and stiff, and she shrank in on herself with a mixture of shyness and shame as the odd sniffle and hasty little inhale made her jerk unexpectedly. Camilla continued to smile at her even though her own wine-coloured eyes were oddly shiny with her own unshed tears born of sympathy, and Eve averted her gaze awkwardly as the blush grew hotter on her cheeks. Laughing gently at the sudden display of demureness, Camilla reached to stroke her hair again, then carefully she lifted her chin and began to brush away the tears on the right side of her face, "You look even cuter when you're shy... but don't worry... There's no reason for you to feel that way in front of me. We're sisters now. I'll take good care of you, Eve."
"I want my brother."
Both Camilla and Marx jumped at the sudden and completely unexpected display of speech. Eve's voice, much like the rest of her, was soft, small, and strange. Neither of the older two present could place that odd accent, but if she seemed to notice that it had shocked them, she didn't act on it. Instead her eyes fastened on Camilla's face, searching it intently as her head tilted a little to the side in obvious thought. The word "sisters" seemed to do something to her, reaching deep within her frail little body and tugging at something dear, and the expression of heartache on her face made both Camilla and Marx pause. She repeated herself, voice hoarse and strained from crying and disuse and the faintest hint of a question, "I... I want my brother... Where is my brother? Where's Aidan?"
"Brother?" Camilla blinked in confusion, looking from the small, curled up girl in her lap to Marx, who was viewing Eve with concerned, confused eyes of his own. To her knowledge the little girl had not met Leon, and she wondered with a painful squeeze if the family she had come from before her father had found her suitable had included other bastard children that had not been recognized as she had. Tightening her hold protectively about her at the very idea, Camilla took in a breath, asking a question she wasn't entirely sure she wanted answered of her brother, "Marx, do you know anything about this?"
"I... I know that there were two of them, but in the confusion..." Marx began helplessly, but his words failed him as those wide, tear-filled ruby eyes gazed at him over Camilla's arms and demanded knowledge that he simply did not have to give to her. Eve looked despairingly lost without the twin she had been separated from, and Marx felt an ugly clench of anger for whoever had designed to keep the two children apart when it was so obvious that she needed his presence so badly. He shook his head slowly, regretfully, and spoke instead to Eve as two large tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her reddened and bruised cheeks, "I'm sorry... I don't know where he... Where Aidan is. Father didn't tell me if he would be here."
Eve bit her lip hard, and that feeling of loss, of complete and utter disorientation pulled hard at her again. Even if the arms currently wrapped around her were warm and comforting, they were not the familiar arms of her brother, and the absence of him was like the loss of a limb. She could tell that the boy in front of her was telling the truth of not knowing where her precious twin was, and the girl who held her trusted him, which was enough for her for the moment... Though she was not sure if the aching would ever subside without her brother there to soothe it.
"It's all right, Eve. We'll figure things out soon enough..." Camilla promised her softly, and Eve gave no answer except to duck her head into her hair and snuggle into it as the need for comfort won out. Her crying had ceased for the time being, leaving her exhausted and shaken, and Camilla was tender with her as she cradled her close, hating herself for being unable to give her any more than a warm embrace and words of comfort that she couldn't be sure she could deliver on. She was relieved however to see Marx nodding behind her, giving her some hope that the first prince would do whatever he could to solve the mystery, and it allowed her to return her attention to the girl's health before her questions, "Let's get you onto the bed and settled in, okay...? You look like you could use a good rest before any more excitement..."
Eve allowed herself to be stood up, though her legs shook from the disuse and caused her to stumble against the taller girl for balance. Camilla was quick to catch her and steady her however, something that made Eve offer her a small, sheepish smile as she rested in a protective hold that soothed her better than those hours of calm words ever could. The discarded shawl from the floor found its way around her shoulders with a deft flick of the wrist, and Eve glanced longingly towards the plush mattress behind her, proof that the thought of a good, long sleep wrapped in thick blankets was exactly what she wanted.
She hesitated though even as Camilla tugged just a little bit on her arm to move her forward. Eve swallowed down hard before reaching tentatively to settle her free hand on top of the older girl's, and she squeezed it very gently, timid and sheepish before she was lowering her gaze to her bare feet and asking shyly, "Will you... stay with me...?"
Blinking at the request she hadn't expected, and feeling her heart throb painfully as she realized just how much this girl actually did need her if she was willing to make it, Camilla couldn't answer her right away. She hadn't expected to be asked to stay, but she knew instinctively that if she was permitted, then she wanted to remain with her for as long as she possibly could. She glanced over her shoulder at Marx, biting her lower lip as her desires made their way plainly onto her face, but she wouldn't dare agree if she would be torn away from her later by her father. Knowing he could ask for her and make a case on her behalf, she met his gaze before she called hopefully, "Marx?"
"I'll speak to Father." Marx promised with a firm nod, and the sheer relief in Camilla's eyes brought a tiny smile to his face. He watched Eve clutch herself to Camilla's side, not entirely understanding what was being spoken about but proving she was desperate not to be separated from the older girl if it could be helped, and he nodded again without thinking. He didn't want them separated either, not after he had seen the way she cried so brokenly for comfort that Camilla had so easily given, and that thought drove him to speak again, "She needs you right now, and after all the trouble it was to get her out from under the bed, it's wiser for you to stay with her than to leave. She'll be less of a handful with you looking after her. I'll make a case for you, and in the meantime, I'll make sure the two of you aren't disturbed."
"You're the best, Marx." Camilla released Eve for a moment, swept across the room hastily, and pulled the young prince into a firm hug of his own. The older boy jumped at the unexpected embrace, but he returned it nonetheless and without hesitation. She kissed his cheek gratefully before she returned back to the girl waiting at the bedside, and she wasn't surprised to see her watching them with a mixture of rampant curiosity and the more than a small hint of want. Smiling at the unabashed desire, Camilla rewarded her with a similar kiss to her forehead before she answered the previous question she had been asked honestly, "Yes. I'll stay with you."
For the first time since she had been stolen away from all that she had known and separated from Aidan, Eve was aware of a sense of peace coming in to wipe away the memories of fear and hurt that had been drowning her. Camilla's hand on her shoulder was loving and reassuring, and the look in her eyes gave her hope that all those sweetly whispered promises could be kept, would be kept, and that she was finally safe again. It was all still so strange, and more than a great deal of her was still terrified out of her wits, but when she looked to this girl who claimed herself as her sister, and the slightly smiling boy at the far end of the room who she still couldn't look at without her heart doing a rapid dance, she let herself relax. With them, maybe, it was possible that all the hurt she had experienced already was the last... and she had found home.
AN:
My first real (published) piece of FE:F fanfiction... and it will be a two-parter! (AND ALSO MY FIFTIETH PUBLICATION ON THIS WEBSITE! EVERYBODY CRACK THE CHAMPAGNE!) I have finally finished all three routes of the game, and with the game finished, I now feel comfortable in trying my hand at fanfiction, though it might take me awhile to get back into the swing of things. I've been pretty distant from writing for awhile, and my muse is certainly rusty... but I do have a plethora of ideas for this new world Fates has presented us, and I do definitely intend to flood the world with everything I have up my sleeve. Even if it takes forever for me to actually write it all. XD
Anyway! So, this is Eve's introduction. Aidan's introduction will come soon after as a connection to this piece... and yes, I have decided to go the old and tired route of making my two Kamuis, both female and male, fraternal twins. (I have cheekily named them the Twilight Twins. I'm a bit of a doorknob.) I'm not about to go into a long, complicated excuse for why I decided to do this, as it simply comes down to the fact that I fashioned them from the beginning as twins, and it was easier on me, and more fun with my headcanons, to have two characters playing off of each other rather than one on their own... and I'm going to keep it. Cail and Skye were both fun in their own ways, but I'm hoping Eve and Aidan give me a new dynamic to work with, and we shall see if it works well or not as I get more into it.
Just for future reference... I am going to be using most of the Japanese names and terms for my fanfiction, and I'm sure you've already noticed with Leon and Marx... Again, I just prefer to use these names, so I apologize in advance if this confuses or irritates anyone as I continue working. I just was too used to the Japanese names that the localization kind of threw me for a loop. Too many months of watching the release up to the countdown.
Also for future reference, these are how my babies line up. Both Aidan and Eve are the default, taller models of Kamui's body types. Aidan has narrowed eyes in comparison to Eve who completely retains the default look, but otherwise they're not changed a bit as I'm both boring and kind of partial to the default models. Both also went for the calmer/mature voice types. Eve's boon is speed, and her bane is her health, as will be explored in future fanfics... While Aidan's boon is his strength, and his bane is luck, which is also going to be explored in later fics... And their talents are a secret. But I will hint that mounts are involved, so take a guess on their alternate classes if you feel lucky!
So this is my first foray into Fates, and no, I have not forgotten Awakening, and I will do what I can for POTW as I continue to jog along. Please tell me how I'm doing, what you hope to see from me (besides couples, because I've already got those solidified, XD) and I hope to see you guys again very soon with Aidan's half of his introduction! Please drop me a review if you feel the need, and happy reading!
Mood: Pleased.
Listening To: "Free Bird" - Lynard Skynard
~ Sky