2
King Harrow paced his office manically, looking haggard. Deep, dark bags shadowed the underside of his eyes and his normal pristine crimson tunic was wrinkled and dirtied. His hair had mostly fallen out of the updo and was tousled from all the times he had carded his hair through the braids. He did not wear his crown.
His office was a mess, papers that he hadn't bothered to read and considered stacked high on his desk and some of the piles had listed over to splay onto the floor. But frankly, Harrow wasn't really interested in crop finances and building requests within his city. All of those mundane kingly duties had been pushed to the side in the wake of the tragedy that had happened and Viren had offered to take care of the more urgent matters whilst Harrow organized search parties and worked with his guards to figure out what had exactly happened.
A hesitant knock at his door halted his step and the king took a moment to straighten his tunic before calling out a short "Come in.".
The door creaked open as three kingsguard stepped in, "Captain," Harrow greeted, voice hoarse.
"Your Majesty," the captain responded with a curt bow, he was an older man with a full beard and always reminded the king of a bear.
His tight expression was answer enough but Harrow had to ask anyway, "Did you find anything?" his voice was desperate, almost begging the captain to tell him what he wanted to hear.
The taller man sighed and shook his head regretfully, '"No, my lord. We have found no trace; witnesses have come forth claiming to have seen a boy of the… prince's description running out of the palace. The hounds have tracked his scent to the East River but from there his scent ends. We… we suspect he might have fallen in."
"Then search along the river!" Harrow snapped, pulling back his shoulders as frustration boiled over within him. "Double the search party, beat the dogs until they find his scent, I don't care, just find my son!" The two guards on either side of the captain cringe at his town, cowering down like beaten dogs. Harrow is known for his patience and kind heart and this is the first time the younger guards have heard him so angry and the two subtly step behind the captain who has his head bowed as he takes the brunt of Harrow's frustration.
Harrow cannot find it within himself to care. He was far past caring. It had been four days since Callum had gone missing. Each moment that passed was another moment his son was not safe within the castle walls. The very thought made his heart twist agonizingly.
"You are dismissed, Captain." he finally gritted out. The burly man nodded and bowed before swiftly leaving, the two guards behind him scurrying out like Harrow was going to kick their asses on the way out.
The moment the door clicked shut Harrow snarled in frustration, sweeping his arms across his desk, sending books and countless documents, papers, and scrolls flying and crashing to the ground. He heard the distinct sound of something glass-like shattering on the floor but didn't care. Running a hand through his hair the king practically collapsed into his chair with a deep sigh, burying the palms of his heels into his eyes and trying to swallow the stone in his throat.
Gods, Sarai had given him one job. Look after the boys. And just a few weeks after her death he had managed to break his promise to her. He had lost Callum and was rapidly losing hope on finding him again.
The king was only given a short few minutes to grieve when yet another knock sounded at his door, this one much more panicked. Harrow had barely given permission to enter before a young lanky guard who's armor fits awkwardly practically ran into his office. "Sir, General Amaya is here, she is on her -" but the poor boy wasn't given the chance to finish as an imposing figure stalks past him and practically shoves the lanky boy to the side.
Amaya storms into his office, Commander Gren a step behind her. "Where. Is. He?" the general signs, her face stormy and if Harrow was a lesser man he would have been cowering under her fiery gaze. Gren swiftly translates, his voice nervous. The boy has only just been assigned as Amaya's translator if he is not mistaken, but Harrow does not need him to understand his sister in law at that moment. Her words are very clear even with Harrow's limited knowledge of sign.
"Amaya…" Harrow sighed, his voice tired.
Her gaze flickers to his mouth a moment as she reads his speech but does not allow him to explain as she stalks closer like with an aura that is more like a jungle cat than a general. "Where is Callum?" she demands, her hand movements sharp and her face hard as stone.
"I don't know!" Harrow snaps, Amaya does not look impressed and seems to be enraged by his answer, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
The dark-haired general finally comes to a stop directly in front of him, Gren rounding to the side so he could better see her hands. She casts a judgemental look at the mess Harrow had made of his office but instead of mentioning it she gets straight to business, "Where was the last place he was seen?" she demanded, Gren swiftly translating as she signs.
"We managed to track him to the East River. We… we think he might have fallen in." Harrow says. He is vaguely aware of the redhead commander signing his words to the general, he looks uncomfortable.
Amaya bares her teeth at him, "Why was he there alone?"
"I don't know," the king admits. "Some people have come forward claiming to have seen him walking by himself out of the palace. He was alone." the general's gaze flickers to Gren as the boy signs for her.
"He could've been meeting with someone then," Amaya almost seems to growl as she gesticulates her last sign with a harsh twist of her wrist.
"Are you suggesting he was… what? Kidnapped?"
"It is a possibility we cannot rule out," Amaya insists. "Someone in the palace could have manipulated him, had him meet with them outside of the city. Callum is not stupid but he is just a child, I hate to think he would fall for something like that but we must investigate all possibilities if we are going to find him. It could've been someone he trusts, have you questioned all of the staff?"
"We have. But have you considered that maybe he was distraught after his mother's death and ran away?" that had been the leading theory thus far. After all, the last time the king had spoken to his stepson the boy had been throwing a tantrum; screaming at Harrow to leave him alone and that he wanted to go back home. The child's words had been harsh but truthfully Harrow had just been glad that the boy was showing emotion and actually talking to him, even if it had been in anger and frustration . The captain of the guard theorized Callum might have tried to run away after his outburst, with his emotions riding so high it was a very real possibility.
For the first few weeks after Sarai's death, Callum had been near catonic. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't talk. All he would do was lay numbly in bed, only getting out of bed when Harrow would silently usher him up and even then he would just follow numbly wherever Harrow lead. His eyes looked dead and it was like a knife in the king's chest every time he looked the child in the eye. But the worst was when Callum would forget. When he would forget for just a moment that his mother was gone and he would smile or laugh and Harrow would finally feel hope only for it all to come crashing down when the small boy would flinch as he was brutally reminded of the tragedy and he would shrink back into his shell. It was like he was losing his son over and over again and Harrow did not know how to fix it because he wasn't doing any better than Callum in dealing with the loss of Sarai.
"Callum would not just run away, he isn't like that." Amaya insisted, clearly set on the possibility of kidnapping.
Harrow pinched the bridge of his nose with a harsh sigh, "He was going through a lot, he would've been unpredictable. Maybe he wasn't running away, maybe he just wanted to be alone for a while. We don't know, and we have no way of knowing unless we find him."
Amaya glares, "Have the guards been searching along the river?" she asks next.
"Yes, but they have found nothing."
"Give me command of the search." the general demands, dark eyes stormy.
"Amaya…" Harrow tries but quickly clams up as the woman narrows her eyes dangerously. If anyone has a chance of finding Callum it is Amaya and so with a sigh the king grants his sister in law her wish, but before he can go over the details of everything they know so far they are interrupted yet again by another knock on his door.
Harrow lets out a sigh, wishing he could just catch a break but it seems the gods have no mercy to give because a hard-faced older woman steps into his office without being granted entrance. She is Ezran's nursemaid, her curly hair is tied back from her face and she wears a simple dress and dirty apron, her whiskey brown eyes tired and bloodshot. "Prince Ezran is crying for you, my lord." she tells him, casting a curious glance at Amaya and Gren.
"I…" he begins to make an excuse but the other woman interrupts him.
"He has not stopped crying for all of the night and most of the day, your majesty. He needs his father." If he is not mistaken there is an accusatory tone in her voice and if he weren't so exhausted Harrow might have said something about her attitude towards her king. He stiffens at her words and Amaya's furious demeanor softens ever so slightly.
"Go take care of Ezran, I will begin my search for Callum," she tells him, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder and Harrow leans into the contact gratefully. He feels a sudden surge of relief and offers his sister in law a brittle smile which she returns. He sighs as she lets her hand fall back to her side and physically gathers himself before exiting his office.
His two guards swiftly follow a few steps behind him, they are his constant silent shadow and Harrow usually forgets they're even there but right now he is on edge and part of him wants to turn and snap at them to leave him be. He wants to be alone to wallow in grief and regret.
The entire way to his quarters his mind is firmly locked on Callum. On where he is, what happened, if he is safe. And underneath those unrelenting questions is a constant mantra of ' please please please be okay'. He thinks it would be better if only he knew where his son was. The unknown and the constant hope that maybe his guards will run to him any moment exclaiming they have found Calum alive and well is practically killing him. All he wants to do at that moment is to pull the small child to his chest and never let him go, he yearns to see his son again.
He is slowly coming to the realization that there is a very real possibility he will not be able to see his son grow up. It has been four days now. There has been no ransom for the prince, there has been no sign, and hope is quickly running out. If Callum was going to be found they would have found him already, Harrow knows logically. But he can't just give up. He will not. Not until his son is safe or he at least knows how and why the child was taken from him.
The journey to his rooms is shorter than he had hoped. He lets out a shaky breath before pushing open the heavy oak doors and is immediately assaulted by loud raucous wailing. The king cringes at the noise but swiftly makes his way across the room to the crib nestled against the wall.
Pip sits regally on his perch near the window and coos a greeting, the bird has been plucking his feathers since Callum has disappeared and a pile of the bird's feathers lay in a pile underneath the perch. Harrow sighs at the sight but is unsure how to get his companion to stop the habit. It is just a recent development however and hopefully Pip will stop soon enough.
Harrow comes to a stop at his youngest son's crib, peering over the lip of the bars. Ezran is on his back, fussing. He wears a red onesie and his short curly hair is more unruly than usual. Big blue eyes watery and tears streaming down his tear raw chubby cheeks.
"Hey," Harrow whispers softly, reaching into the crib to scoop the young prince up, quietly shushing him as the baby sobs miserably into the king's shoulder. "Sshh, ssh... it's okay, it's okay…"
"Da…" Ezran mumbles into his neck, clutching onto his tunic with small chubby hands. His tears and snot leak through Harrow's clothes but he doesn't mind, just begins to shift his weight from foot to foot and gently rocking Ezran. The sway of his body soon lulls Ezran enough so that the baby's cries soon taper off into quiet hiccups and Harrow closes his eyes tight and presses a hard kiss to the side of the boy's head. He holds him tight, almost afraid that if he lets go the last good thing in his life will be taken from him.
Just the thought of losing Ezran makes something horrible twist agonizingly in his gut and he subconsciously holds the boy tighter. He does not know what he would do if he lost Ezran. Harrow does not think he would survive it; the only thing that had kept him going after Sarai died was his boys. And mere weeks after the greatest loss of his life he loses half of his support.
Grief and regret hit him like a physical blow. Gods, how did this happen? He wonders hysterically. It is like the world is determined to take every bit of happiness and love from him. He refuses to let it take Ezran too. He will not allow it.
The baby in his arms pushes off from his shoulder to better look around and says "Cal, Cal, Cal," and Harrow thinks his heart breaks all over again.
"Callum isn't here, baby," he whispers, voice cracking.
He knows Ezran is too young to understand what he is saying. He knows this. The young prince has just barely begun to parrot words and has yet to even string the most simplest of sentences together yet. At this point, the baby signs more than he talks. Perhaps it is the tone of his voice that sets the baby off, maybe he just starts to cry again because that is just what babies do. Whatever it is Ezran begins to cry anew, small sobs and fresh tears fall down his rosy cheeks.
Singing had never been something Harrow had excelled at, but he began to sing a lullaby nonetheless. Humming a soft melody in between the verses and rocking Ezran soothingly. He sways from foot to foot, sometimes he paces across the room to the window and steps out onto the balcony to give the boy fresh air before looping back inside to circle his quarters once again. He checks the boy's cloth to find it clean and he refuses to eat so Harrow is left to wait and soothe the baby until eventually, he quiets down.
The minutes slowly trickle by but Ezran does not stop crying, he is quieter this time, however. Instead of loud wails, the boy sobs miserably into Harrow's shoulder, he takes great hiccuping breaths and lets out another round of sobs. He cries for so long and so hard that Harrow begins to feel concerned but he continues singing and swaying anyway.
Sarai had always been better at this then Harrow. Ezran was a remarkably well-behaved baby, rarely ever cried unless he needed a cloth change or he was especially hungry. His late wife had told him horror stories about when Callum was a baby, while she was pregnant with Ezran in an attempt to terrify Harrow for her own amusement. Apparently Sarai's first child had been born early into the world and was very sickly, he would cry all night and all day. His wife would laugh and say that she had gone through countless sleepless nights.
Ezran turned out to be the exact opposite, Harrow had been worried that he was to quiet. But Sarai had suggested that maybe their son was just a quiet soul.
Under normal circumstances, Harrow could have rocked his son for hours, ever patient and loving. But right now he felt restless, wanting to get back to help Amaya organize the search parties and just do something. He feels useless. He has been up in the palace nearly this entire time just waiting for news. Viren has insisted he stay within the palace in case this was a case of kidnapping and some unknown enemy is trying to lure Harrow out of the palace. So far no ransom has been demanded, however.
Harrow almost wishes this was a case of ransom. He would pay any price for his son and at least then he could do something. But this? This waiting for the unknown is killing him.
Eventually, his son quiets once more and Harrow gingerly moves them to the softest recliner in his quarters and settles down. His back sings in relief and Harrow finds himself sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh, he rests Ezran securely on his lap. The baby lets out small whimpers every couple of moments but besides that, he has settled down. The king gingerly cleans his son's face of snot and tears with the sleeve of his tunic and continues to sing. The deep baritone of his voice lulls Ezran and the prince's eyes begin to droop sluggishly.
The stress of the last several days catches up to him and Harrow doesn't remember ever being so exhausted. Without realizing it he sinks deeper into the chair, his eyes sliding closed and he slips into a deep sleep still sitting up with his son held securely in his arms.
Harrow wakes up late the next morning, blinking his blue eyes open he squints sluggishly around the room. The sun has already risen passed the horizon and no trace of the early morning colors are in the sky. Pip isn't in the room, probably out flying. Ezran sleeps peacefully in his lap, thumb held loosely in his mouth. He feels a small, gentle smile tug at his lips and Harrow carefully pushes a lock of his son's curls out of his face.
He stays there for a long moment, just looking. He wishes he had nothing to worry about, that he could just stay here all day and look after his son but he feels a sharp need to get up and get back to looking for Callum. He tells himself that once his son is found and back home he will allow himself time to just be there with Ezran, but right now he has to leave. Just for a little bit.
He changes Ezran's cloths, the boy barely even stirring before falling right back asleep. He must have exhausted himself from all of the crying he had done the night before. Harrow gently sets the prince back into his crib and walks to his wardrobe to swiftly change his dirties clothes and pull his hair back and out of his face. He splashes water on his face and swiftly exits, his personal guard standing straighter as he opens the door.
"Anything to report?" Harrow asks his guard.
"General Amaya has something to report, she said it could wait until you awoken, however, and she is waiting for you in your office, your majesty." One of them says, by the look in the guard's eye, it is not good news. The now-familiar throb of disappointment throbs in his stomach and Harrow sighs. But he is sure that if Amaya had found anything truly important that he would have been woken immediately so he tries his best not to worry too much.
He steps into his office to find that the mess he had made yesterday has been cleaned up and a map has been erected on one of the walls with flags and markers sticking out at various points. Amaya and Gren are speaking to one of the castle's researchers, the general swiftly signing and Gren just as swiftly translating. Everything goes quiet as Harrow steps in.
"What have you found?" Harrow practically demands, eager to know.
Amaya stares at him a moment before reaching under the desk and pulling out a familiar piece of red fabric. Callum's scarf. It had been a gift from Harrow himself the first time he had met the boy, and it had been something that Callum wore almost every day much to Harrow's satisfaction. Harrow's stomach drops. The fabric is stained and slightly damp, it must have been found recently.
"We found this caught on a tree branch in the East river five miles from here," Amaya signs, walking over to the map and pointing to one of the markers.
"Half a mile before that there are signs of something climbing out of the river, the hounds confirmed this to be Callum. He fell into the river, yes. But he made it out." she gestures to another maker slightly before the other.
Harrow knows he shouldn't get his hopes up but relief fills him to the brim and his shoulders sag. This is great news. Callum managed to survive the harsh rapids and waterfalls of the East River and had crawled out alive. But before he can get his hopes up any farther Amaya continues, Gren's voicing for her.
"We tracked him several hundred feet from there where… where we found evidence of a humungous creature. We haven't identified it yet, but whatever it was, it is huge. From there Callum and the creature's trails disappear. We suspect… we suspect it either took him or..." Amaya cannot finish and Harrow doesn't think he could bare it if she did.
Harrow manages to croak "What kind of evidence?" through the rock in his throat. Devastation begins to choke him.
Amaya looks at him with a frown, "It knocked over multiple trees and we found several tracks; it is a quadruped with four toes and we estimate it is far bigger than a two-story building. Maybe bigger."
"Do you have any theories on what it is?"
"Given that a creature of that immense size manages to leave no trace, we suspect it is a dragon," the researcher pipes up, gesturing to the many books that Harrow recognizes to be from the library. "The trackers also found what they believe to be where the beast landed, it laid down to rest before making its way to Callum where it laid down again before walking to a nearby clearing and taking off."
This is… the last thing Harrow expected. After everything, they managed to find where Callum went exactly, that he survived being swept down a raging river of all things only to be taken or eaten or worse by a dragon. The king stumbles back until his back rests against the wall, breathing is becoming difficult. He can't handle this, he can't…
But the Amaya is there, right in front of him. This close he can see her eyes are red-rimmed from crying and she looks just as broken as feels. The deaf general swiftly tugs Harrow to her and wraps her arms around him and the king does not need any translation he clings to her desperately. A few tears manage to slip out and Harrow burrows his face into Amaya's shoulder. The woman does the same to him and they stand there together for a long few moments to share in their pain.
Eventually, they do part, Gren and the researcher respectively looking away. "Do you think this is an attack from Xadia?" Harrow wonders hollowly.
"We are not sure," The researcher says. "It is still unknown how involved dragons are in the politics of Xadia, and reports say that Thunder was seen at the border during the time of Callum's disappearance. It could not have been him."
"I am going to travel to Lux Aurea to question the Sunfire elves," Amaya says, face stony.
Harrow blanches, "What? Amaya, no! It's far too dangerous."
"The Sunfire elves are a prideful people," Amaya signs over him, "They will not kill me if a surrender myself to them."
"They may not kill you but they will not allow you to return to Katolis!" Harrow argues.
"I cannot do nothing, Harrow." she signs determinedly. And the two glare at each other long and hard and something in her gaze makes something within Harrow give and he understands. If he could leave and question Xadia he would. But as much as he is a father he is also a king and he despises that he has to choose between his family and his people like this.
After a long long moment, King Harrow pulls back his shoulders and says "As your king I order you to return home safely," he tells her and Amaya gives him a genuine smile and pulls him into yet another hug. Harrow almost doesn't want to let her go.
From there they all begin to plan, Harrow writes a formal letter to the queen of Lux Aurea for Amaya to take with. The general plans to head to the border with commander Gren and wait for a patrol of Sunfire elves to find her and from there she will learn if Xadia has Callum. Harrow knows it is a fool's plan but they are desperate and logically he knows he cannot stop Amaya when she has put her mind to something.
"Please be safe," he signs to her as she is getting ready to leave.
His sister in law smiles at him and raises her hand to say "I should be telling you the same thing!"
He gives her a watery smile and walks with her the entire way to the courtyard and helps her tack up her and Gren's horses while the commander runs to their rooms to get the rest of their supplies. They work in companionable silence and Harrow doesn't think there is any more he can say and Gren returns all too soon with their bags and everything seems to be happening so quickly and Harrow gives Amaya one last hug before she swings onto her horse and nudges the mare's sides.
He watches her go for a long silent moment before shouting "Amaya!" Gren gestures to the general and she turns to look back at Harrow. The king gestures to himself then crosses his arms across his just before pointing at Amaya. I love you. Amaya looks surprised a moment before quickly returning the gesture and Harrow feels his heart swell.
He lingers in the courtyard long after they are gone. He doesn't know what to do with himself now, there is nothing he can do except wait for Amaya to return. He begins to walk aimlessly through the castle, turning this way and that. He doesn't want to go back to his office. Doesn't even know what he wants to do. His thoughts travel to Callum once again and he wants so badly for him to be here and… he realizes with a start that he has come to a stop in front of Callum's bedroom. He hasn't been here since before Callum went missing.
Harrow stands at the door for a long long time, shakily he reaches for the knob and quietly steps into Callum's room, the bed is unmade and art supplies litter the desk and for a moment he can almost imagine that the small boy is just around the corner tucked into the little nook at the windowsill. The room is dim, the curtains half-drawn, and beams of soft light poor in through the gaps. Dust motes float in the light of the sun and the king thinks that it is remarkably quiet here.
With a heavy heart he makes his way farther into the room to the desk, Callum was remarkably good at art even for his age. It made a small part of him swell in pride at how talented the boy was, despite the situation. The drawing he was last working on was… of Sarai. It was stiff and disproportionate but it was no doubt his late wife. Great care went into the eyes and deep erase marks smudged up most of the paper. Gingerly, he picked up the paper to get a closer look, revealing another drawing beneath it. This one was of Harrow himself, sitting at his desk and writing something down. Callum must have drawn it during one of the many times he snuck into Harrow's office to just sit on one of the chairs. He had told the king that he was hiding from Soren once and Harrow had never minded the company.
A dark splotch appeared on the drawing of Sarai and Harrow jerked in surprise as the teardrop soaked into the paper and smudged the charcoal lines of her nose. He walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sank down onto the unruly sheets, bowing his head as he stared at the childish drawing of his wife that his son had made with silent tears streaming down his face.
The paper slipped from his hands as he pressed them to his face instead, warm tears dripped down his face and small hiccuping sobs. He wishes so bad that Sarai was here; she would know what to do. She wouldn't have allowed Callum to run off in the first place. She would've been watching him. But instead of doing that Harrow had been grieving on his own, unable to look at the boy who was now his sole responsibility.
"Harrow?" a familiar voice says at the doorway, he turns miserably to see Viren standing at the door. His old friend looks devastated at Harrow's state and the king cannot find it within himself to be ashamed. He feels too broken.
Viren steps into Callum's room and takes a seat next to Harrow, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harrow leans into the touch, greedily taking any comfort he can get.
"Is…" he coughs a couple of times, "Is there… a spell you could use to find my son?" Amaya had gone to ask but Harrow does not trust the elves of Xadia to be truthful and if Viren can help him find Callum faster than he doesn't care. Even now he isn't sure if Callum is alive and he does not know what he will do if all of his hope gets shattered.
Viren is quiet for a long moment, "I will need to do research," the man admits. "And it will take a long time and… resources," Harrow knows what he means by that, magical creatures. He convinces himself it is for the greater good.
"I do not care," He tells his friend, he feels almost numb.
Viren leans against him comfortingly, "I will do everything in my power to find Callum, Harrow. I promise."
And Harrow smiles at his dear friend, relief filling him to the brim.
So I'm thinking this fic will mostly be in Sol Regem's POV but I also think it's necessary to show other things too like how Harrow is handling Callum going missing and to set up a few things as well. I hope this chapter wasn't too boring or anything and I know I kind of rushed it near the end but honestly, I just wanted to get back to writing Callum and Sol Regem. I love Harrow but he is so sad rn its not fun to write lol
Okay, so I'm thinking that I'm going to update this fic every Monday? At least I'm gonna try to do so once a week but I was just so excited about this one I couldn't wait any longer lol I haven't quite figured out how long it's gonna be yet and I'm very much just making this up as I go but I do have a vague plan :P
I hope you guys like this chapter and please tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome :)