Edmund had gotten used to living in a state of constant despair. His kingdom was one of darkness. He'd lived in the shadows all his life. It was all he knew. He used to despise and fear the darkness when he was about Horace's age. As royalty of the Dark Kingdom, he had been a part of the Brotherhood by default, but it wasn't until he had started feeling depressed and restless that he started to truly train with them.
Edmund had been looking for solidarity, and he found it. He'd been able to develop a kinship with the younger knights, including Quirin, Hector, and Adira. More than that, he's been able to develop a strong bond with Lidiya. His queen. His best friend. His poor, departed wife.
She had been the light to break through the darkness. She hadn't just trained with him, she had joined him in his day-to-day duties. Whenever Edmund began to find himself losing motivation and his will to fight the battle that his ancestors had started, Lidiya was right there to provide a listening ear to his troubles, as well as a stern talking to when he began to fall too far.
Lidiya lit up his life. The day that she was taken from him was the darkest day in Edmund's life. He would have fallen back into his grief and resentment for the moon and shadows if he didn't have his son and the Brotherhood at his side. He had lost his darling svet, his Lidiya, but he still had his family.
Edmund could feel himself slipping back into the darkness again. He did his best to fight it. He was old enough now to recognize what his responsibilities to his kingdom were. He had the duty to protect the moonstone, serve the moon, and lead his people, however few they were. It was difficult to maintain his optimism when his son was gone and seemed to despise their home so much that he would run away.
Edmund knew that he had failed Horace. He hadn't known how to give his son what he wanted. When Edmund had seen that Horace was starting to feel the way that he once had when he was younger, he'd tried to give him an ally. A brother. Varian couldn't be for Horace what Lidiya had been for Edmund, but the young boy had given his son somebody to talk to.
Edmund had hoped it would be enough, and for a time it was, but that time had passed. Horace still ran, and now Varian was gone as well. Edmund missed them, and he was concerned for their well-being, but he also missed his oath-sworn siblings.
Adira had left months ago to try to find the trail of their sons. Every once and awhile Hamuel would deliver correspondence between them, but it had been quite some time since a letter had been sent or received. The last time Hamuel had flown off with a letter for Adira, he'd come back with the letter still gripped in his claws a few weeks later. He'd gotten lost and had been unable to find her. Adira was too far away.
Edmund had stopped sending Hamuel after Adira, and he'd instead asked his bird to spend time with Hector in the Great Tree. Edmund knew that his youngest brother was more than capable of guarding the tree on his own, but Hector didn't always handle isolation well. Sometimes he craved solitude. Other times he got lonely and restless, and his temper got worse. Edmund hoped that Hamuel's company helped Hector.
Edmund wished he could write to Hector, but his brother had a very hard time reading his penmanship, and Edmund couldn't for the life of him understand Hector's scrawl. In the past when it was necessary that they exchange letters they would pull Quirin in to be their middle-man, as he somehow found both of their handwriting equally legible.
Edmund couldn't ask that of Quirin though. He felt that he couldn't ask anything of him. Though he and Quirin were now the only ones in the large castle, the only family they had a connection to at the moment, they barely spoke to each other. Most days Edmund wasn't even able to get a 'hello' in response when he greeted Quirin when they passed each other in the hall. There had been a few times where weeks would pass between instances that Quirin would willingly talk to him.
Edmund understood his brother's frustration, and he sympathized with him, but that didn't make the cold shoulder any easier to handle. It was an odd feeling, to miss someone who was right there. Edmund tried to give Quirin his space, no matter how painful it got.
After a few months there was a day when he woke up feeling an all too familiar emptiness in his chest. It was a feeling he had been fighting off all these months, since Hector had come stumbling into the throne room with news about what he'd found.
Edmund wanted to roll over in his bed, pull his covers back over his head, and sleep the day away. He ended up just lying on his back, staring numbly at the ceiling for about a half an hour before he found the motivation to sit up. He sat at the edge of the bed and suddenly it seemed impossible to push himself to his feet. He sat on his bed, back hunched and head lowered, for a long while before he heard a hesitant knock on his door.
"Your majesty," Quirin opened the door, letting himself in. For the first time in several months he didn't lookangry or completely dejected, he just looked tired. "Edmund, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, old friend." Edmund said quietly. He sat up, trying in vain to adopt the air of confidence and control that he should have as king. "Is all well with you? Did you need something?" He didn't think that Quirin would willingly talk to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Not until his son came home.
Quirin's face fell. He looked upset, and the fatigue in his eyes became even more clear. "I need nothing." Quirin slowly approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, things may be tense between us right now, but that doesn't mean that I'll leave you on your own to suffer today."
Edmund straightened further and finally pushed himself to his feet. He pushed past Quirin. "I'm not suffering. I'm just having a bit of a slow day. I'm fine."
Quirin gave him a look of disbelief. He knew far more than Edmund wanted him to. Quirin sighed and nudged his arm in a gesture that was similar to what Hector would do. "Come on. I'm not just going to let you wallow in bed all day. We're going to spar."
"You don't have to do this." Edmund said as Quirin took his arm and pulled him out of the room.
"I know I don't." Quirin said. "But I want to." Edmund felt that he should resist and insist that he could handle being on his own, but he didn't say a word. He truly didn't want to be by himself today, and it was nice that his brother was being amiable, even if Quirin probably went back to resenting him tomorrow.
Quirin led him to the sparring fields outside the castle. Hamuel squawked and flew to meet them. The bird landed on Edmund's shoulder and nuzzled against him. Edmund gave his old friend a small smile and stroked his feathers.
"I thought you were keeping Hector company." Edmund said.
"Hector sent him back for the week." Quirin held up a note written by Hector. Edmund didn't need to know exactly what it said to know the sentiment of the letter. Hector was probably worried about him and didn't think that he should be alone today.
Edmund appreciated his brothers' concern, but he wished they wouldn't worry. Hector was single-handedly guarding the Great Tree, and Quirin's son was still missing. They had bigger things to worry about then Edmund's loneliness.
Quirin grabbed a staff, which he twirled around experimentally. He knew how to use all kinds of weapons, but he much preferred to fight defensively with a staff than offensively with a blade. Quirin looked at Edmund expectantly. The king sighed and made his way to the weapons rack. He grabbed an ax.
It didn't feel quite right in his hands, not like his usual ax, but it would do decently enough. Besides, it was always important to practice combat with weapons and tools that weren't your own. One never knows just when they'll find themselves in a fight, and you may not always have your weapon on you. It was important to know how to improvise
Quirin adjusted his grip on his staff and gave Edmund a small smirk. "Let's see how rusty you've gotten while you've been sitting on that throne of yours." Quirin had never been one for participating in banter, that was much more Adira's and Hector's styles, but Edmund knew why he was doing it. Varian and Horace were both also in the habit of bantering just a bit too much when they should be focusing on fighting.
For the two men who were missing their sons, as well as their brother and sister, a little banter, while awkward and a bit unnatural, helped them to feel like their practical abandoned castle was a bit more like home.
"I thought you realized years ago that a staff can't win against a blade." Edmund said. He ran towards Quirin, raising his ax. Quirin stood his ground and raised his staff to meet the blade. Edmund expected the ax to be embedded in the staff, like how it frequently happened when they sparred like this. Quirin frequently had to replace or repair his staff, but he didn't mind. He considered it weapon care, no different than the way that Hector needed to sharpen his blades.
To Edmund's shock, though his ax hit the staff it was just deflected, similar to what would happen if he tried to hit a sturdy rock. Edmund briefly lost his balance from the deflection, and Quirin took the opportunity to duck and spin his staff around, hitting Edmund in the knee. The king grunted in pain as his leg began to give out beneath him. It took some interesting maneuvering in a way that he was probably too old to do to keep himself from falling.
"What was that?" Edmund asked. He eyed the staff carefully. Quirin moved it around too easily for it to be stone or metal, but a normal wooden staff shouldn't be able to withstand a powerful hit from an ax.
Quirin smirked proudly as he spun his staff, though Edmund didn't miss the wet glisten in his eyes. "Varian's work. He used that alchemy of his to reinforce my staffs. It won't stand a chance against the black rocks, but it's just as sturdy as steel, if not stronger."
Edmund straightened and lowered his ax. "Can I take a look?"
"Of course." Quirin took Edmund's ax and handed him the staff. Edmund examined it carefully. It looked and felt just like any other staff at a first glance, but when Edmund took a closer look he could see a thin protective layer over the staff. It was quite impressive.
"That boy of yours is quite extraordinary." Edmund said. He spun the staff around, only to drop it. It had been several years since he had handled a staff or spear. He should probably practice with it.
"He is, isn't he?" Quirin bent down and picked up the staff. He offered it back to Edmund.
"I really am sorry about what my son did." Edmund said quietly. "I thought after the tiger incident that he wouldn't do anything to endanger Varian again."
Quirin took in a long, slow breath. "It's not your fault. We all know that Horace has a mind of his own, and isn't easily dissuaded once he gets an idea in his head. And this idea has been stewing for more than ten years."
"It may have never come to this if I did something to keep my own son from feeling like a prisoner in his own home." Edmund could feel the dark feeling building up in his chest again, though this time it was more of guilt than of loneliness. "I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I knew that Horace wanted to leave, but he's the crown prince. His duties to his kingdom need to come before his own personal desires."
Edmund understood his son's struggle though. He himself had been king for years, and he still struggled to put duty before his love for his family. It took all of Edmund's self-control to keep himself from running off after his son himself.
"I should have communicated better with him." Edmund said. For several years now he'd been trying to figure out how to give Horace the chance to go out and see the world. At first he'd been waiting for Horace to be experienced and old enough to take care of himself on his own out in the world. Then it became a matter of waiting for Varian to be old enough. After all, Edmund would feel a lot better about Horace being gone if there was somebody there with him, even if that somebody was barely more than a child.
Edmund hadn't told Horace about these vague plans, partially because he didn't want his son to rush Varian to be prepared sooner, partially because he didn't want Horace to continuously ask him if they were ready. The largest reason Edmund didn't want to talk about it was because he didn't want his son to count down the days until he could leave.
He loved Horace. He loved having him around. Edmund didn't want to let him go, but he'd held on too tightly. Now Horace had pushed away, and Edmund was terrified that he would never see his son again.
He had been looking at his son's stay in the Great Tree as a bit of a trial run, not for Horace, but for him. Edmund had hoped that if he knew exactly where Horace was, who he was with, and how long he would be gone, then he would be okay with Horace's absence. He could get used to it, and then in the near-ish future he could be ready to let his son go for a little longer.
And now Horace was gone, and he'd taken Varian with him, though the boy had never had an interest in leaving home the way that Horace had. Edmund knew that Horace had to leave sooner or later, but this was not how he had wanted this to go.
Edmund wasn't ready yet, and he knew that Quirin was even more unprepared than he was. At least Edmund had known for the past ten years or so that his son would leave sooner or later. Quirin had no reason to believe that Varian would leave. His son was still just a boy.
Quirin put his hand on Edmund's shoulder again, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I'm sure the boys are fine. They'll look out for each other, and Adira will bring them home." Quirin sounded less convinced by his statement than Edmund was, but he still appreciated the reassurance.
"I know." Edmund said. He adjusted his grip on the staff. He needed to get his mind off of the boys, at least for a bit. "Let's give sparring another try. I'll use the staff this time."
"If you insist, your majesty." Quirin gave him a tight smile as he tightened his grip on the ax. It was much heftier than the staffs and swords that he was used to wielding. This would be good practice for the both of them.
The two of them sparred sloppily for the next hour, stumbling over their weapons. People who weren't seasoned warriors probably wouldn't see how terribly they were doing, but they were good enough fighters that they were both a little embarrassed with their performance. The only thing that made Edmund feel better about their sparring was that Quirin seemed to be struggling as well. He wasn't doing nearly as bad as Edmund was, but considering he hadn't trained with a staff since he had lost his arm, and using any weapon with just a single arm was a completely different experience, it only made sense that he would be doing poorly.
When they finally stopped, exhausted but satisfied with the improvement they'd made in a short period of time, they sat side by side and watched the sky as the clouds began to clear, as they did every evening. Edmund always woke up in the middle of the afternoon after sleeping through the day. He didn't think he would ever understand why the rest of the world slept during the beauty of the night.
Edmund sighed. Without the distraction of their sparring, his mind was returning to what he'd been trying to push to the back of his mind since he woke up.
"What do you suppose Horace is doing right now?" Edmund asked.
"Knowing our prince, he's probably enjoying every bit of sun he can get." Quirin said. "Maybe Varian will drag him to a bookstore and they'll get every single book about Flynn Rider that has ever been written."
"I hope he's having a good day." Edmund said quietly. "He deserves to have a good birthday." They may not make a big deal about celebrating birthdays in the Dark Kingdom, but it was still a special day. It was one of the few days of the year that Edmund would make sure to find the time to give his full attention to his son.
Edmund had never missed his son's birthday. Even during his son's first birthday, which was just a few short months after Lidiya had died, he had still dedicated the day to his son. Edmund may have been depressed during that time, and still trying to figure out how to rebuild his kingdom after the damage that the moonstone had done to it after the incident, but he didn't let that stop him from holding his son close, swearing to never let him go.
This was the first time that he hadn't been able to spend his son's birthday with him, and it hurt far more than he'd thought it would. Quirin probably knew that he would miss Horace more than ever today, which was why he had invited him to spar. Edmund and Horace had spent every one of his birthdays since he was a child sparring and training with each other. It meant a lot that Quirin was trying to give Edmund even a little bit of that feeling.
"I miss him." Edmund said quietly. It was the first time he dared to admit it out loud, let alone to his brother. Quirin gave him a sympathetic look.
"I know." Quirin said. He probably understood more than anybody else how Edmund was feeling.
The two of them fell into a comfortable silence after that as they just sat there and watched evening fall. Things would probably go back to being tense and angry between them tomorrow, but for tonight they were two brothers, finding just a small amount of comfort in each other's company, because there wasn't anything else they could do.
Edmund didn't know where Horace was at the moment. He hoped that he was at least safe and enjoying himself. Edmund may put a lot of expectations and responsibilities on his son's shoulders, but he was a prince and guardian of the moonstone. It was his birthright. While Edmund may expect a lot from Horace, he still hoped that he was happy with the freedom that he had taken by force.
Edmund may be a king, but he was still a father. He wanted the best for his son, even if he may not always be able to give it to him.