When she was nine years old, her older brother had done wonders for her already-dwindling self-esteem. He'd scrounged up what spare money he could, with a surprisingly random donation from the palace itself of all places, and bought her a new dress. It was nothing special, a plain olive green slip with cranberry swirls dancing along the cuffs of the sleeves. She'd washed her hair in the river and put herself into that dress, twirling around their rundown shack of a home as a model. Her mother, skin pale with sickness and her older brother sweated and blistered from his backbreaking labor sat with cups of milk and watched her dancing along giddily as her skirt swept so close to the ground, gracing it with the barest of touches. They complimented her 'form' in her silly twisting, telling her just how proud both her father and Kenny would have been if they'd been able to see her.

That had stopped her in her tracks, staring out the dusted window towards a setting sun. She knew her father wouldn't have cared had he lived long enough to see her growing. He wouldn't have paid her a second glance if she wasn't made of ale.

But Kenny…

Kenny would have loved it. Kenny would have danced with her, would have played along as her being a lady of 'noble blood'. He would've made the false reality stay seated for so much longer. She remembered only bits and pieces of him, a mere three when he had turned up missing, his family unable to convince the queen to have more than two weeks' worth of searching before matters of diplomacy came to hand and the forces had to be called off. She vaguely remembered how kind the queen had been when she'd come to see them personally and express her grief and prayers for their youngest son's sudden disappearance. She'd held her mother's dirtied hands, nails brittle and cracked with the stress of labor without the slightest hesitation. Karen had always marveled at that, always being told by her parents that they weren't worthy of being in the presence of the royal family, much less touched by. But there Queen Liane had been, clasping calloused palms and cooing at her in that motherly way despite their relatively identical ages.

Then, the queen had knelt. Knelt down to pet Kevin's and her own head, tell them how she was sure that wherever Kenny was, he missed them very much. And that he'd see them again one day, no matter the circumstance. Karen had burst into tears, unable to fully comprehend that her favorite family member was so quickly and so certainly gone from her life. Kevin had bowed sloppily, but as well as he could manage, having spent the last few weeks with minimal sleep scouring for Kenny. The queen had told the grieving family she would cover the next months' worth of their combined wages while they got back onto their feet, their mother following Karen's reaction and breaking into sobs while her husband held around her. He'd thanked the queen for her generosity before the woman had turned with a sad smile that Karen remembered to this day, and walked out of their home for the first and last time.

Nearly thirteen years had passed. Thirteen years of learning how life must go on despite the hardships one must face. They'd lost her father when she was seven, the fool drunk enough to get into a brawl with one of the royal guards and thrown into a wall. He hadn't made it a full day before they were saying their final prayers for him, the remaining three of the family stoic as they watched him lowered into the earth. The situation had been a strange one to settle on the lot of them. He had never exactly been what one would call a model father and husband, more often than not laying his hands on any of them if it wasn't preoccupied with a cup. But his pittance of salary was still something, and they'd lost it.

Not long after, the loss of both a husband and son in such a short span of time took its toll on her mother. Her ribs began to protrude, eyes sunken and dark, always staring at the wall like it would bring back all she'd lost. Kevin and Karen did what they could, trying to keep her up and moving. But three years of slowly withering into nothing finally ended her suffering, Kevin having to go directly to the queen to get custody of Karen and move them into a smaller shack on the outskirts of the city.

It was a life neither of them wanted. Kevin's dream had been to train to be in the guard, but knew that he couldn't risk being sent into battle and Karen losing her only remaining tie to the McCormick name. And Karen? Karen still didn't know what she wanted. She only knew she yearned for more than what life had given her, that she wanted to pick up and move on somewhere she could be happy and taken care of, not relying on her brother for meager scraps of bread. Not drafted into the royal court's array of servants spread throughout the city.

The pay was next to nothing, but a little was still more than none. She'd been passed from boss to boss in the last three years. More often than not she found herself merely taking care of the elderly until they passed on, then just picking up and applying for the next line of work. She'd found herself in the hands of cruel men and women now and again, ones that claimed of ownership of which they had no such right. She could come and go from the position as she pleased, as Kevin reminded her vehemently. He bore into her skull that she was a paid home keeper; she was not a slave. And anytime she felt as such, she had his full permission to get away from them and find herself a new line of work. Karen had only found herself in such a situation about four times, taking Kevin's advice and walking right out with nothing more than a polite goodbye.

Now, why she'd been randomly reassigned from her previous working home to this one, she'd never know. But, looking at old Mrs. Grady embroidering away in her chair, she couldn't exactly complain.

The woman was very kindly, just needed her house kept in order and the company since her husband had passed away five months prior. She had a fondness for Karen, had told her already how wonderful it was to imagine that she finally had a child of her own. She'd teased that she would much rather have gotten one Karen's age anyway, having a strong disdain for little children running around and making everything a mess. She couldn't disagree with that, taking care of homes with children was exhausting, more than glad that Mrs. Grady was so well-kept and just needed her to assist in cooking and tasks she couldn't handle any longer.

Karen hummed, snagging a wooden spoon from its resting spot and stirring a pot of soup bubbling atop a small fire pit in the kitchen. The aroma of moist chicken and simmering vegetables assaulted her senses, a fond smile crawling up her lips. She enjoyed this, getting to make creations that she couldn't afford at home, Mrs. Grady more often than not sending her back to her house with a bowl or two for Kevin as thanks for Karen's hard work.

She stood on her tiptoes, placing the spoon back into place and slinking back onto the ground. Her pretty olive dress had long since been replaced with worker's garments, muddy tiretain wrapped around her with a dirtied apron tied taut around her waist. Mouse brown hair was swept back with two ribbons, twin pigtails riding down to her shoulder blades and kept from her face. She squeezed and rubbed her hands together a bit to loosen the joints to crack, stealing a glance at her palms and sighing. She had the hands of a middle-aged woman already, hardened with the brunt of labor and tireless effort to keep her and Kevin's little shack afloat. But, as Kevin told her, they were signs of her character. No royalty would have such stories told on their palms, doing nothing for themselves, relying on their slaves to do each and every task. No, no. She was strong. She was unlike those languorous figures sitting oh-so-prettily on their thrones, watching the world pass them by from on high.

Karen didn't know if she agreed with the sentiment. Of the newly-appointed king, she knew his words rang with truth. But she'd seen the fruits of Queen Liane's efforts, the kingdom flourishing under her maternal thumb. Their methods were set in stone, but the rarely seen princess, however, was a bit of a mystery. Karen could only assume that she spent her time handling internal affairs, hearing little more than hearsay regarding her while she ran errands. No one knew her clan, no one knew of her origins. She'd shown up out of the blue when she was ten years old, poised and dressed prettily for an unveiling that Karen had missed due to aiding in the grief process her mother was still suffering through. She'd seen the princess only once years later when she'd found herself in the midst of a royal hearing by chance, seeing her oh-so-tall and glistening in the sun in her adorned sky blue and lilac gown. She had been silent, a thin white scarf draped across her face and hands intricately twisted in front of her while she stood at the queen's side for her announcement. Karen couldn't remember the details of said proclamation, far too busy staring at glimmering blue eyes on a princess that looked far too sad for a woman of such nobility.

Karen shook out her fingers, making way for her broom before a rapid knock caught her attention, both she and Mrs. Grady whipping their heads towards the door. Mrs. Grady chuckled, "Want to bet that's the king's man?" she teased from the nervous energy behind the rapping.

Karen smirked, walking from the kitchen into her main room and laughing back. "I don't make bets I'm sure to lose, Ma'am." Mrs. Grady gave a playful pout as Karen stepped up and opened the door, seeing the disheveled and painted face of Tweek giving her a timid smile.

"H-hello," he waved.

"Hello, Tweek," she bowed her head a bit, stepping aside and letting him come through the door.

He paused in front of Mrs. Grady and gave her a quick, courteous bow, "S-sorry to come in unannounced again, M-Ma'am."

Mrs. Grady cocked her brow, "Sir Tweek, you may do as you wish."

He raised his hands in front of him and shook them rapidly. "No, no, not a Sir. The king would never knight a barbarian!"

"Well, that's his loss," Karen inputted, Tweek blinking at her a bit for her assumption. She shrugged, going back to her original mission to gather her broom from beside the hand-carved pantry. "I won't pretend to understand how that whole thing works, but if you're in direct contact with the king so frequently, he should reward you for that, shouldn't he?"

Tweek cleared his throat, hand flying upwards to fiddle with a lock of strung-out hair. "I-I'm not gonna question what he wants t' do. He makes the rules, not me."

"That's our loss," Mrs. Grady muttered with an eye roll, Tweek looking at her in astonishment. She looked up and scoffed, "Don't look so scandalized, young man. You grow up with great leaders and it declines and you take notice. We can only hope he'll come into his reign."

Karen nodded in agreement, sweeping across the sparse dirt particles on the main floor. "Exactly. Maybe he's just not used to the power as of yet. Perhaps, with time, he'll learn his people better."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Tweek said quietly, eyes darting around for potential listeners lingering outside the homestead. Karen couldn't help but chuckle quietly. Tweek was an enigma, a barbarian who'd come up to Mrs. Grady's requesting if he could speak to her only days after her reassignment. She'd been dumbfounded but allowed it nonetheless, Tweek doing little more than introducing himself to the both of them and telling Karen that he was sent by special order of the king to observe and speak to some of the servants in the kingdom. She'd bought it for a few minutes before the questions became far more than just regarding her work ethic, Tweek asking of her family and pushing until landing on the topic of Kenny.

She still didn't know why he wanted these stories, but something about it held the air of suspicion. No one had brought up her brother but her family since he disappeared, his existence all but taboo. After all, they still didn't know what'd happened to him, so bringing him up could reopen old wounds that no one wanted to take the time to assist in healing. Either way, however, she didn't particularly mind. What little she remembered had been enhanced via Kevin's stories of their time spent together as children, Karen more than happy to pass on those tales. At least something besides just her and Kevin's dinnertime discussions were attempting to keep his memory alive.

"Would you like some coffee, Tweek?" she offered, Tweek looking back at her and nodding briskly.

"I mean… if it's not, ya know… trouble," he winced.

She chuckled, "Wouldn't offer if it was." She turned on her heel and headed back into the kitchen towards her kettle situated by the fire pit. Tweek sat in a chair across from Mrs. Grady, cocking his head at her embroidery. Beaming gold thread splashed out vibrantly against a pine fabric, intricate swoops and curls dancing across the canvas.

"What're you making?"

She shrugged, "Pillowcases. This place is just so drab," she glanced around her room and shook her head. "I finally have the time to just sit and make it my home instead of my house. Thanks to Karen, of course," she nodded at the girl walking back out with three steaming cups and a smile. She set them onto the table between the two of them, walking back to the kitchen to snag a jug of milk and a jar of course-grained cane sugar. She made way back towards them, sitting down beside Tweek and the three went about preparing their cups, the women watching amusedly as he barely doused his with either and began chugging it down. Karen finished mixing her concoction, taking a satisfied, long sip and sighing contentedly, relishing in the warmth of the mug delving into the lines of her hands, tenderizing the sore flesh. She glanced over at Tweek's bouncing leg and his timid gulping, shaking her head a bit. How one could function with such nerves was beyond her, but she admired it in a way.

Her brother had taught her to hold herself up with confidence, so no one could get under her skin. The McCormicks were notorious for flying off the handle, for being consistently on edge and ready to beat down anyone who so much at looked at them funnily. But, Kevin firmly informed her that they needed to break the cycle, that their parents had failed at doing so, but they could set things right. He told her that Kenny would be right there with him agreeing to his heart's content. Karen looked down at the milk jug with a small sigh. Kevin often told her how Kenny would react to certain predicaments. But how would he know? Kenny was gone by the time he was only five, not nearly old enough to have his future set. Her brother, however, was confident. So beyond sure of himself that Kenny would have grown to care more for the both of them than himself.

Karen had no doubts that he was correct, but not knowing, not seeing such a notion come to fruition… It was hard to get a grasp around the concept.

"S-so…" Tweek started slowly, looking over at her with wide hazel eyes. She cocked her head a bit, knowing what he was prodding for but wanting him to spell it out first. "Brother story?" he winced.

She laughed at his expression, shrugging and taking another long sip of her coffee. "I've told you for the past month, Tweek, I was only three."

"But you still know stories," he countered hurriedly. Mrs. Grady looked between the two of them with a smirk, taking a small sip and going back to her needle and thread.

Karen leaned back in her chair and sighed, legs crossing and foot bouncing in thought. "Fireflies," she said softly, feeling his eyes stuck on her attentively. "Kenny would take me out to catch fireflies. He'd steal empty ale jars from our father, clean them in the river, and he'd take me out to find them. He'd carry me on his back all the way towards the forest where there's more of them…" she looked up with a sad glaze over her dark eyes. "For when the candles had burnt out, so we'd have light. At least… that was his logic," she chuckled somberly. "That's one of the few things I actually remember…"

She paused, biting her lip. She knew it the last time they'd ventured out was the day before he'd disappeared. Because she distinctly remembered his face alit in the ethereal glow surrounding them, a missing tooth in his wide smile as he promised her that they'd come back the next night and get some more, but it was time for them to go home for bed. She'd never gotten that next trip. That was the last time she wanted to even see a firefly, much less catch one. Too many stilted memories, too much of a connection to someone that she knew so little and yet so much about. All she truly knew was that the pain was still there, that that little three-year-old wailing into Kenny's pillow still lingered in the back of her mind. Buried under years of maturing and learning the harsh reality of the world around her, she still held onto that oh-so-naïve hope.

She believed maybe it was something she and Kevin shared, seeing the same wistful fondness on his face during his stories. Maybe it was a belief that his miraculous return would boost their drab lives at last. They were tired of living in the dirt, so sick of their name being met with a sneer. Even if he didn't bring that kind of resolution to their lives, he'd bring something. Every little bit of family, every little bit of help was needed and appreciated by the McCormick kids. Their pride could only carry them for so long, sometimes there needed to be more than just a head held high to keep a family from splitting at the seams.

"You okay?" Tweek's voice broke through her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you!"

She glanced at him and smiled with a shrug, "You didn't. It happens. You're fine, Tweek."

He gulped, fingers drumming the side of his emptied mug in an erratic rhythm. "Still though…" he glanced towards the kitchen. "Want me t-to take this to the basin or…?"

Karen waved him off. "Don't worry, I got it. Will that be all?"

He took a peek out the window and nodded, "Yeah… I'm running behind today. Gotta get back to the palace or the king will lose it." He placed his cup onto the table and got to his feet, giving them both another shaky smile and bow of his head. "Thanks again."

"Anytime, Tweek," Mrs. Grady answered. "You be safe out there."

"I-I try," he grinned weakly, shooting Karen another thankful gaze before turning on his heel and hurrying out the house.

The women watched after him, Karen blinking slowly. "Well… that was much quicker than usual."

Mrs. Grady nodded slowly, "What a strange young man."

Karen chewed on her lip softly. "I just wish I knew what it was he wanted with these stories about my brother. It's just so… odd," her face twisted. "Kevin can't figure it out either."

"Perhaps they're reopening the search for him," she suggested in a gentle coo.

"Maybe…" she trailed off, chest twisting in suspicion. Something about that just didn't seem right, especially knowing the habits of the fat king lazing about the throne. He cared little for his known citizens, much less the ones that'd been missing for well over ten years. She let out a deep breath and took another sip of her coffee. At least Tweek had one quality about him: He was a wreck. And wrecks, as she'd learned hunting through broken and deserted wagons for tradeable goods with Kevin, were exploitable.

She'd figure this out yet. She just had to wear him down, and get the jittery barbarian to divulge every little bit of what he knew so she could put together her own pieces. All it would take it as far as she could tell was a little patience, some precise chiseling at his defenses, and a few kettles of coffee.