Prelude to Ruin Chapter 7: Karthus: A Family Lullaby, a league of legends fanfic

A Family Lullaby

Karthus learns a family lullaby from his sister.

"Eternal Hunters, my sister is going to send me to you."

I try to run my fingers through my hair but not even one second later, they encounter the knot. Just the other day it was only a little snarl. How did it get this bad so fast? It hasn't rained in a few days, so there are no puddles to check my reflection in to see if it looks as bad as it feels.

"Well, even if I can't see it, maybe I can force it apart?"

With no better option, I take a fistful of my hair in each of my hands and pull. Ripping noises and pain are my rewards.

"Ouch!"

I give pulling a second and even a third attempt, but the best I can do is pull the snarl into two equally awful parts. A sign escapes me as I admit defeat. I'm going to need Horatia's help.

I collect the rat I caught and begin my walk back home. The path is winding and it would be easy to get lost in a maze of the capitol's slums if you hadn't been raised there.

Even for those who have been raised here, it is still not easy to get around. Narrow alleys, collapsed buildings, over turned carts, fights breaking out, streets quarantined off due to some plague or another, occasional flooding, trash heaps you can't walk by without gagging; there is always something ready to obstruct a path. But I do have one advantage over many of the other people here. I am small.

Thinner than a healthy person should be and pale as bones, I know I look sickly, but I prefer to think of it as being nimble. I can squeeze through most gaps in fencing, climb over piles of rubble without disturbing them, and sneak through shadows without drawing too much attention to myself, so I can usually get myself home without too much difficulty.

"So what if I already look a little like a corpse? We all look like one eventually."

When I get back home, the sky is beginning to turn orange. Soon Horatia will be back as well. The door to our house is rarely locked because there is nothing worth stealing inside, and it opens for me after a forceful shove. Three rooms make up our entire hovel, a bedroom for my father, and bedroom for me and my sisters, and one large room for everything else, so with just a quick look around, I can tell that nobody else is home.

I drop the rat on the table to be skinned and cleaned later and go to get the broom from the corner of the room.

"If I'm going to bother Horatia, I can at least try to do some of the cleaning for her first."

I tighten the meager bundle of straws on the broom in hopes that it will make it more usable, but I still have my doubts.

Brush. Brush. Brush.

The sounds of the sweeping is the only noise. Horatia is still coming back from work, it's the evening, so Cecelia is probably starting her job, and Liviana was in the upper parts of the city begging today, she has the cutest face, so she usually has some luck, and father is, well, I don't know where he is or what he's doing. Could be doing some odd job, could be drinking. I don't care though, because he doesn't care as much as he should.

When the sweeping is done, I go to what passes for a hearth in our hovel and begin to set it for a cooking fire. Horatia was at her slaughterhouse job today, so there is a chance that she was able to steal away a piece of decent meat and if not, at least there is the rat I caught.

"Rat stew is better than starving," I remind myself, "if only by a little."

Once the sticks are arranged, I take a quick look into the cook pot and see the dull shine of old fat still stuck to its insides. It's not appetizing to look at, but it's not so bad that it's worth wasting clean water to wash it out with.

"Maybe the fat will add some flavor? And if not, I think we have a onion around here somewhere. Maybe even a potato or carrot."

The harsh sound of wood scrapping on wood startles me from my hungry thoughts as it disrupts the solitary silence.

"I'm home," a familiar voice calls out, "if anyone is around to hear me."

"Horatia," I respond, "welcome home."

I spring back to my feet and go to greet my eldest sister. A small smile makes its way onto her face as I greet her. The rest of her though, still looks profoundly weary. Her posture is slumped, her eyes are half-closed, and her clothing is stained with blood. It's not worth the clean water to wash something that is immediately going to get stained again.

"How was work," I ask, "were you able get anything?"

"A little something, just a bit of pork," Horatia responds as she places a bloody parcel on the table next to the rat, "but it looks like you had your own decent catch today? Are you sure you wouldn't rather have more rat stew instead of pork skewers?"

"No!"

"Alright Karthus, we'll enjoy what you got tomorrow."

She collapses into the chair at the table and sighs deeply before talking again.

"As for 'how was my day,' it was the same as always; messy, noisy, and everything smelled like pig shit. Err, excuse me, pig crap."

"You can say 'shit' around me. I've heard worse form the neighbors."

"True, but I still shouldn't be cursing in front of a kid. Someone needs to set a good example for you."

"You already do."

Horatia smirks as she straightens her posture just a little.

"You're good at telling people what they want to hear, little brother. Keep practicing that skill and you might be able to make something for yourself from it."

"I don't want to be a sycophant to get ahead."

"A sick-o-what? Are you making up words?"

I shake my head.

"I heard one of the tally-men accuse another of being one. Said he was disingenuous and giving to much praise to one of the generals to get more donations for the Shrine of the Wolf, so I think the word means ass kisser."

"Just because you've heard foul words, doesn't mean you need to use them."

"Sorry. So I think the word means brown nosing suck up."

"That's better, I think."

"I don't want to have to lie about people just to make them happy. I want to tell the truth and the truth is that you're a good, responsible, loving family member."

A soft chuckle escapes her.

"Alright," she said, "what do you want, Karthus?"

"Huh?"

"I could almost call you a sick-o-whatsit right now. You're talking me up and, even if it's the truth, it's obvious you want something."

"Was it that obvious?"

"It would have been less so if you only left it at one compliment."

"I still wasn't lying."

"I know. So, what do you want, dear brother?"

"I- I need some help."

"With what?"

"With this?"

I turn around and I am glad I will not have to see her disappointed expression.

"Oh, Karthus," she sighs.

"Is it that bad?"

"Forget looking for rat's nests, you've got one attached to your head."

"Oh. Will you help me untangle it?"

Another deep sigh is heard from behind.

"Of course. What else are big sisters for? Go get the comb."

She tries to sound cheerful, but I know she is annoyed. Not wanting to keep her waiting, I rush to our room and come back with my comb. Though we all share most of our belongings, combs were the one thing Horatia insisted we had our own of. One week of shared head lice was enough to convince her of that.

I hand her the comb and sit on the floor before her. Then, my torment begins. She starts slowly, just running her fingers over the snarl to try and get a better idea about how dire the situation is. After that, the plucking begins; quick, short brushes around the snarl's edge to begin coaxing it to detangle. I hate this part. The constant pulling and tugging with little progress being made makes me more impatient than anything else, but I know what Horatia would say if I suggest just starting at the top and forcing the comb down.

"No short cuts, Karthus. That's only going to lead to a worse tangle and a broken comb."

So I keep my mouth shut and only grunt even as my head is jerked back as she moves into the thick of it. As much as I want to curse, I bite back the words. I know hearing me swear upsets her, and she is already annoyed with me, and I am very much at her mercy right now. It would be best for me not to make her mood worse.

As she continues to pluck at my hair, I lean my head back in an attempt to relieve the tension, but Horatia cups the back of my head and pushes it back upright.

"You need to be still," she sighs.

I try, but as the comb becomes lodged in the worst part of the knot and she tugs to free it, I lose control.

"Ouch!" I snap, "Stop it!"

"Absolutely not," she responds in a tone that leaves no room for argument, "if you insist on growing your hair out, you must learn to take care of it."

Along with the comb, I can feel her fingers picking and pulling at the knots. It all makes my scalp sting and I cannot help but wonder if it would just be better to live with knotted hair forever.

"Your hair is so beautiful, so soft, and so bright," she continues to scold, "It's almost as nice as mine. It pains me to see you not give it the care it needs."

"Braiding it takes too much effort," I grunt out as she picks at a particularly nasty part of the knot.

"And detangling this rat's nest takes much more. You need to braid your hair before you go to sleep. Please, for both our sakes."

"Alright."

I hear her sigh but say no more. For several painful minutes, I do my best to try and keep in any sound of discomfort. Soon though, I hear Horatia begin to hum a melody.

"What is that song?" I ask, "I hear you and the others humming it, but I don't think I've heard it sung fully before."

"It's a lullaby. Our mother used to sing it when we couldn't fall asleep."

She pauses for a moment before continuing.

"I have no doubt she would have sang it to you as well."

I remain silent, focusing all my attention on the melody and the scattered bits of verses as she works through the snarl minute by minute until she can comfortably run her fingers through my hair. And then suddenly, I feel sorrow grip at my heart.

"Why? How can I miss something I never knew? No. Don't think about it."

"Can you teach it to me?" I ask.

It is sudden, but I want to be distracted from this feeling.

"The lullaby?" Horatia asks, her tone softer than it has been all evening.

"Yes."

She smirks.

"I think you're a little too old for lullabies," she teases, "but I'll still sing it for you. Anything for my one and only baby brother."

She grips my hair and tousles it around roughly, but I can tell there is affection behind the force. However, I know that this cannot be good for detangling anything.

"Ugh, stop it!" I protest, "You just finished."

"I'll just have to do it again then. Now hold still."

And as she begins the work of cleaning my hair anew, she sings.

"The wolves they howl in the night, they fill the wind with song,

With toothy grin and fur of grey

They laugh and sing and bay

'Till sky does dance along in step, haunting, wise, and strong."

"The owls, from their treetops, join the chorus of the night,

Crooning tender calls of 'hoo,'

From perch of oak or yew,

Such a soulful song, compels the stars to shine more bright."

"And in the mountains to the south, the gentle Bellswayers dance,

Celestial, with silver coats

And golden bells of chiming notes

Tintinnabulation puts the night into a trance.

"All these beasts of Empire home, their music swirling by,

To their songs I add my care,

And too my hopes and prayers,

We all wish you sweet dreams, my dear, our nightly lullaby."

I listen intently to each and every word she sings. The strange sadness still hangs around my heart, but with each verse and each brush of the comb, Horatia banishes it. By the end, I feel so calm that I hadn't realized I had shut my eyes.

"Did mother really sing that song?"

"To all of us. She sang it to calm me down if I hurt myself, to Cecelia when she had nightmares, to Liviana when she was too restless to sleep, and even to you when you were still in her tummy."

"I'm ready to learn it."

"You've only heard it once."

I shake my head.

"You just said mother sang it to me before and I also learn songs fast. I know at least three of the talley-men's dirges by heart already. I can learn this."

"Alright. Repeat after me."

"The wolves they howl in the night."

"They fill the wind with song."

"With toothy grin and fur of grey, they laugh and sing and bay."

"'Till sky does dance along in step, haunting, wise, and strong."

"Very good, now can you do it all at once?"

"I can. Listen."

"The wolves they howl in the night, they fill the wind with song,

With toothy grin and fur of grey

They laugh and sing and bay

'Till sky does dance along in step, haunting, wise, and strong."

It's not my best singing, the words bumped against each other and I don't think I had it quite right, but Horatia doesn't seem to mind. She sounds pleased.

"You have her singing voice," she says, "it may have skipped over me and your sisters, but it lives on in you."

Warmth fills my cheeks.

"Do you really mean that?"

"I do and I think our mother would agree with me."

"Do you think she would have liked me?"

"Like you? Karthus, you are her son, she would have loved you. She loved all of us."

"Even though I-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Horatia cuts off.

I nod, turning back to make eye contact with her as I do.

"Are those tears in her eyes? I can't tell with the light."

Horatia continues to talk as though nothing has happened.

"She would have loved you so much. You're smart, kind, do everything you can for the family, and she would be able to sing with you. I have no doubt she would have taught you every song she knew."

Her voice is catching on her words and there is a slight tremor to her voice despite how she tries to hide it. I don't want her to cry. I try to cheer her up.

"Now you're the one who sounds like a sycophant," I tease.

She makes a noise, not quite a chuckle and not quite a sob.

"I'm only telling the truth," she says.

Her arms wrap over my shoulders and she hugs me as tightly as she can from this position. It's not comfortable, she's rubbing the filth of the slaughterhouse onto me, and she stinks of pig, but I wouldn't dare move away. I don't want to. She's my sister, warm and kind and hard-working and able to sing that lullaby as beautifully as anyone.