✔𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈

Chapter 132: A Brother's Eternal Slumber

A/N: Take note that Magoo is seventeen years older than Aiden. Aiden is 22 years old and Magoo is 39 years old in the present.

So a little fun fact, Magoo and Aiden met when Aiden was 15 years old (An appropriate age to hold a sword in the Northern Isles) and when Magoo was 32 years old.

So, basically, Aiden had been training under Magoo's wing for almost 6 years.

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P A S T:

“Look at this, Mags! I learned a new stunt today!”

Four year old Magoo clapped his embonpoint hands in delight as thirteen year old Alf effortlessly swung the light weight, wooden sword in multiple directions.

“Mowe! Mowe!” Magoo squealed, clearly amused by his older brother's show.

Alf smiled in satisfaction to see his younger sibling enjoying, but he didn't want to indulge the poor dear.

Magoo was one curious child, it'd be a horror to see him holding a fork like it was some mighty blade. Mother would be upset.

“You'll see more tomorrow, Maggie,” Alf ruffled the younger boy's hair, “Just you wait, you'll be bragging how your big brother become one of the finest swordsmen in the kingdom.”

Alf also, didn't want to indulge himself. Their village is technically the least noticed part of the Northern Isles, and the preteen knew that the King selects his noble knights from the most privileged sectors in the country.

But Alf wouldn't call it false hope. He had a supportive younger brother,  a protective, overly loving mother, and a cozy house nearby a flowing river, those are more than enough for him to keep his chin up for this vast dream.

“Alfie! Magoo! Get inside, it's getting quite dark.”

Alf quickly picked up his little brother with ease, leaving their boots outside to refrain hearing another lecture which will probably consist the words, “The broom will attack you at night if you don't give it enough rest because of those darn boots.”

Frida quickly washed her flour covered hands before untying the lace from her apron, “Where's mama's birthday boy?”

Magoo giggled as his mother took him from his older brother's arms, gently setting him down on the chair which had a great view of the well baked cake and the other prepared dishes.

Frida carefully placed a thin candle on top of the cake before lighting it up, “Happy Birthday, Maggie. Come on, love, make a wish.”

Round brown eyes focused on the small, dancing flame, before whispering something faintly which both Frida and Alf couldn't hear.

“Done!” The celebrant grinned.

“Does that mean I can get some icing now?” Alf whined.

“Wash your hands first, little misters,” Frida reminded sternly.
...
What was happening?

“M-mama? Alfie?”

Magoo still didn't get why the Northern guards swarmed the fallen village, some aimlessly looking for any survivors while several troops carried limp, lifeless bodies into a certain space.

Why are they holding shovels?

Magoo was getting scared, he was hearing firm, outraged voices just outside their destroyed home and there he hugged his knees in a little corner, not a single scratch etching his face nor his body.