WARNING -- Very strong language.
A/N -- Prepare yourself. That is all.
A dull, vacant expression --eyes that were sagging and half open and a face that drew out barely a semblance of coherence... that's what General Zayn was staring at from across the tavern table. Renna Gwenneth looked years older than she was now with her lackluster gaze and withered, sallow cheeks. All fires Iris's aunt once might have had within her were snuffed out like a candle. Even still, Zayn ordered her breakfast, trying to keep things civil and peaceable.
"Renna, you need to get help," he told her, breaking the silence of the meal. "You're going to kill yourself doing this. Do you hear me, Renna?" Her eyes had drifted away from his face in the middle of his sentence. Zayn steeled himself. "You are going to die like this."
An abrupt, almost shrill, laugh left Renna's throat. "I am already dead, boy. I don't... I don't need..." she slurred. She spoke again in a hiss. "Don't presume to tell me what I need, boy. Go away and leave this dead woman in peace." The words fell off in volume at the end, and Renna's consciousness wavered considerably. Slowly, she moved downward toward the surface of their table.
"I will not," he said, pinching his nose and trying to keep his voice low. "Renna, I'm not giving up on you because you're not dead yet." Now, he lifted her off the table where she was now lying flat. The woman was lighter than expected... she had definitely lost weight, a lot more than was healthy for her.
She looked into his eyes and laughed hard, as if in mockery of his words. A blast of booze hit his face like a fermented cloud. "Of course... of course I am."
"No," Zayn snapped, waving the sour air from his nose. "No, you're not. Elliot Gwenneth is dead. Not you."
The words seemed to bring the woman back a bit, because it looked as if he'd slapped her in the face. Not the reaction that was expected, but at least it looked like she could see him now. Renna glared at the general now. "Don't you think I fucking know that? Don't you talk about my brother."
Zayn raised his brow. "Renna, listen to me. You're digging your grave beside him now. Do you really want that?"
A barmaid quickly delivered their food, not bothering to interrupt them.
"Yes!" she yelled, drawing a few gazes to their table. "What the hell else do I have to live for?" Her voice went soft as she lamented. "Everyone I love disappears. My brother died, Irila died, she was my best friend," Renna hiccupped now, tears shining in her eyes. "And the child... oh, the child... the girl is gone. My beautiful niece is gone. Elliot's daughter is gone now. Forever."
Zayn sighed. "Iris is fine. She's going to be back in a few months. You haven't lost her. You still have Iris, Renna."
Bitterness stole the sobs from the woman. "Not Iris, you fool. The other one," she snapped, and then she tittered back to crying. "That poor girl. Taken from us. Too soon. Too soon. Away... far, far away. Curse the bastard who took her!" Zayn now was entirely confused. Renna had lost her damn mind, that was for sure.
"What are you on about? Iris is an only child, Renna. You're drunk. You need to go home."
"The other child," she whispered before she promptly fell face first into her eggs. A moment later, a snore erupted from them. Zayn shook his head and rubbed his brow-bone. Methodically, he stood from his seat, laid the payment for the food on the table, and hoisted the unconscious Renna over his shoulder. On the way out, he gave the maid several coins for her trouble.
He brought her all the way home like that and laid her on her bed. How long had it been since she'd slept here? He shook his head and just covered her with a blanket.
His curiosity got the best of him. He fully expected Renna was full of garbage, but what if she wasn't? Neither Iris nor Renna had went into Elliot's room since the night of his death, but the general fully intended to now. When he walked in, he found that the entire room was already covered in a thin layer of dust.
Not bothering to disturb many things, Zayn looked for any proof that Renna wasn't totally bat-shit crazy. Fifteen minutes... and he found nothing. He chuckled and shook his head at his foolishness. In fact, he was giving up the search when he found it... a box. A box with Irila Gwenneth's, Iris's mother, name written delicately on it.
Zayn thought better than to mess with it. After all, the box seemed to scream "off-limits". But, oh that curiosity... He pulled the box down.
Carefully, he separated its contents. From what he could tell, it was a random assortment of her things. From old books and dresses to simple knick-knacks and keepsakes. He laid each piece to the side, making sure not to break anything. It was then that he found something. It was hidden at nearly the bottom of the box, but still, it was there: a broken frame.
Zayn dusted it off, careful not to cut himself on the glass.
And there, he found a painting of the Gwenneth family dated back a little over twenty years ago. A younger Elliot and Irila stood proudly in the back of the image, the woman smiling as she proudly held a tiny infant that Zayn expected was Iris. And sitting on Elliot's shoulders was a piece of damning evidence indeed... in the form of what looked like a girl of seven or eight with long and streaming black hair and a wide smile.
Oh, yes. There was indeed another child.
----
The young girl huffed, running forward as fast as her small feet could carry her. Through the family orchard, and across the yard, she was fast. Her speed picked up even more at the sight of her destination: her father, who stood clad in armor with a sword at his side. Elliot Gwenneth noticed the charging little girl immediately, and he braced himself for his daughter to jump into his arms.
And she did. Upon impact, Elliot's heavily muscled arms lifted the girl straight off the ground, who laughed tremendously as she held her arms out wide. To the girl, it felt like she was flying high indeed.
"Dad! You're home!" she cried. "I've been waiting on you for five whole weeks! It feels like forever since I saw you!"
"Still as bouncy as ever aren't you, little Cricket?"
Now, Irila Gwenneth walked outside, holding a baby in her arms. For a moment, she admired the scene. Seeing Elliot filled her heart with happiness. She watched as he lifted the girl to his full height and spun her around three times. The army camp had really done well to fill him out, she noticed. The once almost-lanky man now bore muscles all over. While she knew that it meant he would leave again soon to fight, she didn't deny that the strength suited him.
"My darling," the woman finally said, walking over to kiss his cheek. "You look well."
He put down the girl and hugged his wife's waist. "Yeah, I guess so. At least something good came out of this draft, eh?" Now, he looked down at the baby and fingered her little hands. "What a beautiful little girl she'll be. Look at those big eyes... just like yours, Irila," Elliot remarked with a kind smile.
"Dad, pay attention to me!" came a small voice from his side. Elliot's gaze was drawn to the girl they'd nick-named Cricket long ago. It warmed his heart that she was still as lively and chirpy as she'd been when he'd left. Gods, he hated to leave her again.
Cricket touched his sword. "Dad, you know how to use a sword now! Don't you? You're like one of those knights in the books that mom reads me!"
"Yes, ma'am. And you're my little princess. You and your sister both."
"But I wanna be a knight too, dad! I don't wanna be a princess anymore." The girl's nose wrinkled at the suggestion. This made her father laugh loudly and pat her on the head. He shook his head in amusement.
"Oh, do you now?" he mused. "But knights have to wear armor and swing swords at the scary bad guys. Are you sure you wanna get the bad guys, little Cricket?"
"Yes!" The answer wasn't unexpected to Elliot. The girl had always dreamed big. So full of fire, she was. "Dad, I wanna be a knight too. I wanna wear armor and carry a sword and get all the dragons and bad guys! So that means that you have to teach me how to use a sword now that you know!"
"One day. When you're older." Elliot consoled the girl... or at least tried to console her. She shook her head in defiance.
"Today!" she demanded. "Right now!" And then, softer. "Please, dad?"
"Now, now" Irila was the one to interrupt her daughter. "It's dinner time, Cricket girl. You know what that means. It's time for you to watch your sister while I make dinner." Her mother's voice was soft and kind, but still, it was irksome to the fiery little girl. Oh how she hated being told what to do, especially what chores to do.
"I don't wanna watch Iris," she pouted, "I watched her every day since she was born, I did! All she does is sleep... and poop... and cry. That's it. She doesn't need to be watched. Let me learn how to use a sword!"
"Listen to your mother," Elliot said and patted Cricket's back. "If you go watch your sister, I promise I'll show you how to use a sword."
The girl's eyes flashed up to her father. "When?"
"Well... that depends."
Cricket was eager now, pressing her father for more answers. "Depends on what, dad?"
"How fast you and your mother can get Iris in her crib," he said with a wink. And just like that, when the girl recognized the command, she leapt into action, all but pulling her mother along behind her. How badly she wanted to know how to use the sword. She could beat all the boys if she knew! They had to be fast. Cricket grinned. She was certainly fast. But her mother? Her mother had to hurry!
"We have to go, mom!" she called out. "We have to hurry!"
And just like that, the family settled into their normal routine as if Elliot had never left for the training camp. Irila began cooking dinner with Elliot, who mainly stood and talked to her as she worked. As for Cricket, she sat bored in front of the baby crib. Iris simply stared at her sister with tiny, curious eyes.
"I can't wait until you grow up," Cricket said to the infant, absentmindedly playing with one of Iris's feet. "That way, you can watch yourself. And wipe your own bottom. And talk to me too, maybe." The girl liked the last idea. Despite her hesitance to keep an eye on the baby, she still loved her sister. She couldn't wait for Iris to find her own personality so that she could play with Cricket.
The little girl absentmindedly went on with her rambling. "Maybe one day, dad will teach you how to use the sword too." Cricket stopped herself in order to observe the lacy frills Irila had dressed the baby in --that and the infant's tiny curls and shell-colored lips. Now, the young Cricket laughed. "Or perhaps you'll be the princess! And I'll have to protect you from all the bad guys!"
The baby cooed and grinned a toothless grin at her sister, seeming to like the last idea. Or perhaps she felt the mirth of the words. At that point, Cricket didn't know. All Cricket knew was that she smiled back at the sweet little Iris.
"Yeah, that's right!" the girl kept on, "I will! Once dad teaches me how to use a sword, I promise!"
More laughter... and then seriousness.
"I promise to protect you, little sister. Forever and ever and ever. And ever."
A/N -- Had a couple of you ready for this story to have a curve-ball. Well, here it is. Here marks where the real story starts happening! Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think below!