This room. The Grand Room. The room where the Council of the Twined meets, each royal sibling sitting in their rightful seat around the Ring table. If one were to observe the room itself, they would notice that the large rectangular room had a ceiling higher than any ceiling on this floor of the castle— higher even than the ceiling of the ballroom. The ceiling was arched and laden with vividly colored tiles in a rich pattern across its body. The arches ran down from the ceiling to columns affixed to the walls, ribbing the room. In the center of the space was a moderately sized table in the shape of a hollow circle, surrounded by six chairs, two of them draped with ornamental silks and laces to signify celebration and importance.
Young Mortier's eyes, the color of fine chocolate from Morrin, landed on her twin brother in the left-most empty chair, and then followed the ring of the table around to her other older siblings. Six chairs, six young rulers sitting in the long-since relinquished seats of their forebears. Their mother and her seven siblings. Her eyes found Kessian's head as she stepped forwards to sit to his right.
Then her eyes found Iligor to Kessian's left, her next oldest brother; slender and draped in furs, with a tamed goatee and wavy black hair combed back over his ears, cushioning a silver and emerald crown composed of two twisting bodies of silver snakes with gems tucked into the folds of their crossing bodies. He was nineteen cycles old, with eyes as brown as those you might see in any child of Tilian and Forlan. Kinder than any of his siblings, but he was a child of lesser responsibility to match.
Across from him sat Uedien, the second youngest sister; just as slender as Iligor, and thirteen cycles old. Long raven hair lay flowing down her shoulders like liquid night spilling over shadow-fallen ground. She wore a dress of long sleeves and long train, black as night and embroidered with silver, each crossing of silver thread on the bosom of her dress punctured with a small emerald. Her cheeks were rosy and her smile was soft, if a bit vague at times. Hiligan often had to help her with her studies, though Hiligan had endless patience for his siblings. A crown of snakes sat upon her head as well, this time two snakes biting the same green jewel in the center.
To fair Uedien's right sat Hiligan, the second oldest sibling. He had a black beard as long as his hair, reaching down to his shoulders and pulled into a careful braid in front. He was chatting with a few nobles from his seat, a goblet in his thick black-gloved hand. He was tall and muscular, though his middle was a bit round. He had scars from the battles he's lead against Barlden, the Crow King of the Grescian Plains, back when the two kingdoms were fighting. His laugh was infectious, though, and it pushed a grin onto Mortier's own face as she watched three of the people speaking with Hiligan laugh with him. Upon his head was a crown of silver latticed snakes, so thin that you wouldn't know them to be snakes unless you were close. Slotted in along the top of the crown were green gems in the eyes of each upward-curling snake.
Filling the last seat at the Ring table was Jaldien, Hiligan's twin sister. She was twenty-three cycles old to match Hiligan. She was of broader stature to match him as well, with hair that stopped when it curled inwards along her chin in a neat line. Her crown was silver spikes, snakes weaving through and around them, draped in fine chains that hung down around Jaldien's head and dangled with little green tear-drop gems. Jaldien was the head of the Ring table, and the eldest sister of the six siblings. She took their mother's place at the table, and Hiligan took the seat beside her. Together they made decisions for the kingdom as their siblings one by one grew old enough to also join. Jaldien was merciful but responsible, and knew the boundaries of herself and her people. What the kingdom was capable of, and what she would not stand for. Jaldien has always had Hiligan's support, and Hiligan Jaldien's. They could often be found together, and Hiligan was always the best at making Jaldien smile.
Each sibling, now, sat at the Ring Table.
Each seat was finally filled, after a little more than a Tion— ten Moon Cycles. Around the room were curved tables and benches from which all seated could see the Ring table in the room's center. These benches were less permanent, but often present nonetheless. These curved tables formed a segmented series of circles that got broader the further out they became. Mortier couldn't decide on what to look at, but lifted her head upwards to see Nima and Ysrand standing behind her chair, talking quietly. They both turn their gazes down when they see the contortion of the finely-styled head, and offer up warm smiles. Both Nima and Ysrand had been serving her since her birth, and often accompanied her on her antics. Each Sibling had a personal servant and guard, and to be without them was a rare occurrence. Mortier spotted Gjirdir and Berlorn sitting at one of the closer benches as well, giving and receiving a smile from them both.
Each sibling, now, sat at the Ring Table.
Kessian's chest bubbled with anticipation, but he carefully kept himself calm in expression, hands folded in his lap and eyes as cool as ever. Jorgoff and Yetsh stood behind his chair, one stoic and the other looking excited enough for the three of them, wringing his hands. Jorgoff quietly conversed with Touslehan, Iligor's personal servant. Both young boys bounced on their toes and giggled with nerves, waiting for the ceremony to start. "It's not a long thing," Touslehan waved a hand, eyes bright. "But the party—"
"I love the party," Jorgoff agreed with an enthusiastic nod of his shaggy-haired head. Jorgoff widened his mouth to continue speaking, but suddenly all the room fell into silence.
Jaldien and Hiligan had gotten to their feet, and now Iligor and Uedian stand as well. A mix of excitement and pride glowed within each set of brown eyes, and each royal guard fell to one knee, heads down. Nima and Jorgoff took tense breaths and slowly walked to two pedestals that had been moved to either sides of the large entrance doors. Each lifted up a crown from the pedestal and started to slowly walk back, standing behind the chairs of their respective Lord and Lady.
"Today, all six heads of the Grescian Snake sit at the Ringed Table in the Council hall," Hiligan lifted his hand to call attention from where he stood, head held proud. "Today, our youngest siblings, Lord Kessian and Lady Mortier, will join us around the table for as long as this council may stand." Jaldien, then, raised her head as well. With a quiet excitement, warm as her familiar voice, she smiled at her littlest siblings. "Kessian, Mortier. Take to your feet, my brother and sister."
Kessian's feet practically tingled as he stood upon them, placing his hands on the surface of the table. He heard Mortier take a sharp breath in beside him, and could practically feel her excitement vibrate beside him. It made his own emotions swell, but he quickly quieted them down.
"Now, Mortier and Kessian. Twins in life, and youngest of the Snake Siblings. We grace you with your birthright: a crown and a seat at the Ring table, as a part of the Council of Snakes to rule over this fair kingdom." Jaldien's voice rings out again, her goblet still held high. Nima and Jorgoff lifted the crowns, hovering the glittering headpieces over the heads of their rulers.
Hiligan, now, raised his goblet alongside his twin's. "Now, Mortier and Kessian, we grace you with your birthright, and ask this of you: Do you pledge to stand beside your brothers and sisters of the Snake Council, through celebrations and disagreements?" He set his bearded smile on them, quiet contentment and pride.
"Now," Iligor slipped his fingers around the stem of his goblet and raised it above his head. "Mortier and Kessian, we grace you with your birthright, and ask this of you: Do you pledge to uphold the values and well-being of your siblings, kingdom, and its people in all your years of being on the council?" The vows changed from Council to council, devised by the siblings that came before as they welcomed their next siblings— or if it was for the first of the next Council's generation, then the Council parent of the new set of children. Each sibling here came up with their line. The vows rarely change much in their foundation, but they fluctuate slightly from crowning to crowning.
Uedian followed Iligor in raising her wine-filled goblet, and Kessian watched the small droplet of red fly down to the table in her over-enthusiasm. "Now, Mortier and Kessian," she said loudly, barely containing the excited quiver in her voice as she spoke, big eyes on the twelve-cycle-olds. "We grace you with your birthright, and ask this of you: Do you pledge to do what is right for this kingdom, despite the cost to yourself, whether others will know of it or not?"
Kessian lifted his eyes from that little red stain on the dark table to the eyes of his older siblings. He could feel the people around them staring, their eyes boring into them. He felt Mortier lift her left hand to grasp his right, and had to force his eyes to remain relaxed. "Yes," Kessian lifted his chin with as much dignity as he could muster, while Mortier smiled and nodded slightly. "I do," she echoed, grinning wider when teeth cracked through Jaldien's smile. The eldest sister lifted her chin. "Then take up your goblets my siblings, in celebration of your many years to come at this table!"
Kessian's heart leapt to his throat and he reached his left hand to lift his goblet up, feeling a weight settle on his head as Jorgoff lowered the crown onto the raven locks of his skull. A single silver snake, curling clockwise with a large green jewel in its unhinged mouth at the front. Mortier's was the same, but the snake was moving counter-clockwise.
The crowd around them broke into cheers and applause as each sibling lifted the goblet with big grins. Jaldien set hers down on the table, watching her siblings drink from the goblets. Her dark brown eyes found her mother and father sitting on one of the nearer curved benches. They caught her eyes and smiled widely, lifting their goblets and clapping.
Kessian felt the wine. It was dark to look at and cold against his closed lips. In the shadows of his silver bejeweled goblet, the liquid nearly looked black. Kessian drank none of it, lowering his goblet and setting the fancy cup on the table. His eyes landed on each swallowing sibling, then Jaldien. Panic flared up like a dove in his chest, anxious to be out of a cage. He took a slow breath and lifted his head, taking comfort in the heavy crown on his head. There was time. There was time. He turned to Jorgoff, stepping away from his chair, only to see his idiot servant grinning from ear to ear. Kessian lifted a brow, then stubbornly tried to suppress a smile at his long-time friend. "Get that look off your face, you overgrown hen," Kessian huffed, but there was no venom in the words.
"Ah, my liege, how could I? When that crown upon your head inspires so much beauty and joy within this weak heart of mine?" Jorgoff mourned dramatically, sweeping his hands across his chest. He quietly celebrated his victory when Kessian choked on a snort, lifting the back of his ringed hand to his mouth. He then swatted his servant, a comfortable smile on his face. "Oh, enough of you! Gods save me from your witless humor."
Suddenly a different kind of cry rippled across the crowd. Kessian snapped his gaze over, quickly searching for Jaldien. Instead he found the commotion centered around Mortier. His twin had been talking to a couple of the nobles, receiving her congratulations. Now she stood doubled and wheezing, a hand around her middle and another on her mouth. Her silver and emerald crown had toppled to the ground, just minutes after it'd been placed. Kessian watched Mortier's servant— Nima, he thought her name was— rush over to Mortier just as his sister collapsed. The attention quickly shifted to Uedian and Iligor. Iligor trembled, struggling to keep himself up on the table as his servant and royal guard each grabbed his arm, panic on their faces. Uedian had collapsed back into her chair and started groaning and whimpering in pain, clutching at her body.
Hiligan was on his way to Uedian to his left when suddenly he stumbled, catching himself on the table. He puffed, banging a fist on his chest before growling. Teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut, he fell to his hands and knees, clawing at the ground. Jaldien stood frozen, watching her siblings curl up, bewildered. Kessian listened to Jaldien call loudly above the now frantic din of the Round Room for the physician in the benches, and felt his heart hammer on his ribs. There is no time. There were eyes on every one of them. He could feel Jorgoff watch him in fear of seeing Kessian fall to his knees like his siblings.
Kessian started hearing murmurs of 'the wine.' Obviously he hadn't been the only one paying attention. Jaldien looked up from Hiligan as he was supported by his guard and servant, half-dragged out of the room after the other three royals. Jaldien looked to the goblet at Hiligan's place, then at her own. Her horrified brown eyes found Kessian's, and something changed in her. Something Kessian didn't like. But he couldn't start acting now— this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Jaldien liked red wine more than Hiligan did.
"Kessian."
Her voice cut through his thoughts. He had lost track of himself— hadn't noticed the step back he'd taken, practically into Jorgoff's chest. He felt his servant's hands on his shoulders and suddenly felt weak. His stomach twisted in on itself and he felt his head grow light, swimming with nausea.
"We need to go," Kessian rasped faintly, and he knew from the look on Jaldien's face that he had lost his nerve. Disbelief, dismay, horror, and rage all crossed Jaldien's eyes, and Kessian couldn't stand to look at them a moment more. Yetsh looked at him from the corner of her dark eyes. She slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, then shoved him back towards the door. "Go!" she hissed, but Kessian hardly needed the encouragement. Yetsh quickly followed behind her charge's footsteps, and Jorgoff— poor, sweet Jorgoff— fumbled after them in a tizzy, calling Kessian's name. The youngest boy heard Jaldien wail 'stop him!' from the room behind, and his mouth ran dry.
Yetsh pulled the twelve-cycled boy off the ground, because she could run faster than he. "Jorgoff," she snapped, eyes intense as she looked down at the puffing servant. "The stables. Go. Now!" Jorgoff didn't say a word as he parted from them, sprinting down a hallway to the left while Yetsh dashed ahead into a courtyard with Kessian in her arms.
Kessian could hear the march of armored footsteps behind them. Twisting in Yetsh's arms, he looked back over her shoulder to see the troupe of castle guards chasing after them. Kessian's hand rose to hold onto the crown curling around his head, watching the guards with big, shocked eyes. "Halt! You cannot do this! Leave- leave us alone!" the boy shouted, mustering up his failing authority. To no avail. The guards spoke not, faces invisible beneath the helmets atop their heads. Their armor clanked in unison, like each guard was of the same mind. Normally seeing the guards was a silent comfort he took for granted. They were always quiet, strong, and unmovable. It felt like nothing could ever fell them.
Now, though... now the inspiration had soured into fear. Horrible, numbing fear. The type to make your knees tremble and your throat clench and your belly flip over in knotted bundles that keep trying to rise up through your throat. Kessian watched Yetsh glance back as well, a quiet and hurried snarl bubbling out of her throat. The boy's belly lurched when she vaulted over a half-wall that ran a ring around the courtyard, feet thundering down the tiles of a hallway, walls nothing but open arches overlooking a steep cliff down. The castle sat in the lap of the mountains, and the terrain was treacherous if faced without caution.
Kessian turned his gaze away from the knights chasing after them, ignoring the quiet orders they rasped to one another. He stared down the hallway, but a bitter bile rose to his tongue when he saw the gleam of more running armor making its way down the hall. The thought of vaulting an arched window didn't even occur to Kessian as a sane option, though Yetsh didn't hesitate in tossing herself feet-first over the half-wall and curling around her charge as the two tumbled arm over leg down the cliff-side.
Stillness.
Everything ached— Kessian's fingers were curled tight around the silver and emerald snake of a crown, his small body clenched to Yetsh's belly. His head had banged into her armored chest with no small degree of force, and vaguely Kessian pondered how many times he hit his head on the chaotic trip down the rocky hill. Yetsh spoke something, but he couldn't quite catch it. No, Kessian was too busy trying to blink away the screaming ring in his ears. What he did hear, though, was the distorted voices at the wall now above them. Helmeted heads peered down the steep hill, turning towards each other in uncertainty. Vaguely Kessian celebrated. There's no way they'd be stupid enough to follow them down here. Jumping down themselves was a stupid idea, he thought. The smile that had pushed its way to his face died in a flash of iron. He watched a knight fling out an arm with what he could only assume to be an order to the others before hoisting himself over the wall, landing on his feet and starting to half-run, half-slide down the rocky cliff in a cascade of flint shards and dust.
The raven-haired prince could feel his heart beat in every limb. He could feel its panicked rhythm in his eyes, his head, his throat. He felt sick, he felt light, and at the same time he felt nothing. Headache forgotten, Kessian jerked his head up and brought a palm to Yetsh's face. The woman's eyes had been opened, but they were glossy and far away. Now they blinked and glowered, quickly gathering her surroundings. The bright hazel eyes shot open when they saw the gleaming knight coming closer, with the others following behind with varying degrees of success. There were a couple who lost their footing and began their own painful descent down the cliff, but a number stayed on their feet.
Yetsh once more hoisted Kessian up in one arm, pushing herself up with another to run down the rest of the hillside. The boy got a nice view of the knights gaining on them from Yetsh' arm. He watched them in silence, holding onto his personal guard. Kessian's breath quivered in his chest, and all the thoughts fled from his usually so rational mind. This wasn't supposed to happen. This isn't how it was supposed to go. "They're going to kill us," he whispered, and the pursued prince closed his eyes.