That was the first time ever when I was kidnapped, but somehow, in that hazy fog of drugged sleep, I began to recall other childhood memories.

Memories I wished to erase, with a consuming guilt that I couldn’t ignore.

It reminded me of a time when I was drunk on bitterness, as angry at Marcus as I was at Adrianne. That day, I had forgotten all reason and sanity, completely hellbent on destroying something precious to me.

We had often visited Cheverton on family outings when Marcus was a child. Casual picnics were as commonplace as Inspections back then, even if it wasn’t the season for such things. From what I recall, Father preferred the peaceful town as opposed to the bustling metropolis that was the capital of the Hestion dukedom, his eyes sparkling at the mention of another Inspection.

Father always brought three guards at the most, wearing the Hestion coat of arms and disguising himself as one of the senior knights, perhaps a co-captain along with Evander, and Mother joined in his charade. She dressed down alongside him, donning clothes which were paler and simpler by design. They suited her better than those stiff dresses she would wear, offsetting her beautiful black hair and glowing blue eyes, yet I did not have the courage to ever utter those words to her.

She was still as much a stranger then as she was now, after Marcus was born.

She would often stay near the stalls that sold fruit or flowers, conversing mildly with the townsfolk about flower arrangements, bringing bouquets of pristine roses, pink camellias and lilacs for Father. If not that, then perhaps it would be a fantastical snack meant for Marcus, such as cotton candy or dango or a new toy.

She never really spoke to me like she did the commoners after Marcus was born. What did I matter to her anyway?

Regardless of her feelings, our last cavalcade was four harvests before I was expelled from the school. It was during the winter, around the solstice festival where the townsfolk held a procession down the streets as we welcomed in the shortest night of the year.

I was with Marcus then, holding hands in the crowd and Father walked on ahead of us. Our hoods were pulled up high, covering our faces and we were practically hidden as the guards hedged around us.

Brilliant fireworks lit up the sky with the stars, dancing before our eyes as the yelling and screaming of the people boomed around us. My favourite part of the festivities were the whistles and fiddles playing alongside the drum, the couples all dancing around without a care in the world.

They spun around each other, like vines that had overtaken a wall to cover each stone in a myriad of brightly coloured leaves, their clothes fluttering as the winds carried the tune to the tallest windows.

Their laughter was infectious and fairly soon, Mother and Father also joined alongside them all, dancing as happily as any other couple. They seemed so normal then, so human and free. It was completely different in the manor; everyone was on edge and tense when Father came home.

At the time, I simply wanted to live in that one moment, when we didn’t have to focus on anything else and simply existed as we were - a happy family.

I had heard of Father growing up amongst the commoners during his childhood. Those glimpses where his smile radiated into the crowds were often proof of those rumours, I believed, but I don’t know if anyone could confirm it exactly, nor deny it. Even Mother, the queen of high society, had difficulty in verifying that, but Marcus and I were content back then - his wry smile twitching upwards was enough for us.

In those days, I believe I was still taller than Marcus, about the height of a market stall and thinner than a lamp post with him being small and cute, like a button. Father had bought me a plush rabbit, a beautiful fluffy brown while Mother got Marcus a soldier.

As we walked along the streets, jostled by large flocks of people moving in droves, my precious baby brother tugged at me. He pointed towards a stall, eyes alight with mischief, as he dragged me over to the colourful toys and shimmering jewellery hanging from the support beam.

"Marcus, we have to go back! Come now."

"I want!" He pointed at a toy, not looking at me.

"No, brother. We have to go back to Father now."

"But I want!"

A dangerous ire overtook me. Father and Mother had disappeared, the guards nowhere to be found. The booming fireworks seemed to swallow my words, forcing me to scream in his face as the shrieks and peals of laughter grew louder and louder.

"Marcus, that's enough! Let's go now." I roared. I believe I practically yanked his arm away, dragging him to the street intersection.

The child began to weep, crying as my knuckles turned white. His wrist began to bruise lightly, growing more and more limp as the blood stopped circulating.

Mother and Father were gone. The spirit of the festival had all but stolen my parents and yet here I was, attempting to get a spoiled brat to yield.

"Oh no..."

I muttered, picking up the boy. Our hoods flew off for a moment until I tugged them back on, giving him my plushie to hold as we walked. His head rested on mine, his dark hair tickling my face as we walked on to heaven knows where.

We wandered the streets without any idea of where we were going, unaware of the eyes that watched us. I could hear nothing but the noise, the loud, boisterous laughter and the shrieking of children and I smelled nothing but the dizzying scents of food that made my head light with nausea. The moon had then reached its peak by then, midnight striking and bathing the town in a beautiful glow.

At last, we turned onto a dead alley, away from that consuming festival spirit and into a tense, burdened silence.

There was nowhere left to go.

What now, Eliza? There is no one here. You might be kidnapped along with Marcus, or even killed at this rate.

Fear crackled in my veins, tightening its icy grip. My blood ran cold. Marcus sat wearily on the paths, his head drooping over the bunny as he whimpered in pain.

Perhaps... I could leave him here?

I paused.

Now there was a thought. If I left him here, no one would know. Then Mother would come back to me again. It would be as it once was - as it should be. There was no need to put up with him either - he would only ever cause me trouble...

At that time, in the darkness of the alley, a tinge of black pleasure rushed through me. It could all go back to how it was. I could be with Mother again.

I knelt down, praying for my hands to stop shaking as I held his arm.

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"Marcus... stay here, brother. I'm going to find Mother."

His eyes widened, grabbing onto my sleeve.

"NO! Sister, no leave!"

Poor child...

I pulled his hand away, "Silly boy, we'll never find them if we stay here. There is no one around who can help us."

A new voice echoed into the quieter alley, shattering the silence.

"‘Says who?"

I turned suddenly, glancing around. Up there, on the alley's wall was a boy around my height. He sat up like a cat, with black hair and greenish eyes, twirling a small switchblade in his hand.

Eliza, you fool! What were you just about to do?!

Guilt immediately ate up at me as I regained my senses, alert and on edge. My poor, naïve little brother hid behind me with the plush bunny and the wooden soldier in his hands.

"Says me. Who are you?" I asked.

He hopped down, crouching as he bounced onto his feet. Dirt was smeared across his face, unkempt hair hidden under a ratty old hat and he twirled the blade around his fingers with ease.

"You're on my turf, you answer my questions. Who are you?"

He didn't seem to joke around. The blade glinted in the moonlight as I shifted my weight. Shadows bled out of the alley slowly, small children in similar ratty clothes emerging from the darkness.

I backed up again, keeping Marcus behind me.

My brother, my precious little brother... I'm sorry, I’m so sorry... What was I thinking?!

Keeping the tears at bay, I grit my teeth to answer him.

"Mia. This is Robin. Can I ask who you are now?"

Marcus looked up at me in confusion, his honey brown hair shining pale as the moon crept on her way overhead.

"No, you're not. Who are you?"

The stranger edged closer, holding the blade until we were backed up against the wall.

"I already told you!"

"No, you didn't. You lied. The boy can't keep a straight face either."

Fear rushed at me as I raised my hackles.

I don't think I can fight them all off. Oberon above, please forgive me... help us.

The other children in the alley closed in as well, keeping behind the boy in front of us but only barely. I counted seven heads in all, besides the boy.

"But I didn't! Ma- Robin's just like that around strangers!" I pleaded, panicking slightly. Marcus' grip on my sleeve tightened until I took his hand.

You're as good as dead now.

I pushed the trepidation down.

"Lie one more time, lass," he growled, "and I slit you from tip to toe. Who. Are. You."

The blade was pointed directly at me, gleaming as the wicked edge laughed in the darkness.

Sanity finally came back to me as I finally conceded.

"...Eliza. This one's name is Marcus. Please, just help us find our parents."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Eliza." He tested my name once, pondering. "Why should I help you? You lied thrice over about your names. You even planned on leaving your own brother behind too, like a snake."

My eyes widened.

That's not what happened. I wouldn't dare. Not to my own brother.

But you did, didn't you? You wanted to go to how things were?

No. He's mistaken. What does he know, anyway? We only just met. He must be mistaken.

"No! No, I-"

"You ought to hide your eyes if you expect to get away with it." He scoffed.

"Shut up! You're wrong! I wasn't trying to-"

"Sister..? You want... leave me?"

I turned to him, forgetting the boy behind me.

"No, no, Marcus. I would never. I would... never..." I hugged him, holding him in my arms.

Skarabeck, forgive me. Please, forgive me...

For the first time since his birth, I had grieved heavily for something I never even did. The guilt would never leave me for as long as that memory stayed in my mind and the regret was ever consuming. Every echo of bitter envy I felt towards him was always accompanied by that regret, until eventually I could no longer face the boy at all.

"Just... Help us find our parents. The ones in the Hestion armour. We got lost near a stall earlier. Please... just help us."

I dare not turn to face the boy, only keeping my precious little brother in front of me. His pained eyes were filled with small tears, soaked into the bunny as he held it tight.

I hope to the heavens that he forgets this.

An arrogant laugh echoed from behind me, "Boys! You know what to do. And you," he spun me around to face him, handing me a dirty cloth, "just remember to fix your mistakes. Name's Vix."

The children in the alley scattered fast, racing over walls and buildings as they disappeared from sight.

"Vix... Thank you..." I didn't even realise I was crying then, but the relief that followed his small offering was not small by any means. I accepted the cloth, drying my eyes, before passing it back, "You'll probably need it more than I do."

Vix had a grimy face, but his rough attitude didn't hide his friendlier smile. His blade was tucked away into his pocket as he picked up Marcus, keeping him steady on his back as we made our way out of the alley.

By that point, the streets had cleared as the procession moved on. The stillness of the town square stunned me compared to the din they caused just hours earlier.

Another boy ran back towards Vix, whispering into his ear until we made our way across the plaza.

"You owe me for this one, by the way. I want a nice meal and gold coins to spare."

I scoffed, "Of course, of course. You're right. I can treat you right now, if you like. I doubt Mother would let us come back here after this mess."

He laughed loudly again, trying to keep Marcus from falling off his shoulder. The poor child was asleep, exhausted, and his toys were practically falling out of his hands.

We walked up to another market stall where lamb ribs and steamed pork buns were cooking, the smell drifting over to us. I remember buying him three large buns and two ribs, watching as he scoffed them down before handing him a napkin.

We were sitting on the fountain at the edge of the plaza, the water streaming gently into the basin to give a soft bubbling sound. The moon was now three quarters of her way to the horizon and some light pink tinged the skies above.

It will soon be Dawn... and then I'll never see Vix again.

I raised my hand, clenching a fist, "Here. Fifteen golds."

"You keep it."

What?

"You asked for them."

"Don't need them. You gotta find a way back anyway."

"Please, I don't need them as much as you, you git! I'm the daughter of a duke, for crying out loud; money grows on trees, for all I care. Take them anyway." I shoved the coins into his pocket, picking up Marcus as we both got to our feet.

"I'm not a git! Off with you now. You'll find the Hestion guards down the street, to the north. Should be near the entrance of the wheat fields though. Jester's saying that they think you're lost in the farm somewhere."

"Thanks. In that case, take this as well."

A small silver ring gleamed in the light, unadorned with anything but a single ruby in the centre. It was worn and old, with scratches in the metalwork, but Mother somehow saw fit to give me something that was too big to wear.

"I can't. This is too much."

"Take it, or I'll yell at the guards that you kidnapped me."

"Hag."

I pinched his side, causing him to flinch as he pocketed the ring.

As we turned away, he sang a light tune from the temple, disappearing into another alley and over the wall. The townsfolk were now all settled into their homes, burrowing into their beds as the sun peered over the hills.

"Oh, my baby Starling! Where have you been?!"

"We were lost in the crowds, Father. Forgive us."

Father's armour gleamed as I stumbled towards them and they to us. Mother's henpecked worrying cost me a few hours in lectures, but she hugged us both as she cried.

In the end, I was not allowed out of Father's sight again on our outings, but then again, I never tried to leave, either; Father's face was contorted in so much worry that I was shook to my core.

He never deserved a scare like that, my father. I had never felt so much regret and guilt as I had in that moment, but I somehow kept the hope that the heavens had forgiven me for my sin. I never told Marcus of that day, either.

Mother made sure to keep us separated and rarely ventured to Cheverton again.

My poor little brother... he trusted me too much back then.