The day had finally arrived. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the castle grounds. Inside Caer Thalion, the atmosphere was one of restrained excitement. The servants moved about with quiet smiles, and the guards exchanged nods, aware that today marked a turning point for the royal family. After months of whispered conversations and hopeful glances, Eamon would finally be introduced to his sisters.

In the grand corridor outside the nursery, Isolde, Morwen, Elspeth, and Ailsa stood in a line, their eyes fixed on the heavy oak door that separated them from their brother. Each of them bore features reminiscent of their mother—fair skin, freckles scattered across their cheeks, and eyes that held the depth of the highland lakes. Their hair, ranging in shades of auburn to dark brown, framed faces that were both fierce and gentle, embodying the strong yet nurturing spirit their mother had passed down to them.

"Are you sure this is really happening?" Elspeth asked in a hushed voice, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress nervously. Her hair, a deep chestnut, hung in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes were wide with a mix of excitement and fear. Despite her age, she had an air of quiet grace about her, her expressions often thoughtful beyond her years.

"Yes," Isolde replied firmly, though her own heart was pounding in her chest. She had been preparing for this moment as if it were a royal ceremony. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat braid, and her posture was upright, a reflection of the sense of responsibility that had been ingrained in her from a young age. Her gaze was strong yet softened with a flicker of vulnerability. "The healers said he's strong enough now. We need to be calm and gentle with him. This will be new for him."

Morwen snorted softly, rolling her eyes. She was the spirited one, full of energy and impatience. Her hair was a wild tangle of reddish curls that framed her face, giving her an untamed look that perfectly matched her personality. Her eyes, a striking hazel, glinted with mischief as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "Oh, come on, Isolde. He's our brother, not some porcelain doll. How 'calm' do you want us to be?"

"Calm enough not to scare him," Isolde replied sternly. "You can be enthusiastic, but—"

"I'm not going to jump at him," Morwen cut in, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and challenge. "But I will make sure he knows we're not boring."

Ailsa giggled at this, her eyes shining with mischief. She and her twin Elspeth were the youngest, yet Ailsa was already full of fiery determination. Her hair, a lighter shade of auburn than Morwen’s, was tied into two pigtails that bounced with every movement. She swung a small, carved wooden sword lightly in her hands, something she had insisted on bringing. "Will he like to play knights?" she asked, her voice brimming with the innocence of childhood. "Because I want to show him how to fight."

"Ailsa," Isolde said with a sigh, her tone edging on exasperation. "Not today. Remember, we talked about this. Eamon has been in his room all his life. We need to take things slowly."

Ailsa pouted, looking down at her sword. Her blue eyes, usually full of fierce energy, softened in disappointment. "But he might like it," she muttered under her breath, glancing up at Isolde hopefully.

Elspeth, the quieter of the twins, stepped closer to Ailsa and put a hand on her arm. Her soft, brown eyes met Ailsa's, and she offered a small, calming smile. "Maybe one day, Ailsa," she said gently. "For now, we just need to show him we’re his family." Elspeth's demeanor was always serene, carrying a quiet wisdom that often balanced out her sister's fiery spirit. She had brought a small bouquet of flowers from the garden, intending to present it to Eamon as a gesture of peace.

"Isolde's right," Elspeth added, turning to Morwen and Isolde. "He doesn't know us yet. We should let him see that we're here for him."

Morwen opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, the nursery door creaked open. The girls fell silent, their eyes widening as their father, King Cedric, stepped into the corridor. In his arms was Eamon.

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The room seemed to hold its breath. Eamon blinked in the sudden light, his wide eyes taking in the new surroundings with a mixture of awe and confusion. His hair, a shade lighter than Isolde's, fell in soft waves around his face. His small hands clutched at the fabric of Cedric’s cloak, and he looked up at his father, then back at the figures before him.

Cedric cleared his throat, his expression stern yet gentle. "Eamon," he said, his voice low and soothing, "these are your sisters."

Eamon's gaze moved slowly across the line of girls, studying each of them with an intensity that seemed beyond his years. There was a moment of silence, a pause that felt like it stretched into eternity. Then, Isolde stepped forward.

"Hello, Eamon," she said softly, bending down to his level. Her voice, usually commanding and sure, was tender now, filled with a warmth that only her siblings ever saw. "I'm Isolde, your eldest sister."

Eamon continued to stare at her, his eyes wide and unblinking. For a moment, Isolde feared he might cry or turn away. But then, slowly, he reached out a hand toward her. Isolde's heart leapt in her chest as she gently took his small hand in hers. His skin was soft and warm, and the connection, however small, sent a rush of emotion through her.

She smiled at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We've been waiting to meet you," she whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "We're so happy you're here."

Morwen couldn't hold back any longer. She bounded forward, her energy contained only by sheer willpower. "I'm Morwen!" she announced brightly, her voice filled with excitement. "And I'm going to show you all the fun things in the castle. There are secret passages, and gardens, and—"

"Morwen," Isolde cautioned, but Eamon let out a small giggle, the sound soft and unexpected.

Morwen grinned wider, her eyes sparkling. "See? He likes it. Don't worry, Eamon, we'll have lots of adventures."

Next came Elspeth, who approached with a more measured calmness. She held out the small bouquet of flowers she had brought, her movements slow and deliberate. "These are for you," she said gently. "I picked them from the garden. They’re nice, aren't they?"

Eamon looked at the flowers, then at Elspeth. He hesitated before reaching out and taking them from her. His small fingers brushed against hers, and for a moment, Elspeth thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, as if he understood the gesture even if he couldn't yet put it into words.

Elspeth smiled warmly. "I'm Elspeth. If you ever want to see the garden, I'll show you. It's a quiet place, and you'll like it, I think."

Ailsa had been squirming with impatience, her eyes fixed on Eamon the whole time. When it was her turn, she stepped forward with the wooden sword still in her grip. She hesitated, glancing at Isolde, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement.

"I'm Ailsa," she declared, her voice full of determination. "And this—" she held up the sword, "—is for when you're older. I'll teach you how to fight. We can be knights together."

Eamon stared at the sword, his eyes wide. He didn't reach for it, but he watched Ailsa intently, his gaze moving between her face and the sword in her hand.

Ailsa bit her lip, unsure if she had gone too far. But then Eamon did something that surprised them all. He reached out, not for the sword, but for Ailsa's hand. He grasped her fingers, holding onto them tightly, as if to say he understood, or perhaps just that he wanted to connect with this whirlwind of energy standing before him.

Ailsa's face softened, her bravado giving way to the tenderness she had been trying to hide. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "We'll wait. But one day, you'll see."

Isolde watched the scene unfold with a mix of pride and relief. Her sisters, in their own unique ways, had made Eamon feel welcomed. They had bridged the gap that the years of isolation had created, and in that moment, they had become more than just the older sisters he had never met. They had become his family.

Cedric, who had been silently watching with a tense expression, finally exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. He looked down at his son, who now stood amidst his sisters, his tiny hands holding onto the flowers from Elspeth and Ailsa's fingers. The storm of emotions within Cedric seemed to calm, if only for a moment.

"Your sisters have waited a long time for you, Eamon," he said quietly. "You are not alone."

Eamon looked up at his father, then at each of his sisters. Slowly, a small, tentative smile spread across his face. It was a smile that spoke of trust, of a budding bond that would only grow stronger with time.

Isolde wrapped an arm around Morwen, who was practically bouncing on her toes. Elspeth took Eamon's other hand, while Ailsa, still holding her wooden sword, stood proudly beside him.

"Welcome to the family, little brother," Isolde said softly. "We're here now. Always."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow through the corridor windows, Eamon stood surrounded by his sisters. It was the beginning of a new chapter for all of them, the start of a bond that would shape their lives in ways they could not yet imagine.

For Eamon, it was more than just his first meeting with his sisters. It was the first step into a world that, until now, had been kept from him—a world filled with love, warmth, and the promise of family.