Chapter Text
The four kingdoms, Hiems to the north, Fons to the east, Aestas to the south, and Cadere to the west. Each kingdom represented one of the four seasons, winter, spring, summer, and autumn respectively. Within the kingdoms, four mystics resided who seemingly controlled the elements through magical properties that science couldn’t explain. The four’s presence demanded both respect and caution no matter the occasion or location, everyone else compared to them was painfully ordinary. On top of their powers, historically they were the direct attendants to the ruling family in one way or another, in the case of Kingdom Hiems, the mystic was Lady Laswell, with her snowy blonde hair, natural elegance, and sternness that was often mistaken for coldness; it made sense. It had never been questioned. Not even by the Winter Guard.
However, all of that only mattered within the royal courts and wartime, presently all four kingdoms held a generation’s long silent truce that started when the Winter King Erasmus had been killed under mysterious circumstance, a murder that had never been solved, only begrudgingly accepted. The king had been kind all throughout his life, and somehow his kindness extended into the silent truce. Unfortunately that kindness did not find its way into Simon’s personal life.
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A kick connected with his lower back, forcing Simon to drop his wooden sword and fall to the ground on his hands and knees in complete and utter defeat. Doing his best to regain his breath that had been kicked out of him, Simon slowly brought himself back to his feet. Still breathing hard, the child held his wooden sword in front of him, pointed end staring down at his father ready to attack. His tenth birthday had passed a couple days prior and his wish to be trained to become a Winter Guard was finally coming true. Three years ago the Prince of Hiems had been born and Simon felt some sort of urge and pull to earn himself the right to stand at the younger’s side no matter what, perhaps it was because the former Winter King had been murdered shortly after the Prince’s birth. Some sort of patriotic duty had taken him over he supposed. Almost as if it was going to be his sole responsibility to keep the younger alive, hell the prince hadn’t even presented yet and Simon felt duty coursing through his veins.
Rushing at his father, Simon lunged with his weapon, getting an elbow to his stomach that had dropped him to the grassy earth once more. “No matter what, you must always get back up! You want to be more than a simple farm hand? Then get off the ground and face me like a man!” his father shouted at him as he struggled to get back up, the ache in his shoulder beginning to reach deep into his muscles. This had been going on for nearly the entire day, the sun was beginning to set bringing the summer night upon them. The harder Simon found it to stand up, the more his ambition of becoming a Winter Guard diminished slightly. He had only ever heard about them through rumors and legends, sure regular knights were swell too, but the Guard were the ones that served the Winter Queen herself along with the royal family and those close to them. Every young boy had dreamed about being in the Winter Guard, even if they were just some sort of fantasy, and unfortunately Simon was no different. A life of luxury for both you and your family, forever bound by duty to serve the Royal Court, with that thrown into the mix, there was no way in the seven hells the Guard existed, he still had to try.
After a couple heaving breaths, Simon was back on his feet, weapon held out in front of him pointing straight at his father. He steadied his heart and breathing, and brought his sword down in front of him ready to defend himself properly this time. Watching carefully as his father rushed him, Simon brought his sword up finally parrying the way they had been practicing all day, pride bloomed in his chest only for it to be beaten down as his father grappled him via his neck and shoulder, throwing the small boy over and onto the ground with a dull thud. With that, they were called in for dinner.
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Sitting at the grand table, the young prince looked up from the spot where he was trying to set the table on fire with his mind and turned that stare towards his mother with that very same frozen fury in his eyes. Despite being an only child and knowing deep down this was coming, he couldn’t help glare at the olive skinned princess who walked into the dining hall. Silence befell them all, the soft click of heeled boots filling the air as the Karim family and their guard from Fons filed into the hall. As part of their grand entrance, they introduced themselves, but really the only one that mattered to the boy was the princess, his betrothed. Farah. Behind Farah stood a boy who was slightly taller than her and pale skinned, without missing a beat, the boy pulled the seat beside John out for the princess and gently pushed her in. It was so unfair, they were both aged ten, that much he knew but his mother had forbidden him from having his own knight until he presented, and well, he still had roughly five years to go. Jealousy coursed through him, yet the frozen stare he was being graced with from the queen kept him in his place.
One by one, Queen Cassandra introduced herself, her son, Prince John, and her trusted advisors. Knight’s Captain Johnathan Price, the man training to be his right hand, Kyle Garrick, and finally, the Winter Mystic and First Lady to the queen, Lady Laswell. Introductions wrapped up, food began to fill the large hall, soon followed by a small group of bards, the cold dining hall slowly warming up with the flow of food and drink. Only the prince sat in his silence and wallowing, doing his best to completely ignore the visiting princess who after a time, began showing more interest in her appointed knight.