Cian and Uncle Anorae

      Cian was seven, running around the family estate. It had been a little over a year since his mothers death, and rather then hide in the castle during the great weather, the servants had forced him outside. He could have easily refused them, but he loved them like family, and knew they cared. So he found himself walking around the garden, running to stretch his legs, and just trying to soak in the warm, wonderful, spring air…

         All of the sudden, his feet snapped shut. He had only a second to realize they had been tied together instantly by bolas, before his face hit soft grass. He froze, instinctual self-preservation warring with his want to beat the crap out of whoever had just thrown them. He waited, but nothing happened, and that pissed him off. He wasn’t a snooty kind of privileged kid, but why knock him over with a non-lethal weapon for no reason? As soon as he got the courage to look at who had thrown them, the scowl was immediately replaced by a huge grin.

         “Uncle Anorae!!!” he yanked the bolas off. The run was clumsy, but he barreled into his uncle’s outstretched arms. ”I thought you were an assassin like they said in the books I was reading.” He squeezed tight.

         “And what if I was? How many times have I reminded you to keep your guard up?” He sounded very firm, but the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.

         Cain looked chastised, but his twinkle was just as bright. “And how many times have I told you to cover your ribs?” When Anorae’s head tilted to the side a bit in question, Cian jabbed hard and fast, and ran out of arm’s reach.

         Anorae grunted, feigning a more serious injury, but chuckled too. Damn, that boy was just like his mother, he thought to himself. Cian danced around, still out of arm’s reach, taunting. How many times had he played the same game with her as children? He sighed.

         “Come here, Dragonfly.” Anorae smiled, and outstretched his arm again. The boy wrinkled his nose, but came.

         “I thought I outgrew that nickname.” he huffed. Every time Anorae called him that, Cerulian argued it, but it always came back.

         “Well, until the little dragon grows his true fangs, he’s still just a dragonfly.” He glared, and Anorae laughed a little again, but sobered up. “Cian, I have something very important to tell you. I need to leave again soon,“ he saw Cian’s hurt look, and regretted deeply having to leave him again, “but I can stay for a day or two. The real reason why I came was because I needed to give you a message. It’s something you must promise me never ever to forget. Never.”

         Cian eyed him warily. Anorae tried to gauge the emotions on his face, and couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or fear. No, it was a worry that he may forget something important, and then get yelled at. Oh little dragonfly, if only it were that simple.

         “A wise old friend of mine that died not to long ago wanted me to pass this message on to you. She was a Seer, and didn’t explain why, but she said I should give it to you as soon as I could. Are you actually listening to me?”

         “Mmhmm…”

         “When a prince takes her life, he’ll be a king for the kingdom, but when he shares his life with her forever, he’ll be a king for the people.” He watched as Cian carefully memorized it word for word, and then scrutinized each one as well.

         “What does it mean?” he furrowed his brow, and thought hard. Anorae shrugged his shoulders.

         “How the hell am I supposed to know? She was a Seer. All their messages are cryptic crap until it happens, then you want to smack yourself for not getting it. That’s how it works with them.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “But that doesn’t mean you should ignore it. If they bother to tell you something, then it is always worth having the warning.”

         “So wait, who’s ‘her’? And how is it supposed to help if I don‘t get it?” He looked up very curious and concentrated, like he was trying to put a puzzle together.

         Anorae thought, trying to get a good answer. “I don’t know, Dragonfly. I was wondering that myself to be honest. Maybe, one day, you can answer it for the both of us.” Cian’s face slowly turned from curious, to serious, to haunted. Anorae watched the change, and wondered how profoundly his mother’s death had rocked his Core. What had this boy seen that could give him a look that sick and desperate? He knew he needed to make a move before he lost whatever progress he had made in keeping the boy from letting his memories eat his soul alive.

         So he pinched Cian’s arm, who yelped, and immediately returned to the boy he was. Then the little brat punched him back.

         “Not fair!” Cian yelled.

         “Who said we were playing fair?” Anorae laughed, and rubbed his arm.

         Cian growled and ran off, trying to get him to follow. Anorae watched the running boy, and after a moment, went over to join him.

         Ah, Dragonfly, he thought. Can you step away from your past enough to really look forward to the future? Can you cherish the lessons without being tortured by the memories? Can you fulfill you destiny, down whatever path it leads you?