Chapter Text
3037
Autumn of the twenty-first year of the thirteenth Sun-King’s reign
On the northern shores of the lake known as Daybrink, underneath the Blazon Arch, the three princes of the Sundom bathed in the light of the sun.
“Itamen!” Queen Consort Nasadi called, exasperated. “Itamen, it is time to eat!”
Well, two of the three were sunbathing. The third was making a nuisance of himself, as usual.
Avad propped himself up on his elbows from where he lay, on a blanket spread on a conveniently flat rock by the Blazon Arch itself. His little brother Itamen--three years old, or three and three quarters if you asked him--was lying limp on the ground, laughing his tiny little head off at his mother’s attempts to get him to stand under his own power.
“Itamen,” Kadaman said. Avad glanced down at where he lay beside him on his stomach. His older brother took after their late mother, all honey-tinged hair and sharp features. He hadn’t even opened his eyes. “Listen to your mother.”
Itamen just laughed louder.
“I don’t think the little tyrant is going to bend that easily,” Avad noted, as Nasadi stalked over to them.
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try,” Kadaman said, clearly trying to go back to sleep.
“I certainly can,” Nasadi said. She kicked the favored heir of the Sun-King in the leg. “Go get him.”
“Nasadi, I was just getting comfortable,” Kadaman complained.
“You’ve been comfortable for the last two hours,” their stepmother said ruthlessly. “My son needs to go inside and eat his lunch, and I will not carry him like a sack of maize. Now go and get him.”
“Fine,” Kadaman grumbled, and made a great show of struggling to his feet. He stretched and yawned as he approached his youngest brother.
Nasadi turned her scowl onto Avad next. “Go help him.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t think the future Sun-King can handle one little boy?”
“Of course not. He is weak. He needs you to keep him focused. Go help him.”
“Yes, Nasadi,” Avad said, getting up with much more grace than his brother.
She waved him away. “I’ll get the blanket, and then you can all come in and eat.”
Avad shook his head--his stepmother was an efficient mother, especially considering she was actually younger than her oldest stepson. Avad was certain that even the Nora could learn a thing or two from her.
He approached Kadaman, who was holding Itamen by the wrists. He lifted the boy up until he was on his toes, but when he lowered his arms, the little prince simply folded into a pile of limbs, still giggling.
“It’s not working,” Kadaman said. “I think he’s broken.”
“Broken or spoiled,” Avad agreed. He crouched in front of him. “Are you a spoiled sack of maize, Itamen?”
The young boy nodded his head, grinning.
Kadaman hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe if you take one arm, we can hold him up and pretend I got him to stand.”
Nasadi didn’t bother looking up from where she was shaking out the blanket. “Make him walk like a prince!”
“He’s going to need a bath before lunch,” Avad observed idly.
“No,” Itamen said, shaking his head vigorously.
Kadaman’s eyes danced. He looked to the lake then to Avad, and grinned. Avad sighed and shook his head.
“All right, no baths for little princes,” Avad said reasonably. He grabbed his ankles and stood. “Sacks of maize, though….”
“No!” Itamen shrieked as he was carried towards the water, suspended between his two older brothers and trying to wriggle free.
“What are you two doing with my son?” Nasadi asked tiredly.
“Absolutely nothing!” Kadaman assured her. “We’re just dumping this sack of maize in the lake!”
“It’s full of worms,” Avad supplied helpfully, as Itamen wriggled harder.
“Do not throw him in the lake,” Nasadi said, folding the blanket.
“We won’t!” Kadaman sang even as he and Avad began swinging. “One! And two! And--”
Nasadi’s head jerked up. “I said don’t--!”
“--three!” Itamen went flying through the air with a shriek, limbs flailing wildly.
“Hold your breath!” Avad shouted, just before the little boy crashed with a great splash! He came up a moment later, laughing and sputtering.
“Boys!” Nasadi scolded, sounding thoroughly done with their nonsense.
“Someone should probably go get him,” Avad mused. His older brother clapped him on the shoulder.
“Yep,” Kadaman agreed, and pushed.
Avad pivoted as he fell, grabbed his arm and pulled, bringing Kadaman face first into the water with an unprincely yelp. On the shore, the Queen Consort collapsed on the ground, laughing so hard she cried. They were all thoroughly late for lunch.
Prince Itamen would remember that day in the shadow of the Blazon Arch as his last truly happy memory--his whole family together, untainted by fear or blood. Prince Avad’s was from when he was twelve years old, before their father, the Mad Sun-King Jiran, had launched the first of the Red Raids.
Prince Kadaman’s last happy memory was earlier still, from before he had learned that his father had beaten his and Avad’s mother to death in a fit of paranoid rage.
Avad didn’t know. In three days, Kadaman would take that secret to his grave.