LAUCAN

The carriage rocked along the grey-splattered stones of Volaris' streets. Archways rose high into the tall buildings of marble, where the peaks of the roofs tried to touch a sky long past. Streamers hung off of the metal railings, where their snow shaped pearls whispered in the wind. Music rose from the alleyways they passed, though they tried to get out of the way of their carriage, drawn by two beautiful feathered gryphlings, a long lost descendant of hippogryphs. On two scaled legs, walking along with powerful claws and flared out white feathers. The only creature hardy enough to survive the outside of the city for longer than a night. Laucan leaned on the window, then drew the curtains to close off the city, afraid of what he might see in the dark of his home.

"Is something troubling you?"

"No." Laucan pressed himself deeper into the cushion of the frost carriage, avoiding his older sister's appraising gaze, though the thin blinder tied around her brow gave off the appearance of a wyvern, merging with her feathers. "Why?"

"You're nervous."

Can't hide anything from her. Laucan dared to open the curtains again. "I just—"

"You've been afraid to leave the palace since Father's assassination," Hayvala said, straight to the point. "A king should rule from among his people, not above them. You won't learn anything if you hide behind your walls while they struggle." She reached forward to draw the curtain open further. "You are still young, Laucan. You need not make Father's mistakes."

"I know."

Hayvala frowned at him, and the judgemental gazes followed long after court adjourned. Whispers of ice, and he stepped on the thinning foundation. Up when he walked in Father's study, and blood spread among the mosaic tiles, where his crown tumbled in the puddle, and to be a wyvern king never meant invincibility. But he thought he was invincible. Laucan dug his fingers into his knees. "I'll try everything for her."

Hayvala pressed her lips together into a thin line. "Does that include going down into the hearts and giving up your power?"

He snapped his head up. "How do you know about that?"

"Sister's instinct," Hayvala replied. "I urge caution. You are not grown. You aren't giving your magick the chance it needs to bloom. You give everything to the hearts, and you will find yourself with nothing left."

Laucan forced a smile on his face, tearing apart his cheeks. "I must, Hayvie. If I do not, the barrier which has stood thousands of turns around this city will fall." He glanced up at the sky, where the outside monster of a blizzard dug into the field of magick surrounding the city. In a pocket of time and space, where nothing could see past the clouds over the frozen wastes. "It has to be me. Father was unable to do so in his reign." Because he thought it was a waste of time, and with them trapped by the blizzard, who else could they turn to? "I just do not want our way of life to die," he managed out.

"We are people of the north. We can never die. Only when history has ceased to speak our names is when we fall."

But Father did.

Laucan rested his head against the seat cushion as the carriage rolled up on the Volaris Opera House, where many nobles stepped out of their carriages to enter the gates of snow. Some of them tucked underneath snowbonnets. He gazed up at the giant statue of Evyriaz, the patron deity of Naveera and all Avaerilis, a messenger between their ancestral wyvern bloodlines. White flames flickered between his maw, unable to come to life in the harsh wind as one of the Sentinels opened their carriage door. Hayvala wrapped her own bonnet around her head, covering her ears.

Laucan shuffled with his hat, making sure the ear flaps covered his. The Sentinel held out an arm for his sister, which she took with grace before stepping out of the carriage. He followed after her, where another Sentinel closed ranks behind him. "I wonder what they will show first," he mused, trying to escape the unease of the alleyways while they were led to a separate entrance from the other folk. "Maybe another tale from the Knights of the Round? Or old stories of how the wyverns and ice fae came to be?"

"I hope they do Ice Knight and the Sun Queen again for this Turn's festival," Hayvala remarked. "That's always been my favorite." She fell in step with him as they entered the building where the corridors circled with tapestries and long carpets, telling stories of their history and culture. More music sang on the wind, dancing along with the sound of Naveeran lutes and crystal harps. "Which one do you want to see?"

"I want to see 'Atoran of the Ice Glaive'. They don't really play that one in this city."

"You're quite a big fan of Atoran," Hayvala teased. "He's all the ice squires talk about."

Laucan crawled up the steps to the highest seats with the best view of the stage. "Atoran was the best Ice Knight of old Naveera," he pointed out. "He has so many legends surrounding him, almost as many as the Snow Prince." He shuffled his feet. "It is sad that we've lost the round tomb and his glaive." So much of our history is buried underneath snow. And slowly we suffocate. His excitement for the show dwindled the longer he pondered on it.

"Yes, Ser Atoran made his mark on history, and we shall not soon forget," Hayvala said. "Don't forget the other knights, Laucan. They play a role, and as long as we speak their names through song, they shall never die." She headed further up the steps, taking the help of a Sentinel.

Laucan stopped on the final step, stretching out his feathers. "We do not yet know the Snow Prince's name, the one who created the Knights of the Round."

The Sentinels guided them to the royal seats, and he sat down, setting his hat down on his lap. It fell silent within the opera houses' main stage while people gathered in their seats for the festival's show. Hayvala rested against her seat while two Sentinels stood by the door, glaives at their sides. Several musicians sat at their respective podiums, awaiting the signal to start while people whispered and clamoured. Agitation pickled the sides of his head, and he smoothed out his downy feathers. A Naveeran dancer stepped up to the front, their traditional Navee garments billowing like wings in an unseen wing. On their hips, two familiar shapes. Chakrams, meant to accentuate the dance without the blades. Other dancers collected behind them, ready to start the dance.

"For millions of Turns we have celebrated the wyvern fires," the main dancer spoke in a song, loud and clear. "Though we cannot see above the clouds, there is a rebirth on the wings. For that, we shall first tell the story of the Snow Prince, who pulled Ezcalisere out of the ice. For all we are, and all we must become. For we who know him as the once and future king of Naveera, awaiting to rise again in her greatest need." She took a deep bow, where the pearls along her mask bounced along with her blonde hair. "Happy nameday, Zila'ken, may your reign shine bright among the echoes, and join the song of Ezcalisere."

Laucan jumped, and sank into his seat while an applause started. Crystal lights dimmed as the dancers stepped back from the main performance, while a harp sang its tune. Words alone never brought the story to life. The main dancer brought two fingers up to her lips. Snow fell off her hand when she twisted on her heels, and began the dance. Images rose from the mist growing on the stage, which the dancers molded into to tell their story.

A wave of soothing tones fell upon his shoulders. All his worries wasted away with the music as they danced and told the story of the Snow Prince and his silver blade. One show out of many to be had. Snow fluttered over the seats which each dance made, sprinkling light akin to stars over their heads. Hayvala sat back as two of the dancers ascended the aerial ribbons with ease, latched on by magick and their own grace.

Madame Titania's voice spoke over Father's dismissive one, No, no, Little Prince. To fly, you must first learn how to fall, she scolded after he attempted to climb the wyvern ribbons. You do not know how to fall yet. You must learn all these things before you can spread your wings and fly.

Laucan observed while the dancers swung and flew from ribbon to ribbon, scattering more images while the music shifted with the magick in the air. The dancers on the floor skated along the spiral, to the centre where a sword of ice grew out of their past steps. Their chakrams highlighted the movements of their upper body, almost guiding them into more steps.

The main dancer spun and flipped with the spiralling snow in the air to reach the sword. With one snap of her fingers, it rose out of the ice spiral to represent the lake of Avae'londu, the water where Ezcalizere was forged from the Snow Prince's desire to protect his land. She brought out a length of grey ribbon around its scabbard, sending a wisp of snow down its length as it suspended in thin air. The music rose with a crescendo, and Laucan tipped his head when she brought herself back, and a blast of icy wind sent the sword speeding towards their seats.

One Sentinel moved forward, but Laucan stopped him when the sword lodged into their wooden railing. Everyone in the crowd moved to follow it, and it all fell silent save for the soothing song of the crystal harp. Heart beating, he stood up to examine the entire hall. Whispers rose up from the seats below, and their gazes of judgment glared up at him. He, who flew above them all. Laucan eyed the dancers, who returned his stare.

In the eyes of the wyverns, the Snow Prince tugged the silver blade out of the unending ice. A promise to his kingdom. I shall be your protector, I will raise this blade aloft, champions of the just...

He wrapped his hand around the scabbard of ice, tugging it out of the wood with ease. Everyone in the opera house waited with bated breath, nary a sound leaving their lips at the bold move. A move which Father would see punished. But it wasn't bold... It was what Madame Titania would say... a part of the song.

Wind caressed around his fingers as he allowed the sword to drift back down among the dancers, with the younger ones looking particularly ruffled and surprised at their star's actions. The sword burst into snow when it touched the stage again, and the instruments slowed to a stop.

The whole hall released a collective breath.

"So rises the once and future king," the singers finished off the dance, waiting for their cue, and another soothing wave fell across his mind with their soft tones which echoed louder than the screams of his own when he found the bloodied body. "Touched are the ones who stood before, the golden lights in the crimson shadows. In the wyvern fires, the futures rewritten, and the story unfolds."

Laucan smiled when a cheer rose from the mist, the burden in their hearts released for more festivities. Hayvala relaxed in her chair, while the Sentinels stayed at their posts. All the dancers bowed with the musicians, and the stories continued, as the song foretold.

He sat back down. Yes... I must protect it with all that I am. He rested back in his seat. I shall not let us be erased by history.

For he was the guardian of Naveera, protector of the song.