( made with completely indeterminate placement to the timeline ;3; )

She had taken the children a little bit aways to tell them a story, one of adventure and love, promise and revenge, betrayal and sadness with many twists and turns and redemption where one least expected it with wisdom and advice hidden and tucked away into as many corners and she could place. She was just finishing the story and wrapping up all the lose ends.

"....and the old man told her to just give up, can you imagine?" She said in the same enraptured whisper she had kept throughout the whole story, raising in volume for the climactic scenes of danger where everything was at stake, like when the prince was climbing ladders and jumping from balconies and sword fighting his arch rival at the same time, and lowering for the sad parts, where the princess cried over those lost in the fighting. "She was so close, so close to figuring out the song that would wake up the prince that slept in his coral coffin, and after all she had done, the old man was telling her to let him sleep. She stood up and told him she would never give up.

So she sang the song from the beginning. She sang the beginning that she had been given from the crevices of the old, crumbling tower that howled when the wind breathed through its stones like an instrument, she sang what she'd learned from the deep ocean sea where their magic had allowed them to breathe among the shimmering reef, she sang what she'd been given by the little child she and the prince had saved who laughed most delightfully when she taught her how to fly. And she sang her happiness and her pain and loss of losing the little prince."

She glanced away from her children, and saw Bartos watching them from his home with a bittersweet smile, and she smiled back at him. His eyes flickered, and he went back inside.

She closed her eye tight, her heart lurching in her chest.

"She sang of how much she missed her prince who loved her so much. She missed his smile, his bravery, his breathless wonder for the impossible. She missed his clever words, his bright, sparkling eyes, the way he took her breath away with his truth. So she sang of her loss, hoping to bring him back." She continued, her voice tinged with sadness.

"This is how I speak."

She watched with intense fascination to the story the whole entire time, curled up in the comfortable divet that their mother provided for the two kittens to rest in as she sat. She had nestled into their mother's soft, white fur, seeping in her warmth, feeling safe and happy and loved and entranced the whole entire time.

She barely knew how the prince got out of that tower that howled, with its ivy covered stones and its neverending winding staircase and its secrets hidden under nearly every stone. The prince had to hurry though and never tarry, because the water was rising and he needed to keep climbing and turning over stones to know how to get to the very top to get the song. She was kept on her toes the whole time, her legs curled and kept tight against her in anticipation, and she only let out her kept breath until he was free.

And the child that learned to fly! That was amazing! They had to go on a long winding quest to find the magical feather from the giant who guarded it jealously, and when they finally passed the giant, they realized they had to figure out how to pass the crystal palace and save the phoenix from the guillotine.

But their mother paused, and Wist frowned. Why did she stop? Was she just thinking of how it would end? Wist curled even more into her mother's side, waiting, feeling impatient. She wanted to know how the prince woke up from his sleep! Why was she waiting?

Hawthorne was... well. He didn't know what to feel, really. He lay stiffly in the hollow his mother had created, snuggled closer to his sister than the doe, seemingly stuck between wanting to give in to the comfort of his family and wanting to flee, terrified by that same lurking glow he'd seen as an infant, something warning him to hide, to call for help. The buck inched his head over one of Clover's front legs, gaze stuck on his father, purr soft and dwindling.

But the story. The story kept him still, rooted to the spot by fascination, golden eye blinking sleepily as he pictured it all unfolding in his mind. His fur had risen from the itching unrest he felt, being so close to his father's Lost Queen, someone even a Knight so powerful as Bartos felt in fear of. That same fear made him poof up, until he looked almost twice his size - and ridiculous to boot, like a cotton ball with hooves. Clover's words trailed off, and Hawthorne took the moment to memorize all he'd heard so far, desperate to hold onto at least this piece of his mother.

Rumbling out a rough mewling purr, he turned his head to bump it against Wisteria's shoulder, half comforting her and half himself. She was the Hero, that he knew - but could Heros protect family against family? Hawthorne knew his place, the sidekick, helping his sister, but right now he felt like more of a burden than a help, unable to speak, much less stand up to any monsters or villains. So he lay, stiff as a board, and tried to enjoy the moment for the reprieve it was supposed to be.

Why should he be confined to one room? Was he not a prince and an apparent god? He should be allowed to wander wherever he wanted with whoever he wanted and if whoever he wanted was no one then that should be just fine. No one would dare hurt him! He was too important! The entitled prince tossed his head, crown glinting in the dim light of the caves.

The air seemed to be growing more and more damp the further he went. Where exactly was he anyway? There was now a cascading waterfall and he had to admit it... It was quite beautiful! He'd never seen anything like it.

He wondered if he could take over it some day.

The small fawn's hooves clacked against the stone as he meandered around at first aimlessly but then with purpose when he noticed something. Two creatures of cream fur and bodies like him were resting near what looked like a pure white doe. This doe was absolutely gorgeous! She seemed so... so pure.

He blinked his golden eyes feeling something stir in his gut. His father had told him of a pure white doe before, the Goddess. This was his mother. It had to be. Not only did his father's description match her but there was something primal telling him that it was her. He was excited and nervous all at the same time. For once the prince didn't know what to do and in his uncertainty he hid, finding a bit of shadow to curl up in while he watched and listened to the doe's story.

The story to him sounded sappy... Why was his mother telling such stupid love stories? Where were the dragons? Where was the fighting? The darkness? He scoffed and finally decided to show himself. Out of the shadows he stepped, walking unabashedly up to the deer creatures and plopping down next to them. He looked first at them, finding their deer-like forms alright... well... not as good as him but still not terrible. Now he turned to the doe that he knew was his mother and said without fear, "Why a song? Wouldn't it be better with some fire and fighting and darkness?" He felt no fear because he knew he and the white doe were kin. He could belong wherever she was.

@Belladonna

And just like that, someone came and interrupted her before she could end her story, and they plopped down and raised a brow and criticised her story, and, looking at him, her blood went cold. This was...the child Belladonna had made with Vazi, that she had made, trapped in her own body, and he was...just as lovely as Bella had promised.

Bella, in her prison, screamed, rattling the cages, burning her hands against the bars, yelling a the top of her lungs to be let out to talk to him, and Clover covered the prison so that she couldn't hear her anymore.

She licked her lips, looking from the pure white child to her lovely twins, and her heartbeat sped up.

Bartos, She said through the bond. You need to come and collect the children.

And to Kingsfoil....she reached out to him, attempting to speak into his mind to save her lovely children from any undue pain.

Clearly, with all the focus she could muster, she spoke into King's mind.

Kingsfoil. She said, as clear as day, looking straight at him without moving her mouth. You will leave these two children alone and you will not speak to them or so help me I will find a way to kill a god.

She knew his heart, she knew who his parents were, she knew his was prideful and sick inside just like Belladonna, and in reflex, to protect her children, she sent Kingsfoil all the images her imagination could procure; Her ripping his tongue from his mouth, her cutting away his legs with her magic, her stabbing him over and over and over.

She had no love for this child. If he would dare to touch Bartos' children, she would murder him.

All this she sent with the calmest expression, her eye half-lidded, and then she turned to the twins with a kind and patient smile, waiting for Bartos to come.

"This is how I speak."

Wist looked at the newcomer with his pretty white coat and his golden eyes and his golden numbs and her mouth opened a little bit. Wow! He was lovely and confident and he looked like he was their age! She didn't know about the fire and darkness bit, that seemed a little bit... wrong? To wake up the prince the princess was singing to unlock the coffin, and that made total and complete sense to her. Fire and fighting wouldn't get him to wake up! But she admired his way of thinking all the same! It was very brave.

"Mama!" She said tentatively, her voice full of childish wonder. "Is this the prince from the story?"

Their lovely mama looked at her with a kind and patient smile and said, "Wist, Hawthorne, this is Kingsfoil." She paused for a long second. "Your half-brother."

Wist's mouth opened wide, and she looked at the pretty young fawn. "Wha-really?" She blinked and fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Kingsfoil."

Unfortunately, fortune favors the the brave, not the so-desperately-uncomfortable-they're-about-to-cry. A stranger had waltzed up and dropped down right beside he and his sister, and Hawthorne's fur rose in an instant, until he looked huge - with comically tiny legs. A wide golden eye watched the white buck, twitching, and he lasted about a moment of sheer frozen fright before letting out a panicked bleat and flailing backward, rolling and scrambling until he ended up behind Wisteria, shielded from both his mother and his... half-brother?

His eye narrowed in mistrust, chin resting on Wisteria's back, legs and tail folded up under his belly. "I-if h-he's our b-brother, w-why haven't w-we seen 'im before?" The suspicious gaze roved to Clover, and he hid just a bit more behind his trusted sister, everything but his nose, eyes and ears invisible beyond her pelt. Kingsfoil looked... important. And intimidating. But he had a crown - only good guys had crowns, right? Floppy ears twitching backwards, Hawthorne simply sat in a solid, anxious lump, nerves running wild.

He just wanted his dad.

From the den he had kept a watchful eye on the small gathering; he'd monitored his children from the moment they left the den, watching each step they took as they moved to join Clover under her blanket of stories. From the mouth of the rock, he had reclined onto his stomach but had elevated his head, observantly noting every change in expression between his children and their mother, radar ears rotating and twitching, searching for words above the air. She had always been soft spoken, but it wasn't as if she was trying to hide her story, and every now and then he used their bond to extend even further into the connection between them and reach for the story as it drove its way through her mind. It wasn't the only thing he was on the lookout for; he sought twinges, flickers, where the light would ripple as though something had passed in front of it.

He had his magic at the ready. He loved her, her innocence, her purity; and those parts of her that he had fallen in love with, they made up the children folded before her. He had to preserve them, he would not let them be tainted too, and so each time she hesitated or stared somewhere else or lowered her voice he was seconds from springing into action, until she lifted her light to him and Bartos was anchored to the ground. It made him wonder, truly wonder, if he could have acted if she did do anything. If he was made a fool for trusting her. If he was weak, for not being able to fight back.

The cat folded his ears back, his eyelids had fallen half closed, but he was still watching. It was tempting to fall into the comfort of the norm, to wander over and join them in their story time. He entertained the thought, even, until another creature had approached. Bartos blinked, watching the pristine fawn strut towards the group, furrowing his brow. Another few seconds elapsed as he attempted to recognize the creature, and his nerves were on high for how close the child was coming, until his bratty voice delivered an unwelcome interruption to her story. He curled his lip slightly, but when he felt that brief spark of malice stirring inside of Clover, that was when he had risen to his paws.

Then she looked to him. The same look with which she had seduced him so many times before, that very same that stilled his heart and made him lost. Bartos' hardened gaze had inevitably softened, but he knew what she was requesting of him. "Hawthorne, Wisteria." The cat called out in his approach, moving slow enough to prevent undue stress to his leg, but brisk enough to convey intent, his tail snaking high above his back. "Leon has asked me to do a presentation on the constellations of Orion." The cat sent a humored look to his children. "I thought you guys might have fun baubling some stars for me." He had found refuge in his observations with Quintus lately, and the children's penchance for light magic would come in handy, besides serving as a distraction from this... false king. Bartos had barely snuck a glance towards Kingsfoil, though he knew beholding the child would only give him anger. Most of his attention lingered on his children.

Otherwise, he didn't wait long for a response. The cat meandered towards them, cutting in between them, Clover and Kingsfoil, gently licking their foreheads before heading towards the lagoon near the waterfall and expecting them to follow.

(exit Bartos) @Wisteria @Hawthorne

Wist just sat there, protecting her brother with a smile, and she quickly turned to peck a kiss on his forehead before looking back on her newfound brother and her mother and now, her father that came up to them both, calling them. She rose with a gentle grace, and she bowed to both Clover and King before softly telling her scared brother, "Come on, Thorne, we have to go."

As a goodbye, she said, "I hope we can see you again soon, brother! Goodbye, Mama. We'll be back soon, I do hope."

And she nudged the stiff and scared Hawthorne to move, and she left with Bartos and Thorne with a light and happy step.

She would get the rest of the story later, she thought. There was always time for a story. And she would catch up with their new, long-lost half-brother later. Oh, the adventures he must've had!
[exit Wist]

Speak of the devil and he will appear - and it seemed the same could be said for his father, who called out to save them both from the strange "brother" and Hawthorne himself from the abject horror of suffering through so much tension. Skittering to his feet, kiss from Wisteria warming his forehead and making him just a bit more bold, the buck huffed at her grace, trying to resist a petulant roll of his eyes.

"Y-yeah, b-bye, mom," he mumbled, floppy ears hiding his eye and his gem from sight as he trotted to Bartos' side with palpable relief, not bothering to stop the low, happy purr at the cat's easy affection, so unlike the stilted, constricting feel that seemed to creep into his every interaction with the white doe. "Ooh, I-I wanna m-make some s-stars! W-Wist, c'mon, w-we got stuff to do," he bleated, just a little bit of childish temper heating his words, steps speeding tap just ahead of the tiny group, more than happy to get away from both deer as quickly as possible, anxiety fading by the foot.

[ exit Hawthorne ]