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A man donned in a dark, elegant tailcoat sat at his desk, silently penning down a missive under the soft light of his own lantern, while the audible knocking of the grandfather clock in the corner ticks away in a steady rhythm. He paused for a moment, looking up and over towards a portrait of him and his family that hung over a grand fireplace that generously illuminated the rest of his study. He can't help but smile and count his blessings. His wife and young son were his entire world, and he would do anything for them.
"...Papa?" came a quiet, curious timbre that cut through the near silence.
The man veered his attention to the doorway, and low and behold, a small boy that looked to be around the age of eight was looking right at him with pale, golden eyes reminiscent of moonlight.
The boy had taken more after him rather than his mother, a lovely Aarnivalkea with pointed ears, flowing tresses akin to a veil of the nightsky giving way to dawn, and eyes of a striking shade of blue, like ice illuminated in the sunlight. In comparison, the man, a fellow Lantern Fae, held long, smooth hair as dark as a raven's shimmering plumage, rounded ears, and of course, those same lovely golden hues. The boy himself had a much darker gradient of his mother's hair, with his father's rounded ears and eyes.
"Yes, Kyryll? What is it?" the older Fae asked.
"I've finished with my studies, may I go into the forest and play?"
"Hmm," the man pondered for a brief few moments. The little one, like all Fae his age, enjoyed testing his abilities and magics on poor unsuspecting humans. Although Kyryll was quite the mischievous devil, he had a heart far kinder than most Fae, often preferring to help people if he could rather than harm them, if they were good of course. Others of their race would have robbed the poor souls blind, or worse, whilst Kyryll was simply happy with giving them a quick fright, then leading them to safety, similar to how a Seele would gift a person treasure after being lead back to its court.
Still, he would rather not let the young boy go out into the taiga alone, especially at night, and he didn't mind taking on the responsibilities of caring for his child rather than shirking the duty off onto a servant. The letter he was writing was not that important, it could be finished at a later time.
In the end, he gave his son an affirming nod.
"You may, and I'll accompany you. Remember, during nightfall, the wood doesn't differentiate those who pass within it as friend or foe. The last thing your mother and I want is to see your flame get snuffed out before it even had a chance to burn, Little Wisp."
Kyryll pouted, huffing quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly to try and look annoyed at his father. Key word, try. The man merely chuckled in amusement at his son's reaction. It was then that he stood and sauntered towards the boy, placing his hand on his head and tousling his hair softly.
"Mmn, I was going to show you a bit of advanced magic, but if you don't want me to go..."
The child's gaze immediately snapped back on the older man, excitement sparking behind his moonlit hues. Fae can not lie, so there was no reason to doubt his father's words.
The duo leave the luxurious abode they called home and make their way into the forest not too far off. The snow is softly falling tonight, collecting upon the branches of the conifers, and the freezing cold is of no concern to either Fae. Once the two find a large clearing, the raven haired man stepped forward, prompting Kyryll to observe him closely.
He raised his hand, his slender index finger tracing what appeared to be a rune or script of some sort into the air. The symbol stayed suspended in midair, glowing brightly with a gentle, golden light. Then suddenly, he presses his own energy into the marking, and it soon disappeared, with a large barrier taking its place for as long as he himself sustained it.
Kyryll's eyes went wide with amazement.
"Normally Lantern Fae don't gravitate towards defensive spells, but I've learned it's always good to have at least one in your pocket in case of an emergency," the older Fae explained before gesturing for Kyryll to come closer. He dispersed the barrier, then took a knee so that his sight was level with the child's.
"Now it's your turn. You remember the rune I drew in the air?" The boy nods. "Good. Now, don't be disappointed if you don't get this on your first try. Like I said before, it looks quite simple, but this is an advanced level spell."
Kyryll nodded in acknowledgement, then stepped forward this time, taking a deep breath before raising his hand and drawing out the same script his father had used. He waited for a moment before tentatively pressing his fingers to the glowing symbol, testing to see what would happen as he closed his eyes and started to focus. Fastened to the belt at his hip, a very small, ornate lantern holding azure flames started to burn brightly.
A grin etched itself over the raven haired man's tiers as he watched the beginnings of a translucent shape slowly develop. Over the next ten seconds or so, Kyryll had managed to fully form the barrier before it disipated and the child fell to his knees, panting hard as if he had ran a great distance without stopping.
His father had swiftly ducked and caught his son with an unrivaled nimbleness and grace befitting a noble of the Belyi Tsar's court.
"You did well, Little Wisp," he said proudly. "That spell requires a constant flow of energy to keep it up. The fact you actually summoned forth a full bodied barrier on your first attempt is simply remarkable. Keep practicing, and you won't even need to draw the rune, nor will it be such a heavy drain on your magics."
A weary smile claimed the little one's lips, his eyes curving softly as he snuggled into his father's embrace. The flames within his lantern flicker contently, with an obvious hint of joy at the praise he received.
The older Fae carried the boy, allowing the other to catch his breath while he started on the trek home. Once he was rested enough, the child fearlessly lept from his father's arms, transforming into a vibrant will o' wisp with small, flame-like aliforms protruding from it. The true form of all Aarnivalkea, before they were fully matured. When he became an adult, Kyryll would likely find it vastly preferable to simply keep his more human appearance. The true form of a fully matured Fae was...something far more monstrous than the sultry fairies and dainty pixies portrayed in human stories. There was a reason why the Belyi Tsar, the King of the Fae, and the eldest known amongst their race, chose a more approachable looking human appearance rather than showing his true form, even to those within his court. As the Archon of Snezhnaya, one who holds a deep love for the citizens of this nation, the last thing he wanted was for said denizens to be frightened of him.
The raven haired man shook his head, trying not to get too lost in thought. Instead, he watched Kyryll trail along, lighting the path further ahead whilst playfully zipping passed a now incredibly startled owl, and a few other creatures who were awake within these wee hours of the night. He would also stop and flutter excitedly over small objects half buried in the snow, namely shiny stones and lost coins dropped by travelers.
SNAP!
The older fae's head shot up at the sound as it echoed through out the wood, coupled with the frightened yelp of his son. He wasted no time in catching up to the boy, only to find him trapped and hanging in what appeared to be a strange, glowing net attached to one of the numerous tree branches. Kyryll had also been forced back into his human form, fear and panic clinging to his tiny visage.
"PAPA!" he cried out whilst struggling and getting more entangled within the net. "PAPA HELP!"
"Hold on, I'll get you out, Kyryll!" the boy's father had called while moving to cleanly slice the branch with a focused flame, only to be forced back by a large metal arrow whistling passed him and sinking deep into the trunk of the tree.
"Hands off, thief!" a sharp, nasally voice had shouted as a well dressed figure, a Mondstadter if he had to guess, emerged from the cover of darkness accompanied by two larger men, from the desert of Sumeru if their garb was anything to go by. One was holding a massive spear, while the other was wielding a large bow. "Finders keepers! I caught that Fae fair and square, so it belongs to me!"
Pale yellow hues narrowed almost instantly in sheer disgust, while a deep scowl now engraved itself upon his tiers. The absolute gall this wretch had to utter such words in front of him. The raven haired man was not one who was usually quick to anger, but the bile that had just spewed from the other's mouth were enough to make him physically sick to his stomach and his blood to boil.
These men aimed to take his son away from him for gods knows what depravity. That will only happen over his cold, dead body.
"Lord Lawrence, sir," one of the bodyguards started shifting uncomfortably as he watched the man before him, "I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe you could get a Fae pet for your daughter another way-"
"Imbecile!" the shorter man snapped irritably, "There is no other way, now, don't just stand there, go and fetch him, chop chop!"
He can hear Kyryll's frightened cries as the burly man had taken a few steps forward, the snow beneath his feet crunching loudly while his partner stayed near this Lawrence fellow, his weapon aimed at the Fae patriarch.
It's only when the distinct sound of two fingers snapping together echoes and the Sumerian man finds himself set on fire, howling in pain as he rolls into the snow to try and put it out, that Lord Lawrence realizes his mistake. That the raven haired man before him was the little Fae's parent, and not someone attempting to muscle in on his catch.
"N-Now now, we can talk this over like gentlemen, yes?" the coward stuttered nervously, putting his hands up in front of himself in a surrending gesture. "Tell you what, let me go, and I'll pay you that fellow's share there, since he won't be needing it anymore." He motions quickly to the man still wailing as the flames refused to falter in their assault.
All he garnered in response was a soft, yet malicious chuckle and a curious head tilt as pale hues became half-lidded.
"What a pathetic, spineless man you are..."
Suddenly, the air shifts, and the next few moments slow to a blur as his golden eyes fade to a pastel shade of purple, with darker hues trailing from the corners. The older Fae's mouth had vanished, his visage now shadowed and lined with a jagged, almost twisted Chesire grin as his free hand rose up once more. With a mere flick of his wrist, the surrounding area was almost instantly engulfed with vivid, violet flames, leaving no room to escape.
Two spectral silhouettes resembling wings appeared over his back, flaring sharply as the fire swiftly started to close in upon them, the flames growing more and more intense. The bow wielder had tried to fire an arrow, only to garner a shocked expression as the arrow turned to ashes before even coming close to its' target.
"The world will not miss someone like you," he spoke in an eeriely calm manner, juxtaposing the sheer rage that was lacing his words and his now heavily distorted tone. The next sentence, the men couldn't understand, as it was uttered in an ancient, and powerful language. The native tongue of the Fae.
"Φύγε, και άσε τα κόκαλά σου να καούν και να γίνουν στάχτη."
("Begone, and let your bones burn to ash.")
It's now that the flames fully enshroud every individual present save for the still trapped Kyryll. The little one is still quite scared, and yet, he can't help but wonder why his father's flames have gone dead silent when they should be roaring like a wildfire.
By the time the raven haired man had permitted the raging fires to finally dissipate, to his word, there was naught left but three piles of ashes amongst the now melted snow and scorched ground. He brushes a few stray strands of raven hair from his face, tucking them neatly back into place whilst making his way towards his son. The older Fae is quick to cut down the branch and take care of the net with careful and precise motions of a more focused flare.
Once Kyryll was free, the boy immediately hugged onto his father, tears trickling down his pale cheeks and small hands tightly clinging to the soft fabric of his father's dress shirt.
"Sshh, it's okay my Little Wisp," the man soothed with a gentle whisper, petting the child's head as he held him close. "I'm here, Kyryll. You're safe. I promise no one will hurt you so long as I'm here."
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Weary lids slowly fluttered open, a low groan escaping wrinkled lips as groggy golden hues lazily flicked towards the fireplace to watch the flames dance.
Had he fallen asleep? He's not surprised, really. Sleep seems to come easier to the elder Fae now a days. Usually it's only children who require it, seeing as mature Fae didn't need it at all. Perhaps it was the loneliness in his old age that has gotten to him. What's more, it's starting to get the point where it's seeping into his dreams and making him long for days long since passed.
Much had happened in his life. His son had grown into a fine, respectable young gentleman worthy of the name Chudomir. The Belyi Tsar had fallen, and many Fae were put on the spot when the Tsaritsa ascended. Some gave into her wishes and relinquished their governing power to keep their noble status. Others, like himself and his recently late wife, had simply gone into hiding, or left Snezhnaya altogether. Kyryll had been in the latter group.
He has not seen his son in centuries. Was he still alive? If so, was he fairing well? Would he ever get to see him again? He can't help but wonder and hope. He prays for his old body to hold out until he can see his boy again and make sure he was safe and happy.
"Lord Chudomir?" a voice called, catching the old fae's attention.
It was his butler, Simon. A young Fontainian lad in his early twenties who needed a job, and had no clue the man he was caring for was not human.
"Yes, Simon, what is it?"
"I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but, you have guests."
A silver brow arched at that statement. Him? Guests? Who in the world would come to see him at this time of night, let alone would know he was here?
"Who is it?" he asked, grabbing an ornate cane on the side of the armchair he was resting in to help prop himself up. If need be, he'll use the sword hidden inside to defend himself and Simon.
"Well..."
"Come now, don't dawdle, who is it?"
"I think it might be easier for me to show you, sir." With that, the brunet had left the room for a minute or so before returning and bowing his head with a hand over his torso as he drew the old man's attention to the study's opened door.
The cane that Lord Chudomir had been holding slipped free from his loosening grasp at the sight he was greeted with at the doorway. There was no mistaking it, and that notion alone coaxed a small smile to his tiers as his features softened.
"It's been a long time, Little Wisp."
He watched the man before him return that smile, mirrored hues curving lightly as the other let out a chuckle.
"I think I'm a little too old for such a nickname, don't you think, Father?"
"You will always be my Little Wisp, and I'm afraid you'll never outgrow it in my eyes, no matter how old you get," the old man let out a breathy laugh before stepping forward towards his son and raising his hand to gingerly cup his pale cheek.
He was here. He was really here, in the flesh.
"Oh Kyryll. It's so good to see you again, my boy."
A svelte hand rises, clasping over his own as the younger Fae leaned into his touch for a fleeting moment before he removed it and took his father's hand.
"We have much to catch up on, but before we get to that, there's someone I wish for you to meet."
Oh? Color him curious. He merely nods and allows Kyryll to turn and retreat into the hallway to fetch this second guest. When he returns, he's holding the hand of a man with great stature, white hair, and magenta-clad eyes. He looks quite intimidating, enough to scare poor Simon with just his mere presence, and yet there was something more.
The look on Kyryll's face, the tenderness and warmth in his eyes, oh yes. The old noble Fae knows it well. He could see it in this stranger as well, alongside a fierce, protective fire that rivaled his own in his prime.
"Father," Kyryll started, turning his attention towards him, "I would like for you to meet my fiancé, Rerir."