MONARCHY | DRACO MALFOY

i. the screaming man

chapter i

NEVER ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER. It's a saying mostly associated with those who are born from the same womb.

Astre and Altair Monarch are no different.

When imagination runs wild and wonder fills in every space, Astre and Altair — Altair and Astre — were always seen chasing butterflies, greedily eating ice cream cones of their respective favourite flavours, and being two little angels to any adults they encountered. They would always receive compliments about how adorable little ones they were, and that the older twin should always be there for the little one (even if the younger twin was welcomed a couple of minutes later). And despite those words, Altair (the older twin by ten minutes) was the crybaby and Astre was the shield. Altair was the wary child and Astre was the exuberant one. There were times when they were growing up and the girl had to chase away bad classmates with her angry yells since the boy was the subject of every boy's insecurity. Altair is too pretty to be a boy. He should just disappear just like his parents. Of course, Astre didn't let that pass. She would fight and her older twin brother would thank her with dripping tears on the way home.

On an evening when they were ten was when the roles reversed.

The sun was kissing the horizon but Astre didn't come home from her daily adventures in the nearest playground of their suburban neighbourhood. Altair, who was promised that his sister would watch his favourite telly program with him, bounced on the heels of his feet while waiting for her. Minutes became hours and the tangerine skies turned midnight blue. Altair was starting to regret never going with her to the playground, opting to stay within the confines of their home to get some afternoon sleep — primary school was draining. And so, he ran. He thought she just made new friends but when she was nowhere to be found in the desolate, almost abandoned-for-the-day playground, Altair became frantic. Until he heard little sniffles coming from inside the slide of the obstacle course.

"Attie?" was the first thing he said to his crying baby sister while twiddling with his thumbs, shoulders slightly lifting to make himself smaller. Astre curled on herself and it urged Altair to take a step. "Attie, why are you crying?"

She was hiding herself, her arms covering her head. "Look away."

"What's wrong? Why are you hiding?"

Astre vehemently shook her head.

"Attie. Aunt Cerise will be worried if you don't tell what's wrong."

After a couple of minutes of coaxing, Astre finally lifted her head. She cried again when Altair gasped at the state of her hair and face. She looked nothing like the adorable little girl the old ladies fawned over. Her long golden locks were chopped in differing lengths, most likely done by a pair of child-friendly scissors. Dirt marred her cheeks, mixing in with the tears that never stopped flowing. Astre kept crying and Altair immediately hovered around her with frantic hand movements.

"The other kids in the playground told me I'm too weird because I'm talking to the flowers. They don't believe that the daisies and dandelions were speaking to me. But I believed the flowers' words — that they are bad buds who couldn't bloom into pretty flowers like them. So, I told them what the flowers told me and they got angry." Astre buried her face in her hands. "They cut my hair and threw dirt on my clothes. They called me a witch!"