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2412, Xavem 20, Velpa
Rhys hefted a dusty sheet to block out the morning sun when a pane from the nearby window snapped. Rusting metal and glass shards clattered to the moldy wooden floor in an audible crash resounding around the house. His throat constricted as he whirled to his sister, sleeping on the only mattress he could find. A sigh of relief tore from his lips when she stayed still, her back to him.
He faced the damaged window and cursed it with all his might. His entire vocabulary spilled out of his mouth like a torrent. This was the only time his sister got to sleep in three days and it dared disturb her by clattering to the ground? Rude.
If his mother was here, she would pinch his ear and twist it, all the while ranting at full volume about the bad effects of swearing. Ha, as if he's going to listen to his mother. The memory brought forth a small smile to his lips. It also reminded him of everything that he had lost in the past days, months, and years. His amusement vanished, replaced with a wave of searing anger coiling at his heart.
It's bad enough that he had a father who wanted nothing but to hoard power enough to hate his wife. Then, his sister just had to see their mother murdered by a mysterious voice and be blamed for it. As if that wasn't the final straw, his father went crazy after being given emergency authority over the kingdom before the Council could agree which one of the royal children fit best to replace the deceased Queen.
It's also bad enough that their father hated the idea of women being in power and took it out on Reeca. His sister, unfortunately, has a weakness in accessing intangible trails and their father took this as an opportunity to drag her down. Rhys saw it first hand—how it affected Reeca and how triumphant their father had felt when the Council declared his sister unfit for the crown.
Then come their mother's murder. Their father saw it as an escape to get rid of Reeca for all eternity. Rhys had been watching behind the curtains of the dais, clenching and unclenching his fists at that apparent abuse of power. All these years, Rhys understood why the King would hate Reeca. It's all a matter of conviction and beliefs.
What Rhys didn't understand was why their father had been willing to go to great lengths to host a trial and public humiliation of a traumatized girl. Who, in their sanity, would do that to his own daughter?
Rhys had always been favored by the King, just as Reeca was by the Queen. It didn't get into his head, thank the gods. He doubted he ever would. His family deserved his love—equally. After seeing what his father had done to his sister, he couldn't stand by and watch. Not anymore.
So, he stepped out from behind the curtains, knocked the King off his throne with a mighty blast of weaving energy, and proceeded to wreck the throne room. Back then, there's only one thought on his head—if they didn't want his sister, then they would lose him, too.
His father had been furious.
Days after they fled Arcole, the King had sent countless soldiers, court officials, and even personal slaves to beg Rhys to come back. Rhys would give them the same answer—pardon Reeca's court-imposed "crime" and he would come back.
