Owlcatober 3. Childhood
POV of a PWOTR post-game collab with @the-raging-tempest with her OC Zrise as companion to Siavash as KC
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Why he had to study Elvish when school wasn’t in session and he’d never met a real elf in his whole long nine years of life defied comprehension. It was some sort of punishment his mom had concocted like one of her gross medicines.
Kyrash kicked in his chair and rubbed his curls with both hands. “Aldar olar sana…ugh.”
Just as he was staring in despair at the aldar casting rippling shadows across the many-paned window of his grandparents’ sitting room, the Prismatic Ray sent him a miracle:
“Sia!”
From the courtyard below, Aunt Leila’s cry announced the singular event Kyrash’s entire existence had been nothing but the lead-up to, the apotheosis of over a year of unbearable anticipation, the very thought of which made him feel like he would throw up butterflies.
Like an arrow he shot downstairs and out the door and raced halfway across the courtyard before reality hit him like a brick wall.
His uncle who was the Knight-Commander of the Fifth Crusade and who had a pet dragon and whose fearsome power even the scariest demons fled before was home from the war…
…and exactly the same as Kyrash remembered him. With his stupid outfit and his guitar slung over one shoulder, laughing and crying into Leila’s neck. Ugh. He always had been huggy.
No dragon, no shining armor, no flaming sword, not even a nasty scar as far as Kyrash could make out.
His mom had warned: You don’t come back from a war like that unchanged.
Kyrash’s last hope hinged upon the carriage gate and the possibility the dragon was just beyond it, or failing that, his uncle’s troupe of wicked crusade buddies. Like the lightning girl. The paladin of Iomedae who wasn’t scared of anything. The crazy dwarf who ran up and stabbed demons with nothing but a rusty knife. The thief with a magic shadow. The gnome Hellknight. The priest of Shelyn who punched demons in the nose and his gladiator brother. The half-goat, half-lizard caveman. The guy who could turn into a griffon. The succubus. (Kyrash knew from the adults’ reaction that there was something embarrassing about whatever those were, but his uncle was friends with a tame demon and that was cool.)
But the gate didn’t budge, and his uncle’s entire entourage appeared to be... one guy.
Who was standing back looking embarrassed by all the hugging. Wearing a sword belt—that counted in his favor, at least. Kinda badass with leather and long black hair and nose piercing. Uncle Siavash’s bodyguard, maybe.
Still, if that was all there was, it wasn’t just underwhelming.
It was betrayal.
Kyrash had been given to believe that his uncle had led entire armies of crusaders to victory against the hordes of the Abyss. On dragonback.
Lies.
Siavash spotted him and held out his arms. “Ky!”
A very small, secret part of Kyrash longed to run to that embrace. This was, after all, his uncle who taught him how to swim and told funny stories and brought him candy and hid it from his mom. They were best buddies when he left a year and a half ago. But now…
“Where’s the dragon?” Kyrash demanded, angry crimson to the pointed ends of his ears.
But in the chaos of the rest of the family pouring out into the courtyard to hug and cry and dote on Siavash, the question went unanswered.
While everyone was milling around introducing each other, Ky stole closer to the bodyguard guy, Zrise, alert for signs he was a fake.
When he caught the boy sizing him up, Kyrash narrowed his eyes. “You look more like a bandit than a crusader.”
"Well we didn't wear our armor cause there aren't demons here, and we don't want to draw any attention. But I did bring my sword. Just in case."
That sounded suspicious. Like he was trying too hard. But before Ky could ask, Zrise popped open the hilt guard with his thumb and drew out a length of real steel before letting it drop back into its scabbard. "I've been using a blade since I was your age. What I mean is... it's not a toy."
"What do you mean just in case?" Kyrash lowered his voice. "Are they after you?"
He started violently as the carriage gate slammed open, but it was just his aunt Fati.
After that it took a while to escape his mom’s vigilance, but as soon as she was busy he sidled up to Zrise again and eyed his sword. "Is that the one you wear for parades or did you really kill demons with it?"
"I’ve never been in a parade. But I’ve killed demons. Devils too. One of them had acid blood that melted away all the leather on the grip."
"Acid blood?" Wide-eyed Kyrash reached out to touch the raven’s head on the pommel but he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t burn. "Sia never talked about that in his letters. One time he said there was a demon made of poop."
"Poop," echoed his small cousin joyfully.
"Ky, that’ll do with that talk." His mom tried to steer him toward the house. "I’m sorry—"
"And there was another one who had no eyes. And one that looked like a moth. And some that looked like big, round bags of garbage." He turned an accusatory eye on his uncle.
“Everything I wrote in my letters was technically true,” Uncle Siavash protested with that carefree laugh he always had.
And then something strange happened.
To Ky it was like time slowed down. The chatter around him faded to distant background noise. In his vision everything grew dark except one bright beacon of rosy, sparkling light.
Which was his uncle.
It wasn’t always as fun as I made it sound. Don’t tell.
Kyrash nodded slowly. Suddenly it all made sense. He didn’t know why it made him want to cry.
It’s all right, Ky.
And then the moment passed. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. A feeling like that bright, sparkly light still shone in his middle, and he knew it was true. It was all right.
