The grievances against the last, remaining Caerwyn was barely at a tipping point. The small, egregious acts of social disrespect and cruelty were next to nothing but petty (and bordering on infantile, if he was being transparent). To crush a soul was not to drown it in grief, but to allow the oxygen to slowly dispel around them. Elias knew the nature of a crushed soul, because he watched it happen before his very eyes. The first, glottal blow of his sisterβs sobbing figure on Dawnβs shores. One that robbed her of the comfort of her family, when all had already been lost. At the hands of the Caerwynβs, no less, who sought to add insult to injury. He read each of his sisterβs long-handed letters, detailing the extent of neglect and torture at the hands of their usurpers. It prompted a need for vengeance, in her older and protective brother. And while the reality was harsh, it did provide him with something else - an intimate knowledge of how to destroy.
Iris was built with Wakefield sensibility; however, and did not break. No, she had only grown stronger, like coal turning to iridescent diamonds before his very eyes. Louisa; however, would not know such luck. Elias long determined himself superior to the fallen Caerwyn, and knew that even in cruelty, he would not be outdone. The death of the oaf that was the Duke Caerwyn was akin to a string quarter to his ears. A symphony of grief, that could only be added to insult. Robbing him of his royal accolades was childβs play. A manner to undo the spirit of his daughter, as she watched his body descend into the plot.
He arrives late to the affair, without the accompaniment of his fiance or his family. No grand, royal procession or dressed in the ceremonial cloths of a High Lord, looking to pay his respects. His choice of attire is thoughtless, and his company is limited to two guards. A slight, meant to showcase the senselessness of the Caerwyn name in Dawnβs ranks. βIt was not a privilege granted to those more deserving than you, Caerwyn.β He states bluntly, blue eyes cross with contempt. His own sister hadnβt a moment to grieve her fatherβs death herself. βWhy so solemn?β He coed, casual and light on his tongue. His hands wrapped around his back, as he looks from behind her, peering at her fatherβs corpse. βHe was a senseless man. As weak as the rest of your namesake.β He spits, vile and closely into her ear. βThere is nothing but a laughable dolt to mourn now, sweet child.β
Her greif was his spectacle. Everything he has done was to break her, trying to keep her under his ruling thumb; he made it into sport. Her performance at the Trials of Oberon was in spite of Eliasβ treatment. She trained for weeks before the tourney at the MΓ΄r. Louisa made she she mastered with wind and dreamwalking abilities; honed like a fresh blade as she walked into the tournament arena. She stood before him now with ire in her veins; inside she was broken and alone, but she will never let him break her.
Elias had turned her home upside down in the matter of moments. The Glass Palace, where Louisa spent all of her life, felt more and more like a museum of the past than a home. She was alone in the den of lions: Wakefields closed in on her. . He turned the Glass Palace--the only home sheβs never known--upside down before her eyes. She was alone, and Wakefields were everywhere she turned. Elias scrubbed every inch of the Palace that had the Caerwyn royal seal inlaid: tile floors, tapestries, portraits, stonework--all was chiseled or thrown away with nor care. How much has changed in the course of month...
As her beloved fatherβs casket thudded to the cold earth, Louisa internalized a sob. He was a giant in life, and a sick man in death. Louisa felt exposed as Elias glared at her; the sound of Eliasβ voice burned Louisa to her core. To Elias; he only saw the dying branch of his rivals. Familia Caerwyn et Wakefield come from the same branch of the Dawn Royal family, but their families couldn't be more different. Not to mention, Elias hated her father the most, for his role in his familyβs exile.Β βWhy canβt you leave me be...β Louisa spat as she picked up her skirts and tried to walk away.Β βYou have what you want, I have no one now! Just leave me to mourn my life in peace. Go, live with your family and let me go.β
