Chapter Text
Casmire stood on the top of the tallest tower of the Zvezda Castle as he watched the remaining soldiers of the republic retreat out of the city. He narrowed his eyes as he cast a barrage of lightning bolts to strike the stragglers at the back, causing their comrades to panic and hurry out of the city even quicker. He’d catch them another day, there was no rush; but first he’d have to find his brother, make sure he wasn’t hurt. “Rhiannon knows where he is now after running off to go attack a regiment.” Casmire thought as he turned away from the retreating army. A strange sense of uneasiness and dread had found itself in his head somewhere at the end of the battle, and he couldn’t seem to shake it off.Something that he did not want to admit was that he was worried, the last time he had such an adamant feeling was when Natashya had disappeared; before they had found her corpse. He wondered if something had happened to Milos. His dear little brother was a little unstable now - though little might not be the correct description - and while Casmire wouldn’t mind if Milos decided to go on a rampage against the humans, it was a high chance he would get hurt or killed; and he did not want that.
He’d be all alone then.
Leaping off the tower, the wind rushed past his ears in a sharp whistling sound as he landed in a couple Malinovy Sneg trees planted under the tower and rolled to the snowy ground to cushion his fall. Sticking his head up from under the snowbank, he got to his feet and brushed himself off, sustaining only minor scratches from the branches and a little bruising from crashing into the trees, not as bad as broken bones or necks. Looking around, he saw that he was in Milos’ old garden, where he used to tend to flowers and vegetables in the greenhouse before he had been locked away. It had become overgrown with the rose vines of the Zvezdnaya roza which he had planted for their sister on her seventh birthday, the vines snaking up the tower and the walls of the courtyard the garden had been in the centre of, as well as crushing all the other flowers that had formerly inhabited the garden. They had stayed away from the Maalinovy Sneg though, as growing on it would make the roses’ thorns pierce its bark and the toxic sap of the Crimson Snow made anything it touched feel like it was burning, so the roses stayed clear away.
The former king and queen had asked Milos why he wanted a tree which could cause such pain inside his garden, to which he had replied, “ Well, if you treat it well and do not harm it, it will do the same and do you no harm,” as he had planted the small saplings in the ground, snow dutifully shoveled out of the way, “ They’re just like people, treat them with goodness and respect and they will not desire to hurt you.” Casmire agreed on that, he thought solemnly as he watched the plumes of smoke rise outside the castle walls, treat people with kindness and they will or harm you; but now the humans had attacked them and mercilessly killed them all, so he would do the same; it was only fair after all.
Turning back to the trees he had landed in, he reminisced about the past as he stared at the broken swing hanging from one of its branches. He remembered how tirelessly Milos and Natashya had worked to make it for him when he had always chosen to read instead of helping with the garden. Milos had kept pestering him to try growing some plants but after witnessing how abysmal Casmire was at taking care of living things compared to him, settled for making him somewhere to sit and read while still being somewhat involved in their activities. Natshya had liked to make flower crowns for him based on the colour of the cover of the book he was currently reading, and until now, he still kept them hanging on the bookshelf in his room. Walking through the garden he approached the greenhouse, and stopping in front of the overgrown doors he let out a small sigh. Milos had always been so proud of the vegetables he had managed to grow in the harsh and inhabitable soils of the northern mountains; something everyone else struggled to accomplish, a reason why the witches mostly ate meat. As practically only potatoes and carrots could even hope to grow in the hard and dry ground. While their parents had applauded him for managing to grow even vegetables not native to the lands, being a prince meant he was not exactly looked high on for choosing to have a hobby that made him look like a common farmer.
Peering through the frosted glass, Casmire could see that the plants were all long dead without Milos’ careful care, the vegetable beds all empty and barren, the dead plants having decomposed back into the soils. They must have never considered ever letting Milos out of his tower again, if they had not bothered to take care of his beloved garden. Casmire frowned as he looked at his father’s crown on his head in the reflection. He really loved his parents, he really did, but he was not pleased at how easily they had given up on Milos after only a couple incidents. Sure, maybe a person or more had gotten burnt. But it was their fault for insulting Milos and teasing him about his burns, calling him names - or accusing him of not rescuing the princess before she died. Milos was not in the wrong, he was just standing up for himself. It wasn’t his fault Casmire let the human boy in. It wasn’t his fault Casmire was too trusting and not listening to his parents on how deceiving the humans were. If anything, Milos had tried to warn him as well, but he had insisted that Theo would not do anything and to believe in his goodness.
He really should have listened.
If he had, maybe everyone would still be alive.
Maybe everyone would have been happy.
Turning away from the glass he trudged through the snow, he would not get caught up in the past again. They were right, humans were not to be trusted, he saved one from dying and this is how he was repaid? He gritted his teeth as he blasted open the lock on the door connecting the courtyard to the castle, he was a fool for thinking they could be trusted. Casmire swore to himself that he would exterminate every single last one of those scheming, two faced foxes from the face of Sidereus. They took everything from him.They would not be allowed to harm anyone else anymore; he’d make sure of that.
As he walked through the empty halls of the castle, he began to feel glum and regretful once more. These halls had once been filled with life and joy, but now it was a dark and dusty thing with the faint smell of lingering blood clinging to its walls. Walking back out the front doors, he crossed the courtyard where blood and melted remains covered the ground, a light layer of fallen snow covering the bodies. Milos had really done a number on the castle he thought, glancing at the many holes in the ground where lava had spewed out from the world’s crust to reduce the soldiers to human jelly. As he crossed the courtyard, he purposefully made sure to step through as many melted corpses as he could out of pure spite, not caring if his boots were now covered in guts and blood; the snow would clean them off, after all, it was what they deserved. Trodden on and walked over like dirt. Scouring through the desolate city, he searched high and low for his brother while adamantly keeping his eyes off the fallen witches. But after near an hour of searching for Milos, he grew worried that something had happened to his twin. But as he had learnt from reading his books, nothing is truly dead until you see the body, and he hadn’t seen the retreating soldiers take anything with them. He continued to search for Milos, calling out his name in the empty streets and attempting to follow the trail of charred bodies but to no avail. Passing by a market square, his eyes zeroed in on a spear lodged into the ground with a trail of blood leading to Milos’ broken hair accessory laying a couple feet from it. The blood looked as if a body had been dragged through it. His mind raced with screams to kill whoever had done it as he clenched his hands into tight fists.
Kill them.
Kill them.
K̶i̸l̴l̶ ̸t̸h̶e̸m̸.̸ ̷
̶̮̈́K̶͎̇į̵͐ḻ̶͠l̸̰͐ ̷̛̤t̷̢̂h̴͉̀e̶̲̐m̴̠̈.̷͈̀ ̶̧̃
K̷͔̽̍̋̀̈́i̴̬͖̼̓̈́l̵͇̺̪̘̓͋l̷̦̫̣͈̣̆̑͑ ̶̮͚̬̀̆̇́͘t̶̠͎̔͘h̶̨͈̠͓́͆͊͜͝è̷͉̻̜̗̥͘ḿ̸̩̙̋̎.̷̻̼̚ ̵̞͚̐̉̀͗͋
̷͉̿̕K̸̘̼͉̤̈́̔͂̉ì̶͉̪͕̙̭̐̾l̶̨͇͑̽̄͝l̴̻͈̆̂ ̶̥̻͑t̴̻̖̣͛̈́͐̽ḩ̸̤͕̊̈̓̀e̸̢̖͙̙̣̾m̶͇͕̜̈́̏.̸̨͖̝̝͗́ ̸̝̺̠̿͂̏͘͠
̶̢͇̻̮̉̓͆̿K̷̗͗̈́͛̍̾͛͋̕ì̵̛̙̘̦̘͍͐̌̃̀̃̕̕͜͜ļ̴̬͔̖̅́̊́͑̚ͅl̸͚̋̈́̌̈́̏͘ ̵͙̳̦̥̹̟͆̓t̵̨͇̻̐̈̋͝h̴̺̟̭͙̖̗̣̹̖́̑̂̒̿̑͂̕͘ě̸̛̪̫̰̮̃̐̀͊̕͜m̵̻̍̀͠.̴̡͎̗͉̀̊͐̈́͌͗̐̈ ̵̨̙̰͎̪̾͛̀̍̅͊͗̃̚
.̴̢̨̡͇̬͔͙̪̤͚̈͋͛͜ͅ
The crimson liquid smeared across the stone pavement of the square. Casmire felt his heart drop into his stomach as he ran closer to inspect it, sucking in a sharp breath before kneeling down as his eyes traced the path of the smear of blood. Getting back to his feet , he snatched the hair accessory in his hand, running along the trail of blood and watching it get fainter and fainter as it led him to the forest of Malinovy Snegs outside the city where they had buried Natashya.
Running across the bridge at the edge of the city his mind raced with countless possibilities. Was Milos dead? Was that why he had been feeling a sense of dread? But then who took his body? Not a human- that’s for sure, he made sure his lightning glyph specifically targeted any soldier in a certain radius; and no one could evade them while dragging around dead weight. But as he left the stone pavement behind to follow the trail into the forest, a sight made him falter in his run. Large claw prints could be seen imprinted in the ground, although smudged by a body being dragged through most of it. Casmire’s eyes narrowed as he summoned his battle axe once more. The prints weren’t made by a human, that’s for certain, but they also weren’t made by any animal; because he could not recall any sort of creature that could walk forward while dragging a man in its mouth and not tripping over his body. Stumbling forward in the general direction of the blood, the clearing, a strange force seemed to begin weighing him down as he got closer as if weights had suddenly been tied to his feet, blood pounding in his ears while his vision swam and spots of darkness began to cloud his eyesight, sparks of violet and gold mixed in. Casmire let out a groan as he lost focus of his magic causing the battle axe in his grip to explode into lightning, striking the foliage around him and setting the trees ablaze as he face planted into the cold snow.
He balled his hand into a fist, resisting the invisible pressure being exerted upon his body and refusing to give up, not when Milos was most definitely in danger. Casmire planted his hands into the snow and pushed himself back up again, his body resisting the movement as his head throbbed and his stomach protested with much nausea.Weakly getting back to his feet, he grit his teeth together in determination, his eyes ablaze with lightning as he put a foot forward, relying on the trees for support. The clearing was just ahead; he could do it. Another sharp pain in his head nearly made him vomit as his eyes watered in pain. What in Rhiannon’s star was happening? Taking a shaky breath he continued to push forward, snow crunching under his feet as he abruptly compared it to the snapping sounds of the bones of the soldiers he had slowly crushed in his grip. Whatever had been causing the sudden spike in magic in the area had seemed to notice that he wasn’t staying down as it had intended and responded with another wave of concentrated mana as Casmire’s legs gave out once more on him, and this time, he really could not get up. A feeling of helplessness surged through his immobilized body as he slumped to the ground. He let out a raspy wheeze as he struggled to even move his finger, a single thought running through his head as the darkness returned to consume him whole.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up-
Suddenly a voice spoke out to him as he slipped into unconsciousness, “ Gosh, you’re so stubborn. How could he ever possibly change your mind? Still, resisting my celestial magic is… commendable.” it spoke as his already damaged hearing began to fail on him, making the voice sound even more muffled than normal. “ Don’t worry Appolyon. It’s not his time to die; not anymore. You can thank yourself for that.” the voice purred as Casmire passed out, but not before catching a glimpse of a horned shadow being cast over him.
“ Good night, little fox.”
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“Can’t you understand that I don’t want to kill anyone?” Milos pleaded as Rhiannon turned her attention back to him, her eyes locking onto his desperate ones. She sighed and shook her head, closing her eyes, “ It’s not about what you want, Milos. It’s about what needs to be done. You don’t have a choice in it, if you refuse to right the world, Dies Irae will destroy it immediately; no use in keeping around a world whose judge is blind to justice.” She snapped, a thought going through her head. Of course his twin was also persistent and stubborn, runs in the blood she supposed, she thought as she looked down at Milos, seeing the same determination reflected in the eyes of the other lying in the cold snow. “ And that’s a certain death for him. So what would you rather? Try and turn him back with the risk of having to kill him, or, his certain death.” Rhiannon frowned as she saw Milos falter. “ Please child, I’m giving you a choice, a chance to save him. To save everyone.” Milos turned his head away as he grit his teeth, “ Are you sure about that, your highness? Because what I’m seeing is that he’s going to die either way! You’re using him as a bargaining chip so I can also clean up your other messes.” he snapped as he took another step backwards.
Rhiannon stared at him with narrowed eyes as she responded. “ Well don’t you at least want to come back to life?” Milos’ breath caught in his throat as he faltered for a second before he caught himself and grit up at the fae queen, “ I- Well not as a weapon!” he exclaimed, his brows knitted together in frustration. She sighed and turned away, walking away from him. “ It seems that I really am unable to change your mind. Regardless of whether or not you agree, I will send you back. My successor will fall to Sidereus soon; he’ll guide you well enough.” She spoke as magic began to swirl around Milos who glanced around in shock. “Hey- wait!” he shouted as the golden stardust began to cloud his vision, transporting him through space and time. “ I’ll tell the Clock Keeper to find you and correct his mistakes.” Rhiannon added as an afterthought as she watched the young witch fade away into nothingness. By her calculations, it wouldn't be more than a day since he died, so his brother wouldn't have to lay in snow for too long.
She hoped that Milos wouldn't mind being a walking corpse too much.
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Casmire awoke with a start , lurching to his feet as he swayed unsteadily. Immediately he began to walk forward again, mind instantly set on finding Milos. The previous aura of heavy mana had now vanished, leaving him free to run through the forest without anything pressing down on him or holding him back. Glancing at the snow, he noticed that the blood had seemed to have begun to oxidise, turning a dark red from having been exposed to the air for some time. He pushed through a series of foliage blocking the path and entered the clearing where Natashya had been buried, eyes sweeping around before locking onto a unconscious form laying in the snow right above the gravestone.
Casmire’s eyes widened and he took a sharp inhale of breath as he rushed forward to cradle Milos’ unconscious body in his arms, eyes glancing over his injuries; taking note of the missing eye and bloody eye socket, as well as the mysterious stitches all around his neck glowing with a golden, otherworldly light. “ Milos! Milos! Wake up!” He barked, shaking him by his shoulders , a pit of dread filling his stomach when he felt how cold he felt; finding it akin to how Natashya had felt when they had found her frozen and dead in the snow. Pressing his fingers to Milos’ pulse point, he began to panic when he was unable to feel anything, thinking that Milos was dead; maybe he had taken too long to find him, he thought. Casmire continued to shake and scream at Milos frantically, his usual calm and stoic attitude beginning to slip, not wanting to believe that he was actually dead. “ Milos- Milo, get up! You can stop pretending now… Milos, get up! You’re scaring me!” he gasped, voice cracking just a little from emotion as he continued to grip onto his brother. “ I order you, wake up! I’ll kill whoever did this to you- I’ll do anything, just- please, please don’t die…” He whispered as he looked down in disbelief at Milos. In the back of his mind, he laughed bitterly at the irony of the situation. Here he was, holding his twin's dead body right above the grave of their sister, who had also died in the cold, bitter snow. Screw letting the soldiers go, he would hunt every single one of them down and rip their organs out of their bodies, slowly and agonizingly, he wanted them to suffer and scream in pain. No, he wanted all of them, every single human, to bear the punishment for their crimes.He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Casmire chuckled to himself darkly, imagining the sounds of bones being crushed, the snapping sounds they would make, the grotesque squelching sounds of guts being crushed in his grip filled his mind as he imagined the looks of pure horror and fear on the faces of the humans he killed.
“ Hurk- ugh… Cas…?” He heard a soft voice rasp from under him as he snapped out of his murderous trance to see Milos staring up at him blearily, a trail of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. Casmire startled for a quick second before he grabbed Milos’ arms and held them tightly, “ Milos! You’re not dead? Thank the stars above!” he whispered in shock as he pulled him into a tight hug, Milos spluttering out a weak protest as he thumped his back. “ Ow… you’re crushing me.” Casmire eventually let him go, though he still found it weird how cold he felt, extremely odd with the increased body temperature of the northern witches. Even if he had been human, he was as cold as a corpse, but he was alive wasn’t he? So this must just be temporary, and he’d warm up again, eventually.
“ You scared me, you know! I thought you were dead! Don’t you dare ever do that again, you hear me? I can’t lose you too.” Casmire frowned, holding Milos by his shoulders as the younger boy nodded slightly, wincing as he moved his neck. “ Ah… yeah, I got it.” Milos answered with a thin smile, as if he wanted to say something more but had decided not to say it, a look of guilt in his eyes. Casmire mistook it as a sign that he had felt guilty for making him worry that he was dead, Milos had died, cold and alone with his eye staked through by a spear and his head separated from his body. Casmire didn’t need to know. And Casmire patted him comfortingly on his shoulder. “ Don’t feel bad. I’m not angry at you. I’m glad that you’re alive… though, not exactly uninjured…” Casmire spoke, voice trailing into a harsh tone as his attention was caught by the gaping wound in Milos’ head. “Doesn’t it hurt? What happened?” He demanded, taking Milos’ chin in his grip as he lifted his face to look at him while he inspected the wound. Milos frantically shook his head and extracted himself from Casmire’s harsh grip before waving his brother’s concerns off frantically , beginning to shake his head but the sharp burst of pain reminded him that he had been fatally injured there. “ Ah-not really… A soldier speared my eye, I was careless. But it didn’t hit my brain so I’m still fine, mostly.” He lied as he averted his eyes from Casmire’s intense stare. Gosh, his brother really did seem to stare into people’s souls. Casmire let out a tsk sound in response, furrowing his brows together. “ You’re still bleeding out. I’ll patch you up in the castle. And what about your neck?” he pushed, watching as Milos tensed up and covered the stitches using his scarf and stuttering. “ Oh, this? I- uh, this is just a scratch. Please don’t worry. I’m fine.” he insisted, taking a step backwards and hoping Casmire would accept his shoddy excuse.
Casmire stared at him wordlessly, crossing his arms as he assessed the situation. Milos did not want to talk about it so he wouldn't push too much; he could probably guess that it was the result of the fight with the soldiers anyway. “ So your eye is gone?” he questioned and Milos nodded dejectedly, his remaining eye downcast as he shifted on his feet.
“I see.” Casmire muttered before turning away and beckoning for Milos to follow. He would’ve fussed about it more but Milos seemed a little shaken and he didn’t want to aggravate his brother any more than necessary. Milos wordlessly ran after him as they trudged out of the woods and back into the city where they were once again greeted by the strong smell of charred wood and iron in the air, reminding them that everyone was really dead, and not coming back. Casmire stared straight ahead, not sparing a glance to any of the corpses covering the roads as he focused on walking back to the castle, Milos gritting his teeth slightly and shooting the bodies apologetic looks as he did his best to avoid accidentally stepping on them. Reaching the castle walls, Milos was suddenly faced by the realisation that he had brutally murdered hundreds of soldiers in cold blood as his eyes landed on the remains strewn across the castle courtyard. “ Don’t look at them.” Casmire snapped as he grabbed Milos’ arm and pulled him along, dragging him through the blood stained snow and into the main hall.
“ I’ll go find some medical supplies left from our soldiers first. Go to your room and pack up, I’ll meet you there.” He ordered, not turning to look at Milos who raised a confused eyebrow at him. “ Where are we going? Don’t do things so suddenly.” he asked as he stopped in the centre of the hall. “ We can’t stay here anymore. The soldiers might send reinforcements and that would be dangerous to sit through. If we stay here then we’d be nothing more than sitting ducks. I don’t make rash decisions, Milos.” Casmire replied as he kneeled down in front of an abandoned first aid kit lying near the door before continuing. “ I know someone that would help us out and give us protection from the Republic. If we cross the sea and head to the capital of the Soleil Empire, I’m sure Emperor Ciel would let us hide there.” Milos walked closer again, speaking a bit faster now, “ They’re humans! Are you planning to go there and then kill them?” he spoke, brows furrowing as Casmire rolled his eyes. “ I’m not that hot-headed. As long as the emperor grants us asylum they’ll do no such thing to harm us, and I won’t kill them, yet.” Milos scoffed and crossed his arms, “ Yet? You’re really going to turn on them, huh?” Casmire picked up a roll of bandages and a bottle of disinfectant and made Milos sit down. “ I’m just playing by their rules. If they are allowed to turn on us then I’m allowed to turn on them. You’re welcome to watch if you aren’t going to do anything.” he said challengingly, as if to see whether Milos was going to back down or not. Milos didn’t reply.
“ Regardless, we’re crossing the sea tomorrow. Pack up and we'll head off as soon as we can. There’s no time to loiter around.” he huffed as he dabbed a bit of disinfectant onto Milos’ wound, who hissed in pain, “ And stop struggling so much before your eye gets poked again.” he chided as he held him still. Milos instinctively pulled away from the stinging liquid as he whined, “ It burns-” “ And you’re going to get an infection so stop moving-” “ Ow ow ow ow-” Casmire finally got Milos to stay still enough for him to apply the disinfectant and wrap the bandages around his head, absentmindedly thinking in the back of his head that Milos seemed more grounded right now, his mood relatively normal and not flipping around as much as before. He wondered how that was but he was glad that Milos was currently more stable. “ You’re… good at this.” Milos observed as he gently touched the bandages wrapped around his head that kept the blood from running down his face. Casmire shrugged nonchalantly as he put the materials away. “ I’m used to patching up our soldiers after battle.” he answered as he stood up again, walking towards the stairs at the end of the hall. “Oh.” Milos muttered as he got up and followed him, “ I’ll go pack up now…” he sighed as he turned another way.
As he reached the outside of his room in the tallest tower he glanced at the many padlocks lying on the floor that used to seal his door shut. The glyphs that had been drawn on his door had been scrubbed off by Casmire when he broke in, the symbols smudged and muddied. Entering the room, Milos avoided all the broken glass and splintered wood as he searched for a bag, or anything to carry and important belongings. He eventually found one in a chest behind a toppled bookshelf and began cramming some useful items into it, including a chipped kitchen knife, a somewhat damaged map of Sidereus, an empty water flask that he could fill later, and a couple spell books that he hadn’t destroyed in his five years of imprisonment. As he was about to leave his room for the last time, a black hardcover book with bloodstains on it sitting on his desk caught his attention. Picking it up, he realised that it was the diary Casmire and natashya had gifted him for his thirteenth birthday. He hadn’t written in it much for the past half a year and was mostly just collecting dust, but he had written down quite a bit over the years, some things less than savoury.
He contemplated leaving it behind but something inside him prompted him to take it with him as he stuffed it inside his bag, not leaving him any time to second guess as he quickly left the room.
There would be no returning for him.