Chapter 4 - Nightlight

It was well after midnight, and most of the castle's inhabitants were sleeping safer and more soundly than they had since Gramorr's invasion. They were thrilled to be out of the dungeons and back in their own beds.

There were two, however, who found themselves wide awake with little hope of sleeping any time soon.

Iris had been stunned when she was first shown to what was apparently her room. It was actually made up of several smaller, interconnected rooms. Practically an apartment, and a big one. There was a dining area for any meals not eaten downstairs, a little library with a desk for working, a luxurious bathroom, a closet big enough to feel more like a dressing room, and of course the actual bedroom.

Iris felt alarmingly independent, as if she'd suddenly been given her own house. The guard who'd led her up assured her that someone would always be stationed just down the hallway, if she needed anything. Still, that wasn't exactly a substitute for having Aunt Ellen sleeping one short staircase away.

Ellira, Iris reminded herself. She had to get used to calling her that. Ellira was a very important person, apparently. A high general of some sort, and trusted right hand of the Queen. Iris couldn't very well address somebody like her as "Aunt Ellen."

The bed was the softest and most comfortable she could imagine. It must have been magically enhanced. It had to be. She should have been sweltering under the thick comforter, but she was just pleasantly cozy. It was like lying inside a cloud that gave her exactly the right amount of support. She was wearing a nightgown made of something far smoother than silk.

And she couldn't sleep. She was tossing and turning, managing to ache in spite of the support and comfort. Part of it was because of the battle, she knew. Gramorr and the twins had left a good number of bruises.

But it was the emotional bruises that kept her awake.

She felt... weird about destroying Gramorr. She didn't want to be responsible for any death, but he'd certainly had it coming.

Praxina, though. Praxina haunted her.

"It's your fault, too!" Mephisto's devastated voice echoed in her mind. The guilt that had lodged itself in her chest earlier was still firmly in place, pulsing and burning like a hot coal.

She wished she knew what happened. Then she would know if it was really her fault or not. All she'd seen was the aftermath. Mephisto's face, twisted into something almost grotestic with grief. Her ears still rang with the sound of him screaming his sister's name as if his heart had been violently torn from his chest.

She remembered how subdued he had been, ever since. The way he stayed timidly in the shadows and flinched whenever somebody looked at him. This wasn't the Mephisto she'd thought she knew. He was broken.

Out of nowhere, Iris remembered the moment she'd given Praxina that friendship bracelet. The innocent joy in her usually frigid eyes.

If only she hadn't returned to Mephisto. Maybe none of this would have happened. But, then again, she'd have been lost to him either way.

The raw, desperate anger Mephisto had shown that day... that didn't hold a candle to the way he'd looked at Gramorr after Praxina fell.

Iris sat up, drawing her knees to her face and sobbing quietly into her plush blankets.

They'd cared so much about each other. Even Praxina, though she didn't often show it. And now they were apart, never to be reunited. The pain in Mephisto's eyes would probably never go away.

And it was Iris' fault, she was certain. She was never quite able to control her Shanila mode. Anything could have happened.

She'd... maybe not killed Praxina, exactly. But she'd caused her death, either way.

After a while she settled back down and continued her futile efforts to sleep. Tears leaked from her eyes and wet her pillow.

Gosh, how she wanted Nathaniel. He'd hold her until the tears dried and whisper sweet nothings until she felt better. He'd convince her it wasn't her fault.

She should have told him the real reason for her sudden departure. He'd have understood. But maybe it was just as well. He'd still be alone, except that he'd also be forced to keep her secret for her.

Maybe we were doomed from the start, she thought miserably. It certainly didn't seem as if their fates were intertwined.

She turned over, gloomy musings broadening to Earth in general. She felt so homesick. No, that couldn't be right. She was home.

She sighed.

No. That was the lie she kept telling herself. Auriana, Talia, Carissa and Lyna, they were home. She wished she could be as happy and relieved as they were. But Iris was raised on Earth. She felt a magical connection to this planet, as any Ephedian would, but it wasn't home. She had no memories of Ephedia. Everything was so strange. The people, the customs, the food. Even this bed. Strange and foreign and wrong.

Maybe... maybe she could visit Earth. Her spirits rose at the thought. Yes, she could go back and see Nathaniel and Joanna and Brenda and Zack and all her other friends. She could eat a pizza and see a movie and wear her old clothes and breathe air that didn't tingle with magic and-

Her heart sank. No. No, she couldn't leave for that long. She was the Crown Princess. She was desperately needed, here. There were all these confusing new responsibilities that she was now saddled with. She wasn't going to be going anywhere for a long time.

Iris suddenly felt very young and small and scared. She wished she knew where Aunt- where Ellira was. She could probably ask, but... surely Ellira was sleeping peacefully. Iris didn't want to wake her.

To top off the wave of melancholy, Mephisto's scream replayed in her head, completely unbidden. A vague image of Praxina being hit by a rock formed in her mind's eye. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

Mephisto didn't have anyone to go to for comfort. Not anymore. Her chest burned with guilt at the thought.

This was going to be a very long night.

Mephisto didn't think he'd be able to sleep. In a trance-like state of blank sorrow, it was a miracle that he was even able to follow a reluctant guard's directions to his new room.

It was modest and sparse, but contained the essentials. Just a wash basin on a stand, a chest for storage, and a bed. Nothing fancy.

On the other hand, Mephisto had spent the last several months sleeping between two blankets on a freezing stone floor. He'd have settled for a warm rug. An entire bed, with actual pillows, was almost too much luxury to comprehend.

He was mentally and physically exhausted, by the fight and the day's emotions and all the crying.

The combination of these factors suddenly overwhelmed him. He collapsed face-down on the bed, still fully clothed, and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

Everything was fine. Mephisto could breathe, again. He didn't feel broken.

"Why do I feel... good?" His eyes widened. "That must mean-"

He turned and there she was, looking away from him, her hair blowing in the breeze.

"Praxina?!" He choked out.

She looked at him and smiled. He hadn't seen her smile like that since they were little kids.

Mephisto ran to her and grabbed her tightly in his arms. He shook with hysterical laugh-sobs, inhaling her scent greedily as if he could never fill his lungs enough with it. She smelled sharp and ashy like burning spice, with a metallic tang like the air before a lightning storm. There was an underlying damp smell, too, like the cave.

She smelled like home.

"Prax- Praxina..." Tears ran down his face and into her hair. He was still trembling. "I thought you were gone. I thought you... Oh, thank the Melzors... "

She hugged him back, though her arms were stiff. "Brother..." Her voice was warm, then suddenly turned to bitter ice. "Is this how you act when I'm gone?"

Mephisto's eyes flew open, the pupils shrinking. Praxina stepped backwards, out of his embrace. Her face was cold and stern. The temperature in the room plummeted, along with his stomach.

"Prax?" he whimpered. "I don't under-"

"I leave you alone for less than a day, and I come back to find you groveling at the Princesses' feet! Blubbering in their arms like a child!"

Mephisto flinched at her scornful tone. "Praxina, please! I thought you were dead!"

Her eyes flashed. "And you thought the best way to avenge my death was to immediately, without a second thought, stoop so low as to become a sniveling royal minion?!"

He was crying again, hot stinging tears. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"You should have taken the mask, you idiot!" Her furious expression scared him. "You knew that was what I would have wanted! And you threw it all away!"

He clenched his shaking fists. "But I didn't want it," he said quietly.

"When has what you wanted ever mattered?" Praxina snarled.

The raw truth of this statement made Mephisto stagger, as if he'd been punched in the gut.

"If you'd stood up to me sooner, none of this would have happened!" Her words continued to slice into him.

The world slid sideways. Mephisto felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He blinked and suddenly he was standing in the aftermath of the battle. Praxina was gone.

"PRAXINA?!" He jerked his head, looking for her.

He heard a roar behind him and whipped around. Banes was standing there, the mask lying on the ground between them.

"Vengeance..." Praxina's voice echoed in his ears.

"No!" Mephisto cried, even as tears streamed freely down his face. "I- I don't want it!"

Banes growled and leapt towards him. There was a terrific pain in Mephisto's chest as he was crushed under those massive paws, with six-inch claws slicing into his skin. His cry of shocked agony was drowned out by Banes' roar.

Mephisto woke in a cold sweat, his face soaked with tears as he fought to gulp down air, while his wide eyes were met with darkness. He thought for a terrible moment that he was trapped, but slowly became aware of the soft mass surrounding him.

"Praxina?" he breathed, confused as to where exactly he was. It was too warm to be the cave.

Slowly, he realized the mass was a bed. He'd fallen out of it onto the floor, limbs tangled in the blanket. His pillow was clutched tightly in his grip and he wasn't sure he could pry his fingers loose if he wanted to.

"What? Where-?"

It all came rushing back at once like a blow to the head.

"No. Praxina!" Mephisto collapsed weakly onto the pillow and gave a choked sob, adding fresh tears to the already damp fabric.

He wanted his sister.

Before the corruption started to get bad, she was always there for him. Always. Whenever he had a nightmare, she would hold him and pet his hair, and sometimes she'd even sing quietly to him until he went back to sleep.

He wanted that right now more than anything in the universe. He wanted her to hug him and tell him that everything was okay. That they were okay. That everything was going to be fine. That the two of them would always be together, no matter what. All those comforting old lies.

Instead, there was just heartless silence.

"You promised," Mephisto whispered between sobs. "You promised we'd be together..."

He needed to... to just see her, at least. Sitting up, he summoned a crystal with photos of the duo stored in it. A hundred selfies, usually with Praxina complaining or ignoring him in the background. A hundred stealthy shots of her. Her brows drawn low as she plotted. Or her sleeping with an uncharacteristically peaceful expression. Or those few, precious shots of her too-rare smile. He looked at the projected pictures through the tears, bringing the crystal close to his eyes in an attempt to stimulate her presence. He sobbed quietly as his thumb traced her cheek in an old close-up where she looked happy.

"Praxina, please," he whispered to her image. "Please, you can't be gone. You can't!" His hand shook. " Please. Say it was all just a mean joke. Say you just didn't want to surrender to the princesses. Say you're here to take me away with you, so we can be a team, again! The best team in the universe, remember?! It's supposed to be us vs. the world! Please! " He drew his knees up to his chest and clutched them, choking on his words. "You're my big sister! I need you, Prax, and you need me! You can't be... You can't be dead ! This isn't how it's supposed to end! You can't do this to me! Please, Praxina..."

He buried his face in his knees and bawled his heart out, as if that would ease the ache.

An hour passed slowly. Iris felt drained, but she was far too upset to sleep. The ball of guilt and anxiety in her stomach had loosened enough that she was starting to feel hungry. The fact that she hadn't eaten anything but a rather unsatisfying slice of cake since she left Earth was... mildly alarming to say the least.

It got to the point that Iris' growing hunger forced her out of bed. She threw a pink robe over her nightgown, then hesitated at the door. Aside from being led to her room, and her long-ago escape from that tower cell, Iris had no idea how to navigate the castle. Somebody was sure to see her-

Wait. What was she thinking? She was a princess; she had every right in the world to walk around her own castle.

But, on the other hand, she didn't know the rules, yet. Maybe princesses were supposed to stay in their rooms until morning. Maybe royals weren't allowed to get their own food.

Using all her stealth, she avoided the patrolling guards. It wasn't worth the risk. It took a while, but she managed to find her way back to the dining room, and from there to a door that led to the kitchen. Iris opened it quietly and stepped inside.

The kitchen was huge, with several big marble work tables and a wall of stone ovens with crystal doors. A long row of sinks and counters lined the far wall, with cupboards above them. The wall facing the ovens hosted shelves of food and supplies, with a sealed and locked freezer door in the middle. Great racks of pots and pans and cooking utensils hung above the work tables. Everything was made of gleaming copper-colored metal and polished marble and shining crystal, all freshly restored by Gramorr's defeat and cleaned by a dozen magic-wielding servants after dinner. The whole place was spotless.

A bundle of dark clothes and magenta hair was sitting on the floor in a corner, clutching a bowl and trying to take up as little space as possible.

"Mephisto?"

He flinched automatically at the sound of his name, jerking his head up. His eyes were red from crying and lack of sleep "...Oh, it's you, your highness." He climbed clumsily to his feet and bowed.

Iris didn't look much better, really. Her eyes were red, too, and her long pink hair was disheveled. "What are you doing?"

Mephisto looked at the bowl guilty. "I... was just... I just took some rice." He bit his lip and refused to meet her gaze.

She blinked. "...Why are you acting like you got caught doing something wrong? You're not in trouble." She swallowed nervously. "Unless, uh, there's not a rule against getting your own food, or something, is there?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't want to find out." He risked a look at her. "It probably wouldn't apply to a royal, like you, but I'm, well, I'm on thin ice, as it is."

Iris' gaze fell to the bowl. It contained a tiny pile of slightly-burned rice. It didn't even look seasoned. It was too small and sad to even be called a meal.

"I don't remember you eating at dinner..." she mused. "When was the last time you actually ate, Mephisto?"

He flushed at the directness of her question. "Uh... I'll have to think..."

His stomach growled loudly, causing him further embarrassment.

Iris' eyes widened. "...You haven't eaten since you had dinner at my house. Have you?"

"...Maybe?" Mephisto winced a little, partly because she was right, and partly at the reminder of his deception. Was that really just a day ago? It felt like a lifetime. "...It's okay, though, I don't need a lot of food to keep me going. I'm used to it."

Iris figured it was probably wrong to cuss out a man she had killed, even silently, but she fumed just the same. Stupid Gramorr. Stupid awful terrible old man. How often did he let the twins go hungry?

Iris' stomach growled, too, drawing both their attention. She shuffled her feet. "...I didn't really have much at dinner."

"I guess you could call a servant," Mephisto suggested slowly. "I mean, you're a Princess; they pretty much have to feed you."

She rubbed her arm. "I don't really wanna put anybody out like that. Especially not on the first night. Everybody's trying to get settled in. Anyway, what kind of Princess does that make me look like, if I wake somebody up in the middle of the night and order them to make me a sandwich?"

"You've got a point."

Iris made a decision. She straightened her back and walked over to the food shelves.

"Let's make ourselves some real food."

Author's Note: *Old lady voice* It's been 84 years...

Honestly I don't have any good excuses except that I've been working a lot on other projects. But I hope you enjoyed this (wildly belated) update! Please comment if you did, it means a lot!