.four.

Kristian turned, pointing an accusing finger at his twin sister Kristiane. Katherine's eyes moved towards her daughter, barely noticing that she was eating something. "But Krissy has a cracker."

Kristiane immediately broke a piece and passed it to her brother without a second thought. He stuffed the piece of bread into his mouth with small hands. The smile on his face was an innocent one, happy with the life they had in their Camelot.

"Children, it's late and mommy is tired. Let's get you two to your bedroom." She said to them with another sigh escaping her lips. Katherine was always tired, and she felt bad using that excuse once again to be alone.

"No!" Krissy wailed in a tantrum, fist pounding one of her pillows. "I don't wanna go to bed! I wanna stay up and play." She growled.

Katherine gave the little girl a stern look. "Oh we'll have none of that, young lady." Katherine scolded her young daughter with her index finger. She pulled the little one from the bed and dragged her down the hall to her miniature room which she shared with her twin brother. She would not have Kristiane acting like her father. Not now, not ever.

Katherine didn't have to say it. The little girl sensed it. Her mother sat her on the edge of her little bed, then leaned toward her face, eyes searching for the little girl's big brown eyes. In looks, Kristiane was similar to her mother, but Kristian was similar to his mother in personality. Kristian, her son, was more calm and willing to negotiate things peacefully. He had always been a quiet child, never gave her any problems when he was a toddler. But Kristiane, her daughter, had her father's temper. She was quick to get angry and always wanted things to go her way. When she didn't get what she wanted, it was a regular thing to see her throwing a tantrum. Katherine never gave in to her daughter's behavior. But Luke always did.

Krissy's lips begin to tremble as she looked like she was about to cry, but she held back, fingers squeezing a nearby stuffed animal on her bed. Katherine pulled the child into her arms and hugged her tight in apology. Maybe she had been too rough on her and was letting her frustrations out on her children. She was usually more stern towards them after Luke's visits to her bedroom. "I'm not angry with you, sweet heart. But please, control your temper."

Krissy calmed down, then pulled her feet into the bed. Kristian ran across the room and jumped in his own.

Katherine gave each of them a kiss goodnight. On other nights she would tell them stories. At first they were from a fairy tale book. The one Luke had gotten for them when they were born was King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, a version for children with pictures like the one he had when he was a little boy. When she finished reading it to them several times, they started asking her for new stories. She told them ones about her childhood, and she told them ones about how she met their father. How she knew they were in love, their first date, and when they got married. Then she left their bedroom, letting the children sleep for the night.

The house they lived in was big enough for the children to have their own bedrooms. Their father was the king of his own personal Camelot after all. It was a mansion with fifteen bedrooms and seven bathrooms. They could live on opposite ends of the house and never run into each other if they wanted to. Katherine had certainly tried that when she moved out of the master bedroom she once shared with Luke. She picked out a room on the opposite end of the mansion. Now she only ever ran into him whenever they had meals together or when he actively sought her out to have relations. That was one of the perks of the lifestyle she had now. But it wasn't enough to make her happy. Luke had access to untold wealth. But the children were close, wanting each other for support, especially on nights when their parents fought.

Nights when Katherine's cries filled the hollow walls of their house. Nights when mommy threatened to leave when daddy got too close to her. Or times when he threatened to hurt her with violence, or her cries fell silent because he'd done something neither child could name. But always, always, he'd tell her how much he loved her. And mommy never replied with those three words in return.

The awful names she called him--murderer. "You killed those all those people without any remorse! You cheat, you steal, and you lie! You destroyed your friends and the peace that once existed in this country!"

She would accuse him of things neither Kristian or Kristiane could or wanted to confirm was true, especially at such young an age. But still, they feared him, their father. All he need do is call them by their full name and all bad behavior came to a halt. Whenever he was around, they mostly kept to themselves and stayed out of his way.

If daddy was a murderer, then they better not ever step out of line for fear of what he might do to them. And daddy was a big and tall man, stronger than all the other men around him. And he carried around a gun everywhere he went. All his workers listened with palpable fear when he spoke.

Katherine had tucked the little ones in, then walked to her bedroom. Her lonely, empty bedroom with the arched ceiling, canopy bed, expensive decor. He could give her the entire world, and had tried to, but nothing could make her truly happy. Nothing could undo the unnecessary things he had done for her. He always told her that it was all for her, and that they would be happy if she could just accept him the way that he was. Those were things she could never forgive herself for. He had been a good boy, someone who was sad and lonely. Or perhaps, a part of her mind told her, that darkness and that evil was always there. Perhaps it came out to the surface when he gained all the wealth and power, but they were his true colors nonetheless.

Luke Hemmings thought himself so powerful, being king now. But she hadn't loved him for what he would become, but for who he was. Who he used to be--the little orphan boy she knew in Sydney.

She already had everything she needed when they were young and in love, with no other worries. The money he now had meant nothing to her. If only Luke had understood this before he led the massacre that resulted in the death of so many people, so many innocents. He had no right to children of his own, after what he had done. Children were a blessing, a blessing Luke did not deserve.

Someday, she'd take her children away. Someday she'd make things right.

-

okay another edited chapter for the night. 

i hope you all like it. i'm going to try to post some more tomorrow because i want to get in the shower before it gets too late. thank you all for reading. 

it means a lot.

-clary