TW!!!
Depictions of GRAPHIC VIOLENCE and SA

I take another look at all the soldiers holding me captive at their Prince's orders, memorizing all their faces before I hesitantly sit back down in my seat. The Prince takes another swig of his wine, patiently waiting for me to take ahold of my glass. I take it in my hand, swirling it around in the cup, gazing at the beautiful, deep red color. It almost sparkles. "I've been storing this for years, awaiting your return," the Prince smiles at me. "It should remind you of home."

"Home?"

"Yes," he nods, enthusiastically. "Christas is revered as the best wine producers on the Continent. They are especially famous for their Blutmond blend, made especially for their festival of the same name." I take a sip, and instantly, a feeling of calm washes over me— it's almost nostalgic. "So, you like it?"

"I do," I respond, bluntly.

He rises to his feet and walks over to me, grabs my hand and pulls me to mine. "Now, if you'll follow me, there's something important I want to show you." As we exit the room, and soldiers sheath their swords, and Lucille glares daggers at me as we disappear into the hallway. The Prince leads me by the hand to what looks something like a Ceremonial room— the walls are draped in beautiful, white silk fabrics with golden accents, and a beautiful throne like chair sat right in the middle. He sits me down in the chair and tucks my hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek, "What do you think?"

"Of... what?"

"The room, everything!"

"It is quite beautiful."

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes?"

"Perfect!" He claps his hands twice and a group of noble looking people meander into the room with us.  "(Name), these are the Counselors of Tealin, many of whom have served under me since I was a boy."

The five Counselors, three men and two women, bow and curtsy to me. One woman with graying, light brown hair and kind, green eyes looks at me with a smile, "We have been anticipating this performance for years, Princess."

"Performance?"

An older gentleman speaks up, "Yes, the use of the Pendulum."

"It is a shame it was lost for so long," the other woman whispers.

"But, now we get to see it shine once again!" A younger man smiles.

"I-I don't know how to use any powers," I immediately rise to my feet.

"Don't worry, my (Name)," the Prince gently grasps my hand, raising it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckle. "I will guide you through everything." His hands find their way to my shoulders and push me back down. "Now, here are some things you should know. When you are using the Pendulum to peer into the past, it will feel as though you were there, experiencing it in real time. However, the people you will see will not be able to see you or hear you, so you will not be able to directly interact with them."

"H-How do I even look into the past?"

"You imagine someone or something you wish to see."

"... Could I go back and see my mother?"

The Counselors seem taken aback by my request. Francis waves his hands, "She does not understand, let me explain. You can use the Pendulum to look into the past of any person, excluding the Christas Royal Family. Being that they are the Guardians of the Pendulum, it is almost like a safeguard."

"If not my mother, then who?"

"Anyone, my dear, (Name)." He takes the Pendulum out of his pocket and holds it by the chain, beginning to swing it back and forth in front of me. "Just keep your eyes on the Pendulum." An eerie light begins to emanate from the locket and I stare at it, as instructed, and I begin to sink back into the chair as my body grows heavier and heavier. All of a sudden, my vision goes black, but I am still conscience.

Where am I? What do I do?

Just... think of someone's past I want to see?

... Arthur.

I want to see Arthur's past.

The second I think his name, I blink and arrive into a castle of some kind. The house was decorated with lots of reds, blues, and whites, but in a very elegant, distinguished way. I walk through the first doorway I see, and it looks like I've wandered into a family room. Little wooden toy swords and shields lined the walls, five of each to be exact. The fireplace in the middle of the room was radiating a comforting heat I'd never felt before, and hanging above the mantle was a painting of the family who lives here.

A father, a mother, and five beautiful little boys. All but one had planned on looking serious in this painting— most either having a small smile or none at all. The smallest boy, a young blonde with one green eye and one blue eye, adorned a giant smile on his face, one of the biggest smiles I'd ever seen. His father's hand lovingly drapes over his shoulder, and he tightly holds the hand of the eldest brother, a redhead with green eyes and a slight smirk.

All of a sudden, I hear footsteps rushing down the hall. "I want the cutlass!"

"Nae if ah git thare first!" The first one to rush into the room was the eldest boy, and he, indeed, chose the cutlass. "I told you!"

"Not fair, Allistor!" The twins walked in together, but I am unsure who is the one complaining.

"Ye'v juist git tae be quicker next time, Seamus," Allistor, smugly, swings the cutlass in a circle.

Seamus crosses his arms and Angus goes over to the swords and picks out the twin sabers, handing one of them to his brother. "For you?"

Seamus looks at the saber, then back at his brother, sighing with a crooked smile. "Thank you, Angus."

Allistor suddenly begins to walk over to the door. "Where's Arthur 'n' Dylan? Surely we didn't smoke 'em that bad."

"No, we're here!" I walk out into the hall and see a young Dylan with a little Arthur on his back. "Arthur's legs gave out on the run over."

"Boys, what are you doing?!" Just behind them down the hall, Oliver Kirkland is running at them at top speed. "This is no time to play, we are going into town today!"

"Do we have to?" Seamus whines, spinning, rather aggressively, in a circle.

"It'll do guid fur th' family name," Allistor slings his arm over Angus' shoulder.

Oliver's attention goes to Arthur, who's tightly gripping to Dylan's shirt. "Oh, my boy," he picks him up, cuddling him tightly to his chest. "You four know better than to push him too hard!"

"I told them not to," Dylan shrugs.

Seamus immediately points a finger at the oldest brother, "It was Allistor's idea!"

"Angus," their father sighs, turning to the boy next to him, "Is your brother speaking the truth?"

Angus visibly hesitates, his eyes darting from Seamus to Allistor. His twin nudges him in the side with his elbow, and Allistor rolls his eyes with an annoyed, consenting nod. Angus, clasping his hands together, nods, "Yes, father."

Oliver sighs and looks at Allistor, placing a hand on his shoulder with a stern, but loving look. "Allistor, you are fifteen years old. I expect you to look after your brothers."

Another blink and I am in town, sitting in a giant cart full of food, clothes and other supplies. I look around, taking in the beauty of the town square— it is adorned in wreaths and areas filled with snow from the last snow fall. A hand suddenly reaches over, causing me to fall backwards in surprise as it grasps a blanket, pulling it out. "Here you are, little one," I hear Oliver's voice outside the cart. I crawl over and see him handing the blanket to a little girl.

"Thank you, Duke Kirkland!"

"Thank you for coming out today, Duke Kirkland," her mother places her hand on her heart and bows her head. "These last few nights have been cold. The blankets will help."

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiles, brightly. "The rest of my boys are also handing out some firewood at the other side of the square. Don't leave before grabbing some."

"I'll be sure to send my husband over, Your Grace. Again, thank you."

With his hands on his hips, he watches her and her daughter reunite with the father, and they begin walking in the direction of the firewood. "The people adore you, my love," a woman with fiery red locks latches onto his arm, her other hand tightly grasping Arthur's.

"I want the best for my Duchy, but all of this would not be possible without aid from the Crown," he says, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. He looks down at Arthur, "Are you feeling better after getting some rest?"

"Yes, papa," Arthur beams at him. "Can I help you?"

"Of course, my boy. I think the next family requested some potatoes. Can you grab them for me?" Arthur nods, enthusiastically, raising his arms up as Oliver leans down to pick him up. He lifts him high enough to reach into the cart, but the bag is just out of his reach. I look around, and gently nudge my foot into the bag, which causes it to fall towards the boy, who grabs it and clutches it to his chest as his father brings him back to the ground. "Go ahead," he nudges him towards a man with a big mustache, his family standing alongside him. Arthur, shyly, walks over to him, holding the potatoes out for him.

"My, what a responsible boy you have here, Your Grace," the man takes the potatoes, graciously.

The Duke chuckles, leaning his cheek down on top of his wife's head. "The boys are our pride and joy."

"How old are you, my Lord?" The man asks Arthur.

The little boy shyly digs his foot into the dirt, shooting an anxious glance back at his mother and father, who smile at him, encouragingly. "Six years old, sir."

"My, and you're already out helping your father in town?"

"Yes, sir."

The man's wife kneels down to be at eye level with the boy, and she holds out a single daisy to him. "You will do great things one day, Lord Arthur."

I go ahead and crawl out of the cart, making my way over to the boys with the firewood. I pass many people on my way there— many of which looked slightly malnourished and cold, but it seemed they celebrated the Kirkland Family's visit and efforts to get them through the winter. They loved their Duke and Duchess.

The closer I get to the cart of firewood, the more chaotic and lively the people became. It seemed the boys on this side of the square were putting on a show for the common folk. Allistor was singing a song of old— a story of an adventurer looking for a place to call home, while the shy Angus accompanied his song with a lute, playing a beautiful melody. Dylan was happily handing out the firewood, as he had been instructed, and Seamus seemed to be engulfed by his brother's music, as he went through the crowd, pulling up little boys and girls to dance. I had no idea Allistor could sing, or that Angus could play the lute and Seamus could dance. Even Dylan was bobbing his head along to the music.

I lean against a nearby wall, hanging my head as I relax and take in this beautiful, relaxing moment. The moment I raise my head, I notice I'm not in the square anymore. It looks like I am now in a study hall, as all five of the Kirkland boys are in the room doing their own respective studies, a long table seated in the middle with a tutor reading a book at the end. The boys are older now, they've all grown into their features and builds and every one of them, besides Dylan, look annoyed. I walk over to Arthur, who is painting a beautiful self portrait, throws his paintbrush on the ground and stands up with a frustrated growl. Unlike before, he is wearing an eyepatch over his blue eye, his scar poking out the top. "Why does father insist on us taking these courses? I complimented a painting once a few years ago and I've been stuck in painting lessons since! My hand is cramping."

"You think you've got it bad?" Seamus challenges from the floor in the corner. "He noticed I enjoyed dancing and I've been taking dancing classes with the strictest dancing instructor on the Continent. My body is so sore, I can't even move."

Angus, who is seated in the chair not too far from his twin, quietly picks at the strings of his lute. "I like playing, but he has me practicing so often that my fingers bleed— and I have callouses."

"Speak for yourselves," Dylan sighs, pushing a pair of glasses further up onto his nose. I walk over and see him working on a biology sheet. "I actually enjoy the classes he enrolled me in. I'm thinking of becoming a doctor."

"What a wonderful choice, my Lord!" The tutor beams, setting his book down. "I'm glad you've been enjoying my lessons."

Arthur shakes his head, and turns his attention to Allistor, who is sprawled out on a chair with a book over his face. "Shouldn't you be studying?"

"Whit's thare tae study?" Allistor growls, grasping the book and throwing it across the room. "The' old man haes force-fed me every single detail aboot runnin' this hoose sin th' day ah wis born."

The boys sit in an awkward silence when the tutor suddenly clears his throat, "My Lords, I know it is not my place to say this, but His Grace wants nothing but the best for you. He expressed to me that he would give you the world if he could— allow you to indulge in any passion or pursue any career path your hearts desire."

"Thank you, Mr. Lloyd," Dylan smiles, graciously, at his tutor before turning to each of his younger brothers, "That should put into perspective how much father loves us. He wants us to be happy, he just— overdoes it." Then, he turns to Allistor with an uncharacteristic glare and a harsh tone, "But you should be leading your brothers by example. You are twenty four years old— you should show them what a hard-working, dedicated family man looks like."

Allistor erupts from his chair, stalking over to stand over Dylan with a malicious scowl on his face. "Who th' fuck urr ye tae challenge me, little brother? Why don't we tak' this ootdoors 'n' let oor fists dae th' talkin'?"

Dylan stares up at him for a few moments before rising to his feet as well, staring him straight in the eye. "You may intimidate our brothers with this tough guy act, but you don't scare me, Allistor."

The redhead harshens his glare in an attempt to make his little brother back down. He raises his fist, but Dylan doesn't flinch. Allistor lets out a growl of frustration before returning to his seat, placing another book over his face. You could physically the tension leave the boys' bodies as their shoulders relax, and a collective sigh of relief leaves their lips as they get back to their studies. A few moments later, Angus, though he never seems to have much to say, hums a tune, accompanying himself with his lute, his head turned up to look at the ceiling in concentration. Eventually, Arthur begins to hum along, mumbling a few words here and there, and even Dylan starts tapping his foot with a smile. The longer the song goes, the louder the boys hum, and eventually it turns into a full out performance. Seamus manages to pull himself to his feet, singing along as he dances his way to Allistor, grabbing the book off his face and setting it on the table before grabbing his hands and pulling him from his chair. "Dance with me, brother!"

Allistor's tries his best to glare at Seamus in annoyance as he tugs at his arms, but can't help but soften his gaze and eventually let out a smile, singing and dancing along with the rest of them.

These boys were best friends and were so, so loved by their parents.

What made them turn out the way they did?

All of a sudden, I am behind Duke Kirkland in, what I assume to be, his study.

I thought I was supposed to be following Arthur's past...?

I look over his shoulder— he seems to be reviewing some sort of tedious paperwork, as he falls back into his chair with an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. I take the chance to take a peek at the piece of paper in his hand to find that it was a very important document, indeed.

It is a Certificate of Succession.

The legal document used to solidify the claim of the chosen heir when the head of household succumbs to the hands of death.

Has he not been instilling the role into his eldest son?

The document had been written up, but the name of the heir had yet to be filled in. "My boys..." His voice was unsteady, brittle, as if it could be broken. I turn to look at him and see him covering his mouth, his eyes filling with tears as he stares at the ceiling. All of a sudden, there's a knock at the door. Oliver fixes his posture, wiping his face as he calls out, "Yes, come in."

"Your Grace," the large door opens and the head butler peeks his head in, "I apologize for the intrusion."

Oliver glances at the clock, confused— it is well past midnight. It seems it's unusual that anyone disturb him at this time of night. Regardless, the strawberry blonde sets down his paperwork and invites the butler in with a gentle smile. "Mr. Hockin, what can I do for you?"

"A maid from the Clarke Estate has just arrived, unannounced," he says, his eyes wide. "She says Lord and Lady Clarke need urgent assistance at their Estate."

"Did she give any other information?" Oliver immediately stands, walking to the corner of his study to grab a sword, tying the straps around his waist. The butler shakes his head. "I shall depart at once. Have the stableman prepare my horse."

Mr. Hockin nods, rushing out of the room to head to the stables. Oliver rushes through the halls and I follow him close behind, watching him slow to a stop in front of giant, beautifully decorated doors. He takes a breath, staring at the floor, before quietly pushing the door open. As we walk in, I realize this is his room. He walks over to the bed, pausing just before reaching out and stroking her red locks. "Oliver...? What time is it?" A hushed voice comes from the bed.

"Alice, my darling, it is still the early hours of the morning," he leans down and kisses her forehead. "It seems my sister and her husband need my assistance."

Alice rolls over, her blue eyes reflecting the light of the candle on her nightstand. She looks up at him with a sleepy smile, "Must you go now?"

"It is urgent," he responds, his eyebrows creasing as he smiles at her. "I wished to inform you before departing."

She sits up, kicking her feet over the side of the bed to stand up beside him. Her eyes gaze up into his, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek, which he nuzzles into. "Allow me to wake the boys, they'd love to visit with Frederick and Olivia, I'm sure!"

He grasps her hand and softly kisses her inner wrist, "Let the boys sleep, Alice. I shall be back before daybreak." In all reality, Oliver and Alice hadn't spent a nice apart since the night of their wedding. She solemnly nods, her hand retreating to her side. His arms wrap around her, pulling her to his chest. "I love you."

She buries her face into him, "I love you, too."

Shortly thereafter, he departs from his home and heads to the house of Clarke. I blink my eyes and I'm standing in a giant, well-embellished room, blood splatters on the wall, and a man lying in a pool of his own.

The mere atmosphere of this vision completely froze my body!

A group of soldiers hold a woman hostage, horrified screams of grief and heartbreak erupting from her lungs as tears pour from her icy blue eyes.

Not only is she his sister, they are twins! They are near identical!

I turn and see Oliver glaring at these men— I'd never seen physical hate on a man's face before. "Release Olivia at once," he growls at them, his hand on his sword. "This has to be a misunderstanding."

"Frederick!" Olivia wails as the soldiers restrain her, preventing her from crawling to her husband whose body twists and contorts as blood spills from the gash in his throat. "Frederick, my love!"

"We have strict orders from the Palace," one of the men reply, smugly, wiping blood from his blade.

"My son...!" She turns her frightened gaze to her brother, "Oliver, find Toby and get out of here, NOW!"

"I said release her!" Oliver commands, his voice guttural, the schwing of his sword echoes in the room as he pulls it from the scabbard. No sooner than the words had left his mouth, men jump from the shadows, restraining him as well. They rip the sword from his grasp, throwing it down just out of his reach as they force him to the ground. It takes three men to restrain him, his eyes crazed, his mouth almost foaming in absolute rage.

That's when one of the men snap his fingers, and suddenly, all of their attention is drawn to Olivia. They force her to lay on her back, one man holding her arms up above her head as others begin hiking up her skirt and tearing her undergarments to shreds. She kicks, she screams, she bites, but to no avail. Oliver's face becomes pale and tears stream down his face as he requests they release her once more, this time, in desperation and horror. He buries his face into the carpet, his pleads becoming louder to drown out his sister's cries for help, and one of the soldiers grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling his head up to force him to watch his sister endure the most horrendous torture any woman could be put through. Each of the men, shamelessly, take her as if she were not a prize to be won, but a reward that they were owed. They have their way with her until she lies on the ground, unmoving. The men release Oliver, who struggles to get himself up, but he manages to quietly call for his beloved cradle mate. "Olivia? Dear sister, please answer me..." The men all laugh at him, mockingly, as he pulls himself across the floor to her side.

The moment he reaches out to her, one of the men lifts her head up and slashes her throat. Her once numb, lifeless facial expression replaced with a look of terror and pain as she clutches her throat, her screams gargled by her own blood.

And that is the way they left her. The soldiers looked proud and confident, satisfied with their work as they exited the room, and it enraged me to the point where I could finally move my body again. I run and grab Oliver's sword from the floor, charging after them with a war cry, intending to put the blade through each and every one of their hearts. And, for the first time, they heard me. They turned and they saw me. Their eyes open in surprise as I raise the sword, and the moment I went to swing it down into the heart of the first man, I'm ripped back into reality.

"(Name)?" Francis peers down at me, stuffing the Pendulum into his pocket.

I look around the room and see a member of his parliament had passed out on the floor, and another was dry heaving in the corner. My heart was racing, my face felt hot and my body felt incredibly heavy. "H-How long was I there?"

"Five seconds, mon cher," he tucks my hair behind my ear. "When one peers into the past with the Pendulum, you experience it in real time, when in reality, your body absorbs the information within five seconds."

I can't even begin to wrap my head around the concept. "What happened to them?" I ask, gesturing towards the physically ill people in the room.

"You went through the seven stages of grief in a very short amount of time. You won't believe the way the human face twists and contorts when you go through emotions like that so quickly, it is inhuman." As he speaks to me, the world around me begins to slow. My body suddenly weakens and I am unable to hold myself upright in my chair, causing me to fall into the Prince's chest. The able-bodies members of parliament rush to my aid, and the Prince stops them with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry, her energy was drained by the Pendulum. I shall bring her back to my quarters to rest." He picks me up princess style and begins walking out of the room, the members whispering amongst themselves behind him.

"Your Majesty," the older woman with the green eyes from before speaks up.

"Yes?" The Prince turns back to address her.

"Isn't it against Royal etiquette to be alone with an unmarried woman?" The woman speaks boldly, but there was a quiver in her voice.

I can feel the Prince's chest freeze. "Ms. Héderváry, while I do appreciate your experience as an etiquette teacher, who are you to question your Prince?" The members around her begin nodding in agreement with him, but it seems they only wish to remain on the Prince's good side. She lowers her head and Francis scoffs, turning and leaving the room.