Tale of Four

Stepping off the balcony, Tristan looked up and saw Annabell, dancing along the chandeliers, playing a game no one could understand but himself. Smiling, he whistled, and Annabell shot down, landing atop his shoulder. Rubbing her favourite spot, he spoke, "Why didn’t you come out? I thought you enjoyed talking to Hank’s crows."

"I did." They walked on as Annabell replied, "But ever since I saw that boy you’re related to, I’ve been disgusted by them." Tristan frowned and closed his eyes, trying to remember which person Annabell was on about for a moment. Remembering, he sighed.

"Matthew? I remember you saying soemthing about a Crow."

"The Crow, Tristan. The." Annabell corrected him, "He’s a disgusting fellow. Back before..." Annabell paused, "I can’t say it properly without risk. But this is before I was Annabell and he was the Crow. I know what he is, and if he is in this world, I can’t help but be disgusted by birds similar to him, even if they are innocent." Tristan widened his eyes in surprise, unable to believe Annabell could be disgusted by anything. Shaking his head, he cleared the thought from his mind.

"I thought you said back then that you couldn’t be sure."

"That was before. That was the first time I had ever really paid attention to the boy, and becuase of it I finally sensed his summon. The fact I couldn’t see it outright made me suspicious, and since then, every time I saw that boy, I’ve been... watching. I’m sure it’s Dexion."

"Dexion. So it has a name." Tristan chuckled, "I still don’t get why you’re so apprehensive about it." Annabell stayed silent for a moment and watched Tristan, looking at him with analytical eyes, judging if she could say what she wanted. After a moment, she nodded to herself and spoke.

"You remember the lesson you had when we first merged. And your aunt told you not all summons get along with their summoner." Tristan nodded. "There is a reason. What do you think summons are?"

"Fragments of the First King’s power," Tristan answered with the question he had been told from birth. Annabell nodded and then shook her head.

"Sort of. Yes, every one of us is a fragment of the first King’s power, but we are more than that." Annabell paused, "We are all one, a part of the same being." A wave of light pain assulted Tristan’s head, a bearable amount, but insight that he was hearing soemthing he shouldn’t. "To be precise, we are," The pain in Tristan’s head got worse, "aspects of the." The pain became like a hammer, and Tristan clenched his fists to bear with it. Annabell sensed it, and her power washed over him, easing it ever so slightly, "first King personality." With her final words, Tristan grabbed his head and clenched his teeth, grunting in pain as he struggled to keep himself upright.

Annabell’s power washed over him to ease the pain as best as she could, having a great effect and letting Tristan stay on his feet. Five minutes passed of that pain, as it slowly subsided before vanishing. "I don’t understand why people feel such pain when told things like that?"

"There are safeguards over Veston, old safeguards. Ones that stop people from delving into what they shouldn’t." Annabell said easily. Tristan looked and waited for the headache again. When it didn’t come, he realised he was safe with that knowledge for some strange reason. Calming down, he pondered what Annabell had just told him and narrowed his eyes.

"So, you and the crow. Mary’s bear and Anton’s spider. What, you’re all the same person?" Annabell flapped her wings in rage, poking Tristan’s neck with her beak.

"No!" Crying out, she said, repulsed by the idea. "I am not a spider or a bear, but a dove." Tristan giggled and rubbed her favourite spot again in apology.

"You know what I meant by that, Annabell." Trying to fight the strike, Annabell quickly broke and nestled her head into his neck, accepting his apologetic strokes.

"No. There is a reason; I can’t say why you’re wrong. It’s too dangerous right now; if what I just said hurt so much. Just know, we were aspects of the first king. Can you guess what I am?" Annabell said, slamming her wing on her chest. Tristan couldn’t help but get the urge to tease her.

"Hatred?" Annabell angrily flapped her wings before flying off.

"STUPID TRISTAN!" Flying above a chandelier, Tristan smiled and shook his head.

"Kindness." With a more pleasing answer, Annabell flew back down, landing on his head.

"Partly, but wrong. Personality isn’t so clear-cut by things such as kindness and hatred." Annabell’s head peeked over his forehead, and Tristan saw the pure white face before him. "Look at me and guess again," Tristan smirked.

"Purity." Saying the only answer that made sense, Annabell cried in joy.

"Yeah." Although she lifted her head, Tristan could hear in her tone that she was giddy, smiling to herself. "I am his purity made flesh. It’s rather simple if you think about it."

"It doesn’t explain how a person’s personality can be split apart and turned into living beings, however." Tristan sighed, "And it also doesn’t explain why you dislike the crow so much. If you’re meant to be pure, I thought you wouldn’t be able to." Tristan said as if it should have been a matter of fact. Annabell shook her head.

"It’s not that I don’t like Dexion. I want to like him, but I can’t. Think of it like fire and water. They don’t mix. We naturally are repulsed by one another at our core."

"So what is he?" Tristan asked after calming himself and massaging his temples. Annabell didn’t answer straight away. "Annabell?" Grabbing her off his head, he saw the bird staring into a corner of the palace. Following her gaze, he tried to see what she saw but saw nothing. If it were anyone else so locked onto soemthing, he may have brushed it off, but he knew she must have seen soemthing.

"Annabell. What is it?" Tristan asked, making the dove snap out of it.

"Someone there. There’s soemthing ancient about them. Much like that knight who protects the king." Tristan raised an eyebrow.

"Northern?" There was only one Kingguard who matched what Annabell said, Ser Bryan Halls. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, he isn’t doing anything but watching me. He knows I see him, but he hasn’t moved. All he does is stand there, watching." Annabell huffed, "It’s fine; he isn’t going to do anything. What did you ask again?" Tristan couldn’t help but get rid of the unnerving feeling of being watched by soemthing he couldn’t see, but said nothing, trusting Annabell.

"The Crow. What is it?" Annabell nodded.

"Deceit." Annabell quietly said, "It’s why I worry for the boy who summoned him. Dexion is a being who was in this world once. I don’t trust him, Tristan. The Crow is dangerous, more than anything." Tristan lowered his head. When Annabell first mentioned the Crow, it rang a bell in his mind, related to soemthing in their family history.

He had learnt most of it, or at least what he could get his hands on and confirm true and would consider himself well-versed in it, but even now, he couldn’t be sure what it was that clicked in his mind. Rubbing Annabell’s head, trying to think, he closed his eyes and thought of every major monarch, every rebellion, until soemthing clicked.

"Otto ’kinslayer.’" Tristan paused his actions and stared ahead, remembering the first Otto of his family. "He killed his Grandfather, no, Granduncle... Veron, I believe." Tristan’s eyes widened even wider as the words naturally slipped out of his mouth, "Veron ’Blackwings’." Taking a deep breath, he remembered what it was that nagged at him when he first heard of it, "The Reign of Crow. Surely it can’t be the same person?" Tristan asked the dove, who nodded.

"I didn’t know who the summoner of that fellow was or if it was this Veron. All I know is he had been in the physical world before and is back a second time." Tristan gulped, thinking of the earliest moments of the dynasty’s history.

Over the course of three kings, they were not the real power in charge but another Cosmaton, Veron. As the one hidden behind the throne, he had caused the War of the Creator, opposing the Church of the Creator, and died at Otto’s hands to end the civil war. As for the cause of the War, Tristan wasn’t sure; records of it were likely hidden by the Church itself.

Tristan took a deep breath. "Annabell, if that being is back, are we in danger?" Annabell huffed again.

"I don’t know. Tristan, it’s the one thing I know of that I can’t see properly. Be it physically or how they think. I don’t know." Annabell said with disappointment. Sighing, Tristan rubbed her head and smiled.

"It’s fine."

"All I can know is that the boy who summoned him is likely the way he is because of that bird," Annabell warned before letting herself indulge in the strokes.