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THE HEIR'S OWN

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From Ashes, We Rise

EST 143 E.S. - Present | 1590 A.H. - Present

 

⋅ ───⊱ ⊰─── ⋅

THE HEIR’S OWN

NOTICES OF BIRTH

 

PUBLISHED BY

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ON THIS HOLY YEAR OF 582 E.S.

⋅ ────────────────⊱ ⊰──────────────── ⋅



 

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Belonging is so fickle a concept. To discover it where you plant your feet is thought to be destiny. To find it within a position risks one bordering upon dependency; to lose it meaning to lose themselves. No matter its means of arrival, such a thing is ever-coveted by all who breathe. I, a son of Amador, have oft found myself reaching out for it until my arms strained. A search for greatness, a means by which I could guarantee never forsaking my lineage’s greats— living up to the standard those before had laid. Greatness and belonging in a lone grasp. Coupled in a single swipe without separation nor tribulation pressed to its flank.

I once thought myself in possession of such a thing. Greatness in what I’d sworn myself to and belonging as I believed it to be. Rosened gold was all it took to convince me of the path before me. Encouragement that discomfort in where you stood was no sign of failure, merely the sting all who wished to secure a legacy endured.

Although the cobbles bolstered fleeting pleasures, all I feared inevitably came to pass. My duty went as surrenders were made and, for all I’d known it, my belonging too. When all else fell, when my upped roots fell to northern soils, my sorriest moments were decorated by a belief I’d never have it again. Yet beside another I discovered it once more, under an oath with a woman more familiar than my own rushes of blood or stints of breath.

Wound in truth and greater than naive beliefs which ran so frail they could spill from between my knuckles as if I’d grasped at sand. Beside my other, my daring Mikhaila, I mended impalpable wounds and stumbled upon something greater than anything I’d known prior. A sworn promise ne ever forsaken. A belonging ne ever strayed from. And by her, gifts bound by breath were born. A source of belonging.

Children of our own.

 

⋅ ───⊱ ⊰─── ⋅

THE FIRSTBORN TWINS
OF THE SILVER MOON

KRISTOFF ISAAK AMADOR

23RD DAY OF WZUVAR AG BYVCA OF 577 E.S.

HELENA HELMI AMADOR

23RD DAY OF WZUVAR AG BYVCA OF 577 E.S.
 

KRISTOFF & HELENA,

Decorated by a streak of his mother’s making, Kristoff bears a stock of ginger and eyes light as the clearest skies. Helena’s tresses runs fully pale, a true curiosity backed by her mother’s eyes. Beneath the zodiac of The Moon came our babes’ first cries. Those born under Nikul’s constellation are easily taken by the world’s joys, ever a light for those around them. As a witness to this very truth, I can all but confirm such a claim. Two lights glaring evermore, even upon my dimmest days.


⋅ ───⊱ ⊰─── ⋅

THE THIRDBORN
BENEATH THE DRAKE

SELYNE AMAYA AMADOR

7TH DAY OF JUMA AG UMUND OF 579 E.S.
 

SELYNE,

Holding the names of an aunt I never had the chance to meet and my great-grandmother, our thirdborn carries her father’s ginger stock and, much like her older brother, a streak akin to her mother’s own. Beneath The Drake are the cunning born, all too often meticulous in their attempts to an extent some may regard as pitiless. We only hope, as her steps lead towards adolescence and further, she takes to her makings. To always think before acting, to disregard impulse and hone her mind.

 

⋅ ───⊱ ⊰─── ⋅

THE FOURTHBORN
BASKED IN COURAGE


JOSEFINA EMILIYA AMADOR

13TH DAY OF VZMEY AG HYFF OF 581 E.S.
 

JOSEFINA,

The last of our own. Josefina, a name I’ve always thought of beauty, flaunts a darker head of hair, displaying her father’s hues though lacking his own vibrancy. Being born into this world beneath The Comet nearly assures one is taken by their stubborn instincts in some manner. Though such is not always a bad thing. Those of the altruistic often share such a trait— doing all they can for others, even upon noble rejection. It’s by this hope we await the first of her steps into this world. To be all we wish, even at the expense of patience.

 

⋅ ─────────────────────⊱ ⊰───────────────────── ⋅


 

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His Lordship, Anaksandr Amador, 

Heir to House Amador, Enestrik of the Karoslund

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Her Ladyship, Mikhaila Amador, 

Guildmaster of the Healer’s Hall

 

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As the moon guides the tide of the ocean, Anaksandr guided his sister. An anchor in the roughest seas, a beacon of light in the trenches. Moryana adored her brother more than life itself. The person she sought to be, the person she sought to protect from any further harm. She had entrusted herself with such as a kid. Be good. Defend your family. Make it easier for him. Make sure he never again has to feel the way he did, make sure the unholy amount of pressure brought upon her big brother was at least bearable.

When you watch the most important person in your life tackle every hurdle, rise from ash and sea salt again and again, you blame yourself. If only I was stronger. If only I could understand. Moryana dreaded it; How she could only watch the mass papers pile upon his deck, how he led their house while their parents were absent, how could she sit by and watch as her brother bore the world's weight on his shoulders. But somehow, she knew she could never measure up to what he needed. The ship is never strong enough to help the anchor, no matter how much it wishes. 

 

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Then Mikhaila waltzed in. Suddenly, the shine of his smile was as bright as his auburn hair. High tides turned low, and her brother finally seemed happy. Not like how he smiled during meetings, not like the absent cloudy eyes he played off as too little sleep, but truly happy. A happy she had forgotten existed.

Moryana could never thank Mikhaila enough for that. For being what she could not be for Anakdandr, an anchor of his own.

 ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

And so, Moryana sits in the children's bedroom, her voice monotoned as ever. “Once upon a time. . .” She begins, reading stories courtesy of Norland for the newborns. The tension accumulated over her years dissipating; finally, a warmth of relaxation flowed through her body. Knowing they will be loved, knowing they will not share the same fate as her. Her brother is surrounded by love and support. And that’s all she could ever ask for. 

 

Perhaps she couldn't be Anaksandr's anchor, but maybe she'll guide the young tides of Amador. Just as he did for her.

 

 

Spoiler

RUSHED A LITTLE BUT I LOVE MY LITTLE FAMILY GRAHHHHHHHH

 

Edited by Divinational
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