Artham Wingfeather sat there with his notebook in his lap. He had gone up to a small river, and was writing poetry, trying to take his mind off of the daily problems of being a Throne Warden. Writing was the only way he could relax, and he was glad about it, because writing was what he did best. He looked out at the field that stretched next to the river. He remembered when he was just a boy, before the fangs had attacked, running through that field with Esben.
Esben.
Artham though about his brother, an act that would always send him into a fit of insanity. But, for the first time, his mind was clear as he though of Esben. Artham though back to when he first looked at his brother, when he was a newborn.
"His name's Esben?" 3 year old Artham had asked his mother.
Nala Wingfeather had smiled at her son. "Yes Artham."
Artham teared up thinking about him. Tears of joy, and sorrow. He remembered Esben running through the castle, racing Artham to a meal, or going fishing with him when they were teenagers. He remembered the day that Esben had told Artham that he had fallen in love. He remembered his wedding day.
Artham remembered when he had been told that he would be an uncle.
"It's too bad that Esben wont see what Anniera has become, what his son did for it." Artham told himself. "Esben, I miss you."
Artham teared up again, but they were tears of happiness.
😭😭😭😭😭 stop it with these beautifully sad stories guys!