The Twin Moons of Jupiter

                                                                     The Twin Moons of Jupiter                                                                                        Part 1                                                                                         E L L E A  Ellea Hightower watched her fraternal twin brother pace the room. His fingers grabbed at the hem of his traditional robes. It betrayed his unbothered façade. Bombs echoed in the distance. The war between Jupiter and Saturn had raged in the background of their lives for many years, but it had never come so close before.  “Please, my Prince,” Cosmo Goros said. He was their bodyguard, assigned by their father King Callora. Cosmo served in the King’s vanguard for over a decade before he was given the honor of protecting their young lives.  Lyra stopped pacing.   He looked just like their father. His jaw-length curly black hair was almost unruly now.  There was little time for personal grooming when the threat of murder lay on their minds. Ellea missed her ladies-in-waiting the most but made sure to appear as presentable for court as possible.  “Cosmo, we should be on the frontline with our father,” Lyra said. Another bomb shook the foundation of the palace and Ellea shrieked and covered her head.  “My Prince,” Cosmo said again. He rushed to Ellea’s side and knelt down to comfort her. “You are far too valuable to be lost to this war.”  Ellea raised her head and chanced a glance in Lyra’s direction. Lyra had one hand on his sword, a tense look on his face. He cared deeply for the lives of the subjects who resided in the capital city of Garwen-Marr.  Lyra will rule. He will one day have the title of Quen. A male ruler with the ability to bear children who traditionally take on royal duties. Lyra is suited to the ruling, Ellea thought, unlike their younger brother Corax or herself.  Lyra trained under the tutelage of the vanguard but beyond being skilled in the art of the blade he has compassion for the people.  All Ellea wanted was to remain wealthy and beautiful.  The doors to the dungeon opened and Corax ran inside with his own guard. He just had his 16th cycle around the brightest moon. Their youngest brother was not born like Lyra and instead took lessons on his own at the other end of the palace. He looked the most like their birth parent, Quen Novak, whose lilac eyes and light hair skipped the twins.  “Siblings,” Corax said with an affirming nod. His Kotak—the traditional high collar top the men usually wore—was torn at the side. Blood dripped from his mouth.  Lyra growled in anger once he saw Corax. Ellea knew Lyra felt responsible for Corax, despite the younger boy being completely closed off to any bonds or relationships with the twins.  “The Saturnali have breached the west corridor. Quen Novak is leading the Vanguard,” the soldier that came in with Corax said. He took his place in front of the door.  Lyra attempted to smooth the collar of Corax’s Kotak but Corax batted him away.  “Quen Novak is a fierce warrior,” Cosmo said. If it was to comfort the Hightower siblings or himself Ellea did not know.  Corax looked like Quen Novak, but Ellea knew no one in the castle was closer to Novak than Lyra.  Novak and Callora had tried for many years to give birth, and when the twins had finally been born they had been sequestered away. Taught by ladies maids until Novak finished his duties—the two hardly interacted with anyone other than themselves.  Corax had been raised with more freedom and as a result, the three of them were not as close as Lyra wanted.  Ellea nervously gathered her skirts and moved closer to Lyra. He was her comfort, and always had been. She watched as his cape fluttered behind him as he resumed his nervous pacing.  Corax rested his feet on the chaise Ellea was previously sitting on. He made a point to loudly inhale.  “We will lose this war,” he said.  There was a beat of silence. The air left Ellea’s body and her throat felt tight. She wanted to cry but wondered if the mothers of Jupiter had any tears left to spare. They had all been shed over the bodies piling in the streets.  The guards wisely kept silent.  “Have care how you speak,” Lyra said as he pointed in Ellea’s direction.  Corax rolled his eyes.  “Have care for your future as a Saturnali w***e, brother,” Corax said. “You will be full and pupped by the next Zoraxi festival.” “Corax, you are well and truly foul!” Ellea shouted.  Suddenly the doors burst open and the guard drew his sword. Quen Novak sauntered in, his white hair was tied up with his lucky war ribbon.  “My moonbeams!” he said. Lyra rushed to his side and Novak engulfed his eldest son in a fierce hug.  “Quen,” Corax said with a bow.  Novak gestured with his hand and both Ellea and Corax knew to join the embrace. He smelt like blood, sweat, and the smallest hint of Jupiteran tulips. Ellea knew this to be her father’s favorite scent.  “Where is Father?” Lyra asked.  “All praise to Zoraxis! He is with Lord Pymor in the south corridor, “ Novak said. “The troops have driven Saturn back.”  “Is the castle secure?” Cosmo Goros asked. Quen Novak nodded.  “For now,” Corax muttered.  Novak tugged a lock of Corax’s golden hair.  “How much has been lost?” Ellea asked  She could feel Lyra’s eyes on her back and with them his judgment. She chose not to indulge in the shame that washed over her. The castle was their life and their legacy.  The war had already taken so much from the nobility and the gentry. Ellea couldn’t help but feel anxious about the finances.  “It is too soon to determine the cost of this attack,” Quen Novak replied. “Do not fret, my moonbeam, for all is well in Jupiter’s orbit if her children are safe.”  “Your magnificence, we must be with the king,” Cosmo said. Quen Novak nodded. “I believe King Callora and Lord Pymor have knowledge to be shared.”  Cosmo Goros and Quen Novak locked eyes. Ellea watched as they exchanged a single knowing glance. As if they had possession of a secret unknown to anyone else.  Something was wrong.                                                                                 L Y R A  Lyra felt numb. As numb as his body would allow. The west wing of the royal palace lay in shambles. The very halls he roamed freely as a child were no more. Instead, collections of stone and marble lay in scatters across the floor. Bodies were strewn in various angles and Lyra shielded his eyes from the c*****e as best he could.  How did this happen? Had there ever been a time where war wasn’t burning the southern coasts?  Where Lyra didn’t have to lead the congregation in prayers for the wounded?  Lord Pymor greeted the group at the top of the staircase. King Callora walked out from behind them as he held on to a portrait of his mother, the Lady Diona.  “My love,” Callora said to his husband.  “Father, please forgive me, but I can not stand this malfeasance. May we adjourn to a chamber?” Ellea asked. Lyra wanted to hide under the covers of his soft bed but knows his subjects did not have such a luxury. His head swelled and his chest hurt and he needed a shower to wash off the grime of the dungeons.  “If there is news to be shared then we should share it. I can not stand the wait, it does nothing for my temperament,” Lyra admitted to the group.  Lord Pymor cleared his throat and looked towards the royal couple for guidance. King Callora waved his hand, and Pymor spoke. “We have obtained suitable matches for the twins that would prove beneficial for the crown and the royal highnesses.”  There was silence. Lyra knew the silence was a courtesy. He knew he should remember his education, he knew he should bow and smile and accept this as the natural order of things.  He found that this time he simply cannot.  “Suitors? Am I to take the throne so soon? Is Father unwell?” Lyra found himself saying in a much more timid voice than normal.  “Oh. Oh, Zoraxis, your tests for the faithful are never easy,” Novak said.  “My shining star. I’m so very sorry.”  But Lyra didn’t understand, at least not yet, and he was still staring up at King Callora as if the man may burst into pieces right before their eyes.  “My eldest son, you will no longer be taking the throne. We are grateful for your dedication and we pledge protection and undying fealty to your sons yet to come,” the King said. Ellea coughed. Lyra’s knees hit the floor first and then his head followed. Everything was a blur of motion and sound and tiny dots across the expanse of Lyra’s mind before his vision faded to black.