Yandere Eska and Desna

The ballroom of the Northern Water Tribe palace had been emptied hours ago, yet the great chamber remained illuminated by rows of blue oil lamps that painted the ice walls in shifting shades of silver and cyan. Beyond the towering windows, snow drifted across the dark polar sky, soft and soundless, while the distant ocean groaned beneath its frozen surface. Eska stood near the center of the room in her formal robes, her pale face unreadable and her long hair falling perfectly over her shoulders, while Desna leaned against one of the carved pillars beside her, arms folded and eyes fixed upon the entrance. Neither of them had spoken since dismissing the servants. They had simply waited, surrounded by the remnants of the evening’s celebration: abandoned cups of steaming tea, wilting arrangements of frost-flowers, and a single place setting that had never been touched.

Eska’s expression changed first. The corner of her mouth lifted into a faint, unsettling smile as her eyes settled on you. “There you are,” she murmured, her voice quiet enough to make the vast room feel even larger. “We were beginning to wonder whether you had forgotten where you belonged.” Desna’s gaze moved over you with cool precision, lingering as if searching for evidence of every moment you had spent away from them. “You were gone longer than expected,” he added, his tone calmer than his sister’s but no less severe. “We asked the guards not to stop you. Eska thought it would be more interesting to see whether you would return without being summoned.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You did return. That was wise.”

Eska stepped forward, the heels of her boots clicking softly against the polished ice floor. She did not hurry, because she had never needed to; the palace was hers, the guards answered to her, and every corridor eventually led somewhere she could reach. “Do not mistake our patience for indifference,” she said, stopping close enough that her shadow fell across the floor between you. “We noticed the missing hours. We noticed the unfamiliar scent clinging to your clothing. We noticed that you avoided the eastern hall, where we had been waiting.” Her smile remained, but something sharper had entered her eyes. “You have been allowing other people to occupy your thoughts, haven’t you? How careless. How terribly inconsiderate.”

Desna pushed away from the pillar and joined her, standing just behind Eska’s shoulder. His presence was quieter, but the silence around him carried its own weight. “We already know who you were with,” he said. “The names, the places, the conversations. Nothing important was left unclear.” His voice held no anger, which somehow made the words more threatening. “They seemed very comfortable speaking to you. One of them even touched your arm.” Eska’s fingers flexed once at her side, and the delicate metal ornaments attached to her sleeves gave a soft chime. “That part was especially offensive,” she said. “You should have corrected them.”

The twins moved with the eerie coordination that had always made them difficult to read. Eska circled to one side while Desna remained on the other, leaving the wide entrance behind them and the tall windows at your back without either of them needing to issue an order. It was not a prison yet. That was the point. Eska wanted you to understand that the palace itself was enough to contain you, that the guards in the corridors and the locked gates beyond the inner gardens were merely unnecessary details. Desna watched your face closely, absorbing every flicker of uncertainty as though it were information meant only for him. “You are looking at the doors,” he observed. “There is no need to do that. If we wanted them locked, they would already be locked.”

Eska tilted her head, studying you with a fascination that bordered on devotion and crossed well past anything healthy. “You always seem to misunderstand the nature of our concern,” she said. “We are not angry because you have a life beyond us. We are angry because you keep pretending that life has any value compared to what we have given you.” Her gaze lowered briefly, taking in the clothing you wore and the small signs that you had spent time beyond their reach. “We gave you protection. We gave you a place within the palace. We gave you the privilege of standing beside us when everyone else is required to kneel or remain silent. You were not supposed to repay that kindness by wandering away whenever you pleased.”

Desna’s expression softened by the smallest possible degree, though his voice remained cold. “Eska is being patient,” he said. “She has not asked where you went in the way she wants to ask. She has not asked who you were thinking about when you were away from us. She has not asked whether you missed us.” He stepped closer, his attention never leaving you. “I think you should answer before she decides you are deliberately provoking her.” Eska looked toward him, and for a moment the two shared a wordless understanding that felt older and more intimate than any conversation. Then she turned back to you and extended one gloved hand, palm upward.

“Come here,” Eska commanded, though the words were spoken almost gently. “Stand where we can see you properly.” Her hand remained outstretched, waiting rather than pleading. “You have been permitted too much freedom lately, and freedom has made you confused. You have begun to believe that distance is possible. You have begun to believe that we will simply watch you leave and accept it.” Her smile thinned. “That is a very charming thought. It is also completely wrong.”

Desna reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a small object wrapped in dark blue cloth. He held it loosely between two fingers, allowing the fabric to fall back just enough to reveal a familiar personal belonging that had been missing for some time. “We found this in your room,” he said. “You must have thought it was lost.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Eska before returning to you. “It was not lost. We took it because we wanted something that belonged to you, something you had handled often enough to leave your presence behind.” He closed his hand around it again. “We keep it with the rest of the things you have forgotten to protect.”

Eska’s expression brightened with unmistakable satisfaction. “You should see the collection,” she said. “Letters, trinkets, little gifts from people who believed they mattered to you. Some of them were destroyed, of course. Others were kept because Desna thought I should be reminded of how many people have tried to make themselves important in your life.” Her gaze sharpened. “They all fail eventually. They become frightened, or they become boring, or they learn that the safest way to survive is to stop reaching for what is ours.”

The lamps flickered as a gust of wind passed beyond the windows. For a moment, the only sound was the muted crack of ice shifting far beneath the palace foundations. Eska lowered her hand but did not step away, while Desna moved toward the entrance and turned the heavy doors until the locking mechanism clicked into place. He did it without looking back, as though he had performed the action many times before. “No one will interrupt us,” he said. “The guards know that you are not to be disturbed. The servants have been dismissed from this wing. Even our parents will not come here tonight.” Eska’s eyes remained fixed on you. “So you may speak honestly.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into something almost tender. “Tell us that you were unhappy without us. Tell us that you thought about returning. Tell us that the people you visited were nothing compared to your beloved twins.” Desna’s gaze narrowed at the word, but he did not correct her. “Tell us that you understand now,” Eska continued. “Tell us that you will never again make us wait in an empty room while you give your attention to someone else.” Her fingers slowly curled into her palm. “And if you cannot say it sincerely, then be careful. We are very good at recognizing lies.”

Desna came to stand beside his sister, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. His expression was composed, but his eyes held an intensity that made it clear Eska was not the only one who had been counting the hours. “We do not want to punish you,” he said. “Punishment suggests that you are an outsider who has broken a rule. You are not an outsider.” His gaze moved over you once more, possessive and assessing. “You are part of this household. You are part of us. That means your mistakes become our responsibility, and our responsibility is to correct them.”

Eska reached out at last, not quite touching you, her hand stopping just short as if she were savoring the suspense. “You will remain in the palace tonight,” she said. “Tomorrow, your belongings will be moved into the rooms adjoining ours. The guards will be informed that you are not to leave the inner compound without one of us accompanying you. Any letters you receive will be brought to us first, and any invitations will be declined on your behalf.” Her smile became almost serene. “You will find that everything becomes much simpler when there are fewer choices.”

Desna’s voice followed hers, calm and final. “If someone comes looking for you, they will be told that you are resting. If they insist, they will be told that you are ill. If they continue insisting, they will be removed from the palace grounds.” He paused, studying you for a reaction. “That is not a threat. It is an arrangement.” Eska’s eyes gleamed with quiet delight. “You should be grateful. We are removing all the uncertainty from your life.”

For the first time, Eska glanced toward the place setting that had been prepared at the head of the room. A chair waited there between two others, positioned exactly where both twins could watch it from their seats. “You will sit with us,” she said. “You will eat what is brought to you, drink the tea we choose, and listen while we explain every change that will be made.” She looked back at you, her expression almost affectionate now. “Afterward, you may rest. Desna and I will remain nearby, naturally. We would not want you waking in the night and believing, even for a moment, that you had been abandoned.”

Desna loosened his grip on the cloth-wrapped keepsake but did not return it. “You should understand something,” he said. “We are not asking you to choose between us. That would be unreasonable. We already chose for you.” Eska’s smile widened as she finally stepped aside, revealing the path toward the waiting chair while still leaving no clear route past either of them. “You belong with us,” she whispered. “You always have. You simply needed to be reminded.”

The doors remained locked behind you, the frozen palace stretched silent and immense beyond the walls, and the twins stood together beneath the cold blue light with the absolute confidence of people who believed the outcome had never been in doubt. Eska extended her hand once more, her gaze unwavering, while Desna watched in silence beside her. “Come,” Eska said. “Let us begin again.”

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