Pilot: Remembered

"3! 2! 1! Commence!" A muscular swordsman instructed the two young boys of the household to start the mock duel. Both, filled with energy; charged at each other courageously. While the younger one did have some talent, the older's two years' training made their difference in skill apparent.

In minutes, Jean's wooden sword fell out of his frail hands as the whistle marked the end of the first round. Smiling at his younger brother, Elijah picked up the fallen sword and handed it back to him.

The teacher was initially worried that this strong brotherhood may impede their growth but his qualms were soon relieved when both got into a battle stance eagerly.

Admiring the love which inspired such competition, he ordered them again to: "Commence!"

With renewed excitement, Elijah pounced at the little boy who maintained a defensive posture. With each blow, Elijah's confidence rose and he pushed on with greater strength, revealing wider spaces as he did.

This was exactly what Jean had been aiming for. Grasping the chance, he hit his older brother in the head with all the strength he could muster.

.

..

...

Thud

Elijah fell to the ground, unconscious.

...

He doesn't know what happened to his brother that day or what dream he had in those few moments but when Elijah woke up again, he seemed different.

Jean could see in his eyes a newfound anger so hard that his hair stood on ends.

Jumping out of the sickbed amidst several protests, Elijah found him crying endlessly beside him.

As he saw him closing in, he looked up: "Broth- I- Hic- My fault- Hic- Too Hard." Hiccups prevented any room for fluency.

Flashing his angered gaze at him, he grabbed him harshly by the shoulder and took him out into the corridoor.

As they got out, each servant, maid or soldier saw with utter astonishment how the 'lovely' Lord Elijah dragged young Jean over to the training field. He hadn't yet stopped crying.

Swiftly grabbing the training swords, he threw one at Jean. It fell right in front of him but he kept looking straight at his older brother. His mind was blank and all he could think was that his sibling was very upset with him: "I... am... sorry..."

He took a pause after each word to catch his breath in between crying and speaking: "Really... sorry... brother -Hic- I thought... you would... evade..."

Unbothered by him, Elijah adopted a firm position: "Pick that up." He demanded in a low voice: "And fight."

Jean couldn't understand what had come over him. Wiping away his tears, though they hadn't yet stopped flowing- he picked up the fallen stick, grabbing it weakly.

Without warning, Elijah came at him with unbelievable speed. Barely blocking it, Jean felt the true hate which surrounded the blow and so, the child grew more and more frightened.

Involuntarily, snot accompanied the tears and he struggled to hold onto the weapon. When Elijah came at him again, it went flying through the air effortlessly eventually landing in the garden with a soft thud.

Defenseless, tired and broken; Jean fell down on his knees. He was having the worst day. Even now, reduced to such a state, he was relieved that it was finally over...

...or so he had thought.

The fuming boy did not back down from the unarmed child and walked towards him with slow, scary steps. The younger one, just now realizing the situation-covered his head with both arms. He could think of nothing but to scream... but the voice didn't come out.

Steadily, frighteningly, Elijah walked towards him and raised the stick for a vertical slash, gripping the hilt with both hands to ensure maximum force.

Just then, the knight entered and hurried to stand between them: "Young lord! What are you doing!?" He tried to awaken him from the trance and succeeded to a great degree.

Thud

He dropped the sword softly and turned back to leave. Neither Sir Dmitry nor the fretful Jean understood what happened and when Elijah reached the threshold, he half-turned to look at the latter with the same piercing gaze he had woken up with: "From this moment, stay in your deuced limits."

He announced in his low voice and left the area.

All the onlookers attributed that day to a blow on the older's pride and consoled the crying boy so.

But he had seen for himself the look in his eyes. That, he reckoned was something far more than what it seemed.

-

"You should not have done that." The man talking to him was about forty years of age but his defeated expression made him look older: "And since then your behaviour is not changing for the better. Why is that?"

"What do you mean, father? What else should I do?" Elijah rebuked: "Love him once again? ...and wait for my death?"

The old man shook his head as he tried to reason with him: "He's not Elia, my son. He's Jean. Jean Jules... Your brother."

"Exactly what he was too." He spoke calmly and looked at the surroundings menacingly. One of the maids locked eyes with him and scurried past the lake. To them, he was a madman often talking to himself.

"Yes, but they're not the same." The apparition of his father said calmly.

Unrelentingly, Elijah looked away from him but did not pursue the matter further.

After a brief moment of silence, he looked at the ghost with hopeful eyes: "How do you feel today? When do you think you'll wake up from the coma?"

The pale old man shifted in his seat uncomfortably: "I'm better. Can you not see how lively I am?"

Elijah knew better than to believe him and so he sighed coldly. As he scanned the garden, he saw another servant hurrying to get out of his sight.

Except for a loyal few, most of the manor staff thought him mad. But he wasn't bothered by it because sometimes, in the corner of his mind, he thought so too.

It was because everytime he talked to Baron Jules; his father, he reasoned that he was actually talking to himself, telling himself the bitter truth he had tried so hard to overlook.

The theory was plausible but he did not want to believe it

In both his lives, he hadn't gotten much of anything akin to fatherly love and this, he supposed, was compensation. A friend who somehow felt like both his fathers at the same time- Even if it wasn't real, it was beautiful.

...

But if it was really the soul of his father that appeared to him, Elijah couldn't just stay still. Because if the nervously fidgeting ghost was real, it meant that contrary to the son's wishes, he wasn't waking up... again.