Brother A

Tristan walked through the halls in a foul mood. He wasn't always upset or angry. And no, the lines in his forehead weren't carved in stone. It was because he came back to the corner of the palace he despised.

Tristan came this way, past his half-sister's room, all the way to the back end of the palace every morning. Maybe it had to do with his mother's old quarters waiting for him at the end.

Standing in the doorway now, all that remained were cloth-covered furniture, cobwebs, darkness, and squeaking mice. Dust layered the floor—no one allowed in or out. No cleaning. No moving. No spying or scheming inside. Tristan would know immediately if someone had been present. The only footprints outlined in the dust were his own, stopping at the doorway.

It was still early, the sun barely peeking through the stained windows. His feet always carried him here, causing him to rise early to greet his mother.

Tristan could see his shadow painted along the umber floorboards. His brows furrowed deeper as he remembered. His mother's soft hands holding his own. Gentle words of encouragement. A shining white smile greeting him. Her words.

"You are the oldest, be responsible, and look after your family."

"Get along with your siblings. Play nice with little Annie."

"Stand up for them. Protect your brother and sisters."

"I love you."

There was no outward reaction as he recalled the past. It had been a handful of years. His memories were not enough to make him crack. These covered furnishings held the past in place. His mother's death wasn't a tragedy worthy of wailing despondency.

Vex Lionel passed naturally in her sleep. It was peaceful and painless. No poison. No conspiracy. A peaceful death for an amazing mother. Too soon did she leave her children. They hadn't fully grown and were left to flounder under the thumb of an absent father. They only had each other—the three of them.

Tristan closed the doors. Turning a key in the lock, he replaced it in his coat pocket. Pivoting on his foot, he walked away to attend to his duties.

The hallways were silent this early. A servant or two could be observed ducking around corners, hastily going about their business, preparing for the day to come. Food needed to be cooked. Breakfast prepared—people to tend to.

Walking back, he passed by a familiar room. His scowl continued. Having to walk by every day was grating on his nerves. Gritting his teeth, he hurried his steps, not slowing down or stopping for someone irrelevant and helpless.

Another maid or two, and he was nearing his own quarters when he encountered someone new.

"Annie. Why are you up?"

"Tristan! I was looking for you."

Anne was already dressed and embellished, the picture of a lady. She must have woken up bright and early to prepare and meet him.

"Do you have urgent business? Whatever it is, it could have waited until lunch. We usually have tea on Tuesdays, don't we?"

Tristan checked his magical watch. It kept the time and cycled the date for him. It was a complicated piece of magical engineering that took full advantage of every millimeter of space. Anne actually gifted it to him on his 20th birthday.

Anne beamed as she saw her brother using her gift. Then the smile fell.

"Did you come from mother's again?"

Tristan jerked. His hand found comfort on his sword handle. Anne looked at him, worriedly. She stopped visiting their mother's room after the first few months along with Kly. The king never visited, and the staff was ordered to stay away, leaving Tristan with the only key. It felt cold in his pocket.

"You know I visit every morning. That is why you waited here for me so early."

"Don't be like that with me, Tristan. I miss her too. I just can't look at that room anymore. It hurt too much. I cant tell it is hurting you too. I hope you will see that one day."

Tristan was silent at the words. Did they register? Maybe he would remember them at a later date. Right now, he waited for his sister to speak.

Anne held her arm, looking pained. Biting her lip, she asked her question.

"Did you confront Lecil? What didn't she choose one of the Dukes? She's always acting cold and distant, but now she suddenly wants to stay home... Does she think she has the right to stay despite never doing anything and only leeching off her status? I don't want her here anymore. Did you convince her to leave?"

Tristan vaguely recalled being asked to confront Lecil. He was angry that she stayed. He, too, worked hard to convince the King to finally marry her off. She was useless, a drain on the family, and a waste of space. Keeping her held no benefits.

Tristan marched in, already seeing red. The half-sister who was never a part of the family. They are a family of three! Lecil never tried to fit in before; why did she suddenly want to now?

"KILL ME!"

"You're crazy."

"I'm suicidal."

The look in Lecil's eyes was so broken. Someone at the end of her rope. They'd always been rough when dealing with her, to get her to listen. Tristan would admit he went too far by drawing his sword. He couldn't kill his sister. No matter the circumstances. But for her to want to die, by his hand...

"I think we've been too rough with her."

After waiting for an answer, to hear Tristan say such a thing was a surprise for Anne.

"Too rough? She never listens to what others say and refuses to be useful. What are we supposed to do? She isn't a true princess and refuses to act like one. Does she know the kind of role I have to play because she refuses to?"

Curling her fists, she wanted to punch something.

"Annie. She asked me to kill her."

Her fists unclenched. Anne's eyes became saucers. Her voice became breathy.

"She what?"

Tristan said it using Kly's matter of fact face.

"I drew my sword when she angered me. She grabbed the blade and held it to her throat. Wanted me to push her off the edge of the balcony. To choke her. To kill her..."

Anne's delicate face became white.

"She... She did?"

Tristan nodded once.

"She did."

Anne stumbled back.

This... This wasn't what Anne expected. She wanted Lecil to burst into a fit of anger or cry and beg to stay home. To get a reaction out of her. But this didn't fit the usual pattern either.

Anne's words. Her actions. Did all of her deeds lead to this? Surely not. It was Lecil's fault. Her fault for being useless. Her fault for being emotionless and uncaring. Only in the game for herself. To live in luxury and eternally privileged. But...

But... If Lecil was supposed to be emotionless...

"Ah..."

Anne grabbed at her head. She felt nauseous all of a sudden. Tristan looked worried and went to support her, but Anne swatted his hand away.

"I'm fine. I just... I didn't expect her to be so desperate."

If she was so unhappy here, then why didn't she just leave? Take the chance and escape with a Duke as her husband. What was she planning? She definitely couldn't be suicidal. Anne's mind couldn't comprehend it. Despite all their wishes, Lecil was a princess. She had the title. The money. The assets. The potential. Suitors. Everything!

What could she possibly want for?

She bit at her nail for a moment. Tristan's scowl was replaced with concern. Not many saw this side of him. For now, it went entirely unnoticed as Anne contemplated.

"Kly..."

It was a soft whisper. Then Anne's eyes brightened.

"Kly. He encountered Lecil recently as well, right? Is he awake yet? I need to talk to him."

"Should be. Kly is usually out in the training yard by now, setting an example for the recruits."

"I am going to see him. Now."

She turned to go. Tristan stopped her.

"Take an umbrella. It is snowing."

Anne gave Tristan a thankful look.

"I will. Do you still want to meet for lunch?"

Tristan was about to say yes, but he recalled there was a business meeting with Duke Astor.

"Actually. I will be busy. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?"

"Of course. I will see you then, if not at dinner."

"See you."

With that, Anne departed.

Tristan watched her go, unsure. Anne was acting weird. He didn't expect his words to move her so much.

Thinking back on that day. White clouds backdropping twin burning purple embers. Distant snowdrops planted three stories below where he threatened an enraged girl. The dark lifeblood trickling down his untarnished blade. His hand against her throat. Signs already present of an attack...

"Tristan?"

A voice came from behind him. He swiveled to see his sister. Hair dark as night, dressed in an umbral dress, accented with subdued blues. A maid trailing behind her.

"Lecil."

"Fancy meeting you so early! Are you well? Oh my, you look so pale. Did something happen?"

Her concern was unwarranted. There was nothing wrong with him. It was her that was acting strange.

Why are you smiling like you are happy to see me? Why are you frowning as if you worried about me?

His scowl returned in full force. His words were venomous as he turned.

"I don't have time for you."

Tristan marched away, a hand on his sword, remembering.

How can you be so calm? Like nothing happened?

It enraged him to no end.

How can you still smile?

Soft snowflakes drifted down in front of Tristan's vision. His hand around her small throat. The air chilly. The birds absent. Time froze as he stared past the blood, swimming down his blade, reaching his fingers. Past her delicate hands that never held a weapon or tool. One bleeding. The other wrapped around his larger wrist.

Ignoring the dark hair that was frustratingly similar to his own. Into her eyes, he delved. The purple fire that raged at injustice. The fluttering eyelashes blocking his delve. Retreating back into reality. Seeing her creased forehead. The furrowed brows. Her bottom lip quivering. The expression of absolute desperation, depression, and fear.

Did you even notice you were crying?

=

Lecil watched Tristan storm away. Baffled as to why the number above his head now read 8%.