Pain's the worst

Kyler turned his horse away from the crowd and nudged it into a walk towards his mother and stepfather's home, ready to be far from so many eyes. Most of them looked at the newcomer who was telling them feverishly about this Beast, but a few glanced curiously at Kyler and his crutches. 

He hated curiosity.

Sure, he put up a good front most days. Everyone was convinced he was coping cheerfully with his broken legs and suffering only physically from it. He was even able to convince himself, most of the time… 

But with Shayn gone, that had become much harder. The extent to which his younger brother eased his life had been grossly underestimated. He and Shayn had built such a complete routine that Kyler barely noticed his disability when the other man was around. 

Shayn anticipated his needs almost before Kyler remembered them, himself. To have that suddenly gone after years together was… eye-opening. 

Kyler realized just how intensely he depended on the younger man, and began to hate himself for it. How much of Shayn's life had he taken up with his needs? Kyler had been not-so-subtly pushing his brother to pursue the pretty librarian, convinced that Shayn's happiness would add to his own. 

He only now realized that was a gross miscalculation. His brother's happiness necessarily meant absence from Kyler's life. Even if they lived together after Shayn inevitably got married, it wouldn't be the same. 

And that was the way it should be. Shayn shouldn't be tied to a crippled man. He should be out living his own life. Family. Children. Everything. All the things Kyler wouldn't have, because no woman would want someone like him. 

His mother fussed over him in the most well-meaning way. It wasn't bad with Shayn around to cushion the intensity of her attention, but he could see pity a mile away. She was a wonderful mother, but even she couldn't keep it out of her eyes how badly she ached when she looked at his legs. 

He could tell she felt his pain keenly, though she tried to hide it. He knew it was intended as compassion, but for him it felt like shame. And it would be worse without Shayn around to make his life seem as normal as possible. 

He would have to ask for what he needed, constantly. The routine was gone, the person who knew him best in the world off chasing giants. It wasn't so bad in the wilderness; Victoria and Walter were used to him and the halflings never showed pity. 

He'd only been back in Klain an hour or two and already was tired of the looks he was getting. 

Poor, useless soul. A waste of food and resources in difficult times. A broken man. 

The thing he'd been determined never to be. The first several doctors had given up on him, saying he would never walk, and they had no time to waste on a crippled man. 

He was fifteen when his legs were crushed in the war. 

"Try to understand," One had said. "We have injuries everywhere. You're in no danger of dying, and I can't prioritize you over the ones in mortal danger." 

Kyler's face darkened. He had understood, in theory, that as many lives needed to be saved as possible. But the flames of hope in his teenage heart had been all but smothered at the realization of how little importance he held in the world. 

Riley's interference in the subject was curbed by his duties to rebuild the city's hierarchy, locate the missing Rhone Prince Roland, and oversee everything else. 

Mayra's wedding had come all too soon, with the family's attention torn between Kyler's infirmity and her happiness. Joy was the more enticing, and obvious choice, even for him. He didn't want to ruin her special day. 

So he hid how badly he was doing, as often as he could. He couldn't drag everyone down. He wouldn't be the person who made his only sister sad on what should be the happiest day of her life. 

And it was. Everyone had a wonderful time, full of the joy of her love. It had also been the day when his mother and their old neighbor had begun their unexpected courtship. As Phillip took on the role of stepfather, the merging of the households became yet another reason for Kyler to put himself on the backburner. 

The doctors continued to brush off his quest to walk again. Dr. Sherman was the most empathetic among them, and seemed truly regretful that he didn't have the ability to help Kyler. 

More than one had suggested to him that it might be a form of madness to continue hoping and believing that walking was possible. That had been the most difficult blow to push past. Being crippled and in constant pain was bad enough, but it paled in comparison to being written off as a madman. 

It was ultimately Shayn's unfailing commitment to Kyler's health that had convinced the elder to continue searching for someone who could help. It took over a year to find a doctor willing to try anything beyond what the original treatment had been. 

Risky and unproven, the surgery had been enough to allow the young man to put weight on his legs again. It had been almost as painful as the original injuries, and took many months of healing and trying before he could even stand for more than a second or two, and even longer to learn to walk with his special crutches. 

Shayn was enormously proud of his older brother. He'd whooped with victory and caught him up in an enthusiastic hug, then called every family member and friend they had to come and watch Kyler take a few uneasy steps. 

As if it were something more than a mere toddler could do to move from one side of a room to another. 

For how hard he worked at it, he felt he should be prouder of being on his feet again, but the pain undercut the pride. The constant dull pain that colored every minute of his life, rising into sharp stabs at unexpected moments. It was something he'd come to live with, but also hate. 

That one day, when he and Shayn had found a hot spring in their travels, and decided to take baths in them. For several glorious moments his body was too distracted by the new sensation to be in pain. He treasured that memory almost as much as he resented it. 

It was a reminder of what he could be, might have been, and should be. 

He gritted his teeth and looked over his shoulder. The raving lunatic talking about the beast that could heal people was still gathering an audience. "To the South!" He ranted at the people. "To the sea, and turn west! The beast welcomes all!"

Kyler's horse turned the corner towards his parents home. To be a burden to them. There was no useful employment for him there. He couldn't labor alongside his stepfather, couldn't stand long enough with his mother to help her with most of the chores. 

During his time of being unable to walk at all, she had taught him the skills she knew. Darning, crocheting, sewing. He was a fair hand at them, but it wasn't something he took pride in. Perhaps with more extensive study he could have been a tailor. 

Even so, it was wasteful for him to have a home of his own. He needed too much help to function entirely independently, and there was no point in establishing a residence when he would never have his own family. 

Bitterness burned at the back of his throat as the horse stepped on a loose cobblestone and jolted him slightly. Pain shot through his tired bones. He didn't cry out. He'd gotten good at suppressing that reflex long ago. 

The loudest concession he ever gave the pain was a sharp intake of breath, but he eschewed even that at the moment, clenching his jaw as the only indication of how much he hurt. 

He reined the horse in, patting its neck to have something to concentrate on while he gathered himself back together once more. How many of these little tactics he employed in his daily life! How many silly habits, like pretending to stretch his shoulders after he stood up. A habit, to others. For him, a short delay so that he wouldn't have to take painful steps right away as the blood rushed downward into his damaged limbs and sent painful needle-like sensations all over. 

If anyone had noticed, they said nothing. It was just one of Kyler's quirks. 

With nothing to contribute to the city now, he was little more than a liability. Dinner had stretched a little thin inside. It would have gone further without him there. He glanced over his shoulder once more. There was still a short time before the city gates closed. He could make it out. 

Turning his horse left instead of right, he used his slightly better leg to kick the horse into an excruciating trot. Whatever was going to happen, it would be on his own head alone.