"The soldiers were unnerved by
the general's death,
with whispers of there being a traitor
in their midst."
・ ・ ・
Storm sat on the bench outside the medical centre's Treatment Room, his face buried in his hands, shoulders slumped. Xenor stood a distance away from him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
The sound of Liss' sniffles came from within the Treatment Room, sorrowful and heart-wrenching. Storm grimaced, drawing in a shuddery breath, trying to calm the thuds of his cracked heart, trying to shut out the muffled cries of his mother.
If only to block the grief swamping his mind.
Father.
The image of Bayne's broken body flashed through his mind. His breathing wavered, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Father...!
A soft sob rose in his throat, and he tried to choke it down. It escaped his lips before he could.
There was a clacking of heels beside him as Xenor shifted his weight from one foot to another.
Bayne couldn't be dead. Storm didn't want to believe it. Yet, he couldn't erase the image of his father's corpse from his mind.
He couldn't erase the bloodshed and horrors he had seen with his own two eyes.
A few minutes later, the noises died down. The door opened then, quietly creaking, and out stepped Zana, followed by Silix and Rosemary.
"Zana," Storm gasped out, rubbing his sore, watery eyes, "how is Mother?"
The Head Cleric gave him a strained smile. "She's calmed down, and is currently resting." She took out a toothpick from her pocket and gnawed on it, rubbing her temple. Her shoulders sagged. "But her mental state is still quite fragile. Unsteady. It'll take a while for her to properly stabilise."
Storm bit on his lip, lowering his head. "... I see," he said in a hushed voice, clenching his fists.
Xenor heaved a breath from where he stood, pinching the bridge of his nose. Storm glanced at his brother. Ever since they discovered Bayne's body in his chambers earlier in the morning, he had not shown any form of grief, nor any form of emotions for that matter.
Absolutely nothing.
His face was a constant blank mask, eyes unrevealing, like stone.
He hadn't even uttered a single word.
It was unnerving.
Storm pressed his lips together, staring at the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Silix. The advisor smiled softly at him, his indigo eyes mournful.
It was a soft touch.
Storm managed a crooked smile back at him in appreciation.
"We will make preparations for His Majesty's funeral after Her Majesty recovers," the advisor said, patting his back. "I hope you are alright with that, Your Highnesses."
With a nod, Storm leaned back against the wall, slumping tiredly. Xenor stayed silent, face shadowed by his bangs.
"But... who did it?" Rosemary suddenly whispered. "Who was the one who...?" Her voice wobbled and trailed off, a tense silence falling.
Storm knew what she meant. What she didn't want to say.
Who was the one who killed our king?
He bit his lip.
Who was the one who killed my father?
Bayne had been a wonderful king. A kind, benevolent ruler. It was highly unlikely anyone in the kingdom had a grudge of sorts against him.
Who would hate such a brilliant man like him?
A flurry of rage coursed through his veins, thumped in his heart, and he clenched his fists, digging his nails into the skin of his palms till they shed blood.
Both Silix and Zana stood quietly, their lips pressed into thin lines.
Storm drew in a breath, hoping to calm down his enraged nerves. Vengeful hate bubbled within him, building up slowly, and his lower lip quivered, his fists trembling from the effort of suppressing it all.
"Just— please be careful, Storm. Keep an eye on your brother; he's up to something. And whatever he's planning, it's bound to happen soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year."
Tesarah's words rang in his head, and he released a soft gasp, his eyes widening.
"Your brother, he's planning something. Something bad."
He turned to face his brother, who still had that nonchalant expression on his face, eyes wandering the wall opposite them in an almost absent manner. How empty his green eyes were, Storm noted.
"And he kept muttering things, whenever he was alone. Something about killing."
Storm stood.
Killing.
"Brother," he said softly, voice shaking. Xenor cocked his head at him, raising a questioning eyebrow.
His green eyes continued to show no sign of loss. No sign of pain, grief, nor even a tiny hint of sadness.
Nothing.
Killing.
Storm remembered hearing Xenor mutter something about a king the previous day. The last day he and his father spoke to each other.
"Was it you?" His voice wavered, and he reeled in every last bit of self-control that he had in him. "Were you the one?"
King.
Killing.
Xenor seemed even more befuddled as his eyes narrowed, a frown on his lips.
Kill the king.
"Were you the one who killed Father?"
Gasps resounded as the three adults with them stared at him, stunned. Storm ignored them, focusing only on his brother.
Xenor rolled his eyes, scoffing. "What nonsensical accusations are you spouting, little brother?" His frown turned into a scowl. "I would never commit such a damnable crime."
"Do not lie, Brother," Storm said. A step towards him.
"Why would I lie?" Xenor growled, narrowing his eyes. Anger flared in their green depths.
"You've been so secretive lately," Storm whispered. He lowered his head, his vision waning as Bayne's dead body pervaded his mind once more. "And," he added, drawing in a shuddery breath, "Tesarah told me about what you've been doing, before she left. About what you've been saying to yourself, every night."
"Before she escaped, you mean," his brother spat, drawing himself to his full height as he strode up to him. He glowered down, bangs falling over his face. "So, what did that despicable peasant say?"
Storm swallowed. "You've been staying up at night, and writing in a notepad. You've been muttering things to yourself, things about killing something, or someone. And just recently, I heard you say something about a king." He met his brother's chilling green gaze. "Everything connects together."
Kill the king.
"Really, Brother," Xenor scoffed, "that peasant girl could have easily misheard my words. It is true that I have been writing things, and muttering things, but none of it is related to Father's death."
"Prove it, then," Storm said, his voice wavering. "Prove that you weren't the one who killed F-Father." His eyes started stinging, and he blinked, pursing his lips.
"Are my words not proof enough to you?" His brother leaned down, and their noses almost touched. "I am speaking the truth, little brother."
"And I am telling you to prove it!" Storm snapped, his rage exploding forth. Xenor's frown twisted into an annoyed scowl at his sudden outburst.
"You insolent fool!" his brother hissed, raising a hand. "How dare you retort back at me with such an impudent tone!"
Before Storm could register what was happening, Xenor brought his hand down, and slapped him hard across the cheek. A sharp pain stung his skin, and he gasped, reaching up and touching his swelling cheek.
It was aching, synchronised with the beating of his heart.
"Your Highness Xenor," Silix began uncertainly, stepping forward, "I do not think violence is necessary—"
"Know your place, little brother," Xenor sneered, completely ignoring what the advisor was saying. "It is absolutely ludicrous of you to even suspect me for murder."
Storm gritted his teeth, clenching his trembling fists. "I told you to prove it!" he spat out in Xenor's face, putting up the most lethal death glare he could muster. "Prove to me that you are not the one who killed Father, Brother!"
Xenor's nostrils flared and a hand shot out, grabbing Storm by the throat. "You uncouth hooligan!" His grip tightened, and Storm choked, clawing at his brother's fingers. He kicked out, and his foot connected with Xenor's knee.
His brother staggered, and his green eyes smouldered with untamed, murderous anger, like a crazed wild beast. Storm was thrown to the ground, and he gasped, back aching, touching his throat tentatively.
Xenor stood over him, a looming figure emanating dark, dark fury and suppressed bloodlust. "Did I not say that my words alone are proof?" he snarled. "They are truth! I am truth, unlike you and your defiant, rule-breaking—"
"I do not want to hear your proof!" Storm snapped, getting to his feet. "I want to see your proof. I will not believe you otherwise, Brother."
Xenor's face flushed red, and his green eyes glinted hatefully. "You are exacerbating me with your vexatious attitude, little brother," he growled, "and I am ridiculously tempted to grab you and smash your head again."
"I will not stop until you show me proof of your innocence. Show me what you've been writing every night," Storm shot back, scowling. His muscles were taut with tension, and he had to control his breathing.
"This again?" Xenor frowned scornfully. His fists were balled and shaking. "Your persistence is infuriating. How many times do I have to tell you so you can get it through your thick skull? I am telling the truth!"
"You have been arguing with Father for the past few years, Brother. You have become so... so withdrawn." Storm gazed at his brother, pressing his lips together into a thin line. "Please, Brother. Tesarah told me about your actions, and your behaviour has been suspicious as of late. Just show me, prove to me, that you did not kill Father."
"What is there to prove?" Xenor exclaimed, seemingly fed up. "Don't tell me you actually believe the words of that pathetic wench?"
"Tesarah is not a wench," Storm argued, bristling at the insult towards the white-haired girl. "She is my friend, and I trust her."
"You trust the words of some girl you've only known for three years over the words of your own brother?" Xenor flared, his pupils dilating as fury washed over his face.
"I would rather trust a complete stranger than you!" Storm screamed.
After the words left his lips, Xenor's eyes widened by a fraction, and his mask cracked. Disbelief shone on his face, clear as day, and a tiny flash of disappointed hurt appeared in the depths of his green irises.
Storm faltered at the sudden show of emotions, when previously there had been none, only rage.
An unsettling silence fell, and Xenor raised his chin, eyelids drooping. He stayed that way for a second longer, and when he met Storm's gaze once more, there was no trace of the pain from earlier.
Only empty stone.
"... Very well." His brother shifted, his back facing him.
"Wait, Brother, I didn't mean to—" Storm started, stepping forward. Xenor ignored him, striding away, his head held high. There was a slight shudder in his steps, but he continued on, moving further and further away.
He rounded the corner, and was gone.
Storm stood where he was, arms limp by his side. A sudden exhaustion washed over him, and he crumpled to his knees, helplessly staring ahead.
Xenor did not appear.
His lower lip quivered, and he dropped his head, staring at his hands.
Why did I say that?
A dull pain thudded within, and he drew his knees to his body, burying his face in them.
Why did I say that...?
His shoulders shook as he tried to suppress the tears that threatened to flow from his eyes. A heavy weight settled in his chest, and it was suffocating. Straining.
Heartbreaking.
A sob.
And then arms wrapped themselves around him and Storm glanced up to see Silix, his indigo eyes sympathetic and sorrowful. "Everything will be alright, Your Highness," the advisor said softly, rubbing his arm in a soothing manner. "Have some faith in your brother. You are family."
"But I screamed at him," Storm whispered. He was painfully aware of how lost his voice sounded. "I argued with him. I just said that I didn't trust him." He slumped again, allowing his tears to roll down his cheeks. Little drops of agony and remorse. "Me."
This is not me.
"Hush now, Your Highness. You need to rest," Silix urged, grasping his arm gently and trying to pull him up. Storm shook his head. The burden in his chest was weighing him down. He didn't want to get up. He couldn't get up.
It was just too much.
"I would rather trust a complete stranger than you!"
How he wished he could take his words back.
This is not who I am.
"Silix," he said softly, looking up at the advisor. Silix peered at him. Storm noted how much older he looked, weary wrinkles creasing his face. "Silix."
"What is it, Your Highness?" The advisor tried to pull him up again. He didn't budge, refused to budge.
Some invisible force was pressing him down, crushing him, and his heart sank slowly, slowly, as his mind sluggishly processed what had happened since the beginning of the day.
"What has happened to me?" Storm breathed out, blankly sitting on the marble floor, images of Bayne and blood and Xenor and pain flipping through his mind like some sort of horrific picture book.
A pang crossed Silix's face at his words, as though they had hurt him.
"I... I've been arguing with Brother a lot lately, haven't I?" Storm swallowed, blinking rapidly. The tears wouldn't stop. "I doubted him. I accused him." He raised his head, closing his eyes and allowing the tears to fall freely. "He is my brother, and yet, at one moment in time, I found myself hating him with the entirety of my being."
Silix stayed silent, expression unreadable.
"Father is dead," Storm went on, his voice raspy. "Father is dead, and Mother is heartbroken." He released a hoarse laugh, tilting his head back to stare at the door of the room where his mother lay asleep. "I've only made everything worse by arguing with Brother, and pushing him further away, when he was already so disconnected from us in the beginning."
"It is not your fault, Your Highness," Silix murmured. "Nothing was your fault."
"But it is," Storm said. He sounded feverish. "Father is dead, Mother is heartbroken, and Brother is gone." He lowered his head once more, burying his face back in his knees. "Our family is gone."
"... Her Majesty is not the only one heartbroken, Your Highness," the advisor sighed. He crouched beside him, rubbing his back. "You are, too. You are tired. It has been a long day, and you need to rest."
"I'm not tired," Storm denied, even though he felt his jaded heart twist in his chest, the tears still streaming down from his sore eyes. "I'm not tired..."
"You need to sleep, Your Highness," Zana spoke up. White bangs fell over her face, covering her iris eyes. Even she looked worn, shoulders sagging, leaning against the wall as though standing up straight was too painful to bear. "Surgery can heal fractures, poultices can heal bruises, but only time can heal a broken heart. And during that time, you need plenty of rest."
"Like what Zana said, Your Highness," Silix urged. "Please. What would your father want you to do, if he were here?"
Storm paused in his lamenting, recalling Bayne's everyday behaviour. Happy, light-hearted, and encouraging. Kind, caring, loving.
Father...
"... He'd want me to rest," he mumbled blearily.
"So rest." Silix smiled sadly at him. Storm nodded, standing shakily, and Rosemary took his arm and guided him out of the medical centre to his room.
They passed his parents' room along the way, and he faltered in his steps, frightening images of Bayne's body flicking through his mind. He quickly shook them out, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the fresh wave of pain that roiled in his heart.
When they finally reached his room, he halted at the door, glancing to the right, where Xenor's room was.
An aura of gloom hung outside the door. He pursed his lips, edging towards his brother's chambers.
Rosemary touched his arm. "You can do what you need to do later, Your Highness," she murmured. There was a worry in her eyes that made Storm flinch.
It looked so much like Bayne's, whenever he got worried.
"... Alright," he responded desolately, and entered his room.
He was met with a thick silence, and an unwelcoming darkness. The curtains were still drawn, he noticed, which was the cause of the heavy shadows in the room. He gingerly stepped towards his bed, and collapsed on it, only realising then just how drained he actually was.
His eyelids fluttered, and he sank into his bed, releasing a soft sigh.
"Sleep well, Your Highness," he heard Rosemary say, as she pulled the covers over him. The door clicked shut; the maid left.
Storm lay in the deafening silence, drowsily turning and facing the ceiling.
Father...
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before exhaling slowly.
Then, sleep reached up to claim him, and he fell into it with open arms.