So ti in the past...
"Roman?"
"Hey Syla, what’s up?" Roman shouted, his voice carrying over the open courtyard reserved for the royal siblings where they trained. A bright, easy smile stretched across Roman’s face as he strode forward, arms open in greeting. He knew that Syla would never agree to a hug, but Roman always offered it anyway.
Roman considered Syla as one of his favourite brothers - the one he could always vibe with, the one whose laughter never felt forced.... Little did Roman know.
The Fae before him had a warmth that could lt away even the deepest shadows, a presence so steady and unwavering that it had always felt like ho.
Roman loved his family unreservedly, and anyone could see it - not just in the way he spoke of them but in how he was with them. Most people around comnded Roman for this, and others thought him a fool for doing this.
The effortless way he tossed his nephews and nieces into the air, the protective way he stood beside his family, and the quiet reverence in his voice when he spoke of their ancestors and parents made Roman a very likeable fellow.
He had a certain enthusiasm, a contagious energy that made even the most mundane monts feel alive. It was the kind of presence people gravitated towards - the kind that made them feel safe.
And yet, behind the responding smile of his brother, unseen and buried deep, was a darkness that had festered for too long. It was unknown if Roman knew of this and was only pretending not to, but whatever the case, Roman’s treatnt of his siblings remained sa.
Syla rolled his eyes at his brother’s overly informal and carefree nature.
’When is he ever going to grow up?’ Syla thought.
Syla smiled at his brother but couldn’t help rolling his eyes simultaneously. His dark thoughts about his brother had always been kept tightly sealed, locked away where even he refused to acknowledge them, yet, as he watched his brother - noble, strong, and utterly unaware of the weight of his own existence - resentnt curled at the edges of Syla’s mind.
’As expected,’ he thought bitterly; those who have it never know how to cherish it.
His brother, the golden heir, the beloved warrior, had always carried his power with ease as if it were rely an extension of himself. He had never known what it felt like to reach, to grasp, to claw for even a fraction of it.
Roman had never known what it ant to be lesser. Everything that Roman did seed effortless, while Syla had to put in his everything to get a fraction of the results. This had always been the case from childhood and even though Syla had seen it coming, when it had been confird that Roman was the next apparent heir, it had taken his everything to keep his composure and congratulate his brother.
One would never truly understand what that felt like until one had walked in those shoes .... until one had mastered the art of deception beneath a mask of warmth.
Imagine standing before soone, not just a single person, but in front of a whole populace that you had thought that you would be leading, but offering congratulations to another. Also, imagine doing this with a bright, welcoming smile, while deep inside, every intrusive thought clawed for release. The weight of resentnt and the suffocating grip of envy were all carefully restrained behind a polished facade.
It would have been easier among ordinary people ... those who only saw what was presented to them. But here? In this Fae-land? In a populace where most could literally read minds, where unguarded emotions could spill like ink on parchnt, one had to be more than careful.
One had to be flawless. Most importantly, one needs all of their self-will to mask this thought from those with the capability of seeing through them. To add to this, the royals were screened on such pronouncent days for such dark thoughts, so Syla had been in an even darker predicant that fateful day, but at least he was able to get through it. As for the asures he had employed, it was sothing only Syla knew.
And so Syla was. His mind was a fortress. His heart, a hidden abyss. His words, laced with honey while his soul dripped with venom.... This was the typical description of a double-faced person.
"Why is the future heir so carefree? You are supposed to be conforming to the rules of the pal-"
"Yadayadayada..." Roman picked up a towel and wiped his sweaty body. He had been in the middle of a exercise, when Syla had co in.
’Even his body is to die for!’ Syla scorned, his eyes almost turning red at that notion.
"Seriously, Syla... lighten up! Those rules are so suffocating! It was too much of a burden when our parents were here... why do you want to follow in their footsteps? We should be free, now that they are not here...."
Syla felt his chest tighten as his brother spoke, each word striking a nerve he hadn’t even realized was raw. A slow burn of anger simred beneath his skin, creeping up his spine like a restless beast. But Syla couldn’t afford to let it show .... not yet.
His hands remained relaxed at his sides, his face carefully composed, but his jaw clenched just slightly before he forced it to loosen. A chuckle ... light, easy, and deceptive, but only to the very observant ones...escaped his lips, masking the storm raging inside.
Syla t Roman’s gaze, his own eyes unreadable.
"Is that so? I’ll go with what our future king says then..." he said smoothly, though his fingers curled just the faintest bit. Syla had spent years perfecting this act, learning how to mask his emotions beneath layers of charm and nonchalance. But deep down, beneath the practised exterior, the anger remained—a quiet, growing thing, waiting for the mont to strike.
"Your words are the law, so...."
"Stop being so uptight about everything, Syla.... It’s true that I have been nominated and have the official affirmation, but there is a lot more that has to go on in the interim...."
Syla did not respond to this, as if he wanted to dismiss the statent in a whatever stance.
"Anyway, where have you been sneaking off to nowadays?"
As soon as the question was asked, the Roman froze, caught between truth and silence. His lips parted slightly, but no words ca out. How could he even begin to explain? How could he tell his brother that he had found sothing... soone .... A woman so extraordinary that it defied everything he had ever known? Roman thought that he knew the world until he had t her.
The mont the thought crossed Roman’s mind, an image of her surfaced, so vivid it nearly took his breath away.
’My Geneva....’ He wanted to say, but Roman knew that Syla liked to pry into thoughts. For Geneva’s sake, he could not let it slip. The way the ethereal glow of the blue skies and sun had illuminated her form, how her eyes held secrets deeper than ti itself. Roman could still hear Geneva’s soft yet powerful voice and feel the warmth of her touch against his palm when he made that promise...
He had vowed never to touch any woman before he had wed her, but with Geneva, that promise was enough.
This promise he was desperate to keep. It’s a promise that Roman had staked his life on. He knew what it ant to lay with a human, but Roman had been captivated out of his senses this ti. He just could not help it. His heart thundered just at the thought of it, of her, of the world they had shared, if only for a fleeting ti.
Unbeknownst to him, his longing was written all over his face, his emotions an open book. And his brother read every page.
Syla’s face twisted in fury, the mask he had so carefully worn slipping away. This ti, he did not bother to hide it. How could he? How dare he?
That woman ... the one he had set his sights on, the one ant to be his.... was betrothed to this very brother. She was powerful enough to co with the crown, so whoever got the crown would marry her.... This was why Syla was angry beyond asure.
Why must he get everything?!
Syla’s nails dug into his palms as he swallowed the scream threatening to claw its way up his throat. He could feel the rage creeping in, dark and insidious, curling around his mind like a vice.
No. This was not sothing he would simply accept. He had spent too long watching his brother claim what should have been his.
This ti, he would not stand by and watch.
"It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but why let Ash wait for so long?"
"Huh?" Roman responded absentmindedly,
"Ash? You an that woman, who is betrothed? Why will she look for ? I have said that I would not marry her .... I an, if you care for her so much, why not take her? I am sure that can be arranged, brother. You’d like that, right?"
Syla’s heart nearly stopped. But instead of happiness, a darker, sinister emotion arose.
*********
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