Chapter Text
Jupiter stared at Bertram from across the desk.
“Why Christmas Eve?” He said finally, breaking the silence.
“Do you want my update or not?” Bertram leaned back in his chair, propping his legs up on the desk.
Jupiter leapt forward to catch his favorite picture of Jack before it clattered onto the floor. He placed it safely in the drawer and turned back to his brother, stuffing down the resentment that bubbled up inside of him.
He’s just trying to get to you. He reminded himself, Don’t let him .
“Yes.” He said evenly, “I do. What is it?”
“Morrigan’s been enjoying the holiday season. She’s not around as much now that she’s gone back to school, but the Darling’s social calendar is keeping her busy.”
“So nothing.” Jupiter nearly let his mouth fall open, “You took me away from my family on Christmas Eve to tell me she’s the same as she has been for weeks ?”
“You wanted an update, I gave it. And anyway, I have commitments of my own, you know. I wasn’t free until now.” Bertram shrugged.
“Do you seriously have nothing else to tell me?” Disbelief rolled off of Jupiter, not only because he didn’t believe his brother could be so entitled, but because Bertram genuinely believed that the nothing he had reported was good enough to drag Jupiter away from his favorite Christmas tradition . “This could have been a letter .”
“You’re the one who insisted on meeting in person.” Bertram argued back, knocking another few things off Jupiter’s desk as he planted his feet back on the ground. “And anyway, I’m risking my hide for you. If the Darlings find out I’m spying on their niece, they’ll get me voted out of the Greater Circle in the next Silver Assembly.”
“Oh, how awful.” Jupiter sneered, staring forcefully at the objects that now scattered his study floor. “You’d have to give up the cushy life you’ve bought for yourself.”
Bertram raised his eyebrow and gestured around the room, “Calling my life cushy? You live in an eight star hotel.”
“Nine.” Jupiter corrected without thinking. “And I work here. I work for every second I spend here.”
“And I worked for my place in the Silver District.”
“You bought your way in.”
“With money I made off of my successful business. If I get on the wrong side of the Darlings, they could ruin my reputation. I could lose my business.”
“You might just deserve it.” Jupiter muttered under his breath.
Bertram leaned forward, “What did you just say?”
“I said , you might just deserve it.” The dying embers in the fireplace roared to life, crackling with Jupiter’s simmering anger. “Losing your business might just be a fitting punishment for ignoring your niece for three years.”
“Do you always have to bring that up? I’m not ignoring her. I’m doing exactly what you said. I’m looking out for her.”
“Only because I begged you to. I had to make you swear on our Wunsoc oath to look out for her. Otherwise you NEVER would have cared!” Jupiter stood up, pacing in front of his fireplace. The sparks licked at his boots.
“Save the lecture, Jove. I have enough going on in my life. I don’t need-”
Jupiter threw up his hands, “I’ve had ENOUGH of the martyr act and the pitiful excuses! I am sick to DEATH of covering for you. I’m sick of lying for you.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” Bertram waved a hand dismissively, turning in the chair to look at Jupiter. He smirked at the open display of frustration.
“Is this funny to you?” Jupiter wheeled on his brother, towering over him, “Do I look like I’m laughing?” The fire grew, escaping the bounds of the hearth. Jupiter felt its warmth on the backs of his ankles. If this had been any other situation, he would have been afraid of his pants setting on fire.
“Not even remotely funny, dear brother .” Bertram curled his lip, shifting uncomfortably.
Good. Jupiter met his gaze unflinchingly, forcing Bertram to look away first.
And he did. “You’ll recall I never asked you to cover for me, nor to make my excuses.” Bertram tried to straighten up again, but the storm spilling out of Jupiter seemed to intimidate him enough. “You took that role upon yourself, as always.”
As always . Those words weighed heavier than the medals the search for Rosie had awarded him.
“Bold of you to call me the martyr.”
Jupiter pulled back to return to pacing by the fire, feeling a little guilty for intimidating somebody who was supposed to be his family.
“You could turn this around. It’s not too late.” He kept his voice quiet, knowing if he spoke any louder, the fire inside him would escape in a yell. He hated yelling. He hated how much yelling he’d been doing lately.
Bertram scoffed, “As if my presence would make a difference.”
The hearth roared, almost burning Jupiter’s ankles. Anger closed its fist around him, squeezing out any trace of composure he had left. His ears began to ring.
“You have no idea what kind of difference it would make!” He snarled, staring at the wall so he couldn’t see the pathetic and uncaring expression on Bertram’s face, “Because you’ve never cared to SHOW UP!” He slammed his fist into the wall, feeling his skin sting where he connected. He pressed harder, trying to replace the ringing in his ears with a stinging in his palm.
The chair behind him creaked as Betram got to his feet, “Oh, enough. Enough . You don’t want me to show up to anything, because you don’t want anyone to show up…” Jupiter could hear the sneer in his voice, “or to show you up . This arrangement is perfect for you! Admit it, Jove! You get to be the hero, like always- the responsible one-”
“Don’t talk rubbish.” Jupiter told himself over and over again that it was bait, that Bertram was just trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working. He turned around again, almost flinching away from the overwhelming red anger that flowed off of his brother. It filled the room like a cloud.
Despite the interruption, Bertram pressed on. “-the noble one, stepping in to fix everybody else’s mistakes.” He jabbed his finger into Jupiter’s chest, “‘Cos you’re perfect, aren’t you? Captain Jupiter Amantius North, the golden boy.”
Bile rose in Jupiter’s throat, those three little words filled him with such a visceral discomfort. The words crawled in his veins, choking through his entire life. He spent every waking moment, and some of his sleeping ones, trying to live up to that expectation. The weight that had been placed on his shoulders since he was so young. The golden boy. The best in his Unit. Sought after for his rare knack . He had relished in the attention as a child, soaked up every scrap, but now, in the moments where it weighed the heaviest, he just wished it would stop.
“Always everybody’s favourite. Well, guess what? You can’t fix my mistakes, mate. They’re far too many and far too heinous.” Bertram sat back down in his chair with a grim smile.
Jupiter scoffed, Bertram’s words leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
Everybody’s favorite, except yours.
“Oh, spare me.” He laughed bitterly, “Do something better with what’s left of your life! Make up for your mistakes! I could think of one place to start.”
“You sound just like…” Bertram trailed off into a resentful chuckle.
The argument died as they both fell silent. It must have only been a moment, but standing there, staring at Bertam, Jupiter thought it could have been hours. “You couldn’t even be bothered coming to the funeral.” His voice cracked, even as he tried to keep it together.
The following silence was heavy with words unsaid.
I needed you and you weren’t there .
He was our patron. Yours and mine. Nobody understood what I was going through, not in the way you would have.
And you didn’t even show up.
Jupiter tried to inhale through his constricted throat, but it came out as more of a whistle.
Do you not even miss him?
He hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Bertram opened his mouth as if he was going to finally say something, finally explain , but he just coughed, blood beginning to trickle from his nose.
Of course.
Jupiter’s lip curled, but he grabbed a box of tissues from his drawer in one swift motion. He had stowed it there years and years ago, back when Bertram visited much more often.
He pulled some tissues for himself and threw the rest of the box onto the desk. “Here,” He found himself unable to keep the contempt out of his voice, “Wipe your face, Bertie, for goodness’ sake.”
He dabbed his own eyes as Bertram complied, dumping the bloody tissues back on the desk. Jupiter briefly imagined throwing a well timed punch and giving Bertram a real reason to have a bloody nose, but he managed to rein himself in.
“I didn’t come here to suffer the same boring lecture I’ve heard a thousand times.” Bertram’s voice was muffled by the tissues, “You wanted information, I gave you information. Exchange complete. Even stevens.”
Jupiter started at Bertram like he’d grown an extra head. “ Far from even-”
“Regardless,” He raised his voice to speak over Jupiter, “Don’t expect me to go spying for you anymore. You’re going to get me run out of town.”
Jupiter snorted, “Would you care?”
“Don’t patronize me, Jove. You have no idea what my life is like.” Bertram stood, shoving his chair back with a loud scrape.
Of course I don’t, you haven’t been bothered to tell me. Jupiter wanted to bite back, but he kept a lid on his fury for the moment. The conversation was over, there was no reason to prolong the argument, no matter how much he wanted to.
He followed Bertram out into the hallway, one hand lingering on the study doorframe. “I’ll see you to the lobby.”
“I don’t require an escort.” Bertam didn’t bother to keep his emotions in check the same way Jupiter did.
“You will if Fenestra sees you.” Jupiter backed into his study, “She’s not your biggest fan, either.”
And he slammed the door behind him. Just for the extra dramatic flair.
Why did he even bother to try and reason with his brother anymore? Bertram hadn’t listened to reason in five years, why would he start now?
He got to work returning his study to the way it was, sweeping the tissues into the bin and stowing the box away again. He couldn’t bear to throw it away, to abandon all hope of reclaiming what he and his brother once had. As he busied himself with cleaning, he caught a glance of his shadow, and the second, smaller shadow that had appeared next to it.
“Come on. Bertie barely counts as younger.” He muttered to himself. The shadow didn’t change. His gift had never really been as responsive to his complaints as the Deucalion was.