Chapter Text
one year, it had been one year since the war. one year, since my father’s passing, and one year since my coronation. Though it felt like just yesterday I’d been reciting the oath before the pews full of people, watching their eyes pick me apart, watching them wonder what sort of king I would be, and once I was done, my father’s bejeweled crown was placed on my head, nestled in my brown curls.
That same crown sat on my desk. I found that it was too heavy to wear for extended periods of time, its weight left my neck aching and the way I slouched over my papers caused it to keep slipping off of my head. I had taken to wearing it only when it was absolutely necessary, which lately, had been rarely.
This desk was where I resided most of my days, the desk that, one year ago, had belonged to my father. As had the room. I remember the day my brothers and I had found out about the war, and that our father had been asked to help the neighboring kingdom. I remembered the day he called his banners to arms and set off. I remember the raven that carried the letter, black as ink, its eyes cold and beady, it had squawked loudly and flapped around on the floor where it had landed, having struggled through the cutting winds. That was the last good day, the giddiness that comes with children allowed to be home alone replaced with the shock and disbelief and confusion of losing a parent. I blinked quickly, jarring myself out of my memories and rubbing my eyes. The ink from my quill had formed a large dark blotch on the parchment, where I had left off writing.
I retire the quill to the ink pot and lean back in my chair, heaving a sigh. Exhaustion weighing down my eyelids, I had not slept well in what seemed like forever. This particular night I had spent tossing and turning in bed, never able to fall asleep. So, as the sky outside lightened and the gray light filtered through the sheer curtains, I decided to try to tire myself out by working. My attempt proved to be fruitless.
Rubbing my aching wrist, I stretched out my legs and stood, casting a brief glance to the window before going to get dressed for the day. It was early, but I had nothing else to do, and I certainly didn’t want to keep writing.
So, when I heard soft footsteps coming down the hall, I felt a sort of relief. I knew that it would be someone coming to speak to me, but what warranted them coming to my bedroom at such early hours? I let my eyes fall shut, squeezing them closed until black spots danced in my vision when I opened them again.
Then there was the knock on the door, and a voice calling to me from the other side, asking if I was awake. For a moment I hesitated, recognizing the voice as my twin brother, Achlys.
“Yes, yes I am. Come in.” I say finally, not turning to look as the door creaked open and the slight draft from the hallway creeped into the room. My brother, older by a mere few hours,, we are far from identical, some say we don’t look even related, until you look close. By the shape of an eye, or the helix of an ear, we are twins. In our youth, we used to do everything together, until our younger brother was born, and a year after that, our mother passed. A rift grew in the family, and as a result, nepotism from our father drew us even further apart.
Our father made it very clear which of his children was his favorite. With lavish gifts and praise, and attention that he did not offer his two younger sons. Achlys was a shining star in their dark solar system.
“.....Judas? Did you hear what I said?” my brother’s words roused me from my thoughts, causing me to glance up finally, had I spaced out? If I did, then I didn't even realize it.
A hum rose in my throat, and I blinked hard, brushing stray hairs from my eyes. “Hm? Ah, no. What did you say?” I questioned, finally turning on my heel to look at my brother. He had his hair tied up, loose strands framing his face.
He looked tired, though I was sure we all did. Ever since the king’s passing no one ever seemed to get sleep, and until a few months ago Tommy had been climbing into bed with me at night, not that I minded it. His company, and his warmth was welcome in my cold, sad bed.
Once upon a time I’d shared a room with my younger brother, and now that I slept alone, in a room that didn't belong to me, I wished for that comfort again.
“I asked if you wanted to go wake Tommy, and then maybe eat breakfast together? Like we used to?” Achlys had a hopeful look on his features. Now that I thought about it,, it had been a while since we all sat down and ate together, as a family.
Even before my father's passing we didn’t, or at least, I didn’t eat breakfast with my brothers. I used to hide away in my room, not wanting to have to face my father’s judgemental gaze.
I debated it, carding my fingers through my hair. “Sure, it has been a while since we last sat down as a family, and had an actual conversation.” I shifted my weight on my feet, and smoothed the wrinkles on my shirt. I am weary, I did not eat much these days, exhaustion and hunger rendered me weak. But it wasn't like I could very well help it.
Nothing else was said between us, though it wasn't like anything else needed to be said. A comfortable silence settled between my brother and I as he slipped out of the room, holding the door open for me for a split second. I followed soon after, letting my bedroom door fall shut behind myself as I started after my twin brother.
As we walked down the corridor, I caught glimpses of the cloudy skies through the high arched windows. The gray clouds were heavy with rain, it looked like the heavens would split open at any minute, and the angels would pour their tears down on the earth. Mourning alongside us three boys.
I turned my gaze downwards, staring at the plush carpet that lined almost every hallway of the eastern wing of the kingdom, it muffled our footsteps. I remembered taking my shoes off and sliding on this carpet when I was younger, chasing my brother through the halls, little Tommy bumbling after us, tripping over his unsteady feet and struggling to keep up with us two taller boys. It seemed like eons ago, we had been little kids, enjoying our childhood.
Now we were older, grumpier, and absolutely exhausted. There was no time for running around the halls playing tag and hide and seek, we barely make time to get away from everything and be together.
I must’ve zoned out again, because before I knew it we were nearing Tommy’s room. The large, carved door grows closer with every step. I remembered that their younger brother had asked for those specific carvings in the wood, begging our father every day once he was told he was old enough to have a room to himself.
After a lot of pleading, father had given in apparently, though I couldn't remember the exact time the door had been commissioned, I never paid much attention to that sort of thing back then.
I leaned against the wall beside the door as Achlys knocked, and listened to the sound of our brother moving around his room. Presumably changing out of his night shirts and throwing on anything he could find so he could answer the door.
Tommy had always been like that, slightly disheveled, in a boyish way. Wrinkled clothes, dirt smudged on his skin, and it was always right before some sort of event or meeting. For the life of him, the boy could barely clean up well.
Before I knew it, the door was opening once more and our golden haired brother was stepping out. immediately I noted the dark circles under the boy’s shining blue eyes, glistening in a way that made it look like he’d been crying.
I would not mention it to him, no, that was a conversation for another time, another day. A time where we weren’t trying to avoid any mention of the grief that plagued us all. A time when it would be appropriate to bring it into light.
“... the last time we did this? It seems like eonnnsss! And I don't even know what eons are!” I glanced up from the carpet, realizing that Tommy was speaking. the words elicited a snort from me, and I reached out and ruffled his blonde hair. “Tommy, an eon is a billion years. It sounds like someone needs to stop skipping his tutoring.” I quipped with a smile, listening to Tommy start to complain about how tiring it was, and how boring his tutors were.
idly nodding along, and giving an occasional hum in reply whilst following Achlys down the stairs, my hand hovering over the polished banister. To my surprise, there was not a speck of dust, despite how I assumed there would be. After our father’s death, it felt like our entire world stopped, and for some reason, in my mind nothing was done in the span of a year. Almost as if everything had slowed to a complete and utter stop, but of course that wasn't true.
As we walked, I once again kept my gaze on the floor, unable to look up at the different paintings and portraits that adorned the walls of the hallway.
my heart was heavy in my chest, and for a moment I almost didn’t think I could do this. I wanted to spend time with my brothers, of course, but how was I supposed to? It was awkward around them, it was tense.
We basked in a silence that made me want to turn around and run back to my room, to hide away from this strange feeling. As I followed Achlys down the stairs, I was reminded of the many times we’d barreled down those very stairs, chasing each other through the palace. Running from our cackling baby brother as he tried to tag us. I missed those times.
I missed being a child, as if I wasn’t still one. Barely fifteen. I’d grown so much since then, hadn’t I?
When I would look in the mirror, I no longer saw that youthful face staring back at me. With bright, intelligent eyes and a grin on his face, the slightest smile lines on his cheeks– no. I saw an exhausted husk of what I had been, I saw a boy who desperately needed the guidance of his father, and the gentle, warm embrace of his mother.
Once I snapped out of my thoughts, we were standing in the dining room. Two maids hurrying away to do– something. I didn't remember following my brother into the dining room, but apparently I did, and the two were already taking their seats.
I watched Tommy climb into the oversized seat, and Achlys sat himself down in his usual spot. But I hesitated, not knowing where I should sit. My old seat? Or where our father used to sit? Where the king was supposed to be seated– I am king, aren’t I? Did I have to sit there, too?
Something about it felt wrong. I felt like a child again, climbing up into our father's gilded throne and wondering if I’d ever be big enough to fill the space. wondering how I was ever meant to sit there when I could barely hoist myself up into the cushioned seat. but, it wasn't like I ever expected to be king. or wanted to, for that matter, I always assumed it would be Achlys. My talented, skillful older brother. He'd take care of Tommy and I, and let us eat sweets all day, and never have bedtimes. because we were children, and children shouldn't worry about grief, or war.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at the room, at the beautifully carved table, with its polished wood, or the paintings and the vases, the tapestries that decorated the walls. It hurt too badly. It left an ache in my chest. My gaze was pinned to my hands resting in my lap. Mother’s ghost haunted the halls, I see her face in reflections of me, I hear her saccharine voice in the winds that whistle through the long corridors of the keep. How I miss her. We always had a special bond, as the son that looked the most like her, as the twin that came out last, sickly and small, clinging to her warmth and attention.
Their mother was a lovely woman. She was kind, she was gentle, and she loved us with all of her heart. She was everything anyone could ask for in a mother. She loved to paint, and from what I remembered she had quite the sense of humor. Through my life I am told that I take after her in almost every aspect, the same chocolate brown eyes– if you ignored the fact that I have a birthmark that makes one of my eyes somewhat lighter than the other– the same dark hair and pale complexion, the same smile, and the same love for the arts.
Mother got me a guitar for my tenth birthday, though she hadn’t lived to see me play it. She died when Achlys and I were only eight, and when Tommy was one.
Memories welled inside of me, and I found myself thinking, reminiscing really. Back to the times when we were all together, mother, father, Tommy, and Achlys. In the short time span after the youngest was born, before mother fell sick, there was one particular time I could remember as if it was yesterday. We had taken our lunch out to the garden to have some sort of picnic. After eating, I had taken to distracting Tommy so that our parents could have a break, I remembered him being a very rambunctious child. Achlys was sitting with mother, nestled into her side, she had an arm wrapped around him and a gentle hand in his hibiscus pink hair. She always talked about how much she loved his hair, and that was really the only reason why Achlys kept it long, when she was away he sometimes complained about it getting in his way.
That was the day I had made up a game with Tommy, he was the king of an opposing kingdom, and we drew out pretend battle plans in the dirt with sticks.
I engrave it in my memory, as the carvings in the polished wood table, the shade of the willow tree in the garden, the cool earth dampening the knee of my trousers, my mothers laugh ringing through the sweet air. It was the last time we had spent together as a family.
I would’ve gotten lost in my thoughts, had I not felt my brother’s gaze on me, picking apart my expressions and my body language. I glanced up, meeting his gaze, I almost missed what he said.
“It's very strange, being in here again, together. Isn't it?” I noted the soft look to his crimson eyes, and the smile curving his lips slightly. I breathe a short sigh, nodding. “Mmh. yes, very.” there was an awkwardness to the way I reply, I cringe inwardly at it.
My brother nods, and I look away quickly, putting on a smile and trying to make more conversation.
“..anyways, Achlys, you haven’t told us what you’ve been up to lately. Let me guess, sparring with Tommy, training.. More training. That is all you do right?” It was meant to be a joke, brotherly banter that had once filled their conversations with laughter, but considering how my brother loved having a sword in his hands, but the look he gave me said he had taken it otherwise. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, looking away and praying that he would not be angry.
I glance towards Tommy, he is looking at the decorations in the room, assumingly trying to look anywhere but at us. “Ahem. I don’t suppose you do anything better, Judas. Every time I speak to you, you are sitting at your desk reading. No offense, but I don’t see how that could be any more productive than me just.. Sparring.” plates are set in front of us, but I do not look at them, my gaze locked on my brother. If I stared hard enough, I could see the way that his brows twitched and furrowed slightly when he was angry. To their left. Tommy was still surprisingly silent, when I look I see the sheepish expression on his face. We are upsetting him with our stupid argument.
I try to summon up some sort of gentleness in my voice. Not wanting to be weak or a coward, but not wanting to be insulting either.
“Achlys, maybe you only see me sitting at my desk because you do not bother to come speak to me at any other time of day. I sit through hours of court, listening to the problems of lords, I am surrounded by a gaggle of advisors and maesters throughout my entire day. Forgive me for trying to find some solitude in my chambers.” I pause, and the room is silent, my brother’s gaze piercing through me, warning me that I should watch what I say next. A wyrm of anger writhes in my belly, eating at more and more of my patience the longer the tension festers in the air. “As your king, I will not allow you to speak to me this way. If you have any other concerns about the way I rule my kingdom, come to court for once, take it up with me there. I will not have you continue to undermine the work that I do, especially not in front of..” I trail off, giving a pointed glance at our younger brother.
Again, silence. Until my brother stood up and slammed his hands on the table, nearly upsetting some of the dishes. “I undermine you??” he exclaims, clearly outraged. My brother scoffs, I can see how he struggles to not roll his eyes. “You know what? You are such a hypocrite. How can you sit there and say this when you clearly do not notice ninety percent of the work I do for the realm? Who do you think is overseeing your troops, your commanders?” Achlys snaps, his eyes blazing with fury. I cannot remember a time he was ever this upset with me.
“Not to mention, time and time again I come to you offering my assistance, because I know how hard it can be to do all of this alone. But time and time again you turn me away, because you’re too damn prideful to accept my help.” he pauses, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Look, I do not know why Father chose you to be king, but he chose you. So stop your bitching, and step up, like a real king would.”
So that was how it was. I am not a real king.
I did not say anything, sitting there, not knowing what to do as I listened to Achlys go off on a tangent, I stared up at my brother as I did so, my jaw set. Once upon a time I looked up to Achlys, I wanted to be as cool, and as skilled as my twin was.
But now, sitting at that table, I could only imagine how good it would feel to tackle him to the ground and beat him till he was black and blue. I could imagine myself rising out of my seat, my hands finding themselves wrapped around my brother’s throat, squeezing, and the look of terror on my brother’s face. I wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t.
“Prideful.” I grit my teeth, speaking up finally after a long moment of silence between us. “I’m too prideful to ask for help?? Well, Achlys I am so sorry. I am sorry that my entire life I have lived in your shadow.” I say, sarcasm dripping like venom from my words, I am glaring daggers at my brother. “I am so sorry that I grew up doing anything I could think of to make Father even look at me.” I spat, tears threatening to well up in my eyes.
“I am so sorry that I wasn’t allowed to ask for help, if I didn’t do it myself then it didn’t count. If I didn’t do it myself then I wasn't good enough to do it at all!” I stood up from my chair, shoving it back into place against the table with more force than I had meant to, a glass spilling dark wine across the tablecloth, spreading like blood.
I walk around the table, crossing the room in a few strides and stopping in front of my older brother, my twin.
“You just see me as some selfish little prick who does nothing but bitch and whine, you think i'm not a real king? That I'm being unproductive? Then become king. I’m tired of trying to get people to notice me and what I'm doing, because it obviously doesn’t matter if you continue to see me that way.” I was more hurt than I was angry. I did not have the energy to keep going like this. I took Achlys’ silence as a chance to leave, turning on my heel and starting out of the room. I assumed that he was stunned into silence, but after a moment I was proven wrong by the sound of footsteps following me, and suddenly the other was speaking up again.
I wished that he would stop, that he would give it up and let me leave, I wanted to curl up in bed and never come back out, especially if this is what would happen if I came out again. “When are you going to realize that you can’t run away from all of your problems, Judas?” I stopped in my tracks, my hands tightening into fists at my sides, my heart was pounding in my chest. “They will follow you, haunt you everywhere you go. That's the way life is, and yes, times get tough, but you don’t see anyone else complaining. But, maybe father was right to not favor you, maybe he was right to see you as a failure. Maybe he was right about a lot of things.” Achlys says behind me, glaring through my back. “But he must’ve been out of his god damned mind, if he really chose you to be the king of this realm.”
As the word’s left my brother’s mouth, I could've sworn, it felt as if someone wrenched my heart out of my chest. I clenched my jaw and whipped around, striking him. The back of my hand connects with the side of Achlys’ face, and the sound echoed in the room. I hear a gasp, and a choked up sob, before someone ran out of the room. Their footsteps echoing down the hallways. Hot tears slip down my cheeks, my throat closing up, when had I even started to cry?
“You will never speak to me that way again.” I snarl, gripping the collar of his shirt. Doing everything in my power to refrain from breaking his nose right then and there. “You are just like him, and I hate you for that.” my voice wavered ever so slightly as I looked up into my brother’s crimson eyes. Before I let go and stepped back, wiping furiously at my tears.
“I am your king, and I expect you to treat me as such. You– you are merely a member of my court, a position easily replaceable.” I steeled my gaze, setting my jaw before I continued. “You are in my shadow, that is where you will always be.” I paused to let the words sink in, exhaling through my nostrils. “You will take a seat, finish your breakfast, and not bother me for the rest of the day. If you try to enter my quarters, you will be turned away. I do not want to see your face again.” With that, I turned around and left the dining room. my heart aching in my chest. If Achlys said anything else, I did not hear it. I did not want to hear it, or see him. I never wanted to speak to my brother ever again. Why did he think he had the right to say that to me? After I tried to explain my problems and how I felt, I was berated and made out to be the bad guy. I was whining and bitching and never doing my job, and he did so much while I did nothing, and father was right about me being a failure.
And it hurt so badly because I knew it was true.
I was not fit to rule, it was a mistake to even consider me to be king. It should’ve been my brother. It always should’ve been Achlys. I didn’t deserve it, I was just some spoiled, bratty child who deserved nothing that I had. I am selfish, and stubborn. I am a terrible king and anyone would do a better job. The corridor seemed to stretch ahead of me, it felt like an eternity before I made it to my bedroom door. Fumbling with the knob, flinging the door open and stumbling into the room. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, pounding against my ribs, it hurt.
I slammed the door shut behind myself, locking it behind me and collapsing against it, sliding down to the floor to sit. I needed to calm down. I needed to breathe, my lungs burned, tears welling up in my eyes and cascading down my cheeks. It was raining outside, I did not remember when it had started raining, but I could see the raindrops on my window, a torrent of water falling from the sky. The heavens crying alongside me. I screwed my eyes shut and let my head fall back against the door, finally inhaling a gasping breath. Trying to even out my breathing, tears continuing to fall as I tried to focus on the sound of the rain hitting the windowsill, the distant thunder. I am okay. I can breathe, I am going to be fine.
I heave a shaky breath, before breaking into ragged sobs.