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Natalya didn’t expect to wake up. She didn’t expect to feel anything after that stupid truck hit her. But she was always lucky. When the little prince awoke, she was at the hospital, however long after the event, tubes in every part of her, surrounding her like a mess of snakes.
Her hair was flat, oily in some spots, curled in on itself just like her father’s and brother’s- something she tried desperately to avoid. That’s what happened when she couldn’t do a wash day. The IV proved to be very itchy, making her want to rip the whole thing out all together. Call it innate self preservation, or the fact she was in nearly a whole body cast, but the wires stayed in place, and so did all the bandages.
Natalya didn’t expect that if she woke up, her brother would be there. They hadn’t spoken in months, even before the accident. Even before she had found him dead on the bullet train. She didn’t expect anyone to be there, certainly not the one who had often times taken the brunt of her misdirected rage against her father. Still, there he was; sitting patiently, stupidly , just as he had done their entire childhood. Waiting for life to happen before him, unsure of how to react until it did.
“The uh…Doctors wanted me to sit in here with you. They weren’t sure you would wake up, so they thought hearing a familiar voice would help.” He explained, voice dryer than she remembered.
“Shit.” She laughed wryly. “Do they also know our history? If anything, they should’ve kept us separated.”
The girl didn’t have a reason for her immediate snippiness. Call it a force of habit or impulse control (or lack thereof), but there was no reason to start niceties now. That’s what she told herself when she heard her own sour voice. She was grateful he was here, grateful she wasn’t alone. It was just…difficult.
“I guess they don’t” He chuckled halfheartedly. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that I’m awake. How long has it been?”
“About three weeks, I was only released a little bit ago.”
“Are we the only ones left now?” She asked, softening. It was unintentional, unlike her to ask such a dumb question. She’d seen what had happened to her father, and of course, went to her mother’s funeral. But Percy really didn’t seem all too concerned about what was and wasn’t unlike her. Which, in some way, was comforting.
“Yeah. Not much you can do for a guy who blew his own brains out.” He sighed, settling into the chair. Did he know that was her doing? Should she say so?
“Did he already have a service?”
“You would want to go?” He asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“No,” she huffed, ever defensive over a simple question. “just curious is all.”
“I can’t believe you’re still after his approval… Maybe you need another hit to the head.” He chuckled, glancing away from the bed, away from her.
The Prince snickered, Percy may not be just like her, but at least he wasn’t afraid to dig at her. They weren’t mirror images, far from it, but rather a reflection of what the other might have been, given different circumstances. They ran with different crowds their entire lives. Percy probably didn’t even care. She always envied that.
“You were lucky, you know.” She eventually started, breaking the deadening silence. “He always loved you more, wanted you around.”
“Oh what a luxury to be next in line to defend myself against all the power hungry meatheads.”
He may have been younger, but he was granted every advantage that should’ve been her’s. Even now, Prince couldn’t help but resent him just a little bit. He didn’t understand how much power he had as the rightful heir to the White Death’s empire. Oblivious or unwilling to admit to the luck he had been born into. They both got good hands with fate, his were just better.
“You know what I mean.”
Again the silence fell between them. Neither really sure how to speak to the other, waiting for one step to send them into a stupid squabble again. They were siblings, of course, but barely knew each other, the rift between them feeling even greater now.
“Look, if it’s any consolation, he talked about you.”
“He did?”
“All the time. He was proud of you Natashka, even if he didn’t understand how to show it. In his own twisted way. He really, really loved you.”
Her lips pursed at the childhood nickname. It was one she hadn’t heard since she was back in her family home. Her father never called her that of course, too proud, but her mother, and apparently Percy, had remembered. Which is why it hurt even more to hear those words. It hurt to almost believe him. To hear the familiarity he so easily had with her, despite her incessant pushing away. Natalya knew her father, he couldn’t care less. Percy was kind enough to try to lie, but really, the idea was almost laughable. The White Death wasn’t ever talkative about his kids, let alone a daughter who had refused to adhere to his ideas of what a daughter should be. She was invisible to him. Even to his death, she remained invisible. Yet, her brother, still attempted to try to cheer her up. Despite it all. So in return, Natalya smiled.
“Thanks Percy.”