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"You seem distracted," Tserriednich said simply, immediately catching the attention of his younger brother, who was slumped in his chair.
The young man sat up abruptly, so quickly that Tserriednich was certain he heard a crack in his spine, and looked a little sheepish, his cheeks reddening. Halkenburg cleared his throat, trying to adopt a more dignified posture that did not match the blush that was now spreading lower down his neck, disappearing under the slightly too tight collar of his shirt.
"I'm sorry, brother."
"Tell me what's on your mind," Tserriednich encouraged him, his voice less harsh. He had to remember not to be too abrupt with his younger brother, who cringed whenever he raised his voice.
"I'm not sure you'll be interested..." Halkenburg murmured.
A frown. Halkenburg straightened up again, to the point of looking ridiculous. His elder was pleased to know that they were both alone, in an isolated residence in the province of Psurria, with a breathtaking view of the mountains and forests, a tradition that had developed over the years. It was quite cool within the off-white walls, but that did not stop Halkenburg from sweating profusely.
"I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to be insolent. It's just that these matters are beneath you. A mere trifle between students, that's all."
"Go on."
"Well..." Halkenburg took a deep breath. "Not long ago, a young woman, a very charming one, suddenly sought... to form a friendship with me."
"A friendship, you say..." Tserriednich wanted to laugh, but held back, not out of any respect for his brother, but rather out of a particular desire to see if Halkenburg would fall headfirst into this kind of trap. "And so?"
"Well, we became friends."
"But what else?"
Halkenburg blushed even more. Tserriednich choked on his drink, but managed to keep his composure, narrowing his eyes. Lord, how could this pathetic wreck be his brother?
"Do you like her? Do you want to kiss her?"
"No!" the young man protested quickly before clearing his throat again, slumping back in his seat under his elder's gaze. "No, not at all..."
"No, you don't like her, or no, you don't want to kiss her?"
"I don't want to kiss her..." Halkenburg grumbled, shrinking even further into his seat. "I don't know how to do it anyway."
"Would you do it if you knew how to?"
"No!"
It wasn't a lie, and yet Tserriednich didn't feel reassured. The older his brother got, the less he was able to read him as he had been able to before. Halkenburg had never struck him as the kind of young man who would get involved in romantic entanglements like other students his age. Although he lacked refinement, the young man had all the intellect of a prince, despite a certain naivety stemming from a surreal ideal of peace and harmony, a visceral need for human connection that Tserriednich would probably never experience. Not that the Fourth Prince did not understand the need to surround oneself with others—he himself had built up an impressive network of what he considered to be friends, if his definition was correct, and he was convinced that it was—but he felt that Halkenburg felt this need excessively, and it was never good for a political figure to rely entirely on those around him. Tserriednich thought, with disdain that no doubt showed on his face, of the strange relationship between his elder brother Benjamin and his right-hand man Balsamilco. If those two ended up having an erotic connection, Tserriednich would not be surprised.
"What's the problem, then?" asked the Fourth Prince, frustration and bitterness tinging his words.
"I don't know how to tell her that I don't love her because I love someone else."
Tserriednich couldn't claim to have seen it coming, because he was completely taken aback, his eyebrows rising sharply before he regained control of his expression. "Just tell her that you don't love her because you love someone else. Don't give her a name to avoid any possible sabotage, but who is this person?"
"Um, well, I'm not sure I can..."
"You can," interrupted Tserriednich, losing patience.
"No, sorry, I didn't express myself clearly. I don't want to talk about it."
His younger brother's gaze had become so stern that Tserriednich felt it would be wiser, in order to maintain this relationship in the long term, and especially when the time came for the Succession War, to remain silent.
"It's a man you love, isn't it?"
Tserriednich was impressed by Halkenburg's calmness—though it was relative—which did not falter when the question was asked. However, colour quickly rose to his face, and his grip on his glass tightened for a brief moment. He was a quick learner.
"What makes you say that?" Halkenburg asked, putting down his glass.
His hands must have been sweaty. Tserriednich made no move to check.
"It's merely a guess. Am I correct?"
Halkenburg looked away, his eyes lost in his glass, his eyebrows comically furrowed in that pensive, sometimes aggressive expression that had become characteristic of him over the years. Tserriednich could well boast that he was the only one entitled to his brother's few silly smiles. It was a sight, though he would never admit it, that made him smile too.
"Yes," Halkenburg admitted.
"You're not really going to tell me who, are you..."
"No," Halkenburg replied curtly, before his expression softened. "Sorry."
Tserriednich did not let his disgust at this misplaced pity show either, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. He would find out eventually anyway. But oh well. He already suspected it, but the idea seemed ridiculous to him.
"Let's go for a walk," he suggested, or rather ordered, as he stood up, drawing the Ninth Prince's gaze back to him. The prince nodded slowly.
"Yes, of course."
The mountains were not completely covered in snow at this time of year, leaving a landscape of greenery stretching as far as the eye could see, except for a few places where a stream—which Tserriednich mentally named as soon as his gaze fell upon it—cut through the green with a blue vein. Because of Halkenburg's presence, it had been a while since the elder had been able to allow himself a little fun, and yet it wasn't as if there was a shortage of pretty women in the area. God knew it was easy to lure them in with the promise of meeting a prince and a few well-placed smiles, which had become second nature to Tserriednich.
He was itching to do so.
He didn't let it show, lit a second cigarette, and continued to admire the landscape. Halkenburg, at his side, was silent, far too silent, a disciplined silence that hid some kind of reflection, certainly not intellectual, or he would have shared it with his brother. No, the Ninth Prince was replaying the earlier conversation, weighing the pros and cons of telling his elder brother about this “person” who was the object of his attention, becoming afraid, a stench emanating from him, unworthy of his status, his gender, everything he was. Tserriednich did his best not to wrinkle his nose, not to recoil from this thing that, at times, did not deserve to be his brother.
"I've loved this person for... far too long."
Tserriednich turned his eyes to Halkenburg, who was standing against the railing of the spacious balcony that offered them such a view, his knuckles white from gripping the polished metal. The younger man's face showed the confusion of a young teenager discovering what a woman is, no longer seeing them as repulsive beings—even though they were.
"And I am ashamed of it, I assure you," Halkenburg continued, trying to harden his features, without much success. On the contrary, he only appeared weaker and more vulnerable, with this forced authority on his face, which still needed a little work and a lot of practice. "But it's much stronger than me. I... have known this person for a long time. I have been watching her for a long time. I feel pathetic because of this thing growing inside me... and yet, it's not as if I can control these feelings, is it?"
Tserriednich said nothing. They were there.
"In fact, I think it's been far too long. That I should move on. That I should, perhaps, distract myself with this young woman, in fact. I can't do it, brother, I just can't. This person... Every time I see them..."
Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Halkenburg leaned slightly towards his brother.
His idea didn't seem so ridiculous now.
Tserriednich took it upon himself to talk to his brother about women, teaching him the art of animal copulation, concubines, married women, and the obligations that rested upon him. And then, when Halkenburg asked him questions about the best policy for governing the country, for example, his older brother refrained from laughing in his face and pointing out that there was no chance he would ever ascend to the throne, opting instead for the excuse that he was a little too young for such conversations, that political affairs were of no concern to him at this stage.
"So I'll have to get married..."
"And have lots of children. You're free not to have eight wives, though, that's just our father's lucky number, because that was his place in the line of succession when he was Prince."
"I can't see myself having nine wives... And have even more children..." Halkenburg muttered, almost turning pale at the thought of having to raise nearly a dozen.
"Oh, you won't have much to do. You'll only need to remember their names." Tserriednich replied, struggling this time to hide the bitterness that tinged his words.
Tserriednich did not hate the King, but he resented him for many things. First and foremost, his childhood, which was almost non-existent, as the son—or was he really?—of the first Queen Unma. Although fourth in line to the throne, he enjoyed the kind of privilege that only that twat Benjamin could boast of, but it was far from the comfort and support that the child would have needed. Perhaps he would have been different if he had been raised in a loving home, with parents who knew more about him than just his name. As soon as he was introduced to the tradition of Carne Levare, something changed in him. He had begun to rot from the inside, no doubt, but it wasn't something he was trying to avoid. Was embracing his dark side, until it engulfed everything else, really such a bad thing?
Seeing his younger brother like that, with that still naively optimistic gleam in his eye, he told himself it wasn't. Because of what had perhaps ruined what he could have been, he had become something worse, something that nothing could ever shake. If he became King, Halkenburg would lose himself in his kindness, which would lead to his death, buried by a coup or a revolution that would only take advantage of his shortcomings. Halkenburg would not be a good King, or at least he would not remain one for long. It was only a matter of time before he devoted himself too much to his cause until it caused him to lose everything.
And, although he would rather die than admit it, Tserriednich found that his brother was wasting his potential in an almost disappointing way.
"What if I marry a man?" asked Halkenburg.
"You cannot," replied Tserriednich simply. "Unless, of course, you want to lose all credibility with your allies. Ultimately, the decision is yours."
Halkenburg bit his lip and looked away. "But I love this person so much, my brother... I don't think..."
"You will learn that a member of royalty does not love, Halkenburg, he simply appreciates, if the situation suits him," interrupted Tserriednich. "Once you enter the political arena, even if lying repulses you, you must arm yourself with this weapon that most people use. Being dripping with hypocrisy is a despicable act, but once exposed to the eyes of the crowds and your competitors, you have no choice but to submit to it."
Halkenburg stepped forward towards his brother, standing face to face with his seated elder. "Do you love me, my brother?"
Tserriednich looked up curiously at the young man, clenching his jaw at the strange warmth in Halkenburg's eyes, which made him feel as if thousands of worms were burrowing through his pores and sliding under his skin, and he stood up as well. It was better this way, to stand above his brother, this child who was becoming a man, this puppy who was baring his teeth. Tserriednich's silhouette cast a shadow over Halkenburg's face, his gaze suddenly less gentle when it did not reflect the few rays of the setting sun, revealing a determination that was so personal to him. So distinctive.
Tserriednich raised his hand, and Halkenburg recoiled slightly, no doubt afraid of violence—not that he had ever been struck by his brother—before shuddering when his elder's palm rested on his head. The younger brother closed his eyes for a moment, and the older one took the opportunity to observe his face with thoughtfulness. He would never understand.
"Of course I love you," Tserriednich finally replied, and even he wasn't sure if he was lying.