He groaned at what that voice had to say, though. Eyelids staggered open, left at half-fallen with a look of annoyance clearly painted across his face. Those familiar light blue hues hid yet again as he huffed with exasperation, hands clenched onto the dusty black fabric. He eventually rolled off of the plush mattress, though. Once he stood upright, he settled into usual habit: feet danced and glided across the floor with just the lightest of taps as he span about in childish attempt to keep himself awake.
As he never slept, or so it never felt like he did. Day in, day out, important meetings and training and lectures and meals of grandeur… Nothing really helped qualm the fact his parents were now deceased, and he, the boy heir, had ascended to proper royal status probably too early. He’d not even had his own coming of age ceremony, and yet, he was leading a kingdom… and without even being allowed the proper amount of time to grieve. Visions of dancing knives glimmered in his head, soaked red with blood that coursed, too, within his veins.
How tragic, they all said. What a travesty, they mourned.
As the shirt slid over bare shoulders, the regal child found himself with a glare. His hands tugged at the tunic to straighten it out with an excess of force, though otherwise he seemed too in control. For an untamed child, he was too mature when it came to matters of his own emotions. He’d been told too often to not allow his feelings to appear on his sleeve for others to take advantage of, but how was he to know what that meant? Ah, for thou means not to make myself vulnerable.
Dressed in casual bearings, Ace marched himself back out from behind the screen with that too serious expression still laid upon his face. He seemed not to notice; his attention more towards the pounding drums that came along with ever repetitive “You should improve on…“ statement that he’d received in his lifetime. Sixteen years of age and it seemed the only thing he’d ever accomplished was mediocrity. He supposed by noble pursuits, he was not the ideal son.
That was because they had an ideal daughter instead.
Platters of food sat before them, too much for two children, even if one was still a growing boy. The arrangements of meats and various sides, vegetables, desserts, the staples of royal living, hardly made his appetite appear with joy as much as it did make him want to groan with unease. It was a splendid display… of waste. So often did he want to just send the bulk of it down to the Lower Quarter, where at least such spoils would be accepted with glee.
The child sat at the end of the table, at the seat designated as his own by his sister and once again, felt the exhaustion of his attempts attack his small body. With a bored expression, he examined the feast yet again. His fingers, not even far from himself, pointed at various platters as he attempted to decide for himself what he’d eat that day. Decisions were easier than he made them appear to be, though.
The chilled silver slid into his hands with some stumbling struggle to maintain balance with the weight. His hands selected only what he wanted, did not allow for excess, and set the platters back down with no show of glee. He was simply bored of this life, tired of it. It could have been worse, much worse, he knew, but was to be raised in a household where the greatest strife was in who was coming to dinner unannounced such a wonderful existence? He supposed it was the coveted dream of many. He had little room to complain.
“Deals are deals, dear sister. Business is never about being kind.” Ace continued the earlier conversation while he waited for her to line her plate just as he had done his, an expectant gaze for rebuttal on her features. It was too strange to look upon another and simply see yourself, he had commonly thought, and when they were younger, had even admitted. To be a twin was interesting. One saw what they could be, what they could like, how they could appear. To be a twin was to life in a world with a mirror of possibilities.
“Still, I suppose I should rejoice. I got a better deal than I hoped for thanks to that young girl’s impudence…“ He mumbled, eyes just a narrow silver as he thought back over the meeting that had just ended. Palm cupped the golden goblet but did not move for a moment, an indication of restless thought, before he nodded with a slight smile. To be married is to be trapped. To have children is to produce a weak link.
“And I get to eat without having to put on a farce. Seems like a good day.” Finally, the water hit his lips as he lifted the goblet up, calm as he ever was. For this meal, there was no Ace and Nerys, no king and adviser, nor royal children. They were simply going to be siblings for a bit.
Something too often denied.
With her mask off it soon became uncomfortable to continue wearing her various layers of clothing and shed the regal jacket she was wearing, draping it carefully over the cloak as her brother changed. Finally she was left only in the tunic she had put on underneath all of the clothing, and absently she rubbed her fingers against where the bindings of her chest stopped, feeling the faint ache at the fabric cutting into her skin. Uncomfortable as it was she made no movements to take the binding off, instead sitting down carefully in one of the seats at the table, leaving the other for the young king.
Perhaps she really should have allowed her brother to rest just a little bit longer, as she knew that he did not have a regular sleeping schedule. Between all of his responsibilities and the things that he had to master in order to be what was considered a proper king and adding into the fact that he had never had a regular pattern for sleeping, she often imagined that he almost never slept at night, even when he did retire to his room. When they were younger, when he was a prince and she was nobody, he truly had a penchant for falling asleep at the most random of times in the most ridiculous of places.
Lately it must have been hard for him to find the time to sleep, perhaps even harder than it was for her to find the space and time to be able to sit and think, to sketch with any writing utensil and a small stack of parchment that was in her room, lying in wait. No longer was there any time for either of them, responsibilities and life getting in the way of even the mere idea of relaxation, of proper rest and proper time to themselves.
But in the end eating was as important as sleep in many ways, and she would have preferred that her brother dine before falling into any sort of slumber that was bound to be interrupted soon enough by something else that would call for his attention. And that was why she felt pleased as he stepped out from behind the screen and sat down at the table, though she still felt worried over the serious expression on his face. Not that that was necessarily odd or out of place—Ace always seemed to be serious, lest he be making a jest, whether it be at someone else’s expense or not. Just as she rarely found the will in herself to smile he did not, not when he was thinking so deeply.
Truly there was far too much food at this table for either of them, sixteen year olds may still yet be growing but they had never eaten too much. Especially she, as more often than not she did not find herself hungry for food, and generally only ate when it was absolutely necessary. Usually she would bow out of dinner, both to get away from the court and to avoid the stares as she ate barely anything, but to dine alone with her brother was a rare thing indeed.
An impossible prospect for nearly their entire life.
Such was simply a fact of how they lived their lives. Together but apart, because while Ace was the person closest to her and the only person in the universe that she would swear unfailing loyalty to, there had been an impossible distance between them during their childhoods. And in many ways, while that distance had closed since the untimely passing of their parents, it still existed no matter what.
In the end, it may always exist, at least for as long as she was Nerys. With a mask on her face it was not possible for her to bare her face to her brother, to anyone, not truly. Shortened hair made them practical mirror images of each other, no physical differentiations, and she could not fully be herself as she was, could not express her fears and doubts and hopes and truest, deepest desires.
After her king had chosen his food she carefully picked out what she herself wanted to eat, though really there wasn’t much. Just barely enough to appear as if it filled the plate that was in front of her, but that was more than enough for her. Cutting carefully into the meat on her plate she glanced at her brother when began to speak again and she chewed slowly. It was true no matter what she may have wanted to say, because while people may respond best to love and gentleness it was all too easy to be taken advantage of, to be given the short end of the bargain.
”All the same, perhaps your wording could have been better.
—Though that girl was a horror.”
While neither of them could really picture Ace getting married—to anyone, anyone at all—the idea of him getting married to that girl was laughable. With her lack of manners he probably would have had no patience in her anyways, and she had clearly been aiming simply for the power that the throne would afford her, something that made a frown appear on Naminé’s face. Still she could remember her own bodily reaction at the young lady’s words, and while some could say it was not her fault—raised that way, made to act in that manner, forced to want the things she did—there was always some choice in the matter. Humans had freedom to choose their own path… they need but desire to go after and capture it.
Then again, it wasn’t like she could really say that or advocate it. Their lives, her brother’s and her own, were written before they had even began. Carved into stone and set in place, never to be changed or differed even slightly, because destiny was immovable according to the elders, because he was born to be king and she was born to be in the shadows.
”I suppose the day is decent,” she allowed, though truly she was rather happy to be sitting there with him. Quietly she took another bite of food, glancing at the young man whose face was identical to hers, inclining her head towards him before swallowing and smiling slightly. There really was no use, she had never hid a thing from him, ”Though I am happy to be dining with you alone.”
Away from the prying eyes of the court, it was an illusion of freedom.
