Growing sideways

some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood

Once more, he was in front of that damned door. He had an heated argument about it with Chaska not that long ago. As she had so casually stated that she would be shown around by that guard of his cousin. That did not at all sit well with him. He had no lost love for the man that pointed him the door the last time they spoke, or fought. But then again, why should he care who Chaska spend her apparently precious time with.

The sorcerer's hand hovered above the door handle for a while, thinking if he should really do this. He remembered vividly how he had felt about Myrddin when he saw him last, cowering in that bad, crying as he somehow was the victim of it all. Ezekiel could just not let those thoughts loose about his cousin. They had festered in his mind for so long now, that he could barely remember the time that they had been friends. But it was that childish, silver lining of love that he once held for the man. He had been the first to throw himself in the fray to protect his cousin, years and years ago. When he was but a boy and Kenai but a cub.

That tiny sliver pushed him over the edge to open the door. Ezekiel was no longer livid, seething with rage. He would never give in to fear or insecurities he felt. No, it was always just so much easier to be mad about it. To fight about it. To shield himself from everything bad that was bound to happen. He just couldn't see it that it probably made everything worse and worse. But it protected himself, and that was all that mattered.

So without a proper guard on the door, Ezekiel could walk in whenever he wanted. But once he was in the room, he had no idea what to do. He still thought Chaska maybe, maybe had a point, but he would never admit that. It was the same reason he walked into this room the first time: fix what was still possible. He had made himself really unpopular the last few days. Ezekiel looked over to the bed where his cousin was. ‘‘Hey,’’ he started awkwardly, keeping very close to the door, not entering the room any further. ‘‘May I?’’

NC

❝ no rain, no flowers ❞

He had asked Shy to show Chaska around town. The man wasn't too pleased by that request but had complied eventually. After they had shared a quick kiss, he signed to the other a quick love you before the other had left. The guard had made sure that everything was within reach for him, which was honestly the sweetest thing ever. He would mostly be sleeping anyway and he was sure that the man would be back in an hour or two, if not sooner. He had been so angry, but he also knew it would be good for him to be outside of the castle for once. He mostly spent his time with him in this room. Whenever he was awake, they would talk or do things to keep his mind busy. He missed the cuddles mostly, but he knew that the other viewed him as extremely fragile right now. Something that annoyed him, but he wouldn't push him to do things he didn't want to. Once he was better, they could make up for lost time. For as long they still had until he had to... He honestly didn't want to think about it. For now he was happy with him. And all he could do was spend as much time with him as he could. Because he knew more than anyone else that their days together like this, were numbered. It was his duty, after all.

He had taken a short nap, after which he woke up and pushed himself upwards to drink some of the medication. Soon after, he had already pulled in his sketch book. Flipping through the pages he found himself pausing at the many studies he had done of Shy over the past few days. Mostly of him sleeping in that damn chair. Oh by Lythrana he could sleep in his room, but the stubborn idiot didn't want to. He wouldn't even mind sharing his bed... But no. A smile curled on his lips as his fingers traced the paper, following some of the lines. Some were rougher while other sketches caught more details of the man. Every now and then a smaller drawing was woven in, such as a bird that he had seen outside his window or some of the flowers that people had brought in while wishing him well. He flipped another page, chuckling as he saw more drawings of the other of just everyday things they did now. Things he had captured in his mind and put down on paper. Such as his gentle smile whenever their eyes locked. Or the way he did his work in the room. The glimpses that the other sometimes threw at him. He had put them all down on paper. He wouldn't admit it, but he knew it was true. The other had truly captured him... And he couldn't get his mind off him. He adored every little piece and imperfection of him. He was the reason he could still smile despite it all. By the gods, how he loved this man.

He had come to a half empty page where he had been sketching more birds. He tilted his head, grabbing his pencil and pushing the book more upwards with his free hand. As the pencil ran over the paper and strokes were made, the world seemed to melt away. He was at peace whenever he was doing such things. And well yea... It wasn't so strange either. If it was up to him, he would have been an artist. Someone that created art and could show the people his emotions through his pieces. Not only in drawings or paintings, but also dance. He slowed down his pace as he smudged out some parts with his thumb, tilting his head the other way as to get a better view of the piece. Finishing up the sketch of the birds caught between flowers... It wasn't half bad... But some things did annoy him somewhat. As he narrowed his eyes and pushed the end of the pencil against his chin, he slowly slipped in deeper thought... What could it be?

The sound of the door opening, grabbed his attention. He lifted his gaze as a smile curled on his lips, already lifting his hand somewhat in a manner of greeting. Was Shy back already? Why, that was fas- But as soon as he saw another appear his excited smile faded slowly. He blinked somewhat in surprise as he looked over the man that was no stepping inside the room. Why... he knew this could have been a possibility because he had asked her for it. Yet, he was still caught off guard by actually seeing him. The tightness in his chest was immediately noticed by him. He was really... Scared of him. Even though he didn't want to be. HIs body responded on its own, putting his survival first before everything else. Yet, he tried to fight it. Closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to gather himself. Deep breathes. He was fine. He was fine. Deep... Breathes. He was perfectly safe. For one, the other didn't have his staff with him. So that meant he couldn't... Well... It wasn't because he didn't trust him- It was just that he needed concrete evidence. For the incident had been ingrained in his mind, forcing nightmares onto him every single night. He could still recall it so vividly, yet it seemed like it was scrambled all over the place... He hated it.

He heard the other speak, which seemed like his queue to look back op to him. Slowly, a gentle smile came on his face. Not forced, but somewhat genuine. He was honestly happy he came because he didn't think he would. It brought him some relief... Because it meant that he could try and talk with him. Or maybe just... Offer his apologies... He wasn't too sure what he really wanted, but he did know that he had wanted to see the other ever since. Despite the fear that kept lingering in every fiber of his being. By the Gods, it wasn't easy. But when would anything in his life ever be? Myrddin nodded at the other, waving at him as a way to greet him. The man asked for permission and the blond man nodded slowly, averting his eyes from the other as he gestured at a chair next to him. A way to tell him to sit down. It would be better, would it not? Maybe... He wasn't too sure about it. It was all so difficult and complex... How would they ever get this started?

Myrddin looked back at his sketches, his pencil slowly finishing up the last few lines he still wanted to add. It was something to keep his mind occupied, something to help him stay in this moment. He didn't want to lose himself again, like he had done that day. It wouldn't be useful if he panicked. And besides, there was no-one that could really help him if he did. If Shy were to find him in such state, he was sure to be angry at either him or Ezekiel... Or both. He honestly wasn't quite sure. His grey eyes slowly went back up from the book as he put the pencil down. He took a deep breath, lifting his hands so that he could start to sign. 'How are you doing?'

some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood

It was clear that he was not what Myrddin had expected. Why should he? He was obviously waiting for some friendlier face, as he saw the joy melting away on his face. It changed in something, almost uncanny. Like he was truly scared of him. Ezekiel lingered by the door a while longer, debating if he should just turn around again. He saw him, he was fine, and that's that. But this was one confrontation he couldn't run away from forever, how much he would have liked it. In the back of his mind it almost felt like they already knew how this would go. Because after all, they had grown up so close together. There was probably nobody else in the world that knew him like Myr did. Maybe that was why it hurt so damn bad when things went south. Because that feeling of betrayal and abandonment never wore out.

The sorcerer closed the door behind him and stepped closed once Myr had found the nerve to gesture him closer. So he did. Ezekiel grabbed the chair by the backrest and pulled it a bit further away from the bed, turned it slightly so he could face him before he took place. The silver haired man leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest, slightly tapping with his fingers on his upper arm to try to calm his nerves. Because, now what? He really had to begin to start to think these things through. He just waited on Myr to say something, because his cousin was still caught up in his sketchbook. He was probably bored out of his mind already, having to stay put in one place. He could barely keep still when his legs did work.

It took a while for his cousin to finally raise his hands. And when he did, Ezekiel scoffed and shook his head with a small, sarcastic laugh. ‘‘Well as good as you would imagine,’’ he said with a sarcastic undertone he started to adopt from Chaska. He looked down at his lap for a moment and gave him a small shrug. The tension on his jaw rose for a moment, thinking about everything that happened over and over again. But all he could say was. ‘‘It's like history repeating itself, isn't it?’’ He looked up at his cousin. ‘‘We've been here before. I don't know if you remember,’’ he continued quickly, thinking about the time they were young boys. Myr badly hurt and Ezekiel stubbornly sticking to his side, even though they had already cracks in their brotherly bond. Cracks that would never be fixed in the future. The sorcerer sighed and averted his gaze again. ‘‘But I do.’’

NC

❝ no rain, no flowers ❞

Ezekiel took the invitation to come in further, closing the door behind him and taking a seat beside the bed that had been his home for the past few days. He looked at the other for a moment as he observed how he moved himself. He looked fine now. Not as bad as the day where everything had escalated. Although still somewhat wounded, he couldn't see any noticeable wounds. Some bruises here and there... His hand seemed a bit on the rougher side. But he was fine. As his gaze went over the other as he was busy, he wondered if he had even taken the time to see a healer. Something told him he didn't. Well, maybe he did. He had seen him covered in blood. And no-one ever told him it was his blood. So Myrddin had always just assumed it was the others blood. Perhaps the reason why he had worried so much as well. His mind wandered back to the first moments after the accident, where he had experienced the effects of the trauma all in great detail. Yet, despite it all, his mind had settled on the well being of his brother, something that clearly wasn't appreciated by Shyam when he had asked about him. And no-one had dared to speak of the troublesome boy in this room. As if he was a forbidden word that couldn't be mentioned within these walls. Were they scared it would trigger him? Or had they lost all respect for the other? The blond man averted his eyes back to his book at that thought, his heart sinking in his chest. It saddened him to think about such things. It was upsetting to know he couldn't do anything about it. Not yet, at least. Not as long as he was bound to this bed.

He had decided to break the ice with a simple question. One that couldn't do much harm in his eyes. It was out of genuine concern as well. Because that was just how he was, even if he didn't show it. But ever since his second near death experience, he had gotten so much closer to the realization on how fleeting it all could be. He had seen himself let go little by little, still afraid of what that could mean for him and the people around him... But he had plenty of time now to explore such subjects... Since well... There wasn't much else to do here. He had blamed himself over and over for the incident, hearing those words his familiar had spoken and wanted to say over and over. He knew exactly what she had wanted to say to him, because she was him. They were one, she was his most inner thoughts. And that scared him. He wasn't a good person, after all. He had flaws as well, broken ugly pieces that no-one ever had to see. He felt ashamed he couldn't contain those thoughts to himself. As a child throwing around words to get a reaction out of the people around him.... He still had so much to learn.

When Ezekiel laughed, he turned his head towards him. Sarcasm clearly noted in the way his voice went through the room. His words, accompanied by the way he sat there.... Even a blind man could see what its true meaning was. Myrddin sighed, the corners of his mouth turning down. Right. Of course he was. What else had he expected? He most likely had already gotten a scolding of a lifetime- or maybe he hadn't. His mother wasn't in town right now. And that was... A good thing, for the both of them. Because he knew Aurelia wouldn't let this go by with just a warning. It was his goal to get back on his feet before she came back. Maybe then he could tell her that it had all been just a small accident. Nothing to worry about. A scuffle between mates where he had hurt his leg. Yea, that sounded like a solid plan. Take the blame on himself so that the peace could be kept. He liked that idea, a lot, because it avoided the confrontation he so hated. But there he was showing off many of his flaws again. Would he ever learn..?

The other had shrugged and Myr nodded slowly at that motion. He understood what he meant by that. Everything was messed up and broken. That was something they did see eye to eye to, even without using signs nor words. They just knew. How they could fix it, make it better, was another thing entirely. It was all so complex and deeply ingrained in their history. Little frustration had escalated in a huge bloodbath each and every time. Let this one be an actual physical one instead of verbal. Honestly, it felt like they were just running in circles sometimes. And Ezekiel confirmed his thoughts, as if he could read them. He blinked slowly as he looked back at him. They had been here before. An accident that he had caused to himself because he had pushed himself too far. Now, he had pushed someone else too far. And those actions had caused him to get back to where it all had escalated the first time. He had been so angry, so pissed off at the world. Everything and everyone had been wrong and he had felt as if every living thing had turned against him in that moment. Alone, as if no-one could understand what he was going through. And he still felt like that most of the time. Yet, not all the time. Because he had seen a familiar pattern resonate within someone close to him. Anger was a funny little thing, but it always showed its ugly face one way or another. Ezekiel wasn't great at hiding it. The other didn't want anyone near him, just like how he hadn't want anyone near him when he was a kid. Being bullied and pushed to a point where he had felt like he was such an outcast that he had turned a blind eye to the people that had tried to reach out. And now that he had managed to claw himself out of that dark part of his existence, he had left another behind. And he was part of the problem, was he not? He had taken the place of those bullies for his cousin. Where for him it had been all those children that couldn't leave him be, it had been the blond man who had turned his back to the other. All because he thought everyone to be his enemy. Well, his young self had gotten that wish for sure, but at what cost.

He nodded slowly after the other confirmed he still remembered. Those really weren't his proudest moments. He had been such a reckless thing back then. Letting those aggressive tendency fester over his mind as he had to remain with his thoughts. He had tried to run away, leave it all behind, only to be met with a greater punishment then the one he had made for himself. It had been a lesson, for sure, but one could debate if it was good one. His grey eyes slowly went over the other once more as he was lost in thought about those events. 'I wasn't very kind to you back then,' He slowly signed as his gaze went to the ground. He hadn't been nice to anyone, really. He had been such a nuisance to people all around the castle... Or the family. Oh how he compensated for the awful person he had been. And he knew it was still within him to be like that.... And he hated it, because he never wanted to hurt people the way he had done. The man moved his hands a bit, preparing himself to sign something, but stopped as he clenched his jaw a bit. No... he couldn't... Just say things like that now. 'But I was always glad when you came,' He had been, because company was better then being alone. And deep down he had always cared, despite it all. 'I'm glad you are here now, too,'

He- His eyes slowly trailed back to Ezekiel as he wasn't too sure what he should expect of the other now. Something told him it could be anger, frustration, hate. That it was easy for him to say that now, even after everything that had slipped his mind that day. In an instant his face shifted a bit, perhaps even a slight state of panic as he looked back at his hands. He tried to keep himself in check as that tightening feeling increased in his chest. No- No... He was fine. This was fine. There was nothing wrong with putting this up for the other. Yet, he couldn't help but feel his mind race. Maybe he had something wrong already and he- What if he... No he couldn't. It wouldn't be right, right? His eyes darted back to the other as he looked him over, not aware that he was perhaps panicking over nothing. 'I'm sorry,' He quickly signed to the other as a quick way to apologize. His hands had started to shake, yet he had tried to keep them as steady as possible. He placed one hand next to him so he could push himself more upwards, bowing his head as quickly as he could. The movement causing a jolt of pain to ripple through his body. Tears in his eyes he kept his head bowed down, clenching his jaw as to hold back a whimper of pain. 'I'm sorry,' he signed again. Perhaps he was indeed traumatized by everything that had happened. Something he wouldn't admit to himself. Or the people around him. Because it would mean weakness. And there was no room for such things. There was no time for such things. He had to fix what had been broken, not himself. He was already a lost cause anyway.

some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood

The way Myrddin was sitting in his bed, he didn't want to look at his cousin too much. The first time he came here, he was still brimming with anger. And when he saw him then, all he could think was that he was weak: a shell of a man. He was no leader or hero. No, he was just a boy, who bled when he was struck. And he was being terrible at handling it. But know the dust had settled a bit, Ezekiel could only feel remorse for his cousin. Because it was a miracle he even survived. What if Kenai had struck more true? Even a bit upwards. He could have gutted him easily, broken his neck if he wanted. So why didn't that happen? Was Myrddin lucky, or did the silver haired sorcerer still have more grip on his familiar then he thought. Because he didn't. He felt utterly powerless as the bear had emerged and attacked it's prey. And he had never felt stronger at the same time. It was a cruel, double edged sword. Myrddin should have never had to witness that.

However this time, Ezekiel could not bear to look at his cousin. He did not want to face what he had done. So Ezekiel kept his gaze averted most of the time, fiddling quietly with his hands, trying to act almost aloof, sitting with his arms crossed in front of his body, slightly slumped with his legs apart. But the words he spoke were true, because he did flash back to that time they really were boys. And Ezekiel still cared so much about- everything. A time where he tried so hard, but it was never enough. And when he stuck out his neck for his cousin, he blamed Myrddin over the years. Because it was due to him he had to use his familiar for violence, and after that, he was never the same. And he had blamed Myr for turning his back to him. And he had blamed him for everything that went wrong, because that was easy. But when he was hurt, he still came. Never in a thousand years would he think that some day, he would be the cause of him being in this bed. Because in his mind, he would always be better than that. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Ezekiel perked up when he saw Myrddin raise his hands. Even mute and stripped of his powers, they could still speak. Bless those little boys when they were kids and still naïeve. It was the smartest thing they had collaborated over the years. Myrddin told him that he wasn't kind to him then. Another shrug was followed by Ezekiel as he acknowledged those words. Still, no reason to maim his cousin because of some bad childhoods. His cousin continued and he told him he was glad then, and glad still. The sorcerer looked up to his cousin at those words in complete disbelief. He had seen the fear, he knew he was just- what was he trying? To fix this? He had done something unforgivable and Myrddin was just- accepting it?

It was funny how different the minds of the two boys worked. Ezekiel would have bristled with anger if the roles were reversed. He would shout, throw everything he could in his vicinity at the other's head. He would call him all the ungodliest names in the book and curse his cousin's past and future in the same sentence. But no, Myrddin was calm and forgiving, light where Ezekiel was dark, fear where he was anger, tolerant where he was jealous, love where he was hate. It wasn't always like this. So Ezekiel just stared, not knowing how to react to something so alien to him.

That wasn't everything. Myr continued and told him he was sorry. It was such an easy movement with his hands, and Ezekiel knew what he was saying before he was even done. How? How could he say he was sorry? By Lytrana, Ezekiel had prepared to defend himself, telling his cousin that he was provoked, that he tried to walk away from him, but he just didn't let him. Yes, he wanted to see these words, but he had expected to fight for them. To make him understand. Never had he thought Myr understood already. Because everybody blamed him. But he didn't feel the satisfaction as he had expected. No, he only felt more guilt. And when Myr tried to move up, visibily in pain, signing those same words again, it just, he couldn't bear to watch it.

‘‘Stop,’’ he said softly as Myr had his head bowed down. Ezekiel sat up a bit straighter as the thoughts raced through his mind as a raging storm. The sorcerer felt suddenly very small as he could not face his cousin's gaze. He bent forward, leaning his elbows on his knees as he folded his hands together, looking at the edge of the bed as he was struggling to find any words to follow up those. ‘‘I am ashamed of what I did,’’ he told his cousin after taking a deep breath. ‘‘But-’’ By Lythrana, no good apology was ever followed by a "but" ‘‘-you just can't understand what it's like. And I don't expect you.’’ Summoning came natural to him. This problem he had, it could not be solved by anyone. He was dangerous and he knew it. He would never summon again, because everywhere he went, he would hurt innocent people. ‘‘Don't make me do it again. Ever.’’

NC

❝ no rain, no flowers ❞

Every cell in his body was trembling out of pure fear for this man. Or, to put it down more properly, it wasn't a fear of him, but a fear of what he could do. What he was capable of. Myrddin knew this very well as his mind kept running over those events and he tried to push them back. Keeping his emotions in check in the process. Because someone like him shouldn't be scared. He shouldn't bow his head to emotions. Men like him should keep their head high and demand respect, keep all that fragility from ever reaching the surface. Men like him were supposed to be the feared ones. They were supposed to demand it from the people around them, see it in others eyes. But that's where he was different to everyone around him. The young heir was a very emotional person, carrying his heart on his sleeve and being genuine with himself as much as possible, despite his position. He had tried to cover it up as best as he could. But with situations like these it was hard. It was as covering up an awful, bloody accident. One way or another someone would find it, perhaps by mistake... Or on purpose. It would seem the other had done a bit of both, as it didn't take a genius to figure out what trauma did to a man. A reaction like that was only normal. The body was a simple thing, after all. Just wanting to survive. And out of experience, it just knew how much of a threat the other was. He would have to work on it, that much was for sure.

As he bowed his head to the other, apologizing, he held back his breath. Terrified that if he let go, his tears would come to. The words that he had signed to the other had been the things that were on his mind when the other had spoken. But now he felt like he was going to be punished all over again. For some reason his mind pushed him back to that moment, when claws were tearing through his flesh as if it were tissue paper... And his bones were breaking as if they were mere twigs. He could still recall the feeling of pain rushing through his body, it was as if the cruellest flames of hell had crawled up to the earth to punish him. And in many ways, he had been deserving of it. And he had told himself that it was all his own fault and this had been his reward for, well, everything. For every step he took was a misstep. And every word he made of note, were wrongful sayings. Myrddin wasn't a good person, he never had been. And he had always been convinced that he deserved the worst. But now that it had been a reality, he was convinced that even it had been rightfully so. Because the blonde man had never been in a great mindset when it came down to himself. And where he had barely started to build a little foundation in that fragile confidence of him, Ezekiel had torn it apart in mere seconds. Years of work, gone in an instance. But it was okay. He had to be. Because if he wasn't, he would have to face things he didn't want to. And even worse, the people around him would have to suffer. By the gods, anything but the people he loved...

And he was deserving of his punishment and in his brutal mind he was even deserving of more. He could carry it all on his shoulders, everything that the world could throw at him. He could take on the burden of expectation, of guilt, of pain, of perfection. He could carry it all. Because he had to. Just like his mother before him and her father before her had done. They had carried the burden of the world with them for what the universe had granted them. And perhaps he had it a bit harder than the ones before him. But that didn't excuse him for being such an awful person. To say those things, to think such... Horrible thoughts. The gods had been right taking his voice away from birth, for he truly didn't have anything good to share with the world. With such an ugly mind like his, perhaps it was for the better that he couldn't speak. And for the first few days after the accident, that had been lingering in his mind. Now finally showing its ugly little head again, he felt his breathing tremble once more. Out of fear and pure sadness. When would he have finally have paid his debt...? How much more did he have to give? Would it ever be enough?

Lost in his own sadness, his own panic and his own degraded mind, he tried to find stability. Stability to remain calm and not loose it completely. He kept on signing that one thing, on and on and on. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. But with every slow movement of his arm that forced another wave of pain up his body, he felt it loose his meaning... More and more. And he panicked, his breathing slightly trembling as he softly prayed to every god that would listen to him, to just give him a break. He needed breathing room. He needed a minute. Please. Just please. He was so sorry. And if he could, he would fall to his knees. Bowing to the other as he showed him the greatest apology of all; his fragility and honesty. But he couldn't. Limited to his broken body, he wasn't even able to show him the regret he felt so very deeply. And it pained him, almost made him choke up. But he fought it back. Knowing that his softness would never be appreciated within these walls. Not by his mother, not by his brother, not by anyone. Well. Not anyone. There was one person who would. But he would go to the ends of the earth to shelter that tenderness. He would fight every demon, as he had proven days before today. Shyam would tear Ezekiel apart if he saw them now.

Stop. Stop... What exactly? He froze, not because he wanted to, but because his instinct told him to. And he stared down at the bed below him, his forehead pressed against the sheets as he kept his head humbly bowed down. He held his breath for a moment, almost as if awaiting some sort of pain to follow. He hadn't even noticed how soft it had been spoken. All he could hear was that the other merely commanded him to stop. And his brain completely haywired on that word. Because... Did he have to stop apologizing.... Or did he have to stop being just- everything he was? He felt tears burn behind his eyes as he tried to keep himself together. He had told Chaska he would be fine. But now he wasn't so sure anymore. He wanted his guard next to him. He wanted to curl up against him and feel his arms around him. Safely sheltered from all this confusion and pain that kept on coming. Wave after wave after... Wave. Slowly, the man opened his mouth a bit, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. But he had told her he would be fine. And she had listened to him, helped him in that way too to get him here. If he let his fears win now, everything would be in vain once more. He couldn't be another disappointment to someone. He couldn't keep on breaking every time when his soul cracked to these kinds of pressure. He had to be strong. He had to hold on. If he didn't, it would have been better if he had died on those training grounds that day.

And then Ezekiel started to speak. Stating that he was ashamed of what had happened. Just ashamed. He wasn't saddened, nor fearful of the things he had done. He was just ashamed, most likely for the fact that he had been pushed out of place even though he had held on not to. He was ashamed because he had no control over something that came so effortlessly to so many others to the family. He was ashamed because now he had to come face to face with the things he hated about himself; and then with the person he most likely hated the most in the world. Myrddin bit his lip softly as he knew how much he must hate this. Not even that he had almost lost him, but that he had to... Still be here. It would have been better if he had died, didn't it...? His heart almost skipped a beat as he slowly looked up. There was no compassion in that body of him. There was no trace of sadness to be heard in the way he spoke. He was nothing more than anger and selfishness. As he went on to prove himself to be the stronger one once more, threatening him once more. Because what else would follow out of that mouth...? The blonde man laid his grey eyes on the other, frowning slowly as he looked back down at the floor, letting his shoulders hang. It was fine. He could carry this burden too. His shoulders were cracking, but not yet shattered. It was fine. It was all fine. It had to be.

At first, the mute man didn't even seem like he wanted to respond to the other as he stared down at the floor next to Ezekiel. One would think he was almost lost in thought. But Myrddin was quietly mourning a loss he thought he didn't have to mourn today. Would this really be it...? His gaze moved up slowly, trying to find the others eyes as he took a deep breath. But as soon as their eyes would meet, he couldn't hold on. Still terrified of it all, he couldn't face it yet. His hands slowly rose up as he took a deep breath. 'I'm worried about you,' his hands trembled as he finished his signs, he visibly had to swallow as he looked down once again. 'I don't want to fight my brother anymore,' He couldn't do it anymore. He was at his limit. He couldn't fight him anymore. And it wasn't in a physical sense... It never had been about those physical things. It had been about so much more. And it wasn't about who could hit the hardest or who could tear the other apart easier when it came to combat. He just couldn't handle the weight of him anymore. He couldn't handle all that anger and all that disapproval. The walking away, the pushing away. Lashing out at every attempt of reaching out. He could carry it all, but not the weight he kept on putting on him. For every fight they had had over the years. And all those stacked up emotions that had bursted out that day. He was tired of swimming against the current he was pushing up against him. Because all he ever wanted for him, despite it all, was for him to be happy. And he had tried every trick in the book that he had been taught by his mother. But nothing worked. And now that everything was stripped away from him, broken down and nude for all to see, all that remained was his softness.

some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood

Ezekiel felt this weird mixture of guilt and supremacy over his cousin. He was never better than Myrddin in anything, expect maybe in conversation with strangers. It was a tiny victory in the big scheme of things. Myrddin would have to be a fighter, a protector, a politician and a leader in the future. But right now, he looked like anything but that. Ezekiel never saw himself following orders from his cousin in the future, even though he might think him as his subordinate. They were equals in the past and even if Myrddin had climbed while Ezekiel had turned his back towards... everything really, he still was to stubborn to see Myrddin than anything other than that: equals. Even if the silver haired sorcerer had thrown his future in the gutter, some things would never change.

So yes, he felt a surge of power that was unfamiliar to him, to see this version of his cousin. It was quite pathetic, really. But when Myrddin started to state what was on his mind, when he even apologized, guilt washed over Ezekiel again as a crashing wave. It was due to his doing that he had created this version. And it was not a good thing, it was shameful. It scrambled up everything Ezekiel thought of this man. This boy that knew him so well. He knew exactly which strings to pull to make him explode. Maybe that was why he resented Myr so much, that he knew so much about him, so much secrets about himself that he tried to push away into a place where he would not remember them. And there he was, digging them straight up again, as if Ezekiel had giving him the map with a great red X on it to mark the spot. He blamed his cousin for trying to expose those buried fears of him, to try to make him face them. He should not have meddled with that things. By Lythrana, he was torn apart. Anger and guilt did not meet, they did not shake hands like long lost friends. But Ezekiel could not give in to either of them. He just didn't know what to answer to the problems his cousin served him with. Forgiveness was not fitting with either of those feelings.

Ezekiel did not know what to do when he saw his cousin in obvious pain as he kept apologizing, over an over. His eyes were wide as he stared at what was happening, no idea how of why it was happening. Myrddin should be livid, not wanting to talk with him. He should be clawing at him for what he had done to him. But no, he was pleading for forgiveness, as if in some way, Ezekiel would hurt him again. Was he that scared of him? So when it became to much, the silver haired boy asked him to make it stop. He didn't deserve this, not like this. Not so easy. Not because Myrddin was scared of him. It was cruel, he was cruel if he allowed to make it go on even longer. Myrddin had completely folded over, bowing his head so low that they could not share another look. Ezekiels knuckles turned white as he clasped his hands strongly together, leaning his forehead to them as he looked at his feet. And when he spoke what he came here to say, it was nothing but- to protect Myrddin from any further harm in the future. And not just him, everybody in this castle. Kenai had turned against him in that moment as well. It just could not be trusted. He, the beast, them. He was scared to admit that, but his cousin had seen it up close. He barely outlived the consequences of the lack of grip Ezekiel had on the beast. He gritted his teeth together as he mourned the loss of his magic once again, like he always did. Every time he summoned, he was left with this euphoric feeling, that soon turned to helplessness. For how powerful he could be, he was truly powerless.

From the corner of his eye he noticed that Myrddin had risen again and started to raise his hands to tell him something. Ezekiel turned his head to him, focusing on his hands as he read the signs, not being able to look at that face of him. Myr told him he was worried about him, and the silver haired boy exhaled sharply at that statement. Crippled in an infirmary bed, and still he was worried about the perpetrator. He did not deserve this, that was the only thought that kept returning over and over again. It made the wall that he had built around him tremble as he looked back at Myr, giving him the tiniest of shrugs. And then came the signs that stung the hardest. Brother. Ezekiel let his shoulders droop and a frown appeared on his face, but not one out of anger, but slight despair. He leaned back in the seat, looking at the ceiling to refrain his eyes from tearing up. Stupid, stupid Myrddin. He would never truly understand, would he? It was a pretty picture he painted. Going back to that time where everything was easy. Where they had spend every waking minute together. ‘‘Oh, Myr,’’ he huffed softly as he tried to find the words to respond. He glanced back over to the blonde boy as he attempted to swallow the lump of emotions in his voice away. ‘‘That's what brothers do.’’ He watery smile followed as if with those words, he tried to speak a truce. Yes, they might be brothers again some day, but they would never stop fighting. Then he raised his hand, as he thought his voice might betray stupid feelings he did not want to show. So he signed the words he had seen more than a dozen times coming from his cous- brother. "I am sorry." Truly. He averted his eyes and placed his hand across his chest, on his heart as he bowed his head to Myrddin. This should have never happened, and he had gotten him at him most humblest he had been in a long, long time.

NC

❝ no rain, no flowers ❞

He always got scolded for his way of thinking, his way of seeing the world. The blonde boy had always been a bit of dreamer, a bit of a believer. Head in the clouds, trying to fantasize about a future that couldn't be. He really was a simple man anyway. All he wanted was to make art and be with the person he loved. But for someone of his standing that simple mindset was just delusional. He had to be everything the people expected him to be; brutal, cold, calculated, wise. Just like his mother; a perfect leader for the city and an iron will for the family. The backbone of it all. And every time when he thought about that, he could feel a shiver run down his spine. To become like her, be like her... He honestly didn't know if he could ever be so cruel. People like her, they didn't feel anything, right? Then how was someone like him, a person that felt so very deeply, supposed to ever be the leader they wanted him to be. By the gods, he couldn't even support himself. How was he ever going to lead anyone? The only thing he ever led himself into, was trouble and pain. And as more time passed he really started to believe that he was simply not made for this world, this life... This body. Life would have been so much easier if he had simply never been born...

Life had never been easy for him, ever since birth. Being born broken and messed up, people never had any high expectations of him. But he had them to himself. And he had always pushed himself, for he wanted to be better, he wanted to compensate for the handicap that the gods had bestowed him with. If he couldn't sing, he would learn how to play every instrument. And if he couldn't speak, he would learn how to write and read every language known to mankind. It was the drive behind everything he did, that feeling of never being good enough. His magic had to be perfect, his work had to be perfect, his appearance had to be perfect. He had to be perfect. If not, then why would he even bother? And for anyone who knew him well, they would have seen the shift as time went on. From a boy that was at his lowest, to a teenager that was just filled with rage of all the wrongdoings that life had served him, to a young adult who had given in and lowered his head to it all. Bowing down to everyone before him to try and get harmony with himself and the people around him. And after that horrible accident, it had only become worst. He had started to lean back into his old self, finding back that confidence he had once lost to his duties, yet it was stripped away in a matter of minutes. How easily minds were broken, especially when there were already visibly cracks. Myrddin never claimed to be strong, or good enough. And now at his new rock-bottom he was all too aware how fragile and useless he really was. Ugly and messed up, inside and out. He didn't deserve anything, despite all his hard work.

Life had been simpler when they were still boys. Too young to understand what future laid before them. And too dumb to know that one day it would all end. When they had gotten a hold of their magic, Myrddin had found his voice and Ezekiel had found a sword to fight their demons with. If only they could have remained in that blissful place, or return back to it. But that kind of mindset was just the thing that would be the end of him. Once again, a believer, a dreamer. But he liked to dream. Because it was the one and only time he could live in a world where everything was fine and okay. In a place of pure bliss. That's all he ever wanted. Just for some peace and quiet. Not to worry about what his next step would do to the people around him. Where he didn't need to overthink about everything he did. A place where he didn't need to be perfect. And in the last couple of days he had lived in such a place. Sometimes being interfered by the nightmares and trauma that would most likely haunt him for the rest of his life. But this break from the chaos of his life... Was a welcome one. Despite the fact that he completely collapsed because of it. Maybe it was better to build it all up from scratch. If only the world worked like that, he could go back to the place he so desired. If only...

Myrddin would be lying if he would claim he wasn't scared, because he was. His body slightly trembling as he tried to act as if it was all alright. But he could feel that thought linger in the back of his mind, would it ever be alright again? Or would he forever be horrified of what happened? He didn't want to feel like this around the other, because he knew he wasn't a monster, some unhinged creature that could lash out at any time. Yet, his subconscious claimed otherwise. For that part of him was something he couldn't keep in check. It was, perhaps forever, changed for the worst. And he hated it. Because where he wanted to forgive and forget all the wrongdoing, his body simply wouldn't. He knew that it would be ingrained in his instincts and when it came down to it he would be hit by that fight or flight response. Although, in his case it was more deer in headlights style. Freezing up as he stared up at his own demise, his own doom. Where emotions could stir so much in him, fear really made him paralyzed in a way he couldn't describe or even mend. And in all honesty, he wasn't scared of much. But to be terrified of someone you cared so much about... Well that was a duality that wasn't going to mix easily. Most likely never. He would have to find a way around it, a way to deal with his own anxiety and fears.

It took a lot out of him to not completely give in to that feeling. He wanted to run, hide away and plead for his life. Yet, he could refrain from doing so. The slight shaking of his hands the only give away of the sensation that was running through his veins. He knew that Ezekiel wouldn't cause him any harm. Like he had said, if he really wanted him dead, he would have been. And damn, for such a genuine promise it sure as hell felt like the most fearsome threat the other could ever make. He really didn't know how to use his words, just like him. They both were horrible with communication, but at least that was something they shared as family. The one and only thing. For where he was weak and soft as a cloud, Ezekiel was as stoic and stern as a rock. And where he tried to make harmony with world around him, building up something perfect. Ezekiel always tried to fight up against that current, as if bringing chaos and pain into this world was the only thing that mattered. Sometimes he wondered if his brother, the good one, was still there. But well, funnily enough it all came back to him being a believer, didn't it? If there was one person who saw good in the monster before him, it would be him. Because that's just who he was. Not a leader, not a soldier, not even a healer. Just a boy with a pencil who tried to see beauty in all.

And as he was able to put his troubles out for the other to see, he honestly didn't expect anything back. He never did. Well, maybe he did, a little bit. In the past he had held up hope every time when he reached like this. But as it got denied over and over again, he had just... Started to stop believing. Slowly losing hope or expectations from the people around him. For someone who had such a high status, he rarely got what he asked for or wanted. At the end of the day it didn't matter what he wanted anyway. He was just as much a slave to his family as the common man was to society. His worth came with his deeds and his words, one an impossibility since birth, the other brutally taken away from him. Now he was as much worth as the dirt they walked on. If anything, he was disposable. The perfect time to get rid of him. And he almost... Smiled at that idea. Because it sounded so peaceful in his head. Bittersweet even. But that outcome would be too kind for him. His personal demons would never let him live such a happy life. This cruel fate that he was born into was forever his to carry, until he would let out his final breath. Until he was nothing more but skin and bones.

When he heard that familiar name people used for him, he slowly looked over to the other. He had expected to meet the others two coloured eyes, but to his surprise Ezekiel was looking upwards at the ceiling. For a moment, the blonde man gazed up to the same spot he was looking at, only to finally meet his gaze when he looked back at him. And he had to hold himself back as he felt his throat tighten up. He straightened his shoulders slowly, trying to regain himself as he looked over the others face. And for the first time in a very long time; something seemed to break through. Something that wasn't anger... or hate... Or anything brutal. It was soft and fragile, something that could be traced back ever so slightly in his voice as he spoke. And Myrddin blinked in surprise when he said those words, puzzled and confused. Somewhere, in his head, he had expected the other to explode. But in another part of his head he had wished it to be all peaceful and quiet. And... out of all the outcomes, he had chosen to pick the one he had hold onto for the past few years, ever since they had started to grow apart. Perhaps they weren't as different as they thought they were after all.

And then the other moved his hand, using it communicate in that language they had developed back when they were boys. The same motion he had just made a couple of minutes ago. He stared at him as he bowed his head to him now, his stomach turning as soon as the other did that. That just felt wrong. He never really was too bothered when people bowed to him. But now that the other finally did it before him it just... Didn't feel right. And in that moment it clicked. The fear that was slowly creeping up on him seemed to fade away, even if it was ever so slightly. But in a weird combination of unfamiliarity and honesty there was both comfort and distaste. Had he ever wanted the boy to bow to him like he did now? Now that he thought about it... No. Because at the end of the day he never felt himself superior to him. And he knew that the action was done out of how he felt, about what he played between them. And even then it still felt wrong. He was sorry because he couldn't keep himself in check for his awful behaviour. Or maybe it was.... More than that.

Whatever it was, he pushed himself somewhat to the side of the bed. His legs sending a jolt of pain up his body as they protested against the action. He bit his lip, holding back a whimper as his hands supported him so he wouldn't fall over. One deep breath and he leaned to one side, towards the other. One arm holding him from collapsing in completely as the other slowly raised upwards. For just a moment he seemed to hesitate. As his hands hovered his barely inches away from the other. His grey eyes looking over him, observing every part of what was visible to him. His silver hair that set him apart in the family covered most of him up now, yet he swore he could see glimpses of details between them as he lowered his body more. And in that moment it simply clicked. Subconscious fear making room for everything else that pushed its way up against him. When all of that melted away, his hand moved more towards him. His fingers slowly going past his face, straight for his hand that laid atop his heart. Slowly, yet still trembling ever so slightly, he cupped his hand around his, trying to squeeze it with the last strength he had in his body. But it was hard as he already needed all his will not to break down in pure agonizing pain.

He remained in that position for a bit, simply waiting until the other would move again. It was never simple to speak as a mute, but with people like him it all went a bit easier. At the end of the day everything Ezekiel had done had changed his life for the better. And he honestly wouldn't know where he would be now if it wasn't for him. So when he finally could feel a bit or relief on his side he moved the arm that was supporting him so that he could sign. 'You're okay,' He was struggling to sign like this, but he tried to manage. 'It's okay,' In all honesty he didn't know what else he could tell him. What else he could say. If anything, he wanted to pull the other in for a hug, but he physically wasn't able to do so. Or maybe he could, but then they would both end up on the floor. And he would be in pain and perhaps Ezekiel would be annoyed and they could laugh about it- Maybe... 'Idiots... We...' Damn he really wasn't stable like this with one arm. But as long as he would manage the signs he meant it would come across. Perhaps not flawless, but it would work, he would get the message. 'Could never hate you,' Even despite all the anger and annoyance he could get out of him, he could never. Myrddin tried to force a smile on his face, but it was clear he was in pain, trying to fight it as much as he could as he tried to keep leaning into it, his hand still on his as he tried to keep on signing. A soft laugh leaving his lips, perhaps more as a way to relief the pain he was feeling, as he made a humming sound, realizing he wasn't going to be able to say anything more like this. But that was okay.

some children are simplyborn with tragedy in their blood

It was useless to dream about the past, to wonder how things might could have been if history was on their side of the story. He had tried in the past to conserve their relationship, but it had been futile then. And when they continued to grow apart, he had given up on the idea that they could be close once again. Ezekiel had grown bitter, and Myrddin had grown up. And after all those months, years, Ezekiel had concluded it was too late to right the wrongs. Those bridges had been burned. And he was not about to forgive his cousin for leaving him behind. Because in all his selfishness, he had sacrificed the only person still standing in his corner. So when he returned, he had not been waiting.

And Ezekiel had been angry ever since. It had been his mission to make Myr hurt, like he had been hurt. It was petty, and childish, and perhaps even cruel. But his only defense mechanism to not show how he had been hurt. But he had crossed the line in his anger, and he had lashed out in a way he should never have. It was shameful and it was pathetic in a way. Ezekiel could maybe be the strongest summoner their would ever be, but he could not even overcome a childhood grudge, and that showed in the magic lost.

But today, in the vulnerability of the infirmary, he could give an inch. Because maybe after this time, he did not want to fight anymore. He wanted his brother back. He wanted how it was when they were children, when life wasn't as complicated. When Ezekiel didn't know how jealousy felt like. How easy it was to be happy then. It was like breathing. They didn't need anyone. They had a whole city to explore. They didn't live in a castle back then. Everything was easier then, normaler. They did not have to worry about who would rule the underwater city. The biggest crimes they did, was create havoc with their familiars. But even that was somehow endearing and easy to forgive, because they were gifted kids after all. Even training together had been fun, until they learned how cruel the world could actually be.

Ezekiel still not seemed to have healed from those wounds, those scars still fresh on his heart. It took him a long, lonely time to ever recover from that. And it didn't seem to get better. Myrddin had figured it out, also something he seemed to be so effortless in. Or maybe he was just better in screaming for help, as Ezekiel endured it in silence, not showing anything at the surface. So when he finally crumbled down, physically expressing his guilt to his cousin, it was a glimpse in everything he had been bottling up. And while his eyes were still focused at the ground, he was scared how Myr might react. By Lythrana, he even felt like crying, but he gritted his teeth together as he forced himself to grab himself together. He heard rustling from the bed as the silver haired sorcerer just pressed his lips together, slightly eyeing up to the blonde. He expected him to forgive him, as he had done before, saying he was sorry. An apology he did not deserve, but had gotten anyway. He had craved that apology for a long time, maybe more for what had happened before, so he would take it. Maybe some scars could finally heal after this. Maybe he could try to be better, if Myr could understand, in some ways.

Ezekiel slightly flinched as Myr took his hand. He looked up again, staring with bewildered eyes at the other. He saw how he was straining his body, so he dropped his hand from his chest to the side of the bed, Myr's long fingers still over his hand. He felt quite uncomfortable with the sudden closeness between the two. He nodded slightly as he saw Myr forming words with his other hand, biting down on his lips. It was absurd that he was the one trying to comfort him, telling he was okay, that everything was fine. It was far from fine, but maybe they could pretend it was. He was living in a play anyway, so perhaps pretending was easier for now.

When he struggled to sign that they were idiots, he broke a small smile. ‘‘We are,’’ he said with a hoarse voice. Stupid, grown ups still acting like they were kids. It was really silly for them to fight like this for so long. If only... But being separated at youth hadn't helped heal those old wounds. The anger was so familiar, so comfortable, that he did not know anything else. And when he continues to tell him that he could never hate him, another frown appeared on Ezekiel's face as he tried to badly hide the emotions. Feeling lost for words, he had no idea to express his gratitude. He just looked at his brother, nodding slightly. He laid his other hand on top of his, still holding his hand. He hoped it said enough.

Myrddin was clearly in pain, so he leaned back, untangling his hands from Myr. ‘‘I uh... I'll let you rest,’’ he spoke softly as pushed his hair away from his forehead. He swallowed roughly. ‘‘Get better quickly,’’ he continued. For both their sakes. Once his aunt would return.. well, it would just be easier if they would not have to explain.. this. He rose from his seat and kept his eyes on his brother's frail body. He had not spoken much, but enough was being said. The first steps were taking in healing. It was sad that he had to break his legs for it. To see fear in his eyes. In some ways, things were even more complicated now. But a path had opened up to a future where they could be standing side by side once more.

NC