Fae Courts Echoes of the Elderglen

[Rivain]

​

Morning light filtered through the dense canopy of the Elderglen, casting dappled shadows onto the sparring ring created atop the forest floor. The air was thick with humidity, the breeze only serving to move the uncomfortably hot air around. Even in the dark shadows of the trees, there was no escaping the summer weather. In the center of the ring, two tall fae males stood facing each other, posture poised and alert.

Rivain, the eldest of the Adamou siblings, exuded an air of confidence and cockiness. His bare muscular frame was adorned with a slew of scars from a lifetime of training. White blonde hair clung to his sweat coated skin, a stark contrast to his tanned skin from the harsh summer sun. Golden brown eyes glowed from the sunlight that sprinkled in between the leaves.

The clearing was secluded, a perfect circle of soft grass hidden in the ancient trees. A location they had secured as children and worn down over hundreds of years and thousands of fights. The forest seemed to come to a halt, holding its breath anytime the two blond boys visited as if they respected the fae more than the laws of nature itself.

A blonde girl lingered nearby, sent by Rivain and Asher's father to ensure the two men did not cause too much damage during this session. None seemed too thrilled whenever she was nearby, a sentiment she returned. Rivain ignored her.

"Remember your stance." Rivain advised, his voice calm and steady despite the intensity of sparring and the exhaustion he'd felt from the hours before. He adjusted his own footing, eyes never leaving the younger Adamou. "You are slouching again. Shoulders back."

With a swift, fluid motion, Rivain lunged forward and sliced through the air while aiming for his brother. A move he would no doubt dodge easily. Asher was quick on his feet and even quicker with his sword. He'd always been more gifted with melee combat, but Rivain felt it unfair to hide in the trees and pelt his brother with arrows as a training exercise. He could use the refresher, anyway, often finding himself lacking with a sword or shield after so many years with a bow in his hands.

They danced around each other, striking and counterstriking in a pattern that was a testament to their natural born skill and nearly a thousand years of training.

"Try to be more unpredictable." His tone was encouraging, good advice for the both of them as they have grown accustomed to the same dance time and time again. "I'm getting bored."

Asher

 

[Vespera]

Vespera watched from the shadows of the ancient trees, keen eyes following every move the fae males made. She had been sent by their father to ensure they did not damage the forest or, more importantly, kill one another. Atop a moss-covered boulder at the edge of the clearing, she took her usual spot. It was a place they could not see, but they would certainly feel the unwanted woman in the vicinity.

Her presence was unwelcome, no one had every attempted to hide it except her late adoptive father and the two men's own father who found her to be quite fierce when he put a weapon in her hands. A half-human, half-fae, she had never truly belonged to either world, but this was the one she was found in and it would be the one she died in when her time came. Until then, she would do her job, and she would do it well. Their disdain, while palpable, would never eat too deeply.

Rivain's powerful strikes against Ash's agile counters echoed through the forest, lulling into an all to familiar rhythm. Her eyes narrowed on Ash, noticing that he had been falling into a pattern as he sparred. A pattern that Rivain had noticed, too. She silently prayed he would listen and do something unpredictable just to silence the eldest brother. Gods knew he was skilled enough to knock his brother on his ass. She wondered if it was out of respect or fear that Ash so rarely beat his brother.

But Ash had adjusted and Vespera could still see that the youngest Adamou was struggling to keep up with each blow. Rivain was a relentless beast. His advice was sound, but his superiority was grating and Vespera thought he might enjoy imposing on him the dynamic she had witnessed for years- forcing the youngest to prove himself competent against an older, more experienced male.

She turned her attention back to the horrible sticky armor clinging to her burning skin while they continued to exchange blows.

 

[Asher]

Ash’s brow furrowed as he considered Rivain's words. Unpredictable. He could feel the strain of the morning's exertion weighing heavily on him, his muscles aching, his mind dulled by the remnants of last night's indulgences. His brother's relentless precision had kept him on the defensive for too long, and Ash's frustration was mounting.

With a sharp intake of breath, Ash stumble to one knee, dropping his weapons and grimacing as a hand came to clutch at his chest, sucking in a hiss of air through his teeth.

He needed only a flicker of concern, a pause of uncertainty from his brother, a step closer before he straightened and lunged forward, not with his swords but with a fluid, unexpected motion that brought him dangerously close to Rivain.

His brother's reflexes were quick, but in close quarters, Ash was quicker. He pivoted on one foot and sprang up, driving his elbow with calculated force into Rivain's face, his eyes blazing with a mix of determination and raw emotion.

"Unpredictable enough for you, brother?" he asked, his fists raised. The underlying rage and the effort to mask his weariness fuelled his movements.

 

[Rivain]

When he instructed the youngest Adamou to be more unpredictable, he had meant for him to dodge. To strike somewhere unexpected. Hell, doing a somersault to dodge the harsh blows from Rivain seemed more likely than his brother stumbling. A brow raised in concern, Rivain dropping his guard to step closer.

"Ash?" He stepped forward, face losing color as he feared his brother may truly be unwell. "What's wr-"

Unpredictable indeed.

"Oh you fucking-" Rivain dropped his own weapon as his brother's elbow made contact with his nose. A deafening crunch preceded the hot blood flowing down his face. Even with his surely broken nose, Rivain could not help the pleased smile on his face. Smug. That was what it was. Pushing his brother was dangerous, but it kept the both of them sharp when one threatened to falter.

Rivain would not allow Ash the be the victor, however. Metallic blood burned his tongue and he launched himself at the younger blond man, bringing them both to the ground. Without a weapon, he struck his own brother in the face and pinned him down. "That was better, brother." His blood dripped onto Asher's face. "Much less boring."

But Rivain was not done. Without a weapon, he would make use of his natural affinity for air. Asher would feel his breaths becoming more difficult to take, lungs emptying until there was nothing but that ever so smug face of Rivain looming over him. Waiting for him to admit defeat. Or suffocate.

 

[Asher]

Ash gave a strangled grunt that was clearly some sort of profanity, his face flushing as he tried to gasp for air and the edges of his vision already growing dark. He hated it when Rivain did this. He knew his brother would never kill him, cause him to pass out perhaps, but the sensation of suffocating always triggered a flash of panic and fear. He had long ago learned to hide his fear. His father had seen to that, but it didn't make it any less real.

Let go.. Please let go..

He wouldn't give up easily. He couldn’t beg. His father had seen to that too. Ash’s hand splayed, fingers trembling as he called upon the shadows lurking beneath the trees. They answered his silent command, slithering like serpents toward Rivain. Smoky tendrils climbed his brother's body and coiled around his throat, something no longer shadow but tangible, solid, and pulling tight.

The runes etched over the entire side of his body pulsed with the magic that was not his own. This magic was twisted, warped and forced upon him, magic that he had no choice but to harness and hone. He felt the dark power surge through him, feeding his rage and desperation. Two could play at this game.

As the shadows constricted Rivain’s throat, Ash summoned a different kind of power. Fire, magic that was his, had been his mother's, magic that felt natural, whole, and right. Magic that his father had been too impatient to wait for. Flames licked at Asher's skin without burning it, their heat a comforting contrast to the cold, dark magic of the shadows. The fire gathered in his fist, burning brighter and hotter with each passing second.

With a final surge of strength, Ash threw his flaming fist at Rivain's face, his own vision nearly blacking out from the lack of air.

 

[Rivain]

He smiled over his brother, the cruel grin of an older brother not allowing the youngest to best him. Rivain could see it in Ash's eyes, the moment he began to struggle against his own magic. He hid it well, even their father could not coax fear from the boy any longer. But Rivain could see it in the way his pupils contracted and dilated, his tanned skin paling.

He was nearing his surrender, Rivain was confident.

He did not see the way Ash spread his fingers with shaking hands, nor did he see the subtle shift in shadow and light surrounding them. But he could feel them. Like snakes creeping up his body. Rivain did not immediately release Ash from his suffocating grasp, feeling his own throat closing. Ash would see his smile grow.

Rivain would never say he was impressed. Not out loud. But as he choked on a breath, throat squeezed tightly by the shadows, he nearly missed the flaming fist headed straight towards his face.

He released the magic he'd been using on his brother, allowing air to rush back into his lungs with only a fraction of a second to snuff out the flames before Asher's fist slammed into his face. It knocked him backward, and he stumbled backward. "Is that all you've got, brother?" He asked, rubbing his cheekbone while he stood to look down on Ash.

 

[Asher]

‘Look at you. Pathetic. Fight back, boy!’

They’d been at this for hours. Ash was bruised and battered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the power his father so desperately tried to coax from him. It didn’t matter how angry Ash got, how afraid he felt, how much pain he was in, nothing ever happened.

He was clawing at his own throat, tears streaming from his eyes as they silently begged his father to let him breathe. Let him live. How was he supposed to fight back when he could no longer draw breath? He had tried, feebly, swinging blocked blow after blocked blow until he’d ended up on his knees, crawling away from the towering man until a brutal kick to his stomach sent him sprawling onto his back, writhing in the grass.

‘Is that all you’ve got, boy?’

His father sneered, his hand trembling in a tight fist. Ash was going to die. His father had had enough. He could not plead, at least not aloud.

Darkness crept in, his slowing heartbeat pounding in his ears, until he gave up his fight entirely, and fell into unconsciousness.

Here he was again, gasping for air as he lay in the grass, pulling breath back into his lungs in greedy gulps. The darkness cleared from his vision, but not from his mind. He looked up at Rivain and saw only his father standing there.

Shadows lashed up from the tall grass like coiled vipers, wrapping themselves around his brother’s wrists, his legs, his throat, holding him as Ash rolled to his feet and launched his assault. Quick, and violent. Jab, hook, uppercut..

 

[Rivain]

The smug look on Rivain's face seemed to falter as his brother did not immediately rise with some sort of cocky retort. Even when Asher was unable to best Rivain in a physical fight, he often could with his words. Even in the spur of a moment, they seemed so carefully picked and crafted in a way that hurt Rivain deeper than any weapon could. Yet, he hadn't moved from the ground.

Rivain looked down at his brother, who gasped for air and responded to the look of almost concern with disgust.

The shadows slithering around in the grass had gone unnoticed when Rivain stepped closer to extend a hand, to pull his brother from the forest floor. Before he could reach them, he was tethered to the ground and Ash was back up with an unexpected quickness throwing fists directly at his face.

The first one landed with a deafening crunch to his nose.

The second to the side of his head. Rivain's vision blurred.

The third just under his chin, snapping his head upward where he could see the clearing of leaves above them.

Truly, Rivain did not know if it was only three punches or fifty. In the blink of an eye, he had gone from extending a hand to his brother to swaying on his feet. The darkness crept in through his vision and it seemed Asher's shadows could not support his weight as he stumbled backwards. His back slammed into the ground first and Rivain lay there with ears ringing while the world faded back into view.

 

[Vespera]

"Shit!"

She had seen the moment Ash's expression shifted, darkening. His usual restraint slipped from him, his movement panicked and erratic. She stood from her spot and considered if she should step in.

Vespera heard the sickening crack of Rivain's nose echoing through the Elderglen and turned only as Rivain's body crumpled to the ground. Asher seemed to loom over him, chest heaving in a fury that Vespera had never seen from him. He was by no means the passive brother, no. But he'd always accepted his defeat. Sort of. He'd never knocked his brother out.

It seemed to her that their pride and grudges had turned into something far, far worse.

"Enough." Her voice was sharp and commanding, ringing out just as the crunch of Rivain's broken nose had. She sprinted into the clearing, her armor clanking loudly as she skidded to a halt between the two brothers. She placed a hand on Asher's chest, pushing him back away from his brother.

"I promised your father," She reminded them both, "that I would not allow you to kill each other today." She glanced between them. Rivain was still, eyes barely adjusting to his surroundings. Asher looked like an animal. Vespera should have been worried more about herself when he looked like that.

She pushed Ash further, "Back off of him. Now." She snapped at him, her golden eyes locking onto his. There was something so fierce and unyielding in the girl as she protected the ones who seemed to hate her the most. "You need to control yourself."

 

[Asher]

Ash stood over Rivain, chest heaving as rage coursed through him. The shadows still clung to his brother, coiled tightly around his limbs, as if they were an extension of his anger, his hatred. He hadn't meant to go this far, but once he started, he couldn't stop. Rivain's smug face, the feeling of suffocation, his father's words—everything blurred together until all Ash could think of was hitting, hurting, making Rivain feel what he had felt.

The crack of bone, the sound of his brother hitting the ground—these were supposed to bring satisfaction, but they didn't. Instead, there was just the lingering burn of anger, the familiar taste of it in the back of his throat. He was ready to carry on, to make sure his brother stayed down this time, when Vespera's sharp voice cut through the haze of fury.

'Enough.'

Ash barely registered her words as she stepped between them, her hand pressing against his chest to push him back. His eyes were wild, dark with the volatile magic still coursing through him, and he sneered down at her, his heart pounding with fear and rage under her palm. The shadows twisted around her hand as if they might lash out of their own accord, but Ash controlled them—barely.

"You mean you promised my father that you would not allow me to kill him today," Ash spat, his voice dripping with venom. He could feel the darkness inside him writhing, begging to be unleashed. His shadows flickered, shoving Vespera back a step, though he hadn’t consciously willed them to do so. "I didn't see you stepping in when he ripped the air from my lungs."

He felt the flames at his fingertips, itching to be released, but he held them back. Just barely. His anger was a living thing, barely contained, and it took everything in him not to lash out further. Vespera's presence, her unyielding stare, made it difficult for him to fully lose control, but it didn't calm him either. She was just another extension of his father, here to watch him.

He took a step back, shadows still coiling around him protectively until he shrugged them off and turned his back on them both. "We're done for the day."

 

[Vespera]

Brutish fae bastards. Vespera thought to herself, staring up at Ash while he looked down at her like he was ready to put her next to Rivain. She felt him, his magic, as it twisted around her hand, up her wrist. He didn't scare her. She had only ever made a promise to keep the two of them from killing each other. There was no vow that she would not put her own blade into either of their hearts if they stepped out of line. It would be a blessing to the world.

She stumbled for a moment as he pushed her back, finding her footing on the uneven ground. "I didn't step in because your brother was not going to kill you. He knows when to stop. You lack discipline, Ash. You don't know when to stop because you stop thinking and you get emotional." She should not have argued with the volatile man, but she was not done talking. "If he had gone farther, I would have stopped him just as I am stopping you now."

She looked down at Rivain. His chest was rising and falling in even breaths. She nudged him with her foot, but he did not move. He only grunted.

"Fine. By all means. You are done sparring, but I am not carrying back your brother on my own." She stared daggers at him as he tried to flee, her eyes burning into his back until he would turn around. "Get back here and grab an arm."

 

[Asher]

Ash’s jaw tightened as Vespera's words cut through the thick fog of his anger. He hated how calm she was, how she spoke to him like he was a child throwing a tantrum. He could feel his blood boiling at her condescension, but she was right—he had lost control, and that realisation only fueled his frustration. His knuckles were still white from the tightness of his fists, the magic within him surging, demanding to be used, to be unleashed. But he held it back, grinding his teeth as she continued to speak.

"Emotional?" he scoffed, his voice low and venomous. "The fuck do you know about my emotions, Vespera." he spat rhetorically. "This has nothing to do with emotions." This was what he'd been forced to be.

But even as he said it, he knew arguing with her was pointless. His anger wouldn’t change anything; it never did. It only ever made things worse. He had let the shadows take over, let the rage control him instead of the other way around, and he hated himself enough for it without a verbal lashing from anyone else.

When she ordered him to help, his first instinct was to storm off, to let them both deal with the mess on their own. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the lingering guilt, or maybe it was the image of his father’s disappointed sneer if he walked away. Whatever it was, it made him pause.

With a frustrated growl, Ash turned back around, his expression a mask of barely contained fury. He knelt beside Rivain, glancing at his brother’s bloodied face with a mix of anger and regret. "I'll carry him on my own." he grumbled. The shadows that had bound Rivain slithered away as Ash reached down to grab his brother’s arm, lifting him with a rough, but not entirely careless, grip.

"This is your fault," he muttered under his breath, though it was unclear if he was talking to Rivain, Vespera, or himself. The weight of his brother felt heavier than it should, and not just because of the physical strain.
With a grunt, he hoisted Rivain up, feeling the familiar resentment simmering just below the surface. He refused to meet Vespera's gaze as he started toward home.

 

[Vespera]

He could not see her, but her silence was abrupt. What the fuck did she know about his emotions? Her gaze burned. What the fuck did she know? She wanted to stomp over to his irritating ass and put her fist through his face. She knew it wasn't a jab at her, but she knew a hell of a lot more than he did about anything emotional. She had a fraction of his lifespan, but in that insignificant-to-him amount of time, she had to come to terms with certain things that wouldn't matter to him for hundreds of years. Things like emotions.

To come to terms with, and get control over her emotions. He had a nearly six hundred year head start and still let them rule him like a child. Even Rivain was bad enough. She was a glorified babysitter for two nearly thousand year old toddlers. Gods, save me. She begged.

And because he was an emotional disaster, she knew he would not leave her there to carry Rivain back alone. She willed the anger on her face into a smug smile as he turned. "By all means." She gestured to the unconscious fae and leaned down to pick up Rivain's sword.

She followed behind Ash, holding her tongue when she noticed his growing struggle as they neared home. As long as he kept him alive, Vespera considered it a successful sparring match and a success at keeping them from killing one another or destroying the forest. Their father had no reason to continue withholding her training if she was proving to be competent, but he was unpredictable. She had very little reason to believe he was so willing to forget that she had been involved in an accident that damaged a few of the ancient trees.

But two years? His grudge was getting ridiculous.

And she was not stupid enough to try and train with either of his volatile sons who seemed to hate her.

"Only a little ways to go," She stated, her voice absent of the usual sharpness. "Think you got it from here? You look like you're struggling."

 

[Asher]

Ash's jaw clenched as he heard Vespera's smug tone, her words needling at the frayed edges of his temper. Struggling? He wasn’t about to admit that. Not to her. Not to anyone.

He tightened his grip on Rivain, forcing his body to push through the fatigue and the lingering burn of his magic. Each step felt heavier than the last, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him falter. Not when he had already given too much away.

"I’ve got it, don't need your help, and I sure as hell don't need your pity," he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He could feel her gaze boring into his back, but he refused to turn around and acknowledge it. "Why don’t you worry about your own training instead of hovering around like some vulture?"

The trees loomed larger as they neared the edge of the forest, their towering forms casting long shadows across the path. Ash focused on the ground ahead, willing his legs to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The silence between them was heavy, but he preferred it that way. Words were just another way to expose vulnerability, and he’d had enough of that for one day.

But as they trudged on, he couldn’t help the small voice in the back of his mind that echoed her earlier words. Discipline. Control. She didn’t know what it was like, what it took for him to keep the darkness at bay. But maybe she was right about one thing—he needed to get a better handle on it, for his own sake if nothing else. He didn’t need her reminding him of what he already knew—that he was struggling, that he was still fighting battles in his head that he should have conquered long ago. The last thing he needed was her smug satisfaction that she was right, that she had some sort of moral high ground over him.

Ash finally caught sight of the edge of the clearing that led back to their home. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Vespera's gaze with a look that was half defiance, half exhaustion. "I don’t need your pity, Vespera," he muttered. "But thanks for the help. Not that I asked for it."

He kept walking, not waiting for her response. He just wanted to get Rivain back, get this over with, and find somewhere to be alone. Somewhere to breathe without feeling the weight of expectations pressing down on him.

Ash grunted as he shouldered the last of Rivain's weight, finally pushing through the heavy wooden door of their father's home with a quiet groan. The air inside the house was cool, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat outside, but it did nothing to ease the tension in his chest.

The house was eerily silent, and for a moment, Ash held his breath, straining to listen for any sign of their father. The thought of facing Aerion now, with Rivain unconscious and himself barely holding it together, sent a cold shiver down his spine. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his head, laced with disappointment and contempt.

He quickly scanned the room, his heart pounding in his chest. The absence of Aerion’s imposing figure was a small mercy, but it didn’t stop the knot of anxiety from tightening in his gut as he let his brother fall into a chair.

“Come on, Riv,” Ash muttered under his breath, slumping down beside his brother and slapped gently at his bruised face, his eyes flickering to the door once more. “Just wake up, and we can pretend this never happened.”

 

[Vespera]

"You'd have to be worth pitying in the first place." Vespera huffed, speaking more to herself than Ash. But she hoped he heard her, regardless. "I think you out of everyone would know why I'm not training. After all, its your father who is punishing me. I'll probably die of old age before he gives up his pointless grudge. I guarantee you and Rivain have destroyed more of this place than I ever have."

She was quiet after that, letting Asher continue his pity party on his own and in his head. She knew the motions all too well. She had many days where she walked home in silence with thoughts raging in her head that nothing but fighting could get out. Many days that seemed to grow closer and closer together the more she was on babysitting duty.

"Mhm." She responded, but he didn't seem to acknowledge her if he did hear her. "See you tomorrow."

She turned and headed the opposite direction, toward the old home she had shared with her late adoptive father. Ever since his death, she had preferred to spend her time outside.

She opened the front door, a massive wooden monster carved by hand, and wandered in to the darkness. It was cold. And dark. So dark. Her eyes, unlike her fathers, did not seem to adjust to the darkness. And her powers, or lack thereof, prevented her from using magic to simply light each candle and bring life back into the home.

Slowly, one by one, Vespera trudged through the lonely home and lit the candles of the rooms she would use. The hallways, kitchen, and the bedroom. Much of the rest of the place had been taken over by a layer of dust that she knew her father would have killed her over had he not passed on. But she couldn't bring herself to even setting a foot in his study.

It felt like an intrusion. It felt like violating something that was not hers, like ruining something that was meant to be preserved forever. Still, sometimes, she would linger by and crack the door open for just a moment- enough time to catch a whiff of the spicy cologne he used to wear or the scent of herbs he was brewing into some potion she would never try. She hated it all, but could not force herself to move past it at the same time.

 

[Rivain]

Rivain stood in the makeshift fighting ring, fragmented rays of sun illuminating the forest floor. His vision was hazy. Everything felt vivid yet so distant. Like a memory he had never had. He turned around once, searching for anyone. The sounds of the Elderglen grounded him, but there was still something heavy in the air. It felt like someone was watching him.

When he turned around once more, he was no longer facing the boulder that the blonde woman sat atop. His brother, too, was not there. The sweltering heat of summer had turned cold. The sunlight dimmed, gold shifting to silver. Moonlight.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned, expecting to see his brother, but when he stopped he found himself face to face with the half-breed blonde bitch. Vespera. Her eyes, once a pool of glittering golds, were wholly black. Her expression unreadable for the moments she stood in silence, taking in the confused male before her.

But her face shifted, something angry mingled with something softer, regret maybe. "Just like your father," she tutted, shaking her head. Shadowy tendrils had coiled, not around Rivain's neck, but around hers. Constricting her. Matching shadows shackled her wrists and her ankles, tethering her to the ground. Before Rivain could respond, Ash was beside her. His face twisted from a grimace to something far more malicious.

As if he had cursed himself for what the shadows did to Vespera for just a moment before there was no humanity left in him.

She choked out a breath, her skin turning pale.

Asher ignored the blonde and faced his brother. "You have always been the problem, brother." His voice was cold, it was not his own. Rivain tried to respond, but his voice could not come out. "Everything between us is wrong because of you."

Rivain felt those same cold shadows snaking up his legs, rooting him to the spot. A blade was pressed over his heart. Vespera coughed, gasping for air. He let his eyes roam to where she thrashed for a moment before those shadows tightened and vanished. The blonde slumped over, her limp body crashing into the ground. The blade pierced through his leathers, slicing at his skin. "You wish so badly to be the man you call father."

He blinked and the cold steel was replaced by a wooden sword. The ones the two had sparred with in their childhood. Holding it, was a version of Asher no older than twelve. Runes had been etched into his skin, the boy glowing with fire and shadow and something so ancient, so evil. The boy was bleeding, their father's voice echoed- angry at the disgrace of having such a useless child.

Rivain's eyes watered. How many times had their father beaten him for trying to protect Ash? How many times had he beat Ash harder for needing the protection?

He blinked again, the sound of steel piercing flesh filling his ears. He was certain he was dying. When his eyes opened, there was no blade driven into his heart. But at the end of his own hand, was the hilt of his own blade pressed firmly through the leathers of his brother. Ash was falling forward, his dead weight overtaking Rivain's strength. Glazed over eyes met his and a smile, wicked and wild burned its way into Rivain's mind.

They hit the ground.

With a gasp, Rivain shot up in the chair. His brother lingered over him, but there was nothing but fear in Rivain's eyes. He was alive. Alive, and himself. His breaths came in ragged pants for a few moments before he calmed himself enough to ask, no, beg, "How long have I been out?" as his eyes darted around the room.

 

[Asher]

Ash had been staring out the window, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration, guilt, and the lingering sting of Vespera’s parting words. Worth pitying? He clenched his jaw, the memory of her remark gnawing at him, even though he tried to shove it aside. As if he didn’t already know how worthless he was, he didn't need a human girl reminding him.

He had been caught in his own head when Rivain’s sudden gasp jolted him back to reality.

Ash turned quickly, rising from his spot by the window. The fear in Rivain's eyes sent a jolt of something sharp through his chest. His brother rarely looked like that—like he was truly afraid. Rivain was always the strong one, the confident one, the one who never backed down from anything. Seeing him this way made Ash's stomach twist in a way he hated.

"You’ve been out for a couple of hours," Ash muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he approached Rivain cautiously. He didn't mention how long he'd sat there, watching Rivain breathe, counting each breath just to make sure.

The silence between them was heavy, and Ash found it hard to meet his brother’s eyes. His mind was still racing, replaying the moment in the clearing over and over. The way he’d lost control. The way the shadows had surged forward, more violent than he intended, and how he hadn’t been able to stop them until it was too late. And then the memory of their father, looming over him, pushing him to the edge until he broke. The thought made Ash’s hands clench into fists at his sides.

"You alright?" His voice was low, rough with the weight of everything unsaid. He could still feel the anger simmering just below the surface, but it wasn’t directed at Rivain. Not really. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry, brother. I..." he swallowed, dropping his gaze and letting himself fall back into the chair. "Sorry."

 

[Rivain]

Rivain drew a hand up to his throbbing head, shutting his eyes for a moment before he spoke.

"Hours?" He looked up at his brother, the tone in his voice bordering on frantic. "What the fuck, Ash?" He made an attempt to stand, his vision blurring and forcing him back down into the chair.

He took a deep breath and then another, until his panic wore down. "I will be alright, yeah." He forced a huff of laughter through the screaming pain in his head. "Not the first time I took a fist to the face. Don't apologize for it. Tell me, where have you been hiding that right hook all these years?"

His laughter seemed to be genuine following his question and he had no mention of the shadowy tendrils that had bound him and threatened to cut his life short. It was as if he did not remember it at all. "Get me a cup of water and tell me about it, will you?"

 

[Asher]

Ash watched as Rivain struggled to stand, and the frantic tone in his brother’s voice sent another wave of guilt crashing through him. He hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they had. His hands flexed at his sides, trying to push away the memories of the shadows coiling around Rivain’s throat, the rage that had taken over.

“Yeah… hours,” Ash muttered under his breath, stepping back as Rivain sat down heavily again. Ash managed a tight-lipped grin. His right hook? Really? That’s what Rivain was focusing on? "Guess I’ve been saving it for a special occasion," he joked weakly, though the humour barely reached his voice. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to shake off the weight of everything still hanging between them. Rivain didn’t seem bothered, but Ash couldn’t shake the image of his brother’s near lifeless body under his fists—what could’ve happened if things had gone any further.

“Water. Right.” Grateful for the excuse to escape the room, even if just for a minute, Ash turned and walked to grab a cup, filling it from a nearby pitcher.

When he returned, he handed it to Rivain, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “I'd rather talk about anything else,” he said quietly, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “It wasn’t anything special. You got in my head. I got pissed off.” He shrugged, like that explained it all. But there was more to it—so much more that he didn’t even know how to start talking about.

Sitting back down by the window, Ash’s eyes stayed fixed on the trees outside. He hated how he felt, how things had gotten so out of control, but Rivain was acting like nothing had happened. Like it was just another sparring match. Maybe Rivain had forgotten, but Ash hadn’t.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, voice quieter this time.

 

[Rivain]

"Huh..." Rivain chuckled, "Should have waited until father was watching to show off how much you have improved. I am impressed, brother. First time beating me in...ever, was it?" He grabbed the cup from Asher and took a long sip followed by a content ahhhh. "Thanks."

He hadn't noticed quite how shaken his brother was until now. "Remind me to rile you up like that again then." He laughed again, this time with more energy. He took another sip, emptying the cup and setting it on the nearby end table.

Rivain stood again, walking to the window where he stopped and stared outside. "I'm alright, promise. Forgot how fuckin strange my dreams get when knocked out. Not that it happens often." He ruffled his brother's hair and wiped the sweaty hand on his pants. "Are you sure you are okay?" He looked down at Asher, a brow raised and arms crossed.

"It happens, Ash." He tried to reassure him, noticing the way his tanned skin paled in the dimly lit house. "Don't beat yourself up over it." His pat his brother hard on the arm. "Come on, you hungry? I'm starving."

 

[Asher]

His jaw tightened at the mention of his father. He'd be anything but happy about Ash besting Rivain, his favourite son.

Ash couldn’t help but let out a small huff at his brother's comment. “Yeah, first time. Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though there was no heat behind the words. He glanced at Rivain as he downed the water and rambled on, the tension in his own shoulders easing ever so slightly. Of course Riv would make light of all this.

But when Rivain walked to the window, Ash caught the way his brother stopped and stared outside for just a second too long. The lighthearted banter hadn’t fooled him. Not entirely. Something about the way Rivain had been knocked out, the strange dreams he mentioned—it gnawed at Ash.

He flinched slightly when Rivain ruffled his hair, the familiar gesture wasn’t enough to chase the unease sitting heavy in his chest. He couldn’t shake it.

"I’m fine," he lied, his voice too quick and tight. His jaw clenched slightly as Rivain crossed his arms and gave him that concerned look. Why’s he asking if I’m okay? I’m the one who nearly— He cut the thought off, staring out at the trees again. His fingers tapped restlessly on the armrest of the chair.

“Yeah, it happens,” Ash echoed, though the words felt hollow. The pat on his arm brought him back into the moment, and he stood, clearing his throat and dragging a hand down his clammy face.

He couldn't summon an appetite if he tried. "Nah.. You eat." he forced a smile and offered a return pat to Rivain's shoulder. "I'll take a walk."

 

[Rivain]

"Mhm..." Rivain assessed his brother, noting the way his shoulders stiffened, jaw clenched as he spoke. Seven hundred twenty seven years, and he still thought he could avoid telling his brother the truth. Rivain's eyes squinted ever so slightly as if he were trying to see through whatever veil his brother had constructed to hide what had him so on edge.

Declining food was certainly one way to state I am hiding something from you. Ash had never declined a home cooked meal.

"I'll have something ready for when you return." He smiled as Ash stood and watched him make to leave. "Father seems to be running late as well, perhaps the two of you can share a meal later on then." Rivain wished the pair of them got on as well as he and his father did, but realized a couple hundred years prior that it would likely never be the case. Still, he would make the rare attempt to force them to have a pleasant interaction. Had it ever gone well? No, but Rivain was a dreamer. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

 

[Vespera]

The longer she spent in Merenor's house, the more suffocating the rooms felt. Her chest tightened, wall closing in around her. Every room she passed whispered of the memories she had of him. The only person who had ever wanted her. The person who had left her all alone. She couldn't face the memories, not tonight. Her breathing quickened, heart racing, blood rushing in her ears. It was too heavy, too thick with grief.

She needed to get out. Now.

Vespera pushed open the heavy front door and stepped out into the night air, still thick with humidity. It had cooled slightly but was still pleasantly warm unlike the boiling sun that plagued the Elderglen during the daytime. The moon was out, full and bright, illuminating the forest and filtering through the dense leaves. Unlike the sun, which bathed the land in gold, the ground was now pale.

Her boots crunched softly on the forest floor, no longer on the worn paths that had been carved from centuries of footsteps. The home grew smaller behind her as she moved until it was swallowed by darkness.

Vespera shut her eyes, following her own path she knew as well as herself. Heavy breaths mingled with the sounds of the forest- insects chirping as they were disturbed, the wind as it whistled through the trees. Her own thoughts threatened to overtake her, fighting for dominance in her mind and heart. Grief. Loneliness. She wished she could find solace in her home, but it only made her feel more lost with each passing day.

The trees opened up, revealing a tranquil body of water nestled deep in the forest. Silver light mirrored on the water's smooth surface. She stopped at the edge, watching as the moon and stars reflected over her own image. For a while, she just stood there and stared, watching as her own face could not maintain the façade of whatever she was trying to be.

Strong? Brave? Pathetic.

When she could no longer tolerate her own reflection, when she could see the path tears formed on her cheeks, she turned away and made to find a quiet place to sit and think and maybe, just maybe, get some fucking rest.

 

[Asher]

Ash barely hid the sneer curling on his lips when Rivain mentioned their father, the bitterness swelling up in his throat. “Yeah.. That sounds like a real pleasant time.” His tone was sharp, mocking. He turned away from Rivain, not wanting his brother to see the heat rising in his face. His father’s name alone was enough to drag him back into the pit of anger he had barely managed to crawl out of.

The man who treated him like a failure at best, was the last person Ash wanted to think about right now. Rivain's desperate attempts to bridge the gap between Ash and their father were almost laughable. He didn’t understand. Rivain didn’t know what it was like to live in the shadow of that man’s expectations, constantly measured against a standard Ash could never meet. No, Rivain would never get it. He’d always been the golden son, the one who could do no wrong.

"I’ll pass," Ash said quietly. "Thanks for the offer." Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, the door creaking shut behind him.

As soon as he was outside, he sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air. The weight in his chest eased slightly, but the anger still simmered just below the surface. His boots carried him through the woods without much thought, following a path he knew well—the one that led to the moonlit lake. The place where he could escape the suffocating walls of his home, the memories, the expectations.

The forest felt alive around him, the whispers of leaves and soft rustle of branches filling the silence. The moons hung low, their silver glow washing over everything in sight, casting the woods in an eerie, dreamlike light. It was quiet here, peaceful in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

When he reached the lake, the sight of the still water reflecting the moon and stars brought a rare sense of calm over him. The surface was perfectly smooth, undisturbed by the chaos that raged inside him. He stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection. Pale skin, sharp, tired eyes, silver hair tousled by the night breeze, the curse written on his face—he barely recognised himself anymore. He felt like a stranger in his own body, weighed down by everything he couldn’t be. Everything his father wanted him to be.

With a sigh, he undressed, peeling off the layers of clothing one by one. He dropped them carelessly on the grass, the cool night air brushing against his skin.

He stepped into the water slowly, the cold hitting him like a shock, jolting him from the haze in his mind. But he welcomed it, wading further until the water reached his waist, his chest, his shoulders. And then, without hesitation, he dipped beneath the surface, letting the cool darkness envelop him completely.

Underneath the water, everything was quiet. Peaceful. There were no expectations here, no anger or guilt, no disapproval. Just the stillness, the cold, and the darkness.

He stayed under as long as his lungs would allow, and then just a little longer, savoring the momentary escape from the weight that pressed down on him every second of every day. Only when his lungs were screaming for air did he breach the surface again, choking on his greedy breaths.