Everything Personal

Over three years had passed since her Majesty took to the throne. The land had flourished beautifully; flowers bloomed, trees grew green and tall, animals and people ran freely, and a peace had become the kingdom in a way which had never been seen before. Ever since the Princess herself grew into the beautiful woman that Albion knew her to be, everything around her improved and shone. She had maintained her countries safety with the wealth of her earnings, and at the same time kept them content enough with low taxes and love.

The Queen. She sat quietly, content, besides a roaring fire. She held a wine glass, gently between her fingertips, wiping the side of the cup with her thumb, watching the liquid it held sway from side to side. She studied the red liquid silently, her eyelids batting slowly as she breathed with a calm demeanour. Her fingertips drummed on the armrest of the silk pink chair, she let her hands feel the subtle embroidery of the décor, and her mind settled. She was calm, she was happy. She had ruled her country well.

A few knocks at her quarters' door. She turned, looked at the doorway, and said calmly;

"You may enter,"

There was a pause, and the door opened wide. In its wake stood Logan. His black hair slicked against his skull and his stance tall and proud. His whole attire hindered only by the scar which loitered his face, across his lip. He cleared his throat defiantly.

"Sister... Your Majesty," he said with no emotion, "I come to ask of your favours,"

She blinked, the spidery beginnings of a smile leeching at the corners of her mouth. A warm aura developing slowly in her eyes.

"Logan, hello," She greeted, setting her wine glass down on a decorative wooden table, "Of course, brother, what do you need?"

His head lowered slowly, no response was heard. He stepped forward, closed the tall beech door behind him and rested against it. He sighed and closed his eyes for a long time. Curiosity grew in his sisters heart and she stood slowly.

"Logan, are you okay? What do you need?"

Logan opened his eyes, his piercing pupils darting over to his standing sister. A smirk wavered against his lips, and his head lowered again. He stood away from the door and then closer to his younger sibling. The sibling who took his role away from him, and was effectively driving away the dark tyranny he created.

"Help."

"Help?

"Yes, sister,"

"... Help with what, exactly?"

Logan sighed irritably, trying this time to not create eye contact.

"I am frowned upon. I ruined this society, or I did. Before you rebuilt it from the ashes I had left it smouldering in. No-one wants my presence, and before I result myself to something far more drastic than this, I need to know. Help me regain the renown of my old Kingdom? I want to hear the children cheer as I pass them, the inhabitants of Aurora to smile at me; forgetting the promise I broke to them those years ago. Even after everything I did, and everything you fixed in my wake, they still despise me,"

Her heart twisted, leaping effortlessly as she bit her lip hard. She could feel the sorrow and pain ebbing from his body, connecting them through the bloodline they shared. With a slow sigh, she moved towards him, wrapping her arms around his body and trapping his hands by his side. He flinched, breath caught in his lungs, but after a few seconds a sweet relaxation flooded him. Prying his arms free, he hugged his younger sister closely, her fair hair pressed against his cheek.

Pulling away, the Queen smiled gently. She took note of his pale skin, his dark, deep eyes, and the love that was missing from them. He needed this; recognition. He needed some salvation from the hole he had gradually dug himself. There was no way he could do this alone, no way that anybody would look at him in a different light from what they remembered.

"Well then..." She said quietly, her voice the only other noise opposed to the crackling of the log fire behind them both. The warmth of it gently flowing up her back and shoulders, making her shiver at the contrast from the cold which Logan somehow managed to emit, "If you want this, it shall happen. I make that a promise to you, brother."

Almost wryly, Logan laughed;

"I know you will keep your promise. Like you did to the rest of your kingdom, like I could not. I'm putting my faith in you little sister, or whatever ounce of it remains, anyway."

Crudely, she smirked. She knew she'd done a better job as a monarch than he did, she knew he was jealous. But, nevertheless, it didn't ever become the better of her. Even though his poor attempt at supremacy failed, she was determined to help his ego grow, and the love of her kingdom could slowly gather in his veins, like it was meant too.

"Come on then," She cooed, looking him up and down, "If you want to be seen as a brighter person, you may aswell start dressing like one. Lead me to your chambers, brother,"

"Very well," Logan nodded, turning briskly and opening the door for both himself and his sister.

In silence, they walked, turning the many corners which connected the many corridors within the castle, until they reached a large, dark set of doors, laden with a kingly red and gold materials which hadn't been removed since Logan's rein. He turned his nose up to the dressings and pushed the door open.

A waft of scent passed over the pair; of which smelt natural to Logan, but was slightly unfamiliar to his sister. It was potent, not entirely in a bad way, and was manly. It had that prudent musk to it that only a man could achieve, and heightened the Queen's curiosity further. Only now had she realised that she'd never actually stepped inside Logan's quarters. This was an entirely new experience for her.

She let her gaze wander around his room, although reasonably tidy, there were clothes strewn around here and there, books left opened on tables and floors, and burnt out candles with their icicle-resembling melted wax planted lifelessly on the bleak walls, trailing down the wall.

Looking over to his bed, she noticed it was the tidiest part of the room. The sheets were a woven dark blue and black silk, embroidery dotting here and there in swirling patterns. He had numerous pillows, piling high at the top half of the bed, proving a comfortable looking retire for the night.

The female monarch cleared her throat worriedly; this was the first time she'd been here, and without fail, she hadn't felt this aware and almost scared, at all in her life. Even when they were children, and Logan had a different chamber room and she used to play with him in there; before he was forced to the throne. When he was actually her brother.

She may call him that; brother. But she knows deep down that he will never be the brother she used to know. The darkness corrupted him and left him with an internal scar which can never be changed. His heart was squeezed of the loving, happy emotions everyone needs to function, and was replaced by a sinister and smoke-churning machine; a revelation to the industrial era that Logan ruled us into.

Snapping back into reality, the queen had noticed that Logan had wandered to the other side of the room. Beside his window. Watching, in sad awe, the Queen held back. She watched helplessly as Logan placed a single palm on his window, and stared out across his sisters kingdom. The world which he so desperately wanted to leave behind. He wanted to start fresh. There was no way anyone in this day and age who would ever recognise him as a nicer person – he was always going to be that tyrant that Albion was glad to be rid of. He was never going to get the sweet salvation he needed; friends, love, respect. Things that were just too far out of his grasp for him to want to chase, there was no point in trying.

With a tight inhale, Logan turned to his sister. Standing, all pompous in her royal attire, she looked fantastic, as any true monarch should. He was jealous, it was true, but at the same time he was thankful. Any more of his time on the throne and he knew that something worse than fate would have happened, the Crawler would have destroyed Albion and there would have been nothing Logan could do about it. He'd just sit on his throne, protected by his personal army, and watched as his kingdom and his 'followers' died horribly and painfully. Blinking slowly, he looked his younger sibling up and down, she'd grown into a real woman these past few years and there was nothing he could do about it.

He never flourished as she did, he merely curled deeper and deeper into a darkness he couldn't get out of. A pit, almost.

"Do you think..." Logan said quietly, so quiet and gritty that his sister had to strain her hearing in order to catch what he said, "... Do you think," he repeated, "that my kingdom would ever take me back?" He raised his head slowly and let his arms fall from behind his back to his side, his fists clamped together tightly.

"I've not ever been respected. The only hope I saw in the eyes of my Kingdom was when I took the throne at 15. But then, I was a child. Such a child that I knew not the importance of that respect. I abused it, I challenged it, tried to see how much I could loose without decreasing the profits of my wealth. I was an idiot, and I know for one thing that nothing I do will change that. I will always be the imbecile this country is trying in vain to forget. They will forget what I did, but they will never forget me. I will continuously be spat at in the streets and forced to not want to leave this very castle."

Struck back with such words, the Queen stuttered slightly. She was almost convinced to hug her elder brother again, but thought against it as it may be odd to hug him twice in one day after years and years of not doing so.

"Logan," she whispered softly, holding a silk gloved hand to her mouth and inhaling shakily. She'd never seen someone so torn. She wanted to help, but from how he was speaking to her, it seemed inevitable that she could do nothing. "Logan, don't..."

"No, no..." Logan said, emotionless, "You understand me. You surely agree."

"I don't want to defy what you're saying, but it can be changed,"

He paused, "You did make that promise,"

She smiled, "Yes, I did. You know what I'm like with my promises, brother. I keep them and I fulfil them. You will gain the good recognition that you want and deserve. You've served your time in sadness and worry, you should be the most worthy of redemption, if any."

For the first real time in years, Logan cracked a grin. Not just the thin wispy smirk that he always used to throw around, but a wide, toothy smile.

"I will hold you to that, my Queen,"

The streets of Bowerstone were quiet, this one morning. The birds were distant, gone. The clouds in the sky were gone also, disappearing off in the distance. And from the East rose the sun, the dawn was breaking. Orange flairs of light and warmth darted across the bright blue sky, landing across the hills and houses that surrounded and inhabited Bowerstone. The morning had sprung cleanly and people were barely awake. Groggily stepping from their beds with their loved ones, children curled between them or otherwise jumping on their beds to wake them up.

The first bird, tweeting proudly, atop one of the market stalls. It happily sung its song of the morning, then fluttered away in fright as the first of the stall holders shoved down their pots of collection money on their stands, and started setting out their ware. Oblivious to the nature they had just unsettled.

"Do you think that this will really work," came a voice from the shadows. It was Logan, and he sounded as distressed as any. He was slyly peeking around the corner of Bowerstone storage, looking down the pathway which opened up into the courtyard market. He sighed and took a step back, turning to the only other person around and repeating himself, although with doubt; "This is not going to work."

"Trust me!" The Queen smiled, licking her thumb and wiping some dirt from Logan's cheek that he acquired from leaning against the dewy wet bark of the storage room, "I'll go with you so they have no reason to fear,"

Logan laughed deeply, sarcastically. No reason to fear, of course, since if he were alone he'd merely be shouted at and people would get frightened. Made sense.

"Let's get this over and done with,"

Through the shadows, the couple slunk, around corners of buildings and eventually, they stood on the border to the market. Still in the darkness the surrounding houses created. The sunlight was bare metres in-front of them, and taking one step-forward would reveal both Logan and the Queen to the people who now bustled through the marketplace. Logan's throat felt tight, his hands clammy, and he was worrying the more he thought about it. The inhabitants would never surely take him back.

"Just remember what I told you," The Queen whispered in his ear, before shoving him at the base of the back, sending him sprawling, alone, into the centre of the marketplace. Literally everybody stopped their daily routine and stared at him. Children stopped laughing, shoppers stopped haggling, and a dog cowered slightly and stopped barking. It was as if time had been paused merely for Logan's entrance. He hated it.

His sister was meant to accompany him, in order to stop this very thing from happening. He looked around quickly and saw her slinking past her bewildered subjects in the shadows. Then, she pushed through them casually so it looked like she had just walked down from the castle itself, not from the shadows of the regular buildings. She smiled broadly, opening her arms and stepping towards her brother,

"My my, Logan!" She cooed, caressing him into a tight embrace, "What a lovely change to see you down here with my people,"

Silence was still surrounding them, and the Queen cleared her throat awkwardly. There was so much silence it was as if it were still the dead of the night and not the spark of the morning.

"Miss," a small hand tugged at the lace of the queens dress, and she looked down to see a thin young child, eyes large and mouth small, with ashy blonde hair and piercing green irises, "Miss that man is scary,"

Her Majesty laughed and bent to eye level with the child, leaving Logan to squander under the hawk-like stares of all the members of Bowerstone. They seemed silently enraged.

"No no, my young child, this man is my brother, Logan. He is not scary at all," she turned to her older sibling and smiled, "Are you, brother?"

With a slightly pause, Logan forced a smile, it looked good enough for this child to pass as real, and he said, "Yes, young one, I'm no threat, I'm just here to marvel over my sisters success and try to help out the people of Bowerstone,"

"Oh!" The blonde haired boy cried, "That's good then! Can I have an autograph? Pleeaaase?"

Logan cackled slightly, then bent down also to eye level with the child, the Queen stood up and went to make idle conversation with one of her confused subjects who she knew personally, explaining the plot. The subject smiled heartily and nodded a few times.

"Here you go," Logan said quietly, handing the boy a piece of paper which he had just scrawled his name onto, "Be good,"

"I promise, Mr Queen's sister!" The boy giggled, turning and skipping with his arm held high, waving around his signature proudly.

This was a start, Logan slowly realised. Not only had one of the younger generation changed to understand his newer, better ways, but this meant that the older ones would recognise his change in a much subtler way. A way which will hopefully spread around Albion.

He'd made his mark in Bowerstone Market, and as he stood slowly, looking with as gentle a stare as any to all the people that stood somewhat bewildered around him, he smiled. Some people made no change, some grew the slightest bit angry, but what made Logan smile more, was that a good few of them smiled back.