DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except the OCs. Elyon's surrogate mother and natural mother have been arbitrarily renamed because I couldn't remember their actual names.

This chapter is quite fluffy.

Flame me all you want, I'm fireproof.

Enjoy!

News of her freeing the usurper from his prison was the talk of the court for the following weeks. Some of the courtiers thought it was a sign of weakness, that she had let her sentiments overrule her judgement and some others thought it was a display of self-assuredness and strength, as if by doing so she was claiming that she didn't fear him and that she had tamed him for good. Both parties frantically tried to factor in Adhara's fall in disgrace and plots and counterplots were hatched. Elyon felt like everybody had ulterior motives in dealing with her, and most had. One wanted more land, another a post at court for his or her heir, a third a commercial concession. She was not a person, but a moody cash machine to be flattered and appeased to obtain favours. When Cedric had told her that she was a princess, a moment that felt ages ago, she had not imagined this.
Now that Adhara was gone, now that she had sent her away, she had none in whom she could confide, none to advise her and counsel her. Most of the time, Elyon felt like she was making a fool out of herself and desperately whished someone had given her a manual on how to survive this.
Ruling, however, was not her only preoccupation. She had vowed that she would keep Phobos alive and healthy or at least that she would give him comfort as he faded away, which still was a possibility, and to do so, she had spent evenings locked away in the vast royal library, perusing old tomes of magic and history.
Her readings had left her with an even bleaker image of her kingdom. Apparently, in older times, the male offspring of the Queen were killed in the crib, lest they became sorcerers, which could happen even if they didn't have a magic-using father as Phobos did. It was only in later times that they were allowed to live, under surveillance, and killed only if they manifested any magical attitude at all. Severing came into practice later still and, apparently, had been done much more frequently than she had thought. The historians particularly commended Queen Candice, who had severed her own brother at the tender age of fifteen. Interestingly, though, prince Aloys had survived to an old age and had apparently borne no ill will to his cruel sister, becoming her most devoted knight.
Her family's history, rife as it was with tales of cruelty and prejudice, was horrible enough, but, apparently, commoners, as Cedric must have been, had it even worse. Very few made it to court to be severed. Most of them were killed by enraged mobs. Stoning seemed to be a favourite execution technique.
Books about magic were marginally more useful. They detailed the theory of severing and the effects on the severed person: loss of interest to pleasurable activities, loss of appetite, sleepiness, catatonia, depression, suicidal tendencies and finally death. The survival figures were appalling: most of the severed died within six months and only two out of a hundred lived to the fifth year.
There was no cure for it. The only thing that could relieve their suffering would be to find a new pursuit to distract them from the pain or, as the authoresses wrote "to wean them from the addiction". Manual labour was deemed especially effective for its character-building properties.
None of the books explained why male magic users were evil by default, probably because there was no rational explanation.

It had been another dreadful day. Elyon felt like crying. She had to contend with courtiers about stupid privileges while out there people complained about the price of bread. She felt like she needed comfort, but she had no one who would give her any. She sighed and shook her head. She had to be strong, to be comforting, a mother for her people. She couldn't afford weakness.
Silently, she slipped into her brother's chamber. This had become their evening ritual. Every day, after holding court, she would slip into his chambers and talk to him until late. At the beginning he had been very stiff and circumspect, but, gradually, he had started to relax around her, to allow himself to be comfortable and Elyon could understand why many people had been charmed by him. Even now that he was melancholy and depressed, he was still charming and witty and he seemed to liven up when she was with him. In a better world, he would have been a great older brother.
He was sitting in a monumental, old-fashioned armchair, staring out of the window into the garden below. A plate of food, almost untouched, rested on a table at his elbow.
"You have eaten almost nothing again…" she scolded gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.
This seemed to break him from his reverie. "Elyon… - he said softly, turning to look at her – I think I have forgotten about it again. – he looked quite sheepish as he said so - But you look exhausted. Come, sit here." he stood from the chair and all but pushed her into it, standing next to her.
For once Elyon didn't protest. She was physically and mentally drained.
"What happened?" he asked, concerned. Ever since she took him out of prison, he had always been gentle and attentive with her as he had been when she first met him, but while that had been a farce spurred by fear and suspicion, this was real, this was his brother as he would have been if he had not been hurt so much by their mother. It was amazing how his eyes lost that forlorn look when he was concerned with her welfare.
"It is the courtiers. – she replied wearily - They are the most horrible bunch of self-centred assholes in the whole world, honest." she blurted out, rather unladylike.
Phobos chuckled. "Girls on Earth have the most interesting vocabulary, – he said lightly – but you are right about it. They only care about themselves and would do almost anything to increase their privileges."
"Sometimes I wish I could tell them to shut up and get the hell away from me." she confessed.
Phobos smiled. "You should threaten to blast them apart." he advised.
Elyon gave him a disbelieving look.
"It worked for me." he said shrugging.
"Did you blast any of them for real?" she asked, interested.
"Just a few." he laughed and Elyon laughed with him, feeling slightly better.
"Seriously. I wish I had someone to help me through this. I can't make it alone." she sighed.
Phobos kneeled next to the chair and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You will, sister. You are stronger than you think."
Elyon looked into his eyes and sighed again. "Would you help me?" she said, without thinking, but, even as she thought about it, she realized that it would be a good idea. He was nothing but politically shrewd and maybe this would help him out of his depression.
His eyes widened. "You can't mean it…" he said softly.
"I do. – she replied – Why?"
He stood up and moved away from her in a blink, only for his head to spin from the suddenness of the movement. He leaned on another chair for support and breathed deeply. He was still very weak.
"It would be political suicide, Elyon. – he managed to say – I am the enemy. You are already risking it by showing so much care for me, by visiting me every day. You'd better leave me alone, ignore me."
"Would you rather I didn't come anymore?" she asked softly and sadly. She had thought he had grown as fond of her as she had of him.
Phobos shook his head and closed his eyes. "Gods, no. - he breathed – Sometimes I think that your visits are the only thing that keeps me barely sane. But that's not about me, it is about you. You need to be selfish sometimes, Elyon."
Elyon sighed and stood up from the armchair, walking to him and all but dragging him bodily to sit down. "This chair is big enough for both and you are unwell." she said and sat next to him, snuggling close. He was very thin and bony but it felt good to sit next to him like this. At first, he sat rigid as a board, but he gradually relaxed enough to put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close.
"They need not know it. – she whispered – Please, I need help and you need purpose."
Phobos sighed and petted her hair. "I have grown to love you too much to say yes, Elyon. – he replied and her heart missed a beat at his words – You saved me, you forgave me and the least I can do is keep you safe, even from yourself."
Elyon grabbed the lapels of his tunic and buried her face in his chest. "I love you too, Phobos. Please, I cannot bear to see you fade away."
Phobos hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. "I will try my best to resist, little sister, but it is so very hard… I feel empty, as if nothing matters."
"Nothing at all?" she asked, lifting her head to look into his eyes.
Phobos smiled gently. "You do, little sister. –he replied – I know it sounds strange, I was trying to kill you not three months ago, but you are the only person to show me kindness now that I am so weak, even if it would have been your right to be cruel. It used to irk me, but now it soothes me. You make me feel a person and not a remnant."
"Would you like to stay in the garden, tomorrow?" she asked, feeling all fuzzy and warm inside from his words. "I remember that you liked it."
His eyes widened. "It would be good to stay in the sun after all this time. But are you sure about this? Are you not afraid that I would escape?" he asked.
"Would you?" she retorted, smiling.
"Why should I? – he said cynically – What is there for me, out there?"
Elyon looked at him with a slightly wounded expression and he rolled his eyes.
"Damn you, Elyon. Why do you do this to me? – he asked – I will not go because of you. Happy now?"
Elyon nodded and snuggled close to him again. "So, shall I join you in the garden tomorrow?" she asked.
"I would like it very much, little sister." he admitted.
Elyon looked outside. It was already very dark. She sighed. "So… I will see you tomorrow." she said, and tried to disentangle herself from him. Not that she really wanted to go. She liked to relax with him, to hold him close, and she knew he needed it, but she had to catch some sleep. Tomorrow would be as exhausting as today.
"Do you need to go already?" Phobos asked softly, reflexively tightening his hold on her.
Elyon nodded. "I need to sleep, unfortunately." she said, stifling a yawn.
"I see." he sighed and let her go.
Elyon stood up and went to the door. He followed her, looking dejectedly at the ground.
"Goodnight, Elyon." he said when she was already on the threshold.
"Goodnight, Phobos." she replied over her shoulder and closed the door behind her, replacing the magical lock.
Alone in the chamber, Phobos let himself slide to the floor against the wood.

Later that night, Elyon was awoken by a tortured scream. Without thinking, she jumped from her bed and rushed to the door in her nightgown. She was at his brother's door in a matter of seconds and she opened the door without second thoughts.
Phobos was thrashing on the bed, clad only in a pair of loose pyjama trousers and half-entangled in the bedclothes, in the throes of some horrible nightmare. She ran to the bed and held him down by the shoulders. "It is alright, I'm here. It's over, it's over…" she whispered and, finally, he woke up, confused and still terrified.
"Elyon… - he gasped after a second of incomprehension, fighting for breath – What are you doing here?"
Elyon smiled reassuringly. "You were having a nightmare. I just came to check on you." she said, forcing herself to be cheerful, even if she was quite worried. She knew he had nightmares, but that had been worse than anything so far.
"I am sorry I woke you up, little sister. –he said apologetically – It has passed now. You can go back to sleep." he tried to put up a brave face, but it was quite clear that he was still terrified by whatever he had dreamed.
"Nonsense. – she replied – I will stay here until I'm certain you feel better. Do you think you could go back to sleep?"
"I-I can try." said Phobos, looking at her with wonder and gratitude.
"Do not look at me like this. It is perfectly normal to reassure people after they had a nightmare." she said, but he gave her a sad look. Elyon should have imagined that their mother wouldn't have been the type to reassure unwanted male offspring when they had nightmares.
"Scoot over." she ordered and he obeyed, leaving space enough for her to lie down, but when she did so he almost fell off the bed in surprise.
"What are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.
"You need to sleep and so do I and if you start having nightmares again I will have to come over to check on you again and I won't be able to sleep. This is just practical. – she explained –Siblings do this all the time on Earth. And sure as hell I'm not sleeping on the armchair."
"If you say so…" he said, dubious, and scooted as far as possible from her.
"I do. Now go back to sleep." she retorted grumpily, closing her eyes.
Phobos sighed but couldn't help but obey.

Even if they had started the night as far as possible, the following morning Elyon awoke with her head on his shoulder and her arm flung across his bare chest. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him. He was warm and smelled like green, growing things. Why did it feel so good to wake up like this?
"Good morning, Elyon…" Phobos whispered gently, brushing strands of hair from her face.
Instinctively, she purred in pleasure. "Good morning. – she replied, looking up at him – Did you sleep well?"
Phobos sighed. "Very much so, little sister. Thank you." For some reason, his voice sounded wistful as he thanked her.
"I have to go, now, before someone notices." she said. They had done nothing wrong, but the courtiers loved to gossip.
She propped herself on an elbow and gazed into his eyes. As usual when she was around, they were not empty and hollow, but they shone with some barely tamed emotion.
"Will you be alright, today?" she asked gently.
"Not worse than usual." he replied, rolling off the bed and grabbing a tunic. For a moment Elyon caught herself staring at him while he dressed and then she averted her gaze, stifling a blush. He might be her brother, but he was beautiful and she had eyes to see, she rationalized.
"You promised you would join me in the garden, later." he said.
"I will, sure thing." she replied, getting off the bed and hoping that her nightgown was not too transparent or revealing.
"Is this goodbye, then?" he asked.
Elyon nodded and went to the door, but she turned back with her hand on the handle. Phobos was standing next to the bed, still looking at her with that oddly intense gaze. She shivered lightly, probably from the cold, against which her nightgown was no great protection. She took a deep breath and flung herself out of the room, closing the door behind her.
For some reason, saying goodbye was becoming more difficult every time.