I am so sorry that I was not able to post a chapter last week. This one was a tricky one to write and I hope to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. Keep reading and I cannot wait to hear what you all have to say.

"Remember, Mystique," I turned back to my mother as she passed down the halls. He back was to me when she said, "You have a dress fitting at seven."

I let out a sigh, "I know." She disappeared out of sight and into another hall. "I know."

I gripped the handle of the door and pushed it open. The rich scents of food filled the air. My steps were slow as I made my way to Lucian's meal. A maid stood over, putting in some of the finishing touches.

"Here."

The maid looked up, a puzzled look on her face.

"You have done plenty. I will take care of the rest of it."

She gave a nod. She curtsied and walked away. She paused at the door and took a glance back at me. I gave her an assuring nod and she finally me alone.

He has not sat at the table since that last meal. Since then we have left him to eat in bed. He has his meal brought to his bed.

Since Caroline was fired, Jonathan wanted for his brother to eat at the table. I talked him out of it though, reminding him that Lucian needs to recover completely before we can take any chances like that. Centered in the middle of the tray was a bowl of shredded chicken. A mix of rice, pulled pork, reds, yellows, and greens were stirred in with it. A spicy vinaigrette had been sprinkled on top. Beside it was a glass of glistening grape cider.

It was one of his favorite meals. He has always gotten it for his every birthday since he was five. Father made sure that it was the only day he got it. Father always said that favorites should be saved for very important days, and what is more important for him then the awakening of a Goldblood.

I had made sure that he would get this meal today. All great things should end how they started.

I gave the dish a sniff. Knowing my brother, I grabbed the bottled of vinaigrette and drizzled on a little more.

When I was sure that the kitchen was empty, I opened the jar I had been hiding in my hand. Tilting it over, I tapped in a good amount. I stirred it in until I couldn't see it anymore. I did the same with his cider, watching the white crystals disappear.

After I put my powder away, I picked it up and was out of the kitchen.

The halls were pretty empty. No heartbeat was in a range close enough to hear, let alone a breath. I took my time with the steps, feeling as each one grasped my foot and reluctantly let go.

The halls had shrunk by the time I reached the final step. The air was thick and itched at my skin.

I tried to force it away. That just made it worse.

The halls silence seemed to echo.

I reached the end of the hall. My shoulder bumped the corner as I made the turn.

Something fell. There was no shatter, just a loud thump.

This was not the first time I had heard that noise.

I sped past the hall. I could not go to fast though since I still had the tray. I could see every detail as I sped down two halls and finally reached his room. I grabbed the doorknob and forced it open.

"Lucian!"

He was lying on the floor. His arms shook, trembling as they tried to push away from the ground.

I placed the tray on his nightstand and knelt down beside him.

"I thought I already told you," I began "You are not allowed to walk. It is not safe."

"This is not fair!" He whined, "I cannot take it anymore. I am sick of living like a prisoner."

"I know it is not fair. I hate doing this as much as you do, but it is out of our hands."

"Will I ever walk again?" He asked.

"I…" I what? I am sorry? I cannot let that happen? I did this to you? "I am not sure," He was about to cut in, but I did not let him, "But if you try to walk now you could risk never walking again." His head fell with a weight far beyond his years, "If you would like, I can get you another book-"

"No! I am sick of books. I am sick of this!" His fist slammed into a pillow. "I am sick of being trapped in this stupid bed. I am sick of living like… like this! I admit, it was nice at first but I hate it! I am sick of this place! I am sick of everything!" Something in him shut down, a new kind of bitter flame taking its place. His voice was tired, worn.

"Shh," I pulled him close. His head fell on my shoulder. The fabric beneath it grew damp with tears. "It is ok." I scooped my one arm under his knees, the other under his neck. He was a lot lighter than I expected. Not as light as a toddler, but close enough. I walked to his bed, being careful as I set him back down.

I knelt down, his eyes straining as they met mine.

"I want to get better. I want this to just be dead and gone already. I cannot take it anymore."

"I know," I sighed, "I know it's a hard battle," My eyes had to look away, "But you are a lot stronger than your brother gives you credit for. You should not need to fight it too much longer."

I barely heard as he forced out a breath. "I hope so."

I looked back up. His eyes were hollow, lost wherever they had gone. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I had to say something. My eyes wandered the room. Anything.

The tray.

"Hey," He looked up, "I brought you something."

"I told you I did not want anything."

"Trust me," I said, helping him sit up "You will love this." I reached over and placed the tray on his lap.

"Chicken Potpourri!"

"Yes," smiling as his eyes lit up, "I made sure they made it just how you like it."

Staring into the dish, he let out a mesmerized hum. Just as he was about to pick up his fork, he looked up, his smile gone. "But it is not my birthday."

"That does not matter." I said, "You deserve it."

He turned, nearly knocking over his tray. My hand caught it just as his arms wrapped around my neck.

"Thank you, missy. You are the best sis ever."

Something flinched in my stomach. Water blurred my sight. "You are welcome."

I blinked the white back into my eyes just as he let go.

He did not notice. He was too focused on his tray.

He let out a childish gasp, "Is that grape cider?"

I could not help but laugh, "Of course," I chuckled, feeling a gulp, "You deserve nothing but the best."

He grabbed the glass. My breath froze, its air filling into the back of my head. My hand flinched up.

My other hand held it down. He pressed the glass to his lips. I shut my eyes. I could barely hear as he took a big gulp. The sound of it crushing my skull.

"Something wrong, missy?

I opened my eyes. He held the glass loosely in his hand, it was an inch less than it had been when they were open before. "I," my spine shivered, rattling my tenseness. I dug my hand into the hardwood below me. "Nothing, I am fine."

He nodded, poking his fork into his food and taking a bite. He managed to get six bites before he took a sip of his drink. After eight, the color left his face. After eleven, I grabbed the half full bucket and held it up for him. The noise was unbearable. It felt like an eternity until he finished. An eternity later and I put it back down, not letting go of the rim.

He grabbed his fork.

"It is ok, you do not need to finish."

"But it is so good." He another bite to his mouth. I saw the lump as he forced it down his throat.

He hand trembled as he took the next bite. He went down for another one. His hand continued to shake. It fell. He eyes grew wide.

I grabbed the bucket and heard as it caught the noise again.

"Do not," I said once he was finished, "You do not need to."

"But-"

"Please!" I begged, "You are just hurting yourself."

His look made me freeze. I felt the warm drop trace over my cheek.

"Ok," He moved, pushing the tray aside him, "I will stop."

I took a while before I picked it up and put it on his dresser.

"You know what?" I finally said. He looked up, his eyes pleading me to continue, "Remember when you told me that I would make a good king?"

"Yeah."

"Well I have been thinking about it, and I think I know someone else who would make for an even better one."

"Really? Who?"

I reached my hand forward and tapped his nose. "You."

He gave me a look like I had just told him that the grass is blue and the sky is green.

"I am serious," I continued, "You possess all of the elements that make a good king. You are well grounded. Your mindset can shift as easily as the sand. Your mind is more pure than water and your movements are just as slick. You are as swift and nimble as sand, yet strong enough to take whatever comes at you and still remain on your feet. Your mind is very bright. Fire glows in your heart and glows through you even though you can still keep enough control on it so it does not take control. Not only that, but you have a free, noble spirit that is more wise and truer than that of the gods.

He let out a giggle, "I think you just described someone else."

"Oh did I?" He nodded. I held out my hand. "Agree to disagree?" I asked.

He held his little hand in mine and gave it a shake. "Deal."

Something changed in his eyes. His eyes had their own kind of power. Nothing like Jonathan's. His power came from rage, fury, a hunger for control. Lucian's were something else. A pale green instead or his brother's red. His were a sweet bitterness that paused everything. Everything would stand still for too long that you cannot help but notice. Wordless questions fill the air. You want to answer, but cannot. You second guess things. You second guess everything.

Second guessing, the words ringed in my head. With enough time, I am sure he could win a battle Jonathan never could.

"Am I going to end up like Father?" He asked.

My eyes lost his and moved to the window. Something itched at the back of my eyes, but I blinked it away.

When I finally looked back, he was staring at me patiently, watching me. I ran my hand through his mud brown hair. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He was about to say something, but I held a finger to his lips. "Go to sleep. Night is coming."

With a slight nod, he let his head sink into his pillow.

As he started to close his eyes. I did not leave until his face relaxed and his heart stopped.