Author's Note: You know what my first reaction to the Big Reveal in Chapter 15 was? "Man, it's a good thing Serenoa came out with dark hair, or else this would've been a whole lot harder to hide for as long as they did." Not to mention, if you compare official art, Serenoa and Roland actually look a fair bit alike. Just give them the same hair color, and they'd be darn-near identical.
So yeah, this is just me kinda playing around with that idea. Lots of awkward toeing the line and ambiguity in here, because I thought that'd just fit this situation well.
Like Brothers
As far as Symon was concerned, three things would never change: Serenoa was his son, he would love the boy for his entire life, and he would never regret taking in Destra.
There was one small thing that worried him, though: Serenoa had inherited Regna's pale blond locks.
It changed nothing in regards to Symon's feelings. When he held Serenoa for the first time, he knew the baby was perfect, light wisps of hair and all. As trite as it was, Symon could hardly imagine a more beautiful child in the entire kingdom.
There were many blond, blue-eyed boys in Glenbrook. It might not matter, in the end. But still…there was a small voice in the back of Symon's head that hoped Serenoa didn't grow to resemble Regna too much.
The loss of Destra remained a dull ache in his heart. They'd barely had more than a year together; she'd died a few months after Serenoa was born. Symon had genuinely grown to care for her in that time, however. He could scarcely imagine remarrying—he wouldn't dishonor her memory like that.
Besides, he had to focus on their son. He was sure Serenoa would barely remember his mother, but that was all the more reason for Symon to take up the mantle of two parents at once. Symon would raise their boy to the best of his ability.
Safeguarding Serenoa had been half the reason Destra had ended up in Wolffort territory, after all. It was the least Symon could do.
As Symon watched him grow, it was clear that Serenoa already had the makings of a gentle ruler. He played well with the servants' and soldiers' children, barely seeming to comprehend that there was any appreciable difference between them and him. Serenoa would have to learn politics and combat when he got older, of course, but Symon felt a swell of pride every time he found the boy romping with the other children in the castle. It had always been one of the hallmarks of House Wolffort—it was the duty of the leading Lord to treat all of his subjects equally.
It was so early that Serenoa likely didn't think of it that way, but it was good all the same, and Symon wouldn't stop him from doing it. He could only subtly encourage it, hoping he'd keep an appropriate amount of his soft heart as he grew.
Serenoa was six when he first visited Whiteholm Castle.
He'd never been to the capital before; his father had been several times that he could remember, but Serenoa had always been too young to visit. There was a ball this time, one he didn't know the reason for. But all of the nobles and leaders in Glenbrook had been invited to attend, and Symon had decided he could come too.
"It'll do you some good to meet the king and queen, my boy," Symon said. "You'll be serving them someday as I do, after all. Why, their children are even close to your age! I'm sure you'll be as fast friends with them as I am with His Majesty."
Serenoa was perched on Symon's shoulders, much to the amusement of the retainers they'd brought along. He buried his hands in Symon's hair as he gazed around at the streets of the crown city. It was so big—but the castle was visible even from where they were. It would've been easily-spotted even without his vantage point. And Serenoa had something to look forward to when they arrived, if his father's words were true.
"Do you really think so, Father?"
"I know so." Symon chuckled. "Though perhaps I ought to let you down before we arrive, hm?"
Serenoa climbed down reluctantly (with some help from Erador). Benedict sighed, brushing some dirt off Symon's clothing once Serenoa was back on the ground. Erador grinned, taking one of Serenoa's hands for safety. He'd grabbed onto his father's cloak with his other hand, but it'd hardly do to get separated, and he'd always liked Erador, anyway.
"Let the lad have some fun, Benedict—"
"We cannot let Lord Symon to present himself to the king looking so scuffed, Erador. Though I'm sure the entire palace knows we're here already, what with how loudly you're shouting."
"Hey, a ball's a joyous occasion! No harm in getting a little excited about it!"
They quit bickering when they reached the castle gates. A few soldiers bowed and ushered them inside. The retinue was shown through the entrance hall, soon arriving in a large ballroom. There was already a sizable group in attendance, and the king and queen were greeting guests near the doorway.
"Symon, my old friend," Regna said warmly. "It is good to see you. And this must be young Serenoa, yes?"
Regna looked down at him rather curiously. Serenoa suddenly felt shy, though he wasn't sure why. He couldn't figure out the expression on the king's face; it felt like he was being analyzed somehow, and he shuffled a little closer to Symon.
"Don't be nervous, now," Symon teased affectionately. "Go on—say hello to His Majesty!"
"Um…hello, Your Majesty," he mumbled. "It's nice to meet you."
"Indeed," Regna replied in amusement. "I see he doesn't take much after you, Symon."
A light frown crossed his father's face, but it flickered away soon enough, and Serenoa wondered if he'd imagined it.
"Of course, I hope my boy gets a little bolder as he grows up," Symon replied in an odd tone of voice. "But I see no harm in letting him ease into things for now."
"I meant no harm by it." Regna paused, and then turned to Serenoa again. "Do you see my children over there, Serenoa? They're by the table with their nurse. Perhaps meeting them will help."
Serenoa's eyes fell on the three children he'd indicated. There was a bored-looking boy holding a plate of food he barely picked at; that must've been Crown Prince Frani, since he looked slightly older than the second boy. His brother and sister were much more excited; the other boy was chattering eagerly about something Serenoa couldn't hear while he pointed around at various things. The girl was very young, and the nurse was watching her closest of all, but she was clinging tightly to her brother's arm and looking around at everything he showed her.
He liked them, Serenoa decided, at least the younger two. They would be easy to get along with. He nodded, tugging on Symon's hand as he asked for approval.
"Can I go over there, Father?"
"Of course you can," Symon replied jovially, giving him a light push of encouragement. "Erador, keep an eye him, won't you?"
"Of course, milord!"
Serenoa promptly scrambled towards the princes and princess, glad to be away from the king. He felt a little bad for thinking that—but there was something uncomfortable about the exchange that he couldn't figure out. But that was soon forgotten; he smiled when he approached the three children. They glanced up at him with varying levels of curiosity, and Serenoa waved as he spoke.
"Hello—my name is Serenoa. What are yours?"
"Frani," the older boy said dully, apparently deciding he wasn't interested after all.
"Ignore him," the second boy huffed. "I'm Roland, and this is Cordelia."
"H-hello!" the girl said. "Do you want to play with us, Serenoa?"
"I'd love to," he replied eagerly.
Roland gave it a few seconds' thought before a grin spread over his face. "Do you like hide-and-seek?"
Serenoa grinned in return. "I love hide-and-seek. I bet I can hide better than any of you."
"Ugh," Frani muttered. "You could pick something more grown-up than that, Brother."
"Fine, we'll hide and you can stay here and be boring." Roland stomped his foot and stuck up his nose. "Serenoa, Cordelia, and I will go have fun. Can you find us, mister?"
He glanced up at Erador, and the knight's booming laughter drew a few stares. "Of course—I'll give you kids to the count of twenty! Go on, now; hide somewhere good!"
Serenoa grinned again as his eyes scanned the hall for a good spot. There, just behind one of the curtains, was a large crate he could probably fit into. He scrambled off as Erador began to count. There were a few bottles of wine he had to push out of the way, but Serenoa could otherwise fit comfortably in the box.
He was proud of the fact that he was the last one found, too. (Cordelia had just hidden under the closest table, while Roland had picked a much better bench on the far side of the hall.) And, after three more rounds of hide-and-seek and several games of pretend-soldiers (which Cordelia sat out, but watched), Serenoa decided he liked Roland and Cordelia very much indeed.
He wasn't sure why, but there was something almost…familiar about them. That wasn't exactly the right word, but it was the best one Serenoa could think of. It was like he'd known them his whole life.
And, when it was finally time to leave for home, Serenoa found himself wishing he'd see them again soon.
As the years passed, there were plenty more reasons for Serenoa to see the royal family. Between various banquets, tournaments, and balls, there were more trips to the castle than he could count. And that was fine with him, really.
The more he got to visit, the more he learned about the king, the kingdom, and his new friends. From what he could tell, Regna was adored by most of the population; the kind of king that anyone would be honored to serve. Roland was outgoing, loved horses, and wanted to learn how to wield a spear. Cordelia hated fighting but was just as friendly as her brother—Roland often gave her glowing compliments about how she'd make a wonderful healer someday, if she wanted to.
And Frani was…well, he was distant at best most of the time. It was because he was taking his lessons seriously, or so he said. But it meant that Serenoa spent far more time with the younger two royals instead (which was fine by him, though he felt too guilty about the thought to say it aloud).
One day, Serenoa and Roland had been sparring together, and Roland examined him closely when they were finished. They'd fought on foot to be fair to Serenoa; he liked horses, but had never been as good at riding them as Roland was. Both of them were breathing heavily, having gotten a little too enthusiastic about their practice fight.
"Are you all right, Serenoa?"
"Yes, fine," he replied. "Just a bit winded. And you?"
Roland grinned. "Fine, of course; did you think otherwise?"
Serenoa shook his head in amusement. "Of course not; we are evenly-matched, after all."
"You know we are!"
Roland haphazardly set aside his training spear, and Serenoa carefully put away the sword. Then, they headed towards the doors of the castle's training hall. Their fathers had had a casual meeting—mostly just for the sake of a current report on Wolffort territory. They'd been allowed to practice mostly in freedom, though a few servants were waiting outside the hall in case they were needed.
Serenoa paused before they reached the doors; Roland was looking at him rather intently now. He raised an eyebrow in amusement. It was unlike Roland to be so serious after a simple practice match, unless one of them had accidentally hurt the other.
"Is everything all right, Roland?"
Roland blinked. "Yes, sorry. I was just thinking…we look so alike, it's a little surprising, isn't it?"
Serenoa slowly looked him over as well. He'd never thought much about it before, but…it was true. Roland wore his hair much longer than he did, but they had very similar hair and eye colors. Their faces were somewhat alike, too—Serenoa could see the resemblance in their chins, noses, and even eye shapes. It was…rather startling, now that he was paying attention.
"I guess we do," he replied. "I always thought I must take after my mother, but I can see a resemblance to you, too."
Serenoa had never known what Destra looked like, after all. He couldn't even remember his mother. Given that his father was dark-haired, broad-shouldered, and square-jawed when he was none of those things, Serenoa had simply assumed he must've inherited all of his features from her.
But now, there was a small part of him that wondered if Destra had some distant relationship to the royal family. It wouldn't matter much, really, but it was an amusing idea. If true, it would explain a lot.
"We could almost be brothers, couldn't we?" Roland laughed. "Why, I'd like having you as a brother much more than Frani."
"Don't say that," Serenoa chided, though his tone wasn't serious. "I'm sure Frani means well, and Cordelia wouldn't want to hear you speak like that."
Roland sighed over-dramatically. "There you go, being as nice as always. Though I suppose you have a point… I wouldn't want to upset Cordelia."
He paused and gave Serenoa another long glance. Then, he looked away and mumbled something under his breath.
"Er, what was that, Roland?"
"It's nothing." He glanced back up, face slightly red, and took a deep breath. "That is…do you mind if I…maybe call you 'brother,' just when we're alone?"
Serenoa considered the idea. He did like it, to be honest… He'd never had siblings of his own, and he and Roland already spent so much time together as it was. It was the closest he'd ever get to having a brother, and it felt right somehow.
"If it makes you happy, then I don't mind," he finally said. "I think it sounds nice."
Roland broke into a grin that was somehow relieved and excited at one. "All right, then! Thank you…brother."
It did sound good in his ears the more he heard it, Serenoa thought. Maybe someday, he'd try referring to Roland the same way, too.
Not long afterwards, Serenoa found himself at the castle again for a feast in honor of Frani's coming of age. He and Roland had been training together, as they often did, and they were running late to the seating. They'd just barely had time for a quick clean-up and to change into more formal clothing. Then, they'd made a mad sprint down the castle hallways, and Serenoa had to admit that the stares they were getting were kind of amusing.
Finally, he spotted their fathers up ahead of them, waiting near the entrance to the banquet hall. Serenoa slowed down, though he was still several feet ahead of Roland. He'd always been a little faster on foot than Roland was, and he'd gotten past him early on.
"Brother, wait—" Roland called.
Several of the servants glanced around in confusion. Frani was already seated in the hall, after all; from their point of view, he was calling out to no one. Roland stumbled to a halt and clapped his hands over his mouth, clearly realizing what he'd just said.
"Sorry," he whispered in horror. "I didn't mean to—how embarrassing—"
Most of the other people present shrugged and laughed it off, apparently deciding it had been some kind of game. To them, it was little more than a random slip-up. Even to Serenoa, it was just an admittedly-private nickname that Roland said without thinking. He grinned sheepishly, but he was hardly as mortified as Roland was.
"It's fine—let's just go."
They turned and took the last few steps towards the doors of the hall. Regna and Symon had identical looks of shock on their faces. Had something happened? Serenoa blinked. Even if they'd heard Roland's shout earlier, he didn't think it was that bad.
"Father, is something wrong?" he asked uncertainly.
Symon was still pale, but he clapped Serenoa on the shoulder and pushed the door open with his other hand. "It's all right, my boy. We were simply worried when we didn't see you. Now, go on—you're to sit near Princess Cordelia. She's already in place, so you'll know your seats right away."
Serenoa wasn't sure if he believed that explanation, but he nodded anyway. "All right, Father. If you say so."
He looked uncertainly at Roland, who simply shrugged in return. The prince's face was still pink, but he followed Serenoa into the hall. Once they were out of earshot, Regna gave an accusing glance to Symon.
"You haven't told them, have you?" he whispered sharply.
"Of course not! I've only told Benedict, and I swear to you, he wouldn't tell a soul. I made certain no one else heard, and he knows the delicacy of the situation as well as we do."
Regna sighed. "I'm sorry. I thank you for what you've done, truly. But…"
Symon sighed as well. "I know, Your Majesty. I know."
They could only hope this was some kind of fluke, and that the boys never learned the truth.
Symon would tell Serenoa if an appropriate time ever came, but until that day…he would do everything he could to keep his son safe. It was the best thing for everyone, he knew. But they were all walking on a very delicate line, and Symon prayed that the truth wouldn't cause too much harm if it ever came out.