Chapter Thirteen: The Little Details

As she hugged her brother goodbye, Brooke gently stirred from her sleep in the living room of her apartment. She was alone and covered in a blanket. She blinked into the yellow light of the afternoon sun as it streamed through the windows. She blinked again as James' moving silhouette came into view, placing something into the trunk near the wall. She managed to get a small glimpse of its dull, green glow; a sword. Why did he have a sword?

"James?"

James turned and smiled at her as the trunk lid closed, the glow from the blade disappearing.

"Hey, you're awake. You looked so happy that I didn't want to wake you."

Brooke sat up and smiled at him, feeling her ring fall from the inside of her sleeve. It dropped to the ground with a hard thunk. She reached down to pick it up, only for it to float up and zip across the room into James' outstretched hand.

James caught the ring and looked at it, eyeing the intricate vine details, turning it between his fingers. He stepped over to her, sitting where her head had been. He took her hand and placed it back on her finger.

"We don't want the She-Bitch finding you now, do we?" he said with a smile. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the ring.

"Thank you. Is everything okay?" she looked over to the trunk, then back into his eyes. They stared back at her.

"Yeah. While you were asleep I took a nap. I thought knowing you were in the house I wouldn't freak out, but I did." He gestured to the trunk with his head. "I try not to use my powers any chance I get, but I didn't really have a choice this time. I summoned my sword to my hand without realizing it."

"I was wondering why you had that," Brooke replied smiling at him.

James looked away, a shy smile on his face. He shook his head and looked back at her, offering his hand to help her stand. She fell into his arms, causing him to laugh.

"Alright, sleepy, when you're awake enough, I have to go to work." He gave her a questioning look.

"What should I do while you're gone?" she asked, watching as he picked up his keys from the table. He flexed his back muscles, pushing his chest forward.

"Well, Willa is nursing a nasty hangover, Mona is at work and I think Daniel is down the coast for some surfing comp. Sam is the only one around today I think."

Brooke grinned. She didn't have work that day, April had been kind enough to give her the afternoon off, and she definitely wanted to spend time with Sam. He was the closest thing she had to a friend besides James, and she felt really connected to him.

She nodded and smiled, watching James get ready for work.

"Seeing Sam would be a great idea."

~X~

Sam lived in an area of Los Angeles called Walnut Park, aptly named for the trees that lined its streets. It was about forty minutes from her apartment, and she enjoyed the ride along the highway. It didn't appear to be the 'slums' like Santa Monica was, but it was certainly not far from it. Several young ladies stood on street corners, wearing very skimpy clothing. As she got closer to suburbia, Brooke noticed the houses get more and more exquisite; manicured lawns, high rise windows, and spectacular water features. She bobbed through the traffic, drawn only to the presence of the Horseman of Famine. His house was situated at the end of a street lined with walnut trees.

She pulled into the driveway and took off her helmet. She looked up at the house, raising an eyebrow as she caught sight of a pink and white flag flying from a second story planter box. On it was a black and white bear with a tiara on. She shook her head and had a good look at the house. It was a beautiful house on a lot of other identical houses. The only indicator that Sam lived there was the open garage housing his motorcycle. It had a pale orange exterior, lined with white detailing.

A small pot plant sat at the top of the steps leading to the front door, wilting in the shade of the large tree in the garden. She stepped up to it, crouching down to touch the soil. The plant sprang to life under her fingers, her passive powers drying out the drowning plant. Its super thin spikes poked out as it stood. It was a cactus. Brooke frowned. She knew enough about plants to know this particular plant needed to be in the sun and only needed a small amount of water.

Making sure no one was around, Brooke used her sizable strength and lifted the pot off the ground, carefully going down the steps and back towards the garage where a patch of sunlight sat. She placed it, turned the pot slightly then dusted off her hands.

"Wow."

Brooke's gaze jerked upwards. She smiled when she saw Sam and a young girl poking their heads out of the window with the flag. Sam looked like he'd been awake for hours, while the girl looked positively exhausted, though there was some life in her eyes. She was young, possibly mid teens, with shoulder-length, dark brown hair pulled into high pigtails with a blunt-cut fringe and glasses. She had a round face covered in freckles and a light complexion. Sam's daughter, maybe? He didn't really seem like the type to have children.

Sam turned to the girl.

"Molly, why don't you go and let Brooke in."

"Okay!" she replied in a voice much younger than she looked.

Brooke watched, bewildered, as Molly disappeared back behind the curtain.

"That look is pretty accurate if James hasn't explained about my ward," Sam said. Brooke blinked at him.

"I didn't even know you had one."

Sam nodded his head and disappeared back inside, his voice filtering through the curtains. "I'll explain inside!"

Just as Brooke was about to call back out to him, the front door opened the Molly poked her head out. She smiled broadly.

"Come in, come in!" she chortled, waving Brooke over.

The fallen Princess stepped inside after the brunette, watching as she closed the door and skipped towards Sam who was coming down the stairs. The house was very nice, despite all the toys strewn through the living room, spilling from a pink toy chest shaped like a castle. Molly skipped around Sam and then leaped onto the plush sofa, bouncing up and down with excitement. At the end of a small hall beside the staircase was a security door that led to the small backyard and a second door to the right. To the left of the stairs was an archway that led to the dining area, and the kitchen. There were drawings on the wall, as well as a few paintings.

A small fluffy dog was asleep in a basket, a pink bow tied around her neck. She was white and looked very pet-able.

"I take it that's Pippa?" Brooke asked, pointing to the dog.

"Yep, the silly girl was out all morning chasing squirrels so she's all worn out. Normally she would be barking at the door," Sam explained, combing his fingers through his unkempt blonde hair. It spiked up all over his head.

Molly giggled from her seat in the living room, playing with the pink braided bracelet around her wrist. Sam looked over at her and grinned.

"Chasing after you is a lot easier than chasing after Pippa, Mol," he said, retrieving what appeared to be a plush dragon from his pocket. He tossed it at her, hitting her in the chest. She gasped and grinned at him, though the grin faded as she began to sway.

Sam was at her side in an instant, soothing hand on her shoulder.

"Molly, go upstairs and lie down. The dizziness will go away eventually," he said, reaching up to tilt her head towards him. Her tired eyes smiled at him as she nodded. She slowly got off the sofa and wandered upstairs. One final wave to Brooke and she was gone.

"Is she going to be okay?" the princess asked, watching Sam stand and stretch his back.

"Yeah, but she won't be Molly when she comes back," he said, walking past her into the dining room. She followed after him, watching as he went into the kitchen nook and opened the refrigerator.

She stared at him. What the hell was he talking about?

Sam closed the fridge and handed Brooke a can of lemonade.

"With her, there is a lot more going on beneath the surface," he explained. She stared at him still, blinking in confusion.

"Meaning?"

He sighed and hoisted himself onto the counter top.

"She has dissociative identity disorder." When Brooke's blank stare remained, he grinned. "Multiple personalities. She has eighteen unique identities living in her. She was brutally traumatized as a kid so her mind split off to protect itself."

Brooke felt her jaw drop open.

It did explain Molly's younger sounding voice, but not everything else. It was clearly a more complicated topic and Sam was trying to make it more simple for her to understand. But for the Princess to understand, she needed to ask more questions, just like she had with James. She took a deep breath and a sip of her drink.

"How old is she?"

Sam glanced at her.

"Her body is seventeen, but the alternate identities vary in age. Molly is the youngest. She's five."

"Okay, that explains her voice. What is her body's name?"

A difficult question to word, no doubt about it. Maybe it was something she wanted to keep hidden, or maybe she wasn't allowed to tell strangers? Brooke wasn't sure how the condition worked. She knew very little about mental disorders. James had told her he had post-traumatic stress disorder, and that his symptoms came as nightmares and flashbacks, among many others. What came with dissociative identity disorder, other than alternate identities? These questions and more swam in her head as she tried to absorb everything.

"The body's name is Lydia, but she's not out very often on her own. Marcella is usually with her." Sam smiled as a soft thump from upstairs garnered his attention, followed by his name being called in a voice much different from Molly. "I'll be right back." After a moment, Sam poked his head back in from the stairwell. "Some advice is to treat each alter like their own person. You can usually tell who's out by mannerisms and accent. It'll take some getting used to, but I think you'll be okay." With that, he was gone again.

Brooke blinked. This was all very confusing. So Molly was a five-year-old living in the body of a seventeen-year-old named Lydia, and there were more than just her, all with different mannerisms and history? She assumed that meant they came with their own memories, but the bigger question is why was Lydia the way she was? What had happened to her?

A spark of gold caught Brooke's attention and she turned, spying a large whiteboard on the wall. Gold and silver stars lined the edge. Written in different colored markers were names, twenty in total.

Sam; Lydia; Marcella; Winston; Fox; Antonia; Molly; Mitchell; Cassidy; Skylar; Churchill; Dominick; Annabelle; Lucas; March; Tyler; Macie; Darcy; and Penny.

Next to those names was a grid with 'CHORE CHART' written at the top. There were chores written in certain sections, as well as a post-it-note beside Annabelle's name, reading 'screw you I don't do chores.'

"That's to make sure everyone pulls their weight."

Brooke turned back to the living room as Sam returned with Lydia. The young girl now held herself with a sense of esteem. Her shoulders stood taller and she appeared much more confident. The pigtails had been replaced with loose, wavy hair and a lavender colored headband. She also was wearing different clothes. Molly had been wearing a light pink shirt with pale blue overalls and bare feet. Whoever was out now had changed their clothes to match their personal dress sense. The teenage girl now wore a flowing blue and purple strapless dress with sandals. She also didn't look as tired.

"Annabelle doesn't appear to want to cooperate," Brooke said, gesturing to the board. The girl laughed.

"No, but she isn't out enough to help anyway. I'm Marcella." Her accent was very thick as if she was from a northern country. Possibly somewhere in Europe.

Brooke smiled. Treat each alter like their own person. "It's lovely to meet you, Marcella. I'm Brooke."

"The Queen's wayward daughter finally arrives."

Brooke felt her jaw drop open again, her gaze falling on Sam. He hid his smile behind his hand, stifling his laughter.

"Sam shouldn't go telling my secrets to everyone," she said, glaring at him. He merely shook his head.

"He didn't, sweetie," Marcella said with a giggle. "I'm psychic. I see things before they happen. I saw your arrival and I know what's going to happen next, especially to your father during his trial."

Brooke raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

"I'm listening."

Marcella giggled again.

"I can't tell you, or it will not happen. Sorry, but that's not how it works."

Brooke smirked. Of course. She peered out the window towards uptown Los Angeles.

Mark was out there somewhere preparing to run one of the most difficult trials the Underworld had to offer and she had no way to help him. She wished she could, but part of her was glad he didn't have an advantage. She was concerned about her mother's safety, but if she could draw out the trial as long as she could, the longer she could stay in the mortal realm with James and her friends. She was torn between the two.

Envy suddenly welled in her chest as she watched Sam and Marcella busy themselves in the kitchen, preparing food. The younger members of Lydia's mental family were lucky that they didn't have to deal with all the rigors of normal life.

As she sat down, her mind wandered again, back to her brother and father. Blake would have found a way to cross over from the Underworld to help Mark. He had to. There was no one else who knew the labyrinthine tunnels of the Underworld quite like Blake and no one else would be willing to help Mark and Kane in any way.

She found herself wondering if Kane had even agreed to run the gauntlet. Mark wouldn't be able to do it alone so he would need him.

Brooke peered down at the flame on her wrist. It was almost black now, with tiny veins spreading out from its core. Blake was now in the same realm she was, but her ring was keeping him from her. Hopefully, he was helping Mark with whatever he had to do for the trial.

Hopefully.

~X~

Mark gasped as a white boot connected with his ribs, dropping him to the gymnastics mat beneath his feet. He doubled over, his arms curling tightly around his chest. Blake's boot had connected hard with his sternum, driving all the air from his lungs. He could feel every ounce of pain that Blake was inflicting, driving home his point that only supernatural beings could hurt him.

Laughter broke through the rush of blood in his head and he turned, growling as Kane leaned back in his seat. They were at a private gym in Las Vegas that catered to mixed martial arts and parkour training with Blake, who was helping them train for the trial. He wasn't going easy on him, which is what Mark had asked for, but he wasn't giving the older man a chance to defend himself, let alone fight back. If this was the kind of punishment he could expect in the trial, maybe he wasn't cut out for it.

Blake's boot connected with his forehead, forcing him backward with a loud thud. Kane's laugh only grew louder.

"I'd like to see you do better!" Mark said, rubbing his forehead.

"He is next," Blake said, offering his hand to his father. Mark took it and got to his feet.

Every part of him ached. Blake had turned him from hulking giant into pulp as quickly as he'd stepped through the icy portal from his domain. It appeared whoever was running the trial was allowing Blake to enter his domain and the mortal realm, but nowhere else.

"If you do not even connect with your assailant, there is no way you can win," Blake said, drawing his father's attention again.

"How am I supposed to do that when you are relentless? And how the hell is this going to help anyway? What if the trial portions don't even involve fighting?"

Kane sat up again and gestured to Mark.

"He has a point, kid. You said we're going through the nine layers of inferno, right? Why don't we just follow the same path Dante did?" he asked, earning a smirk from Blake.

"Things have changed since Dante walked the circles," he said. He rolled his eyes as he looked at Kane. "What makes you believe it will be that simple, uncle?"

Kane smirked.

"I'm a monster among men and he's an undead wizard," he replied, pointing at Mark who growled at him. "If anybody can do it, we can."

Blake smirked and, to prove his point, dropped to a frog-squat and swept his leg around, tripping Mark back to the floor. The older man groaned as his son and brother laughed. The blonde haired prince stood back to his full height and shook his head.

"I know only of the sections after Heresy, so perhaps the trial will not be combat based during the first sections," he pointed out, looking at Mark as he sat up.

"Which means you're just enjoying beating me into a bloody pulp."

Blake grinned.

"Pretty much." He shrugged and walked over to where Kane was, sitting beside him. Mark looked over at them and watched his son's cocky demeanor fade away, leaving only worry behind. He could tell what that meant. Blake had been worrying about Brooke since her departure, and now that he was in the same realm as her, the fact he couldn't find her would be eating him up inside.

"Blake, I'm sure she's fine," Mark said, attempting to soothe his son. He knew the twins were close. Growing up, they only had each other so they were best friends and siblings. Two halves of a whole, as Blake had described it. She was the fire to his ice, the perfect counterbalance. Having her be so close yet so far away was killing him.

Blake looked up and smiled softly.

"How can you be so sure? This place is so new and unfamiliar to her. What if she is lost and afraid? I cannot help her with that damn ring she wears."

Mark smiled.

"I know she's fine because her sister and brothers will be looking after her. I bet my immortality on it."

Kane grinned and gently punched Blake in the shoulder.

"Cheer up, kid. If Brooke is anything like you, I guarantee she'll be just fine."

Blake's smile improved and he stood again, turning to his uncle.

"Right. It is your turn."

Kane smirked as Mark crawled to the seats and sat down, reaching into the icebox to retrieve some ice for his throbbing head and ribs. He watched as Kane walked onto the mat, removing his shirt and stretching. The tattoo he had for Raven glowed in contrast to his pale, scarred skin. It was the only mark Kane really had to show his affection for his partner; he wasn't one to show it often. As far as Mark knew, his younger brother has never said I love you to anyone in his life before, except for Raven once the year he'd been set free.

Blake taking his fighting stance drew Mark's attention. He watched his son and brother square off, making note of their styles. Blake was low to the ground and posed to strike at the first opportunity. Kane stood tall, proud and ready, taking the standard boxing position. This wouldn't be a fight worth watching, though if Mark's match against his son had been anything to go by. He hadn't gotten a single hit in, and he was trained, at least competently, in many forms of martial arts and boxing. He was known in the wrestling business as the best pure striker, after all. Kane knew how to brawl, that was about it. He wasn't proficient in dodging or martial skills, so this would be even more of a beat down than the previous fight.

Blake took a step toward his uncle, waiting for the right time to strike. Kane merely stared, hard look in his eyes. What was the giant thinking?

The blond stepped forward into a roundhouse kick. In the blink of an eye, Kane's stoic expression slipped and he smirked, raising his hand to receive the kick. He held Blake's foot tight, grinning wildly at his nephew. Blake's expression faltered, shock crossing his features. Kane's smirk grew as he pulled Blake's foot back and drove his elbow into his knee, dropping the demi-god to the floor. He rolled forward, bringing Blake with him. Blake was now on his stomach, his legs curled upwards and around Kane's shoulders, his uncle's knee pressing against the back of his shoulders.

Mark blinked, flabbergasted at what he saw.

"Yield, little god," Kane growled, wrenching Blake's legs, pressing his knee further into his shoulders. Blake grunted and tapped his hand against the ground, the universal sign of giving up the fight. Kane released him, watching the young god flop to the ground in defeat. To add insult to the injury, Kane stepped onto his back as he walked back to the seats to retrieve his shirt.

"How did you do that?"

Kane shrugged and took a swig from his drink bottle.

"The night you beat me to a pulp, I promised myself I'd do everything to repay the favor. I may not have all the fancy powers you have, but I have the determination to lay waste to everything in my path, starting and ending with you," he explained, poking his brother in the shoulder. "Take it as a compliment and the greatest insult."

Blake sat up and stared at the two brothers as they smirked at each other. He felt himself smile. This was the reason they would beat the trial, and why they would be the only ones to ever do it. They were different in many ways, but they understood those differences enough to work together to solve their problems. Mark was the fast thinking striker, using precision and speed to incapacitate his opponent, Kane had the brute strength and maneuverability to take his opponent down and humiliate them. Together they could take on any challenge the Trail of Champions could through at them.

"I think you are ready," he said finally, drawing the attention of the two brothers.

"But I couldn't beat you," Mark said, disappointment in his voice. He shook his head. "You're only half human, so if I can't beat you, what makes you think the challenges will be easy?"

Blake shrugged.

"Because the Trial of Champions is designed to test your teamwork. I get the feeling you two have it, even if you have not shown it to me."

Kane looked at his nephew then at his brother.

"You expect us to work together despite the fact we hate each other?"

Blake nodded.

"Yes. Uncle, there is a fine line between love and hate, and you both walk that line."

Mark nodded and sat back. Maybe they could do this. Maybe they were ready for what the trial entailed, whatever that was. They had worked together before; Kane had helped Mark train for his fight with Serenity and Mark had helped Kane escape from the asylum. Mark knew that Kane would come to his aid if he ever needed it, as he had when confronted with the task ahead of them. Hopefully, Kane knew that if he ever needed Mark's help for any reason, he could always call. They were brothers, after all.

"So, when does the trial start?" Kane asked, standing. He stretched his back and grinned. Mark smiled back, looking at Blake.

Blake smirked as he stood, a whirl of snowy following him up. He raised his hand and a swirling portal appeared, gray in color but surrounded but pale blue snowflakes.

"Now."