Chapter Thirteen

Caring Doesn't Make You Kind

Cedric was becoming increasingly useless. He was Prince Phobos' chief advisor. He planned assassinations, battle tactics, court procedures, and governmental affairs. He was a fierce front-line fighter that has ripped apart countless souls in his bare hands. A brilliant tactician that was one reason no noble opposed Prince Phobos' iron rule.

Yet, at the moment, that snake was a glorified babysitter for his sister. A terrible one at that.

Why was his sister currently huddled in his rose garden?

It was what many would call a dreary day; never ending storms and continuous overcast. It had stopped raining, long after the sunset, and Phobos came to check on the newer whisperers that bloomed recently among the roses. While the prince preferred the gloomier weather, his plants currently needed softer treatment. They were getting harder to grow as the magic of Meridian naturally diverted itself to Elyon and they could no longer be completely protected from the harsh elements. The fact they didn't alert him to her entering the garden was a testament to their weakened state. Elyon still had months left before the coronation ceremony. At this rate, they would wither away by then. That thought brought him genuine sorrow.

They stayed in their flower form, but still swayed around Elyon, wanting to whisper to the princess but forbidden from interacting. She was curled into a small ball. Knees to her chest, arms over her head, dress muddy and soaking wet. Her golden hair was messy and clung to her shaking frame.

Phobos stopped, looking around for a servant to remove her, but finding none. He tried to slowly back away, but his foot splashed in a puddle. She tensed, looking up to see him, eyes red.

To his surprise, she didn't rush to him and try to throw her arms around him. She turned away, ducking her head.

"Leave me alone," she ordered, voice weak.

Phobos was conflicted. On one hand, he was more than happy to leave her to her own misery, on the other… no one told him what to do. Weighing his options, he knew he needed her in a stable state to keep growing her magic, so he unfortunately approached.

"Ah, Elyon," he called, not really wanting to speak with her. "What have you in such distress?"

She curled tighter and refused to look at him. Now annoyed at the disrespect, he frowned, ready to snap. He eased down, trying to avoid the water and mud on his robes, but failing given the flooded state of the garden.

"It is best you answer me," he stated, frown deepening. It was hard pretending to care every day. Having to make small talk about her studies and what new power triggered for her that day. That was why he gave her Miranda to play with. The woman would do anything to rise in court rankings. Even feign being a child just to distract the princess and win his favor. It helped, greatly. Yet, Elyon still sought Phobos' company at some point during the day. It was bothersome. As on top of dealing with the Guardians and the rebellion, he had a planet-wide kingdom to run.

Elyon now looked at him, blue eyes peeking from a small opening between her hair and arms. She muttered something too low for him to hear.

"Repeat yourself," he ordered, ready to leave her to the solitude she sought.

She raised her head more and now he could see a large bruise on her right cheek. "They didn't mean too."

She ducked her head again.

Phobos frowned for a new reason, reaching out and firmly pulling her arms away and lifting her head with a solid grip. She didn't fight him as he moved her head, examining the deep discoloration.

"Who did this?" he demanded, voice hard, eyes frozen.

Everyone knew she was off limits.

This was unacceptable.

"They didn't mean too," she said again, warm tears spilling down over his fingers. "I was playing a game of hide and seek with Miranda. I was behind a suit of armor. Two guards thought I was an intruder, I think, and tried to… the suit of armor fell on me and I ran."

Such worthless fools.

"Tell me where this happened. I will deal with the guards stationed there myself," he stated, pulling his hand away from her icy skin.

She was shaking her head, flicking rainwater off like a dog. "No. It was an accident," she said, moving back from his reach. "It was my fault."

Must he really deal with this? Cedric and Miranda would pay for their neglect of their duties.

"That is for me to decide, Elyon," Phobos explained. "My job as your regent is ensuring your safety. These calls are not yours to make yet."

"I don't want to get them in trouble," she confessed, voice sincere. "I don't want you to be mean to them."

He froze, worry she had seen something she shouldn't.

"And when have I been 'mean', dear sister," he asked, and she looked dead at him, eyes clear.

"There!" she called. "Your tone changed! You do that all the time. You get so mad at little things. I… I appreciate you not yelling or anything, but you still scare people. Even Cedric and Miranda get… scared too."

Phobos clenched his jaw. She thought this was mean? Such a sheltered child.

"I am firm," he clarified. "I am not their friend. I am their ruler. I have to decide which settlements received rations from the royal storage during hard winters. Which families must lose sons and daughters to conscription during wars and uprising. Where dams are built to aid a town but change the very land around it, taking away long existing resources for the sake of progress. There is no room for nice."

She sniffed, nose red, looking away. "I don't know. You at least try to be nice to me. And… around me. Why then, if it doesn't matter? Why are you here, talking to me, then?"

Phobos' brow rose. He didn't like how probing that question was. "You are my sister," he said simply, hoping to placate her with simple politeness.

She looked at him, eyes watery again. "Is that it?"

"What more is needed?" A part of him truly asked that question. "You are my blood. I spent thirteen years looking for you. You are the future of this kingdom."

She frowned, opening her mouth to speak, and the sky rumbled, ripping open to resume its downpour. Phobos stood, upset to have his clothes ruined more, thinking he would retreat to a hot bath. Only Elyon didn't move.

She covered her head and buried her face.

"You will get sick, Elyon. Let us head inside," he said, debating leaving her and sending Miranda to clean up her mess.

"I hurt my ankle," was her muffled reply, barely audible in the pelting rain.

Blasted child.

Having done more unpleasant things in his life, he bent down and helped her to her feet. She grimaced, not able to put weight on her right foot. Preparing himself, as his aversion to touch was long standing, he bend down and wrapped an arm under her rear, lifting her to him. His skin crawled, but not as much as he had thought. She didn't object, wrapping her arms around his neck as his other hand pressed to her back to steady her. He started the trek back to the castle with her cold face buried to his neck, hiding from the rain.

"Phobos?" she asked, sniffling. "I think you should try. Being nicer. Everyone works so hard."

He considered not answering, as her opinions didn't matter in the end.

"That is not something I can promise. You are my priority. This kingdom is my priority. Today was an example of how something well meaning can end in tragedy. They could have killed you, Elyon. They may have not meant to, but they are still responsible for the outcome. Do you think well meaning actions should be exempt from the consequences of them?"

She gave a very quiet 'no'.

"Those guards knew what they did, saw you get hurt. Why did they not send a healer after you? They let you suffer. How is that well meaning?"

She tightened her hold on his neck. After a few minutes she spoke again. "It was in the west corridor, by the second floor library," she told him, tears on his skin.

He knew which guards were stationed there. They were new and, clearly, incompetent.

"And what do you think I should do?" he asked, surprising himself. They entered the castle, and he headed to her wing. He could hand her off to a passing guard, but his feet were already taking the path, not stopping.

"I don't know," she said, weakly.

"Really? You seem to have strong opinions on what I should not do, but not one on what I should do?"

She pulled away, lips twisting down, clear eyes puffy. "I… I guess split them up?"

Interesting.

"And why is that?"

She looked at him, blue eyes seeking his approval. "They both made bad choices together. When there are mean kids at school, they always group together. But once you split them up, and they make nicer friends, they aren't as mean anymore. The guards aren't good as a group. They need different influences to make better choices."

A genuine smile tugged at his lips.

"That is an… interesting way to look at it. But that is reasonable. I will split them and have them retrain with senior guards."

She beamed at him, finally smiling, and hugging him. He rolled his eyes as she thanked him, mood brighter, bouncing in his hold.

Such a simple child.


The fallout was both good and bad.

The good was Elyon merely sent Achilles to be released at the lake, to Caleb's objection, thinking it was a simple frog, and not wanting to kill something that naturally belonged there. She had ordered the beach trip to end early, packing up the estate and sending Phobos back to the castle within the hour, keeping Vathek and Julian as his guards. Thanks to the circlet, he knew the frog was fine. He just needed to retrieve it at some point.

Luckily, the fight between the Keeper and them had completely taken top priority. They were shaken, seeing the Heart of Kandrakar activate on its own and spirit her away. They stood frozen for a moment, trying to grasp the implication of the Heart activating to remove the Keeper from them. Like they were a threat.

After what they said, he could see the creature viewing them as such. For once he was glad he could not speak during the fight, as Elyon and Caleb dug their own graves without him being used as a diversion. He wondered how much the kingdom was pushing back against the young queen? Were they seeking a… new Light? That would explain… a great deal.

He doubted Elyon could handle a rebellion no matter their intent. He tried explaining it, years ago, there was no niceness in ruling a kingdom. Not when every choice screwed someone over in some way. If Phobos knew this was the consequence of her being raised with Earth morals, he would have just stepped aside and waited until she was ready to hand the kingdom over to him in her failure.

One of the less than good outcome of the event was they confined him to his quarters for the moment. Elyon was due to visit soon, and he did not want to speak with her. The longer they conversed, the higher the chance she would ask the right questions.

Yet he was far more bothered by how furious he was on the Keeper's behalf.

Caleb had been unnecessarily cruel. Using her failed love conquest against her. And Elyon was still weak as ever, unable to see the real challenges of a theater of war. That's why Caleb's words cut her deep. That boy knew war. Knew how war time called for actions that everyone wanted done, but no one wanted to do. Caleb had killed his fair share of people when cornered. In fact, Phobos could only recall the five Guardians taking no lives.

Even Elyon had killed a few rebels by accident when she first activated her mind manipulation powers. She had flayed their minds, making them husk that stopped preforming basic functions. He had hid that from her, not wanting to upset her and risk his plan. Something he now regretted. Maybe he should have taken her training seriously. Made her a puppet instead of trying to steal her powers.

At this rate, when the kingdom falls, she's going to drag him down with it.

Maybe… he should have raised her.

Because this outcome was vile to them both.

With the Keeper now caught in their mess.

Who was currently missing.

What little he now knew, she appeared to have completely left the planet. After transporting key people back to Meridian, Elyon and just the four Guardians left for Kandrakar to seek the Oracle's help in locating the Keeper. If the nymph wanted to hide the Keeper, he doubted the Oracle could go against its wants. In the end, as hard as they tried to bind the creature, it was still a celestial being, something they had to bow to when face to face.

It was past midday when Elyon finally entered his room, carrying a satchel and looking tired.

His sister looked shockingly like him. He had thought she would look like Weira, as she shared that same foolish hope that the people she ruled over could be treated as equals. Phobos had not looked like Weira, and only vaguely sharing features with Zayden, like hair color and height. But the resemblance between siblings was uncanny.

He rather look at her and see Weira than himself.

Phobos was sitting out on his open balcony on a small bench. He was dressed in his normal day robes, but had yet to deal with the more pressing issue of his appearance. Looking in a mirror made bile rise in his throat.

Elyon walked over and sat next to him. Phobos had no interest in talking to her anymore. His freedom was coming and he would be gone. While he had wanted revenge, the option of never seeing her face was becoming too appealing.

"I'm sorry," she said, staring out at the view. They could see down over the kingdom, the vast expanse of roofs and checkered farm land. The sky was clear and the day hot. Just another normal day for the populace that dragged by, uneventful. "I keep failing you."

She took a deep breath.

"You are under my protection. You are my…" she stopped, shaking her head. "Do you remember? When I first met you? I remember seeing you. You looked so relieved. You hugged me. Called me your sister. You… didn't smile. You didn't start playing that game until later. But, at that moment, you were happy to see me, even if it was only for your plan." She looked down. "There are other times that I know you were genuine, because you aren't as good as you think you are, Phobos, playing games of the heart. But, I know they don't matter to you. That I don't matter to you."

She looked at him, pain in her eyes. "Tell me what happened last night."

He stayed silent, as she wasn't compelling him to speak.

"Phobos, why do this? Why not come to me? Why suffer like this? I don't want this for you." She looked away. "Tell me what happened with the guards," she asked again. Still no magic.

Fine, she wanted the truth. Let it haunt her.

He told her of the guards entering drunk, the maids, and the attack. He mentioned the frog was left the day before and it had stuck around, drawn by his magic bonds.

True and, as long as she didn't pry on Achilles, that would hopefully be all she learned of the frog.

She went pale as he made it clear what the maid wanted. Of his long, ongoing treatment from the guards. Of his injuries.

"Tell me," he asked, bored with it all. Tired of her company. Of this existence. "Is this shackled life really better than a swift death? Even when you were in my grasp, I left you free. How is this kindness?"

There was a small sound as she held back a sob, shaking as her hands dropped to her face. He felt nothing. She should have killed him long ago. This experiment was only for her, so she could avoid making hard decisions. Just because the throne was hers didn't mean she could handle the realities of it.

Elyon wiped her eyes and stood, sitting the bag down and reaching in. He froze, seeing what she pulled free. Not understanding as she walked behind him, her magic flowing, the air pulsing with her vast power. His skin tingled, and he felt his short hair lift from his shoulders, only to settle back down seconds later, heavy and familiar.

And then she was hugging him, arms around his shoulders, face against his hair.

"I love you, even if you can't see it. Even if you can't ever love me. I will do better. I will protect you. Because you are my brother."

Elyon pulled away, grabbed her bag, and left.

Phobos pulled his reattached braid into his hand, the strands still humming with magic.

That emptiness from earlier filled with something far worse as he clenched his teeth, hands balling into fist.

This pathetic existence was his own fault. Her weakness was his fault. The Keeper's pain was his fault.

He should have raised her.

He should have raised his sister.