I'm baaack ! I've been through a lot lately, but getting better. Still busy with moving. I've missed Varian and this story though !

Your comments got me thinking, and I think you're right, guys, changing the ending because of season 3 is not necessarily a good idea. Well, we're not there yet anyway ! Let's see how Varian is doing...

CHAPTER 72

Dear Remyus,

Thank you for the latest instructions you gave me. Communicating by letters so as to avoid contagion sounds like a good idea indeed, and your knowledge is valuable beyond words. Thanks to you, I can manage Varian's care by myself.

Varian has slept throughout the night, although he's been quite agitated at times. Every now and then, he tries to speak but it comes out as a mumbling and most words I can't understand. His fever is so high, I'm not sure whether he's dreaming or delirious. He distinctly calls out his Dad's name over and over when his restlessness reaches its peak. It's like he's stuck in a never-ending nightmare and nothing seems to work to snap him out of it.

It's been next to impossible to get him to drink something for the past hours and I'm really worried that he's not having enough fluids in his system. I've tried the cup, and when he wouldn't respond to it, I've used the drinking horn with the leather spout, hoping he would instinctively take it. But to no avail.

I think I dozed off now and then during the night, and I slept a few hours before dawn, when he quieted down. I know I should get more rest, but ever since his state worsened last night, I'm scared he might pass away while I'm sleeping.

I'll keep holding on, Remyus. As long as I'm able.

I'd better try and make him drink once more. Wish me luck.

Queen Arianna.

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The wooden door creaked as it was pushed open, letting the morning sunlight dart into the small room above the bakery. Phil didn't bother to open the shutters, neither when he got up at 4 o'clock to help his father with the breadmaking, nor now that he could get some downtime. Closing the door behind him, he shuffled his feet to reach his bed and collapsed face first on the coarse bedsheets.

Ever since Queen Arianna had dismissed him from his guard duty, Phil had been helping with the family business, but that was all that he could bring himself to do. He would spend the rest of his time upstairs, swallowed by the darkness of his tiny room. The stubble on his face was turning into a messy thing but he didn't care. He had no idea when he would be allowed back in the castle and that was driving him crazy. All he could think of was Varian screaming while Hans was dragging him into the cell. And then the deafening silence, all night. Worst of all, before Varian started to panic, the boy's icy blue eyes intensely glared at him with such intensity that they were always at the forefront of his mind.

Phil knew he deserved it, somehow. After all, when Hans displayed the chip of glass Varian was hiding, he felt suddenly shaken by doubt. Hans's assumptions were very plausible, in a way. For the umpteenth time, Phil's fingers curled up into fists and grabbed his hair. How had they come to this ? It all happened so fast. Everything was going pretty well, Varian was clearly getting better, and then, it only took the slightest flicker of doubt in his eyes to shatter Varian's trust. He had hurt the boy, Phil was sure of that. And he couldn't even go to him, check on him and apologize. Guilt and remorse were like two snakes intertwining around his heart, devouring it and feasting on it.

Phil didn't even jolt when a knock was heard through the door. He only wished he could be left alone and didn't make a single move, foolishly hoping that, if he didn't respond, they would walk away.

"Phil ? Son ? Can I come in ?", his father's muffled voice called out.

Phil's strategy proved itself useless, as the man opened the door anyway.

"Your stepmother agreed to be in charge of the bakery for a while", he said awkwardly, looking for the best way to start this conversation. It was painful to him to see his son like this. As a boy, Phil would be curious about everything, and often set his mind on finding new recipes to help his parents. His enthusiastic and loving little boy.

Unfortunately, his behaviour changed dramatically when his mother died. Phil had just turned eight and he had spent the afternoon playing with other children. When he came back home, the doctor was there, as well as a few neighbours, and his father was very sad.

Then time passed, as it always does, and the boy turned into a teenager and the teenager into a young man. Having to help his father at the bakery had made him more mature, in a tragic way. He would still be proud to be there for his father, but his innocence was gone. Maybe that was the reason why he decided to become a guard instead of taking over the bakery. Somehow, making bread in that kitchen where his mother would always hum songs while baking had become less and less bearable over the years.

His face still buried in his pillow, Phil felt his father sit down on the bed next to him. Silence followed.

"He would be the same age", the older man suddenly stated quietly.

Phil's eyes went wide and he turned his head toward the voice.

"…what ?"

"Your brother. He would be the same age as Varian, wouldn't he ?"

Phil's lip quivered as his mind reeled. It had been fourteen years since his mother died while pregnant and about to give birth. How had he not realized this ?

"Son… I know it's hard for you to be away from the castle at the moment, but you know the Queen will take good care of him."

"B…But…", Phil stammered as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, "but I let him down, Dad. I wasn't there for him when he needed me the most. And… and even now, I'm still…."

"You can't help him right now, and that's okay, Phil. Varian… he's not your brother. There had been some unexpected complications, and we couldn't save him or your mother. You know they didn't die because you weren't there. They died because it happened. It was unfair, but that is what happened. And there's nothing you could have done."

Phil's heart sank. How did his father know ? Phil had always blamed himself for not having been there when his mother died. He never got to say goodbye. And worst of all, he strongly believed for years that if he had been there, maybe… maybe things would have been different ?

He felt his father's steady hand around his shoulder, and he lost it. He sobbed into his pillow, pain and sadness overflowing in hot tears. Why did he have to feel so helpless all his life ?

"Varian will be alright, son, and you'll be together again. Just give it a little bit of time."

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Remyus,

I know I wrote to you only a short while ago, but Varian opened his eyes this morning. He's still feverish and confused – he didn't even seem to recognize me. But at least he was able to drink some linden decoction from the horn. Hopefully that will help bring his fever down. He's weak from the lack of food and severe coughing, but for now, he's gone back to sleep peacefully.

I have massaged his chest with the salve you made to treat his lungs. Ruddiger doesn't seem too keen on the smell, but it's probably effective.

I really hope Varian's condition will significantly improve by the end of the day. He's either sleeping or having nightmares, he's sweating a lot and can't eat. I'm not sure how long he will

Thank you for your assistance, Remyus. I'll write again soon.

Queen Arianna

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It had been a while since Phil's father had gone downstairs, back to the bakery to welcome the many customers that would soon swarm into the little shop to get some freshly baked bread.

Phil's cries had gradually calmed down, as he realized that the memory of his lost mother and brother had subconsciously taken over his mind. His father was right, the situation with Varian was entirely different.

He couldn't be by the boy's side yet, but that didn't mean something would happen to him in the meantime. And it wouldn't bring his mother back either, although that was something that the child within him was still desperately clinging onto.

Still, Phil missed Varian more than he could admit. But he didn't have a choice, he tried to reason with himself as he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He couldn't go past the Queen's orders, or he might get fired for good, and that was the last thing he wanted.

A chiming, young voice behind the door calling his name brought him out of his reverie. He instantly knew who it was. The youngest of his half-sisters, Colette, was up and of course, she would try to get him to go out and play with her. Again.

Indeed, a red-haired little girl with pink cheeks popped her head by the door with a grin.

"Not now, Colette. Leave me alone, please. I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood", Phil sighed, fully aware that he had said the very same thing the days before. But right now, it plainly seemed impossible for Phil to go out and play carelessly and laugh about trivial things.

The little girl's eyes seemed to be pondering over something for a second or two, and then she casually replied :

"Oh, ok, I guess your visitor has to come back later, then."

Phil buried his head in his hands.

"Well, you can tell Alden that he's wasting his time once more. I don't want to go out", he mumbled.

"Nuh-huh, " Colette said, shaking her head from left to right with so much energy that her pigtails flew in the air, "not Alden. But he doesn't want you to go out, he only wants to come in", she replied with the full innocence of her five years.

"Wait, what ?". Phil looked up, just before stopping dead in his tracks. By the door, there stood a large silhouette with a long coat and heavy boots. Light shone wanly from behind him, casting soft rays around his frame, and shimmering playfully on his golden crown.