"Alistair iiis going to be ok, right? I mean, he'd been doing really well this month, and his doctor did say he had too many pills in his system…that's what happened, right Odysseus? He just took too many? On accident?"

Odysseus sighed patiently, and wrapped a broad arm around Clovis's shoulders as they made their way down the palace's inhumanely long corridors.

"Course he's going to be ok," he assured his younger brother, and reached up to ruffle his blond hair affectionately. He chuckled as Clovis squealed and began to thrash out of Odysseus's grasp. He couldn't stand people messing with his hair, or rumpling his clothes. Their siblings had been piling money into a bet for years, trying to decide if he was obsessive-compulsive or flaming.

Clovis resumed his place, striding haughtily at Odysseus's side as he meticulously rearranged his hair. "That's what you said before, when he started saying he could hear people talking to him," the younger prince argued. He took a compact out of his pocket and checked his coif. "Then look what happened!"

Oddie nodded a little uncomfortably. He didn't like to have been proven wrong, especially around Clovis and Alistair. They looked up to him, Alistair especially, and trusted him. To be caught in a lie, or worse, completely wrong, always made him feel a little uneasy.

"I know. But he WAS doing better, Clovis. That whack job didn't know what he was doing. Alistair's too young to be on so many drugs."

"You said they'd make him better."

"We thought they would, Clovis," he corrected gently. They began a treck up on of the castle's many sprawling staircases, all 30 steps at the least. "And in better doses, maybe they would have worked. But we'll just have to try again. I for one don't think I want him back on antipsychotics. He's too young."

"But he'll be ok?" Clovis demanded another consolation. "Because Schneizel said the court's are getting more stringent, especially with people who aren't full-blood, and Alistair's mother was Scottish so-"

"But Alistair is a prince!" Oddie continued to argue. "If anyone can get around the laws, it's one of us."

Clovis nodded vaguely, and wondered out loud, "Couldn't father just over rule it?"

Both young men fell into an uncomfortable silence, as they always did whenever Charles was brought up as a factor in Alistair's life. The short answer was difficult; yes, he could. They were the sons of the Emperor, a man who ruled one third of the world in an almost absolute monarchy. Everyone knew the court systems, judicial restrictions and even the ruling power of a Viceroy was only so he didn't have to deal with day to day trivialities that didn't hold his attention. One word from father, and Alistair's life would never even have been threatened.

Charles, however, argued differently. Oddie recalled with painful detail, the coldness in father's voice as he dismissed his plea for a pardon on Alistair's behalf, 2 years ago when he'd first tried to end his life with a bottle of Excedrin. An example, he'd called his fourth son. A shining example of true justice and the strength powering Britannia's ethics. How would it look, he'd argued, if He proclaimed one word in law, yet let his own child escape his decisions?

In just three minutes, the emperor had reduced his own child to nothing more than a banner for genetic cleansing, a sacrifice he was eager to make.

Oddie felt his stomach turn sour as he reached for the keys to Alistair's now always-locked door. He could. Father could free him from a death sentence, but chose not to, all to save his image.

This was the first time Clovis had been allowed to see his brother since finding him on his bathroom floor, soaked in his own blood. Being only 14, the hospital's locked psychiatric ward wouldn't allow him as a visitor; not that they could have even tried, though. Clovis's image was far more known through the empire than Alistair's, being first of a higher birth order and also simply having more distinguished features. Alistair was able to hide in plain sight, given his relative anonyminity. It wouldn't do for the third prince to be bustling in to see him. Odysseus himself was able to tend his brother's bedside only through disguising it as an act of charity.

He backed away from the door, letting the younger boy rush in to find Alistair. It wasn't a difficult search, based on the emptiness of Alistair's rooms. With no seating left, his bed was the only place in his suite of any comfort, and he was found there, curled up with a paperback Odysseus had smuggled him that morning.

"Alistair!" Clovis shrieked, and sprang to leap onto the bed, a surprisingly undignified action for he usually prissy heir.

Alistair startled and dropped his book to the floor with a thunk.

"Jesus Christ Clovis, will your balls just drop already? You squeal like Euphemia!"

Clovis decided to diplomatically ignore the jab, and instead grabbed his brother by the shoulders and drew him in to hold.

"Alistair how dare you be gone for so long?" he wailed, and Oddie smirked from the doorway, seeing how Clovis tried in vein to mask his trauma. "I spent the last two weeks so bored! What was I to do without you?"

"Find someone else's hair to primp?" Alistair suggested, trying to weasel away from Clovis's suffocating embrace. He loved Clovis dearly, but breathing was a necessity.

"Hey, Clovis, I don't think Ali-Cat wants to become a conjoined twin," Odysseus laughed, and finally let himself into Alistair room, setting the tray on food down on top of the dresser.

Alistair smirked, and returned Clovis's skin-melding hug.

"Sure I do! Come on, Clovis. We could be, like, carnies or something! You can be the bearded lady."

"Would you take better care of yourself if you had to live with your nasty greasy hair next to my face your whole life?" Clovis wanted to know.

Alistair shook his head, making sure his oily, unwashed waves brushed against Clovis's pale skin. "Nu-uh."

This elicited another prepubescent squeal from Clovis, who immediately sprang from the bed and into Alistair's bathroom to scrub his face.

"Ali-Cat! Now he'll be in there for hours!" Oddie whined, only half mockingly. Their family had vanity running deep through them, but Clovis had a rival only in Guinevere; it was like a competition to see who could clutter their bathroom counters with the most frivolous, perfumed goods.

Alistair snorted, and made himself busy going through the dinner Oddie brought him.

"It's ok, I'm not using any of that shit anyway."

"I can tell," Oddie remarked, noting how bad Alistair's acne was getting again.

Alistair grumbled under his breath before tasting the hot pasta. His hygiene was a grounds of constant battle with his closest siblings. They were constantly antagonizing him to bathe more, scrubs his hair, keep his face clean, but he didn't really care. He figured they'd love him no matter how bad he smelled, and besides, no one else saw him, really, so who did he have to impress?

"You know," the first prince continued, "You'd probably feel better if you washed up more. Those can't be too comfortable."

Alistair adamantly ignored him in favor of a spaghetti Shangri-la, but absently picked at his face as he spoke. His complexion, as had become usual in the past year, was marred with hard, painful red marks that he constantly poked and pinched, much to his siblings chagrin. Clovis, in fact, tended to freak out and start smacked his hands with books and other handy objects.

"Alistair, stop picking at your face," Oddie sighed.

"Is he picking at his face again?" Clovis shrilled, and finally peeked around the door to the bathroom. Odysseus and Alistair both stared with raised eyebrows as he emerged with a pale pink face mask spread across his features.

Around a full mouth, Alistair finally cautioned, "Did…you get that from my bathroom?"

"Yes."

"…why the fuck did you buy me pink girly crap for my face?"

There was silence on Clovis's end.

"That's the brand you use, isn't it?" Alistair deadpanned.

"…yes."

"And you knew I wouldn't use it and planned on snitching it back."

Clovis stared back unblinkly. "Maybe," he conceded, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

"Nice trust there, Clovis!" Alistair barked after him. "This is why I'm fucked up, ya know. No moral support!"

Two sighs and sets of rolled eyes were his only response as he immediately went back to his dinner.

"Seriously though, Alistair," Clovis's voice echoed into the room amidst water splashing. "You ccould be so handsome if you just cleaned up!"

"Can't," he said. He washed down the last of his pasta with orange juice. "I'm gonna be the moon for Halloween. Gotta ripen up my craters."

A clunk resonated from the bathroom, going along swimmingly with Clovis's gagging.

Odysseus was surprised, really, that Clovis could even be in there…he suspected there was some major repression of emotions going on. And some denial. His little brothers seemed very good at that.

Clovis was patting his face dry with a plush white towel as he made himself at home on Alistair's bed again, though he shot his brother a warning glare.

"If I get so much as one blemish, I swear Alistair du Britannia, I'll hurt you."

Like he could, Alistair smirked to himself. "What's wrong, Clovis? Don't want a few zits to match mine?"

He shivered. "No! They're just…hideous! Gross!"

"Oh. So you think I'm ugly?"

"I didn't say that! Stop putting words in my mouth, Alistair!"

"Yeah, well, you meant it, admit it! You're just jealous! You know that someday when my acne clears up and I finally turn legal, I'm going to blossom into a ravishing hunk of a man who gets all the girls…not that you'd care about getting girls, but I'm sure some of them will have brothers."

Oddie stood st a safe distance, watching with a bemused smile as Alistair leapt forward to tackle Clovis off the side of the bed. It always gave him a bit of hope, seeing Alistair on his good days like this. He loved seeing him play, and roughhouse around, although he was beginning to get a little old for some of the childish games he liked to play. But Oddie permitted it. Alistair had lost the end of his childhood, and it didn't seem right to discourage whatever gave his brother pleasure.

These days, seeing Alistair healthy, happy and energetic was a welcome change, one that Odysseus treasured. Too often he'd wake to visit him brother, to find him in a daze, or screaming, or, worse of all, crying silently, light eyes wide with some terror only he could see. Those days, all Odysseus felt he could do was draw Alistair close, coo to him, hope he could hear him.

His psychiatrists were reluctant to label a child with as damning a word as Schizophrenia, but each seemed to agree he had so many signs of it, and given his poor mother…but Oddie didn't care. He'd been with Alistair since he was born, had helped look after him ever since his mother was diagnosed when he was still toddling around in rompers.

So these sorts of days, he lived for. They were a relief, on so many levels. He always thought, maybe now it's over. Maybe now this medication will work, this psychiatrist has the right idea. Maybe he can be normal. Even when his optimism was dashed time and time again with each relapse, he still looked forward to those short bursts of sunshine. It made the long stretches of thunderstorms seem more tolerable.

Besides, despite his congeniality and upbeat attitude about even something as depressing as this, he couldn't' ignore the simple fact that someday, Alistair might not be around to enjoy such sweet, simple moments of bliss.

In one month was Alistair's hearing, and father had appointed Odysseus to go in his stead, as Alistair's next of kin. 4 weeks could seem like such a long time if he tried, but to do so was dangerous. He had just thirty days to prepare a case on his brothers behalf, a task he wasn't looking forward to. He wasn't the brightest of his brothers. In fact, he readily described himself as mediocre in almost every way, at least those that mattered to his family. Who was he, to be able to explain why, medially and mentally, Alistair was of sound mind and deserved another reprieve? How could he argue for Alistair's cause without having to resort to simply showing him to the court, showing them his smile, how happy he could be? How could you possibly take the life of someone you love and put a value, a price on it in just one hour? It didn't seem fair, and the burden was weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

Still, he wouldn't let it show. He was nothing if not an optimist, after all, and it wouldn't help the younger boys to see the strain this was causing him. He'd done it before, three months ago, when Alistair had been improving, and felt so happy when it had been approved. Although, that was when Alistair was doing better, not after he'd tried to kill himself.

He shook his head gruffly. There was no room there for gloom right now. He had a pair of brothers to tackle, and an evening to enjoy with them. One more blessedly calm evening to be thankful for.

)o(

Next chapter will start getting into longer, more substantial updates. I hope you enjoyed.