The Eternal Dance of Light and Dark

by The King of Ravens

Having just survived a nine year long civil war, those of Lucael would be forgiven for entertaining the notion of peace. However, new threats are rising, and as the son of the king, it is Caiellis's job to combat them, despite his youth. But as the leaders of a rival nation declare war and mysterious figures pull strings in the shadows, Cai will be drawn into the fate of the world.

42. Absolution

The rain spattered down upon everything in the City of Pleasure, washing away the blood as the last dregs of the light from the setting sun spilled into the war torn Welkalite capital, the natural orange luminescence creating iridescent arcs of colour in the air as it was refracted through the clear droplets cascading down from the rumbling heavens above. However, the noise that the storm roiling over the city was a far cry from the one that had been screaming down at it only a few hours ago.

Even so, another tempest in such a short time, natural or not, would be unwelcome for those still in Usnaan, too close to scars that had only recently been inflicted and that were only just being come to terms with. The Welkalite weather, according to some documents that Tybalt had read about it from both Yentarian origin and those written by Lucaelian scholars who had been permitted inside the Empire when tentative trade lines, was volatile and changeable, liable to be perfectly sunny with a few wisps of clouds one second and then pour down in rain from the sky as thunderous nimbi of black gathered in the air within a few seconds.

And even in spite of the torrential rain that began to erase the blood that had pooled with the sprawling streets of the besieged city, the stench of death would not be expunged from Usnaan for a long while yet. As Tybalt stepped through a large avenue out of the Augur's Quarter which had been laid to ruin in bloody fighting at the end of the battle in there around when the Archdemon located at the near centre of the City of Pleasure was defeated, he suppressed a grimace at the sheer amount of bodies littering the ground that was sodden with blood and water that streamed down it in rivers of diluted crimson, repressing the urge to vomit up the contents of his stomach at the awful smell.

So much death. There was so much death, and yet the old man had to remind himself that there would have been even more death had the Welkalites' (well, the Orders of Passion's) heinous scheme to use the power of an Archdemon to further their plans of gaining more power and crushing the opposition of any nation that would stand in their way which had been halted by the sacrifice of the brave Lucaelians who had died here today, as well as the slaughter of the corrupt members of the Orders of Passion who had opposed them. The Hierarch of Capitalia Lux only hoped that the casualties were not too high and that not too many innocent Welkalite civilians had been killed, although collateral damage with the destructiveness of the battle within Usnaan was inevitable and he would be a fool if he denied that.

His venerable body ached from the wounds he had sustained in the fight against the young but utterly insane and corrupt Master of Wealth, and Tybalt knew that there would come a point where he would not be able to fight like that any longer and would have to lend his aid from the back lines exclusively – which he had done a significant amount in the civil war with young Tristram who was in the prime of his life leading from the front and fighting in the defensive and protective mana that he excelled in, but Tybalt had often joined him so that they could protect their young charges who were not old enough for fighting despite being force to help numerous times if they wanted to ensure their survival.

He was disturbed at the mana that he had sensed from his youngest student that had wiped out the Lord of Riots, utterly annihilating the demon and purging its corruption from the world, because he knew that it would definitely have huge consequences on the boy's frail body and was suggestive of something awful happening there. Now he could no longer detect the Lucernas even if he stretched out his magical sense and focussed all he had on endeavouring to perceive them, which was even more worrying considering he had sensed Marik and Alexander earlier.

The man was extremely concerned for them all, especially little Caiellis who should really have stayed out of this conflict at the very least (with Alexander joining him in remaining in the safety of the kingdom in Tybalt's opinion – although it was almost undoubted that the Lucaelian force would have been defeated without the might of the entire loyal Lucerna royal family backing them up and cutting a swathe through the Welkalite lines), but there was nothing he could do for them right now so with some difficultly he bade the thoughts leave his mind.

It was a hard thing to do, because he wanted to protect all three of the younger males, particularly the young brothers who were the son of Marik, and he had the instinct to want to ensure they were safe ingrained into him from not just his upbringing and natural loyalty to the Lucerna family, but from the nine years of the civil war where he had grown to not just be friendly with the Lucerna boys but love them like a father or an uncle (which he supposed was more fitting considering Caiellis's title for him).

His oaken staff, which had picked up numerous dents in the desperate engagement with the Master of this Passion Quarter, clacked on the stone ground which had blood and water running down it, and he leaned heavily on it as he walked, though he refused to pay attention to the relatively few wounds he had received and knew that he had got off lucky and would have been hurt much more if Caiellis had not decisively ended the threat of the demons like he had.

The Augur's Quarter had been almost near obliterated, one of the massive and obscene Towers of Ecstasy having fallen and collapsed into the ostentatious streets below it when it had been rent asunder by a gigantic meteorite that crashed into it, and the largest one that Tybalt had been fighting in gouged by numerous scars of destroyed stone and gold as it had been ripped apart by the smaller meteors smashing into it and disgorging their payloads of shrieking devils into the cylindrical monument to greed.

Lelia walked silently behind him, leaning on her large sword just as Tybalt used his staff to help him walk, and though Tybalt had offered her aid to walk she had quietly and stoically refused it, her eyes wet with tears for the soldiers that she had lost who had gone through the massacre in the City of Quiet with her and the amount of death that had been inflicted on both sides in the conflict in this horrible city that was in itself an edifice to almost all things that Tybalt detested (well, the four Passion Quarters were at any rate), forbidden pleasure that was off limits for a reason, and presumably the pain from the injuries she had suffered through silently.

Bruna led the way, Tybalt still possessing just enough mana to keep her active in case there were more enemies in their way, though the Light of Alabaster had scared off the small party of them so far. The Hierarch was feeling the strain of having his Second Sisterhood angel still Summoned, but it meant that they were protected from any potential enemies still left in the city as they made their way to where the older Light-bearer could sense the rest of the Lucaelian leaders collecting, which was near the Palace of Desire to represent that the City of Pleasure was under Lucaelian control for the time being.

Ideally Lelia needed to go to the camp outside of the urban sprawl and submit herself to the medical care of professionals, but she had refused that without using words as well and Tybalt was not going to force her to swallow the pride that she had left and ensure that she could not contribute to the inevitable discussion of what they would do now that the battle was all but won with the demons and their foul servants having left the city now that the taint had been purged from it and they could no longer sustain themselves as Unbound within Usnaan – and those demons that had Summoners had left because their plan had failed and they would rather claim the souls of the ones who had initiated the Infernal Bargain with them instead of waste effort fighting against assured defeat.

As he walked, or hobbled depending upon how one would like to define it, although he ensured that part of his mind was utterly focussed on the path in front of him and making sure that everything was safe for them to continue on their slow progression through the still dangerous and hostile enemy territory of the City of Pleasure, Tybalt cast his mind back to the last moments of Eras Stormwind less than an hour ago.

"I am going to make you both pay so much for what you have done to me. I wonder how much pain it will take to break you and make you scream!" the boy shrieked, insanity suffusing every syllable of his sybaritic voice as he howled in pain and hatred at the Lucaelians and laughed at the roiling sky. Tybalt and Lelia stood side by side as the young but insane Master of Wealth opened his arms wide, fingers of his two different hands, one still protected by a golden gauntlet and the other unnatural, stretched out, the Archfiend of Depravity behind him mimicking its master's movements as it held out is four arms like it was the conductor of a foul orchestra of cacophonous and screaming death.

The Tempest of Craving howled through the many open spaces of the central Tower of Ecstasy's highest tier, the ceiling having been annihilated by the Hierarch's light magic and the walls destroyed by fiery rocks of destruction raining down from the sky and deploying more screeching devils and other denizens of the more hedonistic regions of the unholy abyss into the extravagant building that was more of a status symbol and an icon to excess. The Unbound beings, sustained by the unholy energies that were flowing through the Welkalite capital from the nexus of darkness and depraved passion that was an Archdemon at its corrupt heart, roared and screamed at the two Lucaelians and the angels in their midst, surging towards them from across the room as Eras laughed maniacally and began to release huge amounts of mana.

Orphia, the Angel of Retribution, instantly leapt into the air and smashed into the ground around them, the daughter of the only dead First Sisterhood angel whipping her sword round into crimson bodies and spraying black blood all over the large room from where she bisected them with her blade.

Bruna joined her a moment later, trusting her Summoner and the Summoner of the other angel to be able to contend with the magic that the Master of Wealth was emitting and prepared to help them if need be, divine alabaster light splitting the noxious and tainted air from where it was launched from the tip of her staff which was shaped like Avacyn's Collar, the holy symbol of the Angel of Hope that was repeated in many places covered in revered Lucaelian iconography – such as on Tybalt's robes that had the symbol of each of the ten (now nine, though the Star of Serenity was still there – although it had faded with her sacrifice at Johnias's hand and lost its power) First Sisterhood angels etched upon it.

Eras laughed again, the young and relatively high pitched voice of the nineteen year old joined by the malevolent insanity from the sadistic demon behind him as coils of darkness started to spiral through the air from the morass of Black mana above Severkarkyis and down towards the comparatively slight Master of Wealth. The tendrils of noxious shadow wrapped around the boy's outstretched arms, emitting a dark and tainted light as it infused him with even more mana borne from him siphoning away portions of his life in return for more power.

The sensation was intoxicating, addictive, more powerful than the strongest narcotics that the Master of Wealth had ever sampled before and he wanted more – he couldn't wait to unleash this power upon the pitiful Lucaelians in front of him that would allow him to test his new magic and had wounded his perfect body.

Black and Red mana coalesced around his arms that were spread wide, snapping and sparking at one another in their discordant and contradictory yet complimentary dance over his limbs, and the boy sucked in an ecstatic breath at the power surging throughout him. Tybalt snarled, blasting apart a squealing creature which managed to penetrate the defensive storm of blessed steel and divine light that was the two angels with a bolt of White mana shot forth from the crystal tip of his staff, as the unnaturally saccharine scent of the Tower of Ecstasy and indeed the Tempest of Craving (which, instead of blowing the smell of corruption away like any normal wind, merely augmented the excessively sweet aroma of taint and impurity) was enhanced by the stench of an even greater contamination from the power that was billowing around the circular chamber at the pinnacle of the tower.

Tybalt glared over at the much younger man, already pre-casting runic symbols into the air around him through his predominantly White mana, using the defensive and numbing properties of the magic of thought to enhance the protective wards etched into the space around the Hierarch and Guardian. Lelia cast a few of her own spells, adding her mana to the older Light-bearer's, although her defences of a magical nature were not the strongest and she much preferred to be on the offensive and silencing the enemies rather than enduring their spells.

"HAHAHA!" Eras's laughter was accompanied by the exultant howling of the Archfiend of Depravity, darkness and pure shadow wrapping around them as the mostly Black but partly Red mana of the Master of Wealth was concentrated into his limbs, spilling out of his fingers in a cascade of tenebrosity mixed with velvet moral pollution as all of the noises in the circular tier at the top of the central and largest Tower of Ecstasy rose in volume until a crescendo of sheer sound was screaming and laughing in Tybalt's ears before he cast a spell that would aid in staving off the secondary effects of such a large amount of mana being released, Lelia aiding by spinning her sword round in a circle as serene yet vengeful characters joined the ones already written around them.

The noise was not drowned out completely, but muffled to the point where it was bearable without deafening them like it would have done without their precautionary methods, and though someone who had not encountered it before might have been fazed by the insane screaming neither Tybalt nor Lelia were.

The former because he had lived through so many years of war and banished so many foes, and the latter because she had survived the massacre of almost eight million people – nearly the entire population of the first Gol – and been forced to endure against large numbers of greater demons ripping her birthplace apart and murdering her family at the young age of just thirteen – the age of Caiellis – and had fought in the civil war as some sort of general or symbol of survival and defiance in the face of this treachery.

Lelia was akin to a saint, and was a definite hero, whilst Tybalt had fought against foes comparable to this – though the Master of Wealth was discharging huge amounts of power and the fact that the level of hellish mana throughout the city was rising as if in concert with the emission from Eras Stormwind was also disturbing. Tybalt knew that the heightening of Red and Black magic within the entirety of the City of Pleasure had little to do with the nineteen year old Welkalite brat that he and Lelia were currently locked in combat with, and that worried him even more because he knew that the power increase was originating from the centre of the sprawling capital of the New Empire of Passion, which definitely did not bode well for the Lucerna family or the entire Lucaelian army itself.

Screaming and roaring mingled with the noises akin to those being made by the Master of Wealth and his demonic Summoning, but on a much greater and louder scale that reverberated through Tybalt's aged bones and made his teeth chatter with the vibrations, shaking the entire foundations of the Tower of Ecstasy as he saw a gigantic meteorite crashing down from the howling storm above and impacting into another Tower, obliterating the central part of the cylindrical structure as its top half collapsed into the streets below and made everything judder and shake violently once again.

The dark ascension of the City of Pleasure into madness and deprivation was only just beginning in all of his destructive insanity, a cavalcade of passionate fire, exquisite lighting and hedonistic darkness rushing into everything around them as Eras giggled in his hysterical psychopathy. His eyes, which were already a pale cold colour in the irises which were almost completely covered by the dilation of black pupils in rapturous bliss, flashed with a false golden light that glinted black in the darkness and belied a much more sinister intent, becoming completely filled with the ostentatious colour until they were orbs of greed manifest as he pointed his face to the sky, the pale skin of the youth turned crimson in the bloody torrent of the Rain of Gore.

Tears of pure molten gold began to drip down his face, melting the skin off of his bones and replacing it with extravagant and lustrous gold that had none of the imperial majesty that the gold of the angels and Lucael did but instead represented greed and the insatiable desire to obtain more and more wealth that would never be sated no matter how much he gained and hoarded. If Eras was concerned even a little bit by the corruption of his flesh as the molten tears seared it off and fused with his face instead, there was no sign as he was wrapped up in his own psychotic giggling and laughter as more avaricious tenebrosity burst out of his limbs, the ravenous and corrupt darkness concealed by the false disguise of prosperous gold that shone with metal manipulating and fervent Red mana.

The boy beckoned upwards and the magic surged around him, a sea of molten gold rising up round the nineteen year old Welkalite as the statues of the victims of the first spell he had cast in this battle dissolved and melted, adding their own bodies to the waves of liquid metal that was entwined with covetous Black mana. Tybalt grimaced, extremely wary of the gigantic amount of mana that was being emitted that would certainly have been taking its toll on Eras Stormwind's lithe and sickly body as well as requiring to trade off portions of his life and soul to obtain the power to wield this amount of dark energy, recalling Bruna to him so that together they could prepare a form of defensive magic to help protect them from the tidal wave of gold and corruption that would soon be raining down upon them.

Orphia kept slaying the shrieking demons that tried to get past her and attack the more vulnerable humans that she was defending, the Angel of Retribution covered in the black blood of unholy Sancturia creatures who had been given substance and sustenance by the taint of an Archdemon warping and permeating everything in the city – especially focal points of vileness and concentrated corruption such as this Tower of Ecstasy – which allowed them to remain in the world of humans without a Summoner for an indefinite amount of time unless the dark power keeping them here was reduced, which did not seem to be happening – instead it was only increasing in erratic bursts of malignant energy.

The hells of Sancturia's abyss seemed to be being forcefully overlayed upon the city of Usnaan from what the Capitalia Lux Hierarch could see out of the corner of his eye even though he refused to pay attention to it. The whole of the city was alight with hellish flames, and massive claws of obsidian that pulsed with a malicious crimson glow ruptured the ground as they reached up out of it and curled over the City of Pleasure that was evolving and metamorphosing in the sadistic influence of the Archdemon at its centre.

To an untrained observer, the Angel of Retribution would seem like she was completely invulnerable to the meagre assaults of the hordes of devils and other monsters from a maddening carnival of carnal destruction and debauched carnage, but Lelia knew that defending against such a large number of enemies all on her own and with the little mana that the Guardian of Gol Secondus had left was taking its toll on Orphia even if she didn't overtly show it as she kept killing them, though more were being disgorged by fiery rocks that crashed into the ground of the upper floor of the largest and central Tower of Ecstasy.

Some were killed by the magical release of the Master of Wealth, indiscriminately turned to gold by tendrils of questing debasement in the form of darkness as their molten bodies were added to the massive, steaming wave of molten gold that was rising up behind the Welkalite youth, ready to surge over the entire room on Eras's command when he built up enough power to completely overwhelm the magic of the Lucaelians.

Tybalt knew already that there was no way he could use countermagic to dispel such a powerful sorcery and would probably end up hurting himself instead of the Master of Wealth as he attracted the malevolent attention of the Archfiend of Depravity and engaged the demonic being in a battle of wits and mental strength. He did not want to invite madness upon himself, that was for certain, and could already feel the talons of insanity scrabbling upon the shield that was around his mind which would be ripping through the psyches of those less mentally disciplined and weaker than him and turning them into raving lunatics liable to turn upon their allies in a maddened rage at any moment.

"I will make you feel my true power, old man and mute! The power of your oh so holy angels is nothing compared to this strength, Lucaelians! Soon you will realise that! Soon I will make you realise the power of the magic that I have obtained; soon I will make you see the supremacy of the Welkalite people and make you witness my mastery over the dark arts!" Eras screamed at them, already completely mad as the power surged throughout him and corrupted him from without, making his body match the taint and darkness of his soul as parts of his natural pale skin began to blacken and char, turned to gold as they started sloughing off like he was a reptile shedding scales so that they could be replaced with new and improved ones.

If Tybalt had been so inclined, he could think of numerous responses to the Master of Wealth's blatant arrogance that merely fuelled the darkness inside of him that he was releasing now, but even if he had wanted to speak them it was unlikely that he would be heard over the discordant melody of sounds that were drowning out everything else, only allowing them to hear Eras Stormwind's voice because of the otherworldly and hellish resonance that inflected it as he screamed his throat raw in his mad cackling. Instead the older of the two Light-bearers concentrated upon maintaining his defences, trying to piece together a plan in his mind that would allow him to capitalise on this massive discharge of magical energy instead of just enduring it because that would almost certainly end in failure.

The world was shaking around them, and not just because of the heavy vibrations making the whole tower tremble due to the power that was rushing throughout it – the fabric of reality itself was warping and buckling in a way that Tybalt was unfortunately familiar with because of his station as a Hierarch of Lucael who had fought against numerous foes from the unholy abyss. The darkness of the forsaken nether often did this, the realm of darkness that was as much Sancturia as it was the physical substance of reality rippling the frail barrier between the two worlds and making everything bend and warp around those who became trapped within it.

He had often experienced such a thing when being forced to travel through portions of the outer abyss with Guardian Tristram, Alexander and Caiellis when routes between the cities that were safer as they were affected less by the influence of the void of shadows and had been assaulted by demons and other denizens of the more magical and evil parts of the endless darkness (these safer routes were what the monorails were constructed upon, the eternal night less dangerous than the shadows of the abyss that constantly encroached upon them), mindlessly bending and warping reality unless those properties were harnessed to suit the needs of particularly powerful individuals or creatures.

Tybalt had also seen it happen before when in one of the metropolises that had been besieged by Johnias's forces, the fabric of the world contorting and straining the normal qualities of physical existence within the cities under attack, though the one that he remembered most was when it had happened to the nursery of the young princes within the Lucerna palace itself when it had come under attack from within by demons masquerading as guards who had murdered Emili Noctis.

Although barely any of the survivors of the Silencing of Gol spoke of the horrible slaughter of millions of their fellow citizens that was the consequence of a surprise attack from the renegade Guardian Teylaisian Illustri, his Fallen Hierarch and the leader of the traitors himself who had been eager to test the powers of his new Archdemon that he had murdered Serenity for, the Hierarch assumed that it must have been similar in there – as those poor, hollowed eyed and haunted individuals who had spoken to him of that when the party of the princes and their protectors had met with the army of Guardian Lelia and Hierarch Francis told of the city buildings growing claws and teeth and the streets being infused with a dark life of their own as the city around them turned on them and aided the demonic and traitorous attackers.

He knew from the look in Lelia's dark blue eyes that this was reminding her of that fateful time when she had grown from a somewhat naïve and innocent young girl at the age of thirteen to a woman who had led the survivors of the massacre out of the death trap that their city had become. The twenty two year old gazed at the Master of Wealth her eyes alight with hatred as the light of her magic made the scar on her face glow with righteous fury.

This was similar, but a more insane and psychotic distortion than just simply an evil one, though there was plenty of that as well, and a barrage of sensations and stimuli assaulted Tybalt's aged senses even more than they had already done when entering the foetid pit of corruption and degenerate passion that was this Tower of Ecstasy, almost baffling them to the point where his body would shut down and making him want to rip out his eyes and stick a sharpened sword in his ears because it would lessen the pain of the endless shrieking of the individuals who had been blessed and cursed by the twin gifts of pleasure and pain before he augmented his and Lelia's mental defences (though the young woman (not that one would know she was only twenty two with how solemn she acted) probably wouldn't need the help since she had endured Gol at the young age of just thirteen.

Tybalt shut his eyes, focussing exclusively on his magical sixth sense as he took in a deep breath, a long and languid inhalation that allowed his mind to relax and become more concentrated on the spell at hand instead of panicking and as such reducing the amount of power that he could gather up. Normally he would be able to do that without shutting out all of his other senses because he was well practised in the manipulation of White and Blue mana, but with the amount of stimuli that was bombarding him because of the corrupt power of enraptured hedonism that was consuming the entire City of Pleasure (an auspicious and foul name if the man had ever heard one) he could have easily suffered sensory overload and been unable to focus at all.

However, as he was soon to quickly find out as he opened his eyes wide once again, he needn't have bothered. A massive pulse of White and Black mana combined in a way that he had barely ever seen before rose up from the centre of the city, smashing into the Tempest of Craving as it screamed and its crimson glow was replaced by annihilating black flames, dark incandescence and blinding tenebrosity coiled together in a haunting purple pillar of luminescence that ripped through the storm and exterminated the presence of the Archdemon within the corrupt and beating heart of Usnaan.

A wave of purification and cleansing mana washed out from it as it tore through the howling Tempest of Craving, a tempestuous, booming and almost deafening death scream roaring across the city as it made Tybalt shake more than anything else had done so in this battle to free the Welkalites from the darkness that their masters had invited willingly upon them, and as much as the Hierarch wished he could have paid attention to that his own predicament was currently much more pressing and demanding of his full attentiveness. Eras's mouth that was stretched out into a smile slowly fell, though it only curled downwards slightly in confusion, making his features twist into something that was a mixture of a rapturous grin and a bewildered grimace of disappointment and confusion.

"Oh. Oh. So the Lord of Riots has been slain, has he? Interesting," Severkarkyis murmured, vaguely anti-climatically as the screaming howl of defiance and the hatred of a fallen god resounding across the entire capital city slowly died down, leaving ringing in Tybalt's old ears as the creatures in front of him began screaming and howling in a frenzy, realising that with the corruption of the abyss fusing with Usnaan quickly being expunged from the release of what could only be Caiellis's mana and launching themselves at the angels and their human Summoners, wanting to vindictively inflict as much damage as possible before they could no longer be sustained as Unbound in the physical realm and were dragged back to the pits of Sancturia's hell where they belonged and could wreak no more havoc upon the denizens of the material world.

Bruna levelled her staff, the Collar of Avacyn emblazoned atop it shining with light as she launched scattering bursts of illumination into the hordes of devils and other foul creatures charging at them, though she did not release and excessive amount of power to calmly wipe them out as the Master of Wealth's spell was still being cast by the Stormwind brat on the other side of the circular chamber to them.

The Archfiend of Depravity sniggered, the sound utterly inhuman and strangely quiet after the amount of noise that had assaulted the aged Hierarch from all angles only a few seconds earlier that was still ricocheting around within his skull and mind, before it developed into full blown hysteria that gripped the greater demon as it howled with mad cackling which was nothing compared to the thunderous laughter of the Archdemon which had just been slain and forced reality to return to normal now that there was nothing anchoring the hedonistic pits of deprivation from the underworld of Sancturia to Usnaan and forcing the two realms to collide within the Welkalite capital.

"Ahahaha! AHAHAHAHA! Rakdos has been killed! AHAHAHAHA! This is hilarious! That foolish bastard was slain by the little child of the Lucernas?! MWAHAHA! What a ridiculous end!" the greater demon known as Severkarkyis screamed in laughter that filled the room, extending its four arms wide behind its Summoner who had faltered with the casting and completion of his spell now that many things were happening around him at once, the intoxicating power that he had built up diminished somewhat although still mostly there as reality returned back to the state it had been before Tradax had conjured up the Tempest of Craving above the City of Pleasure a few days after the little princelings of Lucael had escaped with the sacrifice of seventy seven slaves in the Palace of Desire.

The boy felt the gaze of the demon, predatory and no longer falsely indulgent, biting into him from behind, sensing the pain that was rippling through him from such powerful magic more keenly now that his power was fading somewhat, and he quickly tried trading more of his soul to the Archfiend of Depravity so that he could feel the rush of magical energy once again, as while it was still coursing through his veins it was nothing in comparison to what it had felt like only moments earlier. The bargain was denied or ignored, which was strange because he knew that his personal greater demon wanted his soul and that it had always been perfectly amiable to obtaining pieces of it early to play with, and began to turn around to it before he heard the Archfiend of Depravity's foul voice once again.

"In that case, I have no more use for you, little Welkalite brat. Now that the plan has failed with the death of my "master", there is no longer a point to aiding you in your own personal quest," Severkarkyis spat, and Eras's eyes widened as he spun around and felt the power being ripped from his limbs, his greedy orbs that were the colour of fool's gold returning to their normal yellow structure as he felt a sensation akin to his insides being torn out of him from within that rushed through him. He screamed, stumbling as the waves of gold began to solidify and stop moving, their gleaming and prosperous glow sloughing off like a thin layer of paint as it revealed the throbbing, wet and glistening truth inside it. It was fleshy, black, and quivered like a still beating heart freshly ripped out of a human body as it sprayed murky blood all around it.

Eras touched a hand to his face, his natural hand recoiling in automatic horror as he felt several moist lumps on his pale cheeks that wriggled like nests of maggots, his aquiline features contorting in disgust as he felt them thrashing and vibrating on his own skin as they burrowed into his flesh, shedding layers of gold to expose the malignant corruption underneath. He raised his hand that had been replaced by the evil magic of his greater demon after his own attempts at dark regeneration had been thwarted by the old Lucaelian man's destruction of the ceiling through the magic of light exposing him to the indiscriminate effects of the Rain of Gore (which had stopped pouring vibrant scarlet blood down on everything), the golden hand that had been given to him melting off and revealing the fused flesh of his wounded fingers that were the products of his endeavour to repair the wound with dark magic himself which hadn't healed at all.

"No! NO! What are you doing, Severkarkyis! Give me my power back! Give it back!" the boy screamed like he was in the midst of a childish tantrum, genuine fear rushing through him as he scampered backwards from the demon that leaned over him, sending a quick and frightened glance back to the two battered Lucaelians and their angels who watched on with unsympathetic eyes. The Archfiend of Depravity laughed as it dropped to the ground out of the air and stalked forwards, two of its arms placed on the ground and the others extended towards the Master of Wealth who was attempting to scatter away from him. He smirked, "It was never your power to begin with, human, and I will give it and take it away at will."

Eras's eyes widened in a mixture of outrage and shock as he tried to ignore the agonising sensation of the fleshy darkness which had masqueraded as brilliant gold stabbing deeper into him, joined by pains from within his own heart as the morass of corruption inside of his soul reached out to the murky and solid shade on the surface of his pale skin.

He extended his last remaining hand in front of him, refusing to back down from his demon that he had sacrificed his old Summoning for in return for dark and forbidden power despite the fact that he kept pushing himself backwards as he did so, the crippled hand that he scraped on the floor screaming in torment that he barely managed to ignore as he did so. The hand that he had raised glowed with dark chains of gold that he flung out, wrapping them around the demon's arms, legs, neck and torso in the way of the Infernal Bargain that would allow him to force his greater demon Summoning into submission, "How dare you! You are mine! You are mine to command! You are beholden to me! You will obey me, Archfiend of Depravity! OBEY ME!"

The nineteen year old's defiant shouting slowly regressed into a desperate shriek as none of his words seemed to have any effect at all, squeezing his hand that was the nexus of his binding shadow shut to the point where it should be putting his disobedient Severkarkyis in immense and unignorable agony like it had done the first time he had encountered the Archfiend of Depravity when Tradax had led him through the motions of the demonic contract that had him killing his old Sancturia creature and trading its soul for the power of a demon. Severkarkyis laughed, darkness bursting forth from it and ripping apart the chains as it stalked forwards towards the terrified Welkalite youth who retreated backwards until a questing tendril of solid shadow brushed against him from behind.

Eras shrieked in panic, spinning around and sending a bolt of molten metal at the darkness that was coalescing behind him, but it simply devoured the Red mana and increased in size and density to the point where he could barely see the Lucaelian enemies and their angels any longer. He was hyperventilating in panic now that he had no way to control his greater demon – he had always known that Severkarkyis hated and resented him, but had found that hilarious because of the fact that his new Summoning had been unable to do anything to act upon its urge to kill his Summoner. He had enjoyed humiliating and making the demon know its place, but was now regretting those actions as his demon looked perfectly ready to tear him apart and inflict the agonies that he had caused it onto Eras tenfold.

"And I was never yours to command, foolish brat! I am beholden to no one!" the greater demon snarled threateningly, his pits of darkness that resembled eyes glinting in exultant malevolence as it got closer to the boy, shadows gathering behind the horrified Master of Wealth to stop him from retreating further as he turned back to the demon, locking eyes with his Summoning who smiled sadistically down at him, revelling in his fear as it neared him. It grinned as Eras Stormwind launched bolt after bolt of fire and molten metal at him, fusing the basic spells of pyromancy that all wielders of Red mana could harness with his own specialised form of ferromancy which was in itself a subset of geomancy – but even with all this there seemed to be no effect upon the Archfiend of Depravity.

Eras pressed his body against the shadows, anything to get as far away from the demon who had turned upon him and was freezing his mind up in unrelenting terror, remembering a time in the past when his father had threatened to beat him to death in a drunken rage before the man had been killed by his aunty when he attempted to stab Eras in the throat with a knife. He had been terrified then, the only other time in his life he had been fully scared and not just fearful because of his almost constantly changing emotions and feelings inside of his head, and he was terrified now as his demon closed in on him.

He tried to pull up more defiant Red mana from within him, to tear apart the greater demon with spikes of metal and incinerate it with a wave of immolating fire, but hissed in pain as attempting to draw upon his magic sent pains of white hot agony up and down his young body.

"And I am going to make sure that you remember that, insolent human," the demon smiled as it reached one of its large hands towards the Master of Wealth who was shaking as he attempted to somehow cower away from it, the fingers that were almost larger than the boy's arms wrapping around his chest as he screamed in pain when the contact was made, insidious torment rushing through him from merely touching the Archfiend of Depravity. He weakly pushed at the finger which was circled round his ribs, using both his natural hand and the fused claw of his other one in his feeble attempts to remove the demon from him even with the pain that touching Severkarkyis caused him, tears of the natural variety spilling down his face and out of his eyes, though they were tinged black like ink instead of transparent like normal tears, because of the pain and the fear.

"Please … please don't hurt me … please … I'll do anything … I'll give you anything," Eras whimpered in pain, squeezing his eyes shut before small fingers of shadow pulled his lids open again so that he had to face the demon who's face was mere inches from his. He coughed and gasped as the fingers began to crush his body, his bones grinding together underneath the strain on them even though it seemed like the demon was only using a fraction of its strength and could squash him to a bloody pulp within a second. The Archfiend of Depravity barked with laughter, its foetid and unnaturally sweet breath washing over the boy and making his head spin as dizziness and nausea consumed his vision for a moment, his eyesight blurring through the turmoil of the pain of the demon pressing down on his lungs and the scent of the demon's saccharine exhalation that made him cough and splutter even more.

Moments earlier he would have adored the smell, been addicted to it and revelled in the aroma of sweet corruption, but now it was only disgusting and representative on how different even the most corrupt humans were to demons. The demon pressed down harder, the pressure on Eras's lungs and ribs increasing as the bones scraped against the organs within as he fought desperately for air, the darkness that was once molten gold on his face spasming and wriggling as it dug further into him, moulding into and corrupting the bones of his cheeks as he screamed – or would have done, if he had been able to breathe. All that came out instead was a broken, mewling wheeze, and Eras wasn't sure whether the darkness swirling at the edges of his vision was from the lack of air which he had experienced in the past when attempting to heighten some sensations before or was the product of the Black mana saturating the poisonous aura exuding out of Severkarkyis.

As the Master of Wealth became sure that his body was going to give out on him, the demon leaned in, its mouth that could swallow the nineteen year old's head whole almost touching his ear as he shuddered in fear and cried in his attempts to breathe, "Oh, but Eras … I don't think you have anything that you can give me. I already have your soul once you die here, and once you do I will be able to spend an eternity torturing you in any way that I like. Most of those that I claim I use to worship me, but I think that I will have a special fate in store for you, arrogant worm."

Eras tried to reply, but all that came out from the Master of Wealth was a gasping wheeze as he clawed at the finger pressing down on his lungs. He wasn't sure why he even wanted to speak, how he had got passed the sheer fear of the proximity of the Archfiend of Depravity to be able to make words. Severkarkyis then whispered, though its voice was still agonisingly loud yet sibilantly sweet but sickly and rotten in the young man's ear, "However, as much as I would like to, luckily for you the binding of the Infernal Bargain prevents me from killing you. Otherwise I would have ripped your pathetic mortal form to shreds already so that I could play with your pitiful soul. Already I can feel the compulsion to let go of you, to release you and allow you to draw breath once again, and I will not be able to resist it for much longer. Nonetheless, while I cannot kill you myself due to the rules of our contract, I am sure that there are many ample candidates ready to do that for me."

Eras felt the pressure on his lungs ease up with a sudden burst of air that he sucked in as he fell to the floor, landing on it with a painful bump that had him crying out in pain and luckily not breaking any of his bones (though he had not angled the fall in any way that would help to prevent it because he had never been taught how or cared about such things that shouldn't ever have affected him). He let out a wordless scream of petty rage when the demon laughed at him and pulled itself back into the fallen temple of unholy worship and deprivation that was Eras's new Mind Realm, the darkness wrapping around it and turning it into a dissolving cloud of sickly sweet poison that would kill any who breathed it in without any forms of protection.

Then, instincts that were not trained by any form of experience but heightened by a rush of further adrenaline coursing through him screamed at him to move, and his body did so before he even knew what was happening, unceremoniously rolling as his robes tore on the splintered ground as a bolt of light impacted into the floor and left a crater where he had been only a moment earlier. The fear that had dissipated somewhat when the Archfiend of Depravity had made him aware that it could not kill or harm him much returned fully when the truth of its last words before returning to inside the Master of Wealth made itself known to him, but before he could do anything else he threw up, black vomit spilling out of his mouth as he retched it up from his stomach.

The pain of Unsummoning and losing much of the mana that he had left was agonising and made him feel hollow and empty inside, but it was better than having the greater demon here and threatening him. He spun around, wiping away the sick with his crippled hand as he figured that it might have been corrupted and in that case he didn't want to contaminate his only remaining pure hand, and quickly got his feet, pulling up mana from within him that was severely lacking now that Severkarkyis had departed. He locked eyes with the vengeful blue orbs of the Lucaelian mute who, upon further reflection, couldn't have been more than three years older than him despite it at first appearing that they were around a decade apart.

Tybalt prepared another magical lance of light which he would launch at the Master of Wealth now that his demon had abandoned him to die, feeling the mana run through him now that he had deactivated most of the defensive wards around him and Lelia as he sensed that the threat of the massive spell Eras Stormwind had been casting before the death of the Lord of Riots ending in tandem with the Archdemon. He had not been able to hear what the Archfiend of Depravity had whispered to the boy before he had departed, and while a part of him was inclined to feel slightly sorry for the youth any remorse he might have felt was quickly destroyed when he remembered just what the nineteen year old – an adult with accountability for his actions despite not yet having left his teenage years – had done, how many lives he had ended in his own greed.

Eras's eyes opened wide for a second when he remembered something that in his own turmoil and fear he had forgotten, marvelling at his own genius at preparing this before the battle. He had thought about it when the demon had first grabbed hold of him, but the thought had left his mind when he realised that Severkarkyis's large finger was over the pocket where the device was stored and that the demon would probably just stop him anyway.

He shot out his hand, a mixture of relief and focus running through him now that he had a true opportunity to survive, spikes of iron and gold rupturing out of the ground and impeding the progress of Lelia and the Angel of Retribution as they were forced to dodged out of the way of the metal claws which would have impaled them and had to smash through them with their blades to continue.

Tybalt and Lelia as well as their respective angels had been unanimous in their decision to wait to see what would happen to the Master of Wealth when his demon turned on him instead of intervening and attacking both at once with the greatest threat still within the room. It had been more prudent to be patient instead of rushing into the fray even though it seemed like their two opponents were turning upon one another, and now that the Archfiend of Depravity had left the Master of Wealth alone with the venerable Hierarch and the silent Guardian and their angelic Summonings who were already bearing down on the nineteen year old Welkalite who had thrust his last natural hand into one of his pockets.

Eras pulled out the teleportation device, too agitated to let a sigh of relief out at the fact that the piece of equipment had not been damaged by the strain of the battle and the demon's hand wrapping around his waist and upper chest, and frantically began clicking on the button that would activate it with his bony claw of an imperfect hand as he held it with its natural one. He couldn't suppress a triumphant smirk from making its way onto his young but now corrupted features as Blue mana stored within the escape device was ejected out of it, the magic of displacement and positional manipulation coursing around him in a mist of sapphire as he smiled victoriously over at the Lucaelians, before narrowing his eyes and then widening them again.

"There will be no escape for you, heretic. You must face judgement for your crimes against both your own Welkalite citizens and the Lucaelian people," Tybalt's clear voice, tinged with a powerful resonance from the mana that he was drawing up from within him, mana that would help him bring justice to the corrupt Master of Wealth. Eras glared at him for a moment before laughing back, blasting out shards of metal at the angels and their human masters to dissuade them from trying to approach him or attempting to use their magic to harm him as he escaped from the City of Pleasure which had been lost and conquered by the invaders from the Kingdom of Light, before laughing arrogantly back. "I disagree, old man. I think that there will be an escape for me. And while you might view me as a heretic, in my opinion I am not one, so surely that means I should get away for free? Anyway, it doesn't matter what you think. It has been boring fighting you. Bye now."

The boy could feel the Blue mana pulling him from this location, preparing to drag him through the Aether in between Sancturia and the material realm so that he could be taken to the eastern city of Kalaan which would not be under attack from self-righteous Lucaelians, though there had been talk of rebellion in the east of Welkas where the control of the Orders of Passion had been waning as they focussed their efforts into the west and their border with Lucael. Even so, it would be much safer than Usnaan at the current moment which was filled with a swarm of crusading invaders from the Kingdom of Light, and a few rebels was nothing that Eras couldn't handle – even if Severkarkyis had chosen to abandon him now.

Tybalt calmly prepared a counter spell, sensing instantly that the Blue mana was only present in a limited amount from the device and that because it was not augmented by the Master of Wealth's demonic touch and as such he could easily use his own mana borne from thought to counteract it and dispel the teleportation spell which had been woven into the device that Eras carried and was obviously intending to flee with.

Blue mana collected at the tip of the quartz crystal of his staff, just as orderly as his White but less concerned about bringing those who had committed crimes against innocents to justice, and he bolstered it with the controlling force of his White that would allow him to absorb the energy of the spell that the Master of Wealth was utilising to flee and attempt to escape justice and convert it into healing for him and Lelia – as he had already sensed that because the Rain of Gore had stopped and the Tempest of Craving had been destroyed by Caiellis he was free to use his magic to heal others and himself now.

The Hierarch visualised the spell that would transport Eras away from his deserved fate snapping, the cloud of translucent sapphire that was surrounding him dissolving into the air around him, and his Blue mana made it so as he focussed his mind on preventing the spell from being cast. There was a surge of mana as the teleportation began that Tybalt quickly crushed under the heel of his own magic, the mana that the device had emitted instantly absorbed into the Light-bearer's staff as it was pulled from around Eras, who's eyes had opened up even wider in shock.

"What …?" he whispered in utter stupefaction as the teleportation magic around him instantly dissipated, the rush of relief he had felt leaving with it as the magic his captured Yentarian scientists had made for him disappeared. He instantly assumed that it was the treachery of his slaves, but when he saw the mana collecting around the old Lucaelian and repairing some of the wounds of him and his mute ally he knew that he had been prevented from leaving. The boy rocked back as if slapped, and then began screaming as the words of the Archfiend of Depravity just waiting to get its malicious claws on his soul repeated over and over and over in his head. He wailed, "No! NO! What have you done, you old bastard?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Tybalt did not reply with words, but instead slammed his staff into the ground in front of him, White mana launching from the holy quartz at the top of it into the heavens above and slamming down in a lucent pillar of divine incandescence that illuminated Eras in its blinding glow as he screamed more, his flesh disintegrating from his bones as the cleansing light purged the corrupt life from him, ripping apart any spells that he tried to to cast that would potentially counteract the damage that was caused as the Hierarch increased the potency of the devouring light.

The boy shrieked something, but the noise was lost within the thrumming light as he was killed. It was painful, because the purifying light would have torn apart his body and turned it into ashes, but it was nothing compared to the torment he would go through at the demon's hand once his soul returned to Severkarkyis as per the rules of the Infernal Bargain. Tybalt's face was set in grim determination as the Master of Wealth was killed, and when the light faded there was nothing left of the nineteen year old who had been there only moments earlier.

Tybalt shook his head sadly at the recent memory and at the fact that they had passed another corpse of a Lucaelian woman, making the sign of the Reverent Dead above it and silently praying that the soldier's soul would get to the paradise that it deserved to reach. Nineteen was too young an age to die at, but such taint that had festered within the Master of Wealth which the youth had allowed to corrupt him could not be purged in any way other than death, and the boy had already consigned himself to that through his evil actions that could never be forgiven.

Eventually, after meeting up with another division of soldiers led by the bleak faced Captain Decia of Scientia Mos, elite warriors from the City of Books who had been instrumental in breaching the Augur's Quarter in the first place and had held off the army of a general who had been the head of the black clad and sadistic Collectors, Tybalt and Lelia made their way into the impromptu camp that had been set up outside of the now almost crumbling Palace of Desire that was filled with soldiers and medical personnel from the Ordo Medella who had been transferred into the city and were in the process of desperately trying to save as many lives as possible, taking those who could not be healed here across the city to the war camp outside of it where the vast majority of the equipment still was.

Several angels guarded the encampment inside of the city and kept a lookout for any enemies, and with a mental word Tybalt sent Bruna there to aid them – as not only would that assure everyone who looked to the heavens to deliverance that Hierarch Tybalt Litria was indeed still alive but he reasoned that he could sustain her for a bit longer and the Light of Alabaster would be a powerful defensive force in case the last dregs of Welkalite resistance mounted an assault upon the gathered Lucaelians. The man could see prisoners of war being rounded up and held by legionaries who nodded their heads respectfully in the direction of the Hierarch of Capitalia Lux and the Guardian of Gol as they passed. Tybalt nodded back, affording equal respect to them as they gave to him, and gazed upon the terrified face of a young Welkalite woman who had clearly been conscripted into the army of Enforcers to protect their capital city, her pink eyes meeting his venerable orbs for a moment before she looked away.

Tybalt knew that he would be wearing the same grim and hollow expression as each of the legionaries of Lucael that he passed – victory had been achieved, but it was certainly not a glorious one and the man knew already that the casualty report would be a horrific sight. Too many had died, on both sides, but then that was the way of war and the Welkalite people had invited destruction upon themselves – or at least that was what Tybalt liked to tell himself so that he could sleep at night. He knew that war would never stop, that the Lucaelian people would never be able to stop living in fear until all traces of the abyss had been purged, and was also aware that there would have been far more death should the Welkalites been left to complete their schemes and Summon an Archdemon into the world to create their own personal hell without anyone to interfere or banish (or kill as the circumstances were) it.

But it was hard to think like that when there was this much death all around him, and the fact that every single soul who had set foot on Usnaan would be scarred by this battle forever even if they hadn't died left a bitter taste in the man's mouth. He wondered if there was anyone who didn't feel like this in the aftermath of a brutal battle in which only the lords of the underworld were the victors, swiftly concluding that those they had defeated wouldn't feel this sense of remorse.

And that was why the Lucaelians had to win, why they had to keep winning against the forces of evil and oppose them at every turn. Because if they didn't then humanity (or at least the humanity of Lucael) would lose its battle against it, against the darkness, and the soldiers of the shadow would not care about the amount that they killed in their lust for more power and the death of all things good an innocent.

If the Orders of Passion had prevailed in this conflict, then there would be no Lucaelian lives spared (from either death or torture at the hands of the corrupt Welkalites afterwards, the fate of some of the captives from earlier raids from the New Empire of Passion that had been avenged on this fateful day), and there would be further war as the Welkalite leaders gorged upon this victory and used it to attack the Kingdom of Light so that they could presumably claim a portion of the darkness for themselves (although, amusingly enough, they would probably had met resistance in the form of the Fallen who wanted Lucael for themselves).

But even so there was little cause to rejoice here, not right now at any rate as Tybalt was sure that there would be celebrations after the war in the traditional and customary manners where those who had fought could reaffirm their bonds with one another – though remembering the dead would come first, as was right. The layout of the camp was easy to follow as it was standard issue so that anyone entering it from the different points within the city now that the fighting within Usnaan was all but over could quickly find out where they should go, and as expected the "strategium" (as it was only a gathering of the leaders who had already begun to discuss what to do next now that the holy Lucernas had gone and no one knew what had happened to them) was in the centre that Tybalt trudged to through the street that was slick and blood and rainwater from the natural thunderstorm that rumbled above, a far cry from the primordial and atavistic howling of the Tempest of Craving but too similar for the Hierarch's liking.

"Hierarch Tybalt. Guardian Lelia. I'm glad that you are still alive," the aged man was immediately greeted the second he stepped through the cordon of soldiers who were currently guarding the makeshift strategium, and Tybalt turned to the bearer of the voice who regarded him with respectful hazel eyes.

Guardian Oleic was a large man, his artificer armour which was burnished gold so that it would shine like the sun of the city of his birth's namesake and covered in Lucaelian scripture covered in crimson blood that was slowly being washed away by the torrential rain that was soaking Tybalt's own outfit, and his relic hammer held in a golden holster on his back which he had inherited from Guardian Malleus before him who had died in the civil war – though if the former Guardian of Civitas Sol had been an unyielding and forever enduring bulwark of granite in the face of the endless assault of evil, Guardian Oleic was the blazing sun that erased those who sought to hide in the shadows from the face of this world.

Tybalt had already known that the man, who was more tanned than usual Lucaelians because of his life in the City of the Sun, had survived the battle and the assault into the Hedonist's Quarter which he had led because of the fact that he had seen Mikalia, the Iridescent Angel and a Daughter of the Light, standing guard over the encampment and conversing with his own Light of Alabaster, the Daughter of Hope having been sent there by Tybalt. The Guardian liked to keep his angel in reserve until he could use it to turn a battle to his advantage, much like most Lucernas did as well, but was not opposed to Summoning it pre-emptively if that was the required thing to do. Mikalia gifted her Summoner with Blue mana much like Tybalt's Bruna did him, although Oleic seemed not to use it very often at all as he believed in the purity of White.

Because of his dislike of the youngest prince and the fact that he had supported his master and teacher Malleus in advocating killing the newly born Lucerna who had become the Summoner of the Angel of the Black Sun, carrying over that instinctual hatred of Caiellis even after meeting the innocent young boy in the war, Tybalt had always been predisposed to resent the other Light-bearer ever since the birth of the youngest member of the royal family (for a long while, he hoped, since he was sure that Marik didn't want any grandchildren soon and the Hierarch always urged Alexander to use protection if he had to do that), but he had to admit that the man was a masterful general and strategist, if a bit old-fashioned (which coming from him was saying something) in his methods.

Oleic was the same age as Tristram (which meant that Tybalt still regarded him as a young pup) and the two had often almost come to blows during the course of the civil war – though even before that, when they had both been apprentices to the current bearers of the roles they now held, the two youths had developed a non-too friendly rivalry borne from their mutual dislike of one another and desire to impress their teachers as well as uphold their honour when the two had to duel against each other in training sessions. He was the same height as the man as well, which made him slightly taller than the six foot seven king (something not many could boast of (although Oleic would never dream of doing that)), and made Tybalt feel small even though the man was currently sat down.

The physically specialised Light-bearer of the City of the Sun had never shown anything but respect to the venerable Hierarch of the capital city, and even though Tybalt didn't personally like him he would be an idiot if he didn't feel grateful that the Kingdom of Light could call him one of its Light-bearers who would carry the luminescence of the Lucerna family and the angels who had chosen them to be the royal family as a torch to shine light in the darkness of the world. He was also aware that Alexander didn't like the man because of the fact that he argued with Tristram a lot and because the man who was, with Tybalt, similar to a father to the youth had let slip that Oleic had supported the murder of his little brother – an instant way to get the eldest prince to heavily resent anyone -, though Tybalt did not know the king's current opinion of the Guardian.

Oleic usually radiated confidence as well as dutiful veneration for most of the Lucernas (although he never failed to show young Caiellis respect (even if it was begrudging and slightly scared which was a surprise since nothing seemed to frighten the Guardian of the City of the Sun) when the two were in the same place together), and even though he still was doing so at the current moment the amount that he possessed had been severely diminished by the brutal battle inside of the City of Usnaan.

Next to the Guardian of Civitas Sol who was sat in the entrance to the Palace of Desire which had an overhanging cover to block out the rain on one of the stools which he had pulled up for that purpose, was the Guardian of Scientia Mos, Weiss a completely different man to the younger Light-bearer and was studying the map of Usnaan which had been laid out on a barrel in front of the gathered generals intently, pausing in his scrutiny of it to look up and nod to the Hierarch, who did so back. Weiss was a wise and canny warrior who had led the more magically focussed legion of Scientia Mos into predominantly the Augur's Quarter, attacking the other locations that Tybalt and Lelia had not assaulted with his own cohorts.

The man's wispy white moustache was drooping downwards because of the droplets of blood spattered onto it, and his more exotic than usual swords were sheathed in the scabbards each side of his waist, and although he was wearing an introspective expression as he adjusted the positions of different makeshift figures on the map in front of him, his features were twisted into a dour and bleak grimace like the rest of them. He would have been an excellent mentor for Caiellis in the short time that the boy visited and assumed command of the city of Books if what Tybalt had seen of him already was anything to go by, and the Hierarch knew that Weiss preferred to blend magical and physical attacks instead of relying upon one or the other in his clever way of fighting with three colours of magic.

Tybalt had also seen the man's impressive Empyrial Archangel, one of the strongest Second Sisterhood angels but also one that required a very large amount of predominantly White but also Blue and Green mana to cast, aloft above the camp, her golden armour covered in the crimson blood which had rained down from the sky until the youngest Lucerna cleaved the Tempest of Craving asunder as he killed its master and annihilated its essence, leaving the Archdemon unable to return to Sancturia and permanently killing it with his extremely powerful magic – as the Hierarch of the capital of Lucael could hypothesise that because of the amount of corruption that had been placed within Usnaan at the ascent of the Lord of Riots the Archdemon would have been immune to any form of banishment.

The eldest Light-bearer scanned the faces sat around the table for planning their next move, and though he had seen the Angelic Overseer of Guardian Xathan the Slayer of the Wicked was conspicuously absent from this temporary strategium, which indicated that perhaps one of his three children had been injured or even killed in the battle for the City of Pleasure. Tybalt hoped not, because even the eldest was only twenty years of age and the youngest, who was Caiellis's champion even though the littlest Lucerna had seemed not to want one nor used Mysos to protect him within the battles that he had fought within, was the second youngest in the entire army at the tender age of just fifteen and it would be a damn shame if any of the Guardian of the City of Swords's children had been hurt or wounded, although that is what it seemed like.

The atmosphere inside of this provisional council chamber was tense and brooding, free of the congratulating and merriment that would usually come after a victory which had effectively ended a (admittedly very short but extremely brutal) war between two nations, although it had been the same after most of the engagements in the civil war that Tybalt saw the aftermath of. There would be time to celebrate later when the scars of this battle faded.

With those that were still in the covered section of the exterior of the Palace of Desire which was almost definitely the main entrance to the now nearly ruined building, who were only the Light-bearers and the generals of the legions as there was not enough space to have all of the lower ranking army officials in there as well (as the decision not to enter the Palace of Desire behind them and plan there was unanimous and unspoken – as even though it would have been cleared out of enemies by Xathan himself none of them wanted to be in a place where the residual taint of demons was present – even if the danger of corruption had gone now), Tybalt noticed that quite a few were missing – some that he could point out were generals Bronn Preolm, Rateis Sall, Carlis Montlea who had been the king's champion before Tristram had inherited the role when he had been given the title of Guardian for his exploits throughout the civil war in keeping the young princes alive and helping in some of the battles themselves (as well as slaying several powerful Summoners of demons, such as the one who had pretended to be the former Hierarch of Civitas Sol), and, the one that he noticed the most despite the fact that if any were missing it did not bode well at all, Tristram himself.

He knew that the Guardian of Capitalia Lux had been seconded to the eldest Montlea and had helped lead forces from the capital city deeper into the Glutton's Quarter which had been first breached by the entire army of Lucael, and that if none of them were here then it was possible that the Master of Gluttony (one had presumably been elected to replace the one that Alexander and Caiellis slew on their escape from the city of Usnaan they had besieged only a week later) or whoever had been leading the defence in that section of the megalopolis was still active, though that was unlikely as Tybalt could sense no more demons in the City of Pleasure.

He hoped that Tristram, who was thirty which was young in Tybalt's mind, had not died or been wounded too heavily, because even though at first the former Hierarch of Capitalia Lux had resented and disliked the choice of Guardian Axeclion's apprentice who was apparently incapable of showing respect to his elders and rulers even when he had only been twelve or thirteen before the birth of the eldest prince, and even though the two had almost come to blows within that first year or so of the civil war in their disagreements over the best ways of caring for the Lucerna children (it didn't help that both Alexander and Caiellis had clear favourites out of the two so whenever Tristram did something with the latter it usually didn't work and the same applied for Tybalt interacting with the former), the older and younger males had formed a firm friendship out of tending to and looking after the young princes.

The Guardian, who was young enough to be Tybalt's son if the Hierarch had ever had children, was certainly a unique and powerful warrior and the older man knew for certain that without Tristram there was no way that they would have all survived the civil war like they had done, and that even though he wouldn't admit it and would continue to keep up his act of being disdainful towards the younger Lucaelian Tybalt did enjoy spending time with him and being friends, as well as the fact that Tristram had been able to teach the princes in things that Tybalt hadn't possessed a clue about.

Furthermore, the fact that Carlis and Tristram were missing could suggest that the young Montlea twins Elizabex and Leodred who were firm and close friends with Prince Alexander (to the point where the Hierarch had often had to ban the middle Lucerna from seeing them when he had written work or chores that he needed to do) had been hurt as well, an if there was one thing that Tybalt hated more than anything else it was the young and innocent people of the Kingdom of Light with their entire lives ahead of them being harmed by their foes.

"I assume that you have as little idea as us as to where the blessed Lucernas have gone?" Oleic asked darkly, though there was no sarcasm in his tone, and the Hierarch detected a large amount of worry that the Guardian of Civitas Sol was trying to hide in the man's voice.

It was truly a terrifying prospect that the Lucerna family had disappeared in its entirety, and even though Tybalt could attribute this to his natural Lucaelian loyalty and unwillingness to ever give up in the face of evil and darkness he was certain that they were not dead – well, at least not all of them. He had only just been able to sense Marik and Alexander after the Tempest of Craving and the Archdemon associated with it had been ended, with Caiellis not registering on his sixth sense at all, but then a few minutes later the two other Lucernas' potent mana pools could no longer be detected. Tybalt was positive that they were not dead, but that was probably because he could not fathom the alternative – a world in which the Arch-Heretic Johnias was the only member of the royal family remaining alive and was the only one that could take the crown, which would mean that the kingdom was doomed irrespective of if they chose to resist or the eldest living Lucerna ascended to the throne.

Added to that was the fact that not only were the Lucernas the greatest bulwarks and defences against the demons and the other foul denizens of the abyss of the eternal darkness around the Kingdom of Light, they were all people that Tybalt knew intimately and had known almost ever since each one of them was born (as he had become Marik and his twin brother's teacher when the two had been around eight years of age, which meant that he had known the king for thirty two years), and it was a horrifying thought that they had all been killed in one way or another.

Tybalt shook his head sadly in response, wishing that he could do something to ascertain what had happened to them, and when he opened his mouth in a question the Guardian of Scientia Mos pre-empted it and stated, "Yes, we have sent soldiers to the location of the Archdemon which was slain by Prince Caiellis. There is nothing there apart from the remains of a mansion, evidence of corruption which was more greatly focussed upon there than anywhere else in this damned City of Pleasure which has now gone, and many shards of glass. There was no sign of our Lucerna rulers. The main body of the army has not been officially told yet because we do not want to incite panic, but they obviously know that something is going on because neither King Marik nor either of his sons have shown themselves and addressed the legions."

Or what remains of them. The only Hierarch in Welkas digested the information silently, the same as Guardian Lelia behind him who ideally needed medical aid but would refuse it, probably insisting that because others were hurt far more than her she didn't need it. Just as Tybalt was about to rest his weary bones upon one of the chairs and add his thoughts to the strategizing about what they should do next, which in his opinion should be consolidating their current control of Usnaan, finding out what happened to the Lucerna monarchy and establishing contact with the rest of the New Empire of Passion to find out if they still wanted war now that the Orders of Passion had been decapitated and their main strategy for victory had been thwarted, he sensed another presence entering the covered area through the cordon of a few Lucerna praetorians, weak but familiar, and stayed stood up as they entered.

Tristram looked awful. That was the first thing that Tybalt noticed about the younger but much larger man as he walked – though his movement was more reminiscent of a stagger than anything else – his face pale and drawn and covered in bruises and crusted blood. He walked with a painful limp, stubbornly refusing any aid that was offered to him, but what the Hierarch noticed most blatantly about his physically attuned counterpart was the fact that his right arm had been cut off at the elbow and was covered in a bandage that was now soaked through with his blood.

Before Tristram could even say or do anything, Tybalt immediately snapped, "Angels above, Tristram! What are you doing here?! Have you even seen yourself?! Get to a member of the Ordo Medella right now and have yours wounds seen to properly, you stupid boy!"

Tristram's blue eyes opened wide for a second in brief shock, his mind automatically equating the loud noise to something that he needed to protect himself from, before he ascertained that it was just Hierarch Tybalt telling him off and admonishing him (not a rare occurrence, but he must have truly looked awful to get the normally reserved Tybalt to shout because he was that concerned for him – which had happened in the past before when he had refused to give into wounds that were never as bad as this in his duty to protect his young charges).

He smiled, and though it was genuine humour that he felt it didn't reach anywhere near his eyes and his lips twisted into something that looked more like a grimace of pain than a smirking grin, and tried a tactic that he was sure that he had accidentally instilled within Alex to try and use humour to distract him and others from the pain of his injuries, "Calm down, Tybalt. I'm fine. Elizabex healed my wounds well enough, and I'm not as old as you so I can take the punishment."

"Fine?! You call that fine?!" Tybalt ripped into him for a moment, concern for the man who was similar to a nephew to him just like the Lucernas were making his voice angry and harsh, before taking a deep breath and restoring the more calm state that he had been in before the Guardian had entered the room. He knew that all Lucaelians were stubborn about their wounds, and that Tristram possessed that quality more than most, but to call himself fine when he was missing part of his arm? It was extremely foolish, but when Tybalt saw the pain in the younger man's eyes, as well as the grim determination to see this day through to the end, he backed down, muttering, "Fine. See if I care when you end up with an infection in any of your wounds and have to live the rest of your life in a hospital, you foolish brat."

Are those tears in the corners of his eyes? Tristram wondered for a moment, before turning his tired and pained gaze to the other members of the room which he had forced himself to come to after Leodred and Elizabex met up with one of their older cousins on their mother's side who had promised to take care of them, Tristram only barely able to coax them away from their father's corpse who would soon be collected to be cremated like the rest of them (as only Lucernas were buried in warded crypts and mausoleums underneath their citadel of residence because of the fact that burying corpses was a massive risk should any necromancers be able to get into the cities – as the rule had been established by Queen Matrice after the reign of the self-styled Emperor of Light), but was feeling slightly better in the knowledge that there was someone who knew them relatively well who could take care of them.

His eyes slid over the Guardian of Civitas Sol and his relatively unfriendly rival, but he was too exhausted to even attempt a jab at him and too sombre to want to in the current situation because it would be extremely disrespectful to the dead. With everyone in the area's eyes on him the Light-bearer of Capitalia Lux took one of the few empty barrels serving as seats next to Oleic, something that he wouldn't have considered doing in a less dire situation. The man stared at him inscrutably for a moment, his hazel spheres lingering on the mess of Tristram's right arm, before sighing and leaning back on his seat.

He slung a muscular arm over Tristram's broad shoulders, which had the slightly (by a measure of two weeks) younger man raising his eyebrows at the suddenly intimate and comradely gesture from a person he had always disliked, and was taken aback by it enough that he wasn't quite sure how to act. Perhaps the man had never really disliked Tristram and had always seen them as friends, or perhaps it was his way of showing that despite the fact that they were competitors and often antagonised one another they were still Lucaelians and bonded by the unity of serving the Lucerna family and protecting the Kingdom of Light from its enemies who hid in the darkness.

"By the angels, Tristram, Hierarch Tybalt was right. You do look awful. And it seems that we will never be able to spar like we used to," Oleic tried, but the joke was too soon and Tristram only just managed to push down the scathing retort that bubbled up from inside of him because of the fact that he was only missing part of an arm and it didn't mean that he was a cripple or unable to fight any longer. He repressed his irritation and annoyance, aware that the other Guardian was simply trying to make him feel better because of his wounds and the horrible battle that they had gone through, but pulled the man's arm off of his shoulders at any rate as he forced a smile onto his face, "I could still defeat you easily with no arms, so the fact that I have one left makes it impossible for you to ever win."

"Is Carlis Montlea …?" one of the generals of Cassida Principia, Aeris Escia, asked without completing the sentence, the middle aged woman squinting her only eye at the Guardian of Capitalia Lux. Tristram nodded his head sadly, bowing it in shame because of the fact that he believed it was his fault for the man's death – if he hadn't have underestimated the Master of Gluttony at the start, if he hadn't have been wounded so heavily by her and succumbed to those wounds, then the general might still be living now – Elizabex and Leodred might still have a father, and it was hard knowing that. The woman nodded in return, murmuring a sombre prayer under her breath for the man's soul so that it could enter the heavenly realms of the angels and find peace there.

Tristram swallowed, knowing that from the bleak expressions of the others the fate of the Lucernas had not been discovered yet – as if they were here then the highest ranking Lucaelians within the City of Pleasure would not be so disheartened and melancholy, but if the royal family was confirmed dead then there would be something akin to mass hysteria within them all because of how precious their rulers were to them and how unsafe the Kingdom of Light would be with no more Lucernas to lead them in their eternal fight with the darkness of the world.

He was worried for all three of the royals, and hoped that they were somehow safe, somewhere – even though there was no evidence that pointed to that fact and they were nowhere within the city of Usnaan. But without the Lucerna king here to lead the way and direct them the army of Lucael was leaderless, having lost all direction and purpose and unsure on what to do next besides ensure that the Welkalite capital was captured and that all of the members of the Orders of Passion were dealt with.

Bereft of a supreme authority, the legions of the Kingdom of Light would have to elect a new commander to temporarily replace King Marik so that they could have a force that would direct them to victory and inspire the troops after this battle had been won to make sure that they knew that this was the right thing to do and that more would have died if the Welkalites had just been left alone, though Tristram knew that he himself couldn't provide that right now, not in his current condition where all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep so that his dreams would be of him when he had an arm once again.

"I wish we knew what had happened to our lords the Lucernas," Oleic muttered loudly under his breath, leaning over the table again now that he had stopped trying to be comradely with Tristram who was obviously not in the mood for it. It was clear that he was trying to concentrate on the map of the city and where to station their soldiers, how to tell the undoubtedly terrified civilians of what had happened and that the Lucaelians would be their temporary rulers until a proper order could be established with the Welkalites who were not loyal to demons as the ruling body, but it was also clear that he was struggling like they all were with the thoughts of their king and beloved princes on their minds.

He slammed his fist on the table, sending the pieces on the map (which were simply metal and rock shards engraved with different symbols to denote different divisions of legionaries) juddering across it and almost snapping the fragile wood in half with his prodigious strength, provoking a disapproving tut from the Guardian of Scientia Mos who sat across from him and instantly began to place the pieces back where they were supposed to be. "Damn it! I can't concentrate knowing that they are out there somewhere, our glorious king and the precious princes are somewhere and we can do nothing to help them!"

"Reign in your temper, Guardian Oleic," Tybalt chastised darkly, suddenly irritated by the man's release of his anger considering what he had seen from Oleic in the past was that he usually had quite a good hold on his emotions – it must have been the strain of the battle and discovering that the Lucerna family had disappeared showing itself in him as well, just like it manifested in all of them in multifarious different ways, but it did not make it any less annoying or detrimental to their efforts in planning. The man shot a glare at him, his auburn eyes blazing like miniature suns in his sockets and aptly highlighting his agitation, "How can you sit there and say that, perfectly calmly, when you know that our rulers – the entire Lucerna family apart from the Arch-Heretic – are missing?! How can you not be as angry as I am knowing that our king and beloved princes are gone from the City of Pleasure?!"
"Don't pretend that you want anything but death for Caiellis simply because of his Summoning," Tristram snarled at the man sat at his side, leaping to Tybalt's defence as well, and Oleic rocked back as if the other Guardian had grown another arm and used it to shove him backwards. He spluttered for a second, trying to think of a response, and then fell silent for a moment before mumbling an uncharacteristically nervous reply of: "You have to understand my concerns about Lord Caiellis, though, even if you spent nine years caring for him. But of course I don't want anything bad to happen to him because he is a blessed Lucerna, yet at the same time I don't want another repeat of the reign of Xarius. And while you may think that not just banishing but killing an Archdemon, which is undoubtedly an incredibly heroic feat and has never been done before, absolves him of the fact that he is the host to the only traitorous angel of the First Sisterhood – or indeed any of the Angelic Sisterhoods – in my opinion it doesn't. The self-styled Emperor of Light also ended the existences, as I hesitate to call the foul essences of demons lives, before usurping the throne, revealing his new power and turning the Kingdom of Light into a war torn hell, and simply killing the denizens of the darkness does not prove Caiellis's innocence-"

"And why does he even have to prove his innocence?! He has already proved that he is a suitable Lucerna prince, and he has already proven his innocence to anyone who would take the time to look past the Black Sun on his cheek and the fact that he has the same angel as his Summoning that the unrightful King Xarius did over a hundred years ago! I know Caiellis as a person, I watched him grow up from a small child who at the age of four watched his mother being ripped apart by demons in front of his eyes to the courageous and kind thirteen year old he is now! And while he and his older brother have different talents, there is nothing about Caiellis that makes him in any way inferior to Alex!" Tristram shouted back, his own choler rising at the words of the other Guardian who had always disliked the youngest prince who the thirty year old felt very protective of (and it was a good job that Alexander wasn't here to witness this as otherwise he wasn't sure he would be able to hold the seventeen year old back from caving Oleic's face in).

The Light-bearer of Civitas Sol gulped slightly anxiously, though his eyes were still alight with the fire of his anger, opening his mouth to speak as Tristram did so as well before Guardian Weiss cut in sternly, "Stop this right now. Both of you are acting like children. Take your arguments outside if you want to fight about this, but now is neither the time nor the place for this. Be quiet if you are not going to say anything constructive to the strategizing."

The man's voice was perfectly even, but it was infused with a large amount of authority despite the fact that he was talking to his equals. Suitably chastised, both Tristram and Oleic bowed their heads shamefully like two teenage boys caught fighting one another in the middle of a lesson. Tristram couldn't understand what had made Oleic so against the youngest prince, but the opinion held by the Guardian of the City of the Sun was a view that was unfortunately shared by many in the Kingdom of Light, although less now then there had been the day that Cai had been born thirteen years ago when Tristram himself had only been the age of the boy's older brother.

He knew that he had been acting rashly and like a hormonal child by shouting at the other man, especially after half baiting him into saying something like that in the first place, but the champion of the eldest Lucerna had become annoyed by Oleic pretending that he cared about all of the Lucernas and that the princes were "beloved" by him. Maybe Alexander, but not poor Caiellis despite all that he had achieved, and that incensed the youngest Light-bearer of Capitalia Lux to no end.

Another general then arrived, battered and covered in blood but otherwise perfectly fine, clasping gauntlets with the silent Guardian of Gol who rose to meet him and sat on the empty barrel next to her, reporting what he knew of the war and what had happened. No sooner had the man settled down then another person burst through the guards who had been defending the remaining secondary leaders of the crusading Lucaelian force who had defeated the Welkalite oppressors of their people and overcame their, the young woman who couldn't have been out of her teens yet panting heavily like she had ran across the entire city to get here – which, upon further reflection, seemed likely considering how she was in an Ordo Medella apprentice outfit but was not completely soaked in blood from the Rain of Gore (as the only crimson on her was probably from patients that she had helped tend to).

"My lords," she panted, forcing the words out in gasps of air as she tried to speak to them – obviously whatever she had to say was very important for them to hear and she had quite clearly sprinted a large distance through a location that was still considered dangerous to get to them. "The … the ..."

"Breathe, girl," Tybalt commanded, and the young woman who was almost definitely still a teenager listened to the authority in the Hierarch's voice, bending over and taking several deep breaths to get air back into her lungs so that she could speak clearly and tell them what needed to be said. The man added, once she had panted in a few exhalations of oxygen, "Now you can speaking without having to pant for breath. What is it you wanted to tell us, young one?"

"My lords," she repeated, sketching a quick bow to the some of the highest ranking individuals in the Kingdom of Light apart from the Lucerna family, her eyes lit up with awe at seeing this many of them as well as surprise at how battered and human they looked, though she was aware that the Lucernas were not here and would have been much more impressed and lost for words had they been. "Choirmaster Esmelde of the Ordo Medella sent me. She has departed with the Lucerna family, blessed be their name, and the Angel of the Black Sun through the darkness and to the City of the Sun. Lord Prince Caiellis is hurt very badly, and he required medical attention that only the hospital of Civitas Sol could provide. She told me to come get here as fast as I could and tell you before you do anything to look for the Lucerna family. I … I'm not sure how they left … or how they got to the encampment outside of Usnaan … but I … I hope that Prince Caiellis is going to make a full recovery ..."

She finished by stuttering nervously, breaking off her words with all of the gazes possessed by the members of the impromptu war council in the aftermath of the bloody battle for Usnaan pierced into her. Tybalt was the first to reply, stroking his chin thoughtfully in a way that barely masked his concern for the youngest Lucerna – as "hurt very badly" would definitely not cover the extent of the damage done to him if facilities in the Ordo Medella detachment to the Lucaelian legions which were designed to deal with the wounds of brutal war was insufficient to heal him, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention ..."

"Nelda. Nelda Prislé," the girl replied, stumbling over the enunciation of the syllables that made up her name because of how nervous she was now that the main news had been dispensed and the adrenalized urgency had left her. Tybalt nodded – she and Choirmaster Esmelde shared the same surname, which suggested they were family members, though he knew from talking to the gentle and kind but efficient doctor who was a masterful caster of the most potent healing rituals that she had no children of her own because her partner had died in the civil war. "Thank you, Nelda. Let us all hope that the Lucerna family recovers and overcomes the pain that has been dealt to its youngest member. You may leave now."

The girl nodded, bowing respectfully to the Light-bearers and generals, and left almost as swiftly as she had entered, leaving the temporary strategium in silence as each member of the council of secondary leaders ruminated upon the news that Prince Caiellis had been heavily wounded enough to have to be taken by his angel to the relatively close City of the Sun with the rest of his family at his side.

"So. At least we know that they are safe, assuming our lords reached Civitas Sol," Guardian Weiss broke the introspective and melancholy quiet, voicing all of their thoughts. He had evidently decided that silence was achieving nothing, and now that it had been revealed that the Lucerna family was relatively safe and that there was nothing they could do for them they should stop thinking and worrying about them and start discussing the situation at hand. "What now, then?"

What now, indeed? What should we do now? I'm sure that Tristram shares my sentiment in wanting to travel as soon as we can to Civitas Sol to ensure that the Lucernas are still alive and to provide emotional support for all three of them as well as make certain that Marik does not tear apart little Caiellis because of his admittedly uncharacteristically reckless decision to bypass the defences of the Welkalites and enter the centre of Usnaan whilst he is still recovering.

I want to make sure that Marik (and Alexander, to a certain extent because I know that he will always be there for his little brother and this will be no exception to that rule) is in the perfect state of mind to comfort his youngest instead of reprimand and censure him like he did after the battle of Fort Egetau – which, although I have not yet been privy to the information of what happened between Marik and his second son, I know was something quite dramatic – and I need to make young Tristram tell me that. Besides, even if Caiellis is hurt he is not the only one that will need help, and I know already that Marik and Alexander will both be blaming themselves for it – just like I am, I suppose. It is natural to want to look after little Cai because of how innocent (a quality that he has managed to keep hold of even after all that he had been through – and one distinctly separate to naivety of which he only possesses in subjects of which he has no experience in) and young he is.

I need to see Caiellis for myself, and even though I refuse to assume the worst it is a certain possibility and if so I want to see him one last time if the most horrible outcome is the one that occurs – and I am sure that Tristram agree with me on that. In addition, we can bring knowledge of the situation here, and the other Light-bearers will be sufficient to prosecute the remainder of this war or initialise the withdrawal from the New Empire of Passion if the Yentarians or the non-demonic Welkalites intervene.

The old man glanced over at the Guardian of Capitalia Lux and his opposite in roles, his venerable azure eyes which only gleamed like they used to when he was casting magic highlighting his thought processes for all to see if they were well versed in such things, meeting the gaze of Tristram's light cyan orbs which said the same to him back without needing to talk to one another. The man was determined to get to Civitas Sol even if it killed him to make sure that the youngest Lucerna, their youngest student that they were both fond of just as much as his brother even though they had been carers to him for a greater proportion of Caiellis's' life during the civil war, and Tybalt thought the same.

He would rest at nothing to make sure that all three of the Lucerna family were safe, both emotionally and physically, and the Hierarch silently resolved that he was no longer going to simply play a more passive role and only involve himself in the education of the brothers now that they had returned to their biological father Marik, and relative safety. He would get involved actively, reprimand Marik if he went too far or was too harsh in his parenting of either of his sons, and be there for any of the younger males to talk to as a kind of advisor or teacher for them if they didn't want to share their worries with their other family members.

The shocking truth of what had happened to Caiellis Noctis Lucerna had jolted Tybalt's mind and made him realise that, in the last couple of weeks or so, he had not done much for either of the Lucerna princes, as people not as potential heirs to the holy throne, and that he had not spoken to Caiellis personally in a one to one conversation since the boy started relentlessly attempting his Summoning trial (as Tybalt did not count the few brief exchanges of the boy which had been an endeavour in themselves at trying to get him to talk as proper conversations as it had been plainly evident that Cai had simply wanted him to leave).

He had talked to Alexander about his wounds and the day previous when he had ensured that they were healing as to not make the seventeen year old embarrassed that some random Ordo Medella operative was doing it instead, where they had conversed about the arguments which had been tearing apart the Lucerna family between stubborn father and defiant youngest son which reminded the Hierarch heavily of Marik's own past and his relationship with his late father – if only the king had seen that himself when interacting with his second and more emotionally vulnerable because of his age son then maybe he would go about talking to the boy differently.

He was certain that, if Caiellis wasn't conscious, then at least Marik was regretting the arguments and disputes now that his son was wounded, because even though there was a possibility that the younger man would act stern because of it and admonish Caiellis heavily for his manoeuvre across the City of Pleasure which had him fighting an Archdemon alone until his father could get go it would be because he was so worried about his youngest son.

That was the largest difference between the arguments with Marik and Garius II and the former and his youngest son apart from the civil war which had torn a gulf of unfamiliarity between the man and his child, because Tybalt was certain that his former student was more angry due to the fact that he loved his youngest son but wasn't sure how to express that and worried for him, he became furious because the boy didn't obey his orders and took it upon himself to interpret their meaning instead of following them as the man was his father and not a supreme king to him and Marik was terrified of losing any of the last two remaining members of his family.

He shouted because he didn't know how to interact and connect with his withdrawn and shy teenage son who had only just become thirteen and was going through puberty, he rebuked and scolded him because he was scared for Caiellis despite whatever he might tell himself and wanted the boy to be safe, and he refused others' advice on how to interact with or parent his youngest son because he still believed that he could do it after nine years of not seeing him – that he shouldn't have to parent in any way other than what he saw fit because he was a Lucerna king and Caiellis was his youngest son, not anyone else's.

That may have worked somewhat with Alexander, because the seventeen year old had many more memories of his father that were not obscured by the veil of being a young child who barely knew what was going on around them (irrespective of how perceptive and intelligent Caiellis had been for his age because he was still only four or younger at the time before the murder of his mother poor Emili Noctis), but it was not going to work with Cai as he was an entirely different matter, especially now that he had lived so long without his father and had grown up with Tybalt, Tristram and Alexander in a way as people who he could look up to and come to with the same things that one would ask of a parent – as had the eldest prince, but Alexander still remembered a time when Marik had been their father as he had been eight when that had temporarily ended.

However, when Marik and Garius had argued, even though the latter did care slightly about the former because he was his son and it was impossible for a father not to care at all about their children, it had been more of Marik's teenage rebellion to his cold and austere father who had never paid his sons attention as boys, only Lucerna heirs, and had not cared about them at all as people as the death of his wife had left a rent in his heart which had taken his ability to show love with it and it had never been repaired. Garius had had no qualms about beating his children personally to get them into line and following commands, and was only concerned about them because they would one day rule the kingdom after him.

Perhaps if he had shown actual love then Johnias never would have betrayed, because maybe the younger version of Marik's slightly older twin (in terms of leaving their mother's womb, not in date of conception) would have been valued as a person by his father who he had craved attention and praise from instead of as just a boy who might inherit the throne and with that trait having been focussed exclusively on.

Maybe Johnias would have been able to realise that becoming the king of Lucael was not all that mattered in life, that he could still be happy without sitting on the throne and ruling over the entire country, if he had been given encouragement for him to develop talents that weren't necessarily ones that aided him in ruling the nation by the only person's opinion he had ever really cared about – because while Marik and Tybalt had both complemented him on things, the mentor of the two boys had focussed slightly more on the younger twin due to the fact that no one else had seemed willing to do so (as Johnias had been the kingdom and his father's favourite and Marik had been the "screw up" as the boy had put it himself when Tybalt finally got him talking to him after finding the young lad crying in his room alone when he had been going to complement him on the quality of his written work) and Marik had concentrated more on trying to get his father's approval like Johnias had already.

Johnias had always been told by Garius, who cared not about offending either of his sons' sensibilities or emotions, that he would be the most suited to inheriting the throne, that he would be a better king than Marik based on what he was achieving now and that he was already a better prince – simultaneously making the middle Lucerna at the time develop a form of a narcissistic superiority complex with he kept to himself until his betrayal and an addiction to praise and adulation from the subjects of the Kingdom of Light as well as making Marik even more resentful of his father and reducing the confidence of the current youngest Lucerna also.

If they had been treated equally instead of the older twin receiving more praise because he had developed faster than his brother (who had been a late bloomer and was a much better king than Johnias ever could have been) and was more confident and outspoken instead of shy and awkward in the presence of other people, then perhaps Johnias wouldn't have turned into the murderous and pitiless monster that he had done, maybe he wouldn't have ripped the kingdom apart in his need to obtain the throne in any way possible.

Tybalt bade the thoughts from his mind, smothering the ideas down and unwilling to concentrate upon anyone other than those he cared about now, as he had stopped thinking about Johnias's reasoning for his betrayal past jealously and lust for power and stopped pondering what could have been changed in the past that would keep him loyal even if he hadn't become the king in his late father's Death Vision – because that would make him empathise with the Arch-Heretic more, which was something that Tybalt refused to do – the blame for the civil war lay solely on Johnias's shoulders, not on anyone else's. There were no excuses for doing what he had done, and Tybalt needed to stop wondering if anything could have been different because the man was evil and needed to be killed before he could do anything else in the name of his own desire for dominion and power.

The loyal Lucernas and their Lucaelian subjects were the Hierarch's main concerns now, not the Johnias of the past and how he might have been changed, and once more Tybalt concentrated on thinking about what had happened to young Caiellis and what had occurred before that. He had seen much of the king and his own father in the current fights between parent and youngest son, and only hoped that Marik would be too frightened for Caiellis to let anything other than love motivate and show in his actions – because if he let his fear for the boy take over and punished him it might break Caiellis if he was as wounded as Tybalt feared that he was if he needed to be dangerously transported through the darkness, as the Ordo Medella apprentice had put it, to Civitas Sol.

What the boy would need now would be love, not his father's censure, and Tybalt prayed that Marik hadn't lost too much of his father's instinct not to see that.

.*.*.*.

Day Fourteen

.*.*.*.

Alexander launched himself into the world of the awake once again, jolting out of the restless sleep he had been in and forcing himself to regain consciousness once again, terrified blue eyes making their way over to the still figure in the bed in front of him. He could have breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Caiellis was still there, still attached to all of the machines that would be pumping mana and medicine into him so that his baby brother's body could use that to repair itself, but the fact was he barely felt any relief at all because if anything his younger brother somehow looked even worse then had had been a few hours earlier.

His hand was still wrapped around his smaller brother's hand and his thin wrist, and Alex was glad that even in his listless sleep he hadn't let go as the fact that the contact was made meant that he could still feel Cai's weak and sluggish pulse thudding in his wrist – which confirmed that he was still alive, still fighting for the place in this world that he deserved and the happiness that would await him when he woke up.

Alexander had always been able to sleep anywhere he wanted – a technique that he had perfected at a very young age when he fell into sleep after spending too long playing and insisting that he wasn't ready for bed but one that had been especially refined in the civil war by being able to fall asleep in many of the uncomfortable locations that the four of them had been forced to stay within. It was a rare talent, that was for sure, because neither Tybalt, Tristram nor Caiellis had possessed such a thing – Alexander had slept on the floor of rooms without any beds, to a curled up position in one of the monorail trains, to a half inclined lull on a chair, he had done it all.

Angels above, one time he had managed to close his eyes and sleep upon a tree branch when the Lucerna princes had been told to climb up there and wait for Tybalt and Tristram to find them once they had exterminated the enemies that were hunting after the youngest members of the royal family, one of the few places the boy had seen in the eternal night outside of the photo refectories where there were growing trees, albeit still withered and without any leaves, making them look skeletal and bare compared to the flourishing oaks underneath the metropolises.

The seventeen year old had always possessed the ability to close his eyes and force himself into a sleep that would rejuvenate his energy and relax him but still be on high alert even through that and be able to wake up instantly whenever he sensed danger approaching, unlike his younger brother who had usually always drifted between a fitful sleep in the realm of his vivid dreams and a bleary consciousness in which he barely knew what was going on, and as such was almost always more tired in the mornings.

The only time he had ever struggled with that were the horrible nights after his mother's death and their evacuation where he had often woken up with a scream almost slipping out of his lips which he had always forced himself to repress in fear of waking up his baby brother in the few hours of sleep that Cai could catch when he wasn't howling their mother's title himself and thrashing in the throes of his own nightmare, and the mildly drug induced unconscious proceeding his wounding at the hands of Aksua, though (even though he would never admit it to his younger brother unless Caiellis really needed reassurance that he was a good – an awesome - little brother) when Cai had wrapped his little and stick thin arms around him and promised to protect him it had made sleep easier knowing that someone had his back when fighting against the flashbacks of the last vampire.

Even though Alexander hadn't wanted to fall asleep and give into his exhaustion, because he hadn't been able to bring himself to fall into a slumber, too afraid of what might happen, crashing in the chair next to the youngest Lucerna's should have been a piece of cake.

Instead it seemed that the roles of the two princes had been reversed on this night. Caiellis had slumbered without making any sort of move, though that was because of the restorative coma his body had placed itself in to prevent further damage to the boy and the medication that was being pumped through him, although very rarely his eyes had fluttered beneath their closed lids and Alex couldn't guess at the amount of pain that he was in (but at least there had been no more seizures, despite the fact that Alexander didn't know which was worse out of the thrashing or this deathly motionlessness), whereas his big brother had jolted into half awareness several times because of the nightmares.

He had seen his little brother still and dead in his father's arms before Orzhova and the boy's father and sibling had been able to bring him back, had seen the boy seizing in front of him as blood bubbled up from his lips, had imagined in his nightmares Caiellis giving out in spite of Alex breathing for him and Marik trying to restart his heart so that it could beat once more, had seen him clawing desperately at the oxygen mask around his face because he thought that it was killing him and thrashing weakly against his big brother's firm grip on his wrists. Nightmare imagination had blended with truth in those horrible dreams, and each time Alexander had woken up in a desperate panic, needing to assure himself that Cai was still alive before he gave into the sheer anguish inside of him that threatened to overwhelm him at any point.

Each time he had promised himself that he would not fall asleep again, that he would remain vigilant over his baby brother to make sure that nothing happened to him, that nothing could hurt or touch him and that his condition didn't degrade further, but each time he had failed himself and Caiellis and couldn't stop his body from throwing itself into the chasm of restless slumber once more. He didn't remember falling asleep at all, but after waking up the first time he had identified that someone had thrown a blanket around him, which had angered him a large amount because he should have woken up with the movements as it could have been anyone coming to hurt his younger brother.

In addition, they should have woken up instead of taking pity on him and letting him sleep, because he could do nothing in his duty as his little sibling's protector if he was unconscious himself. Finally it seemed and injustice that he, the seventeen year old who had failed to keep Caiellis safe and failed to stop him from thinking that he was worthless and that his life meant so little that he could throw it away in battle, failed to stop his younger brother from not seeing anything in the world that would make him want to keep on living and not kill himself after the Archdemon's death.

He knew that there was something to that which he didn't know, something that he would only find out once Caiellis woke up and if the little man wanted to confer in him (though I don't see why he would want to talk to his failure of a brother) with it, but even so it was horrible to think that little Cai had been that despondent and sorrowful that he thought that life wasn't something that he wanted any more, and it simply spoke of how little Alex had done to make his sibling want to stay in the world with him and keep on fighting.

"Good morning, little guy. I'm still here, Caiellis. You're safe with me. You're going to get better soon. Just keep fighting; I know you can do it," Alex whispered softly to the sleeping younger boy, clasping his brother's small hand in both of his larger ones as firmly as he could without hurting the thirteen year old. His throat felt raw, and he could feel bruises rising up where the Master of Violence had choked him, but they were nothing compared to those that he could see on Cai's thin neck where the bandage around the wound which had briefly ended his life wasn't over – and he knew that there would be much worse ones concealed by the white fabric which looked like it had been recently replaced, as the last one that Alex had seen had been stained crimson by his brother's blood, the blood of Marik Ensis Lucerna and Emili Noctis Lucerna that Alexander shared running through his own veins.

He felt thirsty, and a part of him longed to feel the coolness of refreshing water flowing down his throat, but that would mean leaving his younger brother and he deserved to have to endure this little torment because Caiellis wouldn't have any reprieve from his own pain. The boy's hand was still freezing cold to the touch, even though Cai had always had cool hands when he hadn't been doing protracted physical exercise, and Alex rubbed the bits that weren't covered by medical gauze lightly, hoping to instil some of his own heat into his brother's chilled fingers as gently as he could, though it seemed to do nothing.

Alexander felt like crying as he looked down at his younger brother, the clear mask strapped around his face failing to hide the deep sadness in Cai's expression even whilst comatose. That part was the most heart breaking bit about seeing the thirteen year old like this, even worse than the horrible wounding that he had sustained that had been dealt with as much as the Ordo Medella operatives who had worked tirelessly to tend to him, because even deeply unconscious the kid seemed to be suffering. His lips were tilted slightly downwards in sorrow despite the fact that he was asleep and could be for a while, eyebrows drawn into an almost frown; everything about Caiellis screamed grief and despair.

He smirked sadly when he noticed that the boy's hair had somehow managed to get over his eyes again, the fringe which had been cleaned of blood and cold sweat by some kind person wanting to help but not knowing how (although it had probably been done when the concussive wound on the back of his head had been seen to in order to mitigate the possibility of infection) over one of his eyes in the way that it often was, especially when Cai bowed his head on his shoulders and let it freely obscure his expressive emerald orbs.

"You really need a hair cut, baby bro," Alex murmured, talking to Cai like he was still awake because he was convinced that even if his brother couldn't hear him he would still be helped by it, and it was the only thing that he could do for him until he woke up. He gently brushed the hair out of his eyes, wincing at some of the plastered cuts on his forehead and the bruises on his face and gaunt, pale cheeks, and continued, "But I won't ever bug you about that again if you just wake up, Cai. Well, perhaps a little, but that's what big brothers do, right?"

He spared a moment to glance up from his smaller sibling to the chair across from the bed, not particularly surprised to see that his father wasn't there because if he had been then Marik would have greeted him or comforted him like he had done the last few times that Alexander had woken up in the middle of the night – not that he knew what time it was now, nor did he care apart from the fact that it meant he knew how long his brother had been unconscious for. Time had began to lose all meaning to him, minutes drifting into hours as he waited for his brother to wake up, and he knew that it was only going to get worse in the days to come if Cai didn't wake up then.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Marik's voice made its way into Alexander's ears, closer than he would have expected, and he shot upright in his seat, turning quickly to the source of the noise. His dad was stood a couple of metres away from him, startled at the fact that his usually almost perfect and combat attuned senses hadn't realised that their dad had come to close to the bed, let alone know that he had been stood there for a while. I guess I am tired. He wiped his eyes of the tears that had formed there, staring back at his father who glanced tiredly down at his son, both of them knowing that how awful the other looked would be reflected within themselves.

Alexander's blue eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep, and his posture was jittery and nervous, eyes agitatedly flicking over to his brother every few seconds as if ensuring that Caiellis was still there, that he wasn't yet dead and was still fighting to live, and his hair was still covered in the blood that was matting down Marik's as well – though he knew that they would be forced to leave and clean themselves if they left it too long, he just hadn't wanted to be apart from his sons for more than a few minutes for the same reason that Alexander kept glancing at his younger brother.

"Here. I've brought you a drink and something to eat," Marik said, holding out the bottle of water and the small tray of food which could be placed upon the cabinet next to Caiellis's bed (as it was perfectly safe to bring into the surgery as anything inside of the hospital and the room was automatically sanitised by the White mana running through the building). He had already drunk himself, quenching his thirst, and had forced a few mouthfuls down before he felt too sick at the prospect of eating whilst his son was dying inside of the surgery, before having a short conversation with Hierarch Aretis who had spoken to some of the free surgeons when he had sensed the presence of the Lucernas in the city.

Marik knew that he looked awful, because he hadn't slept at all himself, haggard and covered in blood that he hadn't been willing to leave his sons to go and clean, as well as his eyes suffused with none of the indomitable confidence that he had forced into himself ever since he had become a father and a king that the twenty two year old would be used to, but he couldn't bring himself to care and knew that Aretis had seen that in him. The boy had been respectful, quiet and sombre for once, though to be fair he had been the same when Alexander had been rescued from the predations of Aksua who had had an indirect hand in what had happened to Caiellis, but Marik had barely been able to talk to him about the state of the war.

His eldest son took the drink without comment when Marik forced it into his hand, gently pulling it away from Caiellis's and placing the bottle of water (meaning that they wouldn't have to move far from Cai's side to get more, though he had received this from the reception of the Ordo Medella hospital before and the kitchen by the side of it which catered for the patients of the order of healers and doctors, and he placed the tray of food out of the way where it could be acquired when Alexander felt like he wanted to eat something (though, judging by the current situation, that would probably be when Marik forced him to do so).

Alex drunk some of the water, glad that his dad had been thoughtful enough to get it for him, and knew that while Cai would be kept hydrated by some of the medical equipment his mouth would still be as dry as his older brother's had been before this. He couldn't deny that the drink felt good and slightly refreshing, but it was distracting him from caring for Caiellis and he couldn't stomach drinking too much when he knew his brother had been hurt as badly as he had been – let alone eating anything.

He was aware that if he wanted to keep healthy then he would have to keep at the large diet of protein that he had eaten over the last month or so where he had really starting bulking out more than just having lean muscle like he had in the past as well as exercise as much as he usually did even in days of peace, but he didn't care at the moment because there would be plenty of time for that once his little brother woke up from this coma that he was in and recovered fully. His entire reason for living lay on that operating bed, and if Caiellis didn't survive then he didn't know what he would do.

Didn't dad understand that food didn't matter when the seventeen year old knew for certain that if his Caiellis died, then he would die right alongside him? Even if he didn't die himself, his happiness would certainly do so, and Alex wasn't sure if he would ever be able to feel it again if Cai did give out and didn't survive this. Surely dad would know that he didn't care about eating when his brother was dying right in front of him and there was nothing at all that he could do to help him, to save him from this pain and the possibility of dying? Of course he does, Alex told himself, he is just trying to care for both of his sons instead of just one. But I wouldn't care if he paid no attention to me at all, because I don't need it.

And then there was the truth that Marik didn't have the brotherly bond with Caiellis that Alexander had in spite of being his father, that bond which had been forged thirteen years ago and strongly reinforced four years after that. He hadn't been the one who had carried his four year old brother with him out of Capitalia Lux with war all around them and their new carers trying to hold off as many enemies as they could, he hadn't been the one who had to comfort Cai after their mother died and had spent weeks trying to coax the four year old to eat and speak (as he had stayed silent for a few weeks after Emili's death and their evacuation, taking it even worse than Alexander had because of his age) and then soothing him as he cried his eyes out and sobbed himself raw for hours on end once Alex finally got him talking.

Even though Marik was the boy's dad, he didn't have the same connection with their youngest as Alexander did, especially not after nine years of not being able to see either of them as the brothers grew up alongside one another – but that was simply another reason why Caiellis had to survive, why he was going to survive, so that he could forge a bond with their dad that might someday be as strong as the brotherly link he had with Alex (though obviously it wasn't that strong as otherwise the boy wouldn't have ended his life like he had tried to).

"He's going to be alright, Alexander," Marik told the boy, resting a hand on his broad but still teenage shoulder and wishing that he could believe the words with more conviction. The boy simply stared back for a few seconds, his blue eyes blank apart from the concern in them, and then turned back to his younger brother. The king sighed as he settled down in the chair opposite his eldest son, aware that this was probably harder on Alexander than it was on him even though he had seen fully all that had happened to Caiellis and had known that it was all of his fault – not his eldest son's, not in the slightest was Alexander to blame and the forty year old wished that there was a way to communicate that with his first born son that would get him to listen and acknowledge him.

The eldest Lucerna reached out a (shaky despite his attempts to project an air of calm and strength to his older son because he was already in a bad state and didn't need to see his father weak as well) hand to his youngest son, before pulling it back and letting it drop at his side once again. As much as he wanted to, no needed to touch his youngest son and make it known that his father was there to protect him and show him the affection and attention he had always deserved, he couldn't bring himself to do it now that the sheer shock of having his smallest son reduced to this and hurt so much had dissolved somewhat, leaving him exhausted and sad instead of agitated and terrified – though the fear had not left him, merely bubbling beneath the cage that he had put on it until it rose up again.

He had done this to his youngest son. He had put him here, in this hospital bed with his family worrying over him as his condition deteriorated more and more. It did not matter at all that the horror of the last vampire had possessed him and taken over his body, forcing him to turn on his youngest son and hurt him in the way that he had. It were his hands that had punched and choked, his feet that had kicked, his mouth that had spat the words which had sent Caiellis over the edge and pushed him into a pit of despair that he was still drowning within now, his face that the thirteen year old had seen as he was beaten and strangled near to death before having to fight the most powerful demon he had ever seen.

He should have fought the horror better, been able to stop it from making him do this to his son, should have used the familial bond between him and his child before the war and his desire to create a new one once the conflict between the Kingdom of Light and the New Empire of Passion ceased to defeat the invader of his mind who made him do this to Caiellis. The angels knew that he had to have thought something was wrong when he kept having those sudden rises of anger and hatred towards his youngest son.

He should have asked Akroma about it at the very least, or spoken to Tybalt who had been his mentor in the past and the closest thing to a proper father he had ever had (which was ironic considering that was almost the same with Alexander and Caiellis – with the latter moreso than the former due to spending less time with Marik even before his mother's murder) and had often been able to quantify his emotions. He shouldn't have simply attributed it to Caiellis's defiance and his inability to curb it making him want to do violence to the boy – the king should have swallowed his pride and sought help with the emotions of rage that he had only ever felt towards enemies of the kingdom before instead of pushing it away because it was distracting him and simply ignoring it.

He should have insisted that he wasn't to be left alone with his youngest son under no circumstances, but instead he had assumed that because he was a parent and because he was a king he would be able to overcome the anger, the tendrils of the horror digging deeper into his psyche and exacerbating some emotions and thoughts whilst suppressing others. If he had done any of these things, the thirteen year old Lucerna prince wouldn't be here, fighting for his life against all odds.

A couple of hours passed with them in the exact same position, the doctors of the Ordo Medella coming and going with sympathetic smiles on their faces which, even with their professionalism and ability to mask emotions, couldn't hide the concern in their eyes for their young charge who was still unconscious. They adjusted dials and saw to wounds silently, making some conversation with Marik and trying to do the same with Alexander who stared at them blankly in a way that the king had only ever seen from his youngest son – but it wasn't because Alexander was ignoring them, he just couldn't hear what they were saying and his mind was too distraught to perceive it.

Occasionally though he did smile at the doctors when they spoke to him, especially when they reported one of the few things that was going right with Caiellis, such as his minor wounds healing well enough for now which meant that they didn't have the possibility of them being infected as well to contend with. More antibiotics and other medicines which had recently been invented in Lucael from Yentarian designs that were sent over (as the team of high ranking surgeon-generals, one for each city in the Kingdom of Light, had analysed and changed the medical procedures and substances to better suit their method of healing with magical and physical techniques) were given to the boy, though through it all he never regained anything resembling consciousness. Caiellis remained still like his whole body had been strapped down to the operating bed instead of just his arms.

It was slightly later than lunch time, though Marik wouldn't have realised it until he idly checked his chronometer after the last surgeon left them for a while after completing her duties. The king was stiff from sitting still and tired from his non stop vigil, not able to sleep like Alexander had unwillingly done in the night and content to watch over both of his sons. He was used to going without sleep – it was more common than not with his position as the supreme king of the entire nation. Marik had lost many nights planning, fighting against the enemies of the Kingdom of Light, pouring over the tactics and strategies of his opponents to see if he could predict where they could strike next and if he could see an overall link between the attacks.

He had lost nights by being simply unable to sleep even though there was nothing to do, unwilling to enter the only place in his mind where he couldn't push down the memories of Emili's death and preferring to stay awake and think about the time when he had been happiest, think about all of the good things that his wife had brought into the world and maybe even think of his sons in the civil war in the only time where it wouldn't distract him too much. He would wonder how they were doing, how well they were growing up, imagine what they looked like (because he had refused to even look at the mana camera photographs that had been taken when they were in specific cities the boys and their guardians (one of whom was a literal Guardian now) had visited recently because he knew that it would tear his heart apart again and make him unable to focus) and remember them in the past,

Sitting beside Caiellis's bed, however, was an entirely new level of tension. Because there was nothing he could do. There was absolutely nothing that he could do. What he wanted to stop from happening couldn't be defeated by force of arms and the power of light that flowed through him, what he was waiting for couldn't be seized by the force of a legion with a Lucerna king and a powerful First Sisterhood angel at its head – what he was waiting for was the only thing in his life that he needed right now, the only thing that he was clinging to any more – his baby boy's life. His sons were everything to him. He couldn't lose either of them.

Alexander's eyes were fixed upon his younger brother, not registering the fact that Marik was gazing at him for a moment, knowing that he hadn't yet touched the food he had brought over two hours ago and that it would be a chore to get him to. Alexander had slept on and off throughout the night, as much as the chair that he was sprawled in would permit and as long as his mind would leave him alone for, though each time he had woken up Marik had seen the panic in his son's eyes until he found Caiellis still in the bed in front of him and relaxed slightly.

It was evident to all that the seventeen year old was suffering from severe nightmares over what they had seen the day previous, which was to be understood completely as it hadn't yet been a full day since Caiellis had almost died and Alexander had been forced to breathe for his little brother, an extremely traumatic experience for Marik and he wasn't the one who was still a young teenager. Marik didn't even want to think about what he would see if he let sleep claim him for even a second, because it was bad enough that the images were already dancing behind his eyes and occasionally flashing in front of him.

The eldest of the king's sons had withdrawn, retreated not physically but emotionally. He had said little more than two words to anyone else but his younger brother since the day began, and Caiellis seemed to be the only one that he would consider talking to – which was ironic since his younger brother couldn't listen to him. Marik would be fine talking to him about what had happened against, but he didn't want to force himself into Alexander's personal space and knew that for now the best thing to do was to let the boy deal with it himself for now and provide support at every occasion.

The king sighed, feeling the weight of regret pressing down on him again. It wasn't easy to see his strong, courageous and independent eldest son reduced to this blank slate that was only filled with despair, unable to focus upon anything other than his younger brother, but then again it was even harder to see his gifted, thoughtful and kind youngest son laid out on the bed so lifelessly. Sometimes he couldn't help but remember simpler days, happier times, when the only danger had been the distant tension with Welkas which had reduced over the years of Caiellis's life, when Marik's existence had been Emili and their boys and everything had been so bright and brilliant and peaceful.

Letting his head drop, Marik pushed away the memories and smothered them under his desire to be a father for his sons here and now instead of being trapped within the past. Those days were gone. Taken away from him by his own ignorance, his inability to recognise treachery when it was right under his nose. His failure, his sentimentality and his insistence that his twin brother would never betray him had caused him to lose Emili – and now similar things could make him lose their baby boy if he didn't recover in time.

Lifting his head up once again, his eyes took in his youngest son again, how he was a product of both of his father and mother – he had Emili's eyes and hair, as well as her slender and small stature which was exacerbated by his age as a young teenager still going through puberty and maturing emotionally and physically, but he had his father's high cheekbones and more pronounced bones. The king could see a lot of the boy's grandparents in Caiellis as well, with how the boy's chin was more similar to Marik's own father than the thirteen year old's dad or late mother, and how his hair was slightly straighter than Emili's in a way that he had seen only once before – in a picture, the only surviving one as mana cameras had not been invented at the time, of his own mother who he had never met, Alexander and Caiellis's grandmother on their father's side.

He wondered, briefly, what his mother thought of her only grandchildren, and he knew that even though he had never met the woman himself and had no idea what she had been like she would have adored her young grandsons. Well, she would have adored her own sons as well but she had died before even being able to name them or hold them, so there was little point in thinking about that now, as there was nothing he could do about that.

There was not anything he could do for his youngest boy as well. He was as impotent and futile as he had been the night that Emili had been murdered by the shape shifting demon which had disguised itself as one of the Lucerna praetorians he should have never been satisfied in leaving with her and their beloved children. He was ineffectual and helpless and every other awful feeling he had gone years after the night of his wife's death hoping to feel again, emotions running through him which had risen up ever since he had been trapped inside of his Mind Realm by the horror which had caused this.

But he could help his eldest, and that was what he needed to do now. Alexander hadn't gone to the toilet since before the battle yesterday (assuming that he hadn't in the brief stint of having to leave the room because Marik had forced him to get his wounds healed) he needed his own injuries examining and most of all he needed to eat something now before he hurt himself further.

"Alexander. Are you going to touch that food?" he asked, a little too harshly in spite of the fact that he had attempted to infuse some joviality in his tone to break the silent ice he hadn't realised had frozen up between them. The boy didn't even look up from staring at his younger brother with the thirteen year old's left hand held in both of his larger ones, so Marik reached over and tapped him on the shoulder, gently enough not to startle him too much but with enough force to get his attention. Alexander blinked in surprise and glanced quickly up at his father, blinking again to clear his blurred vision and ignored his headache and cramping bones. Marik looked at him expectantly for a moment, so, coughing before he did so, he inquired, "Did you need anything, dad?"
Marik smiled at that, sitting back in his seat, as usual the facial expression not reaching his anguished eyes no matter what he did to try and make it do so, and replied, "No, I didn't need anything. I just thought that you should try and eat something, considering you haven't eaten anything since the you ate breakfast yesterday morning. I want you to keep up your strength so that you do not hurt yourself as well."

"Oh," was Alexander's soft response, almost too quiet to be heard over the constant beeping of the machines that Marik had almost tuned out – almost, not quite, because while he could stand them now without them annoying him he was attuned to them enough so that he would be able to pick up the slightest change in the noises that signified his youngest son was still fighting for his life. He turned back to his younger brother, before Marik spoke to him again, "Alexander, you need to eat something. I don't want to have to make you, but trust me when I say that I will force feed you if that is the only way of getting you to do so."
Alexander was strong, physically and emotionally, one of the strongest people that Marik had ever seen despite him only being seventeen years old, but this was breaking him. The only person that he was willing to talk to was his younger brother, and he did so at the same time as ignoring everyone else and making it seem like he had no idea if they were there or not. The boy's desperate blue eyes met his again, and Marik couldn't stop himself from flinching slightly from sympathy and empathy as he stared into them once again. They were still so scared, reflecting Marik's own fear, and Alexander mumbled something like, "I don't want to..."
"It wasn't a suggestion," Marik replied curtly, using authority because he knew that that was the only way he could get his eldest son to listen in the state that he was in right now. It had always worked on Alexander, even when he had been a little boy liable to occasionally playing up or having a few tantrums when he didn't get what he wanted which were quickly curbed. He had never had to use authority on Caiellis before the civil war because his quiet youngest son had been the definition of a model child, with the fact that Alexander had stopped behaving as petty as he had before as he now had a baby brother to take attention off of him and be a role model for meaning that Caiellis had learnt that he shouldn't approach problems in that way, that he should follow what his parents and big brother did.

When he had used authority on his second son, the first time speaking to him after the civil when he had been angry and disappointed and irritated that he had to deal with the apparent failure of his child, when they had argued because of Alexander's injuries and all of the subsequent times after that, it had never seemed to work. At the time Marik had thought that was a product of him never having to impress his role as the father and the highest order in their relationship before and so Caiellis reacted badly to it because he was not one of the authority figures in his youngest son's life, and while he still stood by that somewhat now it was a very real possibility that being authoritarian with his second son was simply not the way that one should deal with him when he was being disobedient.

Caiellis had always reacted well to the few times that Marik had shown him love and affection before this, so maybe instead of assuming that the methods that worked on Alexander would work exactly the same with his younger brother who Marik was very inept at reprimanding in the proper manner for the boy he should have hearkened to this and used that in his disciplinary methods.

If he had paid more attention to that, if he had tried to do something different with Caiellis instead of just raising his voice at him and trying to punish him when things got out of hand, then his son might have been awake and well with them right now instead of unconscious and getting slowly worse. If Caiellis ever did act up again, Marik knew that he would try something different, approach the problem in a different way instead of blindly attacking it and making the whole situation worse like he had done over the past few days.

The king pushed himself out of the cycle of thoughts his mind had become stuck in. Alexander was still sat across from him, on the other side of Caiellis's bed, and and had made no moves to go and get himself some nourishment. He hated to resort to this, but the forty year old was under no illusions that telling the seventeen year old about what his brother would want for him was the only way he was going to get Alexander to consume something, appealing to the sense that he was no use to his younger sibling it he didn't eat anything, and said, "Alexander, you aren't going to be able to stay with Caiellis if you don't eat anything. You will be too weak. I know that you don't want to eat because your little brother can't at the moment, but trust me when I say that such a line of thinking isn't helping anyone – least of all yourself. You are going to be sick yourself if you don't eat anything and regenerate your own strength. Don't make me have to force you to leave your brother because you aren't eating anything, son."

That got the teenager moving. Marik watched as his eldest boy let go of his youngest son's hand, slumping his shoulders even more and walking over to where the tray of food was, picking up one of the smallest plates and returning to his seat. Alexander, contrary to what Marik had anticipated, hadn't even mustered up the energy to glare at his dad, though he still made begrudgingly eating the food look like it was one of the hardest things he had ever done in the world. So this was where Caiellis got some of his petulance from – although at this point Marik would give anything to see that again, to see his youngest son's defiant green eyes and to hear his young and soft voice raised in anger against his father.

Anything effortlessly beat the silence that was suffusing the littlest Lucerna now, the only sound he was making his breathing that had to be aided by the oxygen mask around the lower parts of his face.

Given the ultimatum of eat or leave, Alexander had no choice in the matter. He ungraciously grabbed the sandwich that was in one hand with both and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, gaining the energy to glare at his dad for a second who had stood up with the words and loomed over both of his sons, meeting Alex's gaze with the stony and resolute appearance of his own and glad that he had finally managed to make his eldest son eat something. The seventeen year old had developed quite an unhealthy and pale pallor over the last day, and Marik didn't want to have to deal with the stress of two sons being sick and hurt – especially not with Caiellis in as bad of a state as he was and Alexander set to get worse if he didn't take care of himself as well as he was taking care of his younger brother.

However, he wished that his eldest son had shown more open defiance instead of flatly refusing at first and then acquiescing quietly – he would have preferred it if the boy had glared at him with more force behind it, or perhaps deliberately eaten with his mouth open like he had when Marik had made him eat something back when Aksua had injured him (though Alexander had half wanted to consume something as well because he wanted to recover as fast as possible). Marik could well empathise with not caring about oneself when confronted with the harsh truth of what had happened to the youngest member of their family – because he was a prime example of such a thing himself – but logically it was not aiding any of them to do that and they wouldn't be able to help Caiellis once he did waqke up if they weren't eating anything.

Alexander forced the food down, suppressing the urge to throw up because he knew that his father was right and that he did need to eat if he was going to be of any use to his younger brother. He was well away that their dad was appealing to his need to aid his smaller and now heavily wounded sibling, and supposed that stopping eating could come after it if Caiellis didn't make it through this part of his life which would definitely be the hardest and the most painful. He ate as much as he could possibly force himself to before turning once more to his younger brother, entwining his fingers with the slender and bony digits of the smaller male once again and blocking out the thoughts of anything else – not that he was able to think of them in the first place, not when every single time he looked away from Cai or closed his eyes even for a brief second he could see the boy in their father's arms again as he closed in on them, or coughing up blood and clawing at the oxygen mask on his face.

A few more hours passed with little to nothing happening, Caiellis's condition not improving at all but luckily not getting much worse. The doctors came and went at regular intervals, and each time Alexander tried to ignore quiet and almost subliminal warnings that even if his younger brother did wake up he might not ever be the same because of the amount of damage he had sustained and the amount of time he had spent without oxygen before Orzhova somehow managed to revive him.

He didn't like how the surgeons tried not to talk about Caiellis as loudly when he was there and awake; he didn't like how they tried to be gentle with him about his younger brother's condition because he wasn't the one that was hurt and he wished that none of their attention would go towards worrying for him because he didn't need that – Cai did. Alex wasn't a child, and he certainly wasn't stupid – and did they think that he would be affected even worse if they actually told him the risk of brain damage and the ever increasing possibility that Caiellis wasn't going to wake up from all of this?

He couldn't possibly get any worse than he could now until something worse happened to his baby brother, and had been driven into almost muted silence by the fact that he just didn't want to talk to anyone but the younger boy. The seventeen year old barely heard his dad leaving, assuming that the man had to go and see to his kingly duties despite the fact that he knew the distraught father who was trying to do everything he could do for his sons would not want to in the slightest. He moved round to the side of his smaller sibling once again, disregarding the aches and pains of his wounded body which hadn't fully recovered from what Aksua had done to him before he had been thrust into another conflict and nearly been killed by the Master of Violence this time.

Alex brushed tears from his eyes as he thought of that, clasping his brother's hand in his and silently willing for Caiellis to squeeze it back, to wriggle his fingers, to pull away, anything, anything other than this sad stillness as his brother lay in the hospital bed for what could have been years, though Alexander knew that it had only been a single day fraught with anguish since they had brought him here from the City of Pleasure yesterday evening. He had failed his brother so much. He should have been able to defeat Arendus Draal before Caiellis killed the Archdemon and commit suicide after he woke up from that – hell, he should have been with the younger boy all the way through that undoubtedly awful fight against the Lord of Riots who had dealt the vast majority of these wounds to him.

Dad kept telling him not to blame himself, that it wasn't his fault for what happened to Cai and that it was their father's instead, but Alexander found it incredibly hard not to knowing what he did – knowing that he could have stopped this, if he had paid more heed to the warning signs of his father being physically violent towards one of his children, something that he had never done before, and if he had listened more to the youngest Lucerna's concerns about the Tempest of Craving and helped him research it they might have both saved many lives because they would be able to find out what it would do (or had done now that it was gone) and he would have been able to have his brother trust him enough not to leave him and go and kill Tradax alone like he had.

It was evening now, according to what he had heard from his father when he had told him that he had to leave, though he hadn't paid much attention to the man.

He knew that it was rude not to, and that he should have at least acknowledged his dad with more than a despondent nod of his head, but he wasn't physically able to keep his focus away from his younger brother for more than a second. He had done so once or twice before after the civil war, and look where that had got them – the first time around Caiellis had been cutting himself because of the weight of the pressure upon him, and the second time Alexander had let his attention be on something other than his baby brother the boy had used his magic to leave the relative safety of his family and taken it upon himself to end the main threat.

He forced a grin out as he gazed down at his younger brother, remembering all the times that he had teased Caiellis for accidentally staring at him as the youngest Lucerna drifted off into thought and let his gaze rest on his older brother and wondering what Cai would think now that the situation was reversed. Most probably his little brother would think that he was creep for watching him as he slept, but then again Alex thought that he was excused in this circumstance for that.

The only person that Alexander wasn't bleak and withdrawn with now was his younger brother, because even though when he talked to other people the few times that he could manage it his voice might make it seem like he had given up hope he hadn't at all. It was ironic, in a way, that he railed against the doctors softening their words and always making their prognoses more cautionary and gentle instead of as downright grim as they actually were, but he subjected his sleeping younger brother to the same thing, constantly reassuring him that he was going to be alright and that he was going to recover from this. But then that was the way of big brothers, who would take the pain and the worry off of their younger sibling's shoulders – or at least that was how Alexander saw it, and that was how he was going to continue doing it even when Caiellis became an adult because he would always be the seventeen year old's baby brother and nothing would change that.

He showed his hope only to his younger brother, because he was the only one who needed it at the current moment, and Alexander refused to give up on Caiellis just like everyone else, but not because he was a Lucerna. He plastered a smile onto his face even though all he felt like doing was crying his eyes out, but tears wouldn't help his younger brother and he didn't deserve to cry at the current moment, not with Caiellis in the state that he was now. Because, even if the youngest Lucerna was still locked in deep unconsciousness, even if he was too far into this slumber that he was trapped within and hopefully fighting to get out of, he still needed to hear the hope from his older brother.

Alexander was convinced that it would help Cai, and nothing was going to dissuade him from that. He couldn't not speak to his younger brother like everyone else did just because he was in a coma, and if he let the true direness of the situation slip into his voice when talking to the thirteen year old his brother might become even worse. Caiellis needed to know that he was wanted, that he was wanted so much, that they all wanted him to come back into the world of the awake with them and that none of them had given up on him. So he would keep talking to his younger brother because it kept him believing that everything would be alright as well, that they would all survive through this, as if he stayed silent he might give into the hopelessness that was threatening to drown him and was eating away at his insides every second that Cai didn't wake up.

"Come on, Cai, please. Give me a sign here. Just give me a sign. Squeeze my hand, open your eyes, punch me in the face … just give me a sign," Alexander pleaded for a moment, though there was no change which a part of him expected – though the other part had violently disabused himself of the notion that he was wasting his time doing this for his younger brother. He brushed his hand over Caiellis's forehead again, trying to ignore the breaking of his heart at the sight of the creases of agony on his younger brother's face despite the fact that he was in the clutches of sleep. He was still hoping that his voice could coax his baby brother into waking up, even though deep down he knew that him awakening prematurely from this rejuvenating (not that he seemed to be doing that at all) coma could be even worse than him sleeping on.

That or bore Caiellis to the point where he had no choice but to awaken and tell his big brother to shut up. If only he would do that ...

Nothing was working and Alexander found himself fighting back tears for the umpteenth time in the past two days (including this one), fighting against the devastation that was threatening to tear him apart from the inside and plunge him into a pit of unrelenting sadness. He fought against the temptation to just let the despair take him, because he had to be strong for his younger brother even if the boy wasn't awake to see it. He wiped his eyes, the eyelashes glistening with wet tears which had almost started streaming down his cheeks, and refused to cry in front of his younger brother – who couldn't know how hopeless the situation same, who had to keep fighting against it with all of his might and claw his way back into the world of the living.

Logically he knew that his brother wouldn't be able to hear him, but he didn't care about that – Caiellis was the logical one, not him, and he acted on instinct and what he thought was right. Of course his younger brother did that as well, but the smaller Lucerna was liable to plan everything out before he enacted it – which was perfectly fine with the seventeen year old because it meant that Cai got into less danger when they were fighting, even if it seemed that normally his baby brother was a beacon for trouble despite doing nothing to attract it and could find peril in an empty room (because of the abyss and the warping influence of Sancturia darkness, so there was a legitimate explanation for that).

"Caiellis..." it came out choked, half strangled between clenched teeth, and he was glad for a moment that his sibling wasn't awake to see Alexander in this much emotional pain – though Cai had to have known how distraught it would make his older brother when he chose to take his own life, hadn't he? Hadn't he? Or perhaps there was something else, perhaps the demon had shown him something in its final moments, perhaps dad hadn't just turned on Cai physically when the horror had possessed him and said other things – but it was clear that if Marik did know then he wasn't going to tell his eldest son, and Alex wouldn't find out until his brother woke up and if the kid chose to tell him.

The boy looked like he was in so much pain but at the same time so distant, like the pain of his broken and fragile body was the only thing that he could feel from the real world, trapped as he was in his apparently restorative slumber, although with the way that the doctors of the medical order glanced at him it had obviously got far worse than that now. Alexander wished that

The Ordo Medella operatives believed that Caiellis was going to die. Even though they didn't say it, not with Alexander around and probably not with Marik either when they occasionally talked outside of the room with the king, the seventeen year old could see it in the gravity of their expressions that they couldn't hide from him, and that way that their mouths sometimes tightened when speaking about their young patient. They wouldn't say it to anyone, and they most likely wouldn't even admit it to themselves apart from in the deepest recesses of their minds that no one else could see, because confessing that they thought that their Lucerna patient would die was tantamount to heresy, but even though they were still trying their hardest Alexander could see that things were very bad for his younger brother.

And there was nothing he could do about that – there was nothing that he could fight it with. He had always had ways to make things better for his little brother. He'd looked after Caiellis, protected him from the darkness of their world and those who bayed for the blood of a Lucerna prince. He had hacked at and attacked and burned whatever was threatening him, even using his bare fists unaugmented by magic when there was nothing else that he could do to keep the youngest Lucerna safe. He was the shield that kept Cai protected. Alex knew what was out there, threatening the Kingdom of Light and those who would one day rule it and lead its armies against the denizens of the forsaken nether realm that shrouded Lucael in almost eternal blackness, but there had always been an unconscious and unshakable determination that as long as Alexander was there, nothing would get to Caiellis.

He reached out and gently ruffled his little brother's vaguely curly and wavy brown hair, glad that it was no longer covered in blood like it had been earlier and was back to its normal colour and consistency – for nothing other than the fact that it made the younger boy look better, look like he hadn't been dragged through an awful battle the day before and look like he had been smashed against the ground hundreds of times as he was assaulted by flaming blades and chains of shadow.

The boy remembered a time long ago, a time which he only had fractured memories of, when his younger brother had almost been in just as fragile a position. That time had been thirteen years ago, the time he had first laid eyes upon his little brother and the connection between them had first started to develop, although it was only truly affirmed and started to bloom once the four year old Alexander had been allowed to hold his baby brother for the first time.

Even at the age of just four years old, when presented with the sight of the tiny baby in what had appeared to him as a glass cage he had developed the desire to want to help that little infant who he had been told by his mummy and daddy was his new brother, but he hadn't known how and he had been content knowing that his parents would take care of him.

He had trusted that the elders of his family would be able to make Caiellis healthy so that he could come out of the incubator and be with his new family, and despite the fact that Alexander could barely remember it himself because he was so young (which was why he was concerned over the fact that Caiellis still had the events of the beginning of the civil war (although at least his little brother had been knocked unconscious before seeing their mother die and having their father obliterate the demons which had killed her) seared into his memory, though they were obviously much more traumatic events than the ones of having a new family member) he could recall asking his parents what had been wrong with Cai.

He could vaguely bring up flashes of images, of Orzhova appearing to Caiellis a few hours after he had been born and the general uproar over the Angel of the Black Sun choosing a new Summoner in the Kingdom of Light, and had the knowledge that the little him had put himself in front of the even littler Cai to protect him from danger despite knowing him for only a day. Alexander was aware that his memories were fragmented and distorted by the passage of time and the fact that he had always been four, but for as long as he could remember he had always burned with the desire to protect his little brother after seeing him for the first time and knowing instinctively that he needed it.

However, back then he had always had his mum and dad who wanted to guard their youngest as well, he had always had their reassurances that Caiellis would be just fine and that he would be able to leave the neonatal support incubator and live normally, so as he had been a young toddler himself he had been able to believe them with all of his heart and be safe in the knowledge that his baby brother would be ok because they said that he would and they had never been wrong about anything before in his mind.

Now he only had his father's assurances that Caiellis would pull through this and return to the world of the living almost the same as before he had left it – that the only difference would be that he would have happiness where sadness once persisted – and that simply wasn't enough to make Alexander believe with as much conviction as he had thirteen years ago. Of course he was still possessed of the mindset that his sibling would be restored to optimum condition once again as that was the only way that he could think without surrendering to the chains of despair threatening to drag him down at any moment into the pit of endless sorrow inside, but he couldn't prevent the sinking feeling from forming inside of him and ripping a hole in his heart that widened every single second Caiellis did not wake up.

I don't know if I can stop this, Caiellis. I don't know if I can help you.

Alexander felt like a failure of a brother, a coward, for even having the thoughts in his mind, but he made sure this time that he did not voice them like he had done with some of the mental words which had drifted around inside of his head this past day. Caiellis didn't need to hear his doubts. All Caiellis needed to hear was that everything was going to be alright, that the whole world was waking for him to wake up, that his family was sorry for failing him and that they would make it up to him in any and every way that they could. If the younger boy heard his big brother's sadness, his fear … then he might lose hope himself – if he still had any wherever Caiellis's consciousness was.

"Where are you, little dude? What are you dreaming about?" Alexander wondered aloud, simply speaking to his younger brother making him feel like he was more connected with the smaller Lucerna instead of being as impossibly distant as he was even if Caiellis couldn't hear him. He could feel one of the pitying glances of an Ordo Medella operative on him and his younger brother when the person thought that the middle Lucerna wouldn't notice something that the doctor would never dare to do if the situation had been any less desperate, but Alexander paid no heed to it as he gently stroked his little brother's hair, avoiding the spots where he knew bumps and bruises were located as he didn't want to cause his sibling any more pain. He didn't like it, but he wasn't about to turn around and tell them to take their pity elsewhere.

He pondered what Caiellis was thinking about, locked deep within his mind, whether or not he was fighting to get to the surface of the waves that pulled him under the lullaby sea of slumber, or if he had already given up on them and just wanted it all to end. Before he could stop himself, he tried to imagine what it must have been like for his little brother, all alone with the Archdemon's corpse of glass shattered all around him, his father unconscious after he had tried to attack his youngest son, what had driven him to draw the knife across his throat, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on regaining the normal rhythm of his breathing before the threw up the small sandwich that he had been forced to eat earlier.

His little brother might have given up already. Or he might have a choice between fighting to get back to life or surrendering to the coldness slowly claiming him. Everything about his expression screamed of pain, of sadness, of submitting to the despair and letting it take him once again – of letting his suicide which had almost succeeded run its course.

"Don't you dare!" Alexander hissed, suddenly, holding his brother's hand in his, though if any of the surgeons heard they chose not to intervene, "Just don't you fucking dare leave me, Caiellis, or I'll come after you." A small sob escaped before he could stop it. "I'll h-hunt y-you down a-and … k-kick y-your ghostly ass..."

He had known that they would have to go at some point. That was the way of the world, the way of this transient coil of human mortality, and they had danced with too much danger to be naïve about that. But Alexander had always thought that it would be when they were older, when they had lived out their lives as either the new king of Lucael or one of its leading generals (or scientists in Cai's case) and had their own families and children and were old men. And he had always known that he would be the one to go first – because he was the oldest, because he would risk his life to ensure that his younger brother lived on in a heartbeat and because he wanted Caiellis to live longer than he did.

He had known because he couldn't live without Caiellis, because his little brother was so infinitely precious to him that he wouldn't be able to comprehend life without him – as Cai was one of the things that he had to protect, the thing that was his greatest responsibility, his innocent and intelligent baby brother who would help change the world with his gentle kindness and scintillating intellect and usher in a new age of peace. Caiellis was almost everything to him, and Alexander had grown up knowing that he wanted to keep the younger boy safe above all else. They had endured too much to not have the lives that they deserved, for Caiellis not to live a long and happy existence with his big brother watching over him.

But now all he could do was hold onto his younger brother with a desperate grip and feel him slowly slipping away from the world. His fingers moved idly, palm gently stroking his little brother's arm with a kindness and tenderness of touch that was only reserved for dire situations when the smaller Lucerna was in pain – but none had ever been as dire as this. Usually Alexander was slightly rough with his younger sibling, because they were brothers and he enjoyed teasing little Cai, he always had done for as long as he could remember, and before the escalation of danger that had been the past two weeks the seventeen year old had kept himself to his own personal space and only touched his brother to jostle him or to sling a casual arm over his bony and thin shoulders, but he had always possessed a soft spot for his younger brother and it was hardly a rarity for Caiellis to snuggle up with him in a comforting (if slightly uncomfortable for the younger boy because of the strength that Alex sometimes put into it) hug over the years when the younger boy was in pain or scared (or more rarely Alexander was help and his sibling sensed his need for comfort that the older prince would never admit to because of his selfless pride).

"I don't know what to do, Caiellis..." Alex whispered, too quiet and hushed for his younger brother for the boy to be able to hear him even if he had been awake, and he felt like even saying the words he was abandoning his younger brother. He wasn't, and never would, even when all hope seemed lost and when Cai was so far away from them despite being within touching distance, but he truly felt that he could do nothing more for his younger brother and it was hurting him.

Caiellis had always (well, almost always) come to him with his worries, with his pain, with his fear and if he was hurt or in need of help from his closest friend, and Alexander had always helped the younger boy to the best of his ability, but right now he could only sit by his bedside as the minutes ticked down and the younger boy didn't improve in any manner.

He turned away from the sight of Cai for a moment, staring blankly at the unemblazoned wall across from him, the white section one of the few free to be looked at from his limited vantage point as the rest were obscured by the many contraptions surrounding the youngest Lucerna. It shimmered, blurred with tears that Alex made no effort to wipe away.

The room was quiet when the king walked in, having disappeared when he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold off sending messengers to his army in Welkas any longer and ending up wandering the mostly empty corridors of the Ordo Medella hospital, wanting to release his rage at his sheer impotence and the reality at what he had done to his youngest son on something and knowing that he had to calm down before he re-entered the room that held his youngest son – as his anger would help nobody.

He had expected to hear Alexander talking, hear the deep (yet still young) but soft and quiet tones of his eldest son as he rambled to his sleeping younger brother. Marik had heard some interesting stories over the past few hours, as the darkness of day stretched into the blackness of night once more and there was still no change in Caiellis's condition that was noticeable apart from the fact that he was steadily getting weaker. He might even have been amused at the vast range of random topics that his first born son had managed to discuss, had it not been for his horrible awareness of how one sided those conversations were.

As had become his habit, he instantly glanced at the many monitors connected by recently innovated machinery to his youngest son, watching the meandering patterns of the screens powered by mana and disliking how erratic and weak the vast majority of those were. However, even infinitesimal movements on the devices were preferable to stillness, and it showed that Caiellis was still alive, still fighting, even if his defiance against death had been weakened over the course of him being here.

Emili had commented once, after the birth of her first son when she had managed to get over her sheer happiness and elation at having given life to a child, her own child, and brought a baby boy into the world for her and her husband to care for and be able to speak, that her partner was voraciously vigilant within hospitals. Marik barely ever left the room, watched every single monitor at once, noticed every single blip or squiggle that seemed even vaguely abnormal, comforting every slight moan or wince of pain that he saw from the person who was being operated upon. And right now what he saw did not paint a very positive picture, not in the slightest, but he was not going to give up on his youngest son.

He could no more do that then stop himself from breathing.

His gaze shifted, and instead of instantly returning to his seat and watching over attentively watching over Caiellis he stood still for a moment, taking in the state of his eldest son. Alexander's hand was curled firmly around that of his younger brother's, his eyes shut, though he was not asleep because Marik knew that until the seventeen year old could not fight his exhaustion any longer he would refuse to fall into his own unconsciousness once again, his own health and need for rest be damned in the face of his younger brother's wounding.

Alexander's eyes were shut, he breathed heavily, and he didn't stir as his father came round to the other side of the bed that held the youngest member of their family, but the temporary respite from sight did not smooth the lines of fear from the seventeen year old's young face that for once looked its age without old eyes that had seen too much and were full of too much worry open and staring despondently into the world.

And it did not hide the tracks of tears that had spilled down the boy's cheeks. It couldn't hide the wetly clumped eyelashes that drove another stake of emotional agony through the eldest Lucerna. He had only ever seen Alexander cry after the civil war (having seen him cry many times when he was growing up from the years of his birth to the night that his mother died) when he had been extremely close to dying and had only just been saved from the claws and vampiric predations of Aksua but not her malicious curses that were wreaking havoc and torment upon his young body, and when the middle Lucerna had joined his father in howling over Caiellis and ripped the smaller boy out of Marik's arms, sobbing over his brother with grief worse than Marik had ever witnessed before.

Caiellis cried. Caiellis had shed tears when he was upset, when his fights with his father had been particularly intense. The youngest Lucerna was hardly a spoilt brat, nor an immature infant that shed tears at everything going wrong, but Marik had seen enough of his youngest son in immense emotional pain to last him a lifetime of pain through what the horror had shown him from Caiellis cutting himself before the war with the New Empire of Passion due to what his father had said to him about the fact that he had not yet unlocked his Summoning nor passed her trial, and he had seen the young thirteen year old sobbing far too many times for his liking – and he didn't blame the littlest Lucerna for the circumstance at all, because he fought against the tears with all of his might. But Caiellis still cried, still let tears spill down his face in transparent streams of misery when he was in enough stress and sorrow.

Alexander didn't. From what the eldest Lucerna had seen of his older son so far after the ending of the war with his identical twin brother, Alexander simply became stony faced when in pain or severe moroseness unless he wasn't able to control it, pushing the emotions down in a similar way to his dad so that others would not notice them. He usually kept tabs upon his anguish unless it was too much for him to handle, if the emotions came in a surge greater than he could repress or even want to – such as when he had found Caiellis in the dead state that he had been in, smothering them so that he could better help other people in the selfless manner that he did.

Alexander's tears told the king of Lucael that his son was losing hope, even if he would never confess that out loud and would refuse to even believe it himself. And it was hard to see that, because even though the seventeen year old still believed that there was a chance that his younger brother – and the family that the boy was holding together just like Alexander was – would make it through this trial, the fact that the blonde was beginning to lose faith that Caiellis would survive was a true attestation to how bad things had become.

Marik didn't have much experience at all with children other than his own – and barely had any knowledge of them in the grand scheme of things due to his failure at being a father – but he knew that the bond his sons shared was special and that they were unusually close for brothers. They had their arguments, of course, even if Marik had not seen any of them recently and had only heard of some of the worse ones from stories that an amused Tybalt or Tristram had recounted, but either one would take a blow for the other without a moment of hesitation or indecision.

They felt one another's pain, even more than what they had been like before the civil war when even then Alexander had seemed attuned to his younger brother's needs and little Caiellis had comforted his big brother as best he could when the older child fell over and skinned his knees, and whenever one of them was hurt the other would take it out upon themselves and it would cause them nearly more pain than if they themselves had been the ones injured – and Alexander was dying right alongside his brother, even if it was only his happiness and his heart that was breaking instead of his body.

Their bond was so strong, but it also meant that when anything that had the strength to potentially tear it apart through death and loss arose it could potentially end both of them. Alexander was suffering almost as much as his younger brother was, the same as his father was although Marik could hide it better because he had to be strong for both of his sons and he was an adult so could better control his emotions of anguish and grief, and seeing Caiellis like this was tearing them both apart from the inside.

But the seventeen year old needed a break from this. He needed to get out of the room, even if he would protest against it with all of his might, even if he did not want to leave his younger brother's side and even if it would only be for a few minutes. Alexander wouldn't get any better or be able to help his brother or himself at all stuck here, and the boy was slowly breaking by being next to only misery and the potential to lose the person that he was the closest to, his little brother that Marik knew the boy would still be hating himself for not protecting even though it was indubitably Marik's fault for what had occurred and the blame rested solely on him.

"Alexander," the king called out, rising to his feet again as he moved over to the side of his eldest son and gently shook his shoulder, not liking how pale the seventeen year old was even though his pallor was nowhere near as ashen as his younger brother's – which was as white as a spirit.

Marik hadn't thought that his youngest son could get any more pale, as the boy had never seen the sun of Lucael and spent barely any time in the glow of the mundane celestial body that shone in other regions of the world not shrouded by darkness, and the youngest Lucerna had a naturally pale complexion which always exacerbated the dark shadows underneath his eyes and the birthmark of the Black Sun on his right cheek, but the thirteen year old was even more pallid than usually (though some of the greyness had faded) where numerous bruises weren't blackening his innocent and young features or where his face wasn't covered by bandages or other medical gauze healing the scratches and cuts he had suffered.

The boy opened his eyes, blue orbs misted by tears at his father's concerned enunciation of his first name, blearily blinking back the liquid stinging his eyes and blinding his vision and realising that he had drifted off into a kind of slumbering state without actually being asleep. Marik tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but the way his lips curled made the expression look more like a grimace which encapsulated his worry and distress than anything else.

"You need to go out of this room for a bit. You need to get some fresh air, go to the toilet, have a drink and exercise your legs," the father of two told him, endeavouring to feel like he wasn't being cruel by pulling Alexander away from his younger brother when these might be Caiellis's last moments in the world (ok, do not think like that any longer. Your son doesn't deserve for you to give up on him, no matter how dire the situation, and I refuse to let you even consider that Caiellis might die here), when it might be the last time that he would see his baby brother alive and breathing.

He squeezed the boy's shoulder gently, and the teenager stared blankly up at him for a moment before tenderly releasing Caiellis's hand and placing it back down on the bed (though because of the restraints which had dug into the younger boy's too thin wrists yesterday as he tried to escape from the oxygen mask allowing him to take in air (as he was too weak and wounded to breathe without the vital assistance of the mask) the hand hadn't been far away from the boy it belonged to), turning back towards his younger brother and staring at him for a moment.

Marik expected his eldest son to mutter words of a goodbye, but whatever speech that Alexander had gone through must have been internally, and instead the middle Lucerna brushed Caiellis's hair back with a gentleness that reminded the king of his own late wife before slowly turning away from the youngest Lucerna and standing up, shrugging off his father's hand as he did so.

"Alexander. We are going to get through this. Caiellis is going to get through this," the man tried, though he felt as if his words were having no affect on the adolescent stood in front of him who was almost as far away as his younger brother was despite the actuality of their physical distances. His words lacked conviction apart from a steely hint to them that was accompanied by a tinge of desperation which he couldn't quite clear from his deep tones, and he patted his eldest son on the shoulder as the boy began to walk away from him without words.

The fact that Alexander hadn't even resisted his command to go out of the room and escape from the atmosphere of melancholy grief pressing down on all of them was extremely worrying and disturbing to the king, as Marik had anticipated the seventeen year old fighting tooth and claw against his suggestions and vehemently denying that he needed to leave his younger brother, if only for a short moment, like he had done only a few hours earlier and the day before.

It showed that the boy could barely focus on anything, that he felt just as impotent and useless as Marik did himself, that he believed that him being by Caiellis's side and trying to help him through this tribulation was accomplishing nothing. Alexander had zoned in on his younger brother completely to the point where he barely heard other people, but even then he couldn't muster up the defiance to disobey his father's orders to go get fresh air and have a brief respite from the sombre and claustrophobic mood of the solemn hospital operation room.

Marik watched his eldest son go with a heavy gaze, the boy slouched as he stumbled forwards, probably aching because of the fact that he hadn't moved from his seat since the day before but unwilling to stretch because he couldn't process it. He would have liked to go with his eldest son, to accompany Alexander on this short journey out of the room to ensure that the seventeen year old who was in an incredibly fragile emotional state of mind would be alright and remain safe enough, but he couldn't leave his youngest son with none of his family members by his side and right now Caiellis was the main concern – as neither of his sons would recover if the younger one of the two did not, and Alexander would recover alongside his younger brother as his wounds were mostly emotional ones and could only be healed by the one of them who was the closest to death and in the most precarious position.

He inclined his head back to his youngest son, sitting in the seat opposite the one that had recently been vacated by Alexander because he didn't want Caiellis to somehow think that he was attempting to replace the boy's big brother in any way as that was something that he would never be able to do. He felt like crying, but pushed that sudden urge away as that would do nothing for anyone and it was his job as a father to remain strong for his sons, to be the bulwark against sadness and evil to the best of his ability even if he had failed so horribly at that in every single manner.

He wondered what Caiellis was thinking, if it was anything, and hated the fact that his son had been the recipient of so much pain and sadness that was still contorting his youthful features even through the oxygen mask and the coma induced unconsciousness. He reached out a hand, then pulled it back, remembering what he had done to his youngest son and not wanting the boy to feel even worse if he could even sense the touch, and tried to ignore the mounting feeling of despair swirling around within him and gorging itself upon his anguish and sense of failure.

It was the first time in quite a while that he was alone in the room (apart from the ever present surgeons and other operatives of the Ordo Medella that he mostly paid little attention to, his attention fixed upon his sons, though he did semi regularly thank them for their work and always listened attentively whenever they had more news) with his youngest son, and it was the first time that he had been able to sit by him without Alexander there as well as the former occasion had been when the surgeons were still desperately operating on Caiellis to get him to the relatively stable but constantly degrading condition that he was presently within.

The silence was only punctuated by the noises of the machines attached to the boy, and Marik internally wondered how he was ever supposed to make it up to his youngest son – the fact that it was a horror who had possessed the king and forced him into the heinous actions his body had undertaken would hopefully smooth his youngest's state of mind enough so that he would allow his dad to talk to him and attempt to communicate how loved he was, but the forty year old still had no idea as to what to say to Caiellis that would make reparations for all that he had done to the thirteen year old, under the horror's malevolent domination or not.

"Caiellis is on a crossroads," a voice broke into Marik's reverie at staring intently at his youngest son and pondering what words could be said and what actions could be undertook that would make the youngest Lucerna understand the extent at which he was loved. Startled, Marik spun around, registering immediately that the voice did not belong to one of the surgeons that he had become used to hearing over the past hours which had blended into one long toil for his youngest son's life. His hand instantly went to the hilt of the large relic broadsword in its ornate scabbard attached to the belt at his waist, as although he had taken off his armour and undertaken a quick shower to cleanse his body of the blood of his youngest son that had made him feel sick he had kept the sword with him, not feeling truly safe unless there was a weapon that he was able to quickly access nearby so that he could protect himself and much more importantly his sons.

The wounds on his waist which hadn't fully healed yet (although they were close to by now as sense his mana was at full capacity his body naturally rejuvenated even without the care of the doctors and the mere fact that he was within the Ordo Medella hospital meant that the aura of healing magic that pervaded the building and saturated the air contained in it helped to repair injuries) protested at the sudden movement as the king swivelled round, preparing to stand up as his gaze landed on a slender figure stood at the foot of Caiellis's bed.

She was a girl, a young teenager, taller than Caiellis was but still quite small in comparison to other Lucaelians, and her age seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen. The person was facing towards the youngest Lucerna who was still asleep on the operating bed, and her dazzling silver hair reflected the light of the oppressively bright overhead lights which were necessary for the surgeons to operate upon their patients, as well as the multitude of glowing golden luminescence that was around Caiellis from the machines attached to him, some of which was keeping the boy's mana levels high enough for him to survive.

She was reasonably thin, though not as much as the king's second son was and was more sylphlike than skeletal, and wore a white gown that would be usually donned when the owner wanted to go to sleep or was going around their business in the morning before having a shower (or a wash if one was unavailable). Her eyes were pale blue/grey orbs that took in the small form of the littlest Lucerna, coloured in a melancholy that Marik felt himself but in a different form that the king couldn't quite place, though they flicked up towards the monarch as he stood up out of his seat. She was strangely familiar to the king, though the man couldn't place where he had seen her before and tried to wrack his mind for information concerning her but found that he had no recollection of ever seeing or meeting her again.

"Who are you?!" he demanded loudly and threateningly, though he did not draw his huge blade as he took a menacing step towards the girl who was smaller than him by about a foot and four inches. None of the doctors had reacted to her presence at all, nor the questioning shout of their sovereign, and Marik got the distinct impression that they were not aware of any change whatsoever – which meant that this strange girl who had suddenly appeared within the room without any warning must have something to do with that.

Marik didn't care at all that the figure only seemed like an innocent and pure enough young girl a couple of years older than his youngest son, because the power of the darkness took numerous malicious forms and could assume many different disguises – it could pose as a righteous warrior who had fought against the abyss all of their life, or a crying infant or toddler who had recently entered the world, or an old and motherly woman who appealed to the good for help – or even a beautiful and alluring captain who enticed the Lucaelians into her embrace, as in the case of the last vampire who almost killed the king under the orders of Johnias before Akroma sent her away to lick her wounds and almost killed her, though it had seemed like Aksua had died at the time.

He would not hesitate at all to strike her down in the protection of his youngest son if she did not adequately explain herself or tried to do anything to threaten the chances of Caiellis, no matter what she looked like or how genuine she seemed. There was something ethereal about her, a strange, empyrean quality to the girl which fit with how she had spontaneously appeared and how the surgeons carried on their jobs of preparing equipment, studying monitors and information on sheets they had created with mana and in books of their order, and occasionally adjusting the dials of machines attached to Caiellis.

She seemed like she was a part of this world and yet simultaneously not of it as if she was a product of Sancturia instead, but the king sensed that she was not a spirit of the departed that had come to bless or hurt the youngest prince as she did not have the same aura and did not evoke the same reverence or solemn respect from the forty year old as one of the ancestral spirits, nor the quiet sadness that was inspired by those who had been dragged back from beyond the veil and forced to serve the darkness – or even the disgust that he felt towards the damned souls who had been claimed by the demons that they sold themselves to and used to fight against and terrorise the forces of Lucael.

The girl raised her hands in a placating gesture to the intimidating king, her eyes highlighting her trepidation, although she did not seem particularly scared by the fact that she was in the presence of a distressed and protective father who would do anything to guard his unconscious youngest son who could and was perfectly willing to eviscerate her within a single second if need be. The girl opened her mouth, her voice soft and not malicious, though that did not mean anything to the king, "I do not mean any harm, Marik. I am not going to hurt little Caiellis or yourself. I only want to help, to share what I know with you so that you can better aid your youngest son."
"What do you mean?" Marik questioned, his hand remaining on the hilt of his greatsword and his posture staying as frightening as it was. He did not back down, but he did not take any more steps forwards towards the girl – or whatever she was, as it was clear that she was no normal human if she was one at all or merely took that form. She looked up at him, stepping backwards away from Caiellis's bed and correctly inferring that such an action would put the king at more ease as it meant that there was less of a chance of her threatening his youngest son – though the monarch did not change how he was acting because of this. She replied, her eyes flicking to the youngest Lucerna once again before returning to gazing back at Marik, cautiously but without any fear, "I am not going to hurt your son, but I cannot tell you who I am because you would not understand it. I am sorry about that, but that is the truth. Rest assured that I am not part of the darkness, nor am I motivated by evil. I know that you are scared for Cai, and rightly so, but believe me when I say that all I want to do is help you both – to help all of you."

The king narrowed his eyes at the girl who was quite pretty, her eyes sparkling with intelligence and also tinged with a seemingly genuine desire to help and impart whatever she was going to say to the man in front of her. He moved his hand away from his sword, though that did not mean that he in any way trusted her or believe what she was saying – but if that was the case then he would be able to obliterate her with magic or his fists if that was necessary, and took another step towards the foot of the bed, moving protectively around so that he was closer to her and almost between her and his youngest son.

"And why should I believe at all what you are saying? Why should I not think that you are associated with the abyss, because the creatures of that forsaken realm can take many forms and yours could easily be one of them? Why should I not strike you down right now?" the king bombarded her with questions, although inside he believed that the girl was probably not a denizen of the darkness as she would have struck already or done something to Caiellis – and the boy was not reacting in any way to the presence of her so he doubted that. At any rate, he kept his guard up, as he would have done so even if the girl had entered in a conventional method as he did not know her and his sons' safety was his top priority at the moment.

"Why have you not attacked me already?" the girl asked, her eyes suddenly covered with an inscrutable sheen as Marik stared at the grey irises and the body language of the youth. He didn't respond, though he knew that she was right by saying that – as normally he would have instantly attacked anything that he found remotely threatening which had suddenly entered the operating room of his youngest son. He thought that it was most likely not a coincidence that she had appeared when Alexander was gone, because there was no telling how the devastated seventeen year old would react to this new arrival and if Marik would have been able to calm him down enough so that he did not attack her.

He wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't already banished her from the room, but he did not feel that she was threatening nor was his sense of danger that had been honed through years of brutal warfare screaming at him to react past his instinct of a father's protective fear for his youngest son. Then again, he hadn't felt that he was in danger when he was with the beautiful Lucaelian captain that Aksua had masqueraded as until just before she revealed her true motives and tried to kill him when he was at his most vulnerable, so he didn't entirely trust his sense for detecting evil when it was hidden as innocence. He watched her as she watched him, and eventually told her, "Fine. I will listen to your words, but if you do anything that I consider to be remotely detrimental to the health of Caiellis or anyone else here then I will not delay in killing you."

She nodded in response, the caution fading from her eyes, and turned back towards the boy on the bed, her lips curling into a sad smile that Marik had seen before from himself as she beheld the frail form of the youngest Lucerna who was breathing weakly with the aid of the oxygen mask. She stared silently at Caiellis for a few seconds, though made no movements towards him because it was clear that Marik would tear her apart if he did so and did not entirely trust her – as the king couldn't, having not ever seen her before and in the strange circumstances she had appeared.

Just as the forty year old was about to impatiently prompt her to speak, her mouth opened, and her gentle and slightly comforting voice broke the tense silence that had fallen within the room, "As I said earlier, Cai is on a crossroads. He is trapped within his mind because of the wounds of his body, as you already know, and he is currently in between two paths."

"My son's name is Caiellis," Marik growled at her, uncomfortable with this unknown girl using the nickname which was the shortened version of the name he had chosen for his and Emili's second child that was utilised mostly by Alexander and Guardian Tristram as well as a few of the others who knew the youngest Lucerna relatively well. He had never liked the pet name which had been given to the boy the day he had been born by an endeared big brother, but then again he had never liked Alexander's nickname of Alex which had often been used by Emili (and he had always had an inkling that she had picked the name so that she could do that as well) unless she was telling the boy off, feeling that the shortened versions didn't do justice to his sons' brilliant names. He had never used them himself, and he wasn't informal enough with either of them now that it wouldn't be weird if he suddenly starting doing so, especially not Caiellis.

He thought deeply about the words that the girl had spoken as she replied, not looking up from the boy in the bed, "Of course. I didn't mean to offend you. At any rate, Caiellis is still on the crossroads within his mind. He will have to make a decision soon, even though he will not even be aware that he is making the decision himself."

"What sort of decision?" Marik asked despite himself, even though he was still not fully convinced that he should be believing the information that was being told to him because of its dubious origin. But any information involving his youngest son was information that he was going to listen to as otherwise there was no way that he could help Caiellis, no way that he could stave off the feelings of uselessness that gnawed at him from within – even though he was undoubtedly a failure of a father, there was no questioning that. The girl turned back to him, her young and pale features pulled into a grim expression and her eyes half obscured by the silver fringe over them as she looked back up at the tall king.

"A decision that will affect his chances at recovering. But he needs you – you and Alex … ander (she added after a moment) – to help him make the right choice in this decision. And you do not have to worry about touching him, King Marik. He needs you to touch him, to make contact with him … to talk to him. He needs you both to help him find his way back from where he is right now," the girl explained mysteriously, although Marik got the impression that what she was telling him was all that she truly knew and that she wasn't hiding anything from him, not that he could isolate and find out why he believed that. He nodded, urging her to continue even though he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he should trust whatever she was saying, and even though he wanted to interrupt and barrage her with questions he resolved to listen to what this enigmatic girl was saying before he asked more.

"He needs you to guide him, to lead him from where he is right now," she murmured, though her voice was still loud enough for the king to hear her clearly. Unable to stop himself, Marik cut in, his darkened eyes alight with worry for his youngest son, "What do you mean, where he is? Where is he?"
"Inside of his mind, and close to the other side. Caiellis is drifting in the middle of here and there. He will have to make a choice, choose one of two paths, even though he won't know that he is doing it. He will need to know that he is wanted and needed here in order to make the right decision, because he won't be able to follow the right path on his own," the mysterious girl answered cryptically as she stared unflinchingly back at Marik, whose own eyes were wide with desperate concern for his youngest son.

"And if he doesn't make this right decision? If he doesn't follow this path that you are talking about?" he demanded, his words thick with his fear from his frayed emotions. With grim finality, the girl responded, though her voice was level and calm, "Then he will die. And even if he does make the right decision, then there is a large chance that he will do so, or that he will never recover completely – but there is a chance that he will not, that he will survive, and that is better than the certainty of death that the wrong path holds."

Marik swallowed, though he had known at the back of his mind that this was what the girl would say to him. He turned back to Caiellis, knowing in his heart that he would do everything in his power that he could to aid the boy in selecting the correct option in his unconscious state, that he would make the boy know that he was loved and wanted in the world of the awake in any way that he could. He did not reply, because words were not needed, and stayed silent as the girl said: "And do not forget about your eldest son either, King Marik. He is not yet ready to leave his brother's side."

The king narrowed his eyes at the change of tone, but when he looked up to ask for further clarification on what she meant she had gone, disappeared without a trace and with no evidence that she had been there in the first place – leaving Marik wondering whether or not she was merely a figment of his imagination as her words lingered on his mind. He turned back to his youngest son, mulling over if what she had said was true and finding no reason that it wouldn't be – as, really, she had not told him anything that he did not know already, only focussed his thoughts upon that – which again made him ponder if she had been real or not.

At any rate, what she had said last played out in his mind once again, and since he was already stood up he knew that he should go to check upon his eldest son – as the seventeen year old was in a fragile emotional state and could easily have broken down outside of the room. He gazed at the pale face of his youngest son, and murmured, "Caiellis, you had better not go anywhere or get any worse while I go and fetch your big brother."

He turned round to the surgeons, noticing Choirmaster Esmelde flicking her gaze away from him having evidently been looking over at him when he had spoken to his youngest son, and endeavoured to meet her eyes. She did so, inclining her head reverently in respect for her Lucerna ruler whose privacy she had not intended to intrude upon, and then nodded at the question in Marik's eyes, moving closer to the youngest Lucerna's bed as she did so and saying, "Don't worry, my lord. Prince Caiellis will be safe with us while you find Alexander."

"Thank you," the king replied quietly, not wanting to leave his youngest son but knowing what the strange girl had said to him in their brief encountered which had seemed to go unnoticed by the Ordo Medella doctors sharing the room with them. He resolved to be as quick as possible, silently promising Caiellis that he would be back soon and with Alexander in tow, and strode out of the room. It was quite possible that nothing had happened to the seventeen year old, that he was just being paranoid and that Alexander was fine – that the girl had been deceiving him – but he couldn't quite believe that and sped up his pace. This would mean that he would have to force the boy to leave his brother's room on another occasion to have a break, but that would come tomorrow.

.*.*.*.

Alexander walked out of the room that held his younger brother, his mind trapped within his head as his body walked of its own accord, wanting the escape but knowing that it was selfish even if his father would have forced him to do it if he had refused the older male, knowing that he didn't deserve the break from watching over his younger brother. He knew that leaving Caiellis wouldn't make the younger boy's horrible predicament any better, that it wouldn't erase what had happened to his little brother, but his dad had been right and he needed to just get out of the room before the hopelessness consumed him completely.

He hated hospitals, because hospitals meant sickness and injuries and sometimes death and he couldn't deal with the fact that it was Cai, his baby brother, who required the medical attention, especially with the amount of damage that had been done to his younger brother.

Alex increased his pace as he thought the words, not caring where he was going because he wanted to be away, he wanted to run away from what had happened to his younger brother that he had been too weak and stupid to protect him from, despite rationally knowing that no matter how far he ran he would never be able to flee from the fact that Cai was so close to death and getting weaker every second. No distance would help him escape from that fact, and all he was doing was putting himself further away from his younger brother, but he didn't care and his mind couldn't process that as he sped into a hurtling run, his own wounds howling at him to stop even as part of his mind did the same.

Angels … Caiellis … how could this have happened? What … I don't understand … I don't know … I … I … Cai … what … what … I can't … Broken thoughts, fragmented sentences and half formed ideas cascaded through his mind as he charged down one of the corridors, only knowing that it was empty because of the lack of reaction from anyone else – though he wouldn't have heard it even if there was one because of the pounding inside of his head.

He needed to get out. Not to get out of the hospital, but to get out of the spiralling despair that was dragging him ever downwards into the pits of endless sorrow eating him out from the inside and consuming his hope, turning it into more despair. He needed to run from the reality of what had happened, even though it wouldn't change anything, it wouldn't change the truth and nothing could – but every second of being with his younger brother was making him worse and worse, and he wouldn't be able to help Cai recover if he could barely control himself.

Now that he was out of the presence of his impressionable baby brother who had always valued Alexander's words and always taken Alexander's statements to heart (meaning that sometimes when Alex said something harsh that he didn't really mean Cai would think badly of himself because of it unless his big brother said something) he could let all of the emotions that he had bottled up inside of him, not wanting his younger brother to feel them, to feel that his big brother was losing his hope that he would make it through this, out. They had been rising constantly, becoming something that he could no longer control now that he didn't have to think about somehow upsetting his unconscious younger brother, and Alexander's vision blurred as stinging tears dripped out of his eyes.

Hyperventilating, his sight distorting even more because of the fact that he wasn't breathing properly at all and his broken ribs which had nowhere near healed fully were restricting the expansion of his lungs, Alex's normal sight of the world around him was replaced by the images that he couldn't stop from flooding up to meet him after pressing them down in everything but his dreams where he hadn't been able to suppress them.

Caiellis … I'm so sorry … This never, ever should have happened to you … little brother … I'm … I'm … sorry … I can't … I can't help you … I can't do anything …

Alexander found that he couldn't run any more, not with the images rising up inside of him, and fell down next to one of the white walls of the interior of the Ordo Medella hospital, not knowing how far he had hurtled from his brother's room as he tried to escape from the awful truth of what happened. He rested his hands on his lap and stared at the ground, images of his sibling laid unmoving and broken in their father's arms, covered in blood and not breathing, filled his mind and assaulted his distraught psyche.

Angels … Cai … Cai … there is so much … so much blood … There was so much blood. So much blood. It was everywhere, the crimson drenching everything around him like the Rain of Gore had, but within the wash of unnaturally vibrant scarlet there was another pigment of red, blood from another source that the seventeen year old was horrified to see. He lifted his hands up, the large and shaking palms covered in his brother's lifeblood, and stared at them in horror as the crimson, stark against the pale skin even though his hands had been scratched by rock and bruised by the Master of Violence that he hadn't been able to defeat in time – and hadn't defeated at all, in fact – dripped over his skin.

It was the evidence of his failure.

His failure to be a good older brother, his failure to protect his younger sibling from what had happened to him, the possession of his father that had made their dad's body turn against Cai and the unnatural spite of the Lord of Riots that his brother had annihilated, his failure to make Caiellis feel loved enough that he would not even consider suicide. Alexander shook as he stared at his hands, before lifting his arms up and wrapping them around his head as he brought his knees up and pressed his head into them in a way that Cai had often done when morose or emotionally lost, collapsing over them. Tortured, grief stricken sobs escaped his mouth as he finally let the emotions that had been building up inside of him ever since dad had told him what truly happened out.

Alexander couldn't stop it. The fatigue, the constant fear and the loneliness without his younger brother caught up with him and overwhelmed his feeble defence. He began to shake even more, his hands and arms that were already shuddering joined by his shoulders and chest until thousands of anguished sobs afflicted his tired body.

All he could see was his younger brother, his younger brother who was dead in his arms as he sloppily tried to revive the thirteen year old in his panic, the younger brother he had wrenched out of his father's grip because the man hadn't been doing anything to help him and the younger brother that he had been forced to breathe a second time for when the Angel of the Black Sun had given life back to Caiellis's lifeless form.

He could feel his brother's blood on him, feel the boy limp in his arms as he sobbed over him. He could feel the boy's blood in his mouth, the coppery tang of his little brother's vital fluids that made him the sibling of Alexander something that he had never wanted to taste and never wanted to experience ever again. He could feel the way that Caiellis's small chest had flopped under Marik's compressions, feel the way that the only thing he had been doing when performing mouth to mouth resuscitation had been making his brother bleed out of his mouth even more.

Angels … there is so much blood … so much of his blood … I … why … he … no … no … Alexander gagged at the stench of the gore that filled his nostrils, bile rising within him as he felt his brother's blood in his mouth again, acidic vomit spilling out of his lips as he cried and threw up the half dissolved remnants of the sandwich he had eaten earlier, his chest heaving – but even with the horrible taste of the bile, it didn't get rid of the iron tang of his brother's blood.

He could feel Caiellis's small and thin arms weakly thrashing beneath his hands as blood bubbled up from his mouth and filled the oxygen mask, could see the image of Cai trying desperately to pull it off as his fingers scrabbled against the edges clear glass that made up the transparent sections of the piece of equipment helping to save his life, and it made his stomach churn to think of all that had happened to his fragile baby brother because of a series of mistakes both he and their dad had made in caring for him.

He had no idea how long he sat there, rocking back and forth, wallowing within despair and self-recrimination, stomach heaving as vomit trickled down his lip that he wiped away before more was thrown up, sobbing his heart out as he truly came to terms with the reality that he might never see his younger brother awake and happy ever again if Cai didn't improve at all. All he did know was that his entire life was inside that operating theatre fighting for the chance to keep on living and that nothing else apart from that mattered. Not prosecuting wars against those who served the demons of the foul abyss which surrounded Lucael and blackened Sancturia, not avenging his mother's death and the deaths of thousands, millions of others in the civil war because of Johnias's treachery, not even protecting the Kingdom of Light from attack – though that was still very important, but it meant nothing if Caiellis wasn't there to be protected as well.

Caiellis was what mattered. Caiellis was what always mattered most. Nothing else even came close, and now Alexander was on the road to losing the main reason – the only reason – his life was worth living, all because of his failure to be the protector that Caiellis needed. He was so sorry, but that didn't change anything, and the tears poured out of his eyes as he sobbed and coughed and gagged at the stench of the blood and the acrid bile in his mouth as the images of his younger brother dead or dying flooded his mind, overloading it with the amount of distress and sadness. It would have been even worse if Alex had seen his brother's attempt at suicide like their father had, or if it had been him that his younger sibling had been forced to fend off to keep alive before taking down an Archdemon all on his own, but Alexander couldn't process that at the current time and all he could think about was how he had failed his brother and how Caiellis was going to die and it would be all his fault.

Caiellis wasn't dead yet. But Alexander knew that it wouldn't be long.

The sound of heavy footsteps only just registered past the pounding within the seventeen year old's head and the pathetic sobbing noises that he was making past his hyperventilating pants for breath, barely audible over the noises inside of his skull. Weeping convulsively and confined by his sorrow, the boy didn't act upon the sudden noise, not possessing the mental ability to wrench himself free from his current state and confront whoever was closing in on him.

A strong hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, and Alexander reacted violently, thrashing all around him in a flurry of kicks and punches as he fought back against this unknown assailant, but almost all of them were blocked almost effortlessly on hard flesh and those that did impact had no effect. His blind flailing achieved nothing, and the grip of his shoulder that had been firm but not painful tightened as another hand grabbed hold of one of his wrists. The man grunted, and the sudden, primal impulse to attack the person who had sprung up on him when he had been ensnared by his haunting memories of Caiellis's near death faded when the familiar person yelled at him, "Alexander! Calm down! It is just me! It is just your father! I am not going to hurt you!"

"D-dad?" Alex choked out through the sobs, the adrenaline that had coursed through him fading and leaving him with his guilt and sadness once more, and he thought could blearily recognise that the person who had reached out to him was indeed his father, though his face was distorted through the haze of tears. Marik replied softly, although his voice was still firm in the way that he hoped would inform his eldest son that he was safe, "Yes, son, it is me. Your father. You are alright. You are safe here, Alexander."

Thinking that perhaps he shouldn't be that pathetic, especially not in front of his father whom he idolised and wanted to appear strong in front of, a suitable heir to the throne and someone that Marik didn't have to focus on so that he could concentrate all of his parenting upon their youngest, was soon overwhelmed by another rush of all consuming despair that wracked the seventeen year old with more pitiful whimpering as his stomach and ribs ached in protest to all of the juddering movements.

Marik watched as his eldest son dissolved into a fit of crying and sobbing completely uncharacteristic of the middle Lucerna, keeping his right hand on the boy's shoulder as he left go of his wrist with his left, unwilling to reveal that Alexander's resistance had made his own injuries flare into life once again. He wondered what he should say, what he should do, whether he should keep his distance and let Alexander solve this himself, do that but offer words of encouragement to his eldest son as the boy recovered on his own, or to give in to his fatherly urge to embrace the seventeen year old and start acting like the dad that he should have been over a month ago to his two sons – even though it might be too late for one of them.

Noticing the vomit that had spilled out of the teenager's lips and stained the clothes he was wearing, Marik's mind was made up, and he pulled the unresisting adolescent into a hug as he crouched down in front of the distraught boy, aware that there was little he could do to salve his son's emotional state past somehow bring Caiellis back into consciousness and awareness but determined to do all that he was able to do in order to aid his eldest boy. He gently pulled Alexander in so that the boy's head was resting on his shoulder, staying silent as the boy's shuddering sobs made him shake against his father who offered solidarity and comfort freely.

"That's it, son," Marik whispered softly, rocking the boy – his little boy - back and forth as he sobbed and cried his heart out. Marik had never seen his oldest child so distraught and heart broken apart from when he had found his father and younger brother in the place where the worst events of the king's life had occurred. He felt his son's young body shaking violently in his arms and held on tight, silently praying to the angels and any other deity that would listen even if he didn't believe in them to to give both of his sons – and him – the strength to get through this.

"Just let it go. Just let it all out," he gently urged. He held back his own tears with an iron will, the impulse to cry pushing even with even more strength than it usually did. This was about helping Alexander, helping him come to fateful terms with what was happening to them and helping him to stay strong when it seemed that there was no hope. There would be time enough later for Mairk to grieve.

He knew what his eldest son would have been thinking about, because it was the same things that flashed behind Marik's eyelids in the blinking moments where he couldn't push it down and focus on his current children, not the past representations of them, and he shifted Alexander round so that the boy's face was in front of his and he could look into his son's eyes. Eventually, the seventeen year old stopped crying, wiping the tears that had fallen from his eyes and incredibly embarrassed by the whole thing, and Marik tried to smile at him for a moment, muttering, "I told you that you would make yourself sick," although it was too quiet for Alexander to hear as his breath hitched through him trying to get it under control once again.

"C-Cai?" the boy asked through sobs that he tried to suppress, though Marik wished that his eldest son didn't feel so ashamed of letting out his emotions in front of his father – or anyone, for that matter. It reminded him of what had happened when Alexander had been wounded, when Aurelia had Summoned herself into the material realm for a very brief time (as Marik entered the room as soon as she left and spoken to his sons through the bathroom door, leaving for a few more minutes because he felt that he was intruding on their privacy before returning as he hadn't heard them exiting the room which had probably been the location of his eldest's break down).

The king knew that despite the fact that Alexander must have run here, he wouldn't have wanted to leave his brother, just escape from the all pervading atmosphere of sorrow and potential loss which surrounded the unconscious Caiellis and reminded them all of the fact that they might never see their precious youngest awake again because of what Marik had done. Even with his near mental collapse that was caused by the culmination of all of the stress and hopelessness that had swirled around within the seventeen year old who felt that he couldn't talk about it with anyone and didn't want to act weak in front of others so that they would focus on his brother or someone else if Caiellis wasn't in danger, Alexander's main priority was still his younger sibling, and the adolescent had managed to mentally connect the fact that Marik was here to the truth that Caiellis was without any family members – which in turn spurred him to recover from his lapse faster as it meant that the king's first child could return to his brother in a shorter amount of time.

"Caiellis is fine. He hasn't woken up yet," the king replied, wondering when the word "fine" had lost all meaning to him, as in this instance it simply meant that his youngest son hadn't got any worse. There was no way that Caiellis was "fine", but Alexander already knew what condition his younger brother was in and repeating it to him wasn't going to help anyone in the present situation. He gripped the boy's shoulder tightly, wanting to bring him into another hug but also not wanting to be out of his second son's presence for very long in case things did begin to deteriorate, and wished that he had someone else to advise him on what was the best course of action to take here. The seventeen year old was still visibly shuddering in his grasp, though that was nothing to do with Marik and the man was glad that he had been able to get his son to recognise him after his initial reaction of recoiling away from the king.

He wanted to tell Alexander that his son would always be able to share things with him, that if the boy wanted someone to talk to about his worries and concerns then that was what he was there for, but knew for certain that the teenager would not take his words to heart and continue to bottle up his emotions until they exploded once again. That, for all that he was trying to be the good father that the middle Lucerna deserved, the only one who could help Alexander now was Caiellis.

Marik was not going to inform his eldest son of what he had seen, the enigmatic girl which he had spoken to, as he had numerous misgivings about her actual appearance in the room and was still unconvinced that she wasn't a figment of his imagination – as while he encouraged and forced his older boy to at least attempt to take care of himself as stay as healthy as they could manage, he was barely following his own advice at all and while he would never admit it he constantly felt nauseous and bilious, especially when he thought about what he had done to his youngest son, what pain his hands and condemnations of the boy had caused.

The boy didn't need to know, he didn't need to be any more frightened or concerned than he already was (if that was even possible), and Alexander was already doing all that he could to convince Caiellis to come back to them and wake up when he was able to. Marik would keep that particular encounter and the conversation that it entailed to himself, as he should, due to the fact that he didn't want his eldest son to think that he was going mad or suffering himself.

"Need to … need to get back to him," the younger male protested, pushing weakly against his father who loosened his grip somewhat, not realising that he had involuntarily tightened it because of his thoughts and the need to protect both of his children. Marik sent his son a sad smile, and responded, "Yes, we will. But first we need to get you cleaned up. We can go to the bathroom next to Caiellis's operating room, then you can go and see your brother again."

It seemed as if Alexander was going to fight against that, but a brief glower from the king shut him up and forced him into compliance, sighing sadly and blinking his eyes in misery to get rid of the tears still pricking at them whenever he thought of his younger brother. This was truly pathetic, Alexander knew. He should have been able to take control of his emotions himself and assert dominance over them instead of allowing them to place him in such a vulnerable position, forcing his dad to come and see to him instead of remaining where he belonged at this grievous and serious time – by Caiellis's bedside and protecting the youngest Lucerna from anything and everything while he recovered.

He was the older brother, the one who was supposed to be strong, but twice now he had let himself fall into selfish despair instead of combating it. Alexander wasn't naïve enough not to know that he had powerful emotions and had to give into them sometimes, but not right now, not when it was his younger brother that was hurt and still in a perilous position. Everything seemed hopeless and dire, but Caiellis could still recover and Alex was going to hold onto that with all of his might. He resolved inside that he would not let this happen again, but even as he thought that he knew that he was lying to himself, that he wouldn't be able to resist the sadness knowing what was happening to his baby brother and that there was no way that he could help.

He was deceiving himself if he thought that he was going to be able to stem off the forlornness and anguish, if he thought that he would ever be able to control himself until Cai woke up and flashed his trademark dimples at his big brother again, because nothing had changed, they were still in the steady decline into loss and death and his weakness had made no difference to Caiellis's condition. He couldn't live without his younger brother, and resolving to be strong was something that he couldn't do – but it was something that he would try. He wasn't going to improve, was only going to get worse, as his own state of mind directly correlated with his little brother's physical health, but he would remain by his brother's side and offer all the support that he could get – and he would not take away any of that support which was offered by their dad from his sibling.

Alex didn't resist as his father led him to the bathroom and wiped off the sick from his clothes with a wet cloth towel, only really paying attention to his thoughts and the tragedy that was closing in on them at a constant rate until Cai started showing improvements which had not happened at all. He thrust his emotions away again in their cage, needing to prepare to be strong for his younger brother once again.

Marik saw his son visibly change, the utter grief fading from his expressive blue eyes and being replaced by the constant sadness which had filled them ever since the seizures which had wracked Caiellis had died down. He wished that his son didn't feel that he had to be strong simply so no one would pay attention to him, but that was both the duty of a selfless Lucerna and the duty of an older brother that Alexander had imposed upon himself, and his boy wouldn't listen if Marik ever told him to stop. He only knew that he would rather that Alexander thought that he didn't have to sacrifice himself for his family, for Marik believed that such a thing was his responsibility as his sons' father and the eldest in their family – that Alexander and Caiellis shouldn't have to think that way, as such a way of thinking did not belong exclusively to the older brother of the youngest prince.

But that did not last long, as when Marik let go of the cloth and turned back around from placing it in the sink Alexander had broken down again, sliding down the wall and almost falling over if not for the grip Marik's strong arms had on him. He held onto his son with all of the strength that he had, whispering encouragements and soothing words that he wasn't sure himself made sense or were actual words or not, but it did not matter at all. He stroked the boy's blonde hair gently, as he rocked him again, knowing how badly this was all affecting Alexander by the fact that he had already tried to push away his sadness and repair his fortifications to ward off the depression within and the grief had consumed him once again. He had no idea how long they stayed there in the small bathroom which was usually used by surgeons wanting to clean their implements or the patients of the room that they were next door to, but Alexander had cried himself to sleep, once again unable to give into the exhaustion which had claimed him – the only time he would relinquish control of his tired body and allow it to slumber. The dry tear tracks on his face made him look impossibly young.

Marik shifted his son, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and the other underneath his legs, mindful of the boy's wounds and not wanting to hurt Alexander or startle him should he wake up. The seventeen year old was a muscular teenager, almost as big as his father was (and he would definitely reach Marik's height and weight within a few more years of growth) and certainly not light (though not unhealthily heavy at all as all of his mass came from muscle), but Marik had little difficultly at all carrying his eldest son back into the room even if it hurt his wounds more, an ignorable pain that he paid no heed to.

The doctors smiled sympathetically at him as he re-entered the surgery, instantly looking over to Caiellis in the bed and the monitors to absorb all the information that he could about his youngest son's current state, and gently laid out his first born son on the chair in which he spent most of his time so that he would wake up and be able to see his younger brother again – even if the king had been slightly tempted to take him to one of the many spare bedrooms in the hospital or even the Sola Atria, though that would have been cruel to his eldest. He might have done in only a few weeks ago, not realising the bond between his children now that they were teenagers, but Marik was learning and he knew for certain that both Alexander and Caiellis would be safer if they were in each other's company.

He gently placed the boy in the chair, shifting the blanket which he had asked to be fetched the first time Alexander had fallen asleep after the siege of Usnaan and their hasty escape to Civitas Sol, careful not to wake up the boy because he knew that the seventeen year old needed every minute of sleep that he could get.

He wearily sat down in his own chair with another sigh, glancing over at his youngest son and noticing that the boy's face was lit up in a slightly different light than before – at first he thought that it was because of some improvement, or a change in the spells that the doctors were using to combat his comatose condition, but when Marik looked over at the window which had its curtains usually closed he saw why. In the time that the king had been absent from the room, the moon had come out, a dazzling silver orb in the blackness of the eternal night that shone with its lunar light into the room and over the City of the Sun.

It was not exactly a rare occurrence, nowhere near as rare as the appearance of the holy sun which hadn't lit up the Kingdom of Light for over fourteen years now, before Caiellis was born (the time before that only being three years earlier, coinciding with Alexander's birth which had been seen as a sign), but still hardly common and it only penetrated through the darkness of the abyss every few months. A halo of lucent light surrounded the moon, a beautiful display of illumination that would augment White mana underneath it.

This occurrence, the only time that the only moon that the Lucaelian's saw (as there were apparently others that the nations outside of the abyss had in their skies of night, though none had the holy significance as Lucael's sacred moon) was powerful enough to break through the reviled shadows, was known as a paraselene. It was a serene moment, said to be a blessing from the Angel of Hope as Avacyn was associated with the moon of the Kingdom of Light, and while the king had seen it many times it still barely ever failed to capture his attention. It had special significance in aiding the destruction of the foul curses and hexes used by the denizens of the hated nether realm, and Marik remembered Akroma once using the moon's power to aid her in combat against an ambushing party of mages that wielded a variety of malicious auras.

If only Caiellis was under the effects of a curse, something that the moon and the blessings of the Angel of Hope would have been able to combat, as they could do nothing for his youngest son in his entirely physically wounded condition. Marik did appreciate the sentiment of the Ordo Medella surgeons in opening the curtains, however, knowing that they would do so across the whole hospital to give hope to the patients and their relatives.

It was something that had fascinated his youngest son back before the civil war, as the baby boy had never seen the celestial magnificence of the divine solar light of the angels and the paraselene was the closest he had ever got to it. He recalled the boy watching it with wonder, enraptured by the silver orb and pointing to it and saying its name to impress his parents as Alexander sat at his side and laughed happily at his baby brother's antics. The king knew, somehow, that his youngest son would still be fascinated by it now as well, that Caiellis would have adored looking at it and sat by the window so that he could get a closer observance of it.

The moon twinkled as he stared at it, and he turned back to his youngest son, the boy's pale face lit up in the lucent illuminescence, shimmering under the light of the moon and making him look like some sort of kind spirit as his soft brown curls reflected the silver glow as they rested gently upon his head. Marik watched with baited breath, silently hoping for something to happen, that something would change for the better in the condition of his youngest son because of what one could consider an auspicious sign. After a few seconds, the king released a breath that he hadn't realised he had been holding when there was no change. The thirteen year old in the hospital bed didn't stir – and why would he have? If the boy didn't react at all to his older brother's touch, then he wasn't going to suddenly wake up because of a moon shining on him. He spun back around to the moon once more, sad that the youngest Lucerna was missing it.

Caiellis might not ever see a paraselene again.

Marik choked back his own feelings of despair and helplessness when the treacherous thought pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. It made him feel dangerous and reckless. He wanted the throw something violently and irreverently through the window in an attempt to smash the moon out of the midnight veil of the dark sky, destroy the paraselene and any other paraselenes that would follow. If Caiellis couldn't see it then no one else deserved to. Marik closed his eyes, rubbing his throbbing temples with his fingers and trying to push down the rage, anger and desperation which screamed inside of his head.

His son better recover. Caiellis better recover, because Marik wasn't sure if he would be able to live any longer if he didn't. However, even if he didn't want to even think about such a possibility, he knew for certain that if Caiellis didn't make it through this, if his precious youngest went to join his mother in perpetual paradise in the realm of angels, he knew that the world would become as cold as it had done before Orzhova brought his son, her second Summoner, back to life. And he knew that Johnias was going to pay from tearing him away from his children for so long, whether or not he had anything to do with what the horror had forced Marik to do. Nothing apart from making sure that Alexander would be fine enough to live on and obtain as much happiness as he could with the loss of his younger brother would stop him from hunting down his traitorous twin brother and slaying him when he judged Alexander suitable enough to become king.

.*.*.*.

The communion began in the same way as all of the others, although this time the energised expectation and fateful anticipation which had been exponentially rising in each consecutive connection was at a crescendo of grim suspense. The Eternal Realm was the same as it had always been, but each of the Confederates stood at equidistant points around the disc in the centre of their immortal meeting place was certain that the strange area around them could feel that their plans were coming to fruition and that now was the time to act.

The imaginary stars in the distance traced urgent patterns across the endless expanse of silvery darkness around them, dancing to the sublime and unknowable rhythm of the mysteries of the cosmos. The disc thrummed, but then it always did, only normally Beta would not pay too much attention to it. A melody poured out from it, sweet, sour, deep and light, slow and out of time yet lyrically perfect without words. Endless characters and hieroglyphs stretched across the disk in which they were stood, impossibly vast yet infinitely small pieces to a symphony that encompassed the whole of the two worlds and many more yet had no meaning.

Every word was spoken to its rhythm, each footfall pressed into place by the ordination of the everlasting watchers who followed its endless song, the identities of the masks that the five humans stood at five points on the gyrating yet motionlessness circle. The world danced and they watched it dancing; they were the shepherds, the disk told them, the identities that the masks they wore told them, they were the shepherds and the inhabitants of the two worlds were their flock.

They were the weavers and the life and light of the world were their twin threads, spun into an aria of eternity, a coil of song and silence that entwined forwards into the past and backwards into the future. This was what the mask told him, this was what Beta was, a thing that the latest man of many wearing the role would have never dreamed was even a possibility but was only the first step into the enigma that was twinned reality.

But they were not hear to ponder the mysteries of the two worlds, but to safeguard them against the growing threat that threatened to extinguish and enslave all as it had done many thousands of years in the past before the first bearers of the masks had thwarted it.

"So, Delta," Alpha's harsh and grating voice broke Beta's introspective musing, and he turned towards the largest of his fellow Confederates. The man, for Alpha could be nothing else, was missing a part of his arm, hacked off at the elbow in the violence of the Confederacy's plans that would end in the world being saved from the coming cataclysm made manifest. No longer did Alpha, who fancied himself as their leader because of his title, intone the words of the usual Confederacy protocol, the being utterly controlling the human body it had taken most recently filled with an impatience that they all felt, but rushing into the fray could end in the ruination of stratagems and plans carefully constructed over aeons, something that they could ill afford at such a critical stage. "What is the situation? Are we able to act now?"
The addressed turned towards him, her sea green eyes regarding him solemnly through the bone white mask in the shape of the fox that made her seem even more mysterious but also akin to a predator – but not a reckless one that would charge after prey, no, an intelligent and clever predator that would stalk and manipulate its chosen meal into placing itself on their plate so that its fangs could be sunk into it. She replied calmly enough, though her voice had a hint of fear within it that belied the fact that none of them had been able to utterly annihilate their emotions apart from Gamma, "Yes. The pieces are in place. The stage is set. The Lord of Riots met his deserved fate, and the slayer of the youngest Archdemon has performed as we expected, although there were and are some additional complications. The darkness grows, but as we all no it is not quite time."
They all nodded in response, though in different ways. All thought differently about the situation, although all were willing to push that aside and embrace the unity that made the Confederacy so strong – that made the Confederacy the perfect weapon to combat the abyss. Beta still had severe misgivings about the strategy that they had chosen, despite the fact that it was too late now to change it, so he would not communicate his doubts.

Or, apparently he would, as without even realising it he had begun to speak, his old voice breaking the quiet that had filled the Eternal Realm in the face of Delta's sombre proclamation. But once he had started, he felt a form of conviction, though not quite zeal, filling him, and he decided to continue, "I don't believe that this method is the only way that we can achieve our goals and protect the world. It seems so wrong, so dependant upon specific factors."

"Why bring this up now, Beta?! Why do you insist on making this difficult for us?!" Alpha bellowed at him, snarling his rage at the masked man in between him and Gamma. Instinctively, the Confederate who was known as the headmaster of the Scholaria Magnus in the material plane shrank back from the explosion of rage, but soon steeled himself and stood up straighter, meeting Alpha's baleful gaze with his own. Before he could reply, the dispassionate tones of Gamma cut in, their cold voice splitting through the sudden rise of anger within Beta, "As much as Alpha is allowing his emotions to control him, logically I must agree with him. This plan was agreed upon approximately eleven days ago dependant upon which time period one utilises. You should never have given your acquiescence had you thought that there was something inefficient about the current strategy we are prosecuting. Even though it is far too late to change now, what would you suggest that we implement to alter our plan of action to better suit your thoughts? It is pointless to make complaints when one does not have a superior alternative to present."

Beta suddenly felt all of his defiance, all of his humanity, deflating underneath the emotionless logic of his fellow Confederate stood to the left of him. He really didn't have a better suggestion that he could tell them, and all he did know was what that what they were doing seemed so wrong to him. He muttered, dejected, "It's just … he is so young … someone that young doesn't deserve-"
The man was cut off when Alpha, shuddering with anger that poured off of him in waves of pure fury, stepped into the centre of the circle and then in front of Beta in two swift strides, ignoring his usual adherence to the rules that the Confederacy had obeyed ever since their inception and entering Beta's part of the circle – with such an unprecedented act making all of the Confederates react in shock. Towering over the much smaller man, Alpha's single remaining hand grabbed the front of Beta's robe, lifting him off of the ground and slamming him into the crystalline pillar behind him, the man's head bashing on the emblazoned glyph of a B stylised in the ways of the ancients which had been there to designate his place from the conception of the Confederacy. Beta's feet dangled above the ground as his hands pawed at the armoured one of Alpha, the man stronger than him even with only one arm, and with no way to get him off because magic was forbidden and inaccessible within the Eternal Realm.

"Alpha!" Epsilon shrieked, its childish voice a warbling cry that split through the shocked gasp of both Delta and Beta. "What are you doing?! You aren't supposed to leave your area of the circle!"

He pushed his helmed head into the man's face until they were virtually nose to nose, his hand leaving bruises on the front of Beta's collarbones with the strength that he was pressing into them, and growled, his voice a threatening hiss, "I am sick of your constant complaints and sympathy for these mortals that we need to manipulate in order to save the world from darkness. You already know what we need to do and why we need to do it, so why do you insist on making this more difficult for us all?!"
"I..." Beta managed to grind out, resisting the urge to kick at his fellow Confederate because of the fact he knew at the back of his mind Alpha wouldn't hurt him – or would he? None of the other Confederates were interfering, too scared of the potential consequences of leaving their assigned areas and breaking the traditional rule which had never been ignored up to this point.

"Save your words! I'm tired of you trying to be on the side of those that we need to sacrifice for the greater good! Do you want everything that we have planned, every life that has already been ended because of our machinations to go to waste simply because you feel for a child?!" Alpha spat, tightening his one armed grip on the other Confederate.

"Get back in your place right now, Alpha," Gamma intoned, speaking the words with no emotion or human inflection within them at all, but there was a hidden note of authority within them and Beta blew in a breath as the pressure on his chest lessened and he was lowered slightly, though he still had to reach out with his feet to touch the ground with them. He hadn't realised how monstrously large Alpha was until he saw him face to face like this and had to come to terms with the size of his ally (although it did not seem like that at the current moment with him pinned against his crystal pillar by his so called ally).

The tone of Gamma lacked anything even vaguely resembling emotion, yet Beta still felt the command laced within, simultaneously subtly yet overtly directing Alpha away from him as the Confederate wearing the bulbous helm of reflective glass continued, "This is absurd, even when one considers your tangent towards showing the emotions of frustration and rage and your predilection to assuming that you are the commander of the Confederacy – the alpha male, as is a common term for such a role within the dialects of the world's nations, predominantly Welkalite and Erian. Release Beta immediately and return to your assigned location. I will assume leadership from now on because reason and efficiency dictates that we cannot have an extempore director so prone to giving into their emotions. Unity is the defining factor in what has allowed us to reach this point, and it will be unity and direction that ends the threat which has been building up from the years after its original defeat."

Spoken from the mouth of another, the words might have been encouraging, inspiring even, but in Gamma's cold and robotic voice it was simply a statement of indisputable fact. Eventually, presumably scowling underneath his mask, Alpha released Beta, growling and muttering curses under his breath as he walked back towards his usual station in between Gamma and Delta. Epsilon looked as if it was about to start crying, their wide and childish eyes behind their mask grown to an even greater size by the breakage of the Confederacy's age old rules, and Beta coughed as he stood up, using the crystalline pillar behind him as leverage to pull himself back to his feet after being dumped on the ground by his fellow Confederate.

"Now, are there any more objections or concerns that need raising before we can continue to enact the plan?" Gamma queried impassively, taking the lack of response apart from a few shakes of heads as an indication that he should continue. "We must execute this part of the plan with one hundred percent efficiency. Making no mistakes in paramount to the success of this entire venture. In the name of the greater good, we must succeed."

.*.*.*.

Day Fifteen

.*.*.*.

Alexander walked aimlessly through the white corridors of the Ordo Medella, having been once again told to leave by his father so that he could actually get some fresh air this time. He drifted as he stepped, his mind on other things than the steady rhythm of his feet pounding into the floor and his heart beating within his head in time to the walking.

He didn't know where he was going, and in fact he didn't care at all where he was going, because nowhere he could go would bring back his little brother from the unconscious state that he was now in, nowhere he could go was where he belonged – which was by the side of his younger sibling. He knew full well that he needed to get some exercise and that yesterday's venture at it achieved absolutely nothing in that way, but he hated it. Marik had imposed a short time limit on how long he had to spend out of the room, not because dad wanted to be cruel but because dad cared about them both even if Alexander really thought he should only be focussing on his youngest son.

Walking round the hospital without a destination was just him wasting time and exercising his aching limbs for the sake of pleasing his father and adhering to the principal that he wouldn't be able to help his own little brother if he made himself sick. But he still did it anyway, wandering around like a lost spirit unable to find the paradise that it belonged within which had been denied to it after its untimely death. He had been stopped once, when one of the burly orderlies of the Ordo Medella that he had made friends with when he had been wounded by Aksua himself had tried to talk to him and assure him that everything would be alright, but he hadn't been able to hear what the man had said to him and simply stood there and stared until he went away, smiling sympathetically and patting the younger male on the shoulder as he did so.

Alex had caught his reflection in one of the windows and mirrors within the hospital, and knew for a fact that he looked awful. He was ashen, almost as pale as his little brother, with his blue eyes sunken and hollow in their sockets. His height had been reduced somewhat because of the fact that he was constantly slumping in sadness and sorrow, and there were dark shadows underneath his eyes that belied how much emotional pain he had gone through over the last few days. Wisps of blonde stubble adorned his chin, as he hadn't been able to shave in days, though he naturally did not have much facial hair like his father, that which he did had obscured mostly by its colour of golden white.

He looked nothing like the handsome and charming prince which he had once envisioned himself to be, but at least he hadn't started getting thinner yet because of his awful diet (though he had lost weight over the whole Aksua incident and would start to do so soon if he didn't begin to eat properly again) and his muscles that he had worked hard on had not yet started to waste away due to lack of use and nourishment. Not that the boy cared, because he didn't care about anything other than his little brother, but he wasn't surprised that everyone he met or walked past seemed to show him huge amounts of concern and tried to comfort him due to how horrible he did look.

Ideally he wanted to avoid people, because people would speak to him and he couldn't stomach a conversation at all, but his path had led him to the entrance reception of the hospital on the lower floor where most official paperwork would be completed and that was the only way that he was going to be able to get outside. There was a small stall that catered for the food needs of patients and relatives of said patients sat around here, with tables and chairs strewn around the interior of the large hallway room. He idly wondered how much Caiellis, being much more shy than Alexander ever was, thought the same as he did now, how much he avoided places of people simply because he didn't want to be recognised or spoken to.

Alex reasoned that his little brother had a much more legitimate reason for that than he did, as Cai was the host of the Angel of the Black Sun who was still viewed with a mixture of awe, terror and hatred by a large proportion of the Lucaelian population. He couldn't remember the amount of other children he had beaten up when they had been younger if they had done something to his little brother because of the younger boy's Summoning, but knew that it was quite a lot. What could he say? He was a protective older brother, but that simply made him feel even worse in this circumstance as there was little that he could do to protect his smaller sibling now.

For as long as he could remember, Caiellis had never had a best friend (or even friends that he was close to), apart from Alexander himself but that didn't count because they were brothers, as the youngest Lucerna was too nervous to interact with other people (especially without his brother or one of his Uncles there to be a buffer for his adorable but sometimes irritating shyness) and did not make friends as easily even if he did begin to start talking to others around his age. Besides, Alexander knew that Cai would have had to find people who didn't discriminate against him because of his Summoning of Orzhova which he had only recently unlocked (though the seventeen year old couldn't say how many days ago as he didn't know how many days it had been since they had brought his brother to this hospital) and that they normally had to leave places too quickly to allow his brother to find a good friend who was willing to interact with him.

Alex had often taken pity on his baby brother and allowed him to tag along with him when he went out with his friends, but a lot of the time that was also forced by their mentors if they had other duties to attend to in the cities and couldn't babysit Caiellis, so Alexander had resented his brother's presence when he had wanted to be with his friends without the squirt joining him with him.

When the civil war finished, the seventeen year old had mostly ignored his younger brother, assuming that his desire to get some privacy and personal space after spending nine years with the kid was mutually felt by the two brothers. He hadn't offered Caiellis the change to come and be with him and his friends, or join in with his training or the lessons that the newly elected Hierarch Tybalt had given to him, assuming that Cai would do what he wanted. Now Alexander wished that he had spent as much time with his younger brother as possible, that he had helped him through the Summoning trial and made his brother know that he could always trust his elder sibling with anything.

Caiellis might not be dying if I had just done that. I wish that I had done so much more for him, been there for him in this time of direst need, but instead I wasn't.

He walked slowly into the reception area which was mostly empty, as while this was the main Ordo Medella hospital in the City of the Sun there were many others scattered across the metropolis in its different districts and areas. There was only the attractive young receptionist at her desk who bowed her head towards him that he might have flirted with in another circumstance, the young woman reading out of a prayer book and silently whispering the words to herself – probably praying for the recovery of the youngest Lucerna if she knew about it, or the success of the soldiers in Welkas and their safe return.

All he was going to do was step outside, breathe in the cold air of the eternal night for a few minutes, and then return to his younger brother the second he met the time limit set by the king. He strode across the room, the area around him blending into one big grey expanse around him that made him feel dizzy and cold inside, intending to do what he had already thought, when his eyes noticed movement across from him and automatically locked onto it.

He saw two boys sat around a table with small meals in front of either of them – the first, who would have been around the same size as Alexander if he was stood up fully, looked around the prince's own age, with dark brown hair and sharp features. The second was sat in a wheelchair, and even though the seventeen year old wasn't exactly examining him in detail he could tell that he was only in the contraption because he must have recovered from an illness recently as there seemed to be no overt damage to his legs that would prevent him from walking apart from weakness and exhaustion.

He was around fourteen years of age, taller and larger than Caiellis but still quite a bit smaller than what Alex assumed was his older brother by the way the older boy was acting around the one in the wheelchair and attached to a wheeled IV pole next to him. He was pale as well, eyes red rimmed and surrounded by black from lack of sleep, with the same colour of hair as his older relative who stopped his gentle jostling of the boy's shoulder and turned around to the eldest prince who was walking through.

"Bro, is that …?" the younger boy asked, Alexander turning his head towards them and staring blankly for a moment, realising that he had stopped moving and had only been looking at them for a few seconds. The older teenager averted his head from Alex's gaze before turning back to his sibling who looked as if he was about to loudly greet the Lucerna prince who he had probably never seen in this close proximity before, answering quietly, "Yeah. It is. But don't say anything. And no, before you ask, I'm not going to push you over there to him so that you can pay your respects to the prince."
"Aww … why not?" the smaller of the two pouted as Alexander forced himself to keep walking, trying to push away the sudden surge of rampant jealously and angry envy that had risen up inside of him which was being quickly replaced by a more keen version of the sense of loss that had ripped a hole in his chest ever since he saw his baby brother in the broken state that he had done. He might not ever get to hear Caiellis whining and complaining ever again. He might not ever be able to see his younger brother's puppy dog eyes that he could barely ever resist levelled in his direction any more. He might not have the opportunity to have normal conversations with Cai if he passed away from the illness and wounds that were afflicting his incredibly frail form right now. There were so many things that he wouldn't be able to do if his brother died on him now, so many things that he wasn't even able to think of most of them, of what he would miss from being with Cai – normal things that he never would have noticed or paid any attention to but was already longing for now that they had been ripped away from him.

He had to get away from these two brothers, because they reminded him of his relationship with Caiellis that was threatening to end more and more each moment the thirteen year old did not improve. He wanted more than anything else to be able to do the same for little Cai, to have to tell his brother that he couldn't do things because he was too weak, to have his sibling rely upon him and need him to get through the pain that he was in. He would give anything to be in the same position as the older of the two Lucaelian teenagers right now, and merely being in the presence of them reminded him of what he might lose should Caiellis not recover within a few days.

"Because," the older boy replied, his voice deeper than that of his younger brother as he clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder, the timbre of his words tinged with a thoughtful resonance as he explained, lowering his voice although Alex still heard him, "Prince Alexander has the exact same look on his face as I did whenever I looked in the mirror over the past few days when you were getting worse."

Alexander wondered if there was a specific look that worrying big brothers had when their younger siblings were in danger, knowing without a doubt that his face would definitely be the manifestation of it, but paid no more attention to the two siblings because it hurt too much as he left the hospital. He opened the door quietly and slipped out, ignoring the freezing cold and adjusting the leather jacket that he was wearing which had been a present from Tristram, Tybalt and Caiellis on his sixteenth birthday and still fit him now to better shield him from the low temperatures of the day. It was snowing, as it had probably been doing a lot recently since it was still the heart of winter, white flecks lit up by the light of the city in the darkness around them whirling to the ground as the harsh wind blew them.

It seemed like there would be some form of blizzard soon, meaning that many of the people would be inside of their homes right now even though it was mid morning, and he breathed in the cool air, watching his puffy exhalations spiral through the cold. It was hardly a rarity for one's breath to be seen within Lucael, as it was cold all year round and did not have as much seasonal variance as the other nations, but today his breath was particularly visible and the temperatures were close to freezing. He stood there for a moment remembering a time when he had once had a competition with Caiellis to see who could blow their breath the furthest, one of the many stupid contests they had taken up that Alexander normally always won by merit of him being older and bigger.

This had been no different. The seventeen year old's melancholic mind was drawn back to the many enjoyable times they had had in the snow when it wasn't too dangerous and cold, the snowball fights that the brothers and their carers had had, recalling when he had let his younger brother bury him in snow in an act of consolation for destroying a snow sculpture (cunningly named "Mr Snowman" by a six year old Cai) that the younger brother had spent a long time building and perfecting. He had to forcefully yank his mind out of the descent into reminiscence because he knew that once he let himself fall into the happiness of the past it would be a long time before he could escape and be able to face the dire present once again.

Alexander turned around, something next to the hospital and attached to it catching his eye, and on a whim he walked towards it, feeling around in his pocket for the money that he usually kept in there – as he thought that it was entirely unfair for him to appropriate the goods that he wanted instead of purchasing them even if he could with his Lucerna influence and prestigious heritage. He didn't want to have to communicate with people at all, but he couldn't resist entering the small shop that was covered from the snow which would be for the relatives of young children being seen to at the Ordo Medella hospital.

It was a place to buy teddy bears for the youngsters who were going through surgery to help them through this hard time, most likely lovingly created by the owner of the small business, as even though the Lucaelians were a hardy and practical people who wouldn't usually indulge their children with too much privilege soft toys were an exception to that rule. He knew that Caiellis was way too old for this type of thing now (even if he was only thirteen which was still young), and would object to Alexander buying one for him, but the middle Lucerna couldn't resist purchasing something cute and cuddly for his younger brother to help him through this time.

The woman who ran the shop smiled at him as he entered, bowing her head reverently, though Alexander couldn't tell if she was wondering whether or not she was wondering why the prince had entered her shop or not. He didn't know how much of what had happened to Caiellis was being told to the people, it it was at all, because he knew for certain that the entire truth would not get out as the idea that a Lucerna could be taken over by a mental invader was considered to be preposterous and should stay that way so that the people were not worried – as a denizen of the reviled nether taking control of the king of Lucael was an awful prospect that could have easily caused the death of thousands of soldiers and pushed the Kingdom of Light to its knees.

He assumed that the fact that Caiellis had utterly annihilated an Archdemon, one of the greatest threats to the Kingdom of Light and the source of the New Empire of Passion's corruption, on his own would be publicised, as well as the fact that he had been heavily wounded in the battle and that was why he wasn't appearing any more and why the king and the eldest prince were keeping to themselves, which would also rouse the Lucaelian warriors into a righteous anger at what had happened to one of their beloved royal family, especially the precious youngest of them who was still a child, but that would be it. The fact that Marik had turned on Cai should be kept hidden, as well as the reality that the Archdemon hadn't killed the youngest Lucerna but he had attempted to commit suicide instead.

Alexander didn't think that Cai was at all cowardly, disgraceful or dishonourable for what he had done, he only felt sorry for his younger brother because of what Caiellis must have been feeling to want to end his own life and felt guilty as he hadn't been able to stop him from going through with it, but others in the kingdom could perceive his attempted suicide as that and Cai didn't deserve the embarrassment or shame that would be heaped upon him by others less sensitive than those who would sympathise with him either.

Alexander scanned the rows of carefully created bears and other animals inside the warm shop, a Lucaelian wisp dancing around a fireplace and ensuring that the heat spread to the extremities of the building, giving it a warm, cosy and homely feeling that the seventeen year old wished he could have indulged in more. Even though the woman who was currently manning the desk of buying was only his senior by a few years, the place still made him think of his grandparents' house in Scientia Mos which he and his brother had stayed at semi regularly throughout the war due to the fact that it was somewhere safe and familiar that they both enjoyed being in.

He wondered which one would suit his little brother the best, casting his mind back to when Caiellis had actually possessed teddy bears which they had been able to take with them in the civil war. He remembered that the youngest Lucerna had had many in the past, but they had been immolated in the fire that had consumed their (well, his, as the eight year old Alex had moved mostly into his own room but had still slept in the same one as his little brother for that fateful night) nursery, but Cai had been able to fit one into Tristram's pack that the man had allowed the boy to take with him out of the collection that he had at his grandparents' abode.

It had been of a white rabbit, a rare creature within Lucael due to the fact that only those with magical properties gifted to them by White mana could survive within the darkness of the wilds, and little Cai had often clutched his affectionately named Fluffy-Bunny (often shortened to just Bunny) when he was scared or wanted to go to sleep on those nights that he slept in his own bed. They had lost the soft toy at some point during the civil war when they had been forced to run without taking any of their supplies or clothes (past the ones that they were already wearing) with them, which had understandably made the five year old Caiellis quite sad, but after that he had forgotten about his want of soft toys, declaring that he was now too old for them and that they were just slowing them down anyway.

He had decided that because Alexander, Uncle Tybalt and Tristram couldn't have any then he wouldn't either as it was unfair to his young mind, which was a kind thing to do and had made Alex smile even then. He dragged himself out from his memories, refusing to wallow in them once again because the happy times were tainted by what had happened to his baby brother, and located one of the adorable teddy bunnies that was of a similar style to the one that Rosa Noctis had personally made Caiellis. He took it to the counter, the woman at it smiling at him and bowing, aware that he would have definitely flirted with her if such things hadn't lost all meaning without his brother to tell him that it was rude and squeal in disgust in an exaggerated manner that made him seem younger.

"Is this for your little brother, Prince Caiellis?" she asked, respectfully, and Alex nodded, not really sure if she knew the extent of what had happened to Cai or not – or how much she would be able to tell from how he appeared. She smiled cheerfully at him, probably trying to make him feel better himself, which didn't work and Alexander was in no mood for communicating with human beings other than those that belonged to his family at the current moment. Her voice was soft and slightly joyful, though not in an obtrusive or annoying way that would make Alex resent it more than he already was doing because of the fact that any enthusiasm or sympathy that was being shown towards him was beginning to incense him a large amount, though that irritation couldn't get past the barrier of coldness and hopelessness surrounding him and preventing him from showing any emotions to anyone but his little brother – and even then he still felt like he was lying to Cai.

She continued, talking to him and obviously noticing the distress that he was trying hard to conceal, "It is certainly a cute one. I personally think that it quite suits Lord Caiellis, though I wouldn't go about telling anyone that. It should help him in his recovery, blessed be his soul. Buying him this is a very nice thing to do, my lord."

The seventeen year old was tired of conversation now. All he wanted to do was buy the item and get out of here so that he could be by his younger brother once again. He didn't want this sympathy from her, because he could already feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes even though she wasn't saying anything overtly bad that should cause this amount of sadness that he felt. It only reminded him how bad his sibling's condition was, and he hated the fact that despite the shopkeeper only being a few years his senior she was treating him like a young child who couldn't deal with his emotions. He had already read the modest price tag on it, and made to pay for the item before she stopped him with a kind, "No, no. Don't bother. You can just have it for free."

"N-no," Alex protested quietly, stuttering slightly, not wanting to feel like he was robbing the young woman or manipulating her desire to provide comfort for the distraught prince into her giving him the soft toy for free. He was already regretting this course of action now, wondering why he hadn't just stayed within the confines of the outside of the hospital, but he did know for certain that he wanted the teddy for his younger brother because anything that he could do to help was something that he would do to help. She smiled back charmingly at him again, replying, "No, really. I'm not going to accept your money for this. I know what you and your blessed younger brother did in Usnaan, how you fought like heroes and how Lord Caiellis was wounded in the act of slaying an Archdemon. You have to understand that me giving you this is just my way of thanking you for what the Lucernas have done for us over the years. So please, just take the rabbit and my blessing and don't try and pay for it. I don't do this job for the money anyway, I do it because it is a useful pastime whilst I train to be a healer of the Ordo Medella. I do it because it makes me feel warm inside knowing that I'm helping children through what might by the most painful moments of your short life. You and Prince Caiells risked your lives for all of us at such a young age, and I want to repay that debt in any way I can."
Alexander stayed silent, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly and wondering how bad he looked if he was evoking that sort of reaction from her. He supposed that he should just accept the gift as what it was, and slowly placed his money back into the pocket of his leather jacket which had been washed and cleaned of the blood and grime of the battlefield at his father's insistence and taken away from him. He took the soft teddy, nodding his head in thanks and trudging across the snow back to the nearby hospital, the act of kindness touching him slightly – but not enough to make him feel anything other than sorrow.

.*.*.*.

Marik sat at the side of his youngest son, watching him breathe through the oxygen mask and knowing just from honing in on that and shutting out everything else that the small puffs of breaths were becoming steadily weaker. He watched his son like he had done so many times over the past few hours, slowly sinking further into his own sadness but refusing to begin submerging in his own sense of steadily mounting defeat.

He remembered what the ethereal girl had told him the day before, that he should be making an effort to communicate with his youngest son and ensure that he knew he was wanted in the world by not just his older brother but his father, who had initially spurned and rejected him, as well. Marik wished that he had the easy familiarity with Caiellis that his eldest son did which apparently extended to when one of them was in deep unconsciousness. He was well aware that Alexander's talks with his younger brother were as much about the seventeen year old persuading himself that they would survive this strife that had ripped through them as it concerned aiding his little brother and coaxing him out of his deathly slumber, but that didn't make them any less genuine.

He had tried to speak several times over Alexander's absence after sending the boy outside when he had assured himself that he wouldn't have another breakdown and be consumed by the waves of grief that endlessly crashed against the dams of determination within the boy's mind, but each time he had fallen silent and simply stared at the boy instead, contemplating just how he had managed to fail so much and how he had possessed such a lack of foresight in dealing with the youngest Lucerna, he and Emili's precious baby boy that they had fought hard for.

He had lost touch with his youngest son over the civil war, and never regained it or Caiellis's trust even though he had been going about the right way before making the mistake of sending him to the Scholaria Magnus – which was indeed a fantastic opportunity, but Caiellis would have benefited from staying in Lucael and being taught by his father instead. He couldn't even communicate with the thirteen year old without starting some form of argument or causing Caiellis to become locked within self loathing, and right now he had no idea as to what to say to the sleeping teenager.

Alexander found it easy to just open his mouth and speak to his younger brother, but when Marik was alone with his son his mind refused to work and make him say the words that he desperately needed to impart onto his child. Caiellis needed to know that the right decision to make within his head was staying here with his father and brother, but apart from occasionally making contact with the boy the king of Lucael hadn't proved at all why his youngest should stay for his sake. There seemed to be a cold void between them that had been rife with resentment and anger but was now deadly silent, and Marik couldn't find the words that would allow him to forge a path through the greyness and extend a hand to his youngest son.

All those years ago, when his beloved wife had been still alive, whilst Caiellis had somehow known that his daddy had a very important duty that made it so that he didn't see the man as his mummy or big brother, he had still come to his father with some of his worries and concerns and had always had a place within Marik's arms, snuggled up next to his chest with the man utterly smitten by his youngest son. And Marik would have responded to that, looking after and talking to his little son, dealing with his problems in any way that he knew how. Caiellis had adored his father. He had sought his approval even though he had only been four or younger at the time, and laughed happily whenever he got it. He had come for him for comfort and love, and he had received it.

But in essence, things could have almost been the same if Marik hadn't made the first mistake in a series of them when censuring the youth for his lack of success in Summoning. Even though Caiellis had naturally become more reserved about his emotions and less affable to displays of open affection due to his age and greater maturity at being thirteen, he had nonetheless strived for his father's acceptance and blessing, but instead he had been met with scorn, condescension and disapproval from a man who had forgotten what he loved most in the world and thought that the only thing for him now was to rule the Kingdom of Light, that his heirs were merely princes, extensions of his will that he could employ in battle and the ruling of the nation if he was unavailable, instead of his sons that he could love and teach and who were the last and most important remnants of Emili's legacy that she had left the world.

He had forced it to get to the point that Caiellis had shown him insolence and disrespect because he had come to terms with the fact that he would never see his father's pride in him, which had been right but so horribly wrong in the same instance, and instead of curbing that he had fuelled the fires of obstinacy and sadness that he made the boy believe it was truly him trying to kill him and telling him that he should have left him to die.

He loved Caiellis, desperately, but he had pushed that down under his desire to punish the boy for his defiance instead of finding out the rationale behind it, and he hadn't been able to show it – he couldn't show it now, in spite of being well aware that his son needed to hear his voice to want to come back into the world. The father who would have hugged and comforted his little boys had been buried deep within the harsh and authoritarian king who regimented and disciplined his young teenagers and had no time or patience for their personal concerns – especially not Caiellis's. He had managed to dig the part of himself out that allowed him to show affection to Alexander, but the one that was for Caiellis was trapped within catacombs of disappointment and coldness that it needed to rise out of now.

Caiellis had been too intimidated to ever ask him for help, with his Summoning trial or anything. He hadn't trusted the man enough to tell him his plans to enter the rotting heart of Usnaan on his own and deal with the source of the threat by himself, and had valued himself so little because of his father that he hadn't cared about the insane risk to his own well being that he was putting himself under. He hadn't seen Marik's love for him at all, so he had believed fully that his dad had wanted to kill him and end his life there and then. He had struggled, all alone, first against his dad that he almost died against and then the might of an Archdemon that he had only defeated through the sheer emotional release that would be contributing in preventing his mana from regenerating now.

He had cried and sobbed with no one to help him, no one to tell him that Marik had been controlled and wrong about him, no one to tell him how much he was loved and valued and how many lives would be scarred forever without him, and he had ended his own life thinking that his own father hated him and didn't class him as his son, blamed him for his mother's death and the peril that his cherished older brother and the entire Lucaelian force comprising of millions of legionnaires was in.

And now Caiellis was dying in a hospital bed, giving out at a much slower speed than before but slowly drifting further and further from them all the same. It was too late to take it all back, too late to change things. Too late to show his youngest son just how much he was loved.

He shifted closer to the bed, reaching for the small hand on his side of it. He might not be able to muster up the words and courage to speak to his youngest son, because he knew that nothing he could say while Caiellis was in this state would help the boy, but he could still make contact with him. He needed to make contact with him, as Caiellis was his son and if he held on to him with all of his might and strength and love the youngest Lucerna might not slip away from them.

Thin, limp fingers were motionless, curling slightly in his grasp as he loosened the restraints a small measure in order to pull his son's hand up closer to him. His large thumb that was calloused from years of gripping the handle of a sword stroked against cold skin that was stretched too tightly over fragile bones.

His son had been somehow getting thinner as he couldn't eat, and though the doctors had inserted a gastric tube straight into his small stomach that would feed him with some nutrients borne from White and Green mana it was no substitute for eating normally. The boy had already been scrawny to begin with due to his bad diet and naturally slender frame, but now that he had lost even more weight he was practically skeletal.

"Caiellis..." Marik choked out.

There was so much that needed to be said.

I'm sorry …

I was wrong …

You did good, no amazingly …

You are my son, and nothing will ever change that ...

I love you.

There were a million words and none of them could get past the blockage that wasn't just a choking lump of tears that he couldn't shed. He hadn't said these things to a conscious Caiellis for years, had somehow imagined that training and discipline would show his youngest son how he felt underneath all of the arguments without the necessity of speech, and now there was no time left to break the habit.

He needed to speak to his son, but he wasn't able to. Caiellis needed to know how much he was loved, but once again his father failed him.

Marik was broken from his sombre reverie when his eldest son entered the room, walking quickly towards his brother's bed and standing on the other side of the youngest Lucerna, something bright and soft in his hands. He was saved from his attempts at trying to force words out of the knot in his throat when the voice of Alexander filled the near silence.

"Hey, little guy. Look what I've got you," the seventeen year old offered. Alex gently set down the cuddly toy on Caiellis's stomach, careful not to dislodge or place pressure on a newly inserted gastric tube that he stared at in horror for a moment. So this was why his father had wanted him out and had imposed a time limit before he could re-enter the operation room – because even more drastic measures were being put in place in order to save the youngest Lucerna's life.

The soft toy that had been given to him as a gift by the young owner of the shop was cute, even Alexander had to admit. It was a bright white and lop eared bunny rabbit around the size of a large carafe, with adorably over sized paws and thick, soft ears that trailed all the way down to its lower abdomen. Marik forced himself to smile as he saw it, glad that Alexander had made productive use of his time outside and had got something that would reaffirm his belief in his younger brother's survival.

Alex grinned sheepishly, his blue eyes full of a hope that he thrust into them with all of his might to the point where it was practically bursting out of his chest, murmuring, "Yeah, I know. You can't wait to wake up and tell me that you are too old for soft teddies, aren't you? Personally I think it suits you."

He gently stroked the silken and fluffy material that made up the teddy, then shuffled the rabbit over Caiellis's thin chest paw by paw until its nose brushed up against the youngest Lucerna's sunken cheek. Marik watched on, tears almost making their way into his eyes at the display of unreserved kindness and love from his eldest son to his youngest, but they didn't because he wasn't sure he knew how to feel any more. The warm glow created by Alexander's love for his younger sibling was soon subsumed by the greyness once again.

As expected, Cai remained eerily silent, and even the beeping of the machines in the background seemed unusually quiet – which was not a good sign. The oxygen mask's constant puffing was also muffled. It was still functioning, filling Alexander's little brother's lungs up with air at every soft and systematic whoosh and click, but the sound was subdued as though it too was now aware of how fragile and tenuous Caiellis's hold upon life had become.

He moved the bunny rabbit round, removing the restraints on Caiellis's only free hand (as Marik was still holding tightly onto the other, his thumb brushing over it periodically) and gently grasping hold of the thin wrist of his brother's right arm. Alex rubbed his finger over the bones jutting through his sibling's wrist, contemplating how it was possible for Cai to get even thinner than he had been already, and placed it on the rabbit so that the youngest Lucerna could get a feel for it himself. He had to keep trying to help his brother, to never give up on him, but as he stared at the younger boy's hand over the stuffed rabbit teddy resting on his chest, soft nose buried in his neck, he couldn't stop himself.

"Angels ..." he breathed, transfixed by the sight of his brother's wrist and slender forearm next to the rabbit. He was quite sure that Caiellis's arms were thinner than those small limbs that the stuffed toy possessed, and it made him feel sick to his stomach as well as reminding him how weak his brother was. He began to breathe faster at the horrible view, hating how fragile and delicate – far more than usual – Cai felt under his grip, and when he shifted his fingers round from the boy's bare wrist to his hand he saw red marks there that had been caused by his own gentle grasp.

"Oh angels … no ..." he gasped out, his vision shimmering and blurring with tears again that he couldn't stop. His brother was so thin, so weak, so fragile next to the toy rabbit that he had got for the younger boy, and he felt like he needed to vomit.

Marik turned around swiftly at the sharp intake of breath from his eldest son, his eyes meeting Alexander's blue orbs that had panic and fear within them. He quickly stood up, letting go of Caiellis's hand and placing his other on Alexander's shoulders, rubbing them gently as the boy's breath hitched in misery again, most likely at the sight of his skeletal brother compared with the teddy that he had chosen for the thirteen year old.

When Alexander stopped after a few minutes, he returned to his seat, returned to holding his youngest son's hand once again, and looked over at the seventeen year old after making sure Caiellis hadn't changed.

Alexander's eyes were burned out sockets, all of the joy that Marik sensed he had forced into them was completely gone, erased utterly from the blue irises. The boy and the young man he had become who shied away from most demonstrations of affection shown towards himself, from showing his true sadness and feelings of sorrow, had always had expressive eyes. Anger, excitement, amusement – they all betrayed him even when his face was impassive apart from in a few circumstances.

Marik had seen a multitude of negative emotions over the past two weeks, from panic, despair, anger, frustration and sheer terror at seeing his baby brother in the state that he had found him after presumably completing his own personal battle within the City of Pleasure and rushing to the centre of the Welkalite capital. But he had also seen loved, fierce and tender, when he sat with his younger brother, comforting, soothing. Holding on against all odds.

Now there was just … nothing. Fury warring with anguished grief and an adamant determination that his younger brother would survive had given way over the long and seamless hours to fear. Marik had hated that, the weakness and terror that he knew that his eldest son didn't want to show now that Caiellis was in a safe location and had the medical attention that he needed but had forced its way out of him nevertheless. But now the fear had faded to blankness.

Alexander had given up. Truly, this time.

He was beyond devastation, beyond anything more than sitting beside his deathly ill brother and holding his thin hand.

"Alexander..." Marik tried. The boy blinked, slowly, languidly, as if surfacing from a deep stupor, and looked at him. And Marik once again didn't know what to say to one of his sons. He wanted to console his eldest son. He wanted to tell him once again that everything would be alright, that Caiellis would pull through and survive this. That this was all a foul nightmare of anguish and despair from which they would all wake up from soon and regain the happiness and light in their lives. But this wasn't a dream. He was losing his baby, and Alexander was losing his little brother, and nothing would ever be close to fine after that.

He swallowed anxiously and looked away, feeling the seventeen year old's gaze upon him but unable to meet it any longer. He had failed them both far too much, too much to ever make reparations for. He would never obtain the absolution from his mistakes that he craved, that rested in the life of his youngest son, and he would never be able to show the love to his sons that he should have given to them the second he met them after the civil war which had dragged his little boys away from him nine years ago and never given Caiellis back. He was damned, condemned to wallow within his guilt and self-loathing because of what he had allowed to happen to his youngest son.

He almost didn't notice the movement at first.

Then the cold, limp, hand in his two larger ones stirred slightly, and his head swung round at the nearly imperceptible twitch. His eyes alighted on his youngest son, who was beginning to breathe more painfully, his young body feebly moving as his face slowly screwed up into an expression of pain. Caiellis's eyes opened, bloodshot and filled to the brim with tears of agony.

"Caiellis!" both Marik and Alexander shouted in unison, the doctors of the Ordo Medella instantly began swarming around the bed like crows to a freshly killed corpse. In Marik's peripheral vision he saw Alexander jerk upright.

The unfocused and blearily emerald gaze that had been staring into space through lids that were half shut – but open nonetheless – slid away from the ceiling, shifting to look at the only other teenage occupant of the room. Marik heard Alexander's breath catch, and a potent mixture of relief, terror and adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"Caiellis..."
Something flickered across the youngest Lucerna's face, the movements slow and numbed by the pain relief substances being pumped through the young system, an expression that Marik could not identify. He knew just from looking into his son's eyes that the boy was barely awake at all, that he had simply slipped from his unconsciousness into a state of quarter awareness and that he wouldn't know what was going on around him. But despite the blurriness and unfocused quality to the thirteen year old's eyes, there was still a clarity to the green orbs which Marik had feared that he would never see again.

"No … Caiellis, please," Alexander pleaded, his voice breaking.

The youngest Lucerna's eyes widened a little, becoming slightly more open, and his gaze drifted sluggishly to the other person holding his second hand for one brief moment. Marik felt something die inside of him at the utter desolation in his son's eyes. It wasn't even fear, nor terror or hatred, just sheer despondency that froze the king to the core.

"Caiellis ..." he choked out once more, tears beginning to blur his vision as the boy's eyes broke off the contact with his father's. Alexander was hyperventilating, the same as Marik, and the doctors around them were formless smears of motion and incoherent noise that the king and his eldest son automatically blocked out, so utterly focussed they were on their youngest family member.

Tears rolled freely down the seventeen year old Lucerna's face as Caiellis's mouth moved, but whatever he tried to say was too quiet, too weak and obscured by the oxygen mask. The unspoken words misted up the glass interior of the mask as his lips moved in a feeble imitation of speech, an attempt to stay something. It was only seconds after he started doing it that Marik realised the movement of his son's mouth was in a silent scream, and his heart broke to see it.

The boy's eyes slid slowly shut once more.

His breath faltered, the oxygen mask unable to keep him breathing when his whole body was giving out.

Then he was still.

.*.*.*.

Marik and Alexander sat in the chairs that they had been slumped within the first time they had brought Caiellis here two days ago. Both of their bodies were taut with stress and desperation, and Marik's large and strong arm was around his eldest son's waist, keeping him pinned to the seat after he had spent the best part of an hour trying to force himself past his dad and run to his little brother's side again.

Several long hours ago he had given up at that, and the howling and screaming had stopped a few minutes proceeding the cessation of the seventeen year old's physical resistance after Alexander had shredded his vocal cords once more, shrieking out his brother's name over and over again. At first the king thought he should have taken his eldest son out of the operating theatre, that he would be distracting the doctors from their vital work of trying to get Caiellis back to life after his heart stopped once again and he stopped breathing, but he couldn't countenance such cruelty knowing that it might be the last time the boy ever saw his younger brother alive.

He wished that he could have stood by Alexander's side and held the unconscious and still Caiellis, but the reality of it was that they would have been in the way. The arm that he had put around his eldest son's waist had been to restrain him, but now it was to offer support and comfort, now it was proof of the fact that Marik couldn't pull away even if he had wanted to. The boy clutched onto the rabbit teddy that he had got for his brother after they had been forced back by the burly orderlies of earlier, them having to shove Marik away this time as well until he gained enough control to get his eldest son to the back of the room where they had been two days before.

Alexander held the soft toy tight like it was a part of his little brother, his hands holding his last connection to Caiellis to his chest as he had shuddered in the grip of wracking sobs which had stopped now. His lower lip was bloody and red from the amount that he had bitten into it, gnawing through the skin in his worry, but Marik hadn't the heart to tell him to stop – even if he had been able to speak past the lump in his throat that had risen up ever since his second son's eyes slid shut once more and he was forced away from the boy after having to see the sadness within his gaze. The tear tracks were stark and evident on his pale cheeks, but he had stopped crying now – though his fear had not dissipated.

It was redolent of the first time then had entered here after the Angel of the Black Sun had taken them from the brutalised mansion courtyard in the City of Pleasure which had been the site of Caiellis's attempted suicide, but instead of there being seizing and thrashing from the youngest Lucerna there had been deathly stillness until the doctors managed to revive him. Marik had seen some interesting things from the usage of mana from the Ordo Medella operatives – not only had golden symbols of power surrounded the thirteen year old, but one of the doctors had fulminated bolts of shining electricity through the boy, presumably to restart his heart and get him breathing once again.

It was tense now, and almost silent apart from the movement and speech of the surgeons working on preserving the youngest Lucerna's life after he had slipped away from them once again. Marik hoped more than anything else that Caiellis wouldn't do something like that again, that his condition could be stabilised to what it would be before, but he knew that he was grasping at straws and that his youngest son had been getting far too weak. He had stopped breathing again a few hours ago.

They thought they had lost him, and might still do. When Caiellis had closed his eyes after trying to speak to them both, after trying to scream in pain or fear, they had thought that it was goodbye, that the thirteen year old wouldn't be able to hold on any longer and that it was time for his life to end, as prematurely as it would have been.

But Caiellis was still fighting after the Red mana had been utilised in an unconventional manner to heal instead of harm, and Marik sensed his older son moving and so looked up, following Alexander's gaze. Surgeon-General Mortan was walking towards them slowly, his visage cautious in a way that suggested to Marik that the news he bore could be interpreted as positive but he didn't want to give away any false hope to the exalted relatives of his patient who had been through so much over the past few days. But Marik could see the sudden optimism that had replaced some of the dire gravity in his venerable eyes; he saw the way that the aged but exceptional man walked just a little straighter, as if portions of an invisible weight had slipped off of his shoulders, and even though he tried to stop it Marik could feel the waves of potential happiness and excitement coursing through him and making his heart pound in his head again.

It was the same type of excitement he had felt the day that he had first confessed his love to Emili, the excitement that he had possessed on the day of his wedding, the excitement of the doctors first announcing that his wife was pregnant and the excitement of seeing both of his brilliant sons being born. It was a dangerous optimism, and Marik tried as much as he could to quell it because things could easily go either way and he did not want Alexander to pick up on it, but he couldn't help but feel better.

"My lords. We have managed to restore Lord Caiellis's condition to breathing status once more. And it seems that he is getting better now that we have done so. I cannot be certain, and I would hesitate to promise you that your son is going to wake up, let alone without any form of brain damage or permanent injury, but his vitals are improving," the doctor informed them, his voice clinically and professionally emotionless and detached, though Marik could see the tiredness in his eyes that was only a mild reflection of the exhaustion within the two Lucernas. "I do not want to give you false hope, as Prince Caiellis's condition is still very grave and could easily deteriorate further, and there is no guarantee that him waking up prematurely and almost dying again hasn't done irrevocable damage to his fragile form, but he is certainly slightly better than what he was before he opened his eyes. He is responding to stimuli, ever so slightly, and his breathing seems stronger than before."

The Surgeon-General did not pull any punches in his assessment of Caiellis's predicament, and for that Marik was immensely grateful. He was going to ask the man a question, but Alexander beat him to it, cutting in with the speed that the seventeen year old was renowned for, "Will he wake up?"
The question was straight and to the point, but there were so many hidden meanings to it. Will my little brother be alright? Will I get to see him again? When will he wake up, if he does? Will he ever be the same? The doctor's brows furrowed slightly in consternation as he considered the question, although it occurred to Marik that Mortan would already know the answer and was thinking of a way to word it that would be suitable for Alexander. Marik shifted his grip on his eldest son, wrapping an arm around his shoulders instead and squeezing tight.

"Forgive me, Lord Alexander, but we are not entirely sure. Your brother's brain signals are getting stronger according to the machines Blue mana we have employed to monitor them, but each patient works by their own time scale. He may not even wake up at all, though I am optimistic that he will do so – especially since he has blessed Lucerna blood," the commander of the doctors responded, the barest hint of pleasure in his voice at this turn of events that he evidently tried hard not to communicate to his patients.

"Can we sit beside him now?" was Alexander's next question, fired in before Marik even got a chance to speak. The Surgeon-General nodded, and replied, "But make sure that you are very careful with him. He is still in a very fragile state that could go either way for him, so I would keep all contact to a minimum. Also try not to get in the way of the other doctors."

Alexander set off, shrugging out of his father's grip and resuming his vigil over his younger brother, a glint of hope in his blue eyes amidst the devastation of what they had witnessed. The doctor said all the words that Marik had been hoping to hear, and he wanted to be excited, but Caiellis was still lying there unconscious and attached to all of the machines plugged into him like he was some sort of Uverian construct from Yentar, and the king just wanted his son – no, his sons – back.

Marik had seen the melancholy in his youngest son's eyes as he brushed with death once more, and knew that he would have a hard time trying to repair that, but he was going to put all of his effort into it. Nothing meant as much to him as having Alexander and Caiellis happy and safe after all that they had gone through, but every time he tried to feel hope he couldn't help the images of his youngest son in all of the pain that he had been and was in flashing through his mind.

.*.*.*.

When Alexander had heard that Caiellis, his little brother, might wake up soon and was getting better, the seventeen year old changed and didn't look back. The fear and worry that had crippled the eldest prince, that had made him seem as young and vulnerable as his age might suggested, vanished almost utterly, though Marik could still see the lines of worry on his son's forehead and the sadness that he had tried hard to dispel from his eyes.

Now he was sat by the youngest Lucerna's bedside with all of the confidence, strength and brotherly love that defined him. There was no if any more, not to Alexander's adamant mind, but instead it was when and the boy was sure to tell everyone that he could – breaking out of his silence of only speaking to his younger brother – that Caiellis would be waking up soon, even if the doctors and other Ordo Medella operatives were well aware of their patient's condition.

Marik could see clearly that his first born son wasn't even trying to listen when Choirmaster Esmelde gently told him that Caiellis might not be the same any more, that he might get worse and could still die, because Alexander refused to let any pessimism get into him.

Marik wasn't exactly sure where his eldest son pulled up all of that strength from, but it left him awe struck as he sat beside his youngest's bed, the restraints reattached to his slender wrists to ensure that he would keep still even if it made him look like some sort of wild animal – or a captured prison about to be subjected to a number of tortures.

The king pushed the analogy out of his head, repressing a gulp when he saw the sight of his youngest son fighting the Archdemon alone once again, without Orzhova this time, and being assaulted by its spiteful Black and Red mana. He didn't miss the flash of emotion in his eldest son's eyes as he gently stroked his little brother's hair once again in the hours of them being sat by here, as day had stretched into early evening and the eternal twilight hadn't lifted, or him tenderly resting his fingers on the boy's neck as if to feel the sluggish pulse for himself and remain assured that his younger brother was still alive.

Marik understood that. He had seen Caiellis's chest fall without a subsequent rise, felt the coldness of the hand in his grip fade and become replaced with the unnatural chill of death. He had seen his youngest son killing himself because he thought that he was worthless and that his father hated him, and he had howled over Caiellis's body until Orzhova pulled him back to the world.

"I wonder when-" Alexander was about to start, before he stopped speaking instantly, and Marik's eyes focussed their gaze upon the face of his youngest son that was beginning to crease up in pain. Adrenaline and excitement flooded through him, and he was sure that his eyes widened in a mixture of joy and fear as the boy's head rolled slowly to the side and the pace of his breathing picked up.

"Caiellis? Caiellis!" Alexander almost yelled in pure, unadulterated happiness, and though Marik longed to tell him not to get his hopes up, that his younger brother might just be shifting in his bed, he couldn't get the words out past the mixture of anticipation and despair that he himself felt. Eyelids fluttered and Caiellis's mouth opened on a whimper, brows twitching in the pain he must have been in even with all of the treatment of the doctors – as it had only been two days since all of the wounds had been inflicted onto his frail young body. "It's ok, Caiellis. It's ok now. Everything is safe. You're safe. Just open your eyes, little brother. I'm here for you."

"Caiellis?" Marik whispered, unable to say anything apart from the name of his youngest son as he felt rays of light beaming down from the heavens inside of his mind, illuminating him in their glow and beginning to repair some of what had been broken inside of him. He knew that this might be premature, that his son might not wake up and that Caiellis could have been rendered a cripple by all that had happened and all of the abuse he had sustained, but he didn't care in the slightest at the current moment and he watched with baited breath as his youngest son let out a tiny mewl of pain.

Marik stared down intently at his youngest son, which happened to be a large mistake, as the second that Caiellis's eyes snapped open as fast as they could with the numbing and mildly sedating substances pouring through his veins and the soothing mana surrounded him that slowed down his functions to ensure that the deterioration of his body would be much more prolonged and give him a larger chance to recover without his wounds worsening at the fast rate they would have done without it the youngest Lucerna reacted with terror.

The panic was immediate, and Caiellis's mouth widened in sheer horror as he stared up at his father with an expression that threatened to pull apart the man's heart again.

"No … no no … please … don't ..." he whimpered and tried struggling to the other half of his bed, the one with his big brother next to it, tugging desperately on the wrist restraints as his eyes widened even more when he came to the conclusion that he was tied down to the bed. Marik instantaneously released his son's too thin hand, standing back away from the operating bed on which Caiellis was trapped, his son beginning to pant beneath the oxygen mask as he began to sob in fear, raising his hands placatingly and adding a soothing note to his voice as he tried, almost whispering: "Caiellis, calm down, son. It's over now; I'm not going to hurt you. Just let me explain, son …"

The thirteen year old, still extremely weak, wouldn't listen. Or perhaps he couldn't listen. The poor youngster was terrified; he began shaking his head frantically, panting and shivering at the presence of the man who had been the cause of him being in this state and the figures crowding around his beg. The hand that was in his older brother's grip tried to wrench itself free, but the effort was weakened by Caiellis's state and wouldn't have been successful even if the youngest Lucerna had been at optimum condition. Alexander kept his little brother's small hand firmly within his own, his blue eyes alight with pity and concern because of the distress present in Cai's green ones. His younger brother was terrified, shaking and thrashing to try and get free, to get away from his father.

He knew that what the horror had forced their dad to do had been bad, but he was coming to the realisation that "bad" was quite evidently a tremendous understatement. At least if he remembers some of what happens we know for certain that his mind isn't completely destroyed, the seventeen year old reflected ruefully, though now was not the time for such things. He shifted closer to his younger brother, giving his father a look that Marik didn't catch, his gaze fixed upon his youngest son in a way that probably frightened the youth even more. He injected a commanding inflection to his otherwise comforting voice, using the authority he knew that he had over his younger brother as the boy trusted him more than anyone else as he commanded, "Caiellis, stop it. You're safe. Dad isn't going to hurt you, trust me. Calm down, little brother, just calm down."

Caiellis's eyes met his older sibling's for a moment, and Alexander would have sworn that he felt something inside of him audibly shattering when he saw that the brief flash of trust and safety in his brother's eyes quickly fading, replaced by more unadulterated fear. The thirteen year old's distressed mind had probably assumed that his older brother didn't know about what had happened between him and their dad, that Alexander was only trying to assuage him because of his reaction and not because he wanted to give his father the chance to explain everything to his youngest son.

He continuously stroked Cai's soft mop of brown hair until the boy gradually reduced the amount that he was struggling, his eyes still fixed upon their father who was being crushed by the guilt inspired by his youngest son's terror, although it was definitely not acceptance that was making him stop his thrashing – though he did not calm down. It was resignation. He knew, rationally, that there was no way he was getting away from this, not in the position that he was in.

Caiellis sniffed something incomprehensible and lost within his sobs of pain, fear and anguish, tears rolling down his young cheeks as he turned his face away from his dad, looking towards Alexander for a moment before he squeezed his eyes shut. The seventeen year old knew without a doubt that if Cai had been able to move his arms and hands he would have wrapped them around his head and cried until the danger and fear left him, but right now he had to resign himself to not even looking at his father and trembling in fear.

"Please … please don't … no … please ..." the boy cried, and Marik had to intervene. He moved round to the other side of the bed as the surgeons watched on, unsure whether they should be intruding on what was quite clearly a private family moment but wanting to perform tests on their young patient now that he was awake – exceeding all of their expectations. He reached out to his youngest son, his voice breaking as he spoke, "Caiellis, I'm not going to harm you, son."

"GET AWAY!" the boy screamed as loud as he could when his eyes opened at the sudden change of direction from his father's deep voice that sounded unusually soft and remorseful, though for what reason the youngest Lucerna could not ascertain because all he could think about was what his dad had said to them as he squeezed the life from his youngest son, what he had shouted in his face and whispered contemptuously in his ear as he strangled him to near death. He was hyperventilating, and he howled between the sobs as the king stumbled back, "GET AWAY!"

The words were spoken with pure terror, screams that were wrenched out of raw vocal cords that hadn't been used for days and somewhat muffled by the oxygen mask around his face that Caiellis would have already taken off if not for the restraints preventing his movements. But the fright, agitation and sorrow in the howling voice was all too real and couldn't be obscured by the mask around the lower regions of his face.

"Everyone, get out! Now!" Alexander shouted over his brother's yelps of utter terror and agony, standing in front of Caiellis's bed like an aegis that would never allow pain to get to the youngest Lucerna – an aegis that had failed if that was the case – and continued as the surgeons automatically followed his commands, "Caiellis, you need to calm down! No one is going to hurt you!"

He turned back to the doctors and his saddened father, the man's dismayed eyes wet with tears that were misting Alexander's own, "Please, just leave. You should leave, if just for a little while. Caiellis isn't himself. He's still out of it from the recovery and probably still thinks he is in Usnaan."

"With all due respect, Prince Alexander," the Surgeon-General began, taking a step forwards, "We need to perform examinations and tests on your younger brother now that he has awoken from his restorative slumber."

"You will be able to. I'm just going to make sure that he knows he is safe, that he knows no one is going to hurt him. I'm the only one that can do this," Alexander replied, a pleading resonance to his voice. He turned back to his father, meeting the man's distraught gaze as his youngest son's screams dissolved into a fit of painful sobs that tore at all of their hearts and made each one of them that hurt want to embrace the young prince in a comforting hug and assure him that everything was alright, "Please, dad. Let me talk to him. I'll explain everything, okay?"

Marik blinked, his ears almost deaf to everything but the noises that his youngest son was making and only barely able to hear Alexander because he was the king's eldest, and nodded slowly, broad shoulders slumped in defeat. He had known that it was going to be hard to get Caiellis to understand what had truly happened, that he hadn't wrapped his hands around his youngest son's fragile throat on two occasions (with one remarkably worse than the other) of his own volition and had never, ever thought the things that the horror of Aksua had spat out of his mouth, not even in his greatest rage and anger in his son.

"Uh … yes, you're right," he sighed, turning to go and follow the doctors who had already left to wait in the room adjacent to this one where the king had explained what had truly happened to his second son to his first, the transparent glass allowing them to assess the state of their patient from there and intercede should anything occur, before spinning back to his older son and adding, "Just make sure he knows that I love him. Please."

"You know I will, dad," Alex responded resolutely, offering up a sad smile to his father. With a last glance at the mournful figure on the bed, Marik Ensis Lucerna left the room. The middle Lucerna sighed heavily, a long exhalation encapsulating his apprehension and sadness as well as relief at having Caiellis back with him, relief that could never be eclipsed. He didn't know how they were going to fix this, how he was going to convince his younger brother to let their father in and let him fix their relationship. Even before the possession, ever since the civil war's cessation and the beginning of their first meeting Marik had been extremely harsh on his second son, chastising him for failing to Summon and driving Cai into a deep depression with his accusations and words.

But they had to try. For Caiellis's sake.

The thirteen year old in question was still whimpering softly, tears sliding unimpeded down his pale and gaunt cheeks with no fingers to brush them away. His lips still soundlessly moved in a pattern of nonononono, of fear of further pain and emotional agony as his brother made his way back to the side of the bed that had been the site of huge amounts of sorrow for him.

"Caiellis, hey … look at me, little dude. Your awesome big brother is here," the boy tried to make his voice confident when instead his mind was filled with anxiousness, and Alexander nervously waited until he had his younger brother's attention. He reached out his hand, slowly, anticipating Cai flinching away and immeasurably glad when his brother didn't, and brushed the tears from his eyes, and though practically it was a pointless endeavour as more soon fell the motions helped to comfort Cai a small amount, which was a victory to his older brother.

Caiellis blinked a few times, most likely attempting to clear his vision of the tears blurring up his eyesight, and looked desperately up at his older brother. The youngest Lucerna was still terrified, knowing that his father who had tried to kill him and professed to have always hated him would still be nearby, but even through all that he felt a slight sense of security that coincided with the awareness that it was only him and his big brother in the room – the room of a hospital. Alexander smiled down at him, though even with all of his emotions in turmoil and his mind unusually slow Cai could sense that the smile was somewhat forced, and tried to move his hands round so that he could grip onto his brother's wrist and erase his tears himself before belatedly remembering that his arms were restrained for some reason.

"I know that you are scared. I know that you are hurt," the seventeen year old began, still systematically brushing away Caiellis's tears whenever they fell and mindful of how wounded his little brother was as any careless action could hurt the boy a significant amount – and he kept his voice as soothing as possibly for his younger sibling, "But you have to listen to me, please. I need you to listen to me, Cai. Can you do that for me? I'm only going to help you, little brother."

The boy bit his lip in response, still shaking with one of his hands in his brother's grip and the side of his head gently being held by Alexander's free hand, and let out a heart wrenching sob as he replied, young tones drowning in anguish, "No no no no … why? Should h-have j-just l-let m-me d-die … w-why couldn't you l-let m-me g-go?"

He broke down in more wretched whimpering as Alex reacted instantly, his own voice close to breaking from all of the emotional pain he was suffering by seeing his younger brother in so much sadness after waiting for so long in constant torment for him to wake up, "No, Caiellis! Listen to me! I'm not going to let you die! You have so much to live for, little man, and nothing justifies what you did to yourself!"

He hadn't meant to shout at his already frightened baby brother, and knew he had made a mistake when Cai recoiled in fear, trying to pull himself away from the bed. Alexander's hand on the back of his head prevented him from shifting backwards on the bed, and he gently grabbed hold of the thirteen year old's chin as the boy was wracked with more painful sobbing, letting go of his hand. The youngster's wide and frightened eyes darted across the room, looking at everywhere but the face of his older brother who he thought was furious with him, unable to turn his face away from Alex despite trying to wrench his head around and break free of his implacable grip.

"You don't k-know … you w-weren't t-there … dad … d-dad …" the younger male tried, but couldn't continue under a fresh flood of tears that made it sound like his entire soul was being pulled out of him, his breath hitching in misery as he cried in front of his older brother. "H-he … he s-said ..."

The words were lost under more sobs that made Alexander's insides ache to the core of his being in sympathy for the sadness of his younger brother, who closed his eyes shut, squeezing them tight as the tears dripped out of them, shaking his head again as if he was trying to escape from the world and the cruel reality of what had happened to him. The seventeen year old gave his brother a gentle shake when it was clear that the waves of tears weren't going to abate on their own, murmuring softly, "Hey, Cai, listen to me. That wasn't dad."

"W-what?" the thirteen year old Lucerna stammered, quietening down, his eyes snapping open again and fixing on the other boy's face, beginning to feel tendrils of hope when he looked into the big brotherly familiarness that had almost always been able to erase his sadness.

Shock was the first thing that the distraught and addled boy felt at the words, and he wasn't sure whether or not he should believe them. Alexander's expression was soft but serious, and he brushed tears from his brother's cheeks as he carried on with his explanation, ignoring the flashes of purple energy from the Black Sun that seemed diminished (though it had not faded almost completely as it had when Alexander had first seen his brother after the battle) by Caiellis's weakness as they did not affect him at all – they were too feeble, "I know what happened to you, Cai. And I know for certain that what you saw wasn't dad – or at least, it was his body, but it wasn't his mind. It wasn't him. He was possessed."

"W-what? S-since w-when?" he stuttered out in between a gasping whimper, a product of the pain shooting through him as well as the sudden surge of emotion from him as his eyes locked onto his brother's face and his ears absorbed every word.

That wasn't …. that wasn't dad? It wasn't dad? What? I don't understand …

"Since after he killed Aksua. The horror that she Summoned, the one that trapped you inside of your own mind, managed to get inside of dad when he wiped the floor with that vampire bitch. A part of it entered his mind, as an Unbound, influencing his decisions and making his anger worse. It took him over completely when he entered your battle with the Lord of Riots, and even though he tried to fight it inside of his head he couldn't get rid of it until you defeated him," the boy explained patiently, watching as his brother's eyes began enormous and welled with even more tears whilst listening to his sibling's recounting of the events.

A mixture of different emotions, many of which he could not identify in his befuddled and narcotised state, surged through the youngest Lucerna, attacking his confused brain and wrapping around his broken heart as he felt the need to cry again. He simply stared in disbelief at his older brother, his mind unusually slow in processing the words that had been spoken to him and the information contained within them as his brother smiled encouragingly at him, even though he could see the pain in Alex's blue eyes that he knew was his fault.

"S-so it wasn't him...?" Caiellis whispered, the noises in the room around him fading away as his lips made the quiet words, barely audible over the puffing of the uncomfortable oxygen mask around his face. He couldn't repress more tears any longer, and let them trickle down his cheeks again, until the trickle became a flood and his brother let go of his chin, moving his other hand round so that the thumb on it could also be used to aid in comforting the youngest Lucerna. Alex nodded, replying, "No, it wasn't. None of what you saw when you were fighting the Archdemon was dad, and all of what was before that was manipulated by that bastard of a horror that managed to get inside of his head and twist his thoughts."

Caiellis gasped in a mixture of pain and anguish at the words, the fateful implications of an agent of the inner darkness invading the mind of a Lucerna king too terrible to consider but rushing through his mind nonetheless, and as one of his big brother's hands made its way down to his right one he squeezed it with such a force that it threatened to cut off Alexander's circulation and would have ground the bones together if Cai had been stronger.

So if it wasn't dad … if none of what he said was true … if … if …. then …

He cried, letting the misery pour off him in waves when it suddenly hit him that what he had thought might not be the case, that maybe his dad did love him and maybe he had wanted his youngest son, maybe he didn't want Caiellis dead, maybe he hadn't tried to choke him to death because he wanted him to suffer but was being controlled by a creature of the abyss instead. It was all too much to the poor boy whose memories were somewhat scattered but focussed with utter clarity upon all that Marik had done to him, though he wasn't sure whether some of them were the truth or what the nightmares he could barely remember had shown him.

He knew that he had ended his own life because he blamed himself for his mother's death, because he blamed himself for Alexander's injuries and current danger and the peril the entire Lucaelian force was in due to his recklessness and weakness, because he had believed that his father who he had craved love from hated him more than anyone else but perhaps … perhaps he had been wrong.

"Come on, baby brother. I know this is hard on you. Just let it all out. None of that was dad," Alexander muttered to his younger brother, letting go of the boy's head again, and clasping his small hand in both of his as the youngest Lucerna's head was slowly rested back on the bed as he shook in the grip of more wracking sobs. Caiellis tried to quiet himself, but couldn't until a sudden though shoved itself to the front of his mind, and he gazed up at his older brother with fearful eyes. "A-are y-you o-ok, A-Alex? A-are the soldiers?"

The older male gave his younger brother a patented smile, amazed out how kind Caiellis was in that despite the fact that he was the one in the bed who had almost died, he was still concerned about other people and how they were – but then his younger brother didn't value himself at all, obviously. In a shaky voice, Cai added, "I-I s-saw you … I saw you being hurt … I saw you being strangled … D-dad said you were being hurt because of me..."

One of Alexander's hands automatically went to his throat, rubbing the bruises that were there which made talking and swallowing relatively painful (though nowhere near as bad as it had been on the day of the battle), but they were nothing compared to the awful black and purple marks on his younger brother's neck, the worst ones concealed by the bandage around the cut on his throat which had been inflicted by Cai's own hand.

"I'm fine, Caiellis. Yeah, I did fight the Master of Violence, but I didn't get hurt too badly. Not compared to you. And the rest of the army is also well enough," he said, not wanting to inform his brother about the awful scale of the casualties even though he himself didn't know if what had happened to the legionaries around him was indicative of the state of the rest of the battle for Usnaan which had been effectively ended by his brother's bravery. The thirteen year old did not need that on his conscious as well, not in the condition he was in. But obviously Cai did not feel as reassured as Alex had hoped as he tightened his grip further and stared up at Alexander with wide, fearful eyes.

"Caiellis it's ok-" he began, instantly attempting to placate any sadness that might have started to form again within his younger brother who still hadn't quite processed the fact that his arguments with his father and the man's horrible opinion of him might not have been what it seemed.

"No it's not!" the boy suddenly yelled out, the words still tinged with gigantic amounts of despair, "It's not ok! Nothing is ok! Stop saying that it is!"

Caiellis was beginning to panic again, all of this information too much for his distraught mind to handle and comprehend, and Alexander tried to verbally reach out for him before he started screaming again, "Cai-"

"It's not ok! If I had known … if I had known I could have stopped him making the decisions that he did in the war! I could have helped him!" the youngest Lucerna shuddered and gulped, beginning to shout in his fear again, back arching off of the bed, his arms tugging at the restraints now digging into his wrists as he thrashed once more, "If I had just been a better Lucerna in the first place, n-none of this would have happened!"

"Caiellis! Stop it! You are going to hurt yourself!" Alexander hissed at his younger brother, angrily, though the anger was not directed towards Caiellis himself – just his insistence at blaming himself for everything due to his utter lack of self-esteem or any sense of self-worth. He pinned his brother on the bed as gently as he could, holding the boy down in an attempt to stop his frantic struggling. The last thing he wanted to do was aggravate any more of the fragile thirteen year old's wounds, especially not his broken ribs as Alex himself knew how painful they would be, "You couldn't have known, and even if you had it wouldn't have made any difference at all!"

Loosening the restraints a little and still very conscious of his brother's wounds, he lifted his struggling brother and carefully slid behind him on the bed, cautious of moving all of the things attached to the youngest Lucerna as he did so. The older boy's broken ribs complained loudly at the treatment of them, but the seventeen year old could not care less and nothing was going to stop him from assisting his younger sibling in this time of need and comfort – he only hoped that he wasn't hurting Caiellis at all.

"You d-don't get it!" Cai half snarled, half cried as he wriggled in his older brother's arms, coughing painfully for a moment as every word sent shudders of pure agony through his broken form and painful throat, hitching the occasional syllable as he protested and squirmed, "I did research on that type of h-horror a-after I f-failed to h-help you! I s-saw the w-warning signs ... If I had just used the Lens of Guilt around dad … I-I w-would h-have b-been a-able t-to exorcise it from h-him … w-what i-if i-it l-led the s-soldiers t-to t-their d-deaths … w-what if it t-tried t-to h-harm y-you? You w-were a-already h-hurt because of m-me … y-you wouldn't h-have been able to de … to defend yourself..."

"Well it didn't, and you need to spot blaming yourself for what happened to me because of Aksua," the older boy told his distressed brother, finally managing to hold him still enough, his arms carefully around Cai's waist and crossed over his stomach, avoiding the tube in it feeding the boy's wasted frame some nutrition that the thirteen year old luckily had not noticed yet otherwise he would have been dismayed at that as well.

"If you had tried anything," Alexander had to smother a small gulp of fear, though he had already been through the greatest terror of his young life seeing his brother unbreathing and almost dead with his heart no longer beating until Orzhova somehow managed to breathe life into his brother's broken body, "It would have made dad kill you, Cai. You are damn lucky to be alive now as it is with the amount that you have gone through ..."

Caiellis slumped in defeat, mournfully acceding to his brother's point and acquiescing to his desire for him to stop struggling against him. He sank back against Alex, who accomodated the movement by adjusting his arms slightly, still grateful to all of the powers out there that he had his younger brother back and a chance to speak to him and make right all that went wrong, had another chance to protect the younger boy from the cruelty of the world that Cai had been forced to experience first hand. Sobbing quietly, he murmured, "You c-call this lucky?"

The words were joined by a half hearted gesture that involved him straining against his bonds until he remembered them and gave up, slumping back down, though Alexander was sure that his younger brother would have raised his arms in an encompassing motion had he been able. He relaxed his grip slightly now that his sibling was no longer resisting, and rested his chin on his younger brother's scalp.

"You're alive," he stated, well aware how close those two but infinitely powerful words were to being rendered false, and shut his eyes sadly as he tried to get the emotion in his own voice under control, failing miserably to do so when he carried on in his attempts to repair his brother's woes, "When I found you in dad's arms … you weren't breathing … you had very nearly died, Caiellis! And you would have done without Orzhova managing to breathe life back into you! Dad told me … that you killed yourself, Cai! Have you any idea what that did to me? What that did to me and dad, and would have done to Uncle Tristram and Uncle Tybalt if they had found out before Orzhova took us here, to Civitas Sol? Do you have any idea how hard it has been to watch you in a coma for the past two days?"

"I-I'm s-sorry," Caiellis whimpered shamefully, though he was not sorry about ending his own life – he was sorry about the pain that he had put his beloved family members through, especially the pain that he had caused to Alexander. I always end up hurting him … no matter what I do … if I'm alive or dead he always seems to suffer because of me … Alexander was quick to rectify his mistake, consoling his little brother, "No, I'm not angry at you, baby bro. It's just … I don't think you understand how much you are worth, and how much we all care about you."

The youngest Lucerna fell silent, and Alex hummed quietly in frustration. He needed to see Cai's face, to see his expressive green eyes so that he could help him more and be certain of the emotions running through the smaller boy, but right now Caiellis needed the physical contact and comfort more.

"Just promise me one thing," the seventeen year old whispered, anxious for a response from his brother who was now sobbing silently instead of making any noise.

"Wh-what?" the younger boy inquired, still as willing as ever to answer his big brother's questions even in his state where he couldn't go a second without having to suppress a broken, pathetic whimper. He would have been lying if he said that being wrapped up in the arms of his older brother didn't make him feel safer, but he still didn't feel like he wasn't in any form of danger even if his dad had never wanted him dead – though he still had a sinking feeling about that. Caiellis sounded more than a little ashamed, and that made Alex' heart sink. It hadn't been and presently wasn't his intention to make his kid brother's emotions decline even more than they already were.

His brother choosing to end his own life was not cowardly, and it wasn't anything he should have been ashamed of – he only needed to know how much everyone else hated that, how ashamed everyone else was that he had been permitted to become that emotionally distraught.

"Promise me that you won't ever try to do anything like that ever again. Just promise me that if you ever feel like that ever again, you will try and talk to someone, anyone, about it," Alexander tried, still wary of the answer – he was well aware that his younger brother hadn't exactly had the opportunity to have a pleasant and long chat about his emotions with someone else after ending the Lord of Riots, but still, "None of us could have lived with ourselves if you had succeeded, if Orzhova or the Ordo Medella doctors hadn't saved you."

There was a pause as silence descended, the incessant beeping which had been a physical warning as to the increased heart rate of the youngest Lucerna slower than it had been before but still too weak for Alex's liking.

"Dad could have," Caiellis whispered after a moment's delay; Alexander leaned over just enough to see his younger brother's quivering lip underneath the glass of the oxygen mask strapped around his face.

"And that is where you are wrong," Alexander replied with a hint of finality and comforting confidence within his own voice, "Dad does love you, kiddo, more than you could ever imagine. I know that he isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with, but he does love you and the horror inside of him perverted that. You should have seen him over the past two days. The last time I have seen him that heartbroken was just after mum died when I got a glimpse of him then … and even back then it wasn't as bad as this was."

A tiny pause followed, and then, in a small voice, Caiellis asked, "R-really?"

"Really," Alex confirmed with a smile, knowing that his dad had been just as distraught as he had, only the man had had to fight past that to comfort his eldest son and stay strong for both of his children when Alexander had no longer been able to do that and had broken down himself, "Dad blames himself for not being able to fight off Aksua's horror just like you did – and do, even though you should stop. He had to watch him hurting you over and over and over again, and he had to watch you fighting against the Archdemon afterwards and what happened after that."

Caiellis stayed silent, taken aback by this new revelation and perhaps allowing a part of him to hope that maybe things would change now, that his brother's words were the salvation from all of the resentment and pent up anger between father and youngest son that he had craved until he had given up on it and instead longed to escape the man's hatred that apparently wasn't true. He could still visualise his father hurting him, images flashing at the back of his mind where he tried to pull himself away from them, the words snarled at him hissing in his ears, and knew that that would take a long time to recover from … but if it wasn't true …

"It has been crushing him, Cai. He had to watch himself hurting you so much, he had to watch his youngest son killing himself because he thought that his dad hated him with nothing that he could do about it … and that is going to take him a while to work through, little man. I think that he is going to need you to help him with that. You are going to need to help each other, to let him show you the love that he does have for you. Would that be ok?"

A longer pause, during which Alexander held his breath as his brother contemplated the words.

"Uh … yeah … That would be ok, I guess," Cai responded after a brief moment, still unable to fully comprehend what was going on. He could feel his eyelids trying to shut themselves, and it took a monumental effort to keep them open and keep himself aware to the world, but he wasn't going to let himself drift off into sleep now – not when his family needed to see him awake and the doctors needed to perform tests on him. Not whilst there was still unresolved bad blood between him and his father.

The older boy felt his baby brother's head nod slowly and quietly empty his lungs. It had been a crude attempt, asking Caiellis to help their dad out just as the man was intending to help him, knowing that his younger brother was too soft hearted to turn his back now that he knew the truth of what had happened between the eldest and youngest Lucernas, but Alexander was convinced that it would work. Caiellis and Marik working together could only be beneficial to them all, provided the two were honest with each other and learned to accept each other's emotions. He hugged his sibling closer to his chest, muttering, "That's my little brother."

They stayed like that for a little while longer, Caiellis seeking silent reassurance for the anxious trepidation and anguished sorrow within his heart and Alex supplying comfort as best he could. The older boy listened to the sound of his brother's soft breathing, wondering how he could have existed in the short period where Caiellis's lungs hadn't been working and filling his body with life, pondering how he could ever repay the Angel of the Black Sun for the miracle of his little brother's continued life. He gave the younger male a bit more time to process all the information that had been shoved at him, already convinced that his brother didn't have any form of brain damage or injury as he would have been able to tell and was just exhausted, enjoying the mere feeling and relief of being with an awake brother with the sense of how close they had come to losing him at the back of his mind.

"I owe you an apology, Cai. Well, several in fact," Alex murmured softly, seeking to make up for what he had done in allowing Caiellis to get to the state that he was in now. The boy responded, genuinely surprised, "Wh-what for?"

"I shouldn't have let you and dad get as bad as you did. I shouldn't have allowed you to enter the centre of Usnaan all alone and fight Tradax by yourself. I shouldn't have pushed you away after the civil war ended and I should have helped you through your Summoning trial," he responded, taking a moment to wipe the tears from his own eyes. Caiellis simply listened, not blaming his brother for any of these things but willing to let him finish his own confession, feeling the wretched guilt that was inside of his big brother which Alexander had let fester inside of him over the past few days and wanting to help Alex as much as possible – as Alexander had just done for him.

He knew that in the reverse situation, he would have blamed himself for what happened to the older boy, just as he had done when Aksua had almost drained his older brother dry and afflicted him with her maleficent vampiric curses which had nearly killed him, but right now his big brother was completely faultless in what had happened. Alex had been the biggest reason for part of him wanting to stay in the world, and he had been reminded why so much in the past few minutes of him surfacing from the slumber he must have been in. He felt weak, thirsty, and his throat itched like someone had poured Welkalite sand down it, but none of that mattered.

"And most of all, for you anyway – I should have never pretended that I was up to holding Aksua off whilst you tried to Summon," he stated, gently, "It was stupid, dangerous, and set a bad example. It could have got both of us killed simply because I wasn't going to admit that I wasn't strong enough to deal with the vampire alone. I deserved to get as hurt as I did, but I'm so sorry you suffered and got the blame for my ego trip. It wasn't your fault at all, ok? It was nobody's fault but my own."

"Wh-what? O-of c-course i-it was my fault. I mean … I abandoned you … I left you to die because I was too weak to g-get o-out of a pathetic d-dream-" Caiellis instantly protested, but his brother cut over him firmly, "It was never your fault. If it makes you feel any better then it was nobody's fault at all apart from Aksua's, ok?"

Cai's nod wasn't convincing at all, and he sniffled a little, tears gathering at the corners of his wide eyes. He still didn't believe what his brother was saying at all; he knew that Alex was just trying to get him to feel better about himself because he had tried to end his own life like the disgrace to the Lucerna family he was, but replied anyway with a shaky, "O-ok."

"Caiellis?" Alex's voice hardened a little, unwilling to let his baby brother go on drowning in guilt over the Aksua incident which was nothing compared to what had happened to Cai but had been the catalyst for the second, greater stage of his depression.

"Yeah, ok," Caiellis sighed glumly, aware that while his brother might never blame him for it that he would continue to do so – but perhaps he shouldn't let it affect him as much as it had done, and learn from his mistakes instead of crying over them. He added: "I just hope that dad sees it that way."

"I think he will. No, scratch that, I know that he already does. He's been controlled by that same horror, so he knows exactly what it feels like," Alexander reassured his younger brother who was relaxing tiredly against him. Wanting to preserve the moment of brotherly intimacy and love forever was what was in Alexander's mind at the present, however he was well aware that Caiellis was exhausted and his body was very weak so as a result of that he wouldn't be awake for much longer. He was confident that he had done enough for now to help his brother, though would do a lot more, and it was slightly selfish of him to keep Cai to himself if the younger boy was now able to see other people. Only one person could truly hope the youngest Lucerna, and he was stood outside of the room.

Luckily the glass of the waiting room was only transparent one way (as otherwise it could easily distract the doctors or frighten their patients if they saw their relatives crying) so the little boy couldn't see his dad or the surgeons watching him, as otherwise Caiellis would have panicked even more until they left.

"Speaking of which, do you think that you are ready to see him now?" Alexander queried hopefully, though he was fully prepared to stay and not let dad in if his brother didn't want it and wanted to be on his own with Alex. "He's probably already wearing a groove in the floor outside this room."

"S-sure … um … I-I mean yeah. I'll s-see him," the boy answered anxiously, his wrists shifting nervously in their cuffs. He wanted the oxygen mask off, uncomfortable with something around that area, but he knew that it was the only thing keeping him breathing at the current moment as he was far too weak to do it on his own – and if he removed it then he wouldn't be able to stay awake. That was probably what the restraints were for: to ensure that he didn't attempt to take it off in a panic and ruin the efforts of the Ordo Medella to save him. "But … I'd like to talk to him alone ..."

Caiellis sounded quite scared but determined to do it anyway, which made his older brother smile proudly. The younger boy definitely was brave. He replied quickly, infusing his voice with confidence and loved, "Not a problem at all, little dude. I understand. I will be right outside if you need me."

.*.*.*.

Marik looked up when he heard the door closing off the waiting room from the operating table creak open, swinging round from where he had been observing his youngest son intently to gaze into his eldest's eyes. He hopefully stared at his older boy, silently asking the question that he knew would be answered soon, though the seventeen year old's expression was as inscrutable as Marik could make his own.

"Caiellis wants to see you," he said by way of greeting, his face and even his expressive eyes giving away nothing, a rare occurrence indeed, although the king could see the evidence of tears that had been wiped away from Alexander's eyes. Marik sighed in relief, glad beyond quantification that he would be finally able to see his youngest son awake and talk to the boy, and made to move past but was stopped when a firm hand pressed against his chest and held him back – the first time Alexander had done anything like that before. He narrowed his eyes questioningly at the young man, though he had a rather large clue as to why Alexander had prevented him entering.

"Just go easy on him, please dad. He blames himself for, well, everything, and he doesn't need you to make that even worse. I won't let you hurt him any more with your words whether you mean to or not," Alexander told him sternly, his voice a mixture of a pleading beg directed at his dad and a firm declaration that epitomized the amount that the seventeen year old would do to protect his younger brother – accentuated greatly by what they had managed to get through and the horror they had faced. Nevertheless, it still hit Marik badly even if he knew that his eldest didn't mean the words and wasn't thinking that his father was making a mistake – it was only a precautionary tactic. Even so, Marik didn't take it very well, his face creasing up in near defeat and looking terrible in that one moment of weakness before he wrestled control of his emotions.

"I know, Alexander. Do you really think that I am going to go in there and discipline him for his reckless heroics after all that we have gone through?" Marik asked, though the question was clearly rhetorical as he continued without giving his son a chance to respond, "I remember what..." he glanced around at the doctors who had given them a relatively wide berth before lowering his voice slightly so that he would not be overheard, but even if they did hear it for one they were loyal Lucaelians who would not spread dissent and secondly without any context for the words there would be nothing to plant the seeds of doubt within their minds, "What the horror said to him."

He turned back to the boy in the room for a second, looking through the window at an extremely nervous Caiellis that his heart went out to, before returning his attention to Alexander, asking, "I know that you know your younger brother better than anyone else. Do you think that he will ever recover from this?"
It was a hard question, one that Marik wasn't expecting a clear answer for, but he had to ask it anyway even if he regretted making his eldest think rationally about that. The middle Lucerna pursed his lips to cover a smile that might have formed when he answered, "With your help? Eventually, yes. It is going to be hard though."

He watched as a very anxious Marik trudge into the room containing an equally agitated Caiellis, hoping that the words he had spoken would turn out to be the truth and that his father and little brother would begin to bond again so that their family could be made whole once more.

What do you think, mum? Do you think that Cai and dad will be able to make it up to each other? His mind asked, idly wondering if Emili was watching from her place in heaven and concluding that she definitely was, that she would be proud of her family for making it through this tragedy.

It wasn't often that he directed his thoughts so that he was speaking them towards his beloved mother, preferring to think about her instead of to her when he allowed time for introspection upon the past, not wanting to be bogged down by the sadness of days gone by, so added: I'm sorry for not protecting him, mum. I know that is what big brothers are supposed to do, but I failed our youngest family member. I hope you can forgive me, and believe me when I say that I am going to make up for it.

Caiellis gazed up at his father nervously as he entered, nibbling on his bottom lip shyly when the Lucerna patriarch sat down in the seat previously occupied by Alexander which had been vacated after the occurrence a few hours ago where they had thought that the thirteen year old was giving out on them. He had to physically repress the reaction of moving away that his body almost forced him into, his father's face flickering in devastation at the movement for a short moment. He knew that his dad hadn't meant to hurt him … but it didn't stop the terror from rising up inside of him at the thought of being alone with him again – even if that was how it needed to be.

Caiellis's face was covered in the tracks of spilled tears where the oxygen mask wasn't obscuring them somewhat, and the Black Sun on his gaunt cheek shone with a weak purple glow in response to his sorrow – but the fact that it was so diminished to the haunting illumination that Marik had become used to when his youngest son cried and the tears touched his Lucerna birthmark was a stark reminder of how close they had come to losing the youngest member of the royal family.

Neither knew what to say and each was reluctant to begin a conversation, reluctant to speak the wrong words and ruin this pivotal interaction from the beginning, and Caiellis stared at his dad, aching for him to say something. In the end, the responsibility fell to Marik, as he was the father and the older of the two Lucernas. It was just too agonising to watch Caiellis emotionally beating himself up trying to find the right thing to start with. And in any case, Marik felt that he owed it to the poor youngster who had suffered from his father's failure to be the only thing that Caiellis had needed him to be, to provide the only thing that his youngest son had ever wanted from him.

"I was forced to watch most of it," he began, staring his son straight in his wide green eyes that were so reminiscent of Emili's he felt his wife looking out of them as well, though he saw much of himself in Caiellis also. But more than both of what he had inherited from his parents was the personality that the boy developed himself, the lovable and compassionate and innocent thirteen year old who had been trampled into the ground and almost killed looking back in a mixture of fear and hope that made the boy seem even more pure and young, yet incredibly thoughtful despite that. Angels above. Words cannot describe how glad I am that he is still with us. He swallowed, gruffly adding, "It was how it derived more of its sick enjoyment from the situation, forcing me to watch my body hurting you."

Caiellis nodded encouragingly, immeasurably thankful that dad had taken control of the conversation between them and in a good way. He hadn't known what to say otherwise, and it was taking all of his effort and determined self-discipline to retain his composure and not start giving into the parts of his mind that screamed for him to get away whilst he still could. Parts of him couldn't ignore the flashbacks rising up, the feeling of his father's gauntleted fists and booted feet crunching into him and breaking his fragile bones, of metal clad fingers wringing his throat and cutting of his air, of damnations and horrible, horrible words lancing into him with far more force than any of the physical attacks could ever do.

But now that he knew that wasn't his dad, that it was Aksua's horror which had trapped him inside of his mind as well, he could only just push away the images and emotions roiling within him. Marik smiled a little, letting out some of the sheer happiness he felt at his youngest son's survival and his willingness to listen from where it was embroiled with the sadness of the whole situation.

Thank you for giving me this chance, Caiellis. Thank you so, so much.

"I was a spectator, watching you get hurt, but I could feel it as well. I felt your bones snap, your blood warm on my hands, I heard the things that it forced me to say to you … and I couldn't stop it," Marik's vision grew blurry until he blinked a few times, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and brushing away the tears, "Angels know I tried, Caiellis. I promise you, I fought the bastard but it had me locked in so tightly."

"It's ok, dad," Cai whispered, finding himself sympathising with his father for whom it must also have been awful, even if Caiellis wasn't a model son and not as good as Alexander, "I understand. It wasn't your fault. "

"No. It was," Marik insisted, frustrated with himself and beginning to be filled with the self-loathing that along with the worry had defined these past few days, "I should have seen the signs when I found myself wanting to act violently towards you. I should have identified it when I put my hands around your neck the day before the siege of Usnaan and I hadn't even realised it until Tristram entered. I'm so sorry that I wasn't strong enough to stop it, that you got hurt and I couldn't protect you from it, that it was me hurting you … you have to understand, Caiellis, that I would never harm you intentionally. And that I don't blame you for any of this. You're my son, my precious baby boy, and I love you so damn much ..."

Caiellis's eyes widened and filled with tears at the thoughtful words of his father that reached down deep inside of him to a place that he hadn't been sure had existed any more when he chose to end his own life because of what he thought had been the case. It wasn't often – try hardly ever, and pretty much never in the case of the youngest Lucerna – that either brother heard their father saying it out loud now that they had returned to him after the civil war and their mum's death, to the point where Cai had believed that it was no longer the case. He found himself instantly warming to the man now that he had said it, now that it was out in the open and he instinctively knew that his dad wouldn't ever hurt him, and had to repress a wracking sob as he replied, "I l-love y-you too, dad."

He tried to wipe a stray tear that trickled down his cheek and would certainly be the catalyst for more, but his hands were still restrained. Sad eyes stared up at Marik, slender wrists tugging on restraints that they could almost fit out of they had become that thin. "Please?" Caiellis begged in a small voice. "I promise that I won't d-do anything st-stupid," he then added, morosely, "For o-once."
"Aww, Caiellis," Marik didn't hesitate, just unbuckled the restraints and tossed them aside as his youngest son's small hands instantly went to his face, wiping away more tears that refused to stop falling as his exhausted body was afflicted by tired whimpers of sadness and relief. The king of Lucael sat for a moment, awkwardly perched on the edge of the seat next to his youngest son, knowing that he wasn't very good at this father thing and not wanting to make any moves that would upset the boy further. He held out his arms, and when Caiellis had finished brushing away some of the tears enough so that he could see past the distortion of his vision and look at his dad, he nodded.

Very, very carefully and delicately, he sat on the bed containing his second son and gathered the youngster into his arms, Caiellis's fingers clutching the fabric of his dad's shirt as he buried his head in his chest, ignoring the part of him that howled at him to pull away because of what he knew. "You aren't stupid, son. And you are certainly not worthless. You are a great, a fantastic boy with a kind heart and a brilliant mind, and when I woke up after you had killed the Archdemon and the horror had shown me the end of it, when I found you and realised that what it had showed you doing was the truth … I wanted to die."
"Wh-what?" Caiellis asked, his voice still shaky from the crying that just wouldn't stop no matter how hard he tried, all semblance of his self-control dissolved in the wake of these new revelations that had reduced him to all of four years old again. His mind was still confused, the mixture of foreign substances circulating around his body's systems making his thought processes unusually sluggish and lethargic, but he distinctly remembered either his brother (most likely) or his father telling him that the horror which had almost been the bane of the Lucerna family on two consecutive occasions had left when he had subdued the man and trapped him in the cage of his son's crystallised blood.

He leaned back a little so that he could stare up at his father. "What d-do you mean it showed you?"
Marik nodded in response, even though such a question could not be answered solely by that, gently cupping the back of his son's neck and stroking his soft curls, remembering the last time he had held his son like this the last time he had spoken with the youngest Lucerna before the civil war. He spoke quietly, going off of his admittedly lacking fatherly instincts of doing that with the intention of not scaring or upsetting his youngest even more than he already clearly was. "Once you defeated me the horror trapped me in my Mind Realm and allowed me to see out of it, probably extracting pleasure from the thought of me watching you battling an Archdemon alone. So I saw what happened to you after you defeated it and woke up..."
Taking a deep breath and fortifying his resolve, trying not to let the images of his son crying all alone as he slid a knife across his own throat overwhelm him, the king struggled on, "I had hoped more than anything that what it was showing me wasn't true, that it … that it hadn't happened. It told me something else as well. The horror, I mean. It made all of my annoyance at you turn towards anger. I knew it was my fault for what happened to your older brother, not yours, because I shouldn't have let you both get stolen from me in the first place and I should have listened to you more, but instead I blamed and condemned you instead of giving you the proper care and attention that you needed. I should have checked you, Caiellis. I should have made sure that you were ok as well as your brother, but I just shouted at you and laid all of the fault on yourself. And for that I am truly sorry."

Caiellis nodded, and snuffled a little as Marik's hand gently reached out to wipe tears from the boy's cheeks, something that he had seen Alexander do and something that he had done in the past, when he had been more in touch with his fatherly love for his sons. Blinking, Cai stopped himself from recoiling just at the last second, but it was enough to dissuade his dad from doing it so instead the man wrapped the arm around his son's thin waist. The youngest Lucerna swallowed, wanting more than anything to just snuggle up against his dad more and bury his face in his chest in a way that he hadn't been able to do ever since his mother, his father's wife, had met her end, but he had to confirm something first.

"So … it's not true? It was making you l-lie?" the desperate plea quivered in his young and tired voice, and Marik's comforting motions stopped dead for a moment. Incredulity flashed on his face, as well as worry, and both of those emotions were present in his deep, usually gruff voice which was instead suffused with fatherly love. There was hurt there, as well, hurt that his son might still believe what he thought he had already made known what wasn't the truth, "True? What the horror made me say to you? You think … you actually imagine ..."

"I-I did some research on the t-type of horror Aksua h-had," Caiellis explained, one of his hands absently twirling the fabric of his father's shirt as he dropped his gaze, staring at the bed instead of meeting his dad's eyes. The grip around the youngest Lucerna was tight with emotions that Marik couldn't begin to define, but that made it slightly uncomfortable for his thirteen year old son, "In case a-anything l-like that ever happened a-again"

Marik nodded in reply, knowing that with the amount of guilt that had been in his smallest child Caiellis would have wanted to prevent himself from ever being unable to help his big brother because of one of those reviled spawn of the abyss any more. Doing something like that was logical, and it suited Caiellis's way of combating their myriad foes.

"T-turns out that the closest thing I could get to it was an Abyssal Nocturnus. T-they work by invading the mind of t-their target, using their personal thoughts and fears to empower the horrors and control their v-victims," Caiellis mumbled nervously, unwilling to look up at his father, envisioning the man's gaze to be furious or derisive and simultaneously wanting to be out of the man's arms yet craving the comfort and assurance they provided. "W-we w-were always fighting. We b-both g-got s-so m-mad, w-with or without the h-horror. A-and t-they u-use actual thoughts t-to … to..."

He had to fight back a heart wrenching sob of misery, determined to continue, "I know … I-I know that you l-love m-me … y-you j-just said … but what a-about .. wh-what about a-all the other st-stuff …" Caiellis seemed to shrink away from his father as Marik's eyes widened in realisation, excruciating clarity clicking within his skull.

"Caiellis ..." he murmured, softly, wanting to bring his son close again but not willing to cause the youngster any more stress by doing so and forcing him into his father's embrace, though he still held the boy in his arms as the thirteen year old turned his head away, the king staring on helplessly as the words flooded out of the teenager. "I k-know I'm useless … l-liability … I'm s-sorry … d-don't want to be a b-burden … I'll try h-harder … I'm sorry …"

The words disintegrated into miserable sobs, and even though Marik wasn't conscious of moving he found that he had already pulled his youngest son close once again. He almost died. I almost lost one of the two most precious things in the world to me, and he still thinks that I see him as a failure. He still thinks that I blame him for his mother's death, that I see him as a burden to the Lucerna family even if I love him deep down.

Marik was silent long enough that Caiellis raised his eyes timidly. The man stared down in utter disbelief and horror that made the boy hesitate, and his dad soon gasped, "Angels, I'm sorry, Caiellis. Son, I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Caiellis managed, his face crumpling up in sadness.

"For not showing you enough … for not giving you enough confidence in me to know how much of a lie all those things you just said are. For letting things get so bad between us even without the horror manipulating me that you might actually believe that I truly feel like that, that those were truly the thoughts running through my head and that it just plucked them up from my mind as well as saying worse. I know I said things that I shouldn't have when we argued, but ... Caiellis, I would never … I could never ..." the king's voice cracked, and that was enough to have the youngest Lucerna exploding into tears again, all of his emotions too much to deal with after drifting between life and death and having his last memories before this being of him ending his own life due to what had occurred before that.

Marik held him close, his voice somewhere between a growl of anger directed at himself and anyone who had ever tried to hurt his baby boy and a remorseful admission of complete failure, "What that bastard spawn of the abyss made me say … it was lying, Caiellis. It wasn't anywhere near … within a thousand miles of the truth. I can't even … I can't even begin to tell you how wrong it was."

Caiellis's breath caught, and through the oxygen mask his whisper was almost inaudible, "Try..."

"Before Emili … before your mother died … I used to go into your room at night, sometimes when she was already in bed. I would watch you and Alexander sleeping, although more often than not he ended up in your crib as well, or your bed when you moved into one. I would just sit there and watch the two of you cuddled together," Marik began, sucking in a quivering breath, "It was one of the happiest experiences of my life. But I did the same the night before the battle in Usnaan. I saw you sleeping there, with your brother … and I think I realised then that I still had a part of Emili left in both of you."

"You are so like her, Caiellis, in so many ways. She loved her books too, as you might be able to remember. She always liked to talk about what she had been reading to me. When she was pregnant with you, and after you were born, she would always tell me how while Alexander might have been the fighter out of you two, the defender of the people, that you would be her – our – little scholar. But you are your own person as well, my son, your own unique, brilliant and amazing person as well as a heroic and kind prince."

"I know that we haven't see eye to eye on things in these past two weeks of me actually talking to you … we don't always agree on what is as important … but what the horror said about you … it was wrong. The bastard creature was lying," the king spat vehemently, the venom in the words unmistakable. He shifted Caiellis backwards away from him, not because he wasn't enjoying the feeling of having his son curled up to him so tightly, but because he needed to look into the boy's wide green eyes.

"I have never felt, or thought, what that disgusting thing said to you using my lips. Not ever. You are strong, Caiellis, even if you are small and a bit scrawny. And you are intelligent, extremely so for your young age, you are kind and empathetic, and you are brave and selfless. You are an exemplary prince, and don't ever think that I view you as a burden, or a hindrance to myself and the prosecution of my role as king – no matter what I might sometimes say, or what other things forced me to tell you. And while I may occasionally disagree on you about the right way to implement a strategy, or find the tone of voice that you use with me slightly disrespectful, I am so proud of you, and all that you have accomplished even though you are far too young for war. I know that your mother would … would have been proud of you too."

Marik brought round one of his hands, a finger gently tracing one of his son's bruises that weren't covered by any of the bandages or gauze on his face. It brushed lightly on the livid blue/black mark on his son's jaw where Marik had been made to force it shut before he couldn't stop the horror making his body strangle the boy any longer.

Caiellis cried into his father's chest, and the man held him close with an undying grip as he cleared his throat, meaning to carry on, "I can't say that I haven't thought a thousand times about that night, if there was anything that I could have done to save your mother. If I had got there a few seconds earlier, maybe … or … I don't know. But Caiellis, I have never, ever, regretted saving you from the enemies that entered after you dealt with the ones that hurt you and Alexander and murdered Emili."

Caiellis sobbed into his father's shoulder as the man hugged him, his eyes overflowing with tears as his dad's large hand gently stroked the nape of his neck and the tangled curls of brown hair there. "But if I could go back in time … do it all over, have another chance … Caiellis, I wouldn't save her if it meant losing you. Caiellis, I love you, I love you so, so much."

"D-dad..." the trembling whispered was muffled. Thin hands clutched at the back of Marik's shirt, twisted hard in the fabric as Caiellis pressed himself closer, finally able to obtain the love from his dad that he had ached for (without his brother being wounded horribly at the same time) ever since he had been torn away from him in the civil war. "Daddy..."

Marik's brawny arms tightened around his shaking son, and Caiellis went willingly, relaxing in the grip as he buried his face in his father's shirt. Marik turned his head, chin lowered to rest on dark brown hair. They fell silent for a few minutes, the noises of the machines and the sniffling of the youngest Lucerna the only sounds in the otherwise quiet room, just enjoying the moment of closeness that had never happened before since Emili Noctis had been murdered. Marik resisted the urge to rock his youngest son like he had done in the past, unsure Caiellis's ribs would hold up – it was bad enough that he was doing this with him. It was enough to have the boy there with him, alive and healing.

"I'm sorry, dad," Caiellis broke the silence with his quiet and young voice which hadn't yet broken. Marik's reply was instantaneous and coloured with incredulity, "What the hell for, son? You didn't do anything wrong."

Caiellis pulled back again, green eyes full of guilt that had Marik wondering just how much was locked inside of his youngest son, how much self-loathing he was carrying around, because he had already tried to soothe much of it. Instead of irritating him, as it might once have done, the king simply felt even more sorry for his baby boy. Angels above … no wonder he wanted to end his own life …

"I'm s-sorry for t-trying to k-kill myself. It was st-stupid, p-pathetic..." he shuddered, and snorted mirthlessly and quietly, "I'm such a c-coward. You must have been so dis … so disappointed..."

"What?!" Marik demanded in disbelief, staring at his youngest son once again, before tenderly smoothing down his hair behind his ears and brushing it out of his eyes. "Angels, Caiellis. Disappointed? Caiellis, when I found you, I was many things: scared, no, terrified,angry at myself, heartbroken … but never disappointed. You'd just been attacked, thrown across the ground, punched, choked and emotionally ripped to pieces by someone you trusted to never hurt you – even if I didn't have a particularly good record with that. Caiellis … I told you that I wanted you dead! And I tried to make good on that!"

The man shook his head, his eyes welling up again. He needed to repair his son's self-esteem from the wreck that he had turned it into, that was for sure.

"I hate that you tried to take your own life and almost succeeded if it wasn't for Orzhova … but you didn't know that I was possessed. You were carrying too much guilt over Alexander's injuries, guilt that I did nothing to take from you and only made worse. You blamed yourself for your mother's death, for the danger that your brother and the rest of the army was in because of what the horror made me say, and you thought that you were never supposed to have lived in the first place – that you were never loved or wanted by the two people who had created you. Caiellis, just promise me that if you ever feel like that again, then you will talk to me, or to your brother, or to Tybalt or Tristram or any one of the people that care about you – which is a lot of people, everyone in the kingdom in fact. Nothing ever justifies suicide, Caiellis, nothing. I know that you probably don't feel that you can to me or anyone for help, and I know that you couldn't have done it back in Usnaan, but please promise me that you will never do anything like that every again, alright?"

Caiellis nodded, the hint of a smile playing onto his lips when he thought about how similar his father and big brother could sometimes be. To break the quiet and because he was concerned, he murmured, "He was pretty scared, huh? Alexander I mean."

Marik smiled. To say how perceptive and intelligent his youngest son was, sometimes the boy could miss the plainly obvious when it was something to do with how others thought about himself. "Scared doesn't even come close, Caiellis, and you know that. You know how much your big brother loves you. He loves you so much, son, that I don't think he would have lived much longer if your Angel of the Black Sun hadn't pulled you back from the brink of death in time. Neither of us would."

Marik didn't mean that his eldest son wouldn't have survived, because he would have done anything in his power to preserve the life of his last remaining child, but surviving wasn't the same as truly living and Alexander would have lost all semblance of happiness. He had seen what Caiellis's near death had done to his older son, and did not wish for something like that to ever happen again.

Caiellis gulped when that sank in. "You mean...?"
"Yes," his father nodded sadly, looking deep into his son's wide green eyes as they filled with more of the seemingly endless tears from the almost infinite reservoir of sorrow within Caiellis's heart – an ocean of sadness that would dry up and become a gentle stream of happiness if Marik had anything to do about it. "You are the reason he keeps on fighting, why he never gives up."

"Oh angels!" Caiellis cried out in despair, realising what he had almost done. At the time, while he knew how sad Alexander would be when the news got out that his little brother had died in the act of slaying the Archdemon (and had no reason to suspect that Marik's reaction would have been similar,) he somehow hadn't quite realised how much it would tear his big brother apart even though he was well aware of how much the older boy loved him. "He never … I didn't … what … no … I ..."
The boy broke down again, the day too much for him to handle, and sobbed loudly in his father's arms, leaning his head on the man's shoulder and the nape of his neck again.

"Shhh, Caiellis. It isn't your fault," Marik rubbed his back in gentle circles, being careful to avoid the spots that were covered in medical gauze or bandaged as to not cause his youngest son undue pain, "Just let it out, son. Just let it all out. I am here for you. You've done so, so good Caiellis, and me and your brother are so proud of you."
Earlier, a month that seemed like years ago, the man he had been would have assumed Caiellis's tears were a sign of weakness. Now he knew that they were only a sign of strength, as sign of his son getting stronger and facing his emotions, and he was only glad that Caiellis was here to cry at all.

After a few minutes the door opened quietly, Alexander stealthily creeping across the threshold and into the room containing his beloved family – he didn't want to spoil anything of what was going on in here that he had been able to see from the waiting room. He went round to the other side of the bed, facing the back of his younger brother, and met his father's eyes. There was no surprise in those usually austere bright blue eyes, only emotion that might have been fatigue, relief or sadness, a combination of all three or something else that Marik Ensis Lucerna seldom displayed so openly.

Tears, wet and streaming, glistened on Marik's cheeks as he held his youngest son, crying silently but unashamedly out of a mixture of so many strong emotions running through him, and though Alexander was sure that his dad would have wiped them away as soon as possible in any other circumstance right now that would have meant letting go of the tight but gentle hold he had on his youngest son. They looked at each other for a moment, unspoken words filled with happiness and relief passing between them without the need for either to open their mouth.

Then Alexander quietly slid onto the bed on the other side, avoiding all of the leads of medical equipment connected to his junior sibling, reaching out to grip hold of Cai's bony shoulder. He listened to the soft shudder of Caiellis's breathing through the oxygen mask as he lay half asleep in his father's arms, something that he had been frightened and convinced that he might never hear again.

He said nothing, because, right then, nothing needed to be said.

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New Summonings in this chapter:

Guardian Oleic: Iridescent Angel (yes the FTV: Angels art).

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So you managed to get to the end of this juggernaut. That was extremely emotional, and while I do intend for there being more heartbreak scenes soon I promise you that the action will start up again soon. Stay tuned for then, and leave a review if you have anything to say about the current state of the story.