I hardly remember the trip back to the Southern Isles, Anna's words had just echoed in my mind the entire time.
"Betray me and I'll kill you myself."
Just thinking of those words sent a chill down my spine. Was she being serious? Surely she wasn't...or was she? I ponder this question as I enter the gates of the Southern Isles, mounted atop of Sitron, my parents on either side of me only a few paces ahead of me. I dismount Sitron, watching as the servants in charge of the stalls took him to groom. Sometimes I felt that he was treated far better than I.
I hardly try to catch up to my parents, having fallen back from their sides. I didn't even dare step closer, especially not to my mother. My distaste and fear of her is quite clear; if one knew her as I did they would surely see her for the she-wolf she is.
I glance up to them at most, not even feeling their eyes on me for they didn't even speak to me on the nine hour trip back. Of course my father had at least tried to speak to me, but even then he had some difficulty actually convincing me to communicate with him. The man is an oaf and I cannot wait to see his own foolishness and stupidity get him killed.
I glance down at the steps that lead up into the castle, a bitter taste in my mouth. Once I ascend these steps I will be ignored not by just my parents, but all twelve-no, eleven now-of my brothers. No...they wouldn't ignore me. It would be worse. They'd give me one look filled with disdain and then ignore me. It was painful to be acknowledged and then deliberately ignored. They knew I was there, they always were fishing for a reaction, for my pain. I hated it. The look of disinterest and contempt was maddening, even now just thinking of the inevitable made my stomach churn! I wanted to escape, wanted to leave all of this behind! I hated it!
But I couldn't. Not now, not ever.
"Betray me and I'll kill you myself."
Anna's words once again permeated my body. They iced over my frozen heart even more, cracking it and refilling it, making the icy fortress stronger through fear.
It was far too late now. I could not risk the possibility of Anna tracking me down with her ice-cold eyes that outdo my mother's own eyes by far. I did not wish for those disgusting eyes that fueled me with fear and hatred to be the last thing I see before I part from this God forsaken world.
What felt like hours in my mind was mere seconds in reality. The cogs in my brain spinning far faster than any clock could handle, moving faster than I even thought I could handle.
I ascended the steps and entered the prison that I was forced to call home.
I find myself in the vast room that greeted any who dared enter the castle that harbored the Westergaurd family within its walls. A wide staircase is the first thing one sees upon entering, the room itself lavishly decorated with only the finest of paintings and vases atop table surfaces. Only the finest of decor for the royal family.
I frown at the room, having no desire for the decorations nor the room itself. This room was forever a reminder to me that I was in a prison disguised as a castle.
There was really only two haven's for me in this prison: my room and the library. There none would even care to try to contact me. All they understood was that I studied there and did not wish to be disturbed. It was a sort of unspoken rule that developed over the years that I was not to be disturbed when in one of these rooms. But even then nobody even bothered contacting me outside of them, lest they be our servants.
My eyes fall back to the staircase in front of me as I notice a figure descending the stairs.
A man. Tall, short brown hair, glasses...
I immediately recognize the man as my brother, Severin. He and I rarely got along-despite being five years older than I as well as being a child of my father's second marriage-but these days he only greets me with a sour scowl. When we were boys he was the kindest of my twelve brothers, only to start ignoring me as my parents paid less and less attention. He would often call me childish names such as "the extra" or "the spare"-all very poor insults but they still sting even today, albeit faintly.
Severin pauses when he sees me, staring for a few seconds before greeting me with a familiar scowl, and he made his way to the bottom of the stairs. As he walks past me I hear a chuffing sound coming from him. I find myself tempted to reply with a retort but bite my tongue. Over the years I had learned not to raise my voice unless I wish to hear the screeching of my mother. Severin isn't even her actual son yet she wouldn't hesitate to bite my head off.
As I watch him walk away, a scowl formed on my face. It seems I'm slipping back into the routine where none of my family wishes to have anything to do with me. My only escapes now were the library and my room, but now I only wish to rest. Eighteen hours total on sea did nothing but tire me.
They had served us food on the ship already, so dinner was not an issue. With much haste I ascended the staircase despite any exhaustion I felt in my body. The faster I got to my room the sooner I could lay in bed and be engulfed by the dreamless sleep I had grown to enjoy.
Once I reached the floor that my room was on, I found myself slowing my pace. Three men stood in the hall, each of them one of my brothers.
The tallest of the three was Valter, a son from my father's first marriage. He is thirty years of age and already trusted with his own small army. It astounds me that our parents entrusted such responsibility on him. But I suppose they thought he was old enough, and given his skill in strategy I must admit he does seem fit for the job.
Brute.
The second tallest was Ivar, born from my father's second marriage. Recently he had turned twenty-six, only three years older than I. Ivar is quite skilled at hunting, often taking part in hunts with members of the court or visiting royals. His shot with a bow and arrow is impeccable. Just last year he won an archery contest held by a neighboring kingdom.
Show off.
The shortest of them-though still taller than I-was Arvid, born of my mother. He is only a year older than I, yet he has proven himself much more...important. He attends social gatherings quite often. In fact he would have attended the coronation of Arendelle's queen-such a pathetic woman-had he not already been socializing at our late brother's funeral!
Disgusting.
I don't greet them, nor did they greet me-well, Arvid did, but was clearly uninterested in my return home. Even my brother born from my mother hardly wished to have anything to do with me. All he ever bothered to do was give me an off-handed 'Hello' or even just a grunt.
I walk on, not even returning the greeting to Arvid. Nothing they could say could cause me to talk to them-the only time we ever spoke was to keep up appearances. For six years they had ignored me-for two years three had pretended I didn't exist! It's six years too late for any of them to try and bond with me. I will never allow it.
My door is not far from where my brother's stood so I reach it quickly. With a grasp and turn of the handle I open the door. I disappear into my room quickly, locking the door and lean my back against it, my chest aching and head pounding. Hatred consumed me, the iced over hell that was my heart filled with it and pumping it through my veins. I hate this place so much...if only my plan could reach its end.
My eyes wander over to my bed, once again I was reminded of my tiredness. I straighten up and head over, only to stop halfway. I shift my gaze to the bed across from mine, the scowl from earlier reappearing. That bed hasn't been used in over three years yet it still remains. I remember trying to convince my parents to remove it to allow me more workspace but the answer was always the same: No.
That bed once cradled somebody as they slept, one that hasn't lived here in years. How long has it been since I'd last seen Henrick? I suppose it doesn't matter, after all he is the reason that I suffer. How pitiful it is to be the youngest twin. Always viewed as a clone, just somebody that wasn't wanted. I despise my brother for being born first, for stealing everything from me.
Had I been born first I could have been the one married to a beautiful woman from a neighboring kingdom, the ruler of a country. But no, he had to be born first. He had to be 'the original'.
Oh how they all adore him...how I was cast aside and treated like the unwanted child that never should have been. Did God truly mean to have me born? It feels more like a cruel joke he played with each passing day. Nothing was ever in my favor, not until the coronation. Perhaps the devil himself had put Anna on this Earth to pacify me? More likely she was put in this world to toy with me, pick at my brain from the first moment we met. How she consumed my thoughts...I still wish to wring her throat and watch her suffer. I would relish in it. I have killed once, why not kill again?
No. It is too soon for that, I know that.
Slowly, I make my way to the window and gaze down at the kingdom that will never be mine. How I hate it. For twenty-three years I've lived here. Not even the citizens cared for me, I was sure of it. I was just "the twin of Henrick", never once had they made me feel welcome. This country could burn to the ground for all I care, and I would watch it burn. They would cry for me to help them, they would plead for their Prince to save them. The thought of it makes me chuckle.
I move to my desk, tracing a finger along the edge of the wood. A gloved hand moves down and I grasp a handle of one of the drawers, pulling it open. Inside it was empty, at least that's what I wanted people to believe.
I grab a quill pen and hold it feather-end down, pushing the tip of it in the bottom of the drawer. As I do this, the false bottom pops up, revealing the vial that once held the poison that had killed my brother-that I used on him. Oh, how unfortunate that I didn't just poison my entire family. I could have become a king, changed this kingdom however I saw fit. But no...that would never do. This country wasn't worth the risk.
Any thoughts are put to a screeching halt when I hear a knock sound at my door.