The Stepbrother

Part II

The dim room was filled with the scent of a burnt wick. The beeswax candle above the wooden desk was burning low, flickering at every seconds. A slow but steady melody resonated from the music box a few inches away from the candle, covering up the faint sobs that had been incessant for a good couple of hours. There was a soft, constant weeping which rumbled the room every time the music box would pause, but soon it would subside when the music resumed. If the portraits hanging on the wall could only talk, they would have complained about such uproar, for it was unmanly to cry like a child. But they were paintings of the dead, and what did they care about the young man burying his head on his arms and folded knees. His sobs continued - shoulders trembling - and it seemed like he wouldn't stop anytime soon. It was a cold, dark evening in the Teel Manor.

The windows were shut closed, but the scenery outside could be seen clearly. The lawn which used to be green was now pretty in white with its blanket of snow. The low grasses were now buried beneath the cold whiteness that was dark blue under the early evening sky. A few more steps away from the lawn, the street lamps were being lighted one after another by a coachman from the town hall through extending a wooden staff burning whose tip was burning end. His dark tweed coat did not warm his body enough, for as soon as he lit the high post, he went hurrying back to his horse-drawn cab. The stallions moved to the next post and came out the coachman again, illuminating the street lamp. The coachman drove the cab away - this time not stopping - since the job was over. The whole town of Marshey was out of the darkness. All thanks to him.

It was a mid-winter night, and unlike the ordinary winter nights, the small kingdom was celebrating the twenty-third birthday of the prince. Everyone in the kingdom was expected to attend tonight's celebration, giving every resident of the kingdom the right to enter the palace. It was also an opportunity for the young ladies to meet the handsome prince, because it was rumored that he was searching for a potential wife. Basically, the whole kingdom was busy while the time for the gates to open was nearing.

Back in the room where paintings of the dead hung and where the music box played, the door opened and came in a blond lady dressed in a fancy gown. Her ridiculous big dress circling her toes seemed like a parasol placed underneath her skirt. Women's fashion sometimes could be hard to understand, but who cared? Even at times when their clothing fad was odd, nobody really pointed out how unattractive such garments were. It was their so-called fashion. Her stoic blue eyes squinted as she studied the room, and it widened again when she saw the hump on the bed.

"Len," her voice, austere and cold, rang into the room as she paced near his bed. The small candle at the nightstand casted odd shadows across her whole being, emphasizing her straight nose. The look she was giving the man hiding underneath the sheets was too hostile, complementing her stern call. Nevertheless, it failed to summon the young man out of the bed. "Mother asks if you are coming along. Well, you are expected to attend the Prince's party since you are his classmate from a certain fencing class whatsoever. Get out of your bed and get dressed."

She heard him shift on his bed, and soon the thick blankets were pulled down, revealing a blond guy with identical features like hers. His hair, falling past his shoulders, was untidy like a bird's nest. She couldn't see much from where she was because the candle was burning low, despite her nearness to his bed. The shadows covered most of his face, and his intellectual blue eyes were the only things she could make out of his face. There was no need, however, for her to wonder how he looked, because they were identical siblings born from the same womb, at the same time.

"Then pass this message to Mother. I shall not see the prince because I don't feel fine," he scoffed, threatening to fall back on his bed again. "I know that you are after the prince, Rin. What do I care about your and His Majesty's marriage?"

She stomped a foot at his remark, displeased with his utterance. Stooping down so she could face him, so she could let him see her glower, her hand reached out and grabbed his collars. "You are to introduce me to him," said she, raising her voice a little. Her brows furrowed as she watched her twin to pull the sheets over him again, then he turned his back from her.

"He knew you already and I think you are a potential lover for him. I don't want to do anything tonight. I will stay here."

"And what?" her voice was surprisingly loud. There was no logical reason why she should snap at him, but maybe it was because of his stubbornness and overly exercised freedom for he could do whatever he wanted. Rin did not envy that freedom, though. There was something else she hated about her twin brother.

The night was getting colder as the candle threatened to die. The fireplace at the other side of his bed was now just red and dark coals, needing some new chunks of woods to burn. He would burn some woods later and get a new beeswax candle once his sister left him at peace. As seconds passed by the air grew colder-such coldness was biting his face even though he was tucked under his blanket-and he decided that he should burn wood chunks later.

"And what, Len?" she repeated. "You will be spending the night talking to that skivvy? Go ahead. I will tell Mother that you are being friendly with a menial girl, then she should be locked in the stables and die out of cold."

"You can't do that Rin. She is our sister," he closed his eyes and ignored her outburst. When Rin screamed 'no, she is stepsister', he untucked himself from his blanket and glared back at her. His twin's anger towards the said person didn't make sense to him, hence he could do nothing but pity their stepsister, always victimised by his family's pointless rage. "She has done nothing bad so stop telling Mother fraudulent accusations."

"Oh! I can, don't challenge me. I can tell Mother that you are fancying her. You will not see her if you let that hardhead of yours to rule over you," she turned around. "Do as you wish, Len. Do as you wish." That announced the departure of the sour lady from his room. Her heavy footsteps were gone after some seconds, and the door was slammed shut behind her.

Venomous words from a poisonous tongue. Len did not understand what happened to his sister. He wished he could comprehend their abusive treatment to their stepsister; he wished he could protect Miku from his mother and sister. Miku was rightfully the owner of this manor, but when her father died, roles had been reversed. He did not want this. Never.

The silence swallowed this somewhat dark pit, and the coldness began to numb his bare feet. The man rose from his bed and picked up the thumb-tall candle from his nightstand, walking towards the fireplace to throw in chunks of woods to keep it burning. It would be a boring evening, he supposed, for a minute later his mother was expected to come to his room and order him to dress for the ball. Every rule had its own exception, thus his freedom was not absolute when his mother was around.

He had given her his promise, nonetheless. Len knew that Miku was snuggling underneath her ragged and patched blanket, a thin smile was drawn on her face as she slept. He whispered to her yesterday that he should come back for her, and he knew he would be able to...no matter what.

a/n. Why Len is crying here (and why he is acting like that towards Miku)...well, it has a deeper and darker story that sometimes I don't want to think of. I dunno. I think this falls under the twisted cinderella au. a bientôt!