Bellows and the clank of metal mugs echoed across the Plaid castle courtyard which hosted a sizable party of young men. Some were slugging down ale while others were wrestling in the dirt; the rowdier ones were doing both at the same time. At one of the shaded alcoves, Blaine watched their beastly activities; a disdainful frown plastered on his face. The eldest Plaid heir found these types of men irritating, uncouth, and crass idiots. He took a few deep breaths as he stuffed down his annoyance; he had to remember why he was doing this. This was all for Lance. After two months, their father's patience had finally worn away. Tired of his middle child "moping about", father approached Blaine about the issue and planned a get together with Lance's academy friends to lift his spirits. It was Blaine's duty to not only coax Lance out of his room but to bring him back to his duties as a Plaid Prince.

"If Lance continues to behave in such an uncooperative manner, then we'll have to take another... special training trip." Said the King.

Blaine's eyes widen. "Wha- but Dad! That's not fair! I've been trying my best to get him out! Why should I have to-"

The man is silenced by the poisonous glare his father gives him.

"You both are a team. If one of you fails, then you both will reap the consequences."

It had taken a lot of technique but Blaine had succeeded in getting Lance to agree to attend this party. Now, all Blaine had to do was make sure he was having a good time. With one last breath, he entered the courtyard with a fresh charcuterie board full of meats and cheeses.

"Ok, I have another cheese an-"

No sooner as the words left his mouth, the men pounced. Dirt covered hands grabbed at the food with the wildness of children seeing candy. Blaine was trying his best to not scream as he witnessed these boys gobble the carefully made snacks like starving lions and guzzle down the mimosas he mixed. But he would deal with it because it got his brother out of his room. As soon as they saw Lance, his classmates pounced on him immediately. But as Blaine was going around, he couldn't see his brother. He approached a familiar classmate and tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, where did Lance go?"

"Oh, said he had to use the john. Left during the best part of my story too."

Blaine held in a sigh.

Meanwhile in the palace, Lance made his way down the hall trying to breath out the tight grip in his chest. He knew that he promised Blaine he would try to get out. Try to get back into his duties. Blaine even threw him a party and invited all of his old friends as a warm up. He should be happy. He should be grateful that he had done this but the longer he stayed at the party, the more his insides twisted inside him. All his friends could talk about was how many "monsters" they had caught. Retelling either nail-biting encounters where fierce monsters tried to shred the flesh from their bodies. Some had stories of heroic victories where they killed their targets and showed off the trophies that they had sliced from their bodies.

Claws.

Hair.

Teeth.

One guy had a scaly claw he'd taken from a small creature that had been stealing from the butcher.

Lance swallowed hard as he felt his stomach twist painfully. He slowed his pace as his vision began to blur at the edges. He stopped and leaned against the wall as the nausea worsened, his chest stung, and his breathing quickened. Why was he feeling like this? He's used to seeing wounds and hearing about grotesque battle stories from the academy teachers. He used to love them.

But then... why did it all make him so sick?

Why did the gleeful smiles from his classmates as they discussed their victories... make him shudder?

Lance felt his legs trembled and tightly grasped at his knees to keep them standing. He used to love those stories. He always wanted to get cool scars from fighting bad guys. It was something he wanted to do since he was young listening to his father's stories from his war days.

He wanted to be just. Like. Him.

The grip in his lungs tightened like the thought was trying to squeeze the life out of him. His gazed turned up, vision still shaky, he could make out where he was.

Outside the library.

He hadn't been here... ever. In fact, after Frederick... went away, he made a point to not even pass by the room.

This was Frederick's place.

A space that shouldn't be touched because to do that, would erase the only trace of his brother. Father had made quick work in erasing Frederick from every family portrait, cleaned out his room, and even burned the baby portraits. For all intents and purposes, Frederick was erased from the Plaid lineage.

This was all that was left.

That thought made Lance's heart ache anew. His hand pushed at the wooden door; a small creak echoed in the hall. He slipped in and stared at the massive shelves that lined the huge room. The sheer enormity made him feel small and fragile. He never understood Frederick's love for this place. For him, the library was a place of stale air, ear ringing silence, and dull books written by old dudes long dead. In fact, the older man always felt out of place here. Back at school, his grades weren't the best so he was often sent to tutors that wanted to meet in libraries. Then they would drone, sigh and eventually leave thirty minutes early because, as they put it, he was better off counting his lucky stars for gifting him with a rich family and a strong body.

But for now, he just wanted a place to be away from... everyone.

His friends.

His dad.

Blaine.

He walked deeper among the shelves hoping that this place would swallow him up.

Why did everyone want him to forget?

What was wrong with them?

No one was asking anything. No one was questioning the sheer weirdness of the whole situation. Didn't anyone see it? Why were his friends not even asking how he was or... About anything that had happened. Why is everyone acting like nothing is wrong?

His heat freezes as his brother's last words floated up to his conscious mind.

"We're just toys for father to play with."

Lance's chest tightened again, this time the pain made him slump to the floor.

That... was the reason. Their father raised them to be Plaid Princes. Strong, hearty, determined men that would serve their kingdom with undying loyalty and devotion.

Nothing else.

He crafted them to be what everyone wanted them to be. If they needed a kind prince to ease all their concerns with a warm smile and a gentle touch, Blaine was your guy. If they wanted a strong, loyal, yet dense prince that could protect you from any danger, then Lance was for you.

Both of them were made to order.

A toy.

Expendable.

Something that could be thrown away if they found so much as a crack on their facades. Frederick had many cracks. Everyone could see them and look what happened.

He couldn't breathe. The air wasn't coming in and it hurt. His mind roared and rushed like a river in a storm. He was trapped. He knew what they all wanted to ignore. They would tell his father.

He would fix him.

Lance struggled to rise leaning on a wooden panel of the library staircase; he didn't even realize he was there. The little amount of weight caused the panel to fall through. His head snapped over to find a hollow space; after a few seconds he saw the blanket and the small book stack. Curiosity slowly pried open the icy claw in his chest and went inside. The alcove was warm, cozy, and smelled faintly of tea. He looked over to the pile of books and grabbed the one at the top. A quick look told him who used to inhabit this spot.

"Frederick. This is... one of his old story books."

He ran his fingers along the spine feeling all the cracks and wrinkles from the many times the book was opened. He opened it up and flipped through it. A collection of fairy tales. He got to the end and saw that the blank pages at the end had been filled.

Allerleirauh( The princess and the Pervy dad) a revision by Frederick...ugh, no... my name is stupid... I've gotta come up with a pen name. Something cool.

Lance felt a smile come to his face and he read on. The young boy had written Allerleighrauh from the princess's point of view and included that when she ran away she met with a fairy godmother and together exposed her father and ruled happily with the fairy becoming her royal advisor.

...And as punishment for trying to force his daughter to be his wife, the king was banished and sentence to wear burlap underwear soaked with poison ivy oil for the rest of his days.

Lance snorted before bursting into laughter. He remembered that his little brother used to love telling stories; he didn't know he also wrote his own. Lance picked up the next book. This one was about herbs. He cracked it open and saw that Frederick's script littered the empty margins of the pages.

Doc says I might be anemic. Or I have lupus. He comes up with a new diagnosis every time I visit. I don't think he knows what's wrong. Dad says it's in my head but he's never gotten dizzy spells or eye blowing migraines so poo to him. Darn it. I thought I was gonna swear that time and one day I'll do it right in dad's face! Till then, hafta make it a good one.

Lance gave another chuckle. This was a side of his brother he had never seen before. He couldn't even imagine Frederick cursing out their dad.

He was way too timid...

But then his mind drifted to the morning after their visit to the Pastel kingdom. When Frederick told their father, he wasn't going to marry Gwen. Then he thought back to that day in the hallway, and at his birthday party. He had seen it. But why did Frederick never show it? Why did he hide it? A sad whisper answered his question.

His father.

His mind traveled back to when they were younger. Back then, the brothers didn't see each other too often. Lance was lucky enough to be in the same class as Blaine, so they could hang. Frederick, on the other hand, was constantly getting sick so he was normally isolated in his room except for one time.

Family dinners.

The middle brother smiled as he remembered his town headed sibling telling a story that made him laugh so hard, young Lance snorted and blew milk out of his nose.

Then his father got up and pulled Frederick to the side.

After that, Frederick was more timid at the table. Only speaking when asked to. Lance brought the book to his chest. His mind hovering on the faint memory of his lost brother's smile.

His real smile.

And just like that, something clicked in his mind and Lance cried; It wasn't from sorrow or loss but a tender happiness. What he held in his hand; What he was surrounded by, from the books to the worn blanket, was proof of the brother everyone said never existed. And they were right in some way. The brother that he saw every day. That he thought of as frail and dull... Was just an act. In these pages, in this room, Lance knew that this was where Frederick just let himself...

Be.

As Lance sat in the crawl space, smile soaked with snot, he felt closer to his brother then he had been in years.