I felt myself a pure part of the abyss / I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.
I would like to say it isn’t true, but I know: my brother has the worst of it.
Everything, I mean. Or almost everything. He is my mother’s firstborn son, and he lives with the terrible knowledge that one day he might be king. Somehow he looks just like both of them, and I don’t think he could ever get away with saying he is not their child. Perhaps the worst things is his ergokinesis, an offshoot of my father’s magic which contains all of its power and none of its nuance. I know that must be a heavy burden to carry. Of course, there is still a part of me that envies him for being magical at all, especially because he is magical the way my father was, and sometimes I worry that that magic—what Aeneas has of it—is the only thing left of him in our world.
Don’t I deserve something of his? To keep for myself?
But then I see my brother like this—on his knees with his head down like he has done something terribly, terribly wrong, when I know his whole being is dedicated to goodness—and whatever jealousy I feel is pushed out by relief, that I don’t have to carry that weight.
He jumps when I call his name. Despite myself, I let out a little laugh. (His focus amazes me. The only thing I can ever get myself so entranced in is watching Sitri braid my mane in the mirror: three over two, one over two, three over one… it is always very early in the morning when she does my hair, and the halo of light around her head is always rose-blush and gold. This scene is the only thing I’ve ever fixated on.)
“Of course I was,” I answer, in a tone of fake hurt, as if I’m offended he would think I was looking for anyone else. Really we don’t spend any more time together than the average pair of siblings—maybe even less, between all the classes and fancy dinners—but we are still twins. I don’t think there’s ever been a time I wasn’t, in some secret way, looking for him.
I giggle again at his tone when he leans in close to me, as if he is a conspirator agreeing the betray his side in battle. “I was thinking we could go to the festival. If you’re not too busy doing… um… whatever thrilling things it is you’re doing.”
Everything, I mean. Or almost everything. He is my mother’s firstborn son, and he lives with the terrible knowledge that one day he might be king. Somehow he looks just like both of them, and I don’t think he could ever get away with saying he is not their child. Perhaps the worst things is his ergokinesis, an offshoot of my father’s magic which contains all of its power and none of its nuance. I know that must be a heavy burden to carry. Of course, there is still a part of me that envies him for being magical at all, especially because he is magical the way my father was, and sometimes I worry that that magic—what Aeneas has of it—is the only thing left of him in our world.
Don’t I deserve something of his? To keep for myself?
But then I see my brother like this—on his knees with his head down like he has done something terribly, terribly wrong, when I know his whole being is dedicated to goodness—and whatever jealousy I feel is pushed out by relief, that I don’t have to carry that weight.
He jumps when I call his name. Despite myself, I let out a little laugh. (His focus amazes me. The only thing I can ever get myself so entranced in is watching Sitri braid my mane in the mirror: three over two, one over two, three over one… it is always very early in the morning when she does my hair, and the halo of light around her head is always rose-blush and gold. This scene is the only thing I’ve ever fixated on.)
“Of course I was,” I answer, in a tone of fake hurt, as if I’m offended he would think I was looking for anyone else. Really we don’t spend any more time together than the average pair of siblings—maybe even less, between all the classes and fancy dinners—but we are still twins. I don’t think there’s ever been a time I wasn’t, in some secret way, looking for him.
I giggle again at his tone when he leans in close to me, as if he is a conspirator agreeing the betray his side in battle. “I was thinking we could go to the festival. If you’re not too busy doing… um… whatever thrilling things it is you’re doing.”
![[Image: hilde_pix_f.gif]](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/456101258424483840/792280247688101918/hilde_pix_f.gif)
