Emilio grabbed Jeremiah and pushed him down on reflex honed through years of dealing with his volatile mother, putting his body over his little brother's. The bowl clashed against the backrest of the chair and Emilio heard the sound of the bowl shattering. Not a moment later, he felt the hot soup fall onto his back and soak into his clothes.
Thankfully, it wasn't too hot so it didn't hurt much. He quickly straightened and looked Jeremiah over frantically. "Are you alright?" He asked before looking at the servants. "Someone, clean up the broken bowl!"
"Hah!" Anisa laughed. "Your back is burning and you're fretting over him? I suppose it's fitting. You will have to lick his boots once he becomes the Baron!"
Emilio ignored her, too used to her harsh words already. Instead, he made sure that Jeremiah was alright.
"Enough, Anisa!" Edmund growled. “Leave this instant or I shall have you removed.”
Emilio looked up and met his mother’s angry, hateful gaze. He resisted the urge to flinch. He was not the helpless little boy under her thumb anymore, desperately trying to protect the little bundle of fear and joy that had been dropped into his arms.
She scoffed and turned around, storming out of the room.
Jeremiah, who had been clutching his arms tightly until now, slumped. “I’m sorry, brother. You got hurt because of me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hurt. It's just a little warm water.” He gently pulled him away from the table - and the broken shards - as the servants cleaned it up.
"But… but… if I hadn't… hadn't moved the flame… I shouldn't have …."
"Jeremiah," He grabbed the boy by his arms and looked him in the eyes. "Do not ever say that. You should be proud of your achievements. You should be happy to have learned something new.”
‘But-”
“Emilio is right,” their father finally spoke up. Emilio heard heavy footsteps behind him and straightened, turning around to face his father. Edmund reached forward to put a hand on each of their heads. “Both of you should be proud.” He frowned. “This is on me. I did not protect you enough when you needed it the most and your mother just …”
His mother did whatever she wanted, whatever she thought was ‘necessary’ to get what she wanted. Emilio and Jeremiah had to suffer. He tried to protect his little brother as much as he could but it wasn’t enough. Some of his scars would never fade, another reminder of his lack of magic.
“Do not say that, father.” He sighed. “You did protect us.”
“Not enough,” Edmund frowned. “It was too little, too late. Even now, she does not hesitate to raise her hand on the two of you.”
Emilio smiled sadly. “She’s just angry, father. It will be fine. Once Jeremiah grows up and becomes the Baron, we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Edmund’s frown, however, deepened. “Emilio…”
No. No, he did not need that conversation right now. “Father, Jeremiah and I are getting late for our training. We should go now. I have to change too.”
There was a pause before Edmund sighed. “Very well. Go now. We will talk later.”
Emilio nodded and led Jeremiah out of the room. His little brother was uncharacteristically quiet. Like he used to be when he was little, or all the times he’d been hurt by his mother or her servants. Emilio’s heart tightened. Once they were far enough away from the dining room, he knelt in front of the boy.
“Are you okay?”
Jeremiah nodded and looked at him, his brows furrowed with worry. “But you’re not.”
“I’m completely fine,” he reassured and spread his arms. “See?” He smiled. “Go now. You’ll be late for your training and Captain Killian will be angry again. I’ll come after I change.”
The boy opened his mouth but Emilio raised an eyebrow. “Jeremiah,” he dragged the name out in a scolding tone. “Go.” The boy grumbled and kicked the ground but did eventually turn to leave.
Emilio smiled, glad to see that his brother was back to his usual self. He looked and met the eyes of Henry, Jeremiah’s manservant. He didn’t say anything but in his silence was an order to take care of Jeremiah. Henry bowed in answer and then followed Jeremiah.
“Help me change, Ronald,” he said and walked back to his room. “I can only be so late before Captain Killian refuses to accept my excuse.”
It didn’t take him long to change and go to the training field. Jeremiah was already practising then and Emilio was called for a spar by Captain Killian, as she tended to do these days. It ended as it always did, with him on the ground and Captain Killian’s sword shy of reaching his throat.
“You lasted longer this time. Well done.” She grinned at him. She was particularly hard on him, more than she was on Jeremiah. So, Emilio took her words as the huge compliment it was, considering Captain Killian was one of the best warrior mages of her generation.
He stood up. “Thank you.” His eyes drifted to Jeremiah. “How’s he doing?”
“Well enough,” the Captain replied. “You should worry more about yourself. He’s more gifted than you were at that age. And he has magic to protect his body, unlike you.”
Ah. There was the blunt Captain Joyce Killian. Her words were like a sharp knife to his chest, a reminder of everything he could never have. Captain Killian did not care about your feelings. All she cared about was keeping you alive. Her words were harsh, but Emilio knew she was saying them for his benefit. It didn’t mean that they hurt any less.
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He smiled - a dry, sardonic thing. “You are right.”
He had to train his body far more than the average person, which was why, he trained from morning to evening for the past two years, after all his typical education that every noble son and daughter must take ended. Here too, his magicless body hindered him. His body got weak easily, wore out easily; it took longer to strengthen, to recover, longer to build muscle and stamina. During the first few weeks of the intense training, his entire body felt like it was burning inside out. Now, however, he believed he was at a place, where he could at least protect himself in a dangerous situation.
He sighed and raised his sword. “Again.”
The Captain grinned and raised her own sword.
A few hours later, as the sun was setting down on the western horizon, he was walking into the woods that surrounded the mansion in the South, his body aching. He kept walking until he came upon the banyan tree at the very centre of the woods. He sat down on one of the huge protruding roots, leaning his back against it. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body. He had two reprieves when things got rough. The library where he could read quietly and this banyan tree where anyone rarely ever came.
After a moment, he felt something thick and long slithering onto his lap. He opened his eyes and looked down to see one of the many snakes that made the tree their home settling on his lap, staring back at him as it raised its head. He did not tense or scream. Instead, he smiled and gently rubbed its head with two fingers. For some reason, none of the animals in the woods, dangerous or otherwise, would ever hurt him or feel threatened by him. It’s a good thing. He could find some comfort in them.
“Just tired, you know,” he said, even though he knew the snake would not be able to understand him. “Needed a moment away from it all. Mother is being as unreasonable as always. Jeremiah is progressing well….” He sighed. “I’m horrible. He’s my little brother. He brought back hope for this barony. I should not feel jealous of him. I should not feel that it would be better if he did not…” he trailed off, choking back the words, afraid that if he uttered them, they would become real.
He loved his little brother. He practically raised him. He was unbearably happy that Jeremiah was growing up so well. But he couldn’t help the ugly twisting of his heart as he watched the boy grow and slowly but surely achieve everything he could not and would never.
The little snake traveled up his hand and wrapped itself around his neck, before rubbing his cheek comfortingly. He chuckled. Look at him, a snake was more mature than him. He reached up to pet it again. “Thank you,” he said and leaned against the tree to close his eyes again. “I will have to go back soon. There are things to do.” Accounts to manage, parties to plan, and businesses to deal with. His father had started teaching them to him so he could help take care of them until Jeremiah came of age, and help Jeremiah when needed.
He sighed and laid his hand out for the snake to come down before gently guiding it down onto the ground. “I’ll see you guys later,” he said, knowing the others were roaming about as well.
He then walked out of the forest, unaware of the hundreds of eyes on him.
----------------------------------------
He was not particularly excited about his seventeenth birthday. As his mother said, it was nothing but a reminder of the failure that he was. But his father and Jeremiah were insistent, and so were the staff. So a small celebration was planned. Except for the immediate family, there were only the knights, the staff, Jeremiah’s instructors, the family Healer, and his father’s aides. Emilio preferred it this way. He was sure his father would have insisted on a big banquet, had it not been for the fact that Emilio would have been too ashamed to attend it. It was better this way.
“Thank you for coming, everyone,” he said, his eyes roaming over the room. There were some happy faces and some sour ones. Not everyone liked Emilio, the defective first son of the Baron. He noticed that his mother was absent. A mixture of relief and sadness ran through him. He did not know what he expected from that woman anymore.
He gives them a soft smile. “I know this might not be the celebration you all expected. But… it is what I want. My seventeenth birthday is not the momentous occasion it is supposed to be. But it is important to me. And I want to spend it with my family and the people who matter to me. I hope it will be to your liking.”
There was scattered clapping, some more enthusiastic than others. Edmund stepped forward and wrapped an arm around him. It’s a statement. Baron Edmund Florian had not and would never abandon his son.
“My son is always modest. I think we can agree he deserves a celebration more than most.” Not everyone agreed, but Emilion could see Jeremiah frantically nodding his head. It brought a smile to his lips. “We should begin. Head Chef Linda, bring in the cake.”
A middle-aged woman among the kitchen staff nodded and walked out. A moment later, she was rolling in a large five-tiered cake inside. Emilio gasped softly. It looked so beautiful and delicious.
“Chocolate?” He whispered as Linda came close.
She nodded. “Chocolate.”
“With vanilla icing?”
“With vanilla icing.”
“You’re the best, Linda!”
She chuckled as she set the cake in place before bowing to Emilio. “Happy Birthday, Young Master.”
“Thank you, Linda.”
“Blow the candles, blow the candles!” Jeremiah piped up. “Make a wish.”
Emilio smiled fondly at the child and then leaned down towards the candles placed along the lowest tiers. He closed his eyes and blew the candles.
“What did you wish for?” Jeremiah asked from beside him.
Emilio looked at the boy and pressed a finger against his lip. “Secret.”
The boy pouted. Emilio laughed. “Let’s cut the cake. Come on.”
Emilio, his father, and his little brother cut the cake together. Once they fed each other, the cake was cut up and distributed. Edmund left soon after It was an informal celebration so everyone spoke, sang, and danced as they wished, as long as they did not get rowdy. Emilio danced with Linda once and then with Jeremiah. Kaleb, one of the knights who fancied himself a bard tried his hand at singing and quickly found that he was tone-deaf. He continued singing until Captain Killian cuffed him in the head. Emilio laughed with everyone else. It was silly, but it was fun. The day was going far better than he thought it would.
It was when the celebration was dying down that he felt it - his chest constricting, difficulty breathing, and a slowly building headache, along with voices he had never heard before.
“Spirits, finally!
“So loud, these humans.”
“Oh look, the moon overhead.”
“Grasshopper, grasshopper, gotcha!”
“Crick, crick, pick me, pick me!”
Who was talking? No one around him was speaking those nonsensical words. No one would speak such words. There were other similar sounds that made no sense - images, humming, words, all strung together in a loud cacophony that slammed into his skull, again and again and again. It felt like someone was hammering his skull from the inside. He groaned and held his head
“Young Master?” He heard Ronald’s voice, but it was drowned by the noise.
“UGH!” He screamed through gritted teeth as he bent down, hitting his head lightly in an attempt to make it better. It only made it worse.
“Brother!”
Emilio looked up to see his brother staring at him with eyes blown wide with panic.
“Help,” he choked out. “H-hurts.”
The last thing he feels before the hammering cacophony got too much and he sunk into oblivion was a trail of something wet running from his nose down his lips.