Stormbringer: King

F I F T E E N

"Fortunately, the culprit was caught—
it was the spy they had jailed
some years back."

・ ・ ・

It was morning by the time the maids and servants had finished cleaning up the... mess in Liss' bedroom.

Storm stood wearily outside it, a thin blanket draped over his shoulders, holding a mug of hot chocolate. Xenor stood beside him, also holding a mug of hot chocolate and staring into it with a blank expression.

Ash was busy rounding up her soldiers, yelling orders at them as they came and went with a grim face. Rosemary was ushering the remaining maids and servants, who had their hands full of bloody rags and towels, down the hallway, wiping away the remnants of her tears.

Zana had left a few hours before with Liss' body, unable to cease her quiet sobbing and sniffles, muttering, "I failed. I'm a failure." Storm felt terribly sorry for the Head Cleric, and rather guilty, seeing the crumpled state she was in.

Silix, who had been assisting both Ash and Rosemary, approached him. "How are you feeling, Your Highness Storm?" the advisor asked in a gentle tone, placing a hand on Storm's shoulder.

Storm shrugged, dropping his gaze. He felt strangely numb, even with the hot chocolate warming his insides and the blanket over his body. "Numb." The numbness stemmed from within, spreading from an empty coldness in the void left in his chest. "Cold." He shifted. "... Lost."

Silix winced, paused, then reached up and adjusted the blanket over his shoulders tenderly. "I know, Your Highness," the advisor whispered. A melancholic smile. "I know."

There came a soft sipping sound, and the both of them turned to see Xenor drinking his hot chocolate. He finished it quietly, and rubbed his lips.

"What about you, Your Highness Xenor?" Silix asked, moving over to the older prince. "How do you feel?"

Xenor didn't reply. Instead, he rolled his wrists, and stared into his mug once more, unwilling to lift his head.

The advisor pursed his lips, looking worried. "You should never bottle up your feelings, Your Highness," he said, patting Xenor's shoulder. "It will do you no good to keep your emotions to yourself, especially if they're negative ones."

Xenor flinched, his green eyes flickering. His lips parted, but he did not speak. Then he turned away, hunching his shoulders, head low. Storm reached out to his brother, tentatively touching his shoulder.

"Brother...?" he asked softly, tilting his head to peer at his brother's face. Xenor shrugged his hand off and seemed to shrink into himself further. Storm pursed his lips. "Brother, talk to me. Please."

"There is nothing to talk about," his brother muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, his mug dangling from his fingers. "Leave me be."

"But Brother—" Storm protested. Xenor shook his head, and slowly began to walk away. Storm caught his brother's arm, and tried to pull him back. His hot chocolate almost spilled out of his mug at his sudden motion. "Brother, don't walk away. Don't push me away."

Slapping his hand away, Xenor turned back and glowered at him. Storm stiffened, taking a step back at the anger he saw in his brother's eyes. Suppressed rage (taut muscles, clenched fists, nostrils flaring), with hints of an emotion he couldn't quite identify. A whole lot of emotions, in fact.