Seraphic Deviltry

Chapter Two: Blossom

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Lucius

My brother has avoided me for almost two weeks, but when we meet — mostly at meals — he speaks normally to me. It doesn't matter. I can feel his unease, and I often excuse myself earlier than I would have had it not been for him. I wish I could make it up to him. I wish I could prove to him that I still can control myself. But I cannot do anything as long as he will not talk to me seriously. As long as he will not visit me. I would not want to talk about this my failure at dinner.

My father has noticed something is amiss, as well, but I tell him it's nothing. I throw myself into my servitude with more fervour than I have ever before. Everything to keep my mind off my brother. Better to be aroused by my father's touch than by the thought of my brother.

I banish all thought from my mind as I knock on the door to my father's bedroom. And at his reply, I enter.

"Ah, Lucius. Just the one I needed. Come here, to my bed." I go to him, and spend the next hour in blissful nonexistance, forgetting the world outside his arms. Until I have to go I can forget it really exists, forget the problems I have with my brother.

But the time always comes when the pretending is over, and I leave for the real world. Until next time.

________________________________________

Adrian

Woe me. If I hadn't been such a fool, my brother would still enjoy my company. As it is, he looks for every excuse to avoid talking to me more than necessary. Accepthing his decision, I've stopped coming to his rooms so often, although it hurts me not to be close to him. But I don't want to make him uncomfortable, and I don't want to risk giving myself away.

I don't know. Perhaps it is because I keep such tight rein on me that he's uneasy? Perhaps he feels, somehow, how reluctant I am to reveal myself? Perhaps...? But no, it's folly to try to redeem myself with speculations. I simply have to try harder.

Two weeks. Two weeks and a little more since I made a fool of myself. It's enough. I have to find him and apologize. Apologize, and explain. It's the explaining that will be hard. How shall I explain to my angel brother that I feel desire for his body? Will he even understand? He's so innocent. I don't want to be the one to ruin that innocence. I told myself I would protect him against all who would abuse him, even myself. I will not take any action that will dirty him and condemn me.

And so it is that I knock on the door to his room one evening, focused and determined. There's no reply from within. I open the door carefully and look inside. No visible sign of him, not even in his bath.

The library is next, but he's not there, either. Nor is he in the tower, where he sits feeling the birds' freedom, as he says. I knock on my father's study to ask him, but the study is empty. I go back to Lucius' room, but he's not there. Finally, in desperation, I go to my father's quarters. Without knocking, I open the door quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he is there, not wanting to be caught silly if he isn't.

________________________________________


Lucius

Oh gods, please fuck me.

I don't say it aloud. I have no right to beg. All I am allowed to think of is how to please my father. So I content myself with worshipping his body. Right now I'm on my knees before him, going down on him with my hands behind my back. The little click I faintly hear goes unnoticed.

"Stop, Lucius," my father suddenly murmurs.

I release his cock and sit back, 'looking' up at him in adoration. "Yes, Father," I reply, breathing heavily.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

Oh gods. "Yes, Father," I manage, groaning. Oh please, don't tease me. Please tell me you're not just taunting me, Father.

"Then get up and bend over, Lucius."

I quickly obey him, getting to my feet in a mere second before turning my back towards him and leaning forward, putting my hands on my knees. "Please, Father. Please take me." I strain to keep the desire out of my voice, not wanting to appear too needy. It's not my need that's important.

"Lucius, don't!"

I freeze. Adrian. How did he get in here? When did he get in here? Why does he have to see? Then our father speaks. "Don't interfere, Adrian. You have no say in this matter."

"But..."

"Lucius is old enough to make his own decisions, aren't you, Lucius?"

Please don't make me do this in front of my own brother. "Yes, Father. Please fuck me, Father."

A strangled sound comes from my brother. I dare not turn his way. I'm too ashamed of myself. But I can't stop my body's reaction. I need to be taken. It's the only thing that will relieve the ache in my abdomen.

"You see, Adrian?" our father says. "Now either leave, or come here."

Please leave, brother. Please don't witness this. But my brother doesn't listen to my silent pleadings. For a moment he stands still, then I hear his steps come closer. A soft rustling at the floor, and then he comes up to me and wraps his arms around me, raising me up.

"Hush, Angel," he says, voice sweeter than honeyed wine. Then steel enters his voice. "I'll take you to your rooms."

I try to find my voice to argue, try to tell him to leave me, but the words won't come. And thus I simply stand there as he dresses me and then steers me towards the door, hands on my shoulders. Our father doesn't stop us, but as my brother opens the door, he speaks up. "Just remember, Lucius," he says in a silky voice. "Don't touch yourself."

________________________________________


Adrian

My breath catches in my throat as my eyes fall on the scene before me. My brother, on his knees before our father, sucking his...

I try to turn away, but I can't. Then suddenly Father smiles faintly. "Stop, Lucius," he says softly.

Lucius, my angel whom I believed so innocent, straightens, murmuring, "Yes, Father." That makes me clasp my hand to my mouth so as not to scream. I hoped he could at least have been unaware of whom it was.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?" Father says, and I choke. Oh, Lucius, don't. Please don't. Stop this. This has to be a dream. I barely even hear my angel groan his reply. "Then get up and bend over, Lucius," Father continues.

It hurts when Lucius flies to his feet, turns around and leans forward, bracing his hands on his knees. As he speaks, begging our father to take him, I snap. "Lucius, don't!" I plead.

At that, he freezes, like an animal the second before it bolts. But he stays there, unmoving. Our father looks my way, though, and smiles coldly. "Don't interfere, Adrian. You have no say in this matter," he says.

No say? He's my brother for gods' sake. Can't I protect him? "But..." I begin, but he interrupts me.

"Lucius is old enough to make his own decisions," our father says, and then turns towards my brother. "Aren't you, Lucius?"

Lucius doesn't move, but replies, as though... As though it is something that is so deeply ingrained in him that he can't be quiet. "Yes, Father," he says. "Please fuck me, Father."

I quench the scream of despair that threatens to tear itself from my throat. When Father triumphantly tells me to either leave or go to him, I decide on my course of action. I don't care that he's my father. I don't care that he can disinherit me. All I can think of is that I've sworn to defend my brother from those who would abuse him. If this is not abuse...?

I slowly move closer, barely pausing as I bend over to pick up the dark robes I recognize as my brother's. Then I gently put my arms around him and help him rise. "Hush, Angel," I murmur, before glancing up at our father and continuing, firmly, "I'll take you to your rooms." And Father won't stop us, I think, but I don't say it. I slip the robe onto his unresisting body, and then gently lead him towards the door. When I touch it, our father speaks up.

"Just remember, Lucius," he says. "Don't touch yourself."

At that, a keening sound erupts from Lucius lips, and he brings one hand up and buries his face in it. I don't stop until we are safe in his quarters.

________________________________________


Adrian

"Shh, don't worry," I tell him as I put him on his bed. "Don't worry, Angel. You're safe now. I won't let him touch you again." The reaction is not as I've expected. I don't know exactly what I've expected, but he turns away from me, and hugs his knees close to his chest, and again gives off that keening sound. It scares me.

"What is it?" I ask, but I get no reply. "Angel..." I beg. "Don't turn away from me." Can't you see how much I love you? I'll never let anyone touch you again. "Just tell me what you want."

For a long time he's silent, and I'm just about to open my mouth to beg him again, when he speaks up. "What I want?" he asks, voice slightly bitter. "You ask me what I want after having taken me away from my release?"

I start up, cold, and look at him closely. He's red — with embarrassment? — and his eyes are open, staring unseeing towards the wall. "What- What do you mean?" I manage.

He suddenly relaxes, and when he speaks, his voice is... empty. "It doesn't matter. Just go. Leave me, please."

Leave him? Like this? Is it because he really wants to be alone, or is it because he thinks I won't understand? I guess on the last one. "You're right," I say, ignoring his shudder. "I don't understand. But I would like to learn how to. You see, when I..."

"Don't, Brother. Do one thing for me, and then we can talk. If not, you can go."

"What?" I wonder, determined to do whatever he wants.

As a reply, he turns on his back and opens his robes. When he does, I can see that his... his organ... is still hard, leaking fluid. "Give me release," he says tonelessly, as if he expects me to balk. I almost do, although perhaps not from reasons he thinks. If I touch him, wi hav have broken the promise I made to protect him? But he wants me to.

With that thought firmly in mind, I reach out, but stop. If I'm to bring him off, I might as well do it in a way that to me won't feel like degrading him.

________________________________________


Lucius

As we enter my rooms, Adrian lifts me up and carries me. Disoriented, lost in his touch, the next time I know exactly where I am is when I am laid down on my bed. It's with great strain I do not reach for him when he releases me.

"Ssh, don't worry," he tells me, misunderstanding my distress. "Don't worry, Angel." Don't call me that. I'm no angel. "You're safe now."

Safe. The word drills through me, laughing at me. I might be safe from my father, but at what cost? The need is burning through me, and I'm not allowed to bring myself off. My training is to deeply ingrained. It doesn't matter whether my father is here or not. He will know, and then he'll punish me. Adrian can't protect me forever. I turn from him and curl up in a foetal position to stop myself from disobeying my father's command.

"What is it?" my brother asks. What it is? Oh gods, he really is innocent if he cannot understand how much it hurts to be like this on the brink of pleasure, and when I don't have to be. If Adrian hadn't brought me here, I might even have pleased my father enough for him to allow me release.

"Angel..." he pleads. "Don't turn away from me. Just tell me what you want?"

What I want? Does he really know? But no, he doesn't, of course. And him being here doesn't help, either. How can I ignore my burning body when the perfect object of desire is standing next to me? "What I want?" I ask him bitterly, in an attempt to drive him away. "You ask me what I want after having taken me away from my release?" I feel the heat in my cheeks, but ignore it. My eyes are dry. I wish I could cry, but I won't with him here.

"What- What do you mean?" he stammers.

It's no use, I think dejectedly. "It doesn't matter," I tell him tonelessly. "Just go. Leave me, please." Please let me compose myself in peace. You'd never understand, anyway.

He's silent for a long time, but then he speaks. "You're right," he says, and I can't control the shudder of despair. Of course I am right. Does he have to remind me? "I don't understand," he continues. "But I would like to learn to." Would he? "You see, when I..." I interrupt him.

"Don't, Brother. Do one thing for me, and then we can talk." He will never agree, and so I won't have to talk about it.

"What?" he asks, and I close my eyes in case he sees them open and can see my thoughts behind them. Then I turn on my back and open my robe. I long to touch my aching cock, but I can't. "Give me release," I tell him, locking my feelings away. He won't. I know that it disgusts him to know his little angel isn't so angelic as he's always thought. I know he'll leave. I don't even listen for his retreating footsteps; I'm already hearing them in my mind.

When he touches me, it comes as a surprise. So he decided to jack me off. He sure must want to talk desperately. But his touch is unsure, delicate. Only two fingers straighten my cock from my belly. I'm just about to scream at him to leave me alone, that he can't help me like that, when the warm wetness of his mouth envelops me. I choke on my words, and my eyes fly open.

I've often given people blowjobs, but I've never been on the receiving end. I try to let the pleasure last, but the sensations, and the knowledge that it's my beloved brother doing it to me, quickly brings me to the edge and over it. He's not as good as I am, but it doesn't matter. As I feel myself coming, I try to push him away, but he ignores my struggles.

________________________________________


Adrian

He tries to push me away, but I don't heed him. I won't let him have second thoughts about this. If he's begged me to give him pleasure, I will, no matter if he changes his mind or not. I owe him that. He owes me that.

As the thin, slightly bitter liquid hits the back of my mouth, I start, but then I only take him deeper, needing this one and only taste of my brother. Greedily I swallow every last drop, and then I gently lick the rest from his sparsely haired groin, knowing how sensitive I am after coming.

I raise myself on my elbows and look at him. He's beautiful, even more so than usual. His head is thrown back, and his breath comes in short gasps. His eyes are wide open, and as I see the tears gathering in his eyes I feel a sting of regret. I haven't hurt him, have I?

"Angel?" I ask hesitantly. At the sound of my voice he stiffens, and a moan escapes his lips as he attempts to turn away. "No, brother," I beg, stopping him with a hand on his hip. "Don't turn from me. Tell me what's wrong."

For a moment he lies still, not saying anything, but then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "What's wrong? Rather ask me what is not wrong. You know. You saw." He turns his head away. "I'm no angel."

So that's what it is. He believes I should loathe him for what our father has done. "Ssh, Angel," I tell him. "To me you'll always be an angel. Surely you don't think I blame you?"

He suddenly sits up and snaps his head in my direction. His eyes, though sightless, are flashing, and his hair is in disarray. Marvellous. "Who else is to blame?" he snaps. "Are you so innocent so as to believe I had no part in it? Do you really believe I do not go to him of my own volition?"

It hurts to see him so upset. Through the pain in my heart I speak calmly. "How long?" I simply ask.

He slumps back onto the bed. His face turns into a perfect facade of stillness, and his voice is without emotion as he speaks. "Five years," is all he says.

My knees fail me, and I fall down to the floor, an empty hole in my belly. Five years. As we are seventeen now, that would make him twelve then. Twelve.

"I told you I'm no angel, brother," his voice reaches me. "I would have preferred if you had never found out. Better keep your innocence for as long as possible."

Against my will, I begin to laugh, tears springing from my eyes. Keep my innocence. How ironic. Here I was trying to defend his innocence, and he was doing the same to me. As I feel him stiffen under my hand which still rests lightly on him, I make an attempt to sober up.

"I'm sorry, Angel," I say then. "I wasn't laughing at you, but rather at me. What do you think I've been attempting to do all these years?" The invisible hand holding my guts in an iron grasp twists, turning my belly upside down. I continue in a whisper, "I'm sorry I didn't know where to look." The tears that earlier only hung on to my eyes now spill over and run in currents down my cheeks. My nose clogs up, and I sniffle, trying to clear it at least partially while not upsetting Lucius too much.

A hand reaches out and caresses my cheek, wiping away tears. "I don't blame you, Adrian." His voice is soft again, apologetic. That single touch is too much. I collapse over his chest, shedding the tears I've been unable to shed since Mother died. I cry for him, for me, for the innocence Father has destroyed. Lucius hand rests in my hair, caressing my head and shoulders. Not condemning, not belittling. Just calming.

Finally my tears subside, and I draw a deep breath, inhaling the scent of my brother. "I'll kill him," I whisper into his belly. He stiffens, but says nothing. I relent, and look up at him. "I would, were he not our father. As it is, I will not let you be alone with him for a moment."

"But..." he begins, but I lay a finger on his lips.

"No, Angel. Enough is enough. He might have had his way while I didn't know, but not any more."

He twists his head away. "I said it before: What makes you think I didn't go voluntarily?" But his voice is not as certain as it was before.

"And did you do so when you were twelve?"

________________________________________


Lucius

"And did you so when you were twelve?" his soft voice asks, as if begging me to disagree. And I remember.

I remember the terror I felt as I realized why Father had summoned me late one evening. I remember the nausea I felt as he touched me. I remember the disgust I felt with myself for not being able to stop him. I remember the humiliation of having to come back, again and again. To protect my brother. A sob tears itself from my throat. "No," I admit. "I didn't."

His hand softly strokes my chest, soothing me. "See?" he asks me. "You had no choice then, did you? The only choice you had was to submit, and get used to it, am I not right?"

"Yes," I gasp, unable to stop the tears that now trickle down my temples. How can he know so much? How can he stay, and not turn away from me? "But it doesn't matter now, brother," I tell him, in another effort to drive him away. I don't deserve such warmth as he gives me. "Don't you see? I need him."

For a few moments he is still. The hand on my chest trembles slightly. Then he speaks, and his voice is tight with emotion. "Is it him you need, or is it only the sexual relief?"

I open my mouth, but at first nothing comes out. I've grown so used to my father's touch. I know exactly what to do to please him, and I know what makes him angry with me. He is easier to be with than all the strangers he brings me. But is it really him I need? "I..." I begin.

"Do you love him?"

Love him? "No!" I snarl. How could I ever love him?

He relaxes noticably, and his hand goes up to wipe the tears from the sides of my head. "Good," he mumbles, more a sigh of... relief? than anything else. "Do you want to take a bath?" he suddenly says, changing the subject.

"What?" I stammer, caught by surprise.

"Do you want to take a bath?" he repeats. As I nod my acquesience in baffled surprise, he straightens, puts his arms underneath me, and then I fly into the air. I wrap my arms around his neck to balance myself, and notice a faint tremor go through him. And then I'm carried in his arms into the bathroom, where he places me near the edge of the water. Carefully, almost reverently, he takes the robe off my shoulders, and I hear it flutter off to land somewhere behind me. "There you go, Angel," he says softly.

"Thanks," I mumble, and edge forward. As soon as I feel the floor drop and water lap my toes I know where I am, and can move more confidently. When I'm in to my waist I feel the water pushing up at my back, and I realize Adrian has come in behind me. I freeze, and turn my head towards where I now hear him. "I hadn't thought you'd join me," I say casually, not wanting to show him how off guard he's caught me.

He chuckles quietly. "I thought I'd help you, Angel."

Oh fuck. Here I had thought I'd have at least a few minutes to calm myself down. "I'm fine, brother," I tell him hurriedly, and continue forward to prove it.

"I'm sure you are, but I want to, Angel. Please?"

My breath catches in my throat. How will I ever be able to tell him no when he asks like that? "Fine," I whisper hoarsly, and then stop to clear my throat. "I guess I have no choice." I smile towards him to take the edge off my words.

________________________________________


Adrian

I smile sadly at his attempt at a joke. Even now, when I would have been trembling in a corner, he keeps an appearance of calm around himself. "No, you don't," I reply, smiling, before closing the distance between us.

I gently push him towards the ledge at one end of the pool, tears springing to my eyes at his absolute trust as he lets me back him up. For a moment he stumbles when the back of his thighs touch the stone, but then he finds himself again and sits down.

"Adrian..." he begins, but I silence him with a finger to his lips.

"Hush, brother. You just sit there. Let me take care of you." I touch his shoulder reassuringly before making my way to the different bottles lined up at the edge of the pool. "Which scent would you prefer?" I ask him, lifting bottle after bottle and reading the labels. I'm sure he knows them all by touch, but I don't.

For a moment he's silent. Then he shrugs. "It doesn't really matter. Take whatever you want."

I secretly wonder whether all his decisiveness in clothing and scent have merely been orders from our father, causing him to feel uncomfortable with choosing for himself, or whether he simply doesn't care at the moment.

As I pick up a bottle at random and return, my mind wanders back to the night when we began disagreeing. I suddenly recall with stunning clarity his hurry in getting dressed and away. Away to entertain our father's guests. Entertain... Realization strikes me as hard as any gut punch.

"I'll kill him," I whisper, my new-found tears again threatening to spill. How dare our father lend Angel away to strangers, as though he was a common whore? "I'll fucking..."

A finger on my lips makes me look up, into my brother's calm face. When he's sure he's got my attention, he shakes his head. "Please, Adrian." He takes my hand and backs towards the ledge, pulling me with him. "What brought that on?"

With shaking hands, I place the bottle with cherry scented lotion on the floor. "Never mind," I tell him, but he won't accept that. Finally, I give up. "I came to think of that night over two weeks ago, when... Father's 'guests'..." I fall silent, unable to voice my thoughts.

"Oh," he replies silently. I can see he's shaken, but only half a second later he smiles up in my direction. It hurts to see how well he hides his emotions. "Don't worry, Adrian. It wasn't that hard." He shifts slightly where he sits.

"I take it that it's happened before." My voice is cold, and as I see how he starts, I regret my tone. It mustn't be easy to tell it's not him I'm angry with.

________________________________________


Lucius

His voice is cold, and I know he's displeased and angry. I don't know whether it's at me or at our father, though. I look down into the water, attempting to hide my face from his scrutinizing eyes. "Yes." I take a deep breath and force myself to continue. "Father prides himself on being able to give his business associates the best service available. And I am the best." At his sharp intake of breath I look up at him and smile. "Don't worry, I said. It's not as if I know their names. And most of the time they don't know he's my father."

That was a mistake. He turns, water sploshing. His breathing is heavy. The silence grows longer, and I fidget slightly. When he finally speaks again, it is clear he holds himself back. "You mean to tell me," he asks in clipped tones, "that some of them actually knew that he was handing out his own son?"

I've never quite thought of it that way. Perhaps I have simply suppressed any thoughts of it. But now it comes back. All those times when they would tell me in condescending tones just what they thought of a boy who was so debased he worked as a whore for his own father. Because it was obvious, they told me, that I didn't do it for the money. I already got all that I wanted.

"...Angel? Angel!"

My brother's voice suddenly penetrates the scornful laughter in my head. His hands are on my shoulders, and he shakes me. Unable to hold myself back, all thoughts of dignity banished from my mind as I throw myself into his arms and let go of all tears.

I cry for a long time, while Adrian holds me, stroking my back, murmuring words I can barely hear. When my tears dry up, I remain in his arms, unwilling to leave the warm sense of security his embrace gives me.

"Better?" he asks softly, and I nod reluctantly. "I'm sorry I brought it up, Angel."

I force a smile to my lips. "Don't worry, Adrian. I'm fine now." So as not to force him to make the first move, I straighten. "Wash me?" I ask, smiling.

He helps me gently, and speaks no more of the problems we both know wait outside the room. I hope he won't enforce his wish that I never see my father in private again. That combined with my father's command that I not touch myself would drive me insane. As much as I hate to admit it, I have come to depend on my father for sexual relief. I guess I'm addicted to it.

Adrian dries me and leads me out into my bedroom. He sits me down on my bed and then kneels down in front of me, keeping his hands on my knees. I reach out to stroke his hair, but misjudge the distance.

"Ow," Adrian complains, releasing one of my knees, probably to stroke his own face. "You don't have to poke out my eyes."

"Sorry," I smile. More carefully this time, I again reach out. "It's enough with one of us blind." I trail my fingers through his hair.

"And here I thought you wanted company." I can hear the grin on his face.

Enjoying the easy wordplay, I stretch out, grinning. "I do, but if none of us can see, how would I then be able to spellbind you with my dazzling beauty?"

For a moment he's silent. I can hardly hear him breathing. "That could cause a problem, yes," he says then, but somehow he isn't as humoured as he was before.

As I realize why, I curse my insensitivity. Of course he's upset about me flaunting myself that way. It'd be impossible for him not to be reminded of what I've been doing the past years without his knowledge. "Sorry, Brother," I mumble, chastened. "I didn't mean it that way."

"It's alright. It has nothing to do with you," he assures me quickly, and half of me can't help but wonder what it has to do with, then. "Do you want me tay tay the night?" he asks then, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

I smile weakly. "No. It's alright," I tell him. I need to regain my strength, and I cannot do that with him nearby.

A short silence. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then, Angel." He straightens. "Oh, and Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I meant it. He will not touch you again."

I bite my tongue so as not to make a sound. He hadn't forgotten. I nod to show I've understood, and keep my thoughts to myself. If I'm not allowed to touch myself by orders from our father, and not allowed to see my father by orders from my brother, then how will I manage to survive? The desire coursing through me is a drug, and I need more regularly. I might hate it, but that will not change the fact that I do need it.

"Good night, Angel. If you need anything, I'll be in my rooms."

Is it just my imagination, or did I hear a slight stress on the word 'anything'? "Good night, Adrian," I reply with a sigh, and hear him cross the room and exit, closing the door behind him. After listening carefully to make sure that he's not still here, I sit up, and reach for the brush on the night-stand. I take refuge in brushing my hair, and close out all else. When I can no longer pretend to need another stroke, I reluctantly quit, and lie down to sleep.

________________________________________


Adrian

Life passes relatively well for near a week. I remain as close to my brother as often as I can, warning our father without a word that I'll allow nothing. However, I worry for Lucius. As the week passes, he grows more and more agitated, but whenever I ask for the reason, he changes the subject. Sometimes he's not even subtle about it.

He spends many hours up in the tower, petting the crows that somehow accepts him as one of them, and as many hours in the bath. I've not attempted to join him. I cannot even sit nearby and watch. If I do, all I can remember is him in my mouth, and the look on his face afterwards. I only made that mistake once, and immediately repositioned myself outside the bath room. It's been too long. I can't tell him now of what I feel. I have to concentrate on helping him.

I watch him eat. He talks easily with the people beside him, laughing at some of their comments. He seems to take it well. Although I told him to ask me if he needed anything, he hasn't asked. In some ways, I regret it, but it's his choice. I won't have him depend on me for pleasure. It's as well he gets used to taking care of it himself.

The woman on his right suddenly touches his cheek, and I tense, but she only guides his face towards me. As she then lets go, Lucius smiles and nods, before rising to leave. A servant starts forward and places a hand behind his elbow, but he gently declines the offer of guidance. I don't recognize the servant, so he's probably not been here for long. If he had been, he most probably would have known how well my brother can find his way.

A few minutes later, as I see my father get up, I offer my excuses as well and make my way towards Lucius's quarters. I might trust my brother, but I don't trust my father. Not anymore.

I open the door to my brother's room, and at once I feel worry gnawing at the back of my head. Something is wrong. I can't sense his presence in the room. As I quickly scan the chamber, I worry even more. The clothes he'd worn to dinner are discarded in a sloppy pile at the foot of the bed, and as I hurry inside the bath room, wet footprints confirm that he has been there and left as quickly.

"Curse it!" I spit soundlessly. Where can he have gone to? I stand still, breathing heavily for a few moments. It's rather obvious what he's done. He's gone to... see our father. But where? The most logical place would be Father's quarters, but that might be exactly the reason why he's not there. I take a deep, trembling breath, and then release it as I make my decision. It's not that hard a decision, actually. Either I can stand here and wait until he comes back, or I can go search for him, starting with the most logical places. I set off.

As I run towards our father's chambers, I breathe prayers with every step. Prayers that Lucius will be there. That he will not. That our father hasn't arrived yet. That he has, so I can kill him. That I won't have to kill him. That I will be able to convince Lucius to come back with me.

I'm out of breath when I finally catch sight of the door, but the even more blessed sight that greets me is my brother, leaning against the wall opposite it. I slow down, and then steadily walks up to him. It doesn't take long for him to hear my footsteps, and he pushes himself off the wall and turns towards me. For a moment, he tilts his head to the side, and then he opens his mouth.

"What are you doing here, Adrian?" he asks, and I'm not sure whether I'm shocked or proud that he managed to recognize or guess that it was me.

"To save our family from death," I reply, before actually being aware of what I'm saying.

He gasps. "Death?" he asks then.

I nod gravely, although I know he can't see it. "If you walk in that door..." I take a deep breath to steady myself to tell the truth as I see it right now "...either Father or I will die tonight." Probably me. If I attack him, his size and experience will determine the outcome. If I don't, I will probably die from the pain in my heart.

Lucius sags down, placing a hand to the wall to steady himself. He shakes his head slowly, looking down. "No. I hate you." He looks up at me again, and his face has turned to one of fury. "I hate you, Adrian!" he screams. "Why are you doing this to me?"

I swallow. "Ssh," I say in attempt to calm him down, but do not try to reach for him. "Let's return to either your rooms or mine, and then you can start screaming at me." My heart almost breaks as his mien fills with disgust.

"Fine, Brother." He almost spits the word out, and then he sweeps past me, leaving me to stare after him for a few seconds before hurriedly following him, holding back the tears in my eyes by sheer willpower. I won't allow him to pity me.

To my surprise, he leads me not to his own quarters, but to mine, but then I think I understand. That way he can leave when he wants to. If we would be in his rooms, although he could order me to leave, he would not be able to force me to leave. It gives a certain security, I guess. Besides, if he decides to throw things at me, it won't be his things he throws.

He opens the door and strides in, as though he lived there, and in a way, I guess that is true. After all, twins are supposed to be closer than ordinary siblings, and the way I feel... If he wants something I can give him, it's his. I could never refuse him. Except for one thing. I will never let him to go to our father again. Never.

I close the door and then turn towards him. He stands with his back to me, and the fact that he doesn't let me see his face hurts. "Angel..." I begin hesitantly, but he interrupts me.

"No," he says sharply. "You will listen to me. You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do. And thanks to you, I will have a lot to atone for before he will allow me what I need."

"Then don't go back there ever," I plead.

At that, he actually laughs; a harsh, bitter laugh. "What would I do otherwise? I can't touch myself, so I need him."

Can't touch himself? I vaguely recall Father saying something like that. But for what reason should he listen to that? "Why?" I ask, puzzled.

A deep, controlled breath. "Innocent." It is almost an accusation. "How could you understand? How could you ever understand the basic need to protect someone, and because of that, to obey someone's every wish, even if it causes you pain? How can you understand how that need can consume you, make you less than a human, until all that is left is obedience, until you almost forget why you accepted it in the first place? How could you understand?"

I stare at him, frozen in shock. Protect someone... Who was he protecting when he first... let Father touch him? "Protect..." Yes, I know how it feels to protect someone, although I've never had to submit to anyone else in order to do that. But I know how it feels to protect someone at the cost of self. And that's why I don't say that out loud. It would probably hurt him that I think myself as important as him, that I think I've sacrificed as much as he has. I know I haven't, that my small problems never could amount to what he has suffered. So instead, I tell him the only thing I can think of. "Teach me."