Having Patience

Thinking back to this outburst of the King, Nathaniel got enraged all over again. The declaration that he was 'only still alive because the King willed it so' had been the start of a furious argument that ended with the King nearly collapsing and Nathaniel storming out of his chambers, convinced he would kill the man if he had to look at his righteous face one second longer.

Somewhere in between, the King had dropped the bomb that he wanted Nathaniel to take over the kingdom, now, that the situation was at its worst anyway. To Nathaniel, it sounded like the King wanted to shrink from his responsibilities after one tiny setback. Well, maybe losing his ability to walk was more than a 'tiny' setback, but still no reason to give up. Especially now, that the Icelands needed a good, trusted ruler more than ever with that crazy woman trying to take over the reins. Really, what a glorious idea!

"What would you say if you were in my position?", Nathaniel asked Aston instead of an answer. Though he knew the latter never wanted to reign, he still had a clever head upon his shoulders if he ever wanted to use it. Most of the time, he did not. However, he was also not so heartless that he wanted innocent people to die. Opposite to Nathaniel, he didn't massacre a whole army yet.

Aston slowly blinked up to the ceiling, then exhaled in a sigh. "Must both of you draw me into your quarrel? Look, I have no opinion on this. If either of you can snatch the throne back and defeat whatever country wants to invade us this time, then I'm fine with it."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Nathaniel leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Deliberately, he only looked at his hands while he pulled on a new pair of gloves. Alas, he suddenly halted in shock.

Originally, one of his hands had been the normal white color while the other was riddled by black veins from his last battle. They had already spread a bit, delaying the response when he told his fingers to move. Now, however, he couldn't tell anymore which hand it had been. They were both pure white. If he didn't know any better, he would think that he was never affected to begin with.

For a second, he closed his eyes to calm the turmoil in his heart. He was afraid to believe what he saw, searching for another reason how it had come to this. But when he opened them again, nothing had changed. The aftermath of his magic had vanished just like that. He should rejoice, and yet he felt more confused than anything else.

Then, a thought suddenly popped into his mind: was this Katherine's doing? Yesterday he had seen the light of her magic. She was obviously using it subconsciously, driven by the strong emotions. Yet, what if it had cured his illness?

The urge to find her now and question her was strong, but he suppressed it. What if it was just a coincidence? Maybe the residing poison had moved to another body part? If that was it, he would only reveal himself as the patient if he turned to her now. He didn't feel it anywhere else, but that didn't mean anything.

For now, he decided, he should calm down first and handle the situation at hand. Regardless of how impatient he was to know the truth, acting in a haste was never a good idea. Slowly, he pulled his black gloves over the astonishing discovery.

When he glanced at Aston again, the latter looked like he was about to doze off. His limbs were slack, and his lids closed, but he didn't start to snore yet, a definite sign that he was not yet fully asleep.

Nathaniel deliberately raised his voice when asking a question that might agitate Aston enough to finally stay awake. "So, it's alright with you to be my cousin from now on?"

As if awakened from his half-sleep with a bucket of ice water, Aston's head jerked upwards. "Huh?"

He looked like a little rabbit caught off-guard by a fox invading his homely lair, so much so, that Nathaniel felt an ounce of sympathy. It vanished rapidly when he remembered that this boy could have realized it way sooner if he used his brain once in a while. Or maybe just opening his ears would have sufficed already. "Like the King said, I'm not his son. I'm the son of his late older brother. So, we are no brothers. Actually, we never were."

Aston furrowed his brows, then he sprang up from his seat as realization set in. "No. That can not be. No, no, no. I won't accept this!"

As he agitatedly walked in circles, Nathaniel's mouth slowly curled up. "You see? Are you angry at your father now?"

"I sure as hell am!", he confirmed, his eyes blazing. To Nathaniel however, he still looked like a harmless little animal baring its baby teeth. "Why didn't he at least tell me about it? I'm his son after all!"

"Isn't Emilian also his son? You think he should tell him?", Nathaniel reasoned, amused. He once thought he was this man's son too, but now he was glad he wasn't. It was better when one's father was dead than having to discover more and more of his lies, wondering which words one could still trust.

"It's different!", Aston argued. "You can't trust these twins. They are too treacherous! But we are trustworthy, aren't we? We heroically saved the King in danger, even nearly laying down our lives to -"

"Enough", Nathaniel stopped him with a raised hand. His face had darkened at the reminder of how many good men had died in that action. The Falumors had toyed with them, deliberately keeping the princes alive while butchering their soldiers like chickens. If not for them underestimating Nathaniel's magic, Aston and he would be just as dead as the others. Winning through unfair means, especially winning with so many deaths, was nothing to be proud of. And what was this King doing that was saved through so many sacrifices? He was betraying them all, essentially giving up on his people.

"Aston", Nathaniel said slowly as he stood up to be on eye-level with his cousin, who was looking at him with curiosity. "If I were to decide that I want to take the throne now, would you stand by my side?"

Without thinking, Aston nodded. "Of course. You are my br - cousin. You will at least still be my cousin, right? Despite father?"

With the last sentences he seemed to deflate like a ball with a hole, looking at Nathaniel with puppy eyes. Nathaniel couldn't help but smile a bit. "Naturally. Regardless of your father's opinion or the blood in our veins, you will always stay my family. Though, to be true, I prefer you calling me 'brother'."

He paused for a second, as if he was unsure if he should say what was in his head, then he continued with a rare gentleness in his eyes: "It reminds me of the time you were three and clung to my leg wailing whenever I was about to leave. Your grip was so strong, I was afraid I had to leave my leg behind, until your mom came in and coaxed you with cookies." Shaking his head, he chuckled. "I never saw a child eat so fast."

"Yeah, who can resist cookies?", Aston joked, awkwardly scratching his neck. Even the embarrassment about this childhood story of his, however, couldn't hide how happy he was. He never thought he would one day hear such emotional words from this cold brother of his.

Usually, he was the one uttering cheesy words, while Nathaniel just ignored them or made sarcastic remarks. Now, he felt like he was attacked out of the blue by such seriously spoken cheesy lines that he had no idea how to respond. He could only think: 'Just when did my brother get so nice?'

With a wry chuckle, he finally reverted to the last topic: "So, you want to take the throne now?"

Nathaniel paused, then solemnly shook his head. "Not now. First, we have to wait and see how Emilian and the Queen handle the situation. If they have support from Falumor, we can't attack hastily. However, I think after a few weeks with that madwoman, the aristocrats will want their King back even more. We will gain followers through this, and the Dragsean will think twice before attacking a territory that Falumor claimed, so it will buy us some time. Yes, I think the best we can do now, is wait."