Disclaimer: This fic was originally a Secret Santa fanfic for Cicero Kahran. Suikoden doesn't belong to me. The characters sure don't, either.
Started: January 13, 2006
Finished: January 19, 2006
"Brother"
He liked to imagine he had a brother.
Daydreaming kept the loneliness at bay as he sat in the dark, his eyes searching for the hints of light beyond the curtains. He always awoke before the dawn, pulled from sleep by a dream of war-like images that he neither understood or wanted in any way. But the bishops had said that they are normal -- a test, of sorts, to those that were entwined with the True Runes.
He was still young enough to not grasp the entirety of what the True Runes were, and how they played a role in his life.
But his uniqueness gave him something to reach out with; he would imagine that there was another like him, a brother that would share his dreams and aspirations -- not those of a bishop, but those of a child no older than seven years of age.
His brother would be younger, because more than anything, he wanted someone to guide. That was probably his training as a bishop manifesting, but he did not analyze the desire. His brother would ask for his help when the literature demanded vocabulary beyond his knowledge, and ask about the dreams that woke him up before the first glimmers of light reached the windows.
They would share a bedroom, because his room was large and impersonal and lonely for one child.
He liked to imagine he would cherish his brother, despite not being able to give him more than a face and the basics of a personality. He never gave his brother a name, aware that his attendants would wonder and possibly worry. But he would imagine him following close behind, his inquisitive eyes a welcome diversion from his lessons and the many adults in his life. His laughter would drive the dreams away as they giggled in the early morning, keeping him from thinking about the trials he would face as a bishop.
More than anything, he wanted to believe he was not alone in the world.
- - - - -
He liked to imagine he had a brother.
In the stillness of his room, he had a contained eternity to think. He had few people to talk to, and even fewer people willing to spend more than a moment with him. His room was a prison, and in his room he was supposed to stay indefinitely. Because of this, he was forced to rely on his imagination, and it was through his imagination that he managed to maintain his sanity.
His brother would be older than him, smarter and with an answer to everything; to a boy who had no one to answer his questions, there was something utterly satisfying to that. His brother would scold those people that served him his food because they were silent and uncaring, and then coddle him as if in apology. Just a little.
They would play games and run around together, much like those children that he could barely make out through the hazy windows of his room. And they would hide together when that stupid bishop would come in to "check up on his progress." And, while hidden away, they would ponder together about what the world had in store for him -- for them.
And, when they were feeling especially mischievous and adventurous, they would sneak out of his room and explore.
His brother would never ignore him like everyone else seemed to; he would come running if there was ever a problem, and would deal with it in a proper way that escaped him. He would also never scold him for rebelling against the bishop and his servants, because he would share his feelings about how he was treated.
He did not know what siblings really did for one another, but he figured that they were better than any of the people he had met. After all, he would share a common blood with siblings, and that had to mean something, right?
More than anything, he wanted to believe there was someone out there that would not ignore him.
- - - - -
There were few times in the day when his door was not either warded or guarded, and those were shortly before and after meals. If he had been "good" for several weeks, the guard would relax and not return to his post for a good ten minutes. That was enough time to sneak and venture through the halls, peeking out of windows if he felt especially daring. And, if he was lucky, he would make it back to the room without being noticed. He worked out his little adventures well in advance and looked forward to them more than anything else in his small, contained world.
There was only the quietest of clicks as the door shut, but it was enough to make the little boy look around worriedly. Once he was confident that there was no one to hear the noise, he crept along the edge of the corridor, one hand trailing along the marble walls and the skillfully-made etchings in them. His alert green eyes scanned the halls as he tiptoed around, searching for a somewhat safe place to soak up his temporary freedom.
He tensed as he heard voices coming from down the hall, and he quickly pressed himself against the back of a pillar in a childish attempt to blend into his surroundings. Spying over the corner of the pillar, he could make out a man dressed in the familiar garbs of a bishop walking alongside a boy his age. Dressed in pristine blue robes, the small figure reeked of class and opportunity.
His mouth went dry as he realized the boy looked exactly like him.
His look-alike smiled at the bishop and murmured quiet questions that did not pierce the cloud of confusion that had enveloped him. He had a brother… A real brother. A twin, no less. And not just any twin—one that was being treated better than him in every possible way.
A child's light-hearted laughter echoed through the halls, and the boy hidden behind the pillar ungracefully slid to the floor. There was a numbing pain in his chest that clawed at every daydream that had kept him sane, and he shuddered before falling still. He would not move from that spot until the guard returned and searched for him, and even then he would not respond favorably.
He was ignored by everyone. Even his own flesh and blood. His brother.
The event would define the majority of the rest of his life.