It would be so much easier if he were a rude jerk.

Andreis is many, many things, but a jerk, he was not.

If you asked Mila what her new adopted brother was like, she'd immediately tell you that he was scared. He's just an eleven-year-old boy who was suddenly swept away from a dying region that most in the Draisel kingdom had long since forgotten. His accent is a slow drawl, pleasant to the ear.

He's also smart. Enough so that, only after a few months, he has been placed in her classes with her.

Some part of her had been glad. She hadn't had any tutors since they had all focused on the new heir. It's good to be in class again, if only for something to do other than to hide out in her room and send letters to Ovi and Ivan.

Another part of her was nervous. Showing him up wouldn't be so easy if he were particularly clever.

In their first tutoring session, he didn't say much. Mila was the one answering all the tutor's questions aloud, but this was overshadowed. Their tutors would often end up impressed by his scrawling penmanship, how his answers, while clumsy, were always correct.

She realizes quickly that she's not showing more success than she ever has before, and it won't catch their attention. The realization stumps her. All she does is read their books, memorizing bits of information, but she doesn't have a special edge to change things up.

Several more sessions go by. Mila answers fewer questions out loud. Andreis has grown used to using his voice more. His accent is still thick, and he can only answer in short, choppy sentences. Now and again, foreign words slip out. He seems to be trying to smooth out his accent.

He catches himself quickly on his mistakes.

Mila is loath to admit she's also a bit impressed. He seems... truly determined to adjust to his new home.

She tries not to begrudge him this. It's not what her Mom would want her to do.

"Sister," Andreis holds her sleeve, his eyebrows drawn down. She stares at him, her mouth opening in surprise. She closes it with a click.

"Amelia." She finds herself saying instead, trying to pull her arm away, signaling to let go. Andreis does. His lavender eyes are locked on her, his face somehow intense despite the baby fat that still clings.

"You're okay?" He asks in a rush, not seeming to take offense at her brushing off the title of sibling.

"What do you mean?"

"Maids..." He gestures about, seemingly unable to find the words to describe it.

He doesn't need to. Mila crosses her arms, huffing.

After their latest tutoring session, they'd left together. The walk had been silent, as it always was. Part of the tutoring halls were connected to the main, meaning she had no choice but to walk with him out of courtesy. She does, if only to avoid further ridicule.

Unsurprisingly, they pass some maids who make a point to stare her down as they walk by. The expressions on their faces had been anything but friendly.

Andreis' reception so far had been altogether different. She'd seen the maids smile at him often, dropping their duties to offer short bows. Some even give him candies. He had been assigned a personal maid, to her knowledge, but the woman was one of many she avoided. She'd rather not see one of her tormentors acting kind to the boy.

By now, he seems to have found the words.

"Mean. They're... mean. Why?"

Her lips twitch, and she's not sure what expression morphs her face. Whatever it is, it seems to disturb the boy. Andreis's eyes flicker over her visage, his concern only getting more obvious. For some reason, it irks her.

"I was just born under an unlucky star."

His confusion is clear. She doesn't try to clarify it for him. He'd learn soon enough, surely.

Mila writes to Ovi that it's not working. Several times over, they meet up under the branches to make new plans.

Plan after plan fails.

Impressing tutors? Unsurprisingly fruitless.

Begging to attend parties to form connections? The begging surprisingly worked, Clainon asking her father in her stead. He allows it. She's getting older after all, and she would need to be seen more often. The connection building, though... well. The other kids had already taken to avoiding her. Connections aren't easy for her to build anyway. She always finds herself worrying about the judgment.

She even tried to start coming up with business plans. Clainon had quickly been the one to shut the idea down when she presented it to him. He's always the barrier between a meeting with her father.

"Be a child, my lady."

What a joke.

Plan after plan. As time goes by, the tutors and maids sing Andreis' praises. She finds a surprising, tentative ally in Clainon, who, while still not particularly friendly, at least doesn't treat her and Andreis differently. She catches him lightly scolding Andreis for also not acting enough like a child. Andreis is also commonly turned away from meeting Father.

Vineil summons, but he isn't visited. That's how it's always been for anyone but Mom.

Still a joke. What sort of childhood was one supposed to get within these walls?

None. Not since Mom and Kayra had left.

She writes again to Ovina, trying and failing to write with less doom and gloom. She knows she fails. Ovina, as always, begs to meet up.

The next time she goes to the plum thicket, she's surprised by the face that greets her.

Ivan is all smiles. He rests up against the plum tree behind him, waving with a wiggle of his fingers. He has more freckles than she remembers him having before.

"So, you tried to go the goody-two-shoes route. You ready for a different run at it?"

Mila can't help but snort. "If you're here, we really are desperate, huh."

He laughs, smacking her back in a friendly gesture when she settles beside him, drawing her legs up against her chest.

"Eh, maybe a bit. Ovina had to go to some social thing or another. Should have heard her whining. I swore she was gonna rip up the dress they forced her in. So puffy with frills she could probably be caught in a bad wind and, whoosh! Gone."

The mental image has her giggling. Oh yeah. The Hundreis maids would be hearing an earful about that later, she's certain. She'd have to stay on the balcony tonight to see if she'd be able to hear even from so many miles away.

"Okay then. What's your plan? Must be something big if you stopped your swordplay long enough to show up."

"True enough," he nods gravely, arms crossing and eyes closing. "You owe me big time, pinky-" he groans when she jabs his side. "Okay, okay, claws away. Damn. We're gonna see what happens when you stop trying to be perfect."

She pauses. "...Okayyyy. And enlighten me on how that will help anything?"

"You don't really care what the maids or any of the help think of you, right?"

"Right."

"So, if the goal is to make your dad actually pay attention, maybe you should go the opposite route. Like, start flunking your classes. You know. Do what most of us do."

Mila tilts her head. "Why does it feel like you're also trying to tell me to be a kid?"

"I am. It's not like your situation can get much worse, can it?"

"I... suppose not."

Famous last words.