Julien left the vehicle and stared at the old castle with a cold silence.

“You always say you don’t want to make me uncomfortable, right?”

Andrew looked at him, then lightly brushed the door with his hand as he stepped out of the vehicle himself.

“…Yes.”

Julien picked at his cuticles.

“Then… if I ask you not to come inside, will you?”

Andrew opened his mouth, and closed it again.

But that answered Julien’s question loud and clear.

“Ok.”

Julien said nothing more as they walked through the front garden towards the large double doors, even as Andrew continued to throw worried looks his way.

He had no illusions that that would’ve worked anyway, and he didn’t have the energy to try either.

Julien hesitated before ringing the bell. Refusing to let Andrew see his face, he kept it mostly hidden from view as he spoke just loud enough for him to hear.

“…Don’t, say anything.”

Andrew looked at him, his brow furrowed, and head tilted in a silent question.

“Whatever you see or hear, just don’t.”

It’ll reflect badly on me if you do.

With that final warning left unsaid, the grand double doors opened and the two of them walked inside the dragon’s maw.

—

Dinner started at sunset everyday for the Rubane household, and there are just a few rules that needed to be followed, but first, a prayer.

Julien’s grandfather clinked his glass with a spoon, catching everyone’s attention in the eerily silent hall.

“I will start us off.”

Everyone stood up and solemnly bowed their heads.

“We thank and praise The Mother of the Skies who gave us the patrons of humanity.”

And of course, the people repeat.

“We thank and praise The Mother of the Skies who gave us the patrons of humanity.”

“We thank the light, for gifting the earth a plentiful harvest, and energy for our systems.”

And again.

“We thank the light, for gifting the earth a plentiful harvest, and energy for our systems.”

“We praise the night, for calming the never ending rage of the light that guides us, so that we may rest and enjoy the harvest yielded from the sun-kissed earth.”

Again.

“In the names of Hathor, Halos, and Miris, the patron gods of humanity, and the earth itself, Gaia, we invoke your blessings as we enjoy your hallowed gifts.”

Again.

“Blessed be to this meal.”

Julien looked up.

“Blessed be to this meal.”

The patriarch smiled and sat down.

“Begin.”

Everyone sat down, starting from the elders on the right side of the patriarch, followed by the youngests on the left.

As said before, there were a few very simple rules in the Rubane household:

Don’t sit without permission.

Do not eat before the patriarch.

Don’t scrape your cutlery against the plates when you eat.

Do not initiate conversation before the patriarch.

Do not interrupt someone when they’re speaking.

Always answer when spoken too.

Greet your elders and superiors.

Be polite.

Always be polite.

Don’t talk back when being scolded.

Don’t yell.

Don’t whisper.

Don’t treat lowlives as equals. But also be magnanimous and polite, as they can ruin your image.

Do everything in your power to ensure the family's image remains pristine.

Cover for your own mistakes, but if you can’t, pay the family several fold for doing it for you.

Always be dressed appropriately when in the ceremonial home.

Quiet hours begin at 9pm.

You may not leave until you are dismissed.

Just a few, very simple rules. Though Julien had broken a few before, one absolute rule of the Rubane family:

All mistakes can be forgiven.

Julien brought a piece of steak to his mouth that felt like rubber, and tasted like cardboard.

Delicious.

Julien’s grandfather watched him carefully, before shifting his gaze to the imposing man stationed behind his chair.

“And tell me, boy, who is that behind you?”

He made a disgusted face.

“Don’t tell me it’s one of those, what do you call them, a catamite? Paramour?”

Julien’s father interrupted the old man.

Bad move.

“Father.”

“Do not speak out of turn, Arwel. You had one like that already, who’s to say you didn’t spawn another? Especially when just last year—“

Julien spoke quickly.

“He’s my bodyguard.”

The patriarch glared at him.

“It’d do well for you to remember, boy, don’t interrupt me.”

Julien swallowed and nodded, he lowered his head in a semi-bow.

“Yes… grandfather.”

Forgiveness, it seemed, would be something he would need to beg for tonight as well.

His grandfather eyed him sharply, then turned to Arwel.

“A bodyguard… do tell me son, just what exactly does he need guarding against?”

He chuckled, lifting a piece of red steak to his mouth.

“His incompetence, or yours?”

Arwel glanced at Julien indifferently.

“None that I’m aware of. That is a question for my eldest.”

Julien’s father smiled amicably at the old man.

“Though if he can’t even handle something so insignificant that it hasn’t even reached my ears, on his own, I’d say his incompetence is to blame.”

The patriarch guffawed, and Julien’s various aunts and uncles joined him.

It wasn’t even funny.

One of Julien’s uncles chimed in.

“If I may sir.”

“You may.”

“I do believe it is the fault of my brother, in part.”

The patriarch smiled and waved at him to continue.

“Do tell.”

Here we go.

“His second is of particularly foul blood, who knows if the rat Valérie gave birth to is even of our kin to begin with.”

He shot Julien a dirty look.

“He looks just like her, and nothing like our Arwel after all. You don’t think he’d be… ill suited to our work?”

His uncle's wife chimed in.

“Oh I do agree, his brain is not quite… up to par. He really is just the same as his mother. Poor thing.”

Julien clenched his fork tighter, gnawing on its metallic edge as though sharpening his thoughts on whetstone.

Jealousy.

Julien’s father lifted his glass in a mock toast.

“No son of mine would be incapable enough to fail a task as simple as this one. And I can assure you, he is mine.”

He smiled.

“Your four kids on the other hand… Well, let’s just say they must take after their mother more. I know they thank the gods daily for that blessing.”

Julien’s uncle sputtered but quickly composed himself.

“Yes well, it's a blessing I could have a wife as beautiful as her.”

“But not nearly as loyal as mine.”

That nearly sent him into a fit, but one of Julien’s other aunts chimed in, redirecting attention.

“Oh, as if you are one to talk about loyalty.”

Julien’s stepmother cleared her throat and raised a fan to cover her face.

“Do mind the additional company dear sister-in-law, you too brother-in-law.”

Julien’s grandfather gave her a warm smile.

“Good Marie, I knew you were a good fit since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Julien’s step mother’s smile was strained.

“Of course.”

It was all so fake he felt sick.

They’re lying.

Lying.

Liars.

Lie.

They—

“That reminds me. Julien dear?”

Julien looked up and made eye contact with his step mother.

Sickening.

But of course, he too, was a liar and a fake.

So he smiled.

“Yes mother?”

“I have something to deliver to Valérie. Do you mind talking to the gardener about it later? I know how much you love those things.”

Those things…

Julien lowered his fork, but his smile never faltered.

“Of course.”

Even as he swallowed the poisons they fed him.

—

The rest of the meal was more of the same tasteless barbs. But Julien was no longer paying any attention, or at least, he didn’t remember any of it.

He was more focused on keeping anger from erupting where it shouldn’t.

The prickly stare coming from behind him, watching him, pitying him, different from the rest, drew his attention as well. Mixing his anger with a sense of shame.

He hadn’t said a word, not one, yet Julien could feel a heavy judgement.

Was it in his head, or was it only to be expected?

Julien took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The after meal prayer went as follows:

“We thank the gods once more for this pleasant meal, and the great nation we stand on, Raúl, for providing us shelter.”

The patriarch stood and went to leave the dining hall.

“You are dismissed. And Julien.”

Julien opened his eyes and looked at the patriarch.

“Yes grandfather?”

“Meet me in my office.”

He glanced at Andrew.

“And take that thing with you.”

Julien’s mouth twitched but he quickly turned it into a strained smile.

“Yes sir.”

Julien didn’t look at Andrew before exiting the hall himself.

—

The patriarch’s office was a grand thing. Forest green walls, alloy furniture projected with the appearance and texture of rich calypso, golden dragons cresting the peaks of pillars and the outline of the fireplace, and right behind the old man’s busy desk, above even him, was the national flag.

The man was nothing if not patriotic.

“Grandfather.”

The patriarch, standing opposite the fireplace, was crouched over the pool table, aiming a shot at a striped ball.

“Wait for me.”

The man hit the white ball and it crashed into the striped, sending the ball ricocheting off the side and into the farthest hole.

Julien ignored it and moved to stand in front of the man’s desk, while Andrew positioned himself by the door, eyes glued to Julien as if not willing to miss a single one of his movements.

At least I’m not alone.

Though he almost thought it’d be better if he was.

Soon, the 8 ball rolled into the hole, and the table reset itself in a blink. The patriarch looked in Julien’s direction, pointing to another cue with his own.

“Join me, child.”

Julien picked up the stick and watched the old man send the white ball barrelling into the triangle, breaking the rack and sending a solid straight into the cornermost hole.

He took another shot, spreading the balls out further before taking a step back.

“How are your grades?”

Julien lined up his shot, there wasn’t a lot he could maneuver with the white ball's current position. He furrowed his brows.

“I’m in the 97th percentile for my department.”

He took his shot, accidentally knocking a solid in with one of the stripes.

Damnit.

The old man humphed and took aim. Julien had practically set him up for the next shot.

“What happened?”

He hit the ball, sending a solid into the nearby hole. Julien shifted away.

“I was… ill-prepared.”

The patriarch hit another ball into a hole, then another, before sending the white ball into the third.

He handed the ball to Julien and placed his cue on Julien’s foot.

“You were distracted.”

Julien tried to move his foot, but the man pressed down harder. Julien hurriedly looked at Andrew, shaking his head slightly.

Andrew’s stare grew more intense, his brow lowering dangerously, but he didn’t do anything.

The patriarch grabbed his face and forcibly turned it towards the table.

“Aim.”

Julien placed the white ball on the table.

“You’ve heard about the RCRI, correct?”

The Raúl Collaborative Research Initiative… Julien took aim, ignoring the throbbing of his trapped foot.

“Only that I’m participating.”

He launched the white ball, perfectly knocking a striped into the leftmost hole.

His grandfather hummed and watched Julien take aim again.

“Depending on how you do… Ah, how is Valérie faring lately?”

Julien hit the white ball, sending the 8 ball ricocheting into the bottom right hole. The whole table reset.

He took a deep breath.

Endure.

“What do you need me to do?”

The old man released Julien’s foot. Chuckling, he threw a look at Andrew.

“You’ll know what to do once you get there. Training and debriefing happens in March, I’ll send someone for you.”

Julien glanced at Andrew as well.

So it’s something he can’t hear.

The patriarch patted Julien’s face.

“There was a lot to clean up because of you.”

The patting became less and less gentle.

“Make a good contribution and your debt will be repaid.”

As if.

He felt his grip on the cue tighten.

The patriarch raised his hand as if to strike him, but Julien only frowned. Neither flinching, nor closing his eyes.

*Crash*

Julien felt a pit form in his stomach, but he didn’t dare look at the other end of the room. All he could do was hope he didn’t do anything stupid.

Andrew’s glare was intense as he bent over to pick up the pieces of a fallen vase.

But he still didn’t say anything, at least not with his words.

Good.

The patriarch lowered his hand slightly and gripped Julien on the shoulder, pulling him down to his level.

“You have a good mutt.”

Julien’s eyes shook, unsure of what to say, but he had to say something.

“I—”

His grandfather took Julien’s cue and hung it on the wall.

“You are dismissed.”

Julien’s eyes darted between his grandfather and Andrew, but he didn’t linger.

“Yes sir.”

He hurriedly left the room, barely registering that Andrew had opened the door.

Damnit.

Julien took several deep breaths as he rushed through the hall, calming his rapid heart rate into a slow, steady rhythm. His footsteps eventually followed suit.

Damnit.

—

Julien led Andrew through the back garden.

A garden that reminded him of wonderland, twisted yet magical, and Julien walked through it slowly, bending over to sniff a few flowers on occasion, or to brush his hand across the hedges.

It was less suffocating here.

Sometimes, he’d encounter a staff member and engage in a brief conversation with them, or he’d throw a coin into a golden fountain. And soon, he stopped in front of a path of pink and white flowers growing on a small group of hedged shrubs on the outskirts, just before the front gate.

He lightly traced their leaves, their petals, their stems, then he sighed.

This garden would lose its magic soon.

“Did you know? This garden, this corner, used to be my Mother’s favorite part of the castle.”

And mine too, when she was here.

He pricked his finger on a protruding thorn, and the blood formed a single droplet at the edge of his finger. Andrew came closer to get him to stop touching them, but Julien raised his hand to stop him.

“They’re called dotted hawethornes, she always said they reminded her of home.”

He looked at Andrew and gave him a sad smile.

“They’re quite lovely, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t need to know this.

Then again, he wasn’t really speaking to him.

Andrew slowly nodded his head and approached the flowers as well, appreciating them from a polite distance.

“They are.”

Julien lowered his eyes and took his hand off the flowers, smearing the red droplet across his healed finger.

“The groundskeeper tells me they’ll be replaced soon, hydrangeas. So he said.”

Julien scoffed.

“The current madam doesn’t like the thorns.”

He gave the flowers one last look before tugging on Andrew’s sleeve

“Take me back.”