Spoiler Fanfiction
I'm sorry it took me forever to write this chapter!
Previous Chapter: https://thethwaphouse.wixsite.com/thwap-house/forum/spoiler-fanfiction/heir-of-the-shining-isle-chapter-vii?origin=notification
The next few days were awful. The brothers went out of their way to avoid each other. Artham hung out with his friends in the Annieran army, while Esben hung out with Dike and some others. Whenever circumstances forced them together, they did what needed to be done with the least amount of actual interaction.
If anyone noticed the distance between the two Wingfeathers, no one commented. Without Bonifer, Esben doubted anyone knew what to say.
But Bonifer was gone, and would remain away for a while yet. He’d taken Conor with him at Artham’s request, since the young man was an experienced guard, trained by Illia, and one of Artham’s close friends. If anything could make this mysterious Alina Balan talk, it would be Conor’s charm.
On the third morning after the fight, a storm hit the island. Rain pelted the castle and thunder boomed. Bored out of his mind, Esben sought out his favorite window seat in the most rarely used part of the castle and settled down to draw.
Except he couldn’t think of anything to sketch. His imagination was dead. And he couldn’t see much of anything out of the window because of the rain.
Esben groaned loudly and smacked his forehead to his notebook in frustration.
“Having a bad day?”
The familiar voice startled Esben. He sat bolt upright, the notepad tumbling to the ground as he looked around for the source of the sound.
“Uncle Tal!”
Leaping to his feet, Esben threw himself at the man and hugged him tightly — but he was very careful not to knock him off his feet.
Uncle Tal laughed and hugged him back. He was an elderly man with silvery white hair and laugh lines crinkling his face. Technically, he was Esben’s great-uncle, as he was the younger brother of Esben’s grandmother, Queen Madia Wingfeather, but it was much easier to forgo the ‘great’.
Instead of dressing in the clothing of a nobleman, as most would expect of him, Uncle Tallaran had always preferred the unobtrusive clothing of the Annieran public. In the same way, he lived in a little cottage in the countryside instead of in the castle. He liked life better like that.
“Ow,” Esben said, pulling away. “You’re whistleharp jabbed me in the side!”
Uncle Tal chuckled again. “Yes, it can be a very awkward accessory, don’t you think?”
“How are you doing?” Esben asked. He couldn’t help sounding a little resentful when he added, “You didn’t come to the funerals.”
His uncle’s face fell and his eyes turned glassy. “I fell ill when I heard the news, Esben. I came as soon as I recovered enough for the journey.”
Esben hugged the old man again. He smelled like limpiny sprouts, probably from his garden. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Uncle Tal agreed. “Did you and Artham have a fight?”
“What?” Esben blushed. “How did you know?”
“I saw him when I first arrived, training outside alone.”
“In the rain?”
“‘Of course.” Uncle Tal smiled. “This is your brother we’re talking about.”
“True.”
When Esben didn’t continue, Uncle Tal raised an eyebrow. “So did you have a fight?”
Esben nodded ruefully. “Yes.”
“What about?”
“Well . . .” Esben slid back onto the window seat, Uncle Tal following suit. “It was a stupid fight. I think the stress got to us.”
“Why haven’t you made up?”
“Because we’re stubborn fools?”
Uncle Tal laughed. “That’s not a very good reason. Or a very kingly one.”
“With Artham, I never feel very kingly.”
“Odd. I’m pretty sure fact is never dependent on feeling.”
Esben glanced over at his uncle. “Are you going to lecture me now?”
His uncle smiled at him. “How about I simply offer advice?”
“Sounds good to me,” Esben replied. “I need as much of that as I can get right now.”
“First, I want to know everything. Start from the beginning, with the arrival of the news about Illia . . .” Uncle Tal sighed sadly. “It will do you good to talk about it.”
So Esben told him everything. All about Illia’s funeral, the assassination, the council meeting, his meeting with the assassin himself, and the fight with Artham. Talking about it all was like peeling back an onion. He cried, but he had his uncle there with him and he cried too.
“I don’t want to be king,” Esben finished finally, his voice miserable. “I want Papa and Mama to be alive again . . . I don’t want to have to make decisions like I did the other day. I don’t want to have to be civil and meet with murders . . . I don’t want to be an adult yet.”
“That is quite understandable,” Uncle Tal said softly. “But you did well. You’ve made good, solid decisions that will benefit Anniera. I believe in you.”
“I’m thirteen! Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”
“Yes,” Uncle Tal agreed. “It is rather odd to say such a thing to a thirteen-year-old, but you are a Wingfeather. We weather all odds.”
“Sure.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Where’s that advice you promised?”
“Oh, I think you know what to do next.”
Esben sighed. “Make up with Artham?”
“Exactly.”
“Why me? He’s older. Shouldn’t he come talk to me?”
“Everyone is equally responsible in relationships.”
“Ah, there’s that sage advice I was waiting for.”
“I do try to pretend there’s some wisdom beneath these grey hairs.”
Esben laughed and slid down from the window seat.
“How long will you be staying?” he asked, helping his uncle down.
“For as long as I please,” Uncle Tal said, his eyes twinkling. “And I plan to stick around for a good while.”
Esben smiled. “Thanks. Well, wish me luck with Artham.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him. I’m sure he’s dying for reconciliation at this point.”
Probably.
“See you at dinner!” Esben waved and strode off down the corridor. It was time to apologize to his brother.
. . . .
Esben was drenched before he took more than two steps outside.
Of course Artham was still training in this weather. Of course he was. If only he could have been a normal person and train indoors during rain storms. Then again, if he was a normal person, then brothers would be living in some quaint little cottage in the Annieran countryside with both of their parents and no responsibilities.
If only.
Esben ran through the courtyard, holding a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the falling sheets of water. He came to the training ground and jumped over the short fence — his boots splattering with mud. With all the heavy rain, the dirt of the arena had become little more than a small, shallow pond.
His brother stood in the center, his back to him, steadily going through the stances. None of his friends were there.
Probably because they have enough sense to spend a storm reading inside where it’s nice and dry, Esben though, amused.
“How long until you’re ready to come inside?” he called.
Artham started and whipped around. When he saw it was Esben, he frowned, blinking water from his eyes, then looked away.
“I still have ten minutes left of practice.”
“You can finish them inside.”
He shrugged, not answering, and fell back into his training routine, switching from stance to stance.
Blast. Esben had wanted to keep the small talk going for a little longer, but apparently not. If Uncle Tal were here, he’d be telling him to get on with it.
He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it — at least, I really do appreciate you. I mean, I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for what you did.”
Artham lowered his sword and turned to look at him again. This time, there was guilt and embarrassment in his gaze.
“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly. “I know you were only doing what you had to do – for the good of the kingdom.”
“Call it even?” Esben asked, holding out his hand.
A small smile flickered across Artham’s face and he reached out to shake it. “Sure.”
“By the way,” Esben said when his brother let go. “You should pause training and come inside for another reason other than the fact it’s as wet as the ocean out here.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Esben grinned. “Uncle Tal is here!”
Artham brightened at once. “Now I know why you apologized!”
Without waiting for a response, he raced towards the palace. Still grinning, Esben sprinted after him.
They spent the afternoon catching up with Uncle Tal over tea in his room. Once again, there was laughter inside Castle Rysen. A few hours later, Bonifer returned.
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