Side story: Part Six.

( oh please y'all didn't expect Melus to take this so easily? Like he is human after all.)

(new story, revenge of love. Check that too.)

Prince Evan's POV.

I had been hiding in the room, replaying the events that had unfolded. I couldn't believe I had confessed my feelings to my brother, Melus. I thought I had considered every possible outcome, but I hadn't anticipated the rejection and disgust that followed.

As I lay on the less comfortable bed, feeling defeated, the door burst open and a lean boy entered, humming a tune I didn't recognize. He froze when he saw me, his eyes wide with surprise. He bowed hastily and made a quick exit, only to return and repeat the process twice more.

It was almost comical, his attempts to escape the awkward encounter. But the third time he returned, I couldn't help but chuckle. "It's okay, I'm the one in the wrong, not you," I said, trying to put him at ease.

The boy's confusion was palpable, but my words seemed to put him at ease.

"I apologize, I thought I might have entered the wrong quarters, considering I've been here for months," he added, his eyes fixed on me with a mix of confusion and apprehension.

He stood at the door, awaiting my command or gesture, a reminder that I needed to beckon him to act. I patted the bed, inviting him to sit beside me. He did so stiffly, as if hoping to maintain a safe distance.

I found it intriguing that we shared a similar unease. I lifted my legs, intentionally trying to brush against him, but he suddenly stiffened.

"Sorry, but I'm just a servant," he said hastily. "You can't act like that, not even touch me. I'm afraid I might dirty you."

His words were laced with a hint of embarrassment and a deep-seated understanding of the boundaries between our stations.

"I apologize if I have offended you, My Prince," he said, still cowering in the corner with his head bowed.

I chuckled, finding his fear amusing. "You're just like Simon, always so cautious. Does this room transport personality or something?" I teased.

The servant remained still, his eyes fixed on the floor. I sighed, trying a different approach. "Seriously, fear me not. I really don't mind you sitting next to me. I'm hiding from my brother, that's all."

Just then, my stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten yet. And if I went outside, I'd definitely run into Simon, who would pester me with questions even more than the cooks would.

I looked at the servant, a mischievous idea forming in my mind. "Go make me something to eat. But if you see Simon, don't say who the food is for. And if he insists, just tell him you're taking it to my room because you always bring food to my room around this time. Understood?"

The servant nodded quickly, eager to escape, and hurried out of the room to fulfill my request.

I lounged on the bed, waiting for the boy's return, my gaze wandering around the room. The last time I was here, the sounds coming from this room had shattered my illusions and forced me to confront the reality of my brother's love for Simon.

Thirty minutes passed, and the boy returned with a delectable spread that made my stomach growl with anticipation. He placed the food on a small table and poured water, carefully positioning it between my legs.

I dug in as soon as he bowed, savoring the flavors. "Sir Simon wasn't suspicious," he reported, his head still bowed. "But he did follow me, and I had to make a detour to your room. I was sweating bullets."

I chuckled, pleased to see the boy loosen up for the first time. "It's fun, isn't it? Simon can be a curious foe, I know him all too well."

The servant's eyes flickered up, a hint of a smile on his lips, before he quickly returned to his formal demeanor. I continued eating, enjoying the delicious food and the unexpected camaraderie with this charming servant boy.

The servant cleared the table and positioned himself in the corner, his head bowed, awaiting permission to leave. I gestured for him to stay, my eyes locked on his.

"Come sit with me," I said, my voice low and conspiratorial. "I won't touch you, I promise. I know you don't like it."

He hesitated, then sat in the far corner of the bed, maintaining a safe distance. The space between us was almost comical.

The servant's eyes remained downcast, but his voice was laced with curiosity. "Forgive my words, Prince Evan, but why are you hiding from your brother?"

My smile faltered, and my expression turned solemn. The servant didn't notice, his gaze still fixed on the floor.

"I did something...unforgivable," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Something that can't be fixed with apologies or excuses. It's something that will haunt me forever."

I leaned back against the wall, my legs dangling off the bed, and my eyes drifted away, lost in thought. The servant remained silent, his presence a comforting reminder that I wasn't entirely alone in my hiding place.

The servant's words were laced with a simplicity and naivety that struck a chord within me. His eyes remained fixed on his fingers, which he continued to fiddle with, as if trying to distract himself from the weight of our conversation.

"His still your brother, isn't he?" he asked, his tone gentle and encouraging. "Shouldn't be that hard for him to forgive you, no matter how deep the situation is."

My gaze drifted away, my heart heavy with the burden of my secrets. "But this changes everything," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Everything that made us brothers...I can't even forget it or see the right in everything, no matter how I try to justify the situation."

I turned to face the servant, my eyes locking onto his, searching for a glimmer of understanding. "You don't understand, do you? You can't possibly understand the weight of my actions, the gravity of my mistakes."

The servant's words were laced with a wisdom beyond his station, his eyes locked onto mine with a sincerity that was hard to ignore.

"I'm trying to understand, I really am," he said, his voice soft and encouraging. "But what good does hiding do? You still have to face him eventually. Even if the situation seems uncomfortable, at least exchange words to see if you can find some common ground."

His shaky hand landed on my shoulder, a gentle gesture that spoke volumes. I shook my head, feeling the weight of my fears and doubts.

"Talk to him? He doesn't want to face me. Let alone be in the same room with me," I said, my voice laced with despair.

The servant's hand withdrew, but his eyes remained fixed on mine. "Face this head-on," he urged. "No matter what happens, at least you'll have said your piece or even heard his side. I doubt he's said anything conclusive that would make you think you can't even talk to him."

I smiled wryly, appreciating the servant's optimism, even if I didn't share it. "Just go to him. Talk it out. It won't matter in the next years," he said, his eyes shining with conviction.

I chuckled, a hint of bitterness in my tone. "Trust me, it will." But I nodded, grateful for his words, even if I didn't believe them.

"Thank you, servant...?" I paused, realizing I didn't know his name.

"Elian, My prince," he replied, bowing his head.

I nodded, a small smile on my lips. "Thank you, Elian. Your words have given me...food for thought."

My heart raced as I stood in the doorway, gazing at Melus. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken, and his clothes disheveled. His office was a mess, papers scattered everywhere, and his desk cluttered with documents and strange artifacts. He seemed to have aged years in just a day.

"Simon? I told you not to leave in case—" He turned to face me, and his eyes widened in surprise as he realized it wasn't Simon standing before him, but me.

He looked away from me as he sat up straight, burying his face in his palms. "We need to talk." I said, "At least I need to hear you say something Melus," I said, my voice laced with sadness.

"No..." he said, "Simon, Simon said he'd be here, I can't... I wouldn't— he said he'd be here." He stuttered, my brother wasn't himself.

"The tender embraces, the gentle touches, all the intimate moments we shared - were they merely a product of your feelings for me?" He chuckled, a sorrowful laughter that sent a chill down my spine. His eyes, once bright and full of life, now looked vacant and unsettling, like a soulless shell of his former self.

"And what about that day in the car?" he continued, his tone escalating to a manic pitch, his words spilling out in a frantic rush. "You touched me, right here," he said, frantically rubbing his thigh as if trying to erase the memory, his eyes wild with a mix of pain and desperation. His distress was palpable, a heavy atmosphere that hung in the air like a dark cloud, threatening to suffocate us both.

"Stop it, you'll exert yourself," I implored, my voice heavy with sorrow and concern.

"And here I was thinking, it didn't matter, it didn't mean anything," He continued, his words dripping with a mix of sadness and regret. "Yet, it seems you harbored a depth of love for me, baby brother, a love that transcended the bounds of brotherly affection." My eyes locked onto his, and I saw a flicker of discomfort in his gaze, a fleeting glimpse of the turmoil that churned within him.

He seemed to squirm in his chair, his body tense and rigid, as if the weight of his emotions was crushing him. I felt my own discomfort grow, my heart racing with every word, every gesture. He was a powder keg of emotions, ready to explode at any moment.

"I-" I started to speak, but he cut me off, his words tumbling out in a torrent of pain and anger.

"My skin crawls with the memory of your touch. It's as if insects burrow beneath my flesh, a constant reminder of the happiness we once shared. I've known no peace, no respite from the agony that gnaws at my soul. I'm trapped in a living hell, tormented by the ghosts of our past." His voice was a raw, anguished cry, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that left me breathless.

He surged to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor like a scream, and slammed his fist on the table, making me flinch in terror. The sound echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the turmoil that ravaged his soul. His eyes burned with a fierce, unbridled passion, a mix of love, hate, and despair that left me shaken to the core.

"Yet, I'm consumed by the nagging thought: did I inadvertently lead you on? The very notion sears my tongue, a burning regret that refuses to be silenced. I'm tormented by the possibility that my actions, my words, may have inadvertently fostered your feelings. Oh, the agony of uncertainty! I replay every moment, every glance, every whispered promise, searching for the elusive answer. When did the lines become blurred? When did our bond of brotherhood become distorted by unrequited love?"

His hands grasped the table, his knuckles white with tension, as if the wood was the only anchor keeping him upright. His body swayed precariously, like a leaf torn from its branch, helpless against the tempests of his emotions. Exhaustion etched deep lines on his face, his eyes sunken, his skin pale as alabaster.

My heart went out to him, aching with compassion. I yearned to reach out, to offer a comforting embrace, but feared rejection. My arm trembled, suspended in mid-air, as I wrestled with the desire to console him.

"It was of my own accord, you hadn't done anything," I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. "Nothing you said or did made me feel this way. This was all on me, Melus, never you." The words tumbled out, a desperate plea to absolve him of any guilt, to shield him from the anguish that ravaged his soul. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill forth like a torrent, as I beheld the shattered remnants of our bond.

"Seriously, Simon? My heart bleeds for him, after what you did? Pushing him down the stairs like a ragdoll, without a care for his well-being? And if he had succumbed to his injuries, would you have lived with the weight of his blood on your hands? Would you have reconciled yourself to being his killer?"

His words slurred together, a testament to his fragile state, as he swayed like a reed in the wind, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unbridled anger. Yet, despite the animosity radiating from him, my instincts screamed at me to reach out, to envelop him in a comforting embrace, to assuage the pain that ravaged his very essence.

"I'm consumed by regret, Melus," I implored, my voice cracking under the weight of my sorrow. "My actions were misguided, born of a misplaced anger. Please, for the love we once shared, let me help you. Sit down, dear brother, and let us weather this tempest together."

I extended a trembling hand, a gesture of peace, of solidarity, but he recoiled, his eyes flashing with revulsion. "Don't dare touch me, Evan!" he spat, his voice low and menacing. "I've never raised a hand to you, not once in all our years together. But now, I fear that if you come near, I'll shatter that record, and Simon's anger will be the least of my concerns."

My world crumbled around me as his words struck a chord deep within my soul. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, unable to find a lifeline to cling to. What could I say to repair the damage, to mend the shattered remains of our bond? But I knew I had to try, no matter how futile it seemed.

"Melus!" Simon's voice pierced the air, and I watched in anguish as Melus's gaze shifted to him, his eyes welling up with tears. Simon rushed to his side, embracing him in a warm hug, and I felt a pang of jealousy, knowing that I was the one who had driven him to this point.

I took a step back, feeling like an outsider, a trespasser in their moment of reconciliation. The voice in my head echoed "Adar, Adar, Adar," a constant reminder of my failure, my unworthiness. I knew I wasn't wanted here, that my presence only served as a painful reminder of my transgressions.

With a heavy heart, I turned and walked away, leaving the two of them to their tears and their apologies. I knew that I had to confront my own demons, to face the darkness within me that had led to this moment. And so, I vanished into the shadows, lost in a sea of regret and sorrow.

(Yes, he'll go to him. Yes there's more drama to unfold.)