A Fey for Valentines Day

His Brother's Keeper

The warmth returns the moment Kael disappears into the shadows.

Alaric stands before me, golden and glowing, but there's nothing soft about his expression now. His amber eyes track the darkness where his brother had vanished, and a tight line sets his jaw. That tightness moves across his face before he turns his gaze to me.

"You danced with him twice."

It's not a question. It's an accusation. One that has me lifting my chin as I respond, "I did."

"Why?"

"Because he asked, and because I wanted to." I hold his stare, refusing to feel guilty. "I'm supposed to be finding true love, I can't do that if I only know one side of the story."

Something dark flickers in his eyes as he extends his hand, the gesture so similar to the one he'd made earlier that it feels like stepping back in time.

"Then let me show you the other side."

I hesitate slightly, my thoughts going back to Kael. My skin still remembering the cool touch of his skin against mine. But the sound of the clock's hands ticking breaks through, an eery reminder that I'm running out of time. Alaric watches me with such an intensity that it demands an answer.

So, I took his hand.

His warmth envelops me immediately, banishing the winter chill left behind by Kael's lingering presence. Alaric pulls me close, closer than he had before, and when the dance begins, that familiar feel of floating on the air in his arms returns. Only this time, there's a slight measure of urgency in his step.

"What exactly did he tell you?" Alaric asks, his voice low.

"The truth. Or at least his version of it."

"His version." A muscle in his jaw jumps. "Let me guess. Our father favors him. Our uncle sees him as the ultimate utility. He's spent his entire life in my shadow, unloved and unwanted."

"Along those lines, perhaps."

"Did he mention the part where I've spent over two centuries trying to reach him? To break the ice between us?" Alaric's hand tightens at my waist. "That every time I attempt to bridge the gap between us, he pushes me away? That I've watched him become someone I barely recognize? And that there's not a damn thing I can do about it?"

The pain in his voice is raw, unguarded, undeniable. This isn't the careful, controlled prince from our first dance. This is someone who's been carrying a weight so heavy for so long that it's starting to crush him.

"He said you try," I said quietly. "He also said that trying isn't the same as succeeding. Which... doesn't quite make sense to me. Yet, it does."

Alaric laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Of course he did. Because in Kael's mind, anything less than perfection is failure." He shakes his head, eyebrows pulled together in a frown. "Do you know what it's like, Sophia? To have a brother, a twin, someone who is essentially the other half of you that you would protect from anything that comes at them, who has convinced themselves you're their enemy?"

"No, I don't."

"It's exhausting." The word comes out soft, tired. "I was born before him, not by much, minutes really. Yet, somehow, that was enough to determine everything in our lives — who would inherit, who would rule, whose life mattered most." His eyes meet mine, and I see guilt swimming in their depths. "I didn't ask for this, any of it. I would give it all to him gladly. If I could. By the time I was old enough to understand what was happening, the way they were shaping our lives for us — our uncle had already poisoned Kael against me."

"Your uncle," I repeat. "Kael mentioned him too."

"Our father's brother. He saw an opportunity in Kael — to create a prince with Dark Fae blood, passed over for the throne, dangerous and formidable." Alaric's voice hardened. "He fed that resentment. Nurtured it. Turned my brother into a weapon, armed and ready to use at a moment's notice."

"Why would he do that?"

"If Kael and I are at war with each other, well, we're not paying attention to him and his plans, are we?" Alaric spins me through a turn, his movements sharp. "Our uncle has always wanted the throne. He can't take it directly — not without killing father, Kael, and I. For all his faults, he would never take things that far. But if he can turn us against each other? Destroy us from within? Turn brother against brother until we tear each other apart?" He laughs bitterly. "Then he has the ability to win by default."

The pieces start to click into place, suddenly making so much more sense. The two brothers, manipulated and pitched against one another since childhood. The scheming uncle pulling their strings from the shadows. The father too lost in his own grief to see what was happening within his own family.

This really is a fairy tale.

"Does Kael realize?" I ask. "I mean, does he realize your Uncle is manipulating you against one another?"

"I don't know, honestly. I've tried to tell him. Many times." His voice is heavy with defeat. "But I don't think he believes me. Or maybe he doesn't want to believe me. Maybe it's easier to hate your own brother than to accept that someone you trusted used you as a pawn in a game you didn't want to play in the first place."

We continue dancing in silence for a moment, the music soothing around us. I think about the look on Kael's face when he talked about his childhood. The pain he'd held in his eyes. The way he had said their uncle made sure he knew which brother was worth more.

"He's not wrong," I say carefully. "He feels the blame your father places on him, which is unfair. He feels the way your uncle shaped him.

"I know." The words are a whisper. "And I did nothing to stop it."

"Alaric, you were a child too. You're both right, neither of you chose this, neither of you stopped it. You were born to it." I keep my voice soft as I continue. "The question is are you both just going to accept it?"

"I am the heir. The favored son. The golden prince." His grip on my hand tightens almost painfully. "I had power, Sophia. Influence. I could have fought harder. But I was..." He trails off, shame coloring his features.

"What? You were what?"

"Relieved." The confession costs him. I see it in the slump of his shoulders. "Part of me was relieved that all that darkness, all that expectation, all that animosity— it was aimed at him instead of me. I let my brother suffer so that I didn't have to."

His honesty steals my breath. This isn't the perfect prince everyone else sees. This is a man haunted by his own failures, drowning in guilt he's never been able to shed.

"Alaric..."

"I'm not the hero Kael thinks I am," he continues, his voice rough. "I'm not even the hero I pretend to be. I'm just someone who was too afraid to fight for the person who needed me most."

I reach up, my fingers brushing his jaw the same way they'd brushed Kael's. Alaric's eyes flutter closed at the contact, a shudder running through him.

"You're not the villain either, Alaric." I say softly. "You're just dealt an impossible hand. You've done the best you could with it."

"That's a generous interpretation."

"I'm a New Yorker. We're optimistic."

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips as he opens his eyes, and for a moment — just a moment — I see past all the gold and glory to the person underneath.