text: Warnings: Mental health, Panic attack, loss of a loved one. -------- He’s in his brother’s rooms, eyes puffy and aching, throat raw, hair and robes an utter mess, when he finds the trunk. He’d been sitting on the bed, mindlessly turning the jade pendant that usually hung from his belt with it’s finely carved replica of Storm Breaker, his brother’s sword. A sword, his sword, it’s all they have, where was his body, where- Then he’d fumbled and the precious item had bounced under the bed, landing before a trunk he’d never seen before. It’s made of dark wood that shines, with finely carved protective array’s woven with preservation array’s, tucked together so seamlessly that they look more like art than the defense they are. What makes this trunk so important to him, however, are the characters carved into the trunk’s lid. Ylyndar. Ylyndar, look-, Ylander, I’ve got you-, Ylyndar, catch- Now, he sat on the floor, the small trunk before him, wondering why his brother had a trunk with his name hidden under his bed. The arrays are still active and they pulsed as he trailed the tips of his fingers over the characters, following the recessed wintersweet flowers that framed his name. Wintersweet for you, and plumb blossoms for me- There was no obvious lock or latch, but it would not open at his prodding. “Young master?” Ylyndar startled, and whipped his head towards the servant who had called him. “Young master, your father is asking if you will join him for lunch.” Ylyndar, you’ve been studying to long, I’ve brought lunch- “No.” “Of course, young master.” As he returned his gaze to the box, that is when he spotted the one odd flower. Wintersweet for you- He felt the carved plumb blossom give as he traced a petal. “And plumb blossoms for big brother.” A few more nudges and the blossom twisted, with a quiet click and a pulse of energy, the trunk’s lid popped open. He wasn’t sure where the choked whine came from as he stared at the contents of the trunk. His eyes flickered around the box, he could see his hand moving but it was clumsy, there was an odd rushing sound in his ears. His vision was wrong, warping at the edges and his chest felt like someone had reached in and was squeezing his heart and lungs. It was strange really, he could swear he’d felt like this once before, a sunny day in the pond and an unfortunate slip... Ylyndar, Ylyndar wake up, little brother you need to wake up, brother, please, bre- “-ath, young master!” Ylyndar blinked as a harsh gasp tore at his throat. The face of his personal guard swam before his eyes, the side of his face beginning to turn an alarming shade of red. “That’s it, breathe with me young master,” Ylyndar’s hand was pressed against his chest, “can you feel that? Try to match me, alright? I have you, young master, I have you.” The fabric under his hand was soft, but sturdy and warm. He could feel the movements as the other’s chest expanded and contracted and yes, yes he can follow that. He’s not sure how long they sat there, how long he quietly talked to him, only that in the end he’s incredibly tired and the sun has moved a good deal. “...Syvis?” “Yes, young master?” “I’d like to go to my rooms now.” Syvis nodded, and helped his young master stand. “wait.” “Yes?” “The trunk, have it brought there too.” “Yes, young master.” The sun had shown brightly into the room, a faint breeze bringing with it the promising kiss of winter, and the sound of brush on paper. He’d been there for hours, surrounded by books and scrolls, engrossed in his research. When the door opened without a knock he ignored it. “What a welcome.” Ylyndar whirled, eyes wide as he took in the form of his brother, travel robes still dusty and worn as he stood in the doorway. “Ascalar!” He leaped from his seat, brush flying across the room, and Ascalar laughed and caught him. “That’s better!” Ascalar said as he held Ylyndar close. With a gasp, Ylyndar pulled back, “how did it go?” “hmm? How’d what go?” “Brother.” Ylyndar whined. “It went just fine,” Ascalar laughed, “and she’s looking forward to having such an amazing brother as mine too.” “Brother!” When Ylyndar opens his eyes, he’s greeted by nothing but the feel of phantom arms and echoes of a bright laugh. He’d looked at little else the past two days after Syvis had helped him to bed. He stared, unblinking, at the ceiling as he remembered that day, the last day they’d had. ‘You should get her a gift, the festival is starting tomorrow, you should go! Get her something exotic!’ ‘Eh? Will my little brother be coming?’ ‘No no, this little brother will stay here and help with your welcome home feast!’ He’d waved goodbye as his brother had left, a demand for some hard candy making him laugh. “Young master.” Ylyndar turned away from the voice and pulled his blanket up over his head. He ignored the sounds of yesterday’s still full tray being replaced with a new one, and buried his face into his pillow. He spends another day lost in the fog of memories, his father may have come at some point but he doesn’t remember beyond a large warm hand on his back and deep rumbling words. With the night comes a storm, and he’s jolted from his thoughts by a loud crash. He forces himself to sit up, and finds the source of the sound is a window, thrown open by the wind. He scowls at it, intent on huddling back under his blanket when a sharp wind sends loose papers flying. With a curse, he scrambles gracelessly from the bed and slams the window closed with unnecessary force. As Ylyndar turns to return to his bed, his eyes land on his brother’s trunk. The next thing he knows, he’s sitting in front of the trunk once more, a candle pulled close from nearby. He watches the flickering light dance across the wood, watches the lightning flash illuminate his name, and then the trunk is open. He opens the lid much slower this time, his eyes screwed shut until he feels the weight of it leave his hand and a dull thunk as the lid falls behind the trunk. One breath, two, three, four- The first thing his eyes land on, is a small paper lotus, wrinkled and imperfect. There were piles of colorful papers on the desk, as they sat side by side. The summer breeze ruffled their hair and tugged at the colorful papers playfully. With sure motions, Ascalar had begun, ‘first, fold it from top to bottom, now open and fold right to left. Good! Now we fold the corners in one at a time-’ -’aw, don’t be silly Ylyndar, it’s perfect! I love it.’ Ylyndar swallowed hard as he placed the faded lotus to the side. He reached in again, and pulled out a pressed flower, a bright crimson peony. Ascalar’s face was flushed as he looked at the flower in his hand. ‘It’s the first bloom from mother’s garden.’ Ylyndar said. ‘How...’ ‘You’ve been collecting them every year, I’m your twin brother, of course I noticed.’ A small red pinwheel. Ascalar’s grip on Ylyndar’s wrist was firm and tight enough it would leave a bruise, his other clutched a small red pinwheel to his chest. ‘Brother, are you alright!?’ Ylyndar slowly forced himself to look away from his own dangling feet and up at Ascalar, as their eyes met Ylyndar’s eyes blurred and his lips began to wobble. ‘Brother...’ Ascalar blinked before a determined look settled hard on his face, and he shifted to wrap his legs firmly around the tree branch under him. ‘Brother’s got you, Lynlyn, and he will not let you fall.’ Ylyndar let out a small distressed hiccup as Ascalar’s other hand latched onto his wrist and he heaved for all his little body could. Ylyndar let out a squeak at the motion and, as soon as he could reach, reached out with his free arm and latched onto Ascalar, who hurriedly settled him on the branch. ‘See, brother will never let Lynlyn fall.’ Ylyndar still cried, but he was able to hug his brother when he did. A hair piece, worn and now much too small, covered in whirls and swirls. ‘Let me do your hair, big brother!’ Ylyndar said with a wide smile. Ascalar laughed, ‘since it’s your birthday, sure.’ Ylyndar let out a little cheer as he hurried to settle behind Ascalar. He worked quickly and with skill then leapt up when he was finished to grab his brother’s mirror. ‘Oh!’ Ascalar gasped as he saw the new headpiece. ‘Surprise! Happy birthday!’ A purple ribbon that had held closed a painting. Ylyndar fidgeted as he watched his brother unroll the painted scroll, revealing a landscape of fog dusted mountains. ‘Did you paint this? It’s beautiful brother.’ Ylyndar beamed. Ylyndar’s hand paused as it brushed against a long wooden box, hidden at the bottom. Carefully, he wiggled it out of the trunk. The wood is dark, it’s only decoration a lighter wood inlay of wintersweet flowers. As he slid the box open, he was surprised to find it’s contents hidden by a folded sheet of paper. As he removed it, he let out a gasp. Nestled in the box is a long green tassel, with a blue jade pendant carved into the shape of three lilies. It was beautifully made, but Ylyndar did not recognize it. He looked back to the paper, and flipped it open with his thumb. Dear Ylyndar, I’m so very proud of you. You will be the best doctor this clan has ever seen. -Ascalar It was snowing, and Ylyndar was huddled close to Ascalar, who had looked down at him in honest confusion. ‘Why would I be mad that you want to be a doctor instead of a cultivator?’ Ylyndar shrugged. Ascalar snorted, ‘you’d be a great doctor! You’re already so smart, and it’s perfect isn’t it?’ Ylyndar peeked up at him, he was grinning. ‘ I’ll do enough fighting for both of us, yeah? And, whenever I get hurt, you can make me better, it’s perfect!’ Ylyndar blinked up at him a moment before he pulled back and gave Ascalar a firm punch in the shoulder. ‘Ow! What was that for!’ He asked as he rubbed his arm. ‘You’d do better not to get hurt in the first place! I don’t ever want you as a patient! Ever, you hear me?’ Ascalar stared at him a moment before an even bigger smile broke out over his face, ‘as young master Ylyndar commands.’ ‘ack, shut up!’ It wasn’t... ‘Brother-’ It wasn’t fair... ‘-Lynlyn-’ They weren’t... ‘-it’s perfect-’ They weren’t ever meant... ‘-Ylyndar-’ He was never meant to do this alone! They were supposed to be a team! They were supposed to stand side by side! A choking pressure pushed at his throat, he managed only a small gasp and then... He screamed, loud and long, until he was hunched over the trunk. With his next breath, he let out a sob, and then another, and another, until his entire frame was shaking. Distantly, he could hear shouting, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. What was he supposed to do now? Big brother- What was he supposed to do without Ascalar? Brother please- How was he supposed to take over the clan alone? You can’t leave me- He couldn’t, he couldn’t do it, not alone, never alone- big brother, big brother I need you to come back, please, please I can’t, big brother please- There was a crash as his door exploded inwards, and a voice sent a spear through his heart. “Ylyndar!” Warm arms wrapped themselves around him and he was pulled against a familiar chest. Ylyndar was frozen as his name was repeated over and over, one hand pressed into his back, the other cradling his head. It couldn’t be... Slowly, his heart seized with disbelief, he raised his head from dirty, ragged robes. “Brother...?” The face was weary, but it still smiled, “big brother’s home.”