Chapter One-hundred Sixty-Nine: Newest Arrival

Chapter 169

Newest Arrival

Bastien prepared some cinnamon tea for Tristan, Victor, and himself. He carried the tray out and set it on the coffee table in the living room. Bastien gazed out the large window at the patio and pool, which featured a stone waterfall. From what he could tell of this house, it was warm and inviting, like the mansions featured in Hallmark movies. Victor gazed intently at Bastien.

Victor: “After… Charlotte had Tristan…”

He began. Tristan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

Victor: “...She left around Christmas. Tristan was born in July, and she went around Christmas. She didn’t return for years until Tristan turned five or six.”

He explained. Bastien nodded and blew on his tea.

Bastien: “Mother was staying at Uncle Narcisse’s place with me.”

Victor cupped his mouth.

Victor: “And she never told me I had another son?”

He said as he started. Bastien cupped his mouth.

Bastien: “I’m sorry! Uncle Narcisse told me Tristan started the fire, and you and he died in it!”

He stammered. Victor sobbed and shook his head.

Victor: “NO! He didn’t! She did! I was in a coma for years!”

He cried. Tristan held his father close.

Victor: “Your uncle is a liar and an evil man.”

He sobbed. Bastien cupped his mouth.

Bastien: “Why would he do such a thing…?”

Victor: “To manipulate you against Tristan and me! You never knew you had a father who loved you and a big brother… If I had known about you, I would have run to the end of Reona to get you!”

He bawled. Bastien cupped his mouth and felt tears welling in his eyes.

Victor: “When she returned, she wanted to take Tristan from me and that…”

He cried loudly.

Victor: “That’s how the fire started! She mistreated him and me…”

He wept. Tristan knit his eyebrows and drew a long breath.

Bastien: “I am so sorry… I… I had no idea. Uncle Narcisse was so kind to me…”

He said as his voice trailed off.

Victor: “That man is pure evil, just like his sister!”

He bawled through hot tears.

Victor: “I missed out on so many years with my son… and even more with my other son because of those two.”

He cried into his hands. Tristan wrapped his arms around his father.

Tristan: “Why did he want to see me again? Surely, it wasn’t so we could meet… He kept you locked away in that attic.”

He said to Bastien.

Bastien: “What do you mean by ‘see you again’?”

Tristan: “He sent me taunting messages, a bouquet, and a bottle of his homemade wine with a dead caterpillar inside.”

He said as his voice trailed off. Bastien grimaced.

Tristan: “He did this under an alias, ‘Barnabas Chatrian’.”

He explained. Bastien cupped his mouth.

Bastien: “I never heard of that name or knew he did this.”

Tristan: “Did you know he crafted or commissioned someone to craft that armor for Dougal—the person who tried to rape me when I was seventeen?”

Bastien looked away.

Bastien: “No. I knew Dougal was a guest who constantly insulted my food, and Uncle Narcisse wanted me to be away from Dougal. I was granted limited time with him.”

He explained with a hint of irritation.

Tristan: “Just as well, but… this leaves me with more questions than answers.”

He looked away.

~

Tristan led Bastien to the bedroom next to his. It was a spacious, vacant bedroom with just a queen-size bed, two nightstands, and a door leading to a personal bathroom. Bastien looked around and sat on the bed. Tristan handed him a pair of orange pajamas with a plaid orange robe.

Tristan: “This is from Papa. It’s for bed. We can go shopping tomorrow to get you some clothes and anything you like to make this bedroom yours.”

He smiled at him. Bastien smiled back. He hugged Tristan. Tristan smiled and returned the hug.

Bastien: “Feels good to be hugged.”

He said as his voice trailed off.

Tristan: “I imagine…”

Kyle jumped up on his bed and raised his bushy tail.

Tristan: “Have a good night, Bastien.”

He backed away.

Bastien: “You, too, Tristan.”

He smiled at him.

Tristan left and closed the door behind him, and his smile faded.

~

Jaxon stepped out of the shower with a towel draped around his shoulders. Celeste was in bed, wearing a black tank top and black panties. He crawled into bed with her and faced her.

Jaxon: “So you came to get me.”

Celeste: “Yeah, I always do!”

She beamed.

Jaxon: “Even if it took time from Fabien and trolling?”

He asked her.

Celeste: “Yeah, Fab was safe here, and trolling can wait.”

She laughed.

Jaxon frowned.

Jaxon: “You kissed another man.”

Celeste looked away.

Celeste: “By accident, when we ate a fry.”

She said tersely.

Jaxon: “And you told me you’re spending time with him because I am still traumatized about Seashell Cove!”

He snapped. She shifted her eyes.

Celeste: “I don’t understand why. You didn’t kill Chelsea.”

Jaxon: “She died because of me!”

He hissed.

Celeste: “Well, no, Ichiro put that injection in her, and Ivy spiked my iced tea so she could get Tristan.”

She shifted her eyes.

Jaxon furrowed his eyebrows.

Jaxon: “You gave me the third degree for all of it, and you’re pushing me away now!”

He cried.

Celeste: “Well, uh, Fab has stuff that hurts him and he just lets the good times roll.”

She drawled. Jaxon rolled his eyes.

Jaxon: “Yeah? By trolling Jordi and sending that blue bitch to attack him? And faxing Craig his old pin-ups? That is NOT letting the good times roll! That’s being bitter! Jordi doesn’t owe him a friendship!”

He snapped.

Celeste: “I tried to fix it, but Fab didn’t want it. I don’t know why Jordi blew him off when Fab is so much fun!”

She said doggedly.

Jaxon: “How is he more fun?! His Bungle Server is just that blue idiot whining about NOTHING! Whenever I post something or Jordi or Tristan does, he overrides it with his whining and won’t fucking ban him! It’s the same song and dance!”

He barked. Celeste looked away.

Celeste: “What he says is funny. He acts like he has it so bad when he really doesn’t. Ashley rejected him—big deal.”

She shrugged.

Jaxon bared his teeth.

Jaxon: “You don’t get it! You’re not addressing MY feelings and avoiding the topic!”

He snapped. She reached out and tickled his neck.

Jaxon: “AHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”

He laughed and drew back.

Jaxon: “Don’t tickle me when I am trying to talk to you!”

He knit his eyebrows.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. Jaxon sighed as his eyelids dipped. He inhaled sharply and wrapped his arms around her.

~

Tristan stepped out of the shower. He wore his white silk pajamas with “Tristan” embroidered in silver on the left breast pocket. He sat at his dresser brushing his long, white hair. Someone knocked on the door.

Tristan: “Come in.”

Victor entered Tristan’s room and strolled to his couch to sit down.

Tristan: “Yes, Papa?”

He asked.

Victor: “Tristan, I don’t mean to intrude, but I overheard the argument you and Deimos had earlier.”

Tristan stopped brushing his hair. Victor pursed his lips.

Victor: “So you didn’t tell him you used your ice powers to… shove Charlotte into the fire to save me?”

He asked with strain.

Tristan: “Because I dislike discussing this… and I hate remembering it. This is why I have insomnia, Papa.”

He sighed and folded his hands over.

Tristan: “I didn’t want to use them again until I could control them.”

He hung his head.

Victor: “You should tell him.”

Tristan: “Papa, this doesn’t concern you, and Deimos overreacts to everything. He takes his insecurities out on everyone else and makes it into a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

Victor: “Well, Charlotte and Narcisse kept Bastien from us for years.”

He cried. Tristan turned to his father with a cold glare.

Tristan: “Me keeping this from Deimos and others is NOT the same as what those two wastrels did.”

He hissed.

Victor embraced himself and sobbed. Tristan hung his head.

Tristan: “Papa, I feel I can’t confide in Deimos because he overreacts to everything and takes exception to everything. This is not the same as holding Bastien prisoner for years! This event traumatized me!”

He said with hurt in his tone. Victor knit his eyebrows and rose to hug his son.

Victor: “I’m sorry, Tristan…”

He cried. Tristan hugged him back.

~

Deimos stepped out of the shower wearing a gray tank top and blue plaid pajama bottoms. He flopped onto his bed and gazed up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Why didn’t Tristan tell me this? Why did he go to camp if he already had powers? Why didn’t he use them on Dougal when he was attacking him? He wondered.

He heard a knock on his doorframe. Deimos turned his head to see Lazaros, and he scowled.

Deimos: “The fuck do you want?”

Lazaros beamed.

Lazaros: “You like horror, right, Deimos?”

He clasped his hands together.

Deimos: “Yeah, I did for years and still do. Glad you retained that.”

He said dryly. Lazaros nodded.

Lazaros: “Well, I have a scary story for you.”

He beamed. Deimos gaped at him.

Lazaros: “Hear me out: the dining room table was filled to the brim with my delicious cooking… and Ashley wouldn’t eat any of it, opting to eat Voyage Burger!”

He nodded.

Lazaros: “I had that nightmare and I woke up unable to breathe and in a cold sweat!”

Deimos rose from his bed.

Deimos: “You fucking idiot! How is THAT scary?! Do you honestly think I give a flying fuck what Ashley eats or doesn’t eat?!”

He rasped.

Deimos: “You watch them eat and eat and just ignore the fucking nursery Mommie Dearest left up for years and then died because she didn’t want to admit what she did! Learn to live in reality some time, Lazaros!”

He bellowed. Lazaros’ bottom lip trembled.

Lazaros: “I thought it was scary, and if Ashley heard you say that, their feelings would be VERY hurt right now!”

He cried.

Deimos: “Get the fuck out of my house, Lazaros. You could have used this time to stuff Ashley instead of wasting it on me because I am done with you.”

He flared hotly. Lazaros embraced himself and sobbed. He ran down the hall and out of the house in tears.

Deimos sat on his bed. Idiot, he thought. He then looked over at the picture of himself and Tristan on his nightstand and sighed.

~

Jordi drove into his driveway and parked his car. He leaned back into his seat, inhaling sharply. Two hours of intense tickling and passing out, he thought as his tummy and feet still tingled. He climbed out of his car, holding a bag containing his new work uniform in his hand, and walked into his house. He knelt and unzipped his boots, pulling his feet out, revealing his tears in his sheer socks. He pulled them off and tossed them into the kitchen bin.

He went into his bedroom, hung up his new work uniform, and began undressing.

~

After Jordi showered, he stepped out wearing his purple silk pajamas. He gazed at his fish and opened the lid of the tank to shake some food in for them. He glanced at his work uniform in his closet. Hey, she’s giving me a few days’ paid vacation, he thought.

His cell phone rang. He sighed and went to answer it.

Jordi: “Hello?”

He ran his fingers through his hair.

Gina: “Jordi! It’s nice to hear your voice! Are you home?”

Jordi paused.

Jordi: “Yes, I’m home now.”

He sighed and climbed into bed.

Gina: “I want you to come to my house tomorrow to have dinner! My parents want you there, and my aunt and uncle want to meet you! My little cousin, Priscilla, will also be there! My aunt and uncle live with us, but they’re away on vacation!”

She giggled. Jordi forced a smile.

Jordi: “I should meet your entire family, and maybe stand in at your sister’s wedding.”

He said dryly.

Gina: “YES, but Savina won’t allow that! It has to be perfect, and she doesn’t want my boyfriend standing in!”

Jordi inhaled sharply when she called him her boyfriend.

Jordi: “I’ll be there.”

He said through clenched teeth.

Gina: “All right, Jordi-kins!”

Jordi felt his soul leave his body when she called him that.

~

Narcisse paced around his dungeon. Amanda locked her gaze on him. Narcisse marched to her and delivered a slap to her face, followed by another. Amanda barely flinched.

Narcisse: “How could you let my precious Bastien out of my care?!”

He snapped and stomped his feet.

Amanda: “I am sorry, sir, we’re going to get him back.”

She nodded. Narcisse removed his glasses and wept.

Narcisse: “Oh, he was Charlotte’s pride and joy! We have to get him back! WE HAVE TO GET HIM BACK!”

He cried and turned to Dougal, who was still unconscious, clutching onto Jordi’s suit jacket.

Narcisse: “Hit that fat fuck! He ruined it!”

He commanded as his trembling forefinger pointed to Dougal.

Amanda: “Okay.”

She marched over to Dougal and delivered two powerful kicks to him to knock the wind out of him.

Amanda: “Bad, bad Dougal!”

She chided him. Narcisse smiled a bit.

He sauntered into the room where the hyperbaric chamber was kept. He gazed into the window, teary-eyed.

Narcisse: “I am so sorry, we’ll get him back…”

Amanda strolled in. Narcisse turned to her.

Narcisse: “Can you carry me to bed? And tuck me in?”

His bottom lip trembled.

~

Amanda carried Narcisse upstairs and into his bedroom. She brought him into a dramatic, opulent bedroom designed in a style that blended Gothic architecture with luxurious, romantic furnishings.

It had soaring ceilings with dark, ribbed vaulting and exposed stone, giving the room a cavernous, imposing feel. A massive, arched window dominated the left side, featuring intricate tracery glass. The walls were made of dark, rough-hewn stone, and the wooden floorboards looked worn with a deep patina.

The lighting was primarily warm, golden candlelight, which cast deep shadows and dramatically highlighted the rich textures.

In the center of the room, against the wall, was a central four-poster bed draped in heavy, sumptuous, deep-red velvet curtains that were pulled back to frame the golden headboard. The bedding was equally luxurious, featuring a thick, textured burgundy comforter and several dark, patterned pillows.

A large, multi-tiered crystal chandelier hung directly over the bed, contributing to the room’s old-world opulence.

A large patterned area rug in shades of deep red, burgundy, and tan covered a significant portion of the floor, anchoring the bed and adding another layer of texture and color.

Various candelabras and individual candlesticks were placed around the room—on the windowsill, on a desk to the left, and on a bedside table to the right. On the right, a dark, ornate mirror with an antique frame reflected the candlelight.

Amanda sat him on the bed and started to undress him. She then put a white nightshirt over him and a white nightcap on his bed. She pulled the sheets off and tucked him into bed. She took his glasses off for him and set them on the nightstand. Narcisse smiled sadly.

Narcisse: “Thank you for your kindness, my dear.”

He patted her hand.

Narcisse: “I want my precious Bastien back, but…”

He paused.

Narcisse: “Tristan looks like my dear Charlotte… He does something to me I never thought I could ever feel again after that fire claimed my darling sister… My groin burns for him. I hate him, but I want him.”

His cheeks flushed bright pink, and he felt a tightness in his underwear.

~

The next morning, Victor sat in the living room across from Honorine. He informed her of Bastien’s arrival and everything that transpired. She sipped her tea and set it in its cup and saucer. The two conversed in French.

Honorine: “Very well, we will conduct a DNA test to ensure he is your son.”

She said evenly. Victor gaped at her.

Victor: “Why would we need to do that? Look at him! He looks like me!”

He cried. Honorine sighed and clasped her hand over her forehead.

Honorine: “To make sure he is in fact yours and this isn’t another ploy cooked up by your brother-in-law, Victor!”

She said sharply. Victor’s bottom lip trembled.

Victor: “So you’re going to traumatize him more to prove something we already know?!”

He bawled. Honorine rolled her eyes.

Honorine: “The process is harmless, Victor. It’s a matter of taking a swab from his cheek and yours. I don’t want to welcome someone Narcisse sent into my home without proof he is your son and my grandson!”

She explained harshly. Victor curled into a ball and cried.

Victor: “You don’t care about my feelings! No one does!”

He sobbed.

Honorine: “Victor, it’s NOT you I mistrust; it’s Narcisse! Does that man seem like someone you can trust? The very man who had an infatuation with his own sister and very likely murdered his own parents!”

She said gruffly. Victor wailed loudly.

Tristan sat on the stairs leading to the pedway listening on. He wore a light blue polo shirt, dark blue shorts, and dark blue slip-on vans. He heard Bastien stroll up to him. Tristan turned to face him. Bastien wore a tan button-up shirt with a brown cardigan over it, dark brown pants, and brown loafers.

Bastien: “Morning, Tristan.”

He smiled at him and descended the stairs.

Bastien cupped his mouth when he saw his father crying. He rushed to him.

Bastien: “What’s wrong, Father?”

He asked and wrapped his arms around his father. Honorine clicked her tongue.

Honorine: “Please do not take exception to this, but I wish to conduct a DNA test on you to prove you’re indeed a Trémaux and my grandson. It’s not a slight against you, but I do not trust Narcisse.”

Bastien nodded.

Bastien: “Grandmother just wishes to take precaution.”

He reassured him.

Victor: “All we need to do is look at you! Just look at you!”

He sobbed.

Bastien: “I know, Father, but grandmother wants to prove it.”

Honorine nodded in approval.

Honorine: “I am glad you see it from my perspective.”

Victor wrenched himself away from Bastien.

Victor: “YOU DON’T CARE! YOU JUST DON’T CARE!”

He bawled and ran up the stairs, and past Tristan into his bedroom, where he slammed the door.

Honorine heaved a deep sigh.

Honorine: “Well, if you’re going to become a member of this house, be prepared for Victor’s bouts of tantrums.”

She sipped her tea. Bastien hung his head.

~

Victor sobbed in his bedroom as he held Francis close. Tristan opened the door and entered his bedroom. He sat on his bed.

Victor: “I guess you agree with Mother, too!”

He bawled. Tristan sighed.

Tristan: “No, Papa, I don’t, but you know she likes to prove things with facts, and she never goes on theories or hunches. I know he’s my brother; you know he’s your son. She just… doesn’t trust Narcisse.”

He drew a long breath.

Victor: “It’s nothing to do with him.”

He wept.

Tristan: “He kept him locked away. Why would Bastien be scamming us? I understand you, Papa, and I agree with you, but you know how Grandmother is. If you want her to warm up to Bastien, you have to play by her rules.”

He sighed.

Victor: “NO! I DON’T NEED TO DO THAT! I AM SICK OF PEOPLE NOT LISTENING TO ME!”

He screamed.

Tristan: “Papa, she never… listened to anyone. Why are you acting as if this is a foreign concept?”

He challenged. Victor looked away and pouted.

Tristan: “Look, the process is noninvasive. It’s just to placate grandmother, and so we can live together in harmony as much as we can. I disagree with her myself, but she’s not going to listen to theories or hunches.”

He explained.

Victor: “NO!”

He cried.

Tristan: “I guess grandmother isn’t the only stubborn one.”

He huffed.

Victor: “I am not being stubborn, you are!”

He pouted. Tristan hung his head, hating it when his father got in these moods.

~

Tristan went down to the kitchen where Bastien was preparing breakfast. He smiled at Tristan.

Bastien: “How is Father? Is he feeling better?”

He asked him. Tristan sighed and shook his head.

Tristan: “No.”

He sat down at the island. Bastien scooped the loose-leaf tea into the infuser and placed it into a teacup with hot water and two packets of sugar.

Bastien: “This tea is ‘orchid vanilla.’ It’s another special blend I created and is very robust in caffeine.”

He smiled. Tristan returned the smile.

Tristan: “Thank you, Bastien.”

After the tea steeped, Bastien removed the infuser and took it to the sink to clean up. Tristan blew on his tea.

Tristan: “So, I prepared for the chauffeur to take you, Papa, and me to Pink Flamingo Mall to get you some new clothes.”

Bastien clasped his hands over.

Bastien: “That’d be lovely, but what about my car back in Clerteaux?”

Tristan beamed.

Tristan: “Why on Reona would you want that?”

Bastien: “It’s how I get to the grocery store when I am low on meat or pantry items, or whenever Narcisse wants me to drive him places when Amanda isn’t around. Narcisse doesn’t drive because he feels too evolved for that.”

He waved his hand. Tristan’s right eye twitched.

Tristan: “...I see! Well, you’re turning over a new leaf, Bastien.”

Bastien: “Why am I turning over a new leaf? Do you want me to grow one for you?”

He smiled. Tristan drew a breath.

Tristan: “No, it means you’re starting over here with Papa and me.”

He sipped on his tea and raised his eyebrows at the pleasant taste.

Bastien: “Well, I would like a car that can hold a lot of bags of groceries and any essentials we may need.”

He explained.

Tristan: “We get our groceries delivered.”

Bastien: “No, I don’t want that done. I like to pick my own meat to ensure freshness, size, and quality. I don’t want others doing that for me.”

He said firmly. Tristan sighed.

Tristan: “I’m trying to make things more convenient for you.”

Bastien: “It’s not. I am preparing your meals for you, Father, and our grandparents. I want to make sure I make you a quality meal.”

He nodded. Tristan glared at him and sipped his tea.

~

A white limo pulled up to the Pink Flamingo Mall. A white woman in a chauffeur’s uniform stepped out to let Victor, Bastien, and Tristan out. Bastien’s eyes were like saucers when he gazed at the giant mall standing before him. They entered the mall, and Bastien gazed intently at the large water fountain.

Victor: “Toss a coin in and make a wish.”

He whispered to Bastien. Bastien reached into his pocket and tossed a coin.

Victor: “What did you wish for?”

Bastien: “New kitchen supplies.”

He smiled. Victor smiled and kissed his temple. Tristan flicked his gaze to them and looked away.

~

After Bastien tried on several outfits, Victor bought and paid for them. The three men settled into the food court, where they sat to eat ramen. Bastien and Victor ate with chopsticks, and Tristan used a fork.

Victor: “You look so much like me, Bastien.”

He smiled. Bastien smiled tightly.

Victor: “It’s nice to have someone look like me.”

He sighed. Tristan looked hurt and recalled Narcisse ogling him and telling him how he looked like… that thing.

Bastien: “I’d like to decorate my room as it is in Clerteaux. Fortunately, the bed is still the same size.”

He nodded.

Bastien thrust noodles into his mouth and slurped them. Tristan shuddered and twitched. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Tristan: “Bastien, would you please refrain from slurping? It bothers me.”

He said firmly. Bastien gazed at Tristan and smiled.

Bastien: “I apologize, Tristan.”

He said genially. Tristan smiled a bit.

Bastien: “You sound like Uncle Narcisse and Mother. They also hate that.”

He chuckled. Tristan’s face contorted into a sneer. He shoved his ramen away, rose, and marched off.

Victor watched him go and started crying.

Victor: “He always does this.”

He sobbed. Bastien patted his back.

Bastien: “No, Father, I shouldn’t have upset him like that. I dealt with it when Mother and Uncle Narcisse were upset, too.”

He reassured him.

~

Tristan was in the bookstore looking through the various rows of fantasy novels. He heard Bastien clear his throat. He turned to face him.

Bastien: “Tristan, I apologize for what I did and said back there.”

He began.

Bastien: “It’s going to take getting used to bringing up Mother to you.”

He said gently.

Tristan: “That thing is not my mother.”

He said sharply. Bastien bowed his head.

Bastien: “I don’t want to upset you, Tristan.”

Tristan drew a long breath.

Tristan: “Think nothing of it…”

He said as his voice trailed away.

Bastien hugged his brother. Tristan’s eyes widened, and his expression softened. Tristan hugged him back.

~

When they returned home, Bastien started putting away the kitchen utensils he purchased. Victor marched down the hall and kicked the door open to his mother’s study. Honorine sat at her desk, working on her papers. Victor slammed a photo he had taken of himself, Bastien, and Tristan at the small. Honorine slowly raised her eyes at her son and then at the photograph. It was Victor between his two sons, with his arms around them. Victor’s smile lit up the room, Bastien had a warm smile, and Tristan smiled slightly.

Honorine: “He does look a lot like you…”

She admitted. Victor folded his arms across his chest and pouted.

Honorine: “Whereas Tristan, unfortunately, looks like Charlotte.”

She said stiffly.

Honorine: “I don’t know what you ever saw in that woman…”

She whispered hoarsely. Victor looked away.

Honorine: “Bastien agrees with me about the DNA test, and my mind is made up, Victor.”

She declared. Victor cried loudly and leaned against the wall as he sobbed.

Tristan stood outside the office, glaring, and marched away.

~

Deimos was in his backyard practicing his karate. He wore his white karate gi with a black belt around his waist. Monica stepped out and cleared her throat.

Monica: “Deimos?”

Deimos stopped and turned to her.

Monica: “Tristan is here to see you.”

She smiled warmly. Tristan stepped out. Deimos looked away. Monica went back into the house to give the two some privacy.

Tristan: “Are you still angry with me for not wanting to discuss something that traumatized me?”

He asked sharply.

Deimos: “You made me face that fucking nursery!”

He rasped. Tristan glared at him.

Tristan: “Excuse me? You did that on your own, Deimos! I never made you do anything! I wanted you to face yourself and your problems! Why do you always punish me when you’re fragile masculinity comes under attack?”

He challenged him. Deimos jerked back as if he had struck him hard.

Deimos: “What does this have to do with my masculinity?!”

He snapped.

Tristan: “Everything. You always want to be better than me, so you can take care of me and coddle me! Lazaros does this with Ashley. I am not going to tell Ashley what to do, but I suppose when the other option is Blair, anything looks good.”

He rolled his eyes.

Deimos: “Lazaros is a fucking idiot. I am hardly comparable!”

He fired back.

Tristan: “Well, that is what you want with me, isn’t it? You’re upset your powers are not destructive like mine, you don’t make more money than I do, and I don’t always agree with you.”

He said coolly.

Deimos: “I just want to protect you, Tristan, but you won’t let me!”

He barked.

Tristan: “What, you stabbing Dougal to pry him off me when he tried to rape me wasn’t that?! Or breaking Narcisse’s jaw?! Or the many times you healed me?!”

He fired back, his tone as harsh as his. Deimos looked away.

Tristan: “When you get in these bouts of rage, you fail to see the forest for the trees!”

He snapped.

Deimos: “Why didn’t you use your powers to get Dougal off you?”

Tristan hung his head.

Tristan: “Because I didn’t want to do to you what I did to Papa!”

He cried.

Tristan: “My powers were not always in control! I put him in a coma!”

He removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. Deimos knit his eyebrows.

Tristan: “Yes, I used my ice to shove that thing into the fire, but the ice also hit Papa and knocked him into that coma he was in for years.”

He sobbed and embraced himself. Deimos held Tristan close. Tristan hugged him and sobbed as he was held in Deimos’ big, strong arms.

~

Tristan lay on Deimos’ chest in the lounge on his patio.

Deimos: “Do you recall when you had your first injection then?”

Tristan shook his head.

Tristan: “No, I do not. I did get a series of injections when I went to the camp. I did it to encourage you because I knew you wouldn’t have done it if I backed out, and I wondered if it would help control my powers.”

He explained. Deimos looked away and couldn’t disagree with him.

Deimos: “Did it?”

Tristan: “It seems to have.”

He nodded.

Deimos: “That god project that fat idiot found in Narcisse’s mansion… Think Bastien is one of those babies?”

Tristan paused.

Tristan: “I doubt it. His powers are on par with Ashley’s powers to grow herbs, vegetables, and flowers, and Ashley’s powers are not powerful.”

He explained.

Deimos: “I wondered if that’s why Narcisse wanted him guarded.”

Tristan wagged his head.

Tristan: “No, I doubt that. I think it’s because Bastien was that thing’s favorite and Narcisse has a thing for it… or had.”

He rolled his eyes.

Tristan: “And now he will become Papa’s favorite.”

His eyelids dipped.

Deimos: “Why do you say that?”

Tristan: “I can read between the lines. He raves about how Bastien looks like him, and Bastien says the right thing to him.”

He replied with a hint of bitterness.

Deimos: “Welcome to my world where my younger brother by ten minutes is the favorite, and he’s a whiny fucking crybaby.”

He huffed.

Deimos: “If anyone can understand that, it’s me.”

He grumbled.

Tristan: “I don’t think he’s a whiner as Lazaros is… but he’s too stuck with the familiar, doesn’t read between the lines, and insists on doing stuff the traditional way. For example, he likes to pick up his own meat to ensure the size, freshness, and quality.”

He explained.

Deimos: “Yeah, Lazaros isn’t like that, but when it comes to stuffing Ashley’s face, he wants us all to watch that and give them plenty of tummy rubs.”

He rolled his eyes.

Deimos: “Yeah, Ashley picked him because it was him or Blair, and I hate to say Lazaros is honestly the lesser of the two evils. Blair is more annoying than dog shit in your yard.”

He said acidly. Tristan raised his head to look at him and smiled.

Deimos locked his gaze on Tristan and raked his fingers through his hair.

Deimos: “I’m sorry, Tristan. I’m trying to be a better man for you.”

He said tenderly. He took Tristan’s hand and kissed it.

Tristan: “Thank you, Deimos, you are forgiven.”

He whispered, and the two shared a deep kiss.