Alex was pretty sure he had never had a single conversation with his grandfather.
He had met him plenty of times. Been in the same room or at least the same vicinity. They technically lived in the same house, but they never really seemed to run into each other in the halls or outside of scheduled events. Alex remembered one time he had been out on the archery range with Ferdinand Lugo and his grandfather had been walking by with a big group of people. He had stopped at a distance to watch him practice for a minute, which just made him nervous enough for Ferdinand to chew out his form. Even he relented when he noticed Alistair and the group though. Having to work under the watchful eye of Alistair Conrad was enough to make even the most skilled athlete fumble.
Alex was sure that even if you didn't know who Alistair was, how much power and wealth he was the pinnacle of, you would be terrified of the man. His resting expression was hard and callous. He rarely provided any reason to think that his disposition was different. He had an age-worn face and blue eyes that looked like they were made of glass. His white hair was always neatly combed, his face always clean-shaven, and his suits always pressed. There was never a piece of him out of place, and he expected the same of everyone around him. Meeting those expectations was never rewarded either. Why praise what he saw as the bare minimum after all?
Alex was sure his grandfather hated him. At first, it may have just been racism. He was probably the least thrilled of all the Conrads that he had to marry off his successor to quell a scandal he didn't feel bad about in the first place. Even more so than Alex's mother. He was ambivalent about Alex's existence from the start. He probably even took Alex's poor health as an infant as a sign. In time his disposition shifted towards actively malicious. When he was six, he remembered overhearing a conversation between his mother and grandfather. They weren't even somewhere that private, just off to the side at a garden party. He either assumed Alex was too young to understand or remember the conversation, or he didn't care if he did.
"When are you going to have another child?" he was asking Margaret. "You can't possibly be okay with the prospect of that being the future of this family."
"Of course, I'm not," his mother answered without hesitation. "He's too much like his father."
"Joshi spends too much time with him. Coddles him."
"I know. It's bizarre. What does he think the nannies are for?"
"You'll have to keep him away from your next one."
"... And if we have no more children? Do you think Alexander could be salvaged?"
"I suppose it's not impossible, but why would you want to waste your efforts when you could start fresh?"
"There's been... difficulties."
The way that Alex's mother said that and the expression on her face prompted Alistair to lead them away from the party to have an actual private conversation.
Salvaged. That was a lovely way to put the way his mother treated him. Changed from someone who cared into someone cold. Fashioned into someone who could wield his position rather than feel weighed down by it. Have all his timidness and empathy and individuality broken down until he was able to act just like the rest of them.
Salvaged into a real Conrad.
Alex tried to be glad he was an only child. He saw the way his mother was with her siblings. They all hated each other. They had been raised to hate each other. To see each other as competitors for the crown of the head of the family. Alex didn't want to have that kind of relationship with his siblings. But the alternative meant that he was the sole focus of his mother's expectations. She had no other options for her successor, so she placed everything on him. If he had siblings, she would just focus on them when he screwed up. Leave him alone with the way he was. Without them, every time he screwed up her only option was to come down harder on him. Put even more of her time and effort into scrubbing out all the things she thought were causing problems.
Of course, there were pitfalls with that model too. Jack's parents ignored him because he had three older brothers and a younger sister. It meant he could get away with a lot more, but it also left him feeling estranged from them. Made it obvious that they only cared about him as long as they thought he was useful to them.
Alex tried not to wish that was the way it was with his mother. He saw how much Jack was bothered by his lot. It was painfully obvious that there was never any way to win with their families. When every other person in your life is playing some mad power game, something is always lost. Something too hard to get back once it's gone.
Alistair stopped being hostile after whatever conversation he had with Margaret that day, but he didn't exactly warm up either. It seemed like he was begrudgingly accepting that Alex was the one who would run the family one day, but he was leaving his daughter in charge of getting him up to snuff by then.
"You know granddad told me that if he had known how much of a cock up you would be," Laurent had said to Alex once while they were in their maths lesson, "he would have picked my dad to be his successor. He would much rather me or my sister be in line than you."
Alex had wanted to ignore him. He told himself that he didn't care that his grandfather hated him. That almost everyone in his family did. Why would he want to be liked by such objectively horrid people?
You're different from us, Sean had said. You're different from us and that's a fucking good thing.
Despite hearing Sean's words and knowing at some level that he was right, Alex couldn't stop himself from shaking at Laurent's words. Couldn't stop the sting in his eyes at the reminder that he didn't even belong in the one place he was supposed to.
Before he could do anything to embarrass himself, Jack scooted his chair from where it had been at the desk to Alex's left so that he was pressed right up next to him. Without saying a word, he extended his long leg out behind Alex's chair until it reached Laurent's, then kicked so hard that Laurent's chair went sideways and he fell onto the floor with a crash.
The teacher had been writing practice problems on the board with his back turned, but spun around at the noise. By the time he turned, though, Jack was already back behind his desk and all he saw was Laurent on the floor.
"Mr. Conrad, are you alright?" he said, clearly stopping himself from chiding the disruption when he saw who had caused it.
"What the hell?" Laurent said, glaring at Jack. Jack just looked at him with an eyebrow raised. A silent challenge. Laurent immediately withered.
"Mr. Conrad?"
"Sorry," Laurent muttered as he fixed his chair and sat down, looking at his desk so fewer people could see his red face. "Faulty desk chair."
Jack snickered as the teacher went back to writing problems and Laurent took too much interest in writing them down. Alex looked over at Jack with wide eyes. They had been getting along better in a couple of years since their little heart-to-heart in the stables, but Alex wouldn't have thought he would do something like that for his benefit. He was about to tell himself Jack probably only did that to amuse himself, but Jack caught his gaze and winked.
All the rotten thoughts about himself that Laurent conjured up vanished in an instant. Maybe from the shock of realizing what Jack had done, but maybe there was something else too. After so many years spent ganging up on him with his cousins, Jack was on his side now. They weren't just unwilling flatmates or overgrown field trip buddies anymore. They were friends. Tenuous ones for the moment, sure, but it was a meaningful start.
After that Jack was not only on better behaviour for Alex's sake but threw his Farrow weight around to keep most of his cousins off his case. Especially Laurent and Julia. They still got their jabs in when Jack wasn't around, but it at least made all the social events slightly more bearable.
The Farrows always showed up at the estate the day before Alistair's party, so they could have a more private night with the Conrads. Alex knew he should have known all their names by now, but it was hard enough keeping track of his own family, and every year it felt like there were more. The only ones he managed to keep straight were Jack's parents and siblings. He could usually get away with not knowing the other's names anyways. They liked it when you called them sir or ma'am.
Alex and his family were all standing outside the house to greet them when they started to arrive in their cars. He was wedged in between his mother and grandfather, which made the buttoned-up collar he had been forced into feel even tighter as they waited. The first car was the most extravagant, an antique black and white Rolls Royce. It was only big enough to fit three in the back bench, and when it rolled to a stop one of the estate's staff opened the door, and out stepped Basil Farrow, his wife Naomi, and their third oldest son Mikhail.
"Welcome, Basil," Alistair said, extending his hand.
"You look well, Alistair," Basil said as he took it. "As do you, Margaret."
Alex tried to look like he was paying attention to them exchanging pleasantries, doing his best to keep himself from focusing on the line of cars that were still making their way up the driveway.
Please let Jack be in the next car.
"-has been a lot more manageable lately," Basil Farrow was saying. "I don't know how he managed it, but it's damn impressive."
Alex had only been half listening, but he was jolted back into the conversation when his mother put her around his shoulder. It was more shocking than if she would have smacked him.
"Thank you, sir," Alex said, only because his mother was looking down at him in a way that made him guess that's what she wanted him to say. He tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when they both nodded in a way that confirmed his guess.
"Mikhail has become a fine young man," Alistair continued, "Congratulations on Columbia, lad."
"Thank you, sir," Mikhail said, though you wouldn't know he was thankful based on his expression.
Jack looked like his mother, Naomi. She was the second daughter of one of Italy's most influential old families. Jack had her soft black hair and dark brown eyes, her long lashes, and mole-speckled skin. Alex had never interacted with her much, but she gave off a regal yet still approachable air.
Jack's brothers looked a bit more like his father, and none more than Mikhail. He had Basil Farrow's dark green eyes and wavy hair so blonde it was almost white. He even kept it in a similar style, windswept but in a meticulous way. He had the same flawless white skin, though Basil's had been marked by age slightly. He had the same cold demeanour and flat way of speaking. Even when he gave compliments it had a way of making you feel like you'd done something wrong.
The next car to pull up was a slightly more modern Jaguar, but Jack wasn't inside that one either. His two other older brothers, Ronin and Henry, came out instead. They were joined by a young woman Alex was sure he had seen before, but he couldn't remember what her name was or what her relationship with Jack was. It wasn't until Ronin put his arm around her waist that he finally recalled where it was that he had seen her. Of course, it was her wedding. She was Ronin's wife. The name still escaped him though.
Henry was the oldest of the bunch, but it had been clear for a while that he wasn't going to be Basil's pick for taking over as head of the Farrow family. Being the oldest was never a guarantee. Thomas had been the oldest Conrad sibling after all.
Before Jack came along Henry was probably the least refined Farrow brother. He was charming and proper enough, sure, but responsibilities and commitment made him itchy. He had been in talks to marry several different girls throughout his life, but something always prevented any of them from becoming official. Alex had a feeling at some point in his teenage years his parents figured he might be best off as an eternal bachelor.
It was then a competition between Ronin and Mikhail for a while. Even though Ronin had three years on him, Mikhail always seemed to manage to do one better than him at every turn. Just a little smarter. A bit more athletic. A touch was more charming at the right times. More callous when that's what was needed.
Alex had a feeling part of the reason Jack never had any aspirations to get his name in the running was that his brothers scared him away from it. Scared him away with how the two were always at each other throats. Scared him away with their daunting lists of accomplishments. Scared him with how much of their lives revolved around trying to win their father's favour. Sometimes Alex would catch Ronin staring down Mikhail like he was trying to calculate the easiest way to kill him without anyone even suspecting foul play.
Nothing ever made Alex feel luckier that he had no siblings than when he saw Jack's brothers in the same room with each other.
"-Penelope, you look lovely," Alistair was saying to Ronin's wife. Ah, yes. Penelope Montreal. That was her name.
Alex was sure he was going to fall asleep where he stood before Jack would finally emerge from one of those clown cars, but when the third car was still rolling down the driveway, one of the doors to the rear seat popped open. Jack stumbled out of the still-moving vehicle and came barreling down the path, straight into Alex.
"She's trying to kill me, Al," he said, his eyes wide and his voice panicked. He grabbed Alex tightly by the shoulders and shook him roughly. "I thought I was never going to make it out of there alive."
It took all of Alex's effort not to fall over from the force of the impact. He was at least thankful that Jack disoriented him so much that he couldn't register the glare Basil was giving his youngest son at the moment. Even if it wasn't directed at him Alex probably would have combusted just from seeing it. Once Jack stopped shaking him enough for him to get his bearings, the only thing he was able to focus on was his friend's new ridiculous haircut.
"What happened to your head?" he asked before he could think about whether or not he should.
Jack's panicked expression vanished and was replaced with a cheeky one. "You like it?" He touched his newly formed mohawk, slightly uneven in some places. The texture of his hair left it sticking up at odd angles as it ran down his head.
"You look like a horse."
"Funny, that's what I said," Basil commented as Henry suppressed a grin. Ronin and Mikhail just frowned in disapproval. Jack returned them with a mocking frown of his own.
"What were you shouting about?" Jack's mother asked.
Jack let go of Alex briefly to turn and point at the car he had escaped from. Once it rolled to a stop, a little girl who looked like she could pass for a younger version of Jack stepped out of the car. Her black hair was pulled into a neat braid that ran down her back, and she was holding a small cassette player in her hands.
"That thing," Jack said, venom in his voice. The girl looked up at him with innocent eyes.
"I was just playing Madonna," she said, holding up her cassette player with a shrug.
"You were not!"
"Jonathan, please," Naomi said gently. "We can do this later."
"Alexander, why don't you show Jonathan to his room," Alistair suggested. "I'm sure he's tired from the trip."
"Great idea, sir," Jack said before Alex could answer. He had Alex by the shoulders again and was shoving him inside the house within seconds. Alex barely heard his grandfather mutter to Basil, "That's more manageable?", to which Basil replied miserably, "Yes".
Jack continued to steer Alex through his house until they got to the staircase that led up to Alexander's bedroom. The house had more than enough spare bedrooms to board all the Conrads, Farrows, and then some, but Jack had gotten in the habit the last two years of sleeping in Alex's room anyways.
"Do you hate Madonna so much you'd jump out of a moving car?" Alex asked once Jack let him go.
"It was not Madonna," Jack repeated, stomping up the stairs. "But probably, yeah."
"What was your sister doing then?"
"One of her friends' dad works at a recording studio. She used his equipment to make this batshit mix using animal sounds she recorded at the zoo. I'm pretty sure she managed to get audio of a murder or two in there. If I was a lesser man, I would be dead right now, Al."
"Lucky for us you're so resilient, then."
"You know they got her a pet snake this summer? She put him in my pillowcase last month, dude. I woke up with it wrapped around my neck!"
Alex snorted, then tried to cover it up in a way that just made it more obvious. Jack had him in a loose headlock before he could apologize.
"It's not funny, jerk. That thing could have killed me."
"I'm sorry," Alex said, his apology dampened by the giggles that followed it. "But you have to admit there's a bit of karma at work here."
"Excuse me?"
"She's you, Jack. Just looks like she's managed to be somehow more intense and more subtle about it."
"You're telling me." Jack released Alex from the headlock but kept his arm around his shoulders as they kept going towards Alex's bedroom. "She has my dad wrapped around her stupid little finger. I could get her on tape doing what she does to me and they would still find a way to make it look like I was guilty of something instead."
"It's a shame she's directing all this onto you. Imagine what you could accomplish if you worked together."
"I would never align myself with something so evil."
Jack's sister was named Beverly. She was five years younger than Jack, but she was years ahead of him when it came to wit and wreaking mischief. Almost all of it was directed at her closest brother. Alex had never actually seen her do any of the things Jack complained about. She was too careful to leave any witnesses. He didn't have any trouble believing the stories though. Not that he thought Jack would ever lie or exaggerate. But Alex had seen once or twice a familiar glint in Beverly's eyes. Her innocent expressions would break long enough for Alex to have to do a double take to make sure a young Jack hadn't time travelled to the present.
Once they got to Alex's bedroom, Jack let himself in and threw himself down face-first on the oversized bed with a dramatic sigh.
"How did you get away with this?" Alex asked, tugging at some wayward strands of the mohawk. He took his shoes off so he could sit cross-legged on the corner of the bed.
"You think it makes me look like a horse?" Jack asked, his voice muffled by the blankets he was talking into.
"Sorry."
"Nah, you're right. It looks better than I was trying to make it."
"You were trying to make it look bad?"
Jack rolled over onto his back so he could speak to the ceiling. "All summer my dad was bugging me about getting a haircut. Said it looked undignified, I wouldn't be taken seriously, whatever. So last week he said it had to be cut by the time we came out here, but he neglected to specify how it had to be cut. So, this."
"I can't believe he didn't shave it all off when he saw."
"He wanted to. But my mom's social club has been talking up this book by some child psychologist lately. It's made the hip new fad among socialite mothers 'parenting', believe it or not. Anyways, according to the book you need to ride rebellious yet harmless outbursts like this out. Take away the harmless acts of rebellion and your child will simply resort to more dangerous means, as the root cause will still be there. You need to refrain from motivating them to find other outlets."
"How do you fix the root cause?"
"I don't think she's gotten to that part of the book yet. I have a feeling her attention will be diverted to something else before she does, but it's entertaining while it lasts, at least." He grinned wildly. "She tried to have the sex talk with me last month."
Alex's face went hot. "Really?"
Jack fanned himself with his hand. "Jesus, Al, you got to get better at regulating yourself when you get embarrassed. It's like sitting next to a furnace right now."
Alex kicked Jack as he got even hotter. "Then get off," he muttered, trying to keep himself from igniting.
"I am going to miss having my space heater in the dorm this year, though."
"Your parents told you then?"
"Congrats on your new accountability buddy, man."
Alex suppressed a groan. "I honestly have no idea what they were thinking."
"Hey, it's your fault for doing too good a job of taming me."
"I don't even know how I managed that. I just yelled at you one day and you listened to me."
"I also respond well to treats. Maybe keep some cubes of cheese on hand."
"Jack."
"Cheese is delicious."
"What did make you start listening to me anyways?"
"Emotional maturity?"
"I'm going to need you to be serious about this conversation."
"Rude. But fair." Jack lifted his legs above his head until he did a backward somersault to sit upright on the bed. "I did feel bad, though. About the punch. Even I could tell that crossed a line. But then nobody called me out on it, except you, and that made me feel worse. So, I made up my mind to apologize. I don't think I'd ever done that before. Like Sean said, families like ours aren't exactly keen on that sort of stuff. So, to me it was a big deal, you know? But then you said it wasn't enough. It pissed me off at first. I mean, if my father ever apologized for anything I think the world would stop spinning for a second. But you were right, it didn't mean anything. Didn't fix anything. And the more I thought about it I realized that however much I hated what I had been putting up with, you were putting up with the same shit and managed not to be a dick about it. Hell, you were putting up with worse shit."
"... Not worse," Alex felt like he had to say. "Just different."
"I think your uncle was right to pick you since you have the best shot at getting this guy's trust. I mean, can you imagine Laurent even pretending to like the guy?"
Alex snorted again at that mental image. "Not even slightly."
"But I guess he was also wrong, cuz you're too nice to be good at espionage. Betrayal of trust isn't exactly something I see you pulling off."
"The only thing that's been keeping me from getting too panicked about it is the likelihood that I'll never get it in the first place."
"You think your chances are that low huh?"
"How much do you know about Matthew Montoya?"
"I've heard some stuff. He seems like he's got balls."
"He hates the old families."
"Yeah, most wyverns do."
"Most wyverns don't go around saying it."
"Has he?"
"He's gotten the closest, I think. I just can't imagine someone who's been saying all the things he has would react well to being boarded with a Conrad."
"I mean, he had to have at least seen it coming, right? If he's privy to our bullshit then he had to have known talking so much shit would come back to get him. Though maybe that just means he'll be ready."
"For what? Even if I was trying, outwitting me would be like playing checkers with a toddler."
"He doesn't know that."
"He will, after taking one look at me."
"Hey, don't beat yourself up, man. You look a lot smarter than you are."
"Thank you, Jack."
"No problem, buddy."