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"I don't know how many times you need to hear this, but staring at the throne for long hours won't make it accept you, Torin," Simon said, effectively dragging Torin out of his thoughts. "It seems like that's all you do these days, brother—stare at the throne and think about the good old times when it was still yours and the orbs used to glow brightly."
Torin's jaw clenched at the sensitive topic, one he had always tried to avoid.
As it turned out, it wasn't just sensitive for him; even Simon had to take a trip down memory lane. "Back then, everyone thought you were the perfect king. I mean, you were younger and all, yet the people and our ancestors accepted you even when you had achieved nothing so great. As a matter of fact, all you did was drive away a few rebels, and the next day, everyone was chanting your name. Absurd!"
Simon paused and chuckled. His chuckle started light but soon blew up into an uncontrollable laughter that even made his shoulders shake. "And how long did it last? Two years? And then you were thrown down, rejected, and humiliated by the same people and the same throne… You were rejected, Torin."
The sound of bones cracking echoed in the throne room, coming from Torin's tightly clenched fists. He had clenched so hard that his knuckles cracked. This was indeed a sensitive topic for him; his rejection and humiliation still replayed in his head like an unforgettable memory. It was there when he went to bed, haunted him in his sleep, and was the first thing he thought of at sunrise. Having someone remind him of it again was like pouring salt into an open wound.
"That is enough, Simon."
But unlike him, Simon had always found the memory blissful. "How is it enough? The elders and ministers didn't think it was enough when they coronated you in front of me; they even asked me to carry and parade you around the kingdom. It wasn't enough when the people chanted your praises and mocked me to my face. And it certainly wasn't enough when I was asked to leave the palace since the throne had found its true owner, so how is this enough?"
Torin pinched the skin between his brows and exhaled loudly. He knew that, just like him, Simon had his own share of injuries regarding the crown and the throne, but this was not the proper way to address things. As Lady Experience had taught him, this trip down memory lane would only add to his troubles. "Simon, that is enough… please."
"I was the firstborn, the older brother, yet I was asked to be the right-hand man of a man who I used to hold in my arms as a boy. I was asked to leave the palace because commoners should not live in the palace with the king, even though I am of royal blood too. I was asked to escort you and watch over you, not as your older brother, but as a loyal guard to the king. I was treated like a dog, Torin."
Silence fell upon them as Simon stopped speaking. It seemed like time itself had stopped with Simon's voice. Both brothers were lost in their thoughts, staring into the distance lifelessly. Each had gotten his own fair share of the wounds and pains life had to offer—they were still getting it—but the only difference was how each handled and treated his wounds.
While Torin had accepted his fate and was looking hopefully toward what was to come, Simon was living in the past, reliving his pain and humiliation every day, believing that his fate had been controlled by others, that he deserved justice. He believed that others had caused his pain, and he was determined to never let it happen again.
Simon took slow steps toward his brother and sat next to him, also facing the throne. Unlike Torin, he never had any good memories with that throne; it only brought him pain and humiliation, which he was never going to forget. "You know, Torin… that day, when the orbs stopped glowing under your reign, I was the happiest. Surprised, yet joyous." He withdrew his gaze from the majestic seat before him and looked at his younger brother, who was already staring at him. "I didn't know why I was happy and overjoyed. I never wished for you to be rejected by the throne and our people. Perhaps, the desperate wish of my heart to balance things once again caused it to happen, who knows."
"But that joy lasted only for a short while. Do you know why? Because it became worse for me, for us. The rejection caused no balance; it broke the scale. It was no longer Simon Galadiel who was incapable, it became the Galadiel brothers who were cursed."
Torin sighed again, lines of exhaustion forming on his face as he ran his fingers through his dark locks. It was truly exhausting to think back and recollect these things, and it would be much better if they could look forward to creating a brighter future for themselves. But what choice did they have? The very walls and pillars of the palace mocked them whenever they went through the corridors, and the wind brought whispers of the people's curses to their ears.
In a condition like this, they had been forced down this exhausting path, especially since the throne had yet to find its new worthy owner. If the throne could find a new owner, then their case would be closed. The Galadiel brothers might just gain their freedom from their memories.
"I did not kill that soldier because I was afraid he would go running his mouth. I killed him because he came to us. It is humiliating enough that neither of us is king, but he brought that report knowing well that we are no more than sitting ducks in this palace."
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