The sunlight streaming through the castle windows painted warm patterns on the walls as Dimitri made his way toward Arlon's chamber. His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of two small figures ahead, their blonde hair shining like spun gold.
"Sir Dimitri!" a cheerful voice called out.
Dimitri turned to see the twins, Irien and Irish, hurrying toward him. Irien's steps were measured and graceful, while Irish dashed forward with the boundless energy of youth.
"Ladies Irien and Irish," Dimitri greeted with a small bow, his voice carrying a rare warmth. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
"We're happy to see you too, Sir Dimitri!" Irish chirped, her bright blue eyes sparkling.
Irien nodded shyly, clutching the hem of her dress. "You're always so kind, Sir Dimitri."
Dimitri smiled. "And you both seem to be in good health. That's all I could hope for."
The twins exchanged glances before Irien spoke, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity. "I met big brother Arlon in the library earlier. He… seemed different."
Dimitri's brows rose in surprise. "Did he? How so, Lady Irien?"
"Well," Irien hesitated, her fingers fiddling nervously. "He didn't say much, but… he didn't ignore me either. It was… nice."
Irish chimed in, unable to contain her excitement. "I bumped into him in the hallway. He didn't get mad or anything—he just asked if I was okay."
Dimitri chuckled softly. "It seems you've both had quite eventful encounters with him."
Irien tilted her head."Do you think we can talk to him more? He likes books too, doesn't he?"
Irish nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Maybe we can talk about the books we like!"
Dimitri's expression softened. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Your brother may seem distant, but he isn't unapproachable. Kindness and patience go a long way. Show him that you care, and I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
The twins brightened at his words, their eyes gleaming with newfound determination.
"Thank you, Sir Dimitri," Irien said earnestly. "We'll try our best."
"I'm sure you will," Dimitri replied with a faint smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see your brother. But I'll look forward to hearing more about your progress the next time we meet."
The twins curtsied, their enthusiasm evident as they watched Dimitri continue on his way.
As he walked, Dimitri couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. The twins' desire to connect with Arlon was genuine, and though the young lord still had his walls firmly in place, Dimitri believed that those walls could one day crumble under the weight of small, persistent kindnesses.
With that thought in mind, he approached Arlon's chamber, ready to offer his own guidance to the man who seemed determined to carry the weight of the world alone.
Plop—
Arlon sat at his desk, the ancient book lying untouched before him. Its faded pages promised answers, but his thoughts were elsewhere, circling the encounters that had left a strange unease in his chest.
Irien, quiet and reserved, her presence in the library almost ethereal, had seemed like a fragile doll, animated by faint curiosity yet guarded by an invisible wall. Then there was Irish, her twin—vivid and impulsive, colliding into him with all the energy of a whirlwind, yet faltering when vulnerability briefly broke through her bravado.
"They're just children," Arlon muttered, leaning back in his chair. Yet the gnawing feeling wouldn't leave. Children they were, but they were also his sisters, an undeniable connection that the original Arlon had ignored.
He turned his gaze to the book, its lines of ancient script blurry in the moonlight. He wanted to focus, to distract himself with its mysteries, but the quiet weight of the twins' hesitant expressions kept creeping back into his mind.
Knock— knock—
A knock on the door interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Come in," Arlon called, straightening in his chair.
Creak—
The door opened, and Dimitri stepped inside, composed as ever. "My lord," he began, bowing slightly, "I've brought the documents you requested regarding the noble assembly. But judging by your expression, it seems your mind is occupied with something else."
Is he about to bring up the twins? Arlon wondered, a flicker of apprehension crossing his mind. I'd better get into character.
Arlon arched a brow but remained silent, gesturing for Dimitri to continue.
"You've been sitting here for some time, yet I doubt you've made any progress with that book," Dimitri observed, his sharp eyes scanning the desk. He placed a stack of parchment down, his tone light but deliberate. "Perhaps your trip to the library yielded more than just texts to decipher?"
Arlon's frown deepened, but Dimitri pressed on, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "The young ladies," he said knowingly. "They've captured your attention, haven't they?"
"Captured my attention?" Arlon scoffed, leaning back. "They nearly knocked me over and fled. Hardly the kind of interaction worth noting."
Dimitri's smile widened slightly."But you're thinking about them, aren't you? They're still your family."
Arlon's fingers drummed against the desk.
"Family doesn't mean anything if there's no bond. I don't know them, and they don't know me."
"Not yet," Dimitri said, his voice steady. "But bonds take effort, my lord. A simple gesture, a word of kindness—it can mean more than you realize."
Arlon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You expect me to be their doting older brother? That's not who I am."
"No," Dimitri replied calmly. "I expect you to be yourself, but to try. They're young, my lord, and they look up to you, even if they don't know how to show it."
"They've done nothing wrong," Arlon murmured, his gaze drifting back to the book. "They're just... caught in the mess of this family, like the rest of us."
"That's precisely why they need someone to guide them," Dimitri said. "They don't need perfection. They just need someone willing to care."
Arlon stared at the desk, his jaw tightening. The weight of Dimitri's words settled heavily in the room, challenging the walls he had built around himself. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but resolute. "I'll think about it."
Dimitri inclined his head, satisfied. "That's all I ask, my lord."
As Dimitri exited the room, Arlon remained seated, his thoughts conflicted.The idea of connecting with the twins felt foreign, but Dimitri's words lingered.
Even acting won't resolve everything in the end. I need to back it up with action too, Arlon mused.
Shaking his head, Arlon reached for the book, forcing himself to focus on the ancient script. Answers lay ahead, both in the pages and in the ties he had yet to rebuild. For now, he would deal with what he could control.
Arlon stepped into the hallway, the book from the library secured under his arm. His thoughts lingered on Irish and Irien—two contrasting presences. Irish, with her playful, unfiltered words, and Irien, graceful and composed, yet equally uncertain around him.
Yet beneath those differences, there was something shared—an uncertainty when addressing him, a cautious hopefulness that they hadn't yet figured out how to express.
As he moved toward his chambers, Dimitri's words echoed in his thoughts: "Perhaps the twins might help you clear your thoughts." He frowned slightly. It was strange, the idea of anyone—let alone his younger sisters—helping him with anything beyond surface-level formalities. He wasn't someone they knew well. They barely addressed him as a brother.
Lost in thought, Arlon's steps slowed as he passed the library. Through the door, left ajar, he caught faint voices inside. Curiosity stirred, and after a moment's hesitation, he pushed the door open.
Creak—
Inside, the vast shelves of the library stretched toward the high ceiling, rows upon rows of leather-bound books glowing faintly under the soft light. In front of one of the taller shelves, the twins stood together, their focus fixed on a book just out of reach. Irien stretched onto her toes, her hand brushing the edge of the spine, while Irish stood beside her, hands on her hips.
"This is ridiculous," Irish muttered, her voice carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. "Why do they even put these books so high? It's like they don't expect anyone under six feet tall to read anything interesting."
Irien, ever composed, let out a soft sigh, her fingers brushing uselessly against the edge of the book. "We need a ladder," she said, her tone calm despite her evident struggle.
Arlon watched for a moment, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his mind. It was such a mundane scene—two young girls stubbornly battling a bookshelf—and yet it felt oddly out of place in the cold, formal halls of the castle. Without announcing himself, he stepped forward.
"Need some help?" Arlon's calm voice broke the silence, and both girls jolted as though caught doing something forbidden.
They turned sharply, their wide eyes landing on him. Irien's composure wavered as her face flushed lightly, while Irish straightened, blinking in surprise. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Lord Arlon" Irish recovered first, though her tone was unusually bright and nervous. "We were just, uh, trying to grab this book. But, um—" She hesitated, glancing toward the shelf. "It's too high."
Irien looked away, her fingers fidgeting lightly with the hem of her sleeve. "We didn't want to bother anyone," she added softly. "But... yes, we could use some help."
Arlon's gaze landed on the book, perched frustratingly out of reach for the twins. He stepped forward without ceremony, reaching up and plucking it from the shelf with ease. Silently, he extended it to them.
"Here," he said simply, his voice steady.
Irien took the book with a small, graceful bow of her head. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She clutched the book to her chest, avoiding his gaze.
"It's nothing," Arlon replied, his expression unreadable.
Irish, ever bolder, recovered from her initial fluster and quickly shifted her attention to the book under Arlon's arm. "What about you? What are you reading?" she asked, her tone light but curious.
Arlon glanced down at the faded leather-bound volume. "A text on ancient languages," he said, his tone even.
Irish tilted her head, her interest obvious. "You're into old languages?"
"Yes," he replied, his response short and deliberate. "Understanding the past is important. There's value in knowing what came before."
Irien, still clutching the book he had retrieved for them, finally lifted her gaze to meet his.
"Do you think understanding the past could change the future?" Irien's quiet question lingered, carrying far more weight than her small voice should have.
The question caught him off guard. He studied her for a moment before responding. "Sometimes. History doesn't repeat itself exactly, but it shows patterns—choices and consequences. If you know how to interpret it, you might avoid repeating certain mistakes."
Irien nodded, her expression softening with quiet understanding. "That makes sense," she said.
Irish, meanwhile, was already brimming with another question. "Do you think you could recommend some books like that? The ones about history and old languages?"
"..."
Arlon hesitated, surprised by the request. It wasn't often anyone asked for his input, let alone the twins. Their interest seemed genuine, though, and he found himself considering the possibility. "Some of the books are difficult," he warned. "But if you're serious, I can find something."
Irish brightened instantly. "We don't mind the difficulty!" she declared, her enthusiasm infectious. "We like a challenge—right, Irien?"
Irien smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yes. We'd like to learn."
Arlon studied them both, their earnestness clear in their expressions. There was something unguarded about it, something unfamiliar to him. For a moment, he debated how far to let this go. Then, almost without realizing it, he nodded.
"If you're serious, we'll start tomorrow," Arlon said, his tone steady but cool. "It won't be easy. If you aren't willing to put in the effort, don't waste my time."
The twins exchanged a surprised glance before Irish spoke, her voice quick and slightly flustered. "We won't waste your time! We promise!"
Irien, always more measured, bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, Arlon—uh, Lord Arlon,We... really appreciate this."
Arlon nodded once, his expression unreadable. He adjusted the book under his arm and stepped back, glancing toward the door. "You should head back to your rooms now. It's getting late."
Irish hesitated, then blurted out, "You'll really study with us, right?"