All these years. He’s wondered all these years exactly what he’s going to do when he sees Aleksei again. Any normal person – any normal immortal for that matter – would exact revenge in the worst possible way. Slaughtering his lover. Eating his child. Cutting down every one of his little bastard progeny. Taking away every person that they love. Well. Perhaps that might include their dear little brother, their parents – were they still alive, Maksimilian no longer knows. But is he cruel enough to kill an infant? Cruel enough to take away Dmitriy’s life… when he knows full well that after killing him, Aleksei returned to his mortal lover and killed him. Those who had revived him told him of all that had transpired. Told him of the creature his brother had turned into. The darkness that spread through him. Told him of the reincarnation that remained by his side, unknowingly, over the years.
The boy that he now loved.
Love.
Such a disgusting gesture. The mere idea that love is strong enough to conquer time. Pathetic.
His lips curl into a snarl, and he leans back against the couch with a sigh. This entire place reeks of his brother. Of the little bitch he’d been sneaking around with when Maksimilian was still alive. Of the infant child that he’s not strong enough to kill. Babies were innocent, no matter what their parents crimes were. His fight was with Aleksei. His anger was for Aleksei. But if it came to it… perhaps he’d end Dmitriy. Simply to have fun.
There’s no door opening. No sound of a cloak falling from shoulders. No lock turning. All Maksimilian hears is the rustle of footsteps against flooring. And then Aleksei’s scent growing stronger. The scent of vanilla, a smell he’s always despised. And then fear – because now Aleksei can smell him too. It’s hard to hide the grin, perhaps he’s more like his brother than he first thought. Or perhaps spending hundreds of years as a ghost wandering the land… trapped to the world of the living by the crystal around his neck, had dimmed his views. Had silenced the caring voice in his head. So when Aleksei steps into the room, when Maksimilian finally gets the chance to see his twin, the first chance since they were only five hundred, his smile is less than friendly.
“младший брат.”
Rising from the couch, all the fluid grace of an ancient prince groomed to be king, Maksimilian folds his arms across his chest, sapphire eyes focusing on his younger brother. He can see it in Aleksei’s eyes. The anger .The loathing. The sight of fangs amuses him. Stepping closer, he taps his fingers against one fang, before his fingers curl into Aleksei’s jaw.
“What’s the matter, brother? I thought you’d be happy I’m alive. Why… the…long… face?” His voice softens, words turning into a raspy growl as nails dig into Aleksei’s pale skin.
— Breathing, moving, calculating, Everything is stuck in an immense perplexity he cannot seem to escape, head spinning with thoughts and fears of scenarios he shouldn’t worry for. His children, his lover. Everything he cares for can so very easily crumble in the hands of his twin, because they are the sheer image of one another, from the tips of their toes, to the way strands of blond fall to rest upon highly held heads. So simple, yet so complex. Fear never roots itself in his chest, never spreads though his veins like dark, smoldering ashes. There’s already too much hate, too much unsolved, delayed alienation towards the one man he should have shared his entire life with, towards the one being that shares both heart, soul and blood with himself.
Tangled in lies, deception between good and evil.
It had been like, playing a game. Wearing masks, stop b r e a t h i n g .
Commit the murder your heart desires behind closed doors? No, that had never been Aleksei’s way of handling his business, had never come to mind, His sins held many faces, held high numbers and had many names. Maksimilian had been the first to go, the first bloodshed, his initial destruction of a heart, beating so strongly the echoes still haunted him in his nightmares. It makes the marrow of his bones feel strange and his fingertips curl uncomfortably to keep themselves from trembling.
Composure.
A smirk, a curl of perfectly shaped lips, so close to horrifying, blood curling when the tip of his tongue dances over the upper fold and he seems so effortless, so careless, even though fire is burning within deep amber hues, small slivers of clear blue seeping through cracks and crevices. A pretty demonstration, of what anger does to a being consumed, imposed even, by the ice his motherland had consisted of. A spirit so powerful, that it would always be beyond his own control.
His teeth clench, his jaw so tightly shut it almost makes his lips quiver and he shakes his head, huffs silently at his given title. Younger. He’s close to laughing, covering his features with the back of his hand for less than a second before he calms, before his eyes fox by the moving image of himself, by the imposer in his own home and he never lets his gaze falter, from perfectly chiseled features. Fingers curl into his jaw, and Aleksei isn’t moving, not even in the slightest. Merely flashing the most poisonous shadow of a smile, eyebrows lowered and eyelids slanting.
"Have you perhaps forgotten, brother dearest, that I….“
"Happen to loathe you, more than the moon loathes the sun for stealing it’s beauty?”
" And appreciation. “
His voice plays softly, still his expression solid as marble and his hand rises, moves up along lines of a body so familiar, not touching a single itty bit. As if every cell of Maksimilian’s body consisted contagious germs. Not until reaching far up enough to fist his fingers in blonde strands of hair, as nails dug into his own flawless pale complexion.
Ice, so easily embeds his fingertips and the temperature of the room itself lowers, hues gleaming a light blue and the siberian king tips his head to the side, lets his blond strands fall out of place as nails rasp against flesh. Twisted, eery and monstrous is his very nature and he makes it more apparent than ever, with every little motion he makes, every shift of his expression,
Soulless.
” Are you perhaps, seeking vengeance? Brother dearest?“
Fearless & m e r c i l e s s
” Your intentions are oozing off of you, like the spreading of a stubborn ulcer. “
” You should,
give up. “