Days passed.
Soren tried to keep track of them, but they slipped through his hands, each morning blending into the next, each meal tasting the same because he ate for her, because if he refused she would only look at him with that bright insistence until he gave in.
No matter how many times he hugged her, no matter how many little jokes he forced, his sister only grew worse, her smiles too sharp, her laughter arriving a heartbeat late.
Soren told himself he was imagining it.
He told himself she was just tired.
He told himself not to ask.
Still, the thought sat in him like a splinter.
'I really am useless.'
He wanted to demand answers.
He wanted to corner her with a stubbornness he rarely used, but every time he opened his mouth, fear slid up his throat and strangled his words.
So he said nothing.
Cowardice was easier, and he hated himself for choosing the easy thing again.
Until this morning.
As usual, the siblings sat at the table, breakfast laid out neatly, steam rising from the tea, and Freya's smile already in place.
She ate two bites, set her fork down, and spoke with a seriousness that didn't belong in their home.
"Hey, Ren."
Soren's spine went straight.
"Yes, Sister?"
"My next mission has been decided," Freya said, and her fingers tapped once against the table, controlled. "This'll be the last."
Soren blinked.
That wasn't what he expected, not from her, not with that tone.
"Isn't that good news though?" he asked, and forced a smile onto his face, the same way he always did when he thought she needed it.
Freya's eyes flicked up, held his, then dropped.
"…Yeah."
Something in her voice sent a shiver up his arms.
He smiled wider anyway, pretending not to notice, because if he acknowledged it, he might have to name it, and naming it would make it real.
'It's fine. Everything's fine… right?'
Freya's voice softened, almost careful.
"Hey, Ren. Do you like living with me?"
Soren didn't hesitate, because it wasn't a question he had to think about.
"Huh? Of course."
Freya's lips parted, then closed again, as if she had to force herself to continue.
"…What do you think of returning home?"
Soren's hand tightened around his cup.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe properly, his chest locking the way it used to when the estate doors shut behind him, when he realised there was no way to leave without permission.
"Oh…" he said, and the sound came out thin. "Uhm, I'm fine with it, as long as my sister is there."
It was a lie.
He was terrified of going back, but he couldn't hand her another worry to carry, not when she already looked like she was holding herself together by habit alone.
Freya stared at him, and her lashes dipped, hiding her eyes.
"Hey, Ren?" she tried again, the way a person might approach a skittish animal.
"Yes, Sister?"
"What do you think about going to Stellaris Academy?"
Soren's stomach dropped.
"So suddenly?" he blurted, then caught himself and tried to soften it. "I mean… I don't know. Wouldn't that mean I wouldn't be able to see you?"
There were so many reasons the suggestion felt absurd: his frail body, his lack of talent in almost every field that mattered, the way he struggled even to talk to strangers without feeling like he was doing something wrong.
But the most important reason was simple.
If he went, he would be without her.
Soren still remembered how Stellaris Academy worked, the long years, the rare letters, the short visits, the distance that had felt like someone slowly pulling his ribs apart.
'I don't want to do that again.'
Freya leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice turning gentle, coaxing.
"…I think it would be a good place for you to go. You could make some friends, see the world, have—"
"But I don't need any of that, Sister," Soren cut in, too quickly, too sharp, because panic had bitten through his careful mask. "I've already told you. You're all I need."
The words fell into silence.
Freya's lips trembled.
"I… Ren…"
He frowned, confusion mixing with that creeping dread.
'Why is she acting like this?'
This wasn't the first time she had asked about his future, but the way she spoke now, the look on her face, the shine of tears that she refused to let fall, it made the conversation feel like standing on thin ice.
Soren's voice lowered.
"…Sister, what was written in that letter?"
Freya froze.
For a moment, she looked like herself without the performance, like someone caught with a wound exposed, then she forced her mouth to move.
"Nothing."
His eyebrows drew together.
"Then why are you acting so weird?"
"It's nothing," Freya said again, too fast, too firm, then her voice cracked just slightly as she added, "but Ren… can you promise me you'll at least think about the academy?"
Silence stretched.
He could have pressed her, could have demanded the truth, could have refused to let her dodge him again, but his heart hammered, screaming at him not to ask, not to push, because pushing might make her pull away.
His fingers twitched toward his nails, a nervous habit he had been trying to break, and he forced them still.
"…If that makes you happy."
Freya exhaled, the sound shaky.
"Thank you, Ren."
She stood and stepped into his space, arms wrapping around him before he could decide whether he wanted it, and Soren's body responded immediately, arms lifting to hold her.
"Thank you so much," she whispered.
Freya trembled in his arms, fighting something he couldn't see.
Soren tightened his grip, stroking her hair the way she stroked his, praying it would be enough, praying he could hold her together with nothing but warmth and a steady heartbeat.
That night, when the house finally went quiet, muffled sobs bled through the wall between their rooms.
Soren lay in bed with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling, every muscle rigid, listening.
He told himself to get up.
He told himself to go to her.
He told himself she shouldn't have to cry alone.
His body didn't move.
He stayed frozen, breath shallow, shame thick in his throat, and when the sobs finally faded into exhausted silence, he hated himself a little more.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
The morning she left, the sunlight felt wrong, too bright for how heavy the air was.
Freya stood by the door with her armour fastened, hair neatly tied back, looking like the competent, reliable woman everyone else believed her to be.
Soren hovered a step away, hands uncertain at his sides, as if moving closer might make this real.
"Ren," Freya said, voice careful, "look after yourself, okay?"
He nodded quickly.
"Of course, Sister. So please come back safe."
Freya's smile twitched, faint and tired.
"Sister?" Soren asked and took a half-step forward.
Freya blinked, then snapped into brightness like it was a shield.
"Ah, of course I will. Who do you think I am! I'm Freya Arden! Hehe. Reliable, right?"
Soren's mouth lifted in a thin line.
"…If you didn't add that last part."
"Ehe," Freya giggled, as if that was the only problem. "My bad. Anyways… I'm off."
She turned toward the door.
Soren's chest tightened so hard it hurt.
Something he had heard the other night, bleeding through the walls in the dark, rose up in his mind like a hand grabbing his throat.
— I'm so sorry, Ren, please don't hate me.
"Wait!" Soren blurted, and the word came out cracked.
He chased after her, steps unsteady, his legs trembling as if his body already knew this was the moment he would regret forever.
Freya stopped with her hand on the latch.
Soren stood behind her, breathless, and forced himself to speak, because if he didn't, he would hate himself even more.
"Do you have to go?" he asked, voice small, shameful.
Freya turned.
For a moment, just a moment, her expression softened so much it made Soren's hope flare, sharp and painful, and he thought she might stay, he thought she might drop the act and tell him the truth.
Then her smile returned, gentle but firm, and it felt like a door closing.
"Of course I do, silly."
Freya stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him tightly, stroking his head with slow, soothing motions like she was calming a frightened animal.
"Don't worry, Ren, everything will be alright," she murmured into his hair, voice warm.
Soren's hands clenched at her back, holding on like he could keep her here through force of will alone.
Freya pulled back just enough to brush his bangs aside, fingertips lingering against his forehead, then she leaned in and pressed her lips there, a soft kiss that made his breath catch.
"I love you, Soren," she whispered, and for once she used his name as if it mattered. "You're the reason I've been able to get this far."
Soren's throat closed.
His vision blurred.
"Why are you acting like this…" he managed, barely a question, more a plea.
Freya's smile shook.
"I…"
Her voice hitched.
"I'm sorry."
Then she stepped away, turned, and opened the door.
Soren's hand lifted as if to grab her sleeve.
He didn't.
He stood there and watched her go, because his body still wouldn't move when it mattered, because fear kept him pinned in place like a knife through fabric.
It was pathetic.
He was pathetic.
He already knew something was wrong.
He had known for days, maybe longer, but he was too scared to look straight at it.
Only when Freya vanished from sight did he whisper to an empty street that didn't care.
"I love you too, Freya…"
That night, a knight came.
————「❤︎」————