​Brotherhood

In this hollowed, ruined chamber, there was nothing left to plunder, its splendour and authority extinguished along with the old. Now, it was just an empty, blood-stained room—a fitting place for our last meeting.

The old banner still stood, half torn, half charred. The bear sigil looked strong, unrelenting. Even if its master was not. It didn’t matter—it was the past, soon to be forgotten.

I look out the window at the courtyard. Finally, he arrives—alone, as promised. Far too trusting… if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t hesitate. They’d be dead already, a bolt through the head.

But not him. We’ve fought too much, shed too much blood together for it to end so cheaply. No matter what, he deserves better.

We both do.

This reward is undeserved. Fate is cruel, everything we bled for, and it ends like this… pitiful.

It should have been beautiful. Victors, drinking, whoring, celebrating, even grieving… anything but this.

Was there no other way? Couldn’t we just work together? Share? Why can’t he concede? Accept their mercy? Bend like everyone else…

like me…

It’s… too late now.

I hear him on the stairs. Heavy thuds. Steel clanking. Each step grows louder, clearer. The echoes in the hallway chills my spine. All of it is calling out to me — calling for blood.

My blood. Only one of us will leave. Only one.

Fuck… Fate is a vile bitch, and she’s fucked us both.

…steady… steady heart. Don’t shake. Don’t stutter. Control. He’s almost here. No fear. I will it gone. Finally, it obeys, my breathing measured and my composure returns.

He enters. Bloodied armour, scars and cuts everywhere. No time for repairs, a rough journey—but he stands. Proud. Unbending.

The sunrays glimmer through the broken glass and when they land on him, he shimmers—radiant.

Maybe he really is a saint… no, just a better fraud than me. Regardless, he has my…

Respect.

Only you deserve that. Only you have earned it. That stubbornness, that fire—never relenting, never giving up even when we all did. Without you, I’d be dead…

and only you could fuck me so, for what I must now do. But… I can’t lose. So you must… And I’ll be damned, for it.

“You arrived.”

“Did you think I would run?” he replies.

“I wish you did.”

“Why?” he sniggers. “So you don’t have to do the dirty work?!”

“You chose this! None of it needed to happen!” I point, accusing.

“Look around. Everything we achieved—our victory. It’s here. All ours. All we wished for, better than that. Everything we dreamed, all here. All you need to do to be a part—”

“I WON’T BEND!” he roars, like a lion.

Outwardly, I don’t move—yet inside, I quiver like prey.

“Not to them.” He says with conviction.

“What was it? What did they promise? A few coins and you’ve already forgotten us? The struggle, the pain, the blood, our brothers dead… what was it for if—”

“Get off that fucking high horse!” I snap.

“WE have all bled. WE have all lost. Don’t think you’re better than me.

We both came from wolves, and I’ll do what I have to—to live.

Your hands aren’t as clean as you pretend.

Did you forget? While you played the saviour, I was your silent knife.

I did the dirty work.

The “fine work”, you called it, the… the children… I still see their faces…”

The memories make me stammer. No. I need my words.

“After all we’ve done… but you still play the saint.”

Silence. Long, heavy silence.

Then he speaks, not in anger, not in blame, but with reason.

“You’re right, brother. My hands are just as dirty. I have so much to regret, to repent.

I accept fate’s judgement when this is over. But my fight isn’t done yet.”

“What an arrogant, self-righteous bastard,” I retort.

“Do you not see? You’re no better than I. We—”

He snaps before I finish.

“We started as nothing, petty thieves. Along the way, I’ve seen too much, witnessed too much—how could I not change? You and I, we’re the last of our little band.”

“We may have started as brigands, but what we did… what we started… was righteous. The people love us. Don’t throw it away. We can still make it right.”

He pleads, and his words echo in my head.

Righteous.

Charismatic. I want to believe. Almost…

It almost works.

“No, brother. You know it’s over. We can’t beat them, not now.

It’s over, though you’re too stubborn to see it.

You say you’re doing this for the people. Then end it. Submit and end their suffering.

Can’t you see, you’re the one that’s dragging on their misery?

You can’t talk this out. Join, or die.”

My sword unsheathes. I know his choice.

He sees it. Pauses. Sighs. Finally speaks:

“You know, on my journey here, I thought about fate. How cruel it’s been. Everything we survived… and now this. I wondered if you thought the same.”

He ponders, as if I’m not even here. Then the coldness comes.

They pit us against each other.

Like those cockerel fights we used to bet on.

They were poked, prodded, then thrown in a ring.

But we’re not animals, not pets, not their playthings…

Let us break free brother, together again!”

I shake my head and simply reply:

“No.”

“I thought… I could persuade you.”

Despair breaks his voice.

“If you do this, you’ll always be their pet.”

He opens both hands, pleading.

“For everything we’ve been through, our bond is thicker than blood. Don’t do this!”

I freeze.

For a second, the bond feels as strong as ever—unbreakable, untouchable, like the past…

The room goes dark, as the sun hides behind clouds. It knows what’s coming and turns away in sorrow.

No more words. We’ve circled long enough.

Only one thing remains. I say it:

“I love you brother… but we now walk different paths. Draw your sword…”

I love you and I am damned.