WULFRIC watched Cynric’s anger, and even though they were in VirtualNest, he could still feel his own heart clench painfully. His brother’s fury was raw and justified, every word was a sharp and deserved accusation. Seeing the full force of that long-held pain aimed directly at him filled Wulfric with a deep and complicated shame. He had caused this. He had let this anger grew for years through his own neglect, and now he had to stand there and face it.

“I was never disgusted by you,” he stated, his eyes locked on Cynric’s as he pushed each word out through a wall of regret. “Never. The thought never even crossed my mind. And I am so sorry that my actions made you believe that. I hate that I made you carry that.”

He struggled to find the right words to say next, but the truth felt clumsy and inadequate even in his mind.

“There’s no excuse that will ever be enough. But it wasn’t because of you. It was because of me. After that night, the anger… it never really left. It became this constant thing inside me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I ran from it. I went to places where I could fight, where I could let it out, because that was the only thing that made it quiet for a while.”

He looked down for a moment, feeling ashamed.

“You didn’t need my anger, Cyn. What you needed was comfort. You needed understanding. And I was so convinced that I wasn’t capable of giving that to you. At the time, I truly believed that staying away was better than risking saying or doing the wrong thing and hurting you even more. Now I see how arrogant that was. I see that I should have tried.”

His fists clenched at his sides. If this were reality, his nails would have dug deeper into his palms and drawn blood.

“I was a coward. I was wrong, and I will regret that every day. I am sorry, Cynric. I am truly sorry.”

Cynric listened, and as he watched his brother, a cold clarity settled over him. He knew with certainty that Wulfric was telling the truth. This wasn’t some carefully constructed lie meant to placate him. Wulfric didn’t operate that way. Because he considered lying beneath him. And the raw, unpolished shame on his face was too real to be fake.

But that truth did nothing to cool the anger burning in Cynric’s chest. If anything, it flared even hotter. The confirmation that Wulfric’s neglect came from a place of genuine struggle, not malice, felt like a new kind of betrayal. It meant all those years of pain could have been avoided if his brother had just been… different. If he had been normal.

He paused, feeling bad at the thought. His mind then turned, almost against his will, to the why. Why his brother was the way he was. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs N0v3l.Fiɾe.net

Wulfric had been just twenty. A boy, really, who’d been thrown into a world of violence and order long before he’d learned how to process his own humanity. A young man who had never been given a real chance to grow up properly. He had spent his most formative years on a military base, training with hardened soldiers, learning violence before he learned vulnerability. No one had nurtured his heart. No one had taught him how to handle emotions. How could he have known what to do? The only language he understood was force. It was almost a miracle he hadn’t turned into a complete monster.

And now, this. This awkward, painful, utterly sincere apology. It was something Cynric had never dared to imagine. Seeing his proud, stubborn brother laid bare like this was so disorienting it felt like watching a fever dream. Yet it was happening. And as the storm of his own anger began to recede, leaving behind a weary ache, Cynric understood that the only thing left to do was to be just as honest. To speak his truth without letting the anger control his words.

He took a deep breath and spoke.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Cynric began, his voice low but clear, the earlier heat of his anger banked into something more weary and solemn. “And I believe you. I accept your apology.” He held his brother’s gaze, not looking away from the raw emotion there. “But accepting it doesn’t just magically make everything okay. It doesn’t erase the past ten years. The things that were done to me… what that monster did… that pain is still here. I still feel it, and I probably will for a very long time.”

He took a slow breath, as if steadying himself. “After it happened, after you saw… a part of me thought you would stay. I thought my brother would be the one person I wouldn’t have to face this alone with. But you left. You never brought it up, you never asked if I was okay. You just disappeared into your missions and your anger. And that silence… it let the wound fester. I bandaged it up. I had to, to survive, to function as Emperor. But it never really healed. It’s still there.”

A faint, tired smile touched his lips, devoid of any real humor. “I realize now it was unfair of me to expect you to know what to do. I put a hope in you that you weren’t equipped to handle. You’ve always moved through the world differently than most. Expecting you to suddenly understand how to offer comfort when you were never shown any yourself… that was my mistake, not yours.”

His expression grew more resolved, though the pain in his eyes remained. “But you saying this now… it matters. It does. We can’t undo what’s already happened. We can’t get those years back. But maybe we can decide what happens next. Maybe we can both try to be better. For each other, this time.”

Cynric raised his head, waiting for Wulfric’s response. But his brother did not say anything. Instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides, and pulled Cynric into a tight, wordless hug.

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