Warning: PTSD, panic attack and mental distress.

The clang of steel reverberated across the training grounds, the sound of sword against sword ringing through the air.

Jay's arms burned, sweat dripping from his brow as he squared off with Neel. His breathing was ragged, a sharp contrast to Neel's intense composure. Every blow he struck was blocked by the older male's defense. Neel was fluid, and he, on the other hand, was slowly losing his patience. The need to defeat his opponent hammered in his chest. But no matter how hard he tried, Neel was always one step ahead.

"Focus, Prince Kshitij," Neel called when Jay almost stumbled, voice calm as he blocked another strike.

His eyes blazed with indignation and something darker. Neel was always a step ahead of him. Always. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, fury rising within him.  He swung harder, slashing with everything he had, his frustration pushing him to move faster.

Neel dodged and blocked with a quick precision. "You can't fight with childish indignation and expect victory, Sir Jay."

His jaw clenched, sword coming down, hard. Neel parried, his blade a blur of silver. Jay's frustration grew.

Just then, Neel disarmed him with a deft move, leaving him cornered. His chest heaved up and down, seething with anger.

Why couldn't he win? Why was Neel always this untouchable, always just out of reach? How could he ever become as good as his bhaiya if he couldn't defeat him?

The lawn quiet and gentle in the early spring afternoon. Gentle, balmy sunlight danced on the blades, shimmering over the water that had been sprinkled earlier.

Jay was eight back then. The soft breeze carried the serious voices of his parents from the outdoor Luncheon table. He looked up from poking at a marigold flower, back at the table. 

Shay was sleeping, head in his mother's lap while she ran an absent minded hand through his scalp. When Agney exclaimed loudly, The Maharaj's gaze snapped to him, Mr. Maan following suit to frown at his daughter. The fourteen year old prince froze, immediately composing himself. Neelakshi, then twenty one, composed herself too, bowing to the King and her father, before she gracefully resumed to chase Agney as they played tag. Yuvaan and Prithvi continued to wrestle on the grass faraway, and when the Maharaj noticed them, he shot up from the chair and marched to them. Both of them scrambled up, and squealed, running towards the palace.

The Queen sighed.

Jay's eyes rounded in awe when his bhaiya and Neel stumbled onto the lawn, carried with the flow of the match, fluidly moving.

His bhaiya chuckled when he easily disarmed Neel with an effortless flick, sending the sword flying from his hand back to the training grounds. He held the tip of his blade at Neel's throat, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Jay's face split into a grin, bouncing at his place. "My brother won again!"

"I don't blame you," Viraj teased his best friend, still holding up the sword. "My face can be quite distracting."

Neel's lips quirked up in wry amusement. "Drop it, Yuvraaj."

"Bhaiya, now stab his heart. Show him we are the Rajvanshs!"

Viraj snapped his gaze toward Jay, startled. Then a smug, impish smile spread his face as he turned towards Neel, trailing the sword down his chest.

"You're right, buddy." Viraj rested the tip of sword at his friend's heart, eyes glinting with playful menace. "Why should I settle for the neck when the heart is here?" 

Neel blushed, before rolling his eyes. "You're impossible," he muttered, side stepping the blade, and moving forward.

Viraj raised the sword to the side, the flat side blocking Neel's chest, halting him in his tracks. "Not so soon," he said.

"Let me go," Neel groaned. 

"Bhaiya!" Jay ran and hugged his brother when his brother finally lowered the sword. "You're the best! Neel isn't even close to you." He turned smugly. "You see, Mr. Udawat? You're like an ant next to my brother."

Neel arched a brow.

​​​"You are nothing in comparison to him."

​​​​"Easy, buddy. His pride is in ruins already. Poor thing is burning with envy as it is." His bhaiya smirked.

"Burning with envy? Me?"

The brothers ignored Neel.

His bhaiya extended the sword before his wide, eager eyes, encouraging him. "Want it?"

He nodded enthusiastically, his smaller hand wrapping around the hilt.

Neel rolled his eyes. "Now, how will the little prince wield that?" He sighed. "The sword weighs more than his Highness. He is pea sized."

Jay glared. "Just wait, and watch! I can lift it! You know what? I can even beat you in a single strike!"

He tried to uphold the sword when his bhaiya let go.

The tip of the sword toppled to the grass.

The sword... fell. Jay's hands held the hilt futilely.

Neel sputtered on laughter. 

He glared at his brother's best friend.

However, his bhaiya chuckled, helping him lift the sword by holding the blade between his fingertips and raising it. "The day you can lift this sword on your own, Mr. Maan will begin your lessons. Okay?"

"Mr. Neel, did you hear what my brother said?" Jay smirked.

Neel rolled his eyes, unamused. Though the corner of his lips tugged up faintly shortly after.

"No, your Highness."

Two months later, Maan Udawat, Neel's father, passed away in an attack that took away their father's life too. And with that loss came a gap that no one could fill, not even their bhaiya, not Neel or Neelakshi themselves.

Jay had wanted so desperately to honor the legacy, but every time he stepped onto the training grounds, he felt like he was falling short of people who were legends. Mr. Maan... his father... his brother...

He looked up as he snapped back to the present. The defeat burnt hot in his chest. He still couldn't beat Neel, not even after all these years...

"Your mind was not present in this fight," Neel commented coolly.

He sheathed his sword, seething when the manager, and also the ceremonial armory maintainer stepped in, presenting him back his sword after picking it up. "What more can my mind achieve? My life was literally on line with a blade close to it. I survived it. What more should I have done?"

Neel stared, unblinking. "This is not about survival, Prince Kshitij. This skill needs more than mere survival. Anyone can survive, but only the bravest live. Until you don't control your emotions, you can never win."

His grip tightened at the scabbard in one hand, knuckles turning white. 

Neel began to strip off his protective vest. "Pardon me, your Highness. But a restless mind is a greedy mind. A warrior raises his sword not to quell his pride and urge of slaying the enemy in front of him, but to protect everything dear to him. My sister and I can teach you the thousand lessons our father imparted to us, but to integrate them in your heart and soul, is your own journey."

He cracked his knuckles after handing out the sword to Girish so it could be securely put away.

He didn't want to hear that. He didn't want to be told he wasn't trying hard.

That he wasn't doing enough.

"I will beat you," he promised, and nodded, chin high. "I will defeat you one day."

Neel stared at him for a long moment, then looked down, away. "I look forward to that day," he murmured tiredly.

Silence settled between them. Just as Neel was about to step back, Prince Prithvi walked in. The older prince's eyes flickered between them, and Jay could see the hesitation in his brother's gaze. His brother wasn't sure what to say.

Neel took the opportunity to leave, offering a quiet nod to Prithvi.

His breath became heavy when Prithvi bhai's gaze found him. He knew why he was here.

"Rest, will you?"

"Cut the chase,  bhai. You're not here for me. You're here for that brat. Tell me again how much I have failed you."

"I have never said that."

"But that is all I ever do. Fail." Burden you.

He couldn't even win his own battles. How could he even think he would ever be good enough for his family? He lost national trials. He made Yuvi bhai lose a business contract. He couldn't even win against Neel, someone who wasn't even half as great as his own father and their bhaiya. 

He could never be perfect, he realized. He would never be enough.

"You don't. How many times should I drill it into your mind that you did your best? That's all that matters to us, baby bear. We will always be proud of you."

You don't. 

His mind echoed, not believing anyone. Irritation coiled in his chest. He glared.

"Stop distracting me, bhai. Talk about that brat." Besides, that's all you want to talk about.

He didn't even know when that thought crossed his mind. But it did. And now it was circling in his head like a vulture.

Everyone was worrying for that brat. Everyone was softening for him. What had that outsider achieved which he couldn't?

Just blood. Half of DNA. That was it? Then what did his efforts mean? 

He scoffed, taking off his combat vest and tossing into into the training room when he stormed past Prithvi bhai. He reached the West Wing lobby.

"Kshitij!"

"I don't want to talk," he yelled over, striding toward South West.

That brat had been here for barely two weeks, and already Prithvi bhai was gravitated towards him like he were something precious.

He didn't like the uncomfortable feeling brewing in his stomach. What was so special about that brat?

What was he lacking?

Jay turned when reached his room, letting Prithvi bhai enter before shutting the door.

"Talk about that brat."

"Before that, those pics. Delete them. That was brash of you."

"Fine, will do. Is that what you wanted to say?"

"You know it's not just that."

"Actually, I don't know! I'm not like that whore's son who knows everything because he seeks attention at every given opportunity. Tell me, what do you want me to do now? That all of a sudden I should be soft around him because he lost his mother? So what? Everyone here has lost someone. We lost our parents, our bhaiya. We didn't cry about it. How does he get to earn pity about it?" He scowled.

Prithvi closed his eyes for a brief second, inhaling tensely. When he exhaled, eyes opening, he seethed. "Is it what you think this is about?"

"Yes," Jay replied without missing a beat, chin high.

Prithvi shook his head, growing frustrated.  "I thought you'd changed when you came back from Malaysia. That Yuvi had drilled some sense into you for the first time. But clearly, both of you are still morons."

Jay chuckled bitterly, taking off his shirt, ready to hit the shower. "Yes, bhai. I'm the moron. I am the problem."

"Why are you always putting words into my mouth and twisting the narrative? I didn't say that."

Jay turned to him, slow. "You mean it, bhai. Not everything has to be said aloud."

Prithvi stepped forward. "What have I even said aloud yet? Do you ever try to listen to me? I only came to tell you to be a little more sensitive because he is new—"

"Which I don't want to do, bhai. Can't you see? I don't want to try!" What do my attempts even mean?

"Cool down," Prithvi gentled his voice.

"I won't!" He stormed up to his brother's face, chest heaving under the crushing weight of truth. "You know why?" His voice faltered. Because I can never be enough.

"Because I don't want to. This works on my rules. This is my home, my life, my brothers, and I won't centre my whole around a stanger who is a pathetic defilement of my father's sperm! You get it?"

"You started it," Prithvi glared sternly, slapping the back of Jay's head. He hit him again, though Jay didn't budge, face taut in restrained emotions. "You started it, Kshitij Rajvansh! You started it. Who is asking you to confine your whole world around him?- Nobody! You could have ignored him, but you didn't. Stop projecting your pain on others."

"It is not my fault that he is fragile! If we can toughen up, so can he!"

Jay turned around sharply, done with yelling at his older brother. He exhaled, nostrils flaring, running a restless hand through his hair.

"You're being too insensitive. Just because you can do it, doesn't mean everyone can."

"Everyone is capable, bhai. When life forces you to adapt, when survival is your only option, anyone can learn anything," Jay snapped, resentment tumbling out of his mouth. "He will learn it too eventually." He lifted his head with pride, turning back. "I refuse to shrink to accommodate space for someone who isn't even grateful for our kindness. I am resilient, and I know I'm. He doesn't get a right to make me a monster for it."

"You're not a monster."

I am. "But he's painting me to be." he chuckled, bitter. "No, really," His voice rose, head shaking in disbelief. "I didn't hit him. I didn't scream at him. I did nothing to harm him. I just teased him like brothers do. And he portrayed me a monster for it?"

"He didn't do that."

"He did." He swallowed the ache in his chest, at the memory of that brat when he looked at him he was exactly the kind of monster his imagination painted him to be. Like he were a threat.

He would become one though.

Prithvi sighed, stepping closer. His gaze softened. "It's not your fault. But, you can't hold everything in life being rough either. You have to learn gentleness, baby bear."

"Gentleness?" He laughed, cracked.

"Yes."

Jay shook his head slowly. This was ridiculous.
And yet it hurt. He would never be gentle.

"Why?" He asked, cruelly amused. "So, that I get hurt like you?"

Prithvi recoiled back, startled.

His eyes softened for a brief, fleeting moment, sadness flickering behind his firm glare. "One fallen angel is enough. I won't be like you," he gritted, anger twisting with grief.

Slowly, Prithvi's eyes brimmed with tears he struggled to blink back. He stepped back, nodding as he accepted his failures.

"I'm sorry, bhai." His gaze became dark, unreadable as he kept on confessing truthfully. "I'm tired of kindness. I'm incapable of it."

"You're right." Prithvi forced a smile, looking up. It didn't reach his tired eyes. "Don't be me. I'm not the best role model."

"No, bhai... It's..."complicated. Jay sighed, sincerity and exhaustion swirling in his gaze. Prithvi bhai wasn't awful. He was too kind, too human. And with that angelic nature came the tribulations pure souls bore. 

But Jay didn't want tribulations. He didn't want pain.

"No, baby bear. I absolutely... I absolutely agree. I'm a doormat. Yet, even as I confess it, and know it, my heart refuses to learn firmness. I'm emotionally weak. I don't know how to set boundaries. But, I'm proud that you know how to set boundaries, how to make your own place. I just..." Prithvi ran a hand over his mouth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, before lowering his hand. "I just don't want you to disregard the boundaries of others. You can play with ours because we're your family, and we understand you, but don't do it with others. Respect them."

He stared. Reminder dawning on him. he laughed. It broke mid-way at the hollowness of it. 

Harsh is 'others'.

"Fine." His gaze faltered as he turned back to the bathroom.

He realized, his brother was actually right. If he wanted that whore's son to stay a stranger, he would have to draw a firm line between his heart and that brat.

"Jay?" Prithvi asked, unsure at his brother's changed demeanor.

"No, really." He quirked a smile, regarding his brother momentarily. "You're right, bhai. From now on, I won't talk to him. I won't even look at him. I'll treat him exactly like what he desperately wants to be treated."

"And what's that?"

"A guest."

"That's not what I meant," Prithvi sighed, regretting and mentally cursing himself for brewing another misunderstanding.

"Too late," Jay cut harshly, storming off to the door. "I get it."

The door slammed loudly.

Prithvi stared, heart heavy at the closed door, not knowing if he had done the right thing.

Or unintentionally, the worst.

***

By the end of day, Harsh wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and stop existing. His limbs ached, mind had stopped functioning and he could barely stand up. Somehow, he managed to chew the food without collapsing.

Agney Rajvansh announced he would be leaving tonight, and wouldn't be present at the dinner tomorrow. Harsh didn't care much about his absence. He could go to the end of globe for he cared. After dinner, he brought in his books but couldn't focus. He collapsed onto the bed, his body aching, but his mind refused to slow down.

The harrowing emptiness gnawed at him again. His chest throbbed with that familiar, restless ache, the one that reminded him how hollow he was. It was like being underwater. He was near enough the world to see, but far enough to touch it. This was what he deserved though. He couldn't bridge the gap between the worlds. 

His mind fleeted back to the senior in the restroom, the lingering gaze that had made him wanted. Not cared. Not loved. Wanted. And even though he knew it was a shallow connection, it was a lie that made him less lonely.

Because truth could be merciless at times. 

People never wanted him for the real him. It was ugly, chaotic, destructive. But, being desired for his fake self was a delusion he couldn't deny himself. It was better than being abandoned and rejected. He could forget he was unworthy and undeserving. That, he could be chosen over the mess he was.
He got up, pacing the room, the restlessness inside him growing louder.

By morning, he thought he had officially lost his mind after juggling between self-pleasure, cart wheeling, reading, pacing, and finally rocking on his place, chanting to himself to not fall asleep. His nightmares were just around the corner, and the first thing he would pounce at the breakfast would be caffeine.

By three more hours, he had officially lost it, blankly staring at everything. He avoided even looking at Jay, who for some reason didn't bother him either. It amplified the feeling of dread, and every two seconds he crushed the urge to apologise for simply breathing. Throughout the day, he teetered on the edge of sleep, drifting in and out of consciousness. He even took a nap in the library when he couldn't walk to his next class anymore, eyes barely cracking open. Kruti approached him to finalise the concepts for their group project which promised they'd start tomorrow.

By the time evening came, he had skipped half of his lessons, drifting to restless sleep in his room since Agney Rajvansh wasn't in city today. He barely ate half of his dinner, at which Prithvi frowned. He faked he was feeling nauseous and would eat tomorrow, and the older prince took it as a valid excuse to ignore him. 

Of course he had sickened Prithvi too. His mind suddenly wanted to black out anyhow to not bear with the pressing ache in his chest. He wanted to forget everything.

              When nightmares returned, they returned whole, caging him in the same hell hole that had broken him in more ways than one. He tried to scream, but his body betrayed him, lips refusing to move he let it happen to him again. All over. Just as he thought that he was dying, couldn't breathe, something shook him awake.

"You're safe."

Warmth cocooned the side of his face. His eyes snapped at the foreign sensation, a gasp leaving him. 

A broad shouldered silhouette sat beside him, the lower half of the face covered by a black cloth, showing only the dark, consuming eyes.

Harsh froze, heart skipping a beat, before he jolted up, startled at the unknown presence.

The stranger froze too. He exhaled after a beat. "You were not supposed to wake up, kid."

A hand caught his arm and yanked him back just as the car screeched past, wind whipping his sleeve. It missed him only by an inch.

"Careful, kid," a voice spoke, face half covered in a black scarf from under his eyes. The man's eyes were dark and consuming. 

The accident.

"You," Harsh whispered, barely breathing. "You were the one..." his voice trailed off, mouth dry all of a sudden. 

His man's gaze softened with something unreadable. "This is the part where you should scream," he murmured. "There is a masked intruder in your locked room. You should call the guards. I can harm you."

His breath hitched, confusion, dread and terror all rearing an ugly head as a chill went down his spine.

Harm.

Tears welled his eyes, body locking up. He would be hurt now. Of course, nobody helped anyone for free. This man was here for it. He was here to take him! Heat crawled up his throat, pulse spiking up as he swallowed the dry sob threatening to spill over. He would be hurt. Used. Again. Just like his nightmares, like all those years ago.

"Scream?" His voice quivered, but he forced the words. "Why would I scream? You saved me."  He shuddered, pretending to smirk. 

The man frowned.

Panic clawed at his insides as when he saw the man was angry. His heartbeat pounded ferociously, blood roaring against his eardrums. If he didn't seduce him, the force would hurt more. He didn't want more pain. He would die.

"You came all this way to meet me," he murmured seductively, leaning in. His eyes shined with tears he refused to shed, "If you want something, just say so," he stuttered, muscles instinctively shutting down. The room titled as his skin prickled with cold terror. This was it. He had to want this, enjoy this. His heart went cold with terror. His vision blurred.

Before the sob could escape him, a sharp sting snapped across his forehead.

He jerked back. "Ouch!" He rubbed his forehead, tears spilling over at the sudden flick. "What was that for? Do you have a kink?"

The stranger's eyes hardened. "You're a kid."

His breath hitched, humiliation burning up his throat. He sniffed. "E-excuse me?"

The man glared. "You're scared. Drop the act."

His eyes widened as he shook his head, panicking. "No, I'm not. I-I want this. Seriously, you don't know how horny I've been. Besides, this is all I ever want. I'm serious, I want you."

The man wanted to scold the kid, protect him, shake him awake, but he couldn't. Not when the boy was refusing to listen, desperately shielding the thing that was hurting him the most. "You don't want this. You're just a child scared to say no."

The words sliced straight through his soul. His mask slipped, breath caught in fury. 

A child?
Now he was a child?

His stomach twisted violently.
The words scraped something raw and destructive inside him he didn't know he had.

Why was he a child now? Not back then? Why had his no meant nothing back then? Why did it matter now?

His hands curled into fists, vision going red at this cruel monster!

"Get, out," he choked, as molten hot tears began to fall down from his eyes. 

The man stood up immediately, giving a single, firm nod. "Goodnight."

Harsh squeezed his face into his palms, agony howling through him as the sobs tore free. In that moment, he wanted the universe to collapse, wanted everything to burn, everyone to die. He wanted the whole world to stop. 

He had been a child when he was used, repaying the 'love'. He had been a child when his body stopped belonging to him.

He was never spared. Never protected. Then why now?

His flushed, tear streaked face snapped up, enraged.  "How dare you—"

The words froze, anger draining at the empty air before him. He scrambled out of bed, terrifying hollow.

"Where did he go?" He cried to himself with intense regret, rushing to the adjacent room, but finding no one.

He turned and searched every corner, but the man had vanished into the thin air. He stared at the walls, empty, shaken.

The room felt wrong.

He was spared.

Everything was too quiet, too safe. 

His breath trembled. He wasn't used. He wasn't taken.

He was spared.

His stomach twisted, nauseous.

A child.

A child.

A child.

His breath hitched.

He had been a child once. 

A child. 

A child.

A child.

He clutched his forehead, the world titling. A buzzing sound began to rise in his head, drowning out everything else.

Who was he now? If he wasn't something to be used, something to be taken, then what was he?

He didn't know how to be anything else.

His heart thundered painfully, lungs beginning to collapse. His chest didn't move, breath straining to let in, and push out. Cold sweat broke out across his temples, a chill running down his body when he felt the same hand groping him again, his body pushed down. 

"I'm sorry, papa," he whispered, head becoming cloudy. 

He felt a phantom breath at his neck. 

The world around him dimmed at the edges, vision narrowing into a tunnel.

"No, no, no," he choked, pressing a shaking hand to his heart as a pang of pain stabbed it. His breath came out in ragged gasps. He felt like he was going to die!

He couldn't be safe. Safe meant unknown. Unknown meant danger because he didn't know how to defend himself.
His stomach lurched with nausea. He needed something familiar. He had to hide.

Prithvi bhai. 

He staggered to the door, legs weak.

Urgently pushing open the door, he stumbled out in the lit hallway. It tilted on, dark splotches dancing across his vision. He dashed.

"Your Highness!"

Muffled voices called over, not a thing making sense to him. 

Hands touched his shoulders, freezing his heart.

"Don't... please..." he whispered, too scared to protest.

He tried to reach for a pillar to hide himself as his vision began to fuzz, but slammed into something warm and sturdy instead.

Someone shook him at his spot, someone familiar, momentarily erasing the confusion.

"Harsh!"

Jay.

However, he couldn't move his eyes, breath frozen in his chest.

"Harsh? What the- Hey!" Jay's voice cut through. 

Harsh tried to speak, but his whole body shook, tears streaming down.

Jay's jaw clenched, eyes alarmed. His grip tightened, shaking him to earn a response. "Look at me! What happened? Speak up!"

His eyes flooded. He shook his head, unable to form words. He was trapped in his own body. He couldn't hold this anymore. He couldn't be helpless again.

His ears filled with a loud, muffled ringing.

His vision went black as he fell limp.

Author's note:

For my free readers on Scrollstack and Wattpad, I will update one episode per week on my Wattpad account.

— 4 episodes per month, in total.

However, paid readers will continue to enjoy around 8 episodes or more per month as I keep on writing, with additional perks such as— teasers, little spoilers and more hints!

You won't find those special features in my regular weekly updates.

Next free update on Wattpad on 7th December for my regular readers.