Castling Deceit

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟸: 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜

•AZIEL ARZHEL'S POV•

As I ascended the stairs, each step echoing in the stillness of the house, I felt a rush of emotions swirling within me. The familiar scent of wood and the faintest hint of cologne guided me to my eldest brother’s room. A mixture of gratitude and relief washed over me—grateful that he was taking time away from his busy life to listen to my problems, and relieved to have such a strong support system in place.

When I first opened up to Loix and Dad about my struggles, they listened, they supported me, they helped me get better and they encouraged me to try therapy. It took a lot of convincing on their part, but eventually, I gave in. For nearly two years, I attended those sessions, pouring out my fears and anxieties to a stranger who slowly became a lifeline. Gradually, I noticed the fog lifting. My therapist eventually suggested that I could stop coming to sessions, provided I promised to talk about any episodes I might experience with either Dad or Loix.

Don’t get me wrong—I love my Dad dearly. But there was something about opening up to Loix that felt different, a certain comfort that enveloped me like a warm blanket. Around that time, Dad had been busy launching his new gyms, pouring his heart into the project. Still, he always made sure to carve out time for us, checking in and ensuring we were doing okay. Loix, on the other hand, had naturally stepped into the role of a second parental figure ever since he became the Don of the Mafia. After Mom passed away and Dad fell into depression, he became a guardian to us younger ones, seamlessly blending into our lives. It wasn’t unusual for him to attend our parent-teacher meetings, drop us off and pick us up from school, or even ground us when we misbehaved.

As I pushed open the door to Loix’s room, I took in the straightforward decor. The space was gigantic, bold looking yet simple—a neatly made bed, a sleek desk with an iMac perched on it, and a sturdy desk chair. On either side of the bed stood nightstands, simple yet elegant, holding the usual assortment of books and knick-knacks. A bookshelf lined the wall, filled with an assortment of books that felt mundane to me, but perhaps they held worlds of interest for him. The entire room had a black and gold theme, similar to the one Estelle is staying in right now. Two doors stood at the far end of the room—one leading to a walk-in closet and the other to his en-suite bathroom.

Loix was seated on the edge of his bed, a look of warmth and understanding on his face. He patted the space beside him, inviting me to join him. I quietly moved to sit beside him, the weight of the world feeling a little lighter in that moment.

“So… what was it this time?” he asked gently, his voice soft yet laced with concern as he studied my face, searching for signs of distress.

“When I regained consciousness for the first time in that basement,” I replied, a shiver coursing through me as the vivid memories rushed back, each one laced with terror. The cold, damp walls of that place and the feeling of isolation were seared into my mind. Loix leaned in closer, his warmth offering a brief reprieve from the chill of those recollections. He wrapped his arms around me in a protective hug, holding me tightly as if to shield me from the shadows of my past. I allowed myself to relax in his embrace, if only for a moment, before we gradually pulled apart.

“Do you want to talk about what might have triggered it?” he asked, his brow furrowing deeper. “You haven’t had an episode in quite some time.” There was a genuine concern in his eyes, and I appreciated it, but I felt the weight of uncertainty in my chest.

I paused, letting the silence hang in the air as I considered my next words. His question lingered with me, forcing me to reflect on everything I had experienced. “Estelle…” I whispered, the name barely escaping my lips. Even in that fragile utterance, I sensed that he caught the gravity of it, the way the room seemed to still, as if acknowledging an unspoken truth.