Oblivion | Alec Volturi |

Part I: 02

"Elliot, you need to be quiet, please. It'll be okay, you just need to be quiet," Annalise told her little brother hushed but frantic as she smoothed back the hair that was sticking to his sweaty forehead.

How had he gotten so sick, so fast? she thought, terrified. What were they supposed to do?  

Her six-year-old brother let out a pathetic, pained moan before burying his face in her lap, weakly holding her hand. Beside her, Theodore looked at her, panicked, "What do we do?" he whispered, "He needs a doctor but if we bring him to one, he'll see all of the marks from father and then he'll go to father and father will kill him."

Annalise shook her head, lost. "I don't know," she admitted quietly, "Is father asleep yet? He returned home from court early today, he should be asleep, I would think," she said to herself, panicking over what would happen if her father walked in on the three of them. She couldn't even imagine what her father would do seeing Elliot in such a weak state. He had always gone after Elliot the most out of the three of them and as much as Annalise and Theodore had tried to deflect their father's anger towards them, sometimes they weren't there and it killed her to come home from court to see that her father had gotten home before her and Theodore and Elliot was curled up into a ball on the floor near his bed, bruised and bloody.

"I'll go check," Theodore said, standing up and Annalise grabbed his hand.

"If he's asleep," she began, "bring a damp washcloth, okay? We need to try and get his fever down."

Theodore nodded and took off. Annalise turned her attention to their baby brother and began unbuttoning his top layers so he could lose heat more easily through his skin and hopefully lower the fever. Elliot didn't even react as she shifted him out of his clothes and Annalise grimaced. She gently ran her fingers through his hair and Elliot let out a soft breath, unconsciously leaning into her touch.

This was all his fault, she thought bitterly, internally cursing her father. She could bring him to a doctor, of course, but her father quite literally had every single doctor in the vicinity in his pocket and it would only lead to more pain and possibly death and Annalise knew damn well that her father wouldn't even be questioned for Elliot's death because he held too much power.

One day, she swore, one day she would kill him.

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She stood behind where her father sat at their place near the King as he held a council meeting near his chambers, discussing events taking place and the state of the kingdom. 

She had been slightly shocked, at first, when her father had first told her to join him in the council meetings three months after Elliot's near-fatal sickness due to what his request implied. Her father had chosen his successor and unlike the rest of the Lords of the court, it wasn't his firstborn son. She wasn't entirely surprised, and neither was Theodore. Annalise reminded their father of their mother and thus it was only natural that he appreciated her presence more. Not only that, though loathe she admit it, Theodore wasn't cut out for the brutality of the royal court - he would do anything to protect Annalise and Elliot, yes, but he would still feel guilty and guilt was simply not allowed if you wanted to survive the royal court. Annalise, on the other hand, felt no shame or wrongdoing in destroying those that wished to harm her family.

She planned everything carefully - there was no giggling, no simpering. Annalise was observant, understated, clever. By the age of fourteen, she had made herself an indispensable ally in the court's world of whispers and backstabbing with her poisonous words and saccharine smiles. By the age of fifteen, no one dared to cross her and, by proxy, her brothers.