born of milk and love
a scott-centric empires s1 fic about his brother.
word count: 8,691
relevant tags and notes: this was written as a companion fic to my mdbb fic. you don’t need to have read that fic to read this one, but a quick run-down of info you might want to know is in the first author’s note on the ao3 link. pre- and post-canon content, some flower husbands content
read on ao3 || preview below
“Scott!”
Scott jumps out of his skin a bit when he hears his name hissed between bookshelves. Despite knowing exactly who it is, he looks around frantically, panicking when he doesn’t see anyone.
“▯▯▯▯?” he whispers, still trying to find where his brother is hiding. He hugs a thick leather tome to his chest.
After a second, a book slowly slides out from a bookshelf spine first, falling with a muffled thump on the gold carpet. As Scott watches, a chubby hand appears in the space where the book was. It awkwardly hangs there before more of the arm is shoved through, dislodging the books on either side of it, and twisting around to wave at him.
“You’re going to get in trouble,” Scott hisses, trying to hold back laughter.
Another hand appears and Scott watches his brother shove the two other books he’d loosened to the ground before hopping up on a shelf on his side. All he can see of the other boy is a lock of purple hair and a single dancing fuchsia eye.
“Hi, Scott,” he says, smiling toothily.
Scott smiles back, a giggle escaping despite his best attempts. “Hi, ▯▯▯▯.”
Before his twin can say anything, they hear a series of heavier footsteps making their way down the stone hallways. His twin lets out a squeak before hurriedly withdrawing from the bookshelf and scampering off. Scott’s about to loudly complain about cleaning up his mess when he reappears at the end of the shelf, rushing over to pick up the books he dropped down and shove them back in place.
“Don’t just stand there staring, idiot,” he says hurriedly. “Help me!”
“You did this to yourself,” Scott points out, but he puts his own book back before walking over and dutifully helping his brother clean up his mess before his parents noticed. He hears his father say something to the two of them, but he doesn’t recall those words.
There’s no continuation of this memory. It’s a single fragment, a piece of an idle childhood led by two boys who knew what their lives would be and how to seize it. It should be a perfect reflection of his childhood, of the simple joys that being young should give. Everything about it was polished in rose-tint, and yet he couldn’t view it that way.
Scott wonders why in even a memory so old and precious as this one, he cannot for the life of him remember his brother’s name.
☾○☽
Scott first meets the heir of the Grimlands on her tour of the lands, the strange practice that some of the human Empires employed to ensure that the continuation of their bloodline was well-documented everywhere. She is one of the sharpest people he’s ever met despite being five years younger than him, and they fall into an easy rapport that translates well into letters. Scott soon finds himself looking forward to such letters, even when his brother teases him for being so interested in what a woman has to say.
“▯▯▯▯, I’m gay. We’re both gay.”
“And yet you’re talking to a woman?” His twin peers over his shoulder. “With such perfect, impressive penmanship?”
“Fuck off,” Scott says, pushing him away.
His brother gasps. “Oh, Exor,” he breathes. “Scott? Little Scotty? Perfect little baby boy Scotty said a fuck word? Call the presses! Tell the papers!”
“Aeor’s antlers.” Scott is about to throw his hands in the air when he realizes that he’s still holding his quill. “Can I please finish this letter?”
“Oh, so now you’d rather talk to a girl than your own dear darling brother?” His twin sticks his nose in the air and sniffs haughtily. “I see how it is, straightie.”
“That’s not— I’m not— how did you make ‘straightie’ sound like a slur?” Scott sputters.
“Who says it isn’t one?”
“Me! I say it!”
His twin pouts at him. “Oh, poo. I thought I got that one past you.”
“Leave me alone, ▯▯▯▯,” Scott says, turning back to his letter. “I’m going to have to ask Father for permission to go into the archives to answer a question from here, and I’d rather write the rest of it up before doing that.”
“Nerd.” Before Scott can defend himself, his brother sweeps out of the room with one final, “See you later, idiot.”
“Nincompoop!” he shouts at the door.
“Who says ‘nincompoop’ anymore?” comes from down the hall.
“Boys! Stop shouting inside!” their dad calls from downstairs.
“Sorry, Dad!”
☾○☽
Hello, heir Scott! I hope you’re doing well— and yes, I know you hate your status being brought up, but cut a Grim heir some slack, I’ve got tutors breathing over my shoulder about this sort of formality.
To answer some of your questions: yes, multiples are well-documented in the Grim dynastic line. Some even say that our founder was himself a twin! Our succession isn’t guaranteed by birth order or anything, though; it’s not like the oldest of a set of triplets automatically is the most fit for ruling. Usually, any other siblings are trained in other tasks around the Empire so that the leader (the Count) can focus just on leading the Grimlands. There aren’t any set titles for the other positions those heirs attain; in the past few generations alone, there have been Smiths, Scientists, and even a Horsemaster, though that last one seems to be an exception and not a particularly historical example.
None of this is the information you asked for. I’d erase it if I didn’t write it all in ink.
Most of the documented sets of multiples in my family are fraternal twins, but there have been identical twins as well. There is only one record of mirror image identical twins. Those two were the third Grim Count and her brother; according to that Count’s journals, he served as simply her Advisor, and together they expanded the Grimlands’ trade routes all the way to far-off Pixandria. Not too much of a concern anymore, of course, but back then it was truly an accomplishment. It’s said they wrote new legal proposals together, side by side, one writing with their right hand while the other corrected with their left. Fun anecdote, perhaps, but no real evidence to show for it.
I hope this helps your research.
☾○☽
Scott has prayed to Aeor for as long as he could remember. He prays to Exor too, of course; you can’t deny one god over the other, even if you’re only the champion of one.
His twin joins him in his prayer today, and though Scott stares at him out of the corner of his eye, he doesn’t say anything about it until he’s standing and leaving the Church of Aeor and his twin is following behind.
“Are you good?” Scott asks, idly kicking a rock down the street.
“Yeah.” He sounds uncharacteristically downcast.
“You don’t sound very good,” Scott says.
His twin sighs loudly and glares at unlit candles at the side of the road. “Scott, have you ever thought about what it’ll be like when we become kings of this place?” he asks.
“Not really,” he admits. “We’d be living in the castle, I guess? And consulting Father about things that the court thinks are important. You’d be the one making the big decisions for Rivendell and I’d be talking to the other Empires for support. Just what the current Vaeorin and Xornoth do, I think.”
“I suppose.” His twin’s neck cranes as he stares at the sky. Scott looks at him with confusion before following his gaze up. “What’re you looking at?”
“Do you think the gods love us, Scott?” he asks.
“I’d hope so,” Scott replies, and the two of them stare as the sun crosses the sky. Scott feels his brother’s hand reach for his and they lock fingers, even now when they’re not children running down hills anymore.
