#sooooooooo....

He always understood why his parents preferred his sister. She was brilliant, and almost never acted out. The model citizen, with magic, to top it all off. Hell, he preferred her to himself too, and supported her. But what he never quite understood was why he couldn't be special. Why he couldn't have something good for himself. Just once. That's all he wanted.

Just one day to not live in his twin's long cast shadow, to not feel the sharp ache in his soul.

He longed for something to alleviate the burden. He was never a good student. He wasn't talented at things people thought were 'good'. But what he could do was turn a phrase, get a quick read on people, and speak with words sweeter than honey and smoother than water. And people were so rarely the wiser.

That was where he shone. That was where his sister couldn't even hold a torch to his ability. That was where he lived, and where he excelled.

Oh, but there were three special ones. Three extraordinarily special people.

One of the three drank in his words as though he had been lost in a desert for years. He depended on him. Thought him his best friend. Trusted his every word, his every move, his every plan. He lost his father, and was so lost. Lykas gave one smile, one honeyed phrase, and that was all it took for him to be put on the same tier as that hero of the boy's.

He rather liked the attention. He even cared for the boy at first. But then he realized that care was dangerous. Love was a destroyer of people. He shoved the feelings into a box and locked them away. The boy was only an asset, even if he was a skilled one. A top notch assassin, if he let himself be. Lykas took pride in molding that assassin, but he knew that the game he played was dangerous. He simply needed to stay in control of the boy, but he was smarter than he let on to anyone, and Lykas was only too aware. A part of him still despised using the boy, still hated the trials he orchestrated for such a broken child to go through, but it was all in the interest of tempering him into a fine blade. A blade no one could match, and a blade that he would wield.

The second of the three was strange to Lykas. He knew that the bard rarely meant anything, that he lied, and that he was using the boy. This one was a man, and a wise one. Lykas never liked those. It felt like he was being looked right through, and any mask he held was invisible. The man sought to protect the boy, it seemed, but he never told him of the bard's true intent. Why this was, Lykas never understood, but so long as the boy didn't believe the man, he could continue to remain the puppet master.

They fought, yes. But the boy never let it get too far. He never let the man hurt Lykas, nor Lykas hurt him. He sought peace. A foolish path to take, full of strife and folly. It was, however, a path encouraged by the man, and discouraged by the bard. He hated it.

And the last of the three... oh, her.... Lykas felt so deeply for her. His soul ached for her touch, and his mind begged for her words. But love was dangerous. Love wasn't contentment, it was war in all its glory and pain. He loved her. It was a slow love, the type that spread like grass. A small patch was all it took, and then it spread. It grew tall, and he couldn't see the horizon for it anymore. He knew her from his childhood. She was a dear friend, but his honeyed words faltered in front of her. Every single time. So he pushed her away gradually. No one could see the monster that lurk below. Not then, not now.

She returned to his life in the blink of an eye, many seasons and years later. He was not prepared for it. She was more beautiful than ever, and had a quality of quiet strength he'd never seen before. It wasn't loud or brash, or even cocky. It was like a deep river. The surface was calm, but below lay powerful currents that swept you away. She wasn't perfect... but she was to him. And that was why she was so dangerous. It didn't stop that deep seated longing for her love, though.

“Mh-? Lykas, you still up?”

The bard blinked in surprise, looking to the barely awake figure of Jace. The boy in the suit of a man. Lykas gave another of his charming smiles, “Oh, just thinking, Ace. I wasn't aware I was disturbing you.”

“Ya weren't.” He grumbled, shifting into a sitting position and glancing at the campfire. The assassin remained silent for a few moments before speaking. “... If it's because of the gypsy, you know that he's just... extreme sometimes. I'm sure he didn't mean it.”

Lykas felt his upper lip twitch a bit in the beginnings of a snarl at the mention of the fight, but quickly disguised it. “... Oh, I don't take it personally, Ace. How can one expect anything less from someone... like him?”

Jace blinked, mildly bewildered as he met the bard's gaze. “... What'd'ya mean 'like him'?”

“Someone from one of those... horribly uncivilized tribes, you understand.” This was his chance to try and influence the boy against his greatest rival. Perfect.

The raven-haired man blinked a few times in process, before shaking his head slightly, looking back to the fire. “... Eh, I don't think he's that bad. More civilized than some people I've met.”

Lykas resisted the urge to snarl, instead giving a perfect smile. “... Maybe I am mistaken, but.....” He trailed off with a shrug. The 'but' would cause Jace to question it. He knew it would. “You should get some rest, Ace. I'll be fine. Honest.”