yeah yeah the distinct tragedy of colum asht being bred and born to serve as a battery for his necromancer and having next to no identity outside of his utility to the heir of his house we’ve all seen it. but at least he HAS that identity. what about poor ram and capris. imagine that you grow up knowing that there’s a 33% chance you’ll be genetically picked for this incredibly important (if also torturous and borderline unethical) position within your religion government. imagine you spend half of your life training for it, learning absolutely everything there is to know, JUST IN CASE it’s you that’s picked. and then you aren’t. and you have to keep on existing afterwards knowing that the whole purpose you were born for - the whole purpose you were CONCEIVED for - the whole reason that you’ve spent your life functioning as effectively one third of a whole human being - did not happen for you. but you have to keep going. what do you even do at that point
Once the Master Templar had been born and Colum Asht had been selected as the cavalier primary apparent, Ram Asht married quickly and moved out of their family home. This meant that where there had once been three boisterous boys growing into their faith and strength crammed into one small room, now there were two men, one having just become one, living in the same space together.
And, very frequently, sleeping in the same bed. And doing... other things, ones that were not explicitly disbarred by the Tome but still generally discouraged. But such things happened, Colum was sure, when it was only a pair of brothers instead of a trio, and when they were still so young that lust boiled in them as a volcano.
He still wasn't convinced that this ever would have happened if it had been Capris who had gone, and Ram who had stayed.
The first round of morning bells sounded, distant and only moderately cacophonous. Colum had woken up by this bell every day that he could remember, and Capris had not, every day that he could remember.
Colum pressed his right hand against Capris's shoulder, and it was warm. Everything in the bed was tantalizingly familiar and soft, and at this time of year the floor would be so cold it would make Colum's feet ache. And yet--
"C'mon, Capris," Colum mumbled, squirming in his middle brother's grasp, "I need to go."
Capris, as if in rebellion to the concept of being awake, squeezed his eyes closed, and his arm around Colum's hefty middle turned to iron. "The brat won't even remember yet if you're an hour late. Stay with me."
"Don't disrespect our Master Templar like that," Colum pushed back mildly, though he felt bad for the way Capris scowled in response. It had been a point of contention between them ever since the toddler Silas Octakiseron's birth, and it grated, but Colum feared it would never fully go away.
Capris's hand which had been resting on Colum's ample pectoral skirted up and found a home at the base of Colum's skull. He pulled Colum close, so close that Colum could feel the stray curls of Capris's hair along his collarbone.
"Stay," Capris urged, and then he kissed Colum.
Capris was a good kisser, and he always used that to its full potential. The kiss was soft, and slow, and nearly hypnotizing in quality. Colum nearly forgot where he was for the way Capris moved his lips against Colum's, for the way his fingernails scratched lightly over Colum's scalp and the way Capris clutched him so tight he had no space to wonder if he was important to the one holding him. Capris moved near the end, pulling their bodies closer together and suggesting more.
They could do more... Colum could have more...
But, he remembered where he was, who he was, when Capris pulled away to evaluate his handiwork, to assess whether his ploy had successfully ensnared his cavalier primary apparent brother.
"Did that work?" Capris's head thunk-ed down on Colum's bare chest. Colum's face must have given him the answer before Colum could disappoint him with words. "No? Ugh, fine, go then."
"I'm sorry," Colum whispered, and he didn't know why.
He got up out of bed five minutes late, in the end, and was not late to see his very young uncle.
