Siblings Equally Infuriating

The heavy door of the royal council room closed behind him.

Not slammed—Isac was far too controlled for that—but loud enough to make it clear just how fed up he was with the room he had just left. His face was expressionless, jaw clenched, and his long strides echoed off the overly polished marble corridors. Crystal chandeliers reflected light across the floor, while portraits of the Vaelmont ancestors seemed to stare sharply from the walls, as if judging every movement.

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t intend to stop.

“Isac.”

The voice followed him, calm but unmistakably clear—far too clear to be ignored.

Isac kept walking.

“Isac Lucent Vaelmont,” the voice repeated, now closer. “You do realize ignoring me will only make me talk even longer.”

Isac stopped. Not because the words affected him, but because the stride beside him now matched his own. Iliyas Lucent Vaelmont—the Crown Prince of Vaelmont—walked with his hands tucked into his coat pockets, a calm expression on his face and that faint smile that always made Isac want to roll his eyes… if he were the type of person who actually showed it.

“Finished giving everyone headaches?” Iliyas asked lightly.

Isac stared straight ahead. “Yes.”

“Excellent,” Iliyas nodded, smirking faintly. “Because our father just lost his patience, the advisors lost sleep, and I lost all faith that you’d ever stop making international headlines.”

Silence.

Isac resumed walking.

Iliyas matched his pace effortlessly, his leather shoes clicking softly against the floor. “Do you know how many emails flooded in this morning? Embassies. Foreign media. Even neighboring kingdoms. Everyone is curious. Curious about you—and about the chaos you’ve created.”

Another silence.

“Isac, you really are something,” Iliyas continued, clearly enjoying his own monologue. “Some people spend years trying to make a single scandal. You? Just one morning.”

Isac came to a sudden halt. Iliyas almost collided with him.

“Oh, finally you stop,” said the crown prince, exhaling in relief. “I thought I’d have to go on nagging until night. But here you are… silent. Like a walking marble statue.”

Isac turned his head slowly. His gaze was flat. Sharp. “Finished?”

“Not yet,” Iliyas replied quickly. “I’m just warming up. This is just the beginning.”

Isac turned back and continued walking.

Iliyas chuckled. “You know, if anyone else had done what you did today, they would’ve been locked away in the west wing, given lessons in etiquette, and forbidden from speaking for a week. But you? You stood in the council room, defying everyone, and walked away without a word of farewell. Impressive… and insane.”

Silence.

“Brave,” Iliyas added. “Even your older brother—the rightful heir—was left speechless.”

Isac finally spoke, briefly. “You’re not done yet.”

“Oh?” Iliyas turned his head, eyebrows raised. “Interesting. So you admit this is just the first round?”

Isac didn’t answer.

The corridor began to empty. It was just the two of them now. Guards maintained a careful distance—close enough to protect, far enough not to overhear a conversation that, if leaked, could become another scandal.

Iliyas stopped walking. This time, it was Isac who had to stop because the voice was right behind him.

“By the way,” Iliyas said, his tone shifting slightly. Still casual, but with a deliberate edge meant to provoke.

“You’re bold, you know that?”

Isac turned his head again. “What do you mean?”

Iliyas smiled wide. Finally, his younger brother took the bait.

“I mean… just how far have you gone, really?”

A fraction of a second of silence.

“How many times?” Iliyas continued lightly, as if discussing the weather. “Until everyone jumped to the conclusion that she’s pregnant. Don’t you know there’s such a thing as a condom in this world?”

Buuagh.

Isac’s hand moved faster than thought could follow. One step forward. One hard swing.

And—halted.

His wrist was caught just before the punch could hit Iliyas’s face.

The crown prince let out a long, measured sigh, as if he had anticipated this. “Ah. There it is.”

Isac stared, dark eyes blazing, breath heavy. “Let go.”

“No,” Iliyas replied calmly. “Not here.”

“Let go,” Isac repeated, quieter, more dangerous.

Iliyas didn’t budge. His grip was firm but not hurting. “If you want to hit me, do it somewhere outside the palace.”

Isac’s lips curled into a cold smirk. “I don’t care.”

“Isac,” Iliyas said, still casual, but now serious. “You do realize what that counts as?”

Isac snorted. “Threatening the life of a royal family member. I know.”

“Good,” said Iliyas. “At least your brain still works.”

Isac yanked his hand sharply. Iliyas released, but stayed in place, completely unshaken.

“You’re always like this,” Iliyas said, softer now, but still chatty. “Silent, cold, and then explode without warning. People think you’re a monster.”

Isac answered flatly. “That’s their problem.”

“No,” Iliyas shook his head. “That’s our problem.”

Isac turned, studying his older brother longer than usual. “Since when did you care?”

Iliyas paused. Then shrugged. “Since you decided to protect someone in front of everyone.”

Isac didn’t answer immediately.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Iliyas continued. “All this time, you’ve always been the problem we had to cover up. And now… you’re a problem you’ve chosen yourself.”

Isac looked straight ahead. “I never asked for your approval. I never asked the kingdom to cover my scandals.”

“Good,” Iliyas chuckled. “Because I wasn’t going to give it anyway.”

He stepped closer and lightly patted Isac’s shoulder—a gesture that would normally be rejected, but this time… it was allowed.

“But one thing,” Iliyas said quietly. “If you’ve gone this far, don’t go halfway.”

Isac finally turned to him. “What do you mean?”

Iliyas’s faint smile returned. “Protecting someone isn’t just standing in a council room and playing the hero. It means you’re ready to face every consequence. Including me, nagging in your ear, just like this morning.”

Isac exhaled softly. Almost inaudible. “Infuriating.”

“Thank you,” Iliyas said cheerfully. “That’s a talent.”

He stepped away first, then paused for a moment. “Oh, Isac?”

“Hm?”

“If you plan to hit me later,” Iliyas said casually, waving a hand, “let me know first. I’ll wear something suitable.”

Isac stared at his brother’s retreating back. For a fleeting second—just a fleeting second—the corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile.

“Say hello to my future sister-in-law and your future child!” Iliyas called.

And Isac nearly tripped.

Damn crown prince!

----

Isac’s Private Residence

Sera was waiting.

She didn’t know what she was waiting for. An answer? Assurance? Or just the end of all this.

When Isac returned, his face looked exhausted. But his eyes—those eyes—were far too focused.

“They’ll stop pressuring you,” Isac said. “At least from the inside.”

“And from the outside?” Sera asked.

Isac didn’t answer immediately. That alone was enough answer.

“How long?” she asked again.

“I don’t know.”

Sera nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Isac stared at her, surprised. “That’s it?”

“I don’t have the energy to argue anymore,” Sera admitted honestly. “I’ve lost today.”

Isac stepped closer. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Sera interrupted gently, but it pierced all the same. “Good intentions don’t always feel good.”

Silence fell again.

“If I stay here,” Sera continued, looking him straight in the eye, “it’s not because I fully trust you.”

Isac nodded. “I know.”

“It’s because the world outside gave me no choice.”

“I know that too.”

Sera took a long breath. “And don’t get me wrong, Your Highness. I will endure. But I will not stay silent.”

The corner of Isac’s lips lifted slightly. Almost a smile. “I never expected you to be silent.”

For a moment—just a moment—they looked at each other without anger.

Two stubborn souls trapped in the same storm.

And without a single word spoken aloud, they both knew:

This was only the beginning.