People think being rich means life is easy. Those people have never met Ardyn Veyther or Therion Duskbane. I should know - I've been stuck with these two idiots since we were kids.
Ardyn is what happens when you take every romantic novel cliché and stuff them into one stupidly pretty package. Tall, blond, with eyes like the ocean or whatever poetic nonsense people say about him. The worst part? He doesn't even try. The man could wear a potato sack and still make it look like high fashion. Last week at some boring garden party, he literally just stood there eating a cucumber sandwich and three girls pretended to faint. Three! I've seen better acting in children's plays.
"Stop that," I told him after the fifth 'accidental' glove dropping incident.
He blinked at me like a confused puppy. "Stop what?"
"Existing so... prettily!"
Meanwhile Therion was busy being his usual disaster self, teleporting in and out of the dessert table to steal tarts. Because apparently that's less embarrassing than dealing with Ardyn's fan club.
The stupid thing is Ardyn doesn't even notice half the time. Girls sigh when he walks by. Old ladies pinch his cheeks. Even stray dogs follow him home. Meanwhile I have to glare knives at people just to get a second cup of tea at these parties.
But it's not all free cakes and good luck. For every person who loves Ardyn on sight, there's some jealous jerk who wants to punch him for breathing too elegantly. Last month some lord's son challenged him to a duel because Ardyn "looked at his fiancée." He was reading a book at the time! With his face! How is that a crime?
"Maybe I should wear a mask," Ardyn said after the third duel challenge that week.
I threw a bread roll at his head. "You'd just look mysterious and tragic."
Therion nodded. "He tried glasses once. Made him look 'sensitive and scholarly.' People started writing him poetry."
Useless. Both of them.
The funny thing is, Ardyn actually hates the attention. You'd think being the most beautiful man in every room would be great, but it just makes him uncomfortable. Once I caught him scrubbing at his face like he could wash the pretty off. Like it was his fault people were stupid.
That's when I realized - his beauty isn't a gift. It's a target. People either want to own him or break him, and neither option is good.
So yeah, my friends are ridiculous. One's too handsome for his own good, the other's a walking teleportation accident. But they're my ridiculous disasters, and if anyone tries to hurt them, they'll learn why the Lancasters have been banned from seven noble houses.
At least Therion's problems are simple. If he teleports into a wall, I can yell at him. If he phases through the floor, I can throw a rope. But what do you do when someone's crime is having a face that makes people stupid?
Answer: Carry more knives.