Oliver looked past Ryan, his eyes tracking the the dining room as a warm, genuinely nostalgic smile softened his usually rigid old features.
"He was a vibrant, fiercely stubborn young man, Master Ryan," Oliver begun, his voice thick with fond memories. "This very pizza on your plate was always his terms of surrender. He would spend the entire day out in the courtyard cages playing with the Doctor's German Shepherds, Cerberus, Erebus, and the strongest one, whom he conceitedly named after himself. He would come inside smelling entirely of a kennel, bartering with me through his heavy oak door for just 'one more hour' of sleep."
Ryan lowered his slice of pizza, his fork resting heavily against the silver platter. The description felt entirely unreasonable, like the old butler was speaking to him about an entirely different person.
"He hated the lack of privacy," Oliver continued, a chuckle escaping his throat. "I remember one morning, he flatly refused to put on a shirt for breakfast. He stood in the corridor, striking a pose and flexing, telling me the man who could make him wear a shirt in his own house had yet to be born. I planted my feet on the rug and pushed against his chest with everything I had. It was like trying to move the side of a mountain. He didn't budge an inch. He just grinned, called me a baldy, and told me I was jealous of his hair."
Oliver's expression turned deeply reverent. "Dr. Vogelbaum was standing in the shadow of the doorway, watching us. When I finally gave up and smoothed my vest, I noticed the Doctor had tears in his eyes. Later that evening, the Doctor told me that watching Erasmus play-fight with me was the ultimate proof of his compassion. He said a boy who possessed the absolute power of a god, but chose to be gentle and playful instead... that was a boy with a truly good heart."
"If he was so kind..." Ryan started. He looked up at the old butler. "Then why is he so cold to me? Why does he keep calling me his half-brother, like I'm only half a person to him? How can you say he's kind when he... when he hurts people?"
"Because you must understand the burden he carries now, Master Ryan. To a boy who grew up hidden away in this estate, the bond he shares with his father is the only thing in this world that is truly, exclusively his. When he keeps that 'half' between you, he is guarding that bond. But more than that... I believe he is trying to protect you."
Oliver extended a hand, gently placing it on Ryan's shoulder.
"Your eldest brother is a very smart, highly intuitive boy. He knows the dark, corrupt, violent world he must walk in to stand by his father's side. He knows the sacrifices it takes to survive it. By keeping you at a distance, the gentle, playful boy who grew up in this house is keeping you separate from that darkness. He is keeping you safe."
Ryan went quiet after hearing the old butler words. His mind was filled with more confusion than ever. Even after hearing the butler's reassuring words, a deep sense of confusion and doubt tugged at him.
Ryan had to admit there was a shred of truth. Erasmus wasn't kind, not by a long shot. But he hadn't been cruel, either. He hadn't mocked him or threatened him; he had just been brutally, flawlessly honest.
He was an undeniable force of nature. Sitting there, feeling small and fragile at the end of the massive table, Ryan felt a secret, aching envy rise up in his chest. He wished he could be like that. Powerful. Sharp. Unbothered by the world.
"Oliver?" Ryan asked again.
"Yes, Master Ryan" Oliver replied, his posture perfectly straight, his expression attentive.
"How can I be like him?" Ryan looked up, his eyes wide and searching. "How do I become smart and intuitive, like you said he is?"
Oliver opened his mouth to answer automatically, a reassuring, polished smile already forming on his lips. "Why, Master Erasmus was provided with the absolute finest" The words died in the his throat.
Oliver froze, his hand stopping completely over the silver platter. He searched and searched in his mind, but he couldn't recall any tutors. He tried to think of a name, a face, or a single lesson, but nothing came up.
"Well... he did read a lot of books," Oliver said, his voice shaking slightly as his perfect composure started to slip. "And the Doctor... the Doctor must have taught him. But he was, as I said, smart from a young age. And very intuitive. I'm sorry, Master Ryan... oh, what a terrible headache."
Oliver took his hand off Ryan's shoulder, raising it to rub his temple again.
"Are you alright?" Ryan asked, watching him closely.
"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine," Oliver said, forcing a weak smile. "It's just a little headache. It will pass."
Ryan stared at him. "Then... if he never harmed anything here, and he never fought... how does he fight so well? How do I do that?"
Oliver searched his mind again, but just like before, there was absolutely nothing. He remembered a gentle boy who played with puppies, a boy who Dr. Vogelbaum said wouldn't hurt a fly. He had no memory of Erasmus ever lifting a hand in anger, let alone learning how to kill people.
"Vought..." Oliver stammered. "Vought must have trained him. Yes. Or... or his father. Once he left the estate, they must have... changed him. Our Erasmus would never... our little young master never even hurt a fly."
BOOM
BOOM
Oliver blinked, the concussive waves momentarily snapping him out of the fogged, aching loop in his mind. He quickly smoothed his vest, forcing his posture back into the perfect, rigid posture.
"Forgive me, Master Ryan," Oliver said, his voice instantly dropping back into his formal butler voice. "It seems we have arrivals. Excuse me."
Oliver reached the grand entrance, grasped the heavy brass handles, and pulled the massive doors open. Standing side by side on the threshold, completely filling the frame, were Erasmus and Homelander.
"Welcome home, Master Erasmus," Oliver said, bowing his head. The presence of his beloved young master seemed to completely fix the faltering machine that was his mind, instantly snapping him out of the painful fog.
Erasmus smiled. His voice was calm and gentle as he looked at the old man. "Thank you, Oliver."
Well, there may be even more truth to the old butler's words. If his eyes weren't lying to him, Ryan just saw his brother smile. And not his calm smile, a real smile.
"Father," Erasmus said, his voice smooth and perfectly steady. "This is Oliver. He has managed the estate for as long as I can remember. He also took care of me as I grew up."
The words took care of me as I grew up hit Homelander like a slap. A wave of intense irritation and jealousy rolled off him, his posture instantly stiffening. He could hear the old man's heartbeat, steady and full of affection for Erasmus, and it made him want to laser the man right through the chest.
He was the one who was supposed to name his son, yet this old thing and Vogelbaum did. He was supposed to watch his son grow, yet they did. He was supposed to take care of him, yet they did. Every single milestone that belonged to him as a father had been stolen by these people.
"A servant huh?," Homelander muttered. He didn't even bother to offer a hand. His casual interest in the old man vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced instantly by a sharp, burning hatred.
"Not a servant," Erasmus corrected instantly.
Homelander's jaw clenched, his entire body stiffening even more. The fake smile on his face strained to the absolute breaking point, his knuckles turning white as he forced himself not to lose his temper and antagonize his son.
"Oliver is not a servant. He never has been. Never will be," Erasmus added, looking gently at the old butler.
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Hey everyone! The author here.
I wanted to let you know that I've officially set up a Patreon. If anyone feels like supporting me and the story, you can check it out! Just a heads-up: there won't be any advanced chapters or special perks locked behind a paywall. It is strictly a tip jar for pure donations if you want to support my writing journey.
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