Elias was crowned Head of the Royal Army when he was 16 and Fitz was 12. For five years, Fitz could do nothing but sit on the sidelines as he watched his brother parade around the kingdom, hailed for his bravery and brilliance when Fitz himself possessed those very same qualities, if not better. 

Elias was 21 and Fitz was 17 when Fitz was finally given a legion of his own to command. Much smaller and less prestigious than Elias's, but a legion nonetheless. For the next three years, Fitz's jealousy turned to resentment at Elias's triumphs and achievements, when his own legion went overlooked and forgotten. It didn't help that Elias's glory was beginning to get to his head, gloating over dinner about his latest victories. 

"Oh, Fitz, you're still stuck with domestic duties?" He would say with a smug smirk. "Shame. While I've been out fighting the Eastern Kingdom, you've been going around collecting taxes. I can't imagine, though that's the only job you're capable enough of carrying out."

Fitz would stand up, take his food back to his room, and choke it down while trying not to vomit from the sheer rage coiling in his core. 

Elias was 24 and Fitz was 20 when the younger prince finally snapped, unable to bear his brother's prestige, while he himself was pushed aside and left to rot. It was obvious who was the favorite brother with a bright career and future, and it wasn't Fitz. It was about time he did something about it. 

Elias was alarmed and confused when he received word that his brother had gone missing from his legion along the Southern border. Not five minutes after reading the news, a golden hawk had flown in through his window with a letter. 

That evening, Elias strapped on his fighting leathers and slung his gold sword over his shoulder, years of battle experience taking the edge off his nerves. After all, it was only his little brother, not an enemy legion. Fitz barely had any battle experience, having never been deployed. If Fitz really wanted to duel Elias, that would be to his own detriment. 

Elias shook his head and tutted. This was why Fitz never got far in his military career: he was too brash. Too reckless. He picked battles without realizing how outmatched he was. 

Elias arrived at the Woods half an hour later. There was no sign of Fitz, but a creeping instinct led Elias to draw his sword. He waited, his feet shifted to a defensive position, ready to burst into action at any moment. 

Just then, an arrow came streaking from the thicket. Elias lurched to the side, the arrow barely missing by an inch. It slammed into the tree trunk behind him, where his face had been half a second ago. Before Elias could pinpoint the shooter, the arrow burst in an explosion of white powder, blinding Elias and swallowing up his surroundings. 

Elias broke into uncontrollable coughing as the powder was sucked into his lungs. He couldn't see anything but whiteness, hanging like a dense fog around him and him alone. 

Something blunt hit him across the head. Elias fell with a yell, squinting, but couldn't see his attacker. Where he was. All he could see was white, white, white. 

"Fitz!" He yelled, heaving himself to his feet, skull throbbing. "What are you doing??"

A familiar chuckle, so silent it was little more than a puff of air. Elias whipped around, lashing out with his sword. He hit nothing. Instead, pain exploded along his left shoulder, causing him to cry out. He looked down and beheld a gaping wound, jagged and cascading with blood. He could've sworn he caught the glimpse of a bloodied silver dagger flashing in the fog. 

He hadn't believed it, that his brother would actually try to kill him. But if Fitz was willing to stab Elias in the shoulder, where he could've easily hit a major artery, then Fitz would be willing to do much worse. Elias needed to run before he either bled out or Fitz personally finished him off.

The white fog was disorienting, but Elias knew he'd left his horse at the edge of the Woods and walked south. That meant he had to travel north to return. 

He pulled out his pocket compass, one he carried wherever he went, and prayed for the needle to orient itself. The back of his neck prickled, and he whirled around and swung his sword in an arc out of pure training and instinct. 

It clashed with another blade, gold on silver, parrying the blow that was about to plunge straight into his spine. The silver sword vanished back into the fog, and this time, Elias caught a swift shadow moving along with it. 

Elias looked down at his compass, now oriented. Without a second glance, he sprinted northwards, tripping over bushes and tree roots hidden by the dense fog. His lungs were beginning to burn from inhaling the powder, and he prayed it wasn't toxic. 

Elias burst from the fog and into a patch of sunlight, coughing and covered in a layer of the white powder. A silent footstep landed behind him and he spun, slashing his sword. Fitz jumped back as Elias's sword nicked his chest, hissing in pain. 

Now Elias could see the younger prince perfectly. Fitz had a wild look in his eyes, flashing with a hungry ache for revenge. For Elias's downfall. Elias understood that now; that Fitz's jealousy had pushed him over the edge. His need for validation had poisoned him so much that killing his brother was the only way to quench the burning fire within. 

But Fitz had forgotten that there was a reason Elias had been given the highest title instead of him. Elias's higher training and natural swiftness meant he had the upper hand in his duel. Elias and Fitz sparred, clashing their blades again and again, Elias landing more blows than Fitz. The brothers fought and jumped and stabbed and parried. Finally, Elias knocked Fitz to the forest floor. He held his blade to Fitz's throat before he could get up, a devilish smirk spreading across the younger prince's face. 

"You won't kill me," Fitz chuckled, spitting a wad of blood. "You don't have the guts."

"You're my brother, Fitz," Elias said, his voice breaking. "I can't kill you."

Fitz just laughed; a raspy, garbled laugh. Then quick as a flash, he was gone, vanishing into the undergrowth with astonishing speed that left Elias stupefied. Elias fell to his knees, exhaustion and pain from his wounds lacing through his body. 

He should've helped his brother when he had the chance. He should've fought harder to give Fitz the recognition he deserved, should've never let pride take over and gloat in his face about it. Everything had pushed Fitz over the edge, and Elias hadn't realized until this moment. 

Fitz returned to his hideout, more plans brewing in his bitter mind. A new fire raged in his deep black eyes as he washed the blood from his skin, biting down screams of pain as he washed out his wounds. Wounds that Elias had inflicted with his own blade.  

"Oh brother dear," Fitz chuckled with a wicked grin. "This is far, far from over."