? The Children We Couldn’t Be ?
The hall was cool and hushed in the late noon light, stone walls lined with dark wood and the floor echoing under their steps. Faded tapestries hung between tall windows, and the air smelled faintly of smoke from an old fire. The children’s footsteps carried softly as they followed the corridor toward Emily and Casper’s chambers.
Emily walked between Alex and Dante, her delicate frame nearly swallowed by her pale blue silk dress, which shimmered with every nervous motion. She kept glancing sideways, biting her lip before finally blurting:
“I—I wanted to say... you two are really something else! I mean—Casper and I were panicking and crying, but Alex was so calm, even if he was scared! And Dante was just—so funny! You weren’t afraid at all! You walked past that... that corpse like it was nothing!”
Dante slid his hands into his pockets, puffed his chest, and tipped his flat cap forward so his eyes were hidden. “Hmph... fear? A man like me doesn’t have time for it,” he said, his voice deliberately low, mysterious.
Emily’s eyes widened. “Hooooh…”
Casper let out a short laugh through his nose. “A man, is it? You flatter yourself. Alex carried the danger while you struck poses. If anything, you played the part of scenery—decorative, but hardly useful.”
“Come on, Casper,” Alex said, frowning. “Dante led us from the warehouse to the noble sector. He deserves some credit.”
“Yes,” Casper replied dryly. “Just as a horse—pulling a carriage deserves credit. You’re right.”
Dante froze, lips curling into a strained, peaceful smile. Inside, he was seething.
“Hey, Casper!” Emily stamped her foot. “Don’t call him a donkey or a horse!”
“You’re as ignorant as always,” he muttered. “One of us has to stay sharp, right?”
“But he saved us!” she protested. “I trust them with our lives!”
Casper kept walking, not even glancing back. “Trust them with yours. Leave mine alone.”
Her smile faltered. She blinked rapidly, struggling not to cry.
Alex stepped in then—soft-spoken but steady, the warmth in his voice like balm. “H-Hey, come on now... go easy on her. She didn’t mean anything bad.”
“I didn’t insult her,” Casper said coolly. “She just always cries for nothing.”
“Okay guys—seriously,” Dante said, running a hand through his hair, his voice dry. “Let’s not ruin the day. Your parents might not like it if we arrive bickering.”
“That’s right,” Alex added gently. “Emily, how about we play a game or something? Casper told us you wanted to spend time with us.”
Emily’s eyes were wet, her voice small. “I won’t play anything with him until he apologizes.”
“Keep dreaming,” muttered Casper, arms crossed, pace unbroken.
They continued walking. Light from the chandeliers dappled across their faces, casting flickers of gold on furrowed brows and soft, uncertain smiles.
Then, softly, almost as if he were speaking only to the floor beneath his feet, Alex said:
“Emily... He might sound harsh, but he cares about you.”
She sniffled. “What do you mean?”
“Back in the warehouse... The first thing he said when he woke up was your name. He was panicking looking for you.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. Her lips parted, but no sound came. She turned her head and quickly wiped her eyes with her hand.
A few steps ahead, Casper—still walking, his back rigid—called over his shoulder, almost grumbling:
“Hey. Are we playing something or not?”
Emily let out a breath, smiling faintly despite herself.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Her eyes followed Casper walking ahead, a flicker of anger in them — but beneath it, something softer, steady.
“I know he’s not easy,” she went on, voice low. “But I love him as much as he loves me.”
The twins’ chamber was a step above the guest room Alex and Dante had occupied—still not ostentatious, but spacious, with high ceilings, two large beds, a writing desk by the window, and wardrobes carved from dark wood. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, highlighting the neatness of the room, the polished floor reflecting the late afternoon light.
Dante frowned, glancing around. “You two live in the same room? Even though the palace is this big?”
Emily straightened, her tone polite and precise. “Our parents desire us to remain close. It fosters a proper bond between siblings.”
Dante muttered under his breath, amusement curling his lips, “Yes… that seems to have paid off marvelously.”
Alex nodded. “That’s good. Me and Dante, we live in the same room too.”
Emily tilted her head. “Your parents… wish you to bond as well?”
Alex shook his head. “No… I moved here alone. I got separated from my parents.”
Dante’s voice dropped flat, deadpan. “I ran away from mine.”
The air shifted. Emily’s lips trembled slightly, a tear threatening to fall. That these two had risked everything for her, despite lacking the basic comfort of parents, struck her deeply. Casper’s gaze softened as well, flickers of pity and respect flashing in his aristocratic composure.
Emily caught both of their hands gently, one of hers on each. “I… I’m sorry to hear that.”
Casper, ever the curious and practical one, asked, “So… how do you two manage? Rent, meals, and all that?”
Dante, without hesitation, straightened and squared his shoulders, his street-born pride guiding his answer. “Oh, we manage well enough. The landlord is… generous, let’s say.”
Alex gave a slight nod, letting Dante carry the line. It was vague, believable for city boys of their age, and conveniently sidestepped the truth—that the apartment technically belonged to Dominick and they only paid for their meals.
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Dante gave a low whistle. “So... what are we playing?”
“Chess!” Emily beamed. “It’s our favorite! Casper and I have played it a thousand times!”
Alex glanced at the board with polite apology. “Ah... I don’t know how to play.”
“I expected tag or hide-and-seek or something,” Dante muttered.
Casper scoffed without looking up. “You want to play tag in a palace like that? This is not the slums, Dante.”
“Casper!” Emily gasped.
Alex, trying to maintain peace, raised his hands. “Okay, okay—how about you and Casper play and we watch? I’d love to learn.”
To Alex’s mild surprise, Casper’s tone shifted—barely, but noticeably. “It’s a hard game to pick up on the first try.”
“That’s alright,” Alex said gently. “Watching’s good for me.”
A sturdy table in the guest room held a chessboard, the pieces perfectly aligned as if waiting for this exact moment. Casper and Emily approached, their steps deliberate, measured. They took their seats opposite each other, hands meeting in a firm, practiced shake—a silent acknowledgment of the game to come.
For a moment, their usual childhood traits fell away. Emily’s shyness dissolved, replaced by quiet focus; Casper’s arrogance softened, sharpened into calculated poise. White for Emily, Black for Casper, they leaned over the board, eyes tracing each piece, movements slow and deliberate at first.
Then the game began. Each move was precise, confident, like a carefully choreographed dance. Not hurried, not flashy—every touch of the piece carried intention, every glance across the board spoke of strategy and awareness. Even in this calm, measured rhythm, it was clear: they were children of mind and skill, and Alex and Dante were watching something extraordinary unfold.
Their first moves were deliberate, precise—but soon their hands and eyes moved in a rhythm all their own. Not lightning-fast, yet every motion carried intention, and every glance ensured Alex and Dante could follow the flow, catching small cues in the game.
Alex watched in fascination, drawn to the dance of strategy unfolding before him. Dante, blinking rapidly, tried to keep up, the rapid, practiced motions nearly slipping past him entirely.
“Wow! You guys are fast,” Dante said. “I’ve seen old men play—they take ten minutes just to touch a piece.”
Neither twin responded. They were locked in, tunnel-visioned, as if the palace around them no longer existed.
Two pawns remained for each, and the kings. Emily nudged her pawn forward; Casper stepped his king back. She advanced again, he blocked. Step by careful step, pawn met pawn, king met king—neither able to break through.
Within minutes, the match ended.
“Good game,” Emily said, folding her hands. “Casper, that’s the fiftieth draw.”
“I was winning,” he replied, with a pointed look at Dante. “Until someone talked mid-match.”
Dante exhaled. His jaw twitched.
Alex's eyes widened. “Fiftieth draw? And how many times each of you had won?”
Emily smiled. “Casper’s won sixty. I’ve won fifty-eight.”
Alex blinked, impressed. “That’s incredible... you’re so close in skill.”
“Here!” Emily scooted her chair aside eagerly. “I can show you how to play.”
“I think I picked up a few pieces.” Alex kneeled beside her, hesitating with a hand over the board over the pawn. “This one moves two steps at first, then one... this one—” he gestured toward a bishop “—diagonally. And this one—” the rook “—goes in straight lines.”
His fingers hovered above the knight. He tapped it once, softly.
“I didn’t figure this one out. The horses got taken too early. Or this one…” He touched the queen with gentle uncertainty. “But this—” his fingertip brushed the king “—moves one step in any direction, right?”
Emily blinked. “Wow! Alex, you figured that out just by watching?”
“Well, you two were so focused—I figured I should try to learn something too. Also I didn't quite figure out how the game ends.”
“Yeah… I got those down too,” Dante mumbled, arms crossed, “but I got bored halfway through. No offense.”
"They… really are dreamy". Emily’s cheeks warmed. "Brave, honest… and smart too."
"None taken, Dante." Emily giggled, holding up the knight. “This is the knight. It moves in an L-shape—two steps in one direction, then one to the side. And this—” she lifted the queen “is the queen—can go diagonally or in straight lines, as far as she likes.”
“So I called the knight a horse…” Alex laughed softly. “Poor knight.”
Casper’s face brightened for the first time that day. “Then we’ll call it ‘Dante’ from now on.”
Dante grinned, mock-offended. “Finally, you got it, Casper. That I’m a knight.”
Casper smirked. “No. You’re the horse that led the carriage here. Remember?”
Dante threw back his head and laughed. “Good one. Not gonna lie.” He’d caught the teasing in Casper’s voice this time — a far cry from the cold, superior tone of the night before.
And for once, all four children felt it—the rare, unburdened joy of simply being children. Playing. Laughing. Bonding. No politics for the twins. No missions for Dante and Alex. The sun streamed through the windows, catching the chessboard and their bright smiles. They laughed, and for a fleeting moment, wished that this moment could last forever.
Then Casper leaned forward. “Then... shall we play?”
He gestured to Emily’s seat.
“To win, you have to corner the king,” Casper explained, already adjusting the pieces. “So whatever move your opponent makes, the king is trapped and can’t escape. Don’t worry about draws. They don’t happen often... unless both players are really good. And you’re a beginner.”
Emily stood up, making room for Alex who slid into the chair, glancing at the board. Casper extended his hand across the table with a deadpan face. Alex returned the gesture, grasping it firmly, feeling the silent weight of the ritual between them.
Casper opened with the king’s pawn. Alex mirrored him. Then the knight. Then a pawn. A familiar pattern.
"He’s mimicking Emily’s game," Casper thought. "And he’s moving the pieces right. This is very good for a first timer who just watched. He learns fast."
But then the flow shifted. Casper changed his opening, broke the expected rhythm, and launched into swift, razor-sharp play. Alex hesitated before every move. His brow furrowed. A bead of sweat crept down his temple.
"This is different from the earlier game. Guess I have to think on my own now."
He tried a knight. Casper responded with surgical clarity. Then came the queen—gliding across the board.
“That looked... aggressive,” Alex muttered. “What should I do?”
Emily watched in silence, lips parted.
"He played the knight correctly… Still... I think I know where this is going."
Alex pushed a pawn. Casper moved the queen again, then extended his hand.
“Hey,” Dante called, squinting. “What’s with the handshakes? You collecting them or something?”
“Checkmate,” Casper said plainly. “I win.”
Alex's lips parted in realization. Indeed, the king is corned and no matter what he plays, it will be taken out. The boy let out a breath—grinning despite the loss. “That was awesome, Casper.” as he shakes his hand.
“Nothing to be impressed about,” Casper responded. “Next time, if you play this here—” he pointed “—you’ll disrupt my setup.”
“I wasn’t expecting to win anyway,” Alex said, smiling. “It still stings though.”
“You could’ve gone easy on him,” Dante muttered. “Drag it out so he learns more.”
“I treated him as an opponent. I’m not a mentor. You want to try? At least move the pieces right?”
Dante hesitated, then placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Maybe next time. But… we should go.”
The words struck heavier than any chess loss. Reality clawed back—the slums, the streets, Dominick’s apartment, the reports they had to give. Like soldiers, they had no choice. Alex pressed his lips together. He hadn’t played—not once—since the village. Survival had been the only game. Gunshots, street fights, work, stories he wished he’d never learned. And today… today, he had been a child again. A fleeting taste of something lighter, of laughter and simple fun—but not for long.
Dante lingered a moment, hands stuffed in his pockets, glancing back at the twins. His jaw tightened slightly, the unspoken weight of responsibility heavy on him.
Alex rose, brushing off his sleeves.
Emily’s voice wavered, soft. “Can you stay a bit longer?”
Casper, hiding it well, couldn’t tear his eyes away, silently hoping for a “yes.” For the moment, he set aside his suspicion, letting hope win out.
Dante gave a small, reassuring nod. “We will come back, Emily. I promise.”
Alex smiled, despite himself. "We will play more next time."
The twins stood, guiding Alex and Dante toward the guest room door. Their motions were precise, formal, practiced in the manner of young nobles raised to observe protocol even in disappointment. As they walked, Emily cast a sidelong glance at Alex and Dante, her eyes bright with quiet longing. Casper, towering slightly beside her, kept his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders rigid, giving off an air of imposed composure that did little to hide the brief shadow of sadness in his gaze.
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