Building The Strongest Family

Liz looked down, twisting a strand of her hair, her voice barely above a whisper.

"But he looked so scared, Artie. Like… like he thought we didn't love him anymore."

Arthur's heart twisted at the sound of that nickname.

It had been years since she'd called him that years filled with loss and longing since their parents passed away.

He got off the bed and knelt in front of her chair, gently placing his hands on her arms. "Hey. Look at me."

She met his gaze.

"I love Billy. Always have, always will," he reassured her. "But he needs to understand that love doesn't mean entitlement; it means sacrifice. Every one of us has given something for this family, even you."

"But I'm just a kid," she protested.

"No, Lizzie," he insisted softly but firmly. "You're not just anything. You gave up your trust fund when we were in trouble.

You learned to build your rig from scratch when you couldn't afford help. You stayed brave when the world told you to break, that makes you more Osborn than most adults I've met."

Liz blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. "I just wanted us all to be together."

Arthur reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek with tenderness in his eyes.

"We will be together again. This... this is just a chapter not the end of the book."

They sat in silence for a moment, the soft hum of her setup casting a warm glow over their faces as they absorbed each other's presence.

Finally, Liz took a deep breath and managed a weak smile. "You know you owe me now, right?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh? And what might that entail?"

"Emotional labor fee! Chapter 7, Section 3 of the Sibling Accord."

He smirked at her seriousness. "And what's the going rate for emotional labor these days?"

With dramatic flair, she rolled her chair toward her rig and declared, "Three matches of League! I get to pick the mode and no backseat gaming unless I ask!"

Arthur groaned playfully but couldn't hide his grin. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Take it or leave it, boomer!" she shot back teasingly.

He burst into laughter as he plopped into the guest chair beside her. "Alright then! Let's boot it up!"

The loading screen blazed to life a riot of colors and sounds bursting with anticipation.

"So," Liz said while selecting her champion, "you're really going with Malzahar again? You absolute war criminal."

Arthur grinned mischievously. "I live to troll."

"Disgusting!" she muttered dramatically before adding with mock seriousness: "I'm reporting you for crimes against fun."

The first match erupted into chaos.

Liz went all in, diving under the tower to execute a flashy combo that ended with both her and her target exploding in a spectacular display.

"Worth it!" she cackled, her laughter echoing through the room.

Arthur shook his head, a bemused smile creeping onto his face. "You play like a YouTuber."

"What's a YouTuber?!" Liz asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Arthur paused for a moment, taken aback by her question as a looknof reminiscence flashed in his eyes.

He chuckled softly and replied, "It's nothing."

Liz rolled her eyes at him dramatically. "That's just because I have style,unlike your budget dark mage cosplay!"

Their laughter filled the air more freely now; the game had transformed into a comfortable battleground where real life could take a backseat for just a little while.

Between rounds, they shared popcorn and flung witty jabs at each other, even coaxing Alfred into chiming in once to settle an intense debate about cooldown stacking.

"And now... the final match," Liz declared grandly, channeling her inner announcer.

"You're narrating your own highlight reel again," Arthur teased.

"Always," she shot back with a grin.

This time, Arthur decided to go off-meta and picked Jhin.

Liz blinked in surprise. "Wait, you're playing ADC?"

"I'm feeling creative," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"More like you're feeling dead," she quipped back.

But as the match unfolded, it was nothing short of poetic.

Arthur's shots landed with precision, cruelly elegant and perfectly timed.

Meanwhile, Liz played Lux and was practically bouncing out of her seat with every binding she managed to hit.

At one point, she let out an ecstatic scream: "Quadra kill! Let's gooooooo!"

As the victory screen lit up before them, Liz raised both fists triumphantly into the air. "We did it, Artie!"

He smiled genuinely at her infectious enthusiasm, feeling warmth spread within him. "We make a good team."

"We always did."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy yet comforting.

Arthur felt a warmth settle in his chest, was it peace? Or perhaps the realization that while chaos raged just outside their doors, within this room lay a sanctuary filled with safety, laughter, and light.

He playfully ruffled her hair, a gesture that spoke volumes. "Thanks, Lizzie."

"For what?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Reminding me what family really feels like."

With a soft smile, she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Anytime, big bro. Anytime."

And for the rest of the night, they sat together, not as patriarch and soldier or head and heiress, but simply as brother and sister.

They were bound by shared memories of goofy moments and an unspoken promise: no matter how fierce the storms outside might be, this bond would remain unbreakable.

---------

The Next Day early in the morning, at the Osborn Family Estate in the garden.

Arthur sat there alone with a thoughtful look on his face as if in deep thoughts.

The garden lay in serene stillness, wrapped in a delicate shroud of morning mist that curled over the neatly trimmed hedges and gently sloping lawns.

Pale beams of sunlight pierced through the overcast sky, transforming dew-kissed roses into shimmering silver treasures.

The air was cool and crisp, infused with the earthy aroma of damp soil and rain-soaked petals, an invigorating reminder of nature's beauty.

Arthur sat quietly by the pond, draped in a thick slate-blue robe with its collar turned up against the early chill.

Below him, beautiful ornamental small fishes glided lazily beneath the surface, their orange and white bodies flickering like living jewels in a glassy world reflecting clouds above.

His bare feet rested on the cold stone edge, a stark contrast to the dampness surrounding him.

According to memory,this pond had always been his father's sanctuary, not for its beauty but for its profound silence.

Sleep had eluded him, the study felt stifling after his conversation with Julian; even the comforting crackle of firewood had morphed into an echo of judgment.

So he wandered, walked past some ancestral portraits that seemed to scrutinize him with eyes filled with painted obligation, through some long corridors, until he finally found solace in this garden.