As this is another tangent to my books, this one requires a bit of background info as well sigh. Here. In this world there are two races: the Dynmeire (essentially, the race of Men), and the Makeire (a race physically similar to Men but not). Mannon, a Makeire, has traditionally hated all Dynmeire, although he made a sort of uneasy peace with them some two years ago. During the course of his second book, he fell in love with Anmordian, a Dynmeire- who fell in love with and married the sorceress Erandale. This scene is about three weeks after the second book's end, when Mannon returned to his brothers. And if you could, I would like suggestions as to what Mannon should do about this mess...

Face buried in his blanket, Mannon sprawled listlessly on his large bed. His red-gold hair veiled the side of his face not already covered by the blanket, shifting slightly each time he exhaled. His breath came so slowly he might have been asleep.
‘Mannon?’
At the sound of his name, Mannon flipped around to face the doorway that had been at his back. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ He settled onto his side with a sigh, curling his left arm beneath his head.
His youngest brother crossed over to the corner of the room where the bed stood and sat at the edge of it. ‘Are you all right?’ Mannon looked a bit more tired than usual, he noticed, as if he hadn’t slept very well.
‘As well as I can be, Hannon.’ He began to pick at the edge of the wool blanket.
‘What is that supposed to mean? Is something the matter?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘You’ve been like this ever since you returned from visiting Anmordian. Are you sure?-’
‘Quite.’ For a short while, only the sound of Mannon’s continual worrying at the blanket could be heard.
Then Hannon tried again. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Sad?’
‘Not really.’ He was too hot-tempered to be sad very often.
‘In love?’
Mannon lifted his head for a moment and his fingers stilled. ‘No.’ The fidgeting resumed. Then stopped again. ‘Yes.’
His brother settled himself more comfortably on the bed, having gotten to the heart of the problem now. ‘With whom?’
‘I don’t want to tell you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just don’t.’
‘I won’t tell anyone.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘Well...’ He hesitated a moment more. ‘It’s Anmordian.’
Hannon’s peal of laughter was exactly what he had feared. ‘You, Mannon Korthera, are in love with Anmordian?’
Mannon’s first pillow flew past its intended target and fell harmlessly onto the floor, but the second one hit Hannon fairly in the side. ‘Yes, I am. Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny.’
‘You, the loather of all Dynmeire, are in love with one?’
‘Shut up.’
‘I can’t believe it of you!’
‘Nor can I.’ He half-raised himself on one arm as Hannon lept up and bounded towards the door.
‘Lannon!’ he shouted into the hallway.
‘Hannon..!’ With a sigh of resigned annonyance, Mannon fell back onto his back and glared murderously at the stone wall to his right.
A sound of feet on the stairway and Lannon arrived. Fair and taller than both his younger and older brothers, almost the height of a Dynmeire, he looked around the room expectantly. ‘What?’
Hannon returned to the bed and patted Mannon’s leg, a broad grin on his yet slightly-boyish features. ‘Our brother here is in love with Anmordian.’
A roar of laughter eerily resemembling Hannon’s exploded from Lannon. ‘Is that true?’
Mannon’s head snapped around to glare at him, nothing even close to amusement in the set of his face or his gaze. ‘It is, and it is no laughing matter.’ His brothers, of course, did not see it so. Lannon set himself at the head of the bed, one foot tucked beneath him, the other resting on the floor. He smiled widely at Mannon, who failed to puncture his amusement with his icy stares. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
Before Mannon could reply, Hannon joined in. ‘Have you kissed him?’
Mannon sat bolt upright, brimming with furious indignation. ‘Of course not!’
‘I don’t believe that.’ Mannon jerked to face him. ‘What was it like? Is he good at that sort of thing?’
‘How should I know?’
‘I must say,’ Hannon commented speculatively, making his brother shift his head once more, ‘that I commend your choice. He’s a fine looking man, Anmordian.’
‘I think he might even beat our Mannon,’ Lannon added sagely.
‘Pity he’s married.’
‘I know; that’s the problem!’ Mannon slammed his fist down on the bed angrily.
‘You could always have him when Erandale is away...’
Mannon could take this sort of baiting no longer. Nearly growling at his brothers with frustration, he rolled to face the wall, breathing heavily with barely restrained fury.
Lannon’s hands slipped onto his shoulders as he leaned in close to Mannon. ‘Have you asked him if he’ll have you, yet?’ he murmured into his brother’s ear.
‘By Oak, SHUT UP!’ Mannon screamed, whirling back towards his brothers. A dead silence descended on the room, broken only by Mannon’s angry gasps of air. The smiles left his brothers’ faces. ‘It isn’t funny.’ Slowly, he drew his nees up to his chest, and was surprised to find himself fighting to hold back sobs. ‘I don’t want to be in love. I don’t want to love him.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Mannon murmured, placing a gentle hand on Mannon’s knee and rubbing it. ‘Does he know you do?’
Mannon drew a shuddering breath. ‘No.’ He let out a frustrated laugh. ‘I should have killed him when I first met him; I wouldn’t have this problem now.’
‘I’m glad I stopped you,’ Hannon retorted. ‘We would still be wandering around in that forest if you had.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’ Lannon asked softly.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’