Chapter Text
“You’re a fraud, Korel! The illegitimate bastard son of an unfaithful Empress!”
What a farce.
Korel- Vas Korellion t’Esmaria, crown prince of the Esmarian Empire- released an uncharacteristic airy sigh as he raised a singular hand and cradled his forehead, pushing against a throbbing vein at the edge of his hairline. How, exactly, had it come to this?
It was that sort of story- the one where you woke up in an unfamiliar body in a largely unfamiliar world. In this case- a video game. The story of a beautiful lady engaged to one but heart belonging to another. An otherwise unoriginal plot made worthy by its characterizations and touching romantic scenes. He hadn’t really had a care for the story but his friend had, subjecting him to endless conversations and dragging him along to events. Thanks to that, even if it was only a passing knowledge, he was adequately familiar with the story and its outcomes.
And out of the several options for the heroine to pick from, he had been slipped into the life of the one who would die in every single outcome- her fiancé, Crown Prince Vas Korellion -blahblahblah.
He couldn’t properly recall if he’d died or simply slipped into a coma. Even now, after living in this body for 15 years, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t merely in a hospital bed back in his own world, hooked up to several silently beeping machines- waiting to awaken. (That’s the typical sort of thing for these sorts of stories, wasn’t it?) Certainly at this moment he wished that were the case. Years of rehabilitation had to be better than enduring this farce of a trial, hosted by his younger brother of 3 years and witnessed by the entirety of the academy that he was still attending at 19 years of age.
Who wrote this, he groused inwardly once more for what was surely a literal millionth time.
After a tenuous deep breath, he finally lowered his hand and settled it as a fist against his hip, glancing up at the dais where his brother- Vas Granderel t’whatthefuckever lingered, one arm looped about the waist of his fiance, Lady Ellianne of House Saphore. (Most notable noble house of the Esmarian empire. Famous for its holy magic bloodline, etc.) Said lady clung to Gran’s arm with an expression of pitiful uncertainty- as though the entire situation were not one of her own making.
He knew it was the plot’s fault, so he could hardly blame her for her naivete, but gods these last 15 years feigning half a wit for her had been a godsdamned trial. Nevermind that he had been a 25 year old man when he’d woken up in the body of a child, thus rendering any and all romantic affection for her upon first sight moot, but her naïve idealism- far better suited to that of a child- had soured his opinion of her even further. If anything, he had strove to be more of a fatherly figure to her than a proper fiancé as he navigated her towards her happy end. Small wonder then that she had all but latched onto Gran, who was not only a match for her age but an actual teenager with a teenager’s youthful notions.
Such as love will conquer all.
He snorted, ungracefully, but audibly all the same, making Gran frown. Korel had been happy to let her go- to have her pick of whosoever caught her eye. To be properly happy with someone that would make her so. That she had picked the worst of the batch for him was a negligible fact since all of them would have made his life hell. No, he was only wondering why he should still have to suffer so when he had done precious little to impede their relationship and, honestly, had even actively created opportunities for them to be alone.
“Have I rendered you speechless, brother?” Gran taunted, voice imperious as whispers broke out in the mindless audience, milling about like cows marinating sod in their mouths. “Should I even still call you as such?”
“I can hardly recall a time when you have.” Korel finally spoke, voice hooking on an uncertain note. Mistaking it for a tremor, Gran’s smile widened in victory and he turned upon the onlookers, raising one arm in a showman’s gesture.
“You must understand my shock, when I learned you had not been sired by our- my father- but were instead the result of an affair of the late Empress. I had wondered why you alone were treated so reservedly by father. Now I know he was being supremely generous, to care for one who was not even of his own flesh and blood.”
Korel laughed. Only a child would say something so cruel. And only a child would find hurt in it.
The laughter halted Gran’s speech, forcing his words to taper off as he looked upon his brother with newfound suspicion. Victory was his and thus Korel should have been unable to do little more than grit his teeth and fume in frustration. So why then did it seem as though Korel were having the time of his life, eyes gleaming with something brightly confident? A confidence that, after he smoothed the grin from his face with his free hand, turned sharp and cold.
“Granderel.”
“... what?”
I forgive you, should have been the words he uttered. As someone near three decades his senior, Korel should have chosen to be a guiding light. To treat venom with kindness. To walk the higher road and choose to be a better person.
But, well…
He was not so gracious an adult.
“Are you prepared to take responsibility for your actions?” He simply asked instead, letting his hand drop to his side, falling beneath the half cape he wore around his shoulders. He had returned from a riding venture with his class, only to be welcomed by this spectacle upon walking into the entrance. Planned and prepared from the very start- the game’s finale. He didn’t mind breaking it a little.
“My actions?” Gran repeated, bewilderment flickering across his face to announce his utter confusion. Korel shook his head, pitying, wondering how someone who belonged to this world could be so utterly oblivious to its workings.
“You don’t realize what you’ve done? You’ve gathered the sons and daughters of noble families for this little public display. You have brought them to your side and in doing so, turned them against me with your declaration of war.” Gran blinked while a handful of youths on the edges stirred. “You’ve seduced a noble lady still yet betrothed and blatantly put hands upon her before a crowd, all but shredding her virtue in the eyes of noble society.” When Ellianne gave a start, opening her mouth, Korel flicked his gaze her way and gave her a soft, condescending little smile. “It will not matter that it was for love, dear Elli. This is a stain you will never be free of.” He informed her, in as lecturous a tone as any of his other guidance over the years, causing her to blink and hunch her shoulders.
“And if my dear brother had but a single thought of propriety in his head, he would have petitioned His Majesty for an annulment of our engagement before putting forth his own proposal, sparing the both of your dignities.” His bemusement was clear as Gran blustered, opening his mouth to proclaim something foolish most likely, but Korel cut him off. “But stealing my fiancé and then rallying the noble houses against the crown prince… why, this is practically akin to a coup. ”
It was like slicing a knife through the strings of a puppet. Immediately those gathered went ashen as that word hung in the air like a sword lingering above their necks.
Coup. Treason.
Gran blinked, undaunted like the arrogant, spoiled prince he had been raised to be. “How could it be a coup when you are nothing more than an illegitimate child? Once father realizes he was deceived, the title of crown prince-”
“Should His Majesty choose to denounce me, I will gracefully step aside and allow you your glory.” Korel dismissed Gran’s concern with an airy wave, feeling utterly unbothered as Gran frowned. “But until that moment, I am still heir apparent. ” His voice carried with it a tone of finality, silencing Gran and causing a nervous shift in their audience. “And for you to create such a blatant spectacle of disrespect… tell me, little Gran, what is it you think the crown is?” When Gran’s frown deepened in puzzlement, only then did Korel allow a little mercy to seep into his expression. Stepping forward to close the distance, he noted the way Ellianne blinked in surprise while Gran tensed as though expecting a blow.
None came, of course, for he was not in the habit of hitting children, but he did feel youthful enough to permit a bit of cruelty. So when he leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching, his smile was delightfully malevolent.
“Do you think it a reward? A gleaming prize to be snatched from your unworthy brother? That you’re the righteous hero and me the scheming villain, to be struck down in the course of your tale?” He exhaled, gently, his words a breath ghosting over Gran’s lips. “But you haven’t realized its weight. That, in doing this, you have opened the grounds for a civil war amongst resulting noble factions. That even as an illegitimate bastard, there will be those who would still happily see me upon the throne, even if the price were to be paid in blood.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle, before he truly dug his claws in.
“Are you prepared for that, Gran? Asking someone to die for you?” The word jolted through his brother like a shock. “Have you even thought about what it means to lead? The measure of sacrifice that becomes a necessity? The sullen resentment of those who will never forgive you for ripping their families apart in the aftermath? Choices where there is no answer that does not result in someone’s anguish? Or do you simply think nobody will die in your reign? By your command?” Ellianne, close enough to overhear, stared at him with widened eyes as though he had become an unfamiliar creature. As though the man she had known all her life had suddenly become a snake in human skin.
“Will you be able to choose who to save when it becomes apparent you cannot save them all? Do you even know,” his smile widened faintly, “how many of our people are dying right now because of His Majesty’s mistakes?”
Gran blinked, inhaling a small breath.
But of course he did not know. He, and all of those children here, were as frogs in the well. Small, infantile things who thought they knew the world when their world was within these walls. To him, the troubles beyond the Academy and the Palace might as well not exist at all. Leaning in, close enough that his lips near caressed Gran’s cheek, Korel spoke a final time. “The crown is a shackle, Granderel. A burden and a noose wrapped in gilt and jewels, and I have spent my entire life learning to carry its weight. Are you prepared to do the same?”
And when he finally withdrew, he smiled a soft little smile that could only be considered angelic as he saw the mute, dumbfounded consideration on Gran’s face. As though Korel’s words had been entirely foreign to his mind. Petty, perhaps, but the satisfaction was well-deserved in his opinion, having had to endure a near 15 years of his childish cruelty.
Appeased, he turned upon Ellianne who drew back in fright, only to blink when he took the hand not attached to his brother and brushed his lips against the back of it. “I look forward to your wedding, Lady Ellianne.”
And he left the hall, after flourishing towards his brother a bow worthy of a humble subject to that of their gracious monarch.
Game over.