The Royal Family of Valdnrosa had a tradition of killing those in their family to ascend the throne.

The first of them to die by Casrian’s hand was Cinciara. The second, Elovia, his only full-blooded sister.

And that was as far as he went… at first.

***

Eight Years Ago.

Casrian wandered through the palace, striking down any soldier that came in his path. These were the same soldiers that Cinciara sent out to raze through the palace and kill the rest of their siblings.

Little did they know, she died just moments ago along with Elovia and the King.

Thanks to them, Casrian accomplished the first steps to becoming the new ruler of Andalia.

At the age of sixteen, Casrian became the new King. To become a ruler of Andalia was to carry on the legacy of its founder and first queen, Evangelista. She was the one who bestowed upon her children—and her descendents-to-come—honorific names that would set the Valdnrosas apart from the rest of the aristocracy forever.

But the beginning of his rule was met with opposition. He had no coronation on the prospect that he had yet to remove the rest of his siblings. No, it would be more correct to say that he refused to.

It was him against the world.

And so, he set to work. Learning from the ground up wasn’t easy as he never had proper prior education before this, but he was the previous heir apparent’s younger brother, so it should come as no surprise of what he was capable of.

Nonetheless, no one could have expected his declaration to all the nobles who joined him in an annual banquet one day. Much less, the second oldest out of the siblings, Yurene, to be standing beside him.

“From here on forward, I will no longer be part of the royal family. I will marry my beloved and take on his last name. Thank you for the wonderful life you have given me in this palace.”

Whispers flowed through the audience, and Casrian only made a small grin. He was aware how they considered him to be an unofficial king; the factions that started to form behind the sibling each noble thought to be worthier as their ruler. Yurene, being only a few months younger than him as their mothers had conceived around the same time, had the largest number of supporters.

With the knowledge Elovia gave him before her death, he erased Yurene’s right to the throne without killing her.

Of course, if he looked at himself during this time years later, he would have genuinely wondered why he didn’t simply slew Yurene. But at this age, he still had yet to build many regrets.

“It’s sad to see you go, Calliope. If you or Xandar are ever in need of anything, I’ll always be here for you. Everyone, please give her your regards.” He raised his drink to the air, and the nobles followed suit. Some showed confused expressions, as this was the first time they heard a Valdnrosa address their family by their honorific name. This was likely even their first time hearing of it. However, since Casrian was technically allowed to do that, it was quickly brushed over.

No one noticed the way Yurene turned pale as she met the gazes of everyone who made a toast to her in that banquet.

Just like that, the number of siblings that could have a potential for the throne dwindled. Casrian managed to win over those who had sided with Elovia easily without the measures he took, but the rest only began to support him when they realized he was the only one left in the royal family willing to rule.

It took a full year for a coronation to be held for him after the death of the previous king and his two elder sisters.

Like Yurene, Vernien, Agnes, and Danell ceded their rights to the throne and went their own ways during the beginning of those eight years. Casrian quickly gained his foothold in the country’s legislations and worked tirelessly at cleaning up the mess created after the war.

And occasionally, just occasionally, he would let flames dance across his palms as he sat in his study among piles of paperwork.

It was the same kind of power that made Elovia and Cinciara ultimately meet their demise.

The palace seemed to become emptier with each passing moment. Eventually enough, years passed. For Casrian, it seemed all too soon when the only other person willing to stay and talk with him was a certain child around the age of fifteen.

“Cassie! CASSIE!!!”

The boy paid the guards surrounding Casrian no heed as he sprinted past them in the hallways and grasped onto his arm.

Rhylis, who Elovia took in as her own when his mother died during childbirth.

“There’s some persimmons. I can’t eat them all, so you haaave to help,” Rhylis whined. He repeatedly tugged on his brother’s sleeve.

Casrian sighed. He then lifted his other hand and flicked Rhylis on the forehead. Hard.

“OW!” he yelled exaggeratedly, stepping back and putting his hands on his forehead.

“I’m busy. Just tell the servants to store the persimmons to eat later.” Casrian whipped away from him and continued down the hall. The lack of the sound of footsteps behind him meant that the child didn’t bother to follow after him this time, which made him exhale in relief. It usually took several attempts to separate from him.

Behind Casrian, Rhylis sniffled once and clenched his fists tightly. The middle of his forehead burned from the flick—a testament to Casrian’s strength. He wanted to yell at him that that was the same thing he always said many times before. But Rhylis also didn’t want to admit how he asked the servants to bring his brother’s favorite fruit and how the sight of the terribly dark circles beneath his eyes did not go unnoticed by him.

In the end, Rhylis stomped off and spent the rest of the day sulking.

Later that night, Casrian laid on his back in his bed. It was the dead of night, and although he was thoroughly exhausted, he couldn’t find it in himself to sleep.

‘Has it already been four years?’

The windows were shut tightly in lieu of the freezing winds that came with winter. And winter meant his birthday was near.

The court officials have already been pestering him to marry, but he had all the intentions not to. For obvious reasons.

Lost in his thoughts, Casrian barely noticed when the doors to his bedroom crept open.

“Cassie,” an all-too familiar voice called out to him.

Casrian kept his eyes closed in hopes that he would go away.

“C’mon, wake up! I need help with something.” On the contrary, the voice only became louder. When he still refused to respond, a pair of hands grabbed onto his shoulders and shook him almost violently.

Casrian’s eyes snapped open in annoyance the moment his head knocked against the headboard once. “Jeez, persistent aren’t you?”

A lyre hovered above his face, a pair of large, sky-blue eyes behind it. “I can’t play this song. If I don’t pass my next exam, I’m going to have to go through those grueling lessons again! Again!”

“Why are you playing that old thing? I told her to teach you the pianoforte.” He sat up on his bed and faced Rhylis. Upon seeing his insistent face, Casrian sighed. “Give me that and tell me what song it is.”

Casrian played the lyre with ease. Rhylis would know as he grew up listening to him. It was the easiest instrument to acquire back when the previous king ruled and ignored them, hence his half-brother playing the instrument being one of his earliest memories.

There was no one more adept at any and all kinds of instruments than Casrian. That is what Rhylis firmly believed.

The next time Casrian opened his eyes was when hints of sunlight started to appear behind the curtains. He still held the lyre in his arms, leaning against the headboard. There was also a heavy weight on his shoulder. Locks of red hair could be seen in his peripheral vision. He must have drifted off to sleep at some point during the night and Rhylis hadn’t bothered to wake him again, only joining him.

At his age, Casrian hadn’t experienced the same luxuries. He was thankful for that, though, as he wouldn’t know what he would do if Rhylis was forced to go through the same hell as him when the previous king was still alive.

For the future he strived to build, he mustn't ever look back. If it meant he could experience the peace of a little brother who innocently slept on his shoulder over and over again, he would change the world.

Yet.

After Odetta arrived at the palace as the missing princess, when Casrian was twenty-two and Rhylis around seventeen:

“You’re saying Elovia did all that…” The Sword of Valdnrosa clanged to the ground from Rhylis’ hands. He fell to his knees. “For the throne?”

Around him and Casrian were the bodies of Yurene, Vernien, and Agnes. Danell remained in the shadows off to the side, watching silently. He was the only one who never came back to the palace during those six years, not even attending a single banquet. Not until now.

Casrian looked down at him without answering, expressionless.

“Elovia would never have wanted this,” murmured Rhylis. Tears began to stream down his face.

“...How would you know what Elovia wanted?”