Verita - The Guardian of Darkness

33 - The Disowned Son

"Did you inherit her powers?"

"I'm not sure? Not like her, anyways." He hesitated and a slight smirk crept up on his face. "You should've seen her when she was younger. Sometimes she would tell you these random bits of information; how the weather would be on this day next year or when a certain duke would loose the pitiful remainder of his hair. It was borderline ridiculous."

For some reason, she could imagine his family well. A strait-laced Gratian royal as his father and a beautiful mother, who was as surprising as she was wise.

He must have gotten his looks from her side, thought Elanthin. What a pity he didn't inherit her personality.

"I also had an older brother once."

This time, Elanthin detected it: a break in his voice, so tiny that she'd nearly missed it.

"What happened?"

"He caught a fever which wasn't relenting, so his body succumbed to it over time. Some say it was caused by poison – and I'd have to agree with them." Aetrian cleared his throat, while Elanthin was left to wonder if he'd cared for her this much in sickbed because of his brother's story. "But back then, I wasn't living in the palace so I can't say for sure."

"Were you carrying out orders somewhere?"

"No. My father had kicked me out, so I was staying at the mage tower. To be more precise, he'd disowned me to keep me out of politics", explained Aetrian in a matter-of-fact-tone which couldn't fool her. She knew he was covering up emotions by the way in which his tone of voice had become even lighter. "That time, he was angry about my intention to find supporters for establishing contact with the Plains ... but I suppose he didn't like my ideas very much in general."

"How ironic that you've ended up on his throne."

The corners of Aetrian's mouth twitched. "And I've managed to welcome the head of house Verita in our palace. He must be kicking and screaming wherever he's now."

In her head, Elanthin corrected her earlier assumptions about Gratia's current king. Maybe his position hadn't come to him as easily as she'd previously assumed.

"Did you ever consider fighting for the crown, while your brother was still alive?"

"Never", shot Aetrian back without hesitation.

Elanthin wasn't in the clear about Gratia's rules and regulations in regard to a younger sibling inheriting titles – but if they were even remotely similar to the Veritan customs, Aetrian would've only needed to prove that his competence in battle and problem-solving was greater than his brother's.

"Was there no chance you could've won over the nobles?"

"I never expected or wished to inherit the throne ... Oh, don't make a point of misunderstanding me, I don't just sit on it because I have nothing better to do", he added amused, when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"So why didn't you stay with the mages? What brought you back?"

"I had a thousand ideas I wanted to implement, so I couldn't pass up on the chance. But before, when my brother was alive ..."

He trailed off, while looking down on his hands. There was nothing special about them but Aetrian seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

"I was happy to leave the responsibility of ruling to him", he continued after a while. "You see, I was always afraid that wearing a crown would turn me into one of those marble statues in the palace halls; that the throne would render me immovable like it did with my father and my brother. When you let the fear of failing prevent you from making decisions, you've become little more than those marble busts. Very pretty to look at – but also utterly useless."

Even though the comparison ended on a light note, Elanthin felt the weight he was placing on his shoulders through his words. Aetrian was battling against the desire to rest easy on a pre-made bed instead of fighting for improvements despite their danger to the current order – and there was no one who understood that better than her.

When he met her light blue eyes, Aetrian suddenly looked contemplative. "Maybe that's why I was so impressed with you from the start. I'd never met anyone who struck me as utterly fearless in the face of demise."

"I'm far from fearless." Elanthin sneered about his naivety. It was a simple coincidence that death didn't frighten most Veritans as much as your average Gratian. Change, however, was a different topic. "Just because I act like I am it doesn't mean–"

"That's even braver in my eyes, so you don't need to try so hard to refute me," cut Aetrian in swiftly, as if he'd expected her answer. He smiled a little. "You won't manage to un-impress me either way."

"And you won't manage to sway me with pretty words", replied Elanthin quickly. "Is the constant smooth-talking the reason your mother got fed up with the capital and its nobles?"

"Good guess but no. I think she never got over my brother's fate in these halls."

"But if she could see the future, why –" Elanthin's mouth had been quicker than her brain and she interrupted herself mid-sentence. She definitely shouldn't ask someone why their clairvoyant mother hadn't prevented her son's untimely death.

Aetrian smile wavered as if he could guess the reason for her troubled expression.

"It's not a power you should rely on blindly", he said softly.

It was obvious that he wasn't willing to elaborate and Elanthin respected the line he drew. An open book like Aetrian must have a reason to stay silent about something. However, there were topics they needed to discuss direly.

"I have one question left", she stated brusquely. "And it's not an easy one."

"I hadn't assumed you to be in the habit of asking easy questions."

"I'm glad you've braced yourself, then." 

Her answer had been a little snarky, but she felt no irritation at his comment. He was right. She wasn't used to hold her tongue to flatter or ease. On the Plains, it was more important to hear and speak the truth; at least if you wanted to keep an upper hand. She cleared her throat and pulled back her shoulders in an instinctive attempt to seem taller. 

"I've told you my doubts about this plan but you haven't voiced any complaints about the situation yourself. Why are you alright with marrying me? I must be far from your idea of a perfect bride, all covered in scars instead of gemstones."

Aetrian's eyes gleamed bright orange as he chuckled. He didn't seem displeased with her curiosity.

"Is there another reason, apart from the obvious lack of gemstones, for me to refuse marriage with you?", he said eventually, drawling out the words as if he was savouring them. "Perhaps you should ask me a different question: Why am I willing?"