An omake of an odd format I enjoy using, especially when there are so many linebreaks to look between.
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"There were severe complications during the birth, sir. The doctors are still trying, but..."
"...I see. Should my wife not survive, transfer all her documents regarding the situation in Vale to me."
"...Sir? Do you... not...?"
"To be a king, Nicholas, is to be beyond the emotions of those under your rule. I must be beyond those emotions, for I am the foundation of Mantle. If I succumb to despair, what hope does the kingdom have? So I must not grieve, Nicholas, lest I consign all my subjects to the abyss with my folly."
The death, cremation, and internment were performed in a whirlwind. The people had time enough to understand that their Queen had passed, flags were dipped across the nation, and then the Government cracked down to prevent national mourning. Right to Assembly was suspended for three weeks following the Queen's death to prevent large groups from experiencing sorrow and grief all at once. They knew that Mantle's leadership wouldn't prevent individual mourning in their homes but could not risk the country falling into despair and then ruin due to a single death.
The King's private chambers echoed with his cries and rage, the Mausoleum of the Mantle was closed to even its caretakers for nearly a year after the Queen's internment. But the sound-proofing that the King's chambers had were second to none, and no one dared go near the Mausoleum lest they face the wrath of the King himself.
His baby girl, his precious little Wrachiod, was what bouyed him in those times. She screamed and laughed, giggled and frowned, cried and smiled, and his love for her was second only to his duty to the world.
He held her every day, her crib was beside his bed and he was the one who fed her and changed her. His advisors learned quickly to keep their voices even and calm when speaking with him, for the Princess only left the King's side during official meetings or when the King held court.
Her first word was "papapapapapapa," and the King smiled and pat her head, while inside his heart crowed with joy and regret that her mother could not see this beautiful daughter. Yet the King continued to pet her head and smile at the look of pure joy on the small girl's face.
Soon afterwards the time came that the King could not delay any longer. He knew he must distance himself from her, that Wrachiod must learn what it meant to be alone before she could learn how to safely grow close to others.
So he moved her to a full-sized bed in the room across the Hall, an indulgence he knew but he was made weak by his love for her, and her crib was put into storage. She would scream and cry into the night, would be checked on by loyal servants to ensure she was safe, and then be allowed to grow exhausted before falling into slumber.
The King could not hear her, but his heart grew heavier with every passing day that he kept himself from his daughter's side.
The young girl stared, mesmerized, at the glowing trails of sparkles left in the air beneath the flickering crystal. She scampered forward, tugging at the cloak of the towering man ahead of her.
As he turned downward, stepping away from the conversation he had been involved with, she screwed her face up in concentration, trying to enunciate each word precisely. "What is that? Is it magic?"
The man frowned upwards at the flickering light, and the sparkles surrounding it. "No. It's not Magic. I'll have your tutors tell you about Dust during your next lesson." His business concluded, the king turned back to the impatient ambassador.
When he felt his daughter's constant presence grow close followed by a tugging at his cloak he prepared himself as best he could, steeling his countenance and holding a hand up to the Ambassador from Mistral who huffed at being ignored for the attentions of a child.
The wonder in her eyes, '
So like her mother's...', and the question about Magic were things he was familiar with. Everyone who became a true Dust Caster had eyes and questions so similar to those but none were
his Daughter. He wanted to tell her how it was Dust, the lifeblood of the defense of Remnant, the greatest resource on the planet, and the thing which could make gods of children. He wanted to tell her that Magic was the tool of the Maidens and that no one but they or the legendary Silver-Eyed Warriors truly had any real grasp on what Magic was.
But his words died in his throat, he was a King and the people of Mantle and the safety of Remnant were (
had to be) his chief concerns. The Ambassador was discussing a growing problem amongst the populace of Mistral regarding the constant sanctions against Free Speech, the constant crackdowns over various artist's chosen expressions, and the growing Anti-Royalist sentiment in general. Chairwoman Silica Fall was someone that didn't bother easily and if she was becoming worried then it was something to become paranoid about.
His eyes called over a servant to take the Princess away, and as the servant drew close he told her that someone else would teach her what Dust was.
The look of Awe at what he had done with the Dust darkened for a moment before perking back into excitement about a new kind of lesson.
The King felt like a piece of his Soul had turned to stone.
The tutor paced up and down the room, apparently unable to settle down even in front of the king himself. "It's astonishing! To manage to activate a Dust Crystal at that age - she's not even four yet! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes-!"
The figure behind the desk straightened a few papers. "What," he began, "would be necessary to begin a proper education in Dust Casting?"
The tutor gripped the edges of his coat nervously. "Well, once her Aura is unlocked, it would just be a matter of repetitive training. Given how quickly she picks up other things, she'd likely do quite well! But that's... years, from now."
The man behind the desk stood up, facing the window at the rear of the room. "I am not a specialist on the soul. But my understanding is that someone with the strength of soul to spark a Dust Crystal, and the control to trigger it... is ready to have their Aura unlocked?"
The tutor took a few steps back. "That... is the general rule of thumb, yes, but you must understand, at that age...! This is unprecedented! If there are any side-effects, they'd be completely unknown!"
The king closed his eyes. "I'm granting you full access to the Royal Achives. Determine what the potential dangers could be."
"Y-yessir!"
His daughter could be the best, and even if from a distance he would watch over her and ensure that she would never find an avenue closed to her if he held the keys to open it. The potential she showed was something that needed to be ever tested and pushed to its limits.
The King waited until the man, Gilliard he believed, had left the room before sighing. Opening his eyes he looked out upon his country and its people.
They had to come first, if they didn't there wouldn't be anything left for his Daughter to rule. Wouldn't be a world left for her to live in.
If he failed then everything he had done, was doing, and would do to her would be wasted and he didn't know if he could live with himself if that were to pass.
"Silence! What's this furor about?"
The severe looking woman looked down her nose at the frazzled tutor. "The 'furor', your majesty, is about Mister Gillard making a mockery of my institution's policies!"
The tutor stared down at the ground, unable to meet the eyes of his lord. "I apologize, your majesty. I failed to keep sufficient watch on Wrachïod, and last Autumn, she filed a paper with the Academy of Sciences under a false name. To do so, she falsified numerous documents, including several official stamps of approval."
The king closed his eyes. "I will ensure that she is reprimanded for abusing the law in such a manner." He paused. "That said... was there any fault in the actual content of the paper?"
The woman shook her head. "No, but I can only assume that the student she copied it from will be-"
"She didn't copy it." The interruption from the tutor, so uncharacteristic for him, startled the woman. "I may not have seen her write it, but I know her character, and I know her worth, and I am staking my reputation and my career that Wrachïod Krom could write a paper on a level that the Academy would accept!"
The woman's jaw dropped. "With all due respect, your majesty, your daughter is twelve. You cannot possibly believe...?"
"If, as Mr. Gillard believes is the case, she wrote it herself, then she can do it again. Have her write a second paper, under the supervision of the Academy. If she cannot perform this task, then a more severe punishment will be meted out."
He wanted to rub the little gremlin's face into how much smarter his daughter was at the age of
twelve than the rest of her colleagues at the Academy. He wanted to denounce and berate the woman for daring to slander his daughter's genius, but he couldn't.
There were rules for a reason, and everyone must follow them or the world would fall to the Grimm. The watchwords of the Royal Family were
Ex Ordine, Pax. From Order, Peace. If he let his feelings rule him, if he allowed himself to even look at how the scale would fall should he put the World against his Daughter, then he would have already lost.
So he would punish his daughter for doing too well, he would try to teach her that if you are going to break the rules to do it so that no one knows you broke them so that they don't think they can as well, but most importantly he would teach her that no one was above the rules.
"Father, I have a question for you."
The king gazed intently at his heir, before finally saying a word. "Speak."
"Where is the Jewel of Winter? I wish to study it."
The older man closed his eyes for a moment, his face revealing no further emotion. "That is a state secret, and you must not allow this information to spread - as such, I am not authorizing you to move it from its current location, though you may do whatever studies you wish on-site."
The princess nodded. "I understand, Father."
The king took a deep breath. "Em-Iâ is inlaid in the Crown of the Queen of Mantle, and is kept along with your mother's ashes in her mausoleum. Do as you will with it, but do not remove it from there." And with that, he turned his attention away from his daughter, and onto the documents upon his desk.
"Father."
Never '
papa', not for many long years. He felt that he was handling it well, he hardly ever flinched at how she enunciated the word "
Father." these days.
He would have one of the Queen's former attendants, perhaps Abigail she had been the Queen's favorite, take her to the Mausoleum under the pretense of telling her about her mother. He hoped that his little witch would allow her to speak about the Queen, tell her stories about who she had been, what she was like, how her smile had managed to make Vacuo back down from closing its borders, or how she had spoken so softly to the Princess while she had been pregnant.
He knew that he could not be the one to bring her to the Queen's resting place, he had not gone there personally since the day he had ordered it sealed at the Princess's first Birthday. The King knew that he would have a break down and that would risk destroying he image he had built of himself for his little witch. It might undo all the long years of solitude he had enforced, all those precious moments he had let pass him by might be called into question, and he might never be able to put himself back together again.
He was strong though, his heart was wrought iron now after being King for so many years.
His daughter would be even better than he was, and he could content himself with that every day he saw her eschewing a day of relaxation for study and work.
He had to.
"They're growing far too bold. That was the second attempt in as many weeks."
"They see her as a weak spot - they believe that killing her will serve as a rallying cry for their cause."
"...She's expressed an interest in seeing the ruins of western Saunus in person, has she not?"
"She has, sir."
"Very well. Nicholas, you will accompany her on her journey."
"...Sir?"
"Fret not, Nicholas. I'm certain your protégés will make for fine bodyguards in your stead."
He would tear their hearts from their still breathing chests and force them to remain alive to watch him eat it using lightning Dust.
He would send her away but guarded by his greatest Knight and best friend. The Anti-Royalists had grown bold long ago and had already killed several of the Nobles of Vacuo and Mistral. Silica Fall had even lost her son-in-law to one such attack and he didn't think he'd seen the woman look more her age than that day.
He wouldn't lose his daughter,
couldn't lose his daughter. Not to something he could prevent, not to something he could beat.
There was a fire in his heart that hadn't burned since the day his daughter was born, and looking out from his office window he knew exactly what to stoke it with.
The swordsman begrudgingly shared the news with the young woman. "...It happened earlier today. Professor Gillard was amongst those killed in the terror attack against the Royal Academy."
The young woman quietly absorbed the news. "I see. I shall have to ensure that Jean's teachings will not go to waste, then. To allow despair to fester would only hinder me."
Nicholas quietly shook his head. "...You really are your father's daughter."
Her heart ached and throbbed but that was not new and she would ignore it.
She was used to it and some days she even forgot that it hurt at all.
The Vacuan soldiers surrounded them on all sides, in numbers stretching out of sight. One of them, high in rank, called out. "As the Kingdom of Vacuo is at war with Mantle, you must surrender immediately, or be seen as hostile combatants!"
The young woman reached for her Dust Crystals, but Nicholas pushed her arm down. He spoke in a low tone, inaudible to the soldiers in the distance. "...They're not Huntsman trained. Keep your face covered, and don't stay in one settlement any longer than you have to. Don't go back to Mantle until the fighting is over. Do you understand? Now run."
By the time Nicholas finally died, he'd taken over four hundred soldiers with him.
Her heart pounded in her chest, her ribs and lungs hurt, and her eyes watered from the air as she sprinted away. She could see the display behind her when she chanced a look back, it looked like the horizon was made of falling stars as Nicholas called on his Semblance to cut swathes through the Vacuan soldiers trying to get past him.
There was never even a doubt that he wouldn't succeed to giving her the chance to escape. She also knew he wasn't going to survive the fight.
Her heart throbbed in her chest and eyes burned from exertion as she used Air-Dust to pick up her pace.
The crown, made of Star Platinum, looked exactly the same as it had the last time the woman had seen it. Not a single scratch, or mark, or dent, marred its sweeping curves. Not a single indication of the passage of time, or that the Kingdom it served was no more. A single object, caught in an instant that stretched to eternity. The Princess picked up the crown, and became a Queen.
Nicholas was the first name of the bodyguard of the King of Mantle.
