Chapter Text
At seven years old, Crown Prince Xander knew of death. As the heir apparent to the Nohrian throne, and only son of Queen Katerina, he had been trained from birth to understand death and all of its uses. Even his younger half-sister Camilla, a daughter from some petty concubine that his father showed pity to was brought up in the same way as him.
However, where she was charming beyond her years and excelled at magic even at five years old, seven-year-old Xander had no affinity for it at all - and grappled terribly with the fact. His one shining trait was his resilience thankfully, and even he got to bear witness to one of Royal Mage Iago’s teaching sessions.
It was here that, through a demonstration with flowers and bird remains, Xander saw firsthand the beautiful tragedy that was death. It wasn’t enough for him to learn the theories, to see it in front of him was -
“HEAD MAGE! WE NEED YOU AT ONCE! THE QUEEN IS HAVING TROUBLE WITH THE BIRTH!”
Ah. That.
The young princeling had spent the past nine months working hard rather single-mindedly to achieve his goal, he had forgotten all about what people often considered to be more important than that beautiful tragedy. Life.
His mother, the beautiful Queen Katerina whom his father truly loved more than any other in the world, was having his second child. That was the word spread around Castle Krakenburg, and all who heard it accepted it as fact. As much as Xander held disdain for Camilla, who seemed to inherit their father’s magic skill instead of him, he felt pity for her when he heard the declaration. This child was to be well received, a true princess for the dark kingdom, one born from the well-liked queen, and someone who, in case of extreme tragedy, be allowed to take the throne. This would be a happy day for everyone…
In truth, however, that day tragedy befell the kingdom. The great Queen Katerina had suffered during the birth, and while her child survived - she did not. Where the peasantry, nobility, knights, and mages alike expected to hear the bells tolling all over Nohr for a happy reception of the princess - what fell upon all ears was the haunting toll of death.
Xander could not find the beauty in this.
His beloved mother’s - the favored queen- death at the birth of some insignificant being, one who could hardly stay alive herself. See, the princess whose birth was supposed to be a joyous occasion, was already deathly ill even upon her first breaths into this new life. Xander found himself gritting his teeth as he watched the mages flock around her, watch his father’s face crease with worry. Even if she was his full blood, those breaths -
“- should have been given to mother instead of her!” He cried it out before any rational thought crossed his mind. The mages, maids, guards, Camilla, and even his father paused to look at him. Not once had he acted like this before - even towards Camilla who he was taught to hold at arm's length.
“I HATE HER!” He let the rest of his feelings erupt out of him along with a flood of tears, the young prince sprinting out of the room before anyone could follow him. A small part of him wanted them to, but as Xander neared the training grounds where he struggled against men decades older than him, lungs searing with pain as he exhausted all of his breath - he knew it wasn’t going to happen.
“Prince Xander.” Two older men stood before him, knights who often took pity in his fervent attempts to train despite his age. One looked around his father’s age, with curly black hair streaked with grey, and the other was a shorter man with shoulder-length white hair that was black at the roots. The former was Lord Gunter, a seasoned knight who was so in favor with the king that it was rumored he would receive a great favor soon; and the latter was Shura - a former archer from a ruined ninja nation.
“Why shouldn’t I hate her? She killed my mother, and has the nerve to be sick - demanding my father’s attention!” Xander’s eyes brimmed with tears, his face flushed more that his emotions were getting out of hand. “I don’t want a sister w-who could be dead in days. I want my mom back!” He couldn’t hold back the tears that exploded from his eyes at this point, and the two knights who shared sympathies and empathy alike stood with him, letting their silence be more comforting than any pretty words with hollow feelings.
Five years passed, and though the kingdom was originally happy for the princess’ birth - rumor quickly spread that she was a cursed child with whom associating would only bring death. Even her name christened under the dusk dragon, Alyeta, seemed to be a perfect fit for such a cursed child. Garon had been spending a few moments with her each week, but would hardly mention any of the gloom surrounding her - and had chosen to welcome in a new queen about a year before Alyeta’s fifth birthday.
In that time, Xander’s treatment of her worsened - even with his father’s scolding or the doctors’ advice to not be so rough. Even though her skin was pale, and her body weak - Xander was assured she was faking some part of this. He’d used his position, along with the rumors, to make sure that no maids wanted to care for her, and no children wanted to play with her. Camilla too, and even Leo - the son of a concubine and his father, the same age as Alyeta.
The only one he couldn’t sway, the only one who didn’t listen to the rumors, was the new queen, Arete. She was a confusing woman with her own daughter a year younger than his youngest siblings - and whenever Xander tried to tell her stories of the last queen’s death … she simply smiled and waved the twelve-year-old off. Her daughter too, was elusive at best, and in time she would recieve the same treatment Alyeta did.
The cursed princess didn’t understand the treatment that was happening to her, and why would she? She was a child, not far removed from an infant. The way she chased after her siblings, after Xander, almost made them falter in their judgment; but when Garon met his children for lunch, his eyes softened over her in the way the princeling remembered he looked at his mother. He knew he needed to put her in her place with a strong and firm reminder, but how?
It all came to a head a few weeks later - when Xander,Camilla and Leo were playing in the castle’s gardens. She had run over, long but thin hair the same color as his, eyes the same as his, but forever covered near head to toe for her health. Only her neck, and face above the nose were uncovered - but everything else was dressed in typical nohrian fashion. To Xander, who prided himself in the training he’d been putting his five year long anger into, valued strength above everything. She was weak, and cursed, and had no right playing with them.
He’d only meant to push her down and reprimand her for showing her face, but what had happened was much much worse. He’d miscalculated his strength, and when she fell over - her head had hit the edge of the fountain - not only cracking audibly but triggering a seizure. The fear hit the veins of the three children present immediately, not only for what their father would think - but for the life of this child as well. Leo had been pushed down by accident, and Camilla too - but none of them absolutely broke in this way. Then the seizure, the way her body convulsed in a way Camilla had seen only through an electroshock demonstration.
None of them had moved for seconds when a maid screamed, bringing them back into the moment. Garon and Arete had been heading their way for a date when the scream brought them running to the fountain. Xander had never seen his father so scared before - he was so sure that the world was going to crumble beneath him based on his expression.
“Fath-” Xander opened his mouth first, attempting to speak up when Arete pulled him and the other children back as Garon dove in to cradle his daughter in his arms.
“You can explain later - go get Iago and alert the guards. I’ll take Leo to his mother.” She was so level-headed in this moment, where the anguished wails of his father began to fill Xander's ears. The guilt hit him like a thoron as he and Camilla split up to alert the castle. It was his fault- it was all his fault. His sister was going to die and it was his fault. What did that mean for him? Was he going to be executed? He’d never meant to really hurt her like this - it had only been some childish bullying , he’d only been mad that she looked so much like the queen, he’d only wanted her to become isolated. Oh gods, what had he done?