Chapter Text
The grand council chamber of Vektia is a masterpiece of architecture, built to command respect and silence. Marble pillars looms high, their surfaces carved with the royal family crest – a silver rose interviewed with a dagger. Tall, stained glass windows cast fractured light onto the long dark oak table where the most powerful figures in the kingdom are gathered.
At the head of table sits Evan Rosier, King of Vektia.
He looks every bit the ruler his court expects him to be. His posture is perfectly composed, his expression carefully neutral. He listens with a kind of detached patience to the noble and royal advisors’ words……a ruler weighting his advisors’ words as if they are chess pieces, waiting for his move. From the outside, King Evan is a ruler who commands respect with quiet authority, a strategist who keeps his emotions locked behind steel walls.
But beneath the surface, he is exhausted.
This meeting, like many before it, is a tedious reminder of what it means to rule.
Today’s discussion is focused on expanding trade routes and making deals with those who right now control the new routes, arrange new border patrols after the recent expansion of the eastern side of the kingdom and settling minor disputes between noble houses.
The most exciting thing were a few nobles bringing up concerns about a few pirate attacks on merchants ships, but overall nothing urgent enough to require Evan’s full attention.
So he listens carefully, offering precise and calculated, if short, responses, his voice steady and his manner composed.
The arguments swirl like a storm over Evan’s head, but he doesn’t let it show. He nods, ask precise questions and make it seem as if he was simply weighting all the possibilities.
Pandora is there too, seated to his right. This is one of the very few things Evan expects her to be present………She interrupts the council’s usual monotony with sarcasm and pointed remarks, often earning disapproving glances from the more traditional nobles, but she brushes it away everytime.
Because unlike Evan, she doesn’t have to bother with political pleasantries, not that her brother would let her – so where he has to play the long game, she speaks her mind.
A noble sighs, and addressing Evan directly. “Your Majesty, would you care to rein in your sister?”
Evan simply lifts a single brow and leans back into his sea. “I find that to be an impossible task. And frankly, I’d rather not waste my time”
At that a few of the younger, and more open minded, advisors have to stifle their chuckles, while a few of the older ones merely purse their lips. And Pandora smirks.
The meeting carries on until finally, after nearly four hours, it concludes and the nobles and advisors make their way out of the room.
The doors shut behind the last noble, leaving Pandora and Evan alone in the now-empty council chamber.
The moment they are alone, Evan exhales and runs a hand through his hair. His carefully crafted mask drops slightly, thought not completely—as he still carries the weight of his role.
Pandora flops into one of the chairs, stretching her arms dramatically. “I thought I was going to die in there” she groans.
Evan smirks faintly. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
And Pandora eyes him, “So noble. Are you feeling particularly kingly today?”
He shakes his head, an exasperated but fond gesture. “I feel like I need a drink.”
Evan knows that with Pandora he can be himself without ever being judged for not acting up to his role. With her, he can let his more sarcastic and wry personality come out a bit more……he can let himself open a bit.
The two talk about Felix,, their younger brother, for a bit…they talk about how his classes are going and even debating whether to organise a trip in town with him.
After a while Evan stands and Pandora studies him for a moment, voice softer now. “You know, Felix is getting worried, too”
Evan pauses mid-step, just for a fraction of a second.
Felix. The reason he can’t afford to break down. The only family, aside from Pandora, that he can still protect.
“……I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Evan finally says, carefully tucking away the emotions creeping in.
Pandora doesn’t push it, instead she says. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know.”
He only scoffs, adjusting his cuffs……and with that, he pulls his mask back into place and exits the room.
The halls of the palace are silent at this late hours. The flickering torches casting long shadows against the stone walls and contrasting with the silver glow of the moon coming from the windows.
A lone figure moves through them, unseen. Barty Crouch Jr. is a ghost in the dark, blending effortlessly with his surroundings.
His movements are measured, practiced—this isn’t his first kill, and it won’t be his last.
Barty knows his target. King Evan of Vektia .
His “contractor” had paid handsomely for this kill. He hadn’t recognised the name, and he hadn’t asked questions. He doesn’t care about politics. He cares about precision, getting in and out, no traces left behind………and especially here where there is a very high chance of meeting a certain someone from his past.
But he shakes the thought away and the closer he gets to the King’s chambers, the slower his heartbeat becomes.
Killing a royal requires more than just skill—it requires control .
He is three turns from the King’s private chambers when he spots two guards. With swift, silent precision, he takes them both down before they can react.
He moves to the heavy doors of Evan’s chambers, pressing an ear to the wood. Inside, there is no sound. No movement.
Perfect . The King must still be around. That means that Barty can get acquainted with his surroundings before the kill.
As Evan made his way towards his chambers for the night something started to nag at the back of his mind. Like a warning……and in fact he doesn’t seem to remember seeing the usual guards standing post in the Family Wing of the Palace but he dismissed it as he reached his chambers.
The halls were to quiet. Something was wrong.