[ There's no derision, somehow. Maybe you expected it, maybe you didn't -- but there's a clear absence of it as Charles doubles down on his creed. The king can't even look at him, only lowering his gaze. His back has, and seemingly will to the end, be turned to Charles, where he cannot see the King of Riven's face.
'So in the end... you still will not join me.'
There is no disappointment, no relief. Only a distance that feels insurmountable now, a wide chasm. When did the cracks first appear? When did it grow?
Was there ever a point where you could've stopped it, where you could've reconciled?
'I expected as much of you.'
'One day, you will understand.'
The entire castle shakes, a strong tremour under your feet as the ground abruptly splits, dividing Charles from the King. He seems to proceed onward, flicking the blood off his blade as the scenery shifts and changes, as he walks straight back into his war. His bloody campaign tearing apart the land and the people until one day, ultimately --
A crown is a sign of power, but poor protection. It's only so long until the king himself is slain, far away where Charles can't reach him. ]
[the sad reality, charles knows, is that perhaps they could've reconciled. if he'd tried hard enough, if he'd stood his ground; but when his father told him to leave, he did. it's something he both regrets and yet knows also saved his life. and so, staying would've only doomed them both.
such is the unfortunate nature of politics, and what placed the crown on his head years too early. all he can do is live with the guilt of not being able to protect his family.
still, he won't follow his father into despair and death. (even if he might understand, he will not choose the same path.) with that in mind, he turns and leaves.]
[ So you leave your home behind, or what used to be of it. Even if you did return, it will never be the same.
You lead a new one now, with new allies. They live, and they die, but at least together you stand, and you have the comfort of knowing that this is your choice.
Is it warmer, this life as Charles?
You leave through the castle gates, feeling a gust of cold wind meet you— ]
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no subject
'So in the end... you still will not join me.'
There is no disappointment, no relief. Only a distance that feels insurmountable now, a wide chasm. When did the cracks first appear? When did it grow?
Was there ever a point where you could've stopped it, where you could've reconciled?
'I expected as much of you.'
'One day, you will understand.'
The entire castle shakes, a strong tremour under your feet as the ground abruptly splits, dividing Charles from the King. He seems to proceed onward, flicking the blood off his blade as the scenery shifts and changes, as he walks straight back into his war. His bloody campaign tearing apart the land and the people until one day, ultimately --
A crown is a sign of power, but poor protection. It's only so long until the king himself is slain, far away where Charles can't reach him. ]
no subject
such is the unfortunate nature of politics, and what placed the crown on his head years too early. all he can do is live with the guilt of not being able to protect his family.
still, he won't follow his father into despair and death. (even if he might understand, he will not choose the same path.) with that in mind, he turns and leaves.]
no subject
You lead a new one now, with new allies. They live, and they die, but at least together you stand, and you have the comfort of knowing that this is your choice.
Is it warmer, this life as Charles?
You leave through the castle gates, feeling a gust of cold wind meet you— ]