[ Wow! Claude came here to relax, but the minute him and Rupert are in proximity to each other, they're thrown into a memory.
You wake up, and it's to a hand around your neck and the ominous glint of a blade in the moonlight.
It's the first time you've woken up like this. You're maybe five, or six years old, and you're filled with fear first, and panic second.
But you still know better than to scream. You worry that the guards stationed outside your door would only come in and help the assailant finish the job.
So instead you slap the arm that's keeping you pinned to your bed, and it doesn't do much, except that the knife misses wherever it was meant to cut, slashing deep and bloody over your chest instead, pain slicing through your veins as your legs kick out, earning a grunt of pain when they connect with—something soft and human.
The situation starts to take shape in your head, and something else seeps in around the fear: fury. Indignation. Rage that anyone would do this to you- you're a prince.
You kick again before your attacker manages to shield himself, into that same spot, another more pronounced cry of pain. But you're maybe half your attacker's weight, and it's not enough to dislodge him, so the next time his blade flashes, it lodges into your shoulder, and it burns so much that you lose track of everything else. How hard your fists are beating into the arm around your neck. How furiously your legs are kicking at the shape above you until eventually it staggers back.
Like many times before this, you wonder why. Do you deserve to die?
But unlike the times before this, you've gotten more resourceful. The pain pounding in your head goes still, remembering the dagger under your pillow. You reach for it, clumsy, and your attacker has clearly underestimated you because you're able to draw it and bury it deep into—something. Something that drops hot blood over your chin and neck.
The assassin reels back in surprise, and you're screaming, launching forward and you know that you hurt him again, somewhere, some amount of times because there's blood spraying over your floors different from the droplets dripping from your own clothes. But you're only a child, and when the fog clears from your head you realize that the would-be assassin is gone.
It's just you, covered in blood and left without a scratch.
The memory fades, leaving Claude has disoriented as ever. ]
he's freezing as soon as the fear and rage take hold, and it takes a few long moments even after the memory is over to move past those feelings. the first question he asks is incredulous, horrified, as he looks towards claude.]
Why would... You were so young, why did someone try to kill you?
[ Claude doesn't look particularly sad himself, mostly regretful that Rupert had to see a memory like that. ]
Politics tends to be ugly like that. Especially when succession is in the picture. [ He tilts his head. ] Did you experience any strife in your family over who would inherit the kingship?
No, I had several siblings... All eager to sit on the throne one day. They were all pretty terrible, but it's really on my dad for not managing his kids.
[whatever he was about to say, it's lost as another memory begins.
this memory begins in a forest; it's dark, even though you're in a clearing, so it's probably sometime either late at night or very, very early in the morning. there's a boy standing before you - well, not quite standing. the two of you are fighting, after all, and not a spar or a practice battle. you know that the stakes for this fight are life or death - only one of you can leave this forest. but as the battle (11:48 to 14:11) with two very enthusiastic observers continues, it becomes clear just how much neither of you want to be involved in this conflict. you can barely even hear the two giving their commentary in the background, and you don't spare them a passing glance - even after your sword is knocked out of your hands and you drop to your knees, you're entirely focused on the person in front of you, and the way the feelings you've been holding back for days come pouring out.
Ugh. There was some stupid power struggle that turned into a war, and since they couldn't do anything to solve it themselves, they were trying to force us to end it.
[oh, also.]
What I mean? Oh! Oh, right. When I say rooted I mean, like, literally rooted, they both got turned into trees.
Well, no, I think the intent of that spell was probably to turn them into trees permanently? Like, tree people. People trees. They could still talk and stuff, you heard them, they just couldn't move at all. But the forest they were in was cursed and the curse ended up getting broken, so when the rest of the forest disappeared, they did too.
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week 3, tuesday, spa
It's the first time you've woken up like this. You're maybe five, or six years old, and you're filled with fear first, and panic second.
But you still know better than to scream. You worry that the guards stationed outside your door would only come in and help the assailant finish the job.
So instead you slap the arm that's keeping you pinned to your bed, and it doesn't do much, except that the knife misses wherever it was meant to cut, slashing deep and bloody over your chest instead, pain slicing through your veins as your legs kick out, earning a grunt of pain when they connect with—something soft and human.
The situation starts to take shape in your head, and something else seeps in around the fear: fury. Indignation. Rage that anyone would do this to you- you're a prince.
You kick again before your attacker manages to shield himself, into that same spot, another more pronounced cry of pain. But you're maybe half your attacker's weight, and it's not enough to dislodge him, so the next time his blade flashes, it lodges into your shoulder, and it burns so much that you lose track of everything else. How hard your fists are beating into the arm around your neck. How furiously your legs are kicking at the shape above you until eventually it staggers back.
Like many times before this, you wonder why. Do you deserve to die?
But unlike the times before this, you've gotten more resourceful. The pain pounding in your head goes still, remembering the dagger under your pillow. You reach for it, clumsy, and your attacker has clearly underestimated you because you're able to draw it and bury it deep into—something. Something that drops hot blood over your chin and neck.
The assassin reels back in surprise, and you're screaming, launching forward and you know that you hurt him again, somewhere, some amount of times because there's blood spraying over your floors different from the droplets dripping from your own clothes. But you're only a child, and when the fog clears from your head you realize that the would-be assassin is gone.
It's just you, covered in blood and left without a scratch.
The memory fades, leaving Claude has disoriented as ever. ]
... I really was hoping to relax.
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he's freezing as soon as the fear and rage take hold, and it takes a few long moments even after the memory is over to move past those feelings. the first question he asks is incredulous, horrified, as he looks towards claude.]
Why would... You were so young, why did someone try to kill you?
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Politics tends to be ugly like that. Especially when succession is in the picture. [ He tilts his head. ] Did you experience any strife in your family over who would inherit the kingship?
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Not really... I'm an only child, and I don't have any cousins or anything. [...] I'm guessing it wasn't like that for you? I'm really sorry, Claude.
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No, I had several siblings... All eager to sit on the throne one day. They were all pretty terrible, but it's really on my dad for not managing his kids.
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[he pauses, a sympathetic frown on his face.]
I'm so sorry, Claude... That must have been awful.
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[ he doesn't really sound like he believes it ]
Otherwise I'd just be a stuck up noble looking down on commoners.
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...I don't think the two options here are being stuck up or almost getting murdered. There should definitely be an in between.
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But really, it was a long time ago. I haven't actually seen my family in over seven years now.
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[whatever he was about to say, it's lost as another memory begins.
this memory begins in a forest; it's dark, even though you're in a clearing, so it's probably sometime either late at night or very, very early in the morning. there's a boy standing before you - well, not quite standing. the two of you are fighting, after all, and not a spar or a practice battle. you know that the stakes for this fight are life or death - only one of you can leave this forest. but as the battle (11:48 to 14:11) with two very enthusiastic observers continues, it becomes clear just how much neither of you want to be involved in this conflict. you can barely even hear the two giving their commentary in the background, and you don't spare them a passing glance - even after your sword is knocked out of your hands and you drop to your knees, you're entirely focused on the person in front of you, and the way the feelings you've been holding back for days come pouring out.
meanwhile, he just kind of freezes.]
Uh, that was—
[personal!!]
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His eyebrows shoot up. ]
... You two seem like a really cute couple.
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[don't just say that!!]
I just wasn't expecting, uh - that one to, um, come up.
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[ all memories are fair game rupert ]
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[rupert]
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Does it dredge up something unpleasant?
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[a vague handwave]
It was - sort of a private conversation! That's all.
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[ ... ]
Yeah, that's pretty private... It seems like your fathers were watching, though?
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[he was focused enough on the fight during the memory itself that he never turned to look at them, didn't glance at either of their faces.]
I mean, not that they could have left or anything, they were pretty firmly rooted there.
[what.]
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What do you mean...? Why were they trying to get you to kill each other in the first place?
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[oh, also.]
What I mean? Oh! Oh, right. When I say rooted I mean, like, literally rooted, they both got turned into trees.
[
okay]
1/2
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[...]
Well, no, I think the intent of that spell was probably to turn them into trees permanently? Like, tree people. People trees. They could still talk and stuff, you heard them, they just couldn't move at all. But the forest they were in was cursed and the curse ended up getting broken, so when the rest of the forest disappeared, they did too.
[i'm personally sorry to claude]
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[ HELLO... HE THOUGHT RUPERT LIVED A HAPPY NORMAL LIFE ]
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[......]
Wait, I didn't explain the whole prophecy part to you yet, did I. Maybe I should start over...
[why does it keep getting worse]
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