———

  Karolus

  When I was little, even littler than I am now, my sister used to read me stories every night. It was always my favorite part of the day, listening to her and snuggling by her side. I remember how warm it felt. Like… being swaddled in a soft blanket, or maybe basking under a bright sunny day, not that I ever really had the chance.

  Gisela and I were forbidden from leaving the castle. I never knew why exactly, but sometimes I’d hear strange things out in the halls. I’d hear people screaming, the clash of metal, something slashing and a crunch, then it’d all be over and Uncle Ganelon would come back to our room looking a bit tired. He’d always ask us if we were alright, if any odd people entered our rooms, and then he’d leave just as quickly with an angry look on his face.

  Now that I’m older, I think the reason we were trapped here was because the people outside wanted to kill us. Maybe my sister knew that. Whenever those scary moments came, Gisela would take my hand and hide me in the cupboard, where she’d assure me all night long that everything was okay — that I had nothing to fear.

  I never liked being separated from her. We’d been pretty much attached to the hip ever since I was born, and whenever we were pulled apart this tight feeling would seize my chest, and I’d start having trouble breathing, and my head would get dizzy and start to throb. It was terrifying, and painful, but the worst part of it was the loneliness.

  I hated being alone, because without any people around me I was left to think about how scared I was. I didn’t feel safe. I was small, and timid, and far more frail than what a paladin should look like; and in that castle where a monster lived and roamed as he pleased, I was always running away, trying to stay out of his sight.

  Uncle Ganelon never let us forget his most important lesson. “Stay away from your father,” he’d say. “If you hear his footsteps, then hide in the darkest corner you can find. If you feel his sickening presence approaching, then flee as far as your feet can take you. Never talk to him. Never, ever, dare question or bother him. Karolus, Gisela, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

  In my memories, Uncle Ganelon was always apologizing to us. He was sorry that we didn’t have a mother, he was sorry that we couldn’t have a father, and he was sorry that we would never live as normal children. And I remember feeling confused about his words, because wasn’t this normal?

  Always feeling afraid, always flinching and clinging to my sister’s side — it was all I ever knew. I didn’t question it, maybe because I was too young to understand how unnatural our life was, and it wasn’t as if it was always bad.

  Gisela eventually discovered the one place our father would never come near, and that was the royal library. It became our special hiding spot just for the two of us. And there we would play all day, running around the tall shelves as the smell of musty books and scrolls surrounded us. My sister must've read me every book that was there. She was always great with words and reading, but sometimes when I saw her there, so engrossed in a story, I’d feel an ache in my chest, because she’d have the same look as me — a sad, longing look.

  I think those books were all she had before I was born. Uncle Ganelon always tried to teach us whenever he could, but admittedly he wasn’t very good at it, so my sister had to learn a lot by herself. She could pick out a specific author from anywhere in the library within seconds! Whenever I wanted to know more about the outside, she’d dash off and then come back with a giant, heavy pile that’d crush her with one clumsy misstep.

  She was especially excited when talking about history, or nature, or the rules of the world we lived in that she called science. Why were there clouds in the sky? If we threw an object up, why would it come back down? She loved to research all she could about how things worked, and if given the chance I think she would’ve become a scholar. It suited her.

  For me though, I didn’t really get it all that much, but I listened nonetheless because I loved listening to her talk. I loved seeing her so passionate and loving about something, because I never had any interests I could call my own. I just wanted to stay as a child and be with her.

  But eventually, there was this yearning I felt that I couldn’t explain. It came whenever she spoke about fairytales, legends, and epics of heroes who once lived in the past. She spoke about the adventures they had when I was tucked snugly in bed, and I would fall asleep wondering when I could have an adventure of my own.

  I dreamed about venturing past the empire’s borders, exploring the wider world and all that it had to offer. Some days I’d be sailing along the coastside where the waters twinkled like jewels under the midday sun. Sometimes I’d be hiking in forests filled with beasts, as well as beautiful plants and flowers I had only ever seen illustrated in pages. One time, I even imagined, silly as it was, that I had boarded a ship headed toward the heavens; and there I’d see the bright starry lights for myself up close, to reach out and embrace the vastness of the cosmos with all my love.

  But then, I’d wake up, and I was reminded that those possibilities were something I could never have. I returned back to my life always spent cowering, terrified, and then I’d rush into my sister’s room and cry in her arms. She never turned me away despite how annoying it must’ve been. She simply held me close and gave me a hug, patting my back until I eventually calmed down.

  It’s a bit weird to say, but those moments were when I was happiest, because it truly felt that we’d always have each other. I didn’t need to be scared of being alone. No matter the years that passed, she would always be there, and I would always be there for her. As long as we were together, there was hope that tomorrow might be a little better.

  One night, my sister looked a bit different than usual. It was just before my fifth birthday and I had snuck into her room. I remember how she stared at the wall, how her eyes looked so conflicted. I asked her what was wrong, but she merely gave me a pained smile and told me to go back to sleep. “I love you, Karolus. Forever and ever,” she said. “I’ll love you always, no matter what. Don’t forget that.”

  I didn’t really understand why she said that back then, only that it looked like she was waiting for something. Something bad. I heard her breath tremble and saw how she tried to stay strong. A feeling of dread crept into me, and I tried to ask her what was wrong, for never before had I seen her so vulnerable.

  Why was there such a deep shadow over her, as if waiting to swallow her whole?

  Before I could even ask, Uncle Ganleon had burst into our room, his face red and anxious. “We’re leaving, kids,” he said, swiftly picking my sister and I up. “We’re getting out of this damnable castle.”

  We barely had time to react before we found ourselves rushing through the halls. Gisela was flustered, but nonetheless she grabbed my uncle’s shoulder and told him to stop. I don’t remember clearly what it was they talked about, only that there were tears in her eyes and how she begged, pleaded, for him to give up on her. She told him that this would never work and he’d only be dooming himself. Ganelon didn’t care. He swore that he’d get us out here, that together we could start a new life far away from this place, far away from our father and this empire until we’d find a new home only for us.

  I was still confused, but also excited about finally seeing the world outside this grand castle. I thought to myself that maybe my dreams weren’t impossible after all, and I could see the ocean that sparkled like crystal, and climb the trees of the jungles and Moorish forests, and march across the sandy desert of Arabia. The possibilities were endless. For the first time, I harbored a hope and wish that I could finally be freed from my father’s grasp.

  But in the end, we were caught by that very same monster who we were told to avoid. There stood my father, the emperor of Francia, and it was then I understood just why Uncle Ganelon was so afraid.

  He was more terrifying than anything I had ever seen before. His hollow face, his sadistic smile, the filth that wrapped around him always — it was unbearable. I could hardly breathe before him, most of all my sister who had been frightened to silence. The two of us felt so helpless. We couldn’t even resist or run away, for the blood in our veins screamed that he was our father, that our fates were inevitably connected to him.

  I wanted to puke. But after a moment, I realized it wasn’t me he was looking at. It was Gisela. He looked at her with those evil, hideous eyes, and then I understood just why she was so nervous before.

  My heart burned like never before. It screamed, roared, shrieked for me to do something, anything, because if not then I’d lose the one person who made living in this scary cage just a bit more tolerable. And if she died, then my worst fears would come true.

  I would be alone, all alone.

  When I realized that, something in my chest began to swell. It was a strange feeling, yet also comforting. I wanted to release it and to let it go, and I did exactly that. I held my hand and covered my heart; I closed my eyes and gently drifted to sleep, as the warmth swelled to an inferno and came rushing out.

  I don’t remember what happened next. There was a bright light, a loud rumble, and then… nothing. When I woke up, my sister was still by my side, as well as Uncle Ganelon, and I smiled despite how blurry the world seemed at first.

  As that blur disappeared though, many more people came into my sight. I saw priests and paladins and castle officials all together, and they looked at me with a strange expression I didn’t quite understand at the time. Something was different. Why was everyone looking at me like that?

  But what broke my heart most was how sad my sister looked. Gisela held my hand and patted my head like she always did, but now there was a distance between us that couldn’t be crossed. “Karolus, I love you,” she said. “So please be strong. Be strong baby brother, so that no one can hurt you ever again.”

  After that, I was taken away to a new place. My bedroom was gone. Everything I had was replaced, the pillows and blankets, the toys and books my sister and I had collected. Instead there were jewels and golden ornaments everywhere I looked, and the people inside the castle praised me as the empire’s heir, the one who would take up my father’s mantle. I was no longer Karolus to them. Wherever I went, their lips spilled a new identity, Charlemagne. Charlemagne, they sang. Charlemagne, they worshipped. I tried to hold onto Karolus, for it was all that I had left of my mother who I’d never know, but even that name began to fade as my every waking moment was drowned in their expectations of Charlemagne.

  It all happened so fast, so quickly that I could barely comprehend my new life. People I had never seen were coming in and out of my room. They gave me lessons about all kinds of things, made me learn about the proper ways of rulership and how to conduct myself. But through it all I remember only wanting to see my sister and Uncle Ganelon again.

  Over time I met them less and less, and the day was replaced with a routine I couldn’t escape or refuse. People would come and go faster than I could recognize. A history teacher would be replaced by someone new the next day, and that person would be replaced the next week, and so on and so on until I could no longer remember the names of everyone I met.

  It was such a stark change, and weirdly even more scary than when I lived as Karolus. It felt wrong. This wasn’t me, or who I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be Charlemagne, and yet the emperor-to-be, the one everyone saw me as, was gradually replacing the memories I spent with my sister.

  I kicked and flailed, desperately clawing to hold onto myself. Everything was uncomfortable. I once thought the worst thing in the world was being alone, but now I wanted nothing else but to run away from everyone, from those voices calling and begging for Charlemagne.

  So one day, I did exactly that. I ran away from my lessons. I escaped my room and fled back to the halls where I once lived, and there I found my sister’s room again. I didn’t hesitate. I rushed inside with tears in my eyes, and I smiled, for right before me was Gisela’s surprised face.

  “Karolus, what are you doing here?” she said, and the anxiety in my heart all flew away, for it was only with her that I could be Karolus again. I wasn’t the emperor’s heir, I wasn’t the holy child who everyone was told to revere. I was just a child longing for his sister’s hug.

  I stayed there all through the night, snuggled by her side just as we had done before. Gisela didn’t ask why I had suddenly visited her. Instead, she smiled and read me stories. She spoke about those radiant heroes of years past, of adventurers and great warriors that traveled all through the continent. Next to her, I could forget about Charlemagne and dream again, no matter how impossible it seemed.

  Over the next year, my visits became more frequent, and I annoyed the castle staff to no end with my sudden escapes. I feel a bit bad now thinking back, because it wasn’t as if they were doing anything wrong. Teaching me, watching me, fussing over my every move… that was their job, as assigned by the emperor. And there wasn’t anyone who knew how scary he was, or the consequences of disobeying him, more than me.

  It also gave me an excuse to see Uncle Ganelon again, because he was the only one who could find me, and also the only one who dared to come near my sister’s room. Everyone else thought of her as an abandoned child and stayed away, not that they had done anything to help before. Even to me, they ignored us. Without the Mother’s inherited blessing, we were no better than illegitimate children just as Ganelon was. We didn’t have the strength to stop our father if he ever decided to start anew, to have another child.

  But with my existence came new safety. I felt it in the light that spread across my body, the power and knowledge passed down from the previous rulers. All I had to do was pick up a sword for it to feel like a part of my body.

  Ganelon never liked it when I did, though. I took up swordsmanship lessons from Peers like Sir Roland. He praised me as a prodigy and said that I would one day become just as strong as the emperor, but that wasn’t enough. I needed to be stronger. I had to be stronger, so that if he ever tried to harm me or my sister again, I would be able to stop him and put an end to this nightmare we’ve suffered for so long.

  Yes, that’s why I picked up the blade, but… I didn’t like it. I hated carrying a sword or any other weapon. It felt filthy, like I was growing closer to my father who used these blades to terrorize countless others.

  Sometimes, very rarely, he’d come to see me. After my awakening a year back, new monsters called demons began plaguing the continent, and so Pepin would leave for months to go fight them. He enjoyed it, even more than slaughtering his own people. When he came back, though, he’d grab me by my neck and toss me into the underground training yard. “Mine son, do not disappoint me,” he’d say, throwing a weapon to my side. “For you are destined to become another me. You will inherit my will, my lust, mine empire of slaves, and you will prosper our holy lineage. You will sire even more children just like me, and so I shall live for all of eternity.”

  He forced me to fight, even when my body was bruised and my blood pooled all across the floor. But I did not die. God’s blessing wouldn’t allow me to, and so no matter how he lashed at me, tore my flesh, crushed my head into the dirt, I would rise back up unable to stop. I couldn’t even cry, for that would only make my father angrier. I had to be the image of the emperor he sought.

  I had to become like him.

  When his training sessions would end, he left once more to fight the demons, and I was left there in the dark and cold. No one was there to comfort me, no one except my sister. And so I would drag myself back to her room and sob all that my frail heart could manage.

  I sobbed in her arms and cried about how terrible everything was, but a part of me despised myself for pushing my problems onto her, for whenever I came she’d always look so sad. She loved me, and that’s why it also hurt her when I was hurt.

  I used her to make myself feel better, even when I knew it’d pain her in return. I hated myself so much. She shouldn’t have to be sad just because of me, but in the end I couldn’t bring myself to stop, for her hugs were all I had when everyone else seemed so distant and curt. I was like a parasite latching on to her kindness, too cowardly and selfish to ever stop.

  I thought the only way to make Gisela happy was to stop seeing her, so one day I gathered the courage to visit and say goodbye. I’d tell her she could leave the castle just like we’d always wished, and then she could start somewhere else, somewhere free from our father’s influence. I wanted her to live a normal life even if I couldn’t. Uncle Ganelon was still worried about other people harming her though if they ever found out about her identity, but my sister was never afraid about things like that. If she could live freely, able to research and read and study all she wished in the libraries outside, then wouldn’t the risk be worth it? I told myself that, and approached her room the day before her twelfth birthday.

  When I did, I felt something familiar. Sick. It was my father’s twisted presence, and for a moment I thought about running away. I was too scared to face him again, when the memories of the whip he struck against me were still so vivid. But then I realized just where exactly he was.

  He was inside my sister’s room, his daughter who he had neglected ever since my awakening two years ago.

  I knew what was about to happen. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, the despair and terror that surged so violently within.

  I thought we were safe. He should’ve already lost interest in her, so why? Why was he here now?

  I bit my lip until it drew blood, tearing myself apart in my head. Should I go inside? Can I stop him? Everything was oddly quiet, and I couldn’t hear his nor Gisela’s voice. I deluded myself into thinking that maybe everything was fine. My sister was strong, so much stronger than me in heart. Maybe, just maybe, she was still safe.

  But I was wrong, and so I saw, with my very eyes, as the door opened and my father stepped out with my sister’s severed head.

  I couldn’t speak. Even when he turned around and gazed at me with that terrible, terrible smile and leaned in right next to my ear, I couldn’t utter a single word.

  “Finally, mine son,” he said. “Your weakness is purged. Now, forget about the wench. She held you back like the miserable, useless fool she was. Too unappealing to even serve as Ganelon’s whore. Forget about her, for you are destined to become another me.”

  I should’ve been enraged. I should’ve attacked him right then and there, even if it cost me my life. If not that, then I should’ve at least taken back her head.

  But I did nothing in the end, nothing. My entire world seemed to dull, and I found myself curling up, wishing to disappear and to forget about it all.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t even have the energy to sob.

  My father left, and I collapsed on the floor for who knew how long. Eventually, the servants came to clean up the room, and I was taken back to my cage of jewels and glittering gold. Sometimes the teachers would come by, and sometimes the priests, but no matter their worlds I remained despondent. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to think.

  I wanted to close my eyes and fall asleep forever, forever in my dreams.

  But I couldn’t do that, because then that would mean leaving my sister behind. In the years that soon followed everyone quickly forgot all about Gisela. They left the hallways where her room once was abandoned. Everyone, even Uncle Ganelon… they treated her as if she never existed. And that’s why I despised them.

  She didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t deserve having a brother like me, who was too afraid, too powerless, to protect her when she needed me most. So the least I could do was keep her memory alive. I visited her room every week despite how Ganelon or the others tried to stop me, and I’d clean it the best I could, keeping it just like how it was before.

  If only I could freeze it in time permanently, back to those days when I wanted nothing else but to listen to her stories.

  Eventually, my father died. And the monster that ruined our lives was no longer there to stop me.

  I was… free. But I wasn’t happy about it, because what was the point when I was the only one who could enjoy it?

  After all this time, I still remained, unable to hear your voice. And every day I was reminded that you were no longer here. I could never see you again, never feel your warmth, never cling to your side and feel your embrace.

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  The outside was right there, ready for me to step out and greet it at any time. But in the end I chose to lock myself up. When Uncle Ganelon came to me and asked to seal my power in the holy sword, I agreed, hoping that it would never again see the light of day.

  And when Uncle Ganelon confined me to my room and forbade me from ever showing myself to anyone else, from ever venturing beyond these dusty and forgotten halls, I listened even still.

  I slept all day while he handled the castle and the nation in my stead. I slumbered, rotting in the dreams I would never experience, because it was the only way I could see my sister again, even if she was only a memory.

  This was what I deserved. It’s because of this blood inside me, this terrible, vile, lineage that’s only brought others pain that I had to remain forever sleeping. I didn’t want to face the world or my people, though sometimes… I remember how I used to feel. I’d think back to the stories Gisela would tell me, and I’d dream about venturing off to those distant lands.

  I wouldn’t have to worry about disappointing or hurting anyone. I could live just as I wanted, free to explore all that I wanted.

  But I kept that feeling buried deep. It was too selfish, too hopeful for someone like me. I deserved to rot, and to eventually fade away forever, for all that my father had done and for all that I couldn’t do to stop him. I accepted that. I forced myself to.

  But then… I met a certain gentleman. It was, um, a surprise to be sure. I was heading to clean my sister’s room as usual, when I spotted someone on the ceiling! It was bizarre, but it also made me curious. I’d heard about the arrival of the otherworlders and, though I knew it was wrong, I wanted to know more about them. They came from a place even farther beyond the continent I knew. They came from beyond the starry heavens. What was it like over there? Were they like us, or were they happier?

  I could’ve ignored Lucius and pretended that he wasn’t there, but this feeling in my heart refused to let go. And so I stopped and talked to him. I grew closer to him, and he told me stories about such wondrous things. He told me about the history of his world, about strange carriages that could move on their own, buildings that’d rise all the way up to the clouds, and he’d sing all about such curious things like mummies and wendigos and that time he beat up a dragon from a place called China. He told me all about his world without wanting anything else, and as I listened more I started to feel the same way as I did before Gisela.

  The two of them were so similar, despite being worlds apart. Lucius was a lot older than me, and yet his love for storytelling was the exact same as my sisters; he had the same care and consideration, always keeping his promise to return.

  Maybe it was inevitable that I started to change after that. I wasn’t satisfied with staying here anymore. I wanted to have an adventure of my own, to march off and see the swaying fields of gold, and to swim the brooks of flowing water, just as I had heard about in my books.

  But whenever I started to feel that way, I’d think about my sister. And I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to abandon her here. If I left just like I wished, then eventually I’d forget about her smile and the hope she gave me when everything was so painful. I couldn’t bear to betray her like that, when I lived while she couldn’t.

  So I closed off my heart, and I resolved myself to become the emperor. I would rule from this castle where her ghost remained forever bound, and I’d become a man different from our father. I’d make the people happy, give them the lord they needed. I would inherit the throne and the crown as Charlemagne.

  At least… that’s what I wanted.

  But when I went with Lucius to tour the city, I saw in the ripples my reflection. The person mirrored back was someone I didn’t recognize. He was different, colder. The rain drenched my body and I could feel something tight worm its way into my heart.

  Was I really doing the right thing?

  I heard my father’s voice from beyond the grave. I remembered the words he cursed me with, that reality I tried to avoid. “You are weak, boy,” he said. “In time you will understand that my way is right. The people will fear you. You will be forever miserable, mingling amongst those who shall never forget, forever envy, your divine right.”

  I didn’t want to believe him. Even now, I’m trying to refuse his legacy, but I’m also afraid. I don’t know what I’ll become, if I stay as Charlemagne.

  I’m terrified that, one day, I'll hurt everyone around me just like him. That eventually the curse of this throne, this blessing, the blood that runs through my veins will overpower me entirely. And I will succumb with no way to stop it, reborn fully as Charlemagne.

  I don’t want to acknowledge it. Yet, when I sat there during Ganelon’s trial, I felt a part of myself crumbling away to make room for the emperor I thought the people wanted me to be.

  I feel myself slipping, running away. And eventually Charlemagne will catch and devour me. When that time comes, will I be any different from my father?

  I don’t want this. I don’t… I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I became just like the man who killed my sister. Maybe that’s why I ran away, my boots and hair all soaked. I feel bad for leaving Lucius behind, but I just had to be alone for a bit. I needed something to remind me of Karolus.

  It’s, um, embarrassing to think about in hindsight. Now, I’m wandering the castle while dripping in leftover rain. Thankfully Lucius taught me a bit on how to better avoid people so I managed to sneak inside without being seen. They’d probably be really disappointed seeing their emperor look so miserable.

  I don’t really have a specific place I’m trying to go to. Really, everything’s been a blur. What I’m doing is no better than having a tantrum. I thought I’d stop being so weak when I inherited the crown, but… I guess some things never change. It’s kind of sad. The parts of me I actually want to be different are still stuck, still the same pathetic me.

  Maybe that’s why I already know where I’d end up. It’s fate, or maybe a joke. But when I look up, I realize that I’m right in front of Gisela’s room. I ran back here, just like I did years ago.

  But nonetheless I open the door and head inside. It’s the same as ever, and I make my way to the bed before collapsing on it and letting my body sink into the cushion.

  Being a child is terrible, because you have no power of your own. You’re helpless as people around you decide what you’ll be, where you can go, the person you’ll inevitably become. I hated being a child, so I wanted to grow up as quickly as I could along with my sister, and together we’d see all this world had to offer by ourselves.

  In the end, I remain alone. And even being so close to adulthood I’m not sure if anything will get better. I can’t leave on an adventure like my storybook heroes because I have a responsibility to my citizens, to serve as their emperor and give them comfort after so long of being terrorized by my father and then the demons. But I’m also afraid of being Charlemagne because the crown might one day consume me, and I’d repeat this cruel cycle just like those of before.

  I’m trapped. I don’t know where else to go, what to do. I’m just… so tired.

  Maybe it’s better if I close my eyes, quiet my breath, and then fall asleep. I’ll dream like I always have, only this time I won’t need to wake up.

  My life, this crown, the empire… maybe it’s for the better if I disappear and end this long curse for good. And then when I return to the Mother’s embrace, I’ll see my sister again. And she’ll hug me and sing to me just like in our childhood.

  I’m sorry, Gisela. I tried to be an emperor you could be proud of. But now, I just want to forget it all.

  I don’t want to be alone anymore.

  “Whatever do you mean, my young friend? I’m right here.”

  I snap my head up from my pillow. There, waiting patiently in the corner, is the Lucius I’ve come to know so dearly, except for one thing. Instead of his soft face, I see a white mask, so odd and different in a way that I don’t know how to explain. There’s a flower covering one of his eyes, and the other is strangely peaceful, serene, like it’s the all-seeing eye of God. It doesn’t feel like him, and yet I know it is.

  “Lucius?” I say, scrambling back up and trying to look less shameful. “Sorry, did I say something? I didn’t know anyone else was there.”

  “No need to be concerned, for not a word left your lips.”

  “Okay…?” I’m not sure how he knew what I was thinking about then, but what I’m more curious about is why he’s here. “Sorry for leaving you there so suddenly. I just needed, um, some time to think.”

  Lucius stares silently for a moment. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but the moment I try to speak out again, he claps his hands and brings out a large couch before elegantly making himself comfortable on the seat.

  “Yes, indeed. The mind often tends to wander when left in isolation, yet it is peculiar you should say so, Karolus, when it has brought you only pain. Do you not dislike it, being alone?”

  “I do. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

  “And yet, you also yearn for it. Why is that so?”

  I don’t really know how to respond. Lucius is right; I hate being alone. With all my heart, I hate that I can’t be friends with anyone else, or be with them without any pressure or worry, because there’ll always be this wall between us that I can’t ever cross. The only people I was able to do so with were my sister, my flesh and blood, and Lucius who’s from another world; but even he’ll leave me eventually, and I’ll go back to living in a world where everyone sees me as above them.

  It’s stifling, their love, because I know it’s not for me. They want the emperor; they want Charlemagne who’ll lead them as a kind, capable, and benevolent ruler. They don’t care about Karolus, and maybe that’s why being around them makes me feel even more lonely.

  I’m lonely around people, and I’m lonely by myself. Yet it’s when I’m by myself that I don’t have to care anymore. I can hide away and shun myself from the world, my responsibilities, even if it means being left to these hateful thoughts I sometimes have.

  It’s overwhelming, how terribly indecisive I am. If only I could be satisfied with just one struggle.

  “Well, that’s simply what it means to be a person, young Karolus,” Lucius suddenly says. “We are complex beings, never quite bound to the whims of a specific ordeal. Oftentimes the stress of mingling amongst the masses becomes too tiresome to bear, and at others we desire the companionship that comes with a warm and tender voice. Just because the two are different doesn’t mean they can’t come all the same. What matters is understanding what it is you desire, the truth begging to be heard deep within.”

  “The truth?”

  I’ve never thought about it that way.

  “Yes, the root of all your misfortune. Pain doesn’t come without reason. If you never acknowledge what makes you ache so, then it shall never disappear, forever haunting you from a place beyond your reach.”

  “But, um, how do I find it?”

  Lucius shakes his head and then gestures to me with a solemn wave. “That, my friend, only you are capable of answering.”

  I’m not sure where to even begin. This pain’s been with me ever since I can remember, back to before even Gisela’s death. She’d always say I was a clingy brother. Even when I was a baby, apparently I’d cry whenever I left her arms. It must’ve been really annoying, but she held me close anyways, singing a song or a lullaby filled with tender care.

  I latched on to her kindness, her smile that never seemed to fade. After her death I was suddenly forced to confront a world without her and to find my own reason for living.

  What was that reason? Why did I still want to grow up, even though every moment was so scary and confusing?

  It was because I had no other choice. After all, my life wasn’t my own. I had a whole empire of people waiting for the day I’d usurp my father.

  Before I knew it, their dreams and hopes became mine. When I saw how hurt they were, and the destruction left by my father, I thought it was my duty, my obligation, to make up for all he had done. I had to become the emperor that Pepin never was. Maybe that way, my sister would be proud of me, and I’d have something that I could truly care for and be passionate about.

  But lordship was harder than I thought, and most of all I just couldn’t stand the guilt I felt for not being better. I worried whether I could live up to their expectations, since these people didn’t deserve another lousy, incompetent ruler. I had to excel. I had to become a figure they could truly rely on.

  So what was I to do when it turned out that… I wasn’t a good person at all? That, despite so desperately wishing to be saved, I was only ever thinking about leaving them. I wanted to leave this city, this empire, this entire land behind and focus solely on myself. I wanted to frolic in the fields, the lakes, the forests and deserts and meadows. I wanted to abandon everything I was and to have an adventure just like my beloved heroes, and when I realized I felt this way it made me absolutely sick to my stomach.

  How could I be so selfish? How could I dare run away from my father’s sins? His blood runs through me, a reality I can never deny. I am bound to him just as he is to me. He is a curse on Francia and I am the only one who can relieve it. I must take it upon myself, torture myself with his wickedness, so that I may never forget my purpose and my destiny.

  Surely, if I work hard enough, then eventually the people will look at me differently, right? Maybe if I were more kind, more humble, then they wouldn’t prop me up so fervently on the throne. Their love is so, so immense. I can see just how much I mean to them; no, what my crown means to them. The people want to worship Charlemagne. I have to make it up to them, and I have to try my best to repay their affection no matter how bottomless it seems. And once it’s all done, I can look at them the same way that I did toward Gisela, and I’ll be happy. I’ll be friends with everyone in the empire.

  “Do you really think it’ll be that simple?” Lucius asks.

  I close my mouth shut, desperately trying to hold back a sob.

  “Karolus, do you think it is only love and adoration they gaze upon you with?”

  I have to believe, don’t I?

  “That is not believing, but rather delusion. You’re straying further from what you truly want.”

  Then what exactly is it, Lucius? Because I don’t know. I don’t know and I’m so exhausted because of it.

  I’m not that naive. I realized it a long time ago. I realized it when the servants would enter my room trembling as if I were my father, or when my teachers refused to give me their name, to let me meet anyone they called family out of fear of what I’d do to them.

  I tried my best. I... really, I did. I tried to open my heart and show everyone that I wasn’t like him, that I was me and no one else, but it didn’t matter. I screamed, and I begged, and I pleaded for anyone to look at Karolus, only for the name my father gave, Charlemagne, and all he represented to be the one they saw.

  But so what? It’s not their fault they feel that way. It’s mine. It’s my father and this revolting blood in my veins, this so-called precious gift of gold that I never once wanted. I just wanted to be normal.

  Yet whenever I try, I see him out of the corner of my eye. I see him even now. I see his face reflected in mine, the twisted pleasures and evil he had succumbed to which will one day devour me, and I want to scratch it all away. I want to take a blade and slice this flesh born of him off, to burn all my blood and hurt myself in the cruelest, most painful ways imaginable because that’s what I deserve for being his child.

  But I’m a coward. I’m afraid of dying, even if it means I’ll get to see my sister again. I can’t bring myself to do it no matter how much better off the world would be with my death because I’m too scared and pathetic.

  So then the only thing I can do left is to at least try and believe that maybe, one day, the people will love me. One day they’ll accept me for who I am and not this cursed lineage I represent. If they love me enough, make me happy enough, then I won’t have a reason to become my father.

  “But that will never happen, Karolus. You know how deeply ingrained religion is in the empire. They might love you, adore you, even revere you, but it will never be the same as you desire. It will be the love one has toward their country, rather than family. It will be the respect and subservience toward the holy being you embody, such a blessed symbol so far beyond them, so distant from their common grasp. They will never love you like your sister did, my young friend—”

  “Then what am I supposed to do!?” I scream, tears streaming down my cheek. “How can I bring myself to fight for them, when I know they’ll only ever see the emperor, their God, this sick tradition passed down again and again and again? I’m not like Sir Ruggiero. I can’t accept Charlemagne as my name. I absolutely refuse. I don’t want it whatsoever, because it’ll mean keeping a part of my father’s legacy alive. Charlemagne is who he wants me to be. If I live with it, then it’s no different than living with him inside me.”

  “Then why—”

  “Because it’s what the people want. They want Charlemagne, Lucius, because they don’t care one bit about Karolus. I don’t matter; it’s never been about me. I’m just… a vessel for the throne. I exist only to carry on our holy lineage and to create another descendant, just like that man wanted me to. And in a way I guess he’s right. I will create another him, because who he was and who he represented was no different than what every emperor and empress has ever been: selfish, all powerful, unable to be stopped. I’m just another tiny thread on the spool of fate.”

  It’s terrifying how easily these words come out. It’s as if everything I’ve been holding back, the hurt, the pain, the spite and bitterness I’ve tried to bury for so long, are rushing out before I can stop it. And the worst part is that it doesn’t feel bad. It’s liberating in the worst way possible, because it lets me be as selfish as I want.

  “I’m done. I’m tired. Why do the people have to burden me with so much worship, when in the end I’m fated to become another tyrant? I’ll hurt them just as Pepin did, and then they’ll cry for another person to save them, the next ruler, and when that chosen one comes I’ll be struck down and pass the curse onto them. It never ends, Francia’s hold over us. It will never end as long as God keeps granting power to those who don’t deserve it.”

  I just don’t understand… why choose me? Why not my sister? She was always the better one, so much kinder and more sure of herself. She would’ve become a great empress if she lived. But apparently that wasn’t in the Mother’s plan, and so Gisela had to die alone while someone incompetent like me was forced to repeat this eternal succession.

  How can I possibly escape it? How can I break free, so that both the people and I can have some semblance of joy?

  Maybe I really do have to run away. I won’t pass on this blood, I won’t continue to pass down this gift of gold, and so I will throw away the crown and let it clatter where I can’t see. I’ll frolic in the fields of swaying gold, in the brooks and meadows I had only ever read about in storybooks, and I will finally be free from this curse called Charlemagne. I will finally be rid of it all and live happily all on my own.

  “But you won’t be rid of it, Karolus.”

  I bite my lip.

  “Even if you were to go out there and have the adventures once only seen in your dreams, occasionally you will be reminded of it: the home you left behind. It will gnaw on you, whittle you down little by little, until there is only regret of what could have been.”

  I take a shaky breath and lower my head.

  “You will torture yourself for running away. Do you know why?”

  I don’t respond.

  “It’s because you are kind. You are too empathetic, too compassionate and caring of others that you will never truly be able to prioritize solely yourself. That is both your blessing and your curse.”

  I hate being this way, unable to commit to either good or bad. If it was purely one or the other, life would be so much simpler.

  “But people are complex.”

  Yes, people are complex. I know that I’ll never be the emperor everyone wants, nor can I just let it all go and make a new life for myself somewhere else.

  I’m trapped, and there’s no escape. Before my eyes I see a pair of golden chains. Slowly, gradually, they slither onto my limbs, binding me in their hold and the legacy I will soon surrender myself to. They pull on me tighter, and tighter. I’m sinking. I’m falling. I can’t get back up.

  Maybe it’ll be better if I close my eyes and pretend that this was all just a bad dream. Let Karolus drown where no one else can see, and so Charlemagne will take his place. He’ll fulfill this timeless oath to God and rule over the people as emperor, and then one day he’ll fall and another will take his place. Whatever happens next, I don’t care. I won’t concern myself with it.

  Even if I’m lost in those starry skies above, at least all the pain will be gone. There’ll be no one to tell me where to go. I’ll be free, finally free.

  All I have to do is close my eyes and go to sleep.

  Forever.

  … But then, when the last remnant of me is just about to fade away, I think back to the moment when I picked up the holy sword.

  Why did I do that, when it would’ve been easier to submit to my father? Why did I protect Uncle Ganelon even if I knew it’d be painful?

  “Because you love him, Karolus, just as you do everyone else.”

  I can’t possibly be that caring.

  “You wanted to see him smile, didn’t you?”

  He was just as hurt as me when my sister died, maybe even more. That’s why I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to see him smile just as he did when we were all still together.

  “Do you still feel that way, even after all he has done to you?”

  Of course.

  “Why?”

  Because I’m still…

  I’m still the same as I was back then, the same child who cherished his family with all his little heart.

  “You’re still you, back then and now. That boy who loved deeply is still the same, no matter how far he’s buried or how long he’s been forgotten. Do you think your father was ever like that?”

  No, Uncle Ganelon made that clear. He was a bad person ever since he could remember.

  “Then what does that make you? You say it’s inevitable that you’ll become the tyrant he was, that with time you’ll submit to his curse and all that Francia and being the emperor represents, but Karolus… you are your own person. Your past, your dreams, your aspirations: they are wholly unique to you. Has your blood changed that? Even though your father took part in giving you life, have you ever once thought his ways to be right?”

  The answer to that is so simple that I can only laugh.

  “No,” I confidently say. “I have never once wanted to be like him.”

  “Then you never will, so long that you hold that wish dearly close,” Lucius replies. “Family is a complicated matter. Sometimes, we feel that its ties bind us, that just because we share the same blood that we must concern ourselves with their matters, their failures. But you know what, Karolus? The son needs not pay for the sins of his father. The only thing that matters, the only being you need to listen to, is what’s inside your own heart. What does it say? What does it sing, no longer held back by the relations of emperors’ past?”

  I reach down and gently touch my chest. I feel something pounding, stronger and stronger. Eventually its voice becomes clear, and through all my doubts, my pain, those memories I clung to despite how wretched it made me, I hear the soft lullaby of my sister.

  The last song she sang to me, before her death. And soon those very words soon leave my own lips.

  ———

  “I still remain, and I’m still one in the same.

  Though my love now goes by a different name, my heart stays unchanged.”

  ———

  She wanted to tell me that, no matter where she went, no matter the experiences I’d go through, I would still be me. This love I carried, even when weathered from grief, would still remain with me, leading me back to who I wished to be all those years ago.

  Maybe the person I am now is unrecognizable, forced to take on a new name. But though the people will see me as Charlemagne, though I know it’s likely they’ll never know me as Karolus, I will still be me.

  I am not my father. I am not who everyone else thinks me to be.

  I will remain as Karolus, so long that I treasure him dearly.

  “Thank you, Lucius,” I say to him. “It must’ve been awkward listening to me ramble for so long. But now, I… I feel a lot better. I think I know what I need to do now, what I need to cherish close.”

  The gentleman takes off his mask, and he smiles. He smiles with the same love I once felt from my sister.

  “On the contrary, my young friend. Seeing you cast off those golden chains was a truly beautiful sight. I shall remember it to the last of my days, the visage of a boy so radiantly bloomed.”

  This world can sometimes feel ever so cruel. There were many times when I felt hopeless, that tomorrow would never get better, but just as it brought pain it also gave me happiness. It allowed me to feel my sister’s love, to remember her and remember that she once lived.

  Thank you, Gisela. Thank you for being my family. But now—well, it’s a bit embarrassing to cling to you forever. So I’ll be brave and leave you for a little bit. I’ll see the world in your stead, experience everything you used to sing to me about, and then when it’s all over… I’ll come back here. It’ll be my turn to tell you stories.

  So wait for me, sister. And when I do return, I hope it’ll be as someone you can be proud of.

  The Esteemed Gentlepeople of the , to whom I am forever grateful.

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]