BOON

Written on October 23, 2024 (♎︎︎)

Author's Notes: Written for Whumptober 2024 for prompt No. 23: Forced Choice ("I'm doing this for you.").

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"Wasn’t I supposed to have been a priest?" Zalbag said laconically as he looked over the battlements. "Would it be so awful a thing to inherit as other second sons do?"

Dycedarg, who had anticipated some resistance to their father’s wishes, moved to his brother’s side.

"There were a lot of things that were supposed to happen. The war was supposed to be over before my twelfth year. The Romandans were supposed to stay on the other side of the strait. Denamanda was supposed to lead us all to a bright and glorious future." His voice was cool. "I would not be surprised if it was carried General Beoulve was supposed to have died in battle and not in his bed."

Zalbag–silent and pale as the stones of Igros–did not turn to look at him. His shoulders dropped slightly.

"I can lead the Hokuten if you will it–but I’ll probably be dead in the week, and then it will fall to you again."

"There’s no war to die in."

"I'll start one,” Dycedarg quipped.

Then, before he could be chastised for his levity. "In truth though, what is mine is mine to give. Consider it a gift, brother–not an inheritance."

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