Ascension Of The Villain

Vyan sat nestled between his parents' gravestones, knees pulled tightly to his chest, ankles crossed as he swung gently back and forth. His laughter echoed through the quiet cemetery as he recounted the latest happenings, gossiping as if his parents were sitting right in front of him, hanging on to his every word.

It was easier that way—to pretend they were still here, listening, nodding along, maybe even rolling their eyes fondly at his reckless stupidity. He liked to believe they still could.

His laughter gradually faded into a sigh, though a smile lingered on his face, warm and wistful. "It's wild, you know?" he muttered, half to himself, half to the cold stone marking his parents' final resting place.

"Two years ago, if anyone had the nerve to tell me that I was your son—the Grand Duke and Duchess's—I would have laughed them right out of the room. Hell, I would have done the same to Benedict, if that hadn't already been the worst day of my life."

Vyan shrugged, shoulders rising in a casual gesture that belied the weight of his words. "Fifteen years. Fifteen years I believed I was an orphan, unwanted, abandoned by my own family." His smile softened, touched with a sadness he couldn't quite shake. "Turns out, I was the apple of your eye all along. Who would have guessed? I mean, I was still orphaned, sure, but at least this time...

I know I was loved. That's something, right?"

His fingers brushed the cold surface of his mother's tombstone, tracing the carved letters with a tenderness that clashed with the chill of the stone. "When Benedict told me the truth about you two, it felt like a cruel joke. From having no family to… then suddenly, deluding myself into thinking about having all the family, and the end result was? Back to no family."

"At the beginning, I thought nothing changed." He rested his chin on his knee, eyes distant. "Except I have got more wealth than I can count and more power than others can count. But I used to think, what is the point of all this when I have no family to share it with?"

"Don't worry, though, Mother, Father. Now, I have found a family of sorts. People who care, even if we are not bound by blood." He had come to realize that he didn't have to think of himself as someone who lived all alone in a huge estate. Just starting to count all the servants, live-in employees, and knights as family made everything easier for him, and even, for them.

"And," a grin formed on his face, "Having the wealth and power I do now makes all the difference. Because these things grant me the capability to help my newfound family all I can," he said, his grin starting to drop again.

"Still… it's hard not to wish you were both here," he paused, his voice quiet, almost fragile. Because no matter how much he gained in life, nobody could ever replace the hollow left by his parents.

"At least I found Ash. I mean, that's a miracle, right? Or maybe..." His smile faded completely. "A curse. Sixteen years... Sixteen years of pain and isolation.

Sometimes I wonder if death would have been kinder to him…"

He sighed, then brightened, forcing a chirp into his tone. "But you know what would be a real miracle?" His voice lightened, almost as if he believed it for a moment. "If Ash just… woke up one day, perfectly fine, like nothing ever happened."

A cold gust of wind swept through, making him shiver. Vyan rubbed his arms, trying to stave off the sudden chill.

"Yeah… I guess that's too much to hope for," he muttered bitterly. "But hey, can I complain about something a little less tragic?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of his playfulness slipping through. "Did you know Ash didn't even hug me when we first met? Totally rude, right? He flinched like I was some kind of disease. Can you believe that?

Here I was, trying to have a heartfelt, dramatic reunion, and he shuts me down." He pouted theatrically. "He made me cry! Seriously, can you guys do something about that?"

The silence stretched on after his playful complaints, and his chest tightened with the reality of their absence.

He exhaled slowly. "I know," he whispered, the warmth gone from his voice. "I should just be grateful he is back at all. And I am. Really." His eyes flickered with unshed tears. "I just wish…" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to finish.

"He can be truly happy one day again because… that's what would make me happy. I want… I want him to be free of the shadows of our past and live his life fully."

Vyan gazed up at the slate-gray sky, pulling his knees closer as the cold seeped into his bones. As the shivers started to become unbearable and his head started to hurt, Vyan called for a small fairy-like fire spirit to sit on his shoulders to warm him up.

"He is a cute one, right?" he muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips, "Clyde taught me how to communicate with the elemental spirits." Magic wasn't exactly required for it; the elemental spirits were already kind fairies who always existed in these sorts of areas. If only they were asked nicely, they would help out.

"Speaking of Clyde, he is the one who taught me how to wield my powers. I think… he is the first person I ever really acknowledged as family." A soft, hollow laugh escaped him, carried away by the wind. "That guy practically adopted me, did you know that? And he is... he is like this impossible mix of everything.

My annoying best friend, my overly responsible big brother, sometimes a wise old dad, and—believe it or not—a mother hen when my health is concerned." His chuckle held a feeling of bittersweetness, as if the memories tasted both sweet and sharp.

"I am really going to miss him when he leaves…"

Vyan's gaze dropped to the carvings before him—his parents' names etched into stone. "I bet you are wondering why I am saying he is leaving," he murmured, forcing a grin that felt all wrong. "Well, it's because he fell in love with our future empress. My best friend, the future emperor. Can you believe that? It's...

it's kinda ama–amazing." His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

"I always knew he wouldn't be my aide forever. It's something you prepare for, right? Or at least try to. And I am happy for him, really. But it's just..." The words stuck in his throat, too raw to say, too honest to hide. "It's just hard, you know?

Knowing it's coming, preparing myself for him leaving... and then actually dealing with it. It's like trying to breathe with half your heart missing. I don't… I don't want to lose him, and I know it's irrational to even think like that. Because he won't be really gone. He will still be my best friend.

He will just be... busy. Emperor things." His voice softened, a fragile sigh escaping him. "And I will be... stuck with my own duties. With an aide who is not Clyde."

He rested his chin on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper now. "You know, Mother, Father, I can't say all these stuff to anyone else. Because I am afraid I will sound so pathetic... But there is this part of me that can't shake the fear that… I will end up alone."

"Clyde will be gone, Ash... well, Ash isn't exactly there for me, not mentally, and Iyana..." He hesitated, the thought of her making his heart ache in a way he couldn't explain. "I don't even know if she would want to stay with me, after I tell her everything, which is why I keep delaying it with excuses. It feels like...

when everything ends, I will be the one left standing alone with absolutely nothing."

"Just like how it is for the villains from the novels," Vyan laughed, but it was small, fragile, like a brittle piece of glass. "I might just end up dying without even getting to accomplish my goals—abandoned by all the people I thought of as family."

His laughter died, his shoulders slumping. "Are my fears too unreasonable, Mother, Father?" he asked, his voice a child's whisper. "Or am I just an overthinker?"

"Oh, well, whatever it is, I get to whine in front of you two, right? I mean, you did sign up for this whole parenting thing," he pointed out. "I imagine that includes listening to your brat of a son whine about life now and then."

The silence, so familiar and so final, answered him. But in the quiet, it felt like permission for him to continue.

"I should apologize, though," Vyan continued softly, his voice filled with regret. "For not visiting sooner. I didn't feel... connected to you both for so long. I barely even remembered what you were like. But now that I do, I will come more often.

I will talk your ears off about all my problems. Honestly, it feels nice, like... like a weight I didn't know I was carrying just got lifted."

He let out a shaky laugh. "I just hope I don't annoy you too much. I can get pretty chatty when I am… feeling too much, I guess. But you already know that, right? I was always a nonstop talker. A little ball of energy."

A fleeting smile touched his lips as he thought of his childhood with his family, then his world turned upside down. His endless days filled with laughter, mischief, and an innocence long gone. The smile faltered, tinged with sorrow. "I guess I lost those habits along the way," he mused softly. "But it's fine... I am still me.

Just... quieter."

Vyan buried his face in his arms, closing his eyes against the sting of tears. "I love you, Mama, Papa," he whispered, his shoulders shaking under the emotions that suddenly overtook him. "And I miss you. So much."

For a moment, he let himself feel it all—grief, love, loss, the aching loneliness that no amount of wealth and power could ever fix.

His parents might not have been perfect. Maybe his mother had a knack for pushing him too hard during training. Maybe his father often remained buried in work and often missed the chance to listen to his outlandish tales with proper attention. Maybe he spent more time with his brother and Tia than with them. But none of that mattered.

They were still his mama and papa. They still loved him, and in their own flawed ways, they adored him. And he knew it was a gift. After all, not everyone was blessed with parents who loved them.

If Vyan's parents were here now, watching him tremble with shivers, he knew without a doubt his mother would have wrapped him up in her arms, scolding him for not wearing something warmer. His father, perhaps chuckling, would have draped his coat over Vyan, jostling his mother not to scold the poor kid too much.

From somewhere deep within, in the softest corner of his heart, Vyan liked to imagine that maybe—just maybe—they were embracing him even now.

Then, without warning, the dam broke.

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