At one time, he'd thought the book knew everything. He'd been young, then, impressionable, perhaps a bit naive. His father had still been alive to shelter him from the horrendousness of the rest of the world and beat out of him whatever weaknesses he thought unfit for a prince.
Into The Looking-Glass, the book was called, a beautifully fancy title written in elegantly ornate script. He thought the shiniest bits might be real gold leaf, but it was hard to tell, with the book being as battered as it was. The pages were yellowing and decrepit, the spine worn nearly to pieces, and for a while it was his god.
Whenever he had a question on what sort of decision to make, what policies to enforce, how to deal with double agents and manage spies, he turned to the book. It told him how to earn respect (or fear) and keep it, how to prevent coups, and how to choose the perfect bride.
Speaking of brides, he had been five years old when he'd first met his, a lovely little thing even then with deep purple eyes he could have stared into forever, fiery red hair that flowed about her as some sort of strange overgown, and the cheerfully charming disposition the book said would make her a good queen. He'd loved her as soon as he saw her, but... she'd never loved him in return.
His beloved book told him how to deal with that, of course. Simply take her as his wife and queen with no consideration given to how she felt (he was the king, after all, there wasn't a person who would dare stand in his way), and for a while that worked. It worked until she began hiding herself in her room, snarling at him whenever he so much as approached her, and spilled so much of the royal blood whenever he forced her to bed.
He'd always loved her. She just wouldn't love him back, she'd hated him instead for everything he'd done to her, and maybe there was a chance that that had driven him to drastic measures.
(poor sweet Feferi, she died so young, the prince is simply heartbroken...)
The book doesn't tell him how to deal with an angry, vengeful spirit who no one else can see or hear, who makes his courtiers think he's gone mad for screaming retorts in the middle of the throne room, who causes his life to be just as much of a living hell as he made hers.
And finally, their emotions sync.
As an assassin's knife ends the life of a king deemed unfit to rule, he's finally learned to hate her back.
FILL: TEAM ERIDAN<3<VRISKA
Into The Looking-Glass, the book was called, a beautifully fancy title written in elegantly ornate script. He thought the shiniest bits might be real gold leaf, but it was hard to tell, with the book being as battered as it was. The pages were yellowing and decrepit, the spine worn nearly to pieces, and for a while it was his god.
Whenever he had a question on what sort of decision to make, what policies to enforce, how to deal with double agents and manage spies, he turned to the book. It told him how to earn respect (or fear) and keep it, how to prevent coups, and how to choose the perfect bride.
Speaking of brides, he had been five years old when he'd first met his, a lovely little thing even then with deep purple eyes he could have stared into forever, fiery red hair that flowed about her as some sort of strange overgown, and the cheerfully charming disposition the book said would make her a good queen. He'd loved her as soon as he saw her, but... she'd never loved him in return.
His beloved book told him how to deal with that, of course. Simply take her as his wife and queen with no consideration given to how she felt (he was the king, after all, there wasn't a person who would dare stand in his way), and for a while that worked. It worked until she began hiding herself in her room, snarling at him whenever he so much as approached her, and spilled so much of the royal blood whenever he forced her to bed.
He'd always loved her. She just wouldn't love him back, she'd hated him instead for everything he'd done to her, and maybe there was a chance that that had driven him to drastic measures.
(poor sweet Feferi, she died so young, the prince is simply heartbroken...)
The book doesn't tell him how to deal with an angry, vengeful spirit who no one else can see or hear, who makes his courtiers think he's gone mad for screaming retorts in the middle of the throne room, who causes his life to be just as much of a living hell as he made hers.
And finally, their emotions sync.
As an assassin's knife ends the life of a king deemed unfit to rule, he's finally learned to hate her back.