Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Age-Old Concept
Song Connection: Merakana Theme Song
It was never my intention for things to go this way… Call it pride, or call it lunacy… Maybe I am just as wicked and cruel as everyone believes… The world is harsh to anyone it deems different, and I am no exception. So yes, I did what I did… But I wasn’t the only one…
Twenty years ago, in a kingdom called Merakana, the people were thriving. Business and trade were both doing exceptionally well, and many other surrounding kingdoms looked to Merakana as a prime example of success. Of course, not everything was perfect, and even the beauty and prestige of the land couldn’t hide the obvious problems plaguing the royal family.
Emperor Branimir, a steady and strong leader like several others in his lineage, was revered as a powerful and fair man. He was in his late 40s already, and his once-black hair had already begun graying, matching his mustache and beard. Like his father and grandfather, he possessed fair skin and green eyes, and he was physically and mentally strong. He wore royal green robes with gold piping in the fabric, a gold and emerald pendant fashioned around his neck.
Emperor Branimir had married later in life after spending the better part of a decade working to ensure his kingdom possessed a solid foundation. Marriage and an heir to the throne had truly been the last thing on his mind, but after much prompting from his advisors, he’d finally agreed to a potential arrangement. Since he was not well-versed in things like romance or relationships other than familial ones, he’d placed his trust in his advisors to find him a suitable wife.
However, when his closest advisor, Doyle, first introduced him to Princess Ilyana from the lesser known Kingdom of Runefeld, the emperor wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. She had all the qualities he’d come to expect in a princess: beautiful olive skin, long brown hair that fell in waves down her back, mysterious hazel-gray eyes, and a lovely blue velvet dress that trailed the floor behind her when she walked. She was graceful and elegant, spoke kindly to others, was patient with everyone—including the emperor—when needed, and gave off the essence of everything the kingdom needed in an empress.
“I don’t like her,” Emperor Branimir complained to Doyle as he swayed back and forth in his office chair. “She’s so…perfect.”
Doyle, his blue eyes trying hard to abstain from rolling at the older man’s words, closed briefly before a sigh fell from his lips. He smiled patiently at the leader of the kingdom, folding his arms. “One might think such a quality would be pleasing to Your Majesty.”
“Doyle, drop the ‘royal servant’ act and talk to me like a normal person.”
“Fine. You’re an idiot.” He stepped up to the desk separating him from his long-time friend (they’d met as children), his hands falling to the desk as the emperor smirked up at him. “Ilyana is the nicest woman any of us have ever met, and you’re being picky. What do you not like? Her style? Her pleasantries?”
“She’s almost too pleasant though. Where’s the substance? The originality? Every single ‘princess’ I’ve met has always been beautiful and nice. Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad she’s lovely, and that will certainly be good for any potential children, but…” He sighed. “What if she’s boring?”
“You collect seasonal leaves and count your growing pile of ‘interestingly shaped rocks,’ and she’s the boring one? Bran, come on…”
The emperor chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine… I’ll take a chance courting her. But she has two weeks to earn my interest before I have you send for someone else.”
Doyle nodded. “Fair enough.”
To say he’d underestimated the woman would be an understatement. As it turned out, Ilyana was very opinionated, and she had something of a fiery streak that Emperor Branimir was immediately drawn to. He appreciated her zeal for life and rather impulsive nature, whether that was them sneaking away from the guards to roll around in the garden under the moonlight, flowers and grass precariously tangling in her hair, or diving completely bare into a nearby river while on one of their many outings, pulling him in with her. She was pleasant and kind, but she was also spontaneous, which the man found both charming and appealing.
Needless to say, those two weeks came and went, and less than a year passed before they’d wed on a warm summer day. Their union brought about even more happiness to the land, as the inhabitants of the kingdom and surrounding lands enjoyed seeing their dynamic and held high expectations for their union to produce a strong heir to continue Merakana’s leadership and legacy.
Alas, things had not been easy for the royal couple. Emperor Branimir and Empress Ilyana struggled to conceive a child. Ilyana had already suffered two miscarriages and one stillbirth, which had nearly broken her.
“I don’t know if I have it in me to try anymore, Bran,” Ilyana told her husband one evening several months after the last loss of a child. He had already disrobed and was in the process of undressing her too, but she hardly made any movements as she felt his familiar hands caressing her body. A body she hated… A body that had betrayed her so many times… Was it asking too much to give her just one baby?
“Ilyana, we must try,” he told her gently, green eyes trained on her expression as he ran his fingers over her sensitive skin. “We need an heir to the throne. I’m not getting any younger, and while some of my advisors had suggested the possibility of getting one of the servant girls to carry my child, I do not want that. I want you—as the mother of my child.”
The empress stared at him with a mixture of fondness and uncertainty. He’d spoken of bedding other women before—out of sheer desperation for a baby for the kingdom. ‘The advisors said we could say the child is yours, and no one would question it.’ He’d said it on more than one occasion, but he’d certainly stopped after she’d finally told him how awful it made her feel. Hearing him remind her how he wanted her and only her to carry his child relaxed her a bit. Even still, something within her was growing tighter, and she was uncertain. “I just wish we had a guarantee… I can feel my body growing weaker each time I’ve become pregnant, and I’m just afraid something will either happen to the next baby, to me, or to both of us…”
“I understand. Be with me tonight, love, and I will pursue some other measures soon—a guarantee that this pregnancy will finally be successful.”
She frowned. “How?”
He leaned down and kissed her, his body practically melting into hers as she moaned in pleasure. He never did answer her question, as he was rather sure she wouldn’t like his response…
The next evening, when Ilyana had already gone to bed, Emperor Branimir dressed in a cloak and traveled to a seedier part of the kingdom where many magic wielders of all alliances gathered: to drink, to conduct rituals, to gamble, and more. He entered a tavern where magic flowed freely, and off-key music was being played by a few drunk musicians on less-than-quality instruments. Still, he ignored that and scanned the crowd of gathered people until he finally located someone he’d only heard about in passing. A rather unusual person, at that…
This man had blue skin and glowing blue veins, pale blue eyes with hardly any semblance of pupils, shocking white hair that stood on end, a serious expression, and dark robes fastened at the front with a bronze medallion. In his hand he held a black stone claw-looking item with a sharp blue gem atop it. He sat alone at a table in the corner of the tavern, his eyes merely scanning the crowd as he slowly consumed his broth. However, those eyes turned to the emperor the moment the other man sat down across from him, lowering his cloak ever so slightly to reveal his true identity. Rather than being surprised by the emperor’s presence, the blue-skinned man almost appeared intrigued. “Emperor,” he greeted simply.
“You are Velesin, correct?” Watching the other man’s brows furrow ever so slightly before seeing him nod, the emperor cleared his throat. “I hear you’re a man who might be the most powerful wielder here.”
“That’s rather subjective, honestly,” Velesin argued lightly. “There are many others here with even more potent magic, but that’s just our world.”
“Then what is that contraption you’re holding?” He smiled knowingly as the other man gripped the staff in his hand, seemingly affronted. “If you feel you’re less potent than others, you would likely not be carrying such a powerful-looking item. What is it?”
“It’s called the Empirical Spear.”
The emperor laughed lightly. “It doesn’t seem that ‘empirical’ to me.” His tone almost sounded disappointed, though it was hard to tell. “I’ve honestly seen better magical items.”
“You say you’ve heard of me,” Velesin countered, redirecting their conversation. “I can tell you wish to ask something of me, and yet you insult me?” He hardened his gaze a bit, stirring his broth with his spoon. “With all due respect, Emperor, what is it you want from me?”
“My wife and I have been trying to have a child, but she has lost the last three. Two within the womb, and one was delivered as a stillbirth.” He frowned as Velesin stared at him unblinkingly. “We began this pregnancy journey as a means to an end: a way to produce an heir for the kingdom. However, I truly want a child for Ilyana and myself, and…”
“I… And you came to me to help you…sow your oats?”
“Well, I did that last night—”
Velesin held up one hand, his veins shimmering with their unusual glow as the firelight from the surrounding sconces flickered. “I don’t need to know the details. But I do have something that might help you and the empress.” He settled the spear directly in front of him, waving his free hand over the gem at the top, watching as it changed colors from blue to seven different gradients of color. He reached up to a piece of aquamarine-colored glass, pinching it until it snapped away from the rest of the gemstone. “This,” he announced as he passed it over to Emperor Branimir, who held it curiously, “is called Waveglass. It will help your wife safely conceive a child.”
“How?” Emperor Branimir asked. “Surely, she’s not going to be expected to—” He blinked as Velesin placed his spear on the table before retrieving the glass from his hands, grinding it into his own bare hands with nothing but force and the tiniest bit of magic.
Velesin conjured a vial from thin air, which he filled with the ground glass, now thin enough to be considered a powder instead. He fashioned it into a potion with his magic, observing the aquamarine liquid inside the vial. He then handed it to the emperor, who took it and looked at it from different angles. “When you return home, have Empress Ilyana drink this. Your child will be conceived as a result, and that child will have magical properties granted by the Waveglass, from South Kingsland—the homeland of the gem. And…eyes the same color as the stone itself.” His eyes grew colder as he stared intensely at the other man. “Although I am very certain that this will result in a child, it’s never a guarantee. However, regardless, you will owe me. Not only did I fracture my Empirical Spear for you, but I’m also literally giving you the gift of life. That doesn’t come at a cheap price.”
The emperor nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course! Of course… A hundred pieces of silver?”
He snorted, almost seeming indignant. “It is not money I seek. You will know in time what I require. In the meantime, the empress must drink that potion, and she will conceive your child immediately afterwards.”
Although he was unsure what to make of the magic wielder’s words, the emperor was more anxious than anything to get home to his wife. A baby… An heir to Merakana… If this was a success, he and the love of his life could finally have everything to make their family and lives complete.
To be continued…
Next Chapter: Deep Waters