Part ii coming out soon with Marius x femMC
Marius Von Hagen knew pressure very well. In fact, he was acquainted with pressure since he was born. Pressure had been holding his hand since he learned how to walk, and it’s always stuck by his side.
Pressure weighed on his back when he became prince. Pressure weighed on his back when he sat with the neighboring royal children. Pressure weighed on his back when his brother ran away. Pressure weighed on his back when he became the crown prince. Pressure weighed on his back when his parents both grew old and ill.
Pressure weighed on his back when he became king.
And here he sat on the throne. It felt uncomfortable, like he didn’t belong there. The elbow rests of the golden chair were cold, unwelcoming. The seat itself was big. He felt like a small child, sitting there.
It reminded him that he was only king in name. At least, that was what people kept saying. He almost believed them. He really should. After all, how could he rule a kingdom he was never meant to rule?
Was this why his brother left? Were the responsibilities too much? Was this why he ran away, leaving all the heavy burdens behind for his pitiful younger brother?
Marius slumped in his seat defeatedly. It wasn’t like he could ask his parents for help when they were both ill in their beds.
But now that there was a change in power, advisors, military commanders, and neighboring kingdoms were watching for a chance to swoop in and eat up Marius. They were waiting for him to slip and fall, using it to their advantage. They would try and try to manipulate Marius, the ignorant younger prince who only knew how to draw.
He heard the whispers in the long halls. He knew of the names they conjured up for him. He could feel the contempt through their fake smiles.
“Your Royal Majesty,” one of the advisors coughed. Marius snapped out of his daze and looked at him. The advisor furrowed his eyebrow and stated, “As the king of this nation, it would be wise not to mindlessly daydream in the middle of a meeting.”
Marius could hear another counselor scoff under his breath, “King? He’s no king. Just a foolish child wearing a crown.”
He raised eyes at the two men calmly.
“Tell me, old man, who is my father?”
The counselor stared back at him with caution as he answered, “His Royal Majesty King Austin von Hagen.”
Marius smirked when he heard his voice quiver. “Alright, and what is my brother’s title?”
Whispers rush between the men along the long table. It was an unspoken rule not to speak of the original crown prince. They could feel the tension suffocate them.
“H-His Royal Highness… Prince G-Giann von Hagen.”
“Good!” Marius smiled, praising the old man, who sat there, sweating buckets of water. “Now,” he stared straight into his eyes, “what is my title?”
“Y-Your Royal Majesty… King Marius von Hagen II.”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Marius waved his finger at the counselor. “That’s not what you said a few seconds ago. Tell me, oh, wise counselor.” He walked behind the old man, towering above him. He placed his hands on his shoulders and asked, “What did you call me?”
The silence was loud. Everyone could only look down, ignoring the counselor. Marius could feel the man shake beneath his touch.
He knew this wasn’t the life he was meant for. He knew that he was better off painting somewhere far away from the throne. Marius knew he was an incompetent king.
When the man said nothing, Marius whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “That’s treason, you know? What should we do with you, hmm? We could,” he traced his finger on the shaking counselor’s neck, “slit your throat. Hang you. Maybe both. Or wait,” he snaked his arm around the man’s shoulder and harshly grabbed the man’s cheeks with one hand.
“We could cut that tongue of yours out.”
As if that triggered something in him, the man began to sputter out words, begging for mercy. He’d be on his knees if he could, but he didn’t dare shove Marius away. The young king cringed when he felt the man’s snot and tears drip down on his hand. Hastily, he pulled away and called for the guards.
As they forced the counselor away, he screamed and cried, but they all fell on deaf ears. Marius turned to the others who sat there with pale faces.
“I think it’d be best to end the meeting here today. Good day, everyone.” He turned to leave, and everyone let out a sigh of relief, until he turned around. They all flinched and attempted to compose themselves. “Ah, by the way,” he eyed each one of them carefully. “I wasn’t joking when I said that was treason. If I hear a single one of you utter a word about my father, brother, or me, I will cut your tongues out, and let it be known that your families won’t be spared.”
He swiftly exited the room and headed to his parents room.
Pressure trailed behind him, so he walked faster. It was a hopeless attempt, as it caught up to him in no time. He paused his movement and clutched his chest, taking in heavy breaths. The shame and embarrassment clouds his vision, while fear blocked his hearing. He was simply alone, facing his fellow friend pressure once more.
He could tell it was mocking him. He could hear its laughs as it pointed at him, calling his crown unbefitting of him, a faux king. He could feel the judgement of its eyes as it stared at him, his glimmering jewels and badges and oversized cape.
Even with all the riches and gold covering him, he felt so naked.
When he felt its hand on its shoulder, he turned and yelled at it, hoping the nightmare would end.
There he was, Vyn, his Royal Tutor, hand in the air as it was shoved away by Marius, and wearing a surprised expression on his face.
He quickly erased whatever trace of shock he had on his face and inquired the boy, “Should we skip todays lessons, Your Royal Majesty?”
Marius blinked back at him, not comprehending what he had just said.
What just happened? Did he shove Vyn?
Vyn saw his visible panic and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. The poor boy looked at him with fear.
“Don’t call me that,” he whispered with closed eyes. “That’s not me. I’m not…”
“Oh, but you are,” Vyn said. “Let’s talk somewhere more private, shall we?”
No words came out of Marius, so the Tutor pulled the depressed king along with him into a private guest bedroom. He softly pushed Marius to sit on the bed, while he himself sat on the chair, watching the boy.
Marius stared at the ground emptily. “Can I answer you honestly, Vyn?”
“Of course. You can tell me anything… Marius,” he added that at the end carefully. The boy let out a relieved sigh once he heard Vyn drop the honorifics.
“You really don’t have to call me all those things in public either, Vyn.”
He smiled, “That would be rude and almost treasonous. Didn’t I teach you that?”
“Argh,” Marius bent over, covering his face. “Don’t even mention the word treason near me again.”
“Why? What’s wrong with that?”
Marius looked up, and Vyn chuckled at his distressed expression. “I may have gotten mad at someone for talking shit about me, so I sent him to the chambers and threatened to cut his tongue off…”
Vyn raised an eyebrow, “Was it someone from the Council?”
“Yeah, it was,” Marius sighed.
“Well, it was very irrational to say, at the least, but at least you took the initiative to use your power. That’s the first step of being a ruler.”
“But I don’t want to be a ruler, Vyn. You know that. This,” he got up and spread his arms out, pointing to himself, “none of this stuff feels right. Being King doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right. Everything is just so…” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes hard to stop the tears.
Vyn sat there patiently. He watched as the boy just a bit younger than him fall apart. He knew it would happen one day. No, in fact, he hoped it would happen. Perhaps this was Marius’s way to free himself from this mess of a kingdom he was born it.
The Tutor was smart. He was intelligent enough to be a military strategist, maybe even be King, but he was unlucky. He was born with commoner blood, yet maybe he was grateful to have been a mere peasant, a mere servant to serve a spoiled prince because he realized being born with royal blood didn’t mean you were lucky; you were just crushed even more by the endless expectations of thousands of people who entrust their lives to you.
He knew what Marius was going to
Everything was just so suffocating.
It took a while for Marius to stop crying. Vyn chuckled to himself thinking about it. How old was he? Twenty-one, right? Twenty-one and still weeping like he was five.
“Marius.” The boy who was sitting down on the bed, hugging a soft white pillow, looked up with puffy eyes. They decided it was best to stay until his eyes were a bit better in case word spreads that the King is a big baby. “If the pressure makes you too anxious, how about visiting the Themis Temple?”
“Temple? But I’m not religious,” Marius sniffed.
“I know that, but it might calm you a bit. Visiting the temple may bring peace and tranquil for your mind. Plus, I heard the priests and priestesses there are very kind and welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”
The boy raised his eyebrow when he heard the words “welcoming to all, despite social and economical differences.”
Was there really such a place that would overlook such things?
“Plus, I hear that they have this intriguing… we’ll call it ‘tradition.’”
“What do you mean by that?” Marius questioned.
“Well, you see, they believe that all the Head Priestesses that are born inherit Themis’s blood. I hear the Head Priestess as of now has a daughter who is coming of age to become the next Head Priestess, so they’re having this event, almost like a ritual to perform on the girl.”
Marius furrowed his eyebrows. “Ritual?”
Vyn nodded, “Yes, a ritual. I’ve only heard rumors, since the last one was forty years ago, but, apparently, the girl gets hot water poured all over her. It’s suppose to symbolize inheriting the burdens of the last Head Priestess and to make her feel the injustice of this world weigh down on her.”
Marius frowned. That sounded more like torture. He felt pity for the girl. She seemed similar to Marius, born with responsibility and pressure, with a role she never asked for.
“How about you go with me right now? We can use our study time to see whether or not you’ll like it. Plus, I believe it’s an opportunity of a lifetime.”
“But won’t people recognize me?” He inquired.
“The question you should be asking is not that, but if you ‘want’ people to recognize you.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want people to know,” he grumbled.
“Then we shall dress as normal aristocrats. Come now, I have plenty of clothes that will suit you. You’ll have to make due with a commoner’s clothes, Your-“
“Don’t even think about addressing me like that,” he sneers. “And I don’t mind about wearing commoner stuff. I don’t care for this social hierarchy at all.”
Vyn whistles, “How cute, coming from a person of privilege.”
“You know that’s not what I mean!”
“Right, right, of course. I’ll just have to trust your word then. Now, shall we get dressed?”
The two exit the guest bedroom and head to Vyn’s, which was a couple doors down the hall. They walked side by side. Though the servants and maids whispered among themselves, Marius was occupied with his thoughts.
He couldn’t get his mind off of the girl. Perhaps it was infatuation, or genuine curiosity. He created an illusion in his mind.
In his fantasies, he would speak with the girl. He would ask if she felt proud to be part of this bloodline of Goddess’s, or if she felt as if such a position did not suit someone like her. In his mind, she would hesitantly tell him her true thoughts, that she didn’t want to burn under the wrath of the burning water. He would say he felt the same, that he had always been crushed by the constant expectations of the people. He would hold her hand and promise that he would save her, that the two of them could run away together, and she would agree. And together they would-
“The advisors weren’t wrong about you and your constant daydreaming,” Vyn chuckled as he flicked his forehead. Marius flinched, groaning out loud as he slapped his hand above his eyes. The Tutor turned the knob and held the door open. “Hurry now; we wouldn’t want to miss the performance, would we?”
Marius huffed and stepped in, shoving the Tutor along his way. Inside, Artem sat at Vyn’s desk, reading a few documents. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and his face wore a tired expression with the visible frown and disheveled hair.
It would be best not to piss off the Royal Justice.
“Artem,” Vyn called out. The grumpy man turned away from his papers and nodded at Vyn. When he noticed Marius, he heaved himself up to properly greet his king, but Marius quickly stopped him.
“Hey, sit down. I don’t need to hear any more honorifics than I should, and I would really hate hearing them from you.”
Artem sighed as he sat back down, pinching his nose bridge. “Sorry, I’m just completely exhausted right now. Work has been so swamped lately.”
Marius softened his eyes. “Is there anyway I can help you?”
The Royal Justice shook his head, “No. If you assisted me, word would spread that I am incompetent. There’s already enough rumors spreading around the castle.”
He had already known how brutally honest Artem was. Still, he could never get used to it. It ticked him off how Artem brushed him off like that; it felt insulting.
Before Marius could say any retort, Vyn placed a hand on his shoulder. “Artem, how about we all take a break?”
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