Ascension Of The Villain

When Vyan was five, he hadn't even understood what was happening. His father had sent him away with Benedict, and Vyan—naïve, innocent—had assumed he would be back home soon.

Days turned into months, months into years. At Fred's, he had convinced himself that his family was still alive, searching for him. But the memories—those memories—he had buried them deep, sabotaging his own mind to escape the pain Fred inflicted.

By the time he arrived at the orphanage, the truth had been twisted and tainted. He wasn't a lost prince, just another abandoned kid—at least, that's what all the cruel, mean children loved to tell him. And a part of him believed it.

But now, sitting here, in front of his parents' gravestones, the truth hit him with all the force of sixteen years' worth of unshed tears. He wanted to mourn them—no vengeance, no hatred, just the raw, aching grief of a boy who never had the chance to say goodbye.

Vyan hugged his knees tighter, burying his face in the crook of his arm as another sob wracked through him. "I should have had this moment back then," he whispered through the tears, his voice shaking. "Sixteen years ago, I should have been able to cry for you. I should have..."

But he hadn't. He hadn't been given the chance. Not until now.

And so, today, in the quiet of the graveyard, Vyan let himself mourn, let himself grieve like the child he had once been—small, scared, and lost.

———

After what felt like an eternity, Vyan pulled himself up from the ground, wiping his tear-streaked face. His head pounded from what he assumed was from the sobbing, but strangely, his chest felt lighter. Even the world around him appeared a little brighter.

The sky had cleared, the sun breaking through the once-ominous clouds, starting to cast soft golden rays over the late afternoon gloom. But despite the warmth, a deep chill lingered in his bones.

Instinctively, he glanced at his shoulder, expecting the familiar warmth of the fire spirit, only to find it gone. It must have slipped away amidst the cascade of his emotions.

He shook his head, the motion nearly knocking him off balance, and turned toward his parents' graves, a genuine smile breaking free.
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"I am going now," he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of peace. "I will see you both soon."

The tears had done their job. This time, it felt like closure, the kind he wasn't going to revisit anytime soon. He couldn't keep giving in to these overwhelming surges of emotion—it was draining. He had an image to maintain, after all. Villainous types didn't cry at the drop of a hat.

It almost felt like some cosmic punishment for spending half his life numb, as if the universe was now demanding he feel everything all at once.

But that was done with. Over. Now, if only the pounding in his skull would stop—

His vision swirled, the world tilting on its axis for a few disorienting seconds.

Vyan clutched his head, feeling the intense heat radiating from his forehead. "Oh, fantastic," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "I have got a fever. Great timing."

No wonder he had been freezing despite the warmth. He scoffed at his own body's fragility. "Who catches a cold in summer? Seriously?"

With a groan, he dragged his feet toward the cemetery gate, wishing his body would keep up with the resilience of his mind.

As expected, Clyde stood waiting outside, but it was Aster beside him that took Vyan by surprise. His brother's hand hovered in the air, his eyes fixated with childlike intensity on a fluttering butterfly, fingers twitching as if aiming to catch it but never quite managing.

Clyde caught Vyan's gaze and smiled gently. "He said you have got a fever and insisted on waiting out here for you."

Vyan felt a tightness in his chest, the words catching in his throat. "Is he—"

Clyde nodded, the simple gesture confirming what Vyan feared. Aster's mind was still stuck in the past, forever seeing Vyan as the five-year-old he had once been.

"Ah," Vyan breathed, the truth settling in. His gaze drifted back to Aster, I still am a stranger to you, aren't I?

Nevertheless, he stepped forward, bridging that gap. With a gentle motion, Vyan caught the delicate wings of the butterfly, trapping it between his fingers with the ease Aster lacked.

"Hold out your hand," he murmured, his voice soft.

Aster's eyes flickered to Vyan's face, wide with an innocent wonder, and he obeyed, slowly extending his palm. Vyan placed the butterfly there, casting a small bubble around it, freezing the fragile creature in place.

Aster's face twisted in fear, his expression mirroring the helplessness of the insect, trapped behind an invisible wall. That confinement reflected his own—years locked away.

A faint, knowing smile touched Vyan's lips. He waved his hand, breaking the spell, and the bubble dissolved. The butterfly, freed from its prison, fluttered its wings and took flight once more, dancing on the breeze.

Aster's expression transformed, his fear melting into pure, unfiltered joy as he watched the butterfly's ascent, his grin one of bewildered wonder.

"Being free is nice, isn't it?" Vyan whispered, his eyes following the butterfly as it soared toward the sky. "Spreading its wings, flying wherever it desires... don't you want to be like that butterfly?"

Aster looked over at Vyan in confusion, and Vyan gestured to the sun rays breaking out from the cloud, the direction that the butterfly flew towards. Aster gulped at the sight, and Vyan was about to place his hand on his shoulder but stopped, his hand hovering right over it but not touching. He wasn't sure whether it would spook him or not.

He was okay with it during the rainfall a few days ago, but now, Vyan wasn't entirely sure.

"If you let the sunshine wash over you today," Vyan spoke, "you will have taken one step towards the freedom that this butterfly now has."

His words hung in the air, laden with a hope—an unspoken wish for his brother to reclaim his own freedom, to break through the barriers that held him. If not mentally, he should at least have the physical freedom to walk about as he pleased.

As the clouds started to part right near them, everything starting to light up with sunshine, Vyan prayed, Mother, Father, please help Ash—

Aster grabbed Vyan's lingering hand, clutching it tightly. "Stay… stay with me."

A fond smile took over Vyan, despite the energy draining from his body by the minute. "Of course."

As natural as it was for a normal person to stand in the sunlight, it was just as unnatural for Aster. It was hard for Aster, and Vyan wanted to do his best to understand him. Even it was a bit silly to be waiting for the sunlight to wash over them, like it was something actually dangerous, but—

"You will be okay, Vee," Aster whispered, not for Vyan, but for the consolation of the deluded image from his fragmented mind.

Regardless of that, Vyan took it for himself because he was Vee and smiled confidently.

Yes, Ash. I will be okay.

The shadows of his past would never make Vyan fall weak ever again.