Never has Lucio ever experienced hate. At least, not when he is present.   Whenever he faces a crowd, one would expect him to be the center of the spotlight, the star, the center of attraction, like a God to be worshipped. Yea, yea, you get the idea. This is the very definition of the Count. To those who defy him, to those who hate him, they will all perish. Defy him? Execution. Contradict him? Execution. Against him? Execution. Yes, he is indeed cruel, selfish, self absorbed, narcissistic and idiotic. He had always wanted to be number one, never number two.

And you hated that. You hated that your mother Morga and your father always spoilt your older brother Montag. He deserved to die and not to be spared after it was found that he indeed murdered your father. And yet, Morga let him get away, start a new life, be a ruler of his own city. Ever since he was gone, you were now the heiress of the Scourge of the South. You made sure to be patient unlike your pathetic brother Montag, or whatever he called himself.
It turned out to be a right choice to make you leader. Although, you can't help but to envy Montag.

Morga had always been strict when it comes to you. Unlike how she treated him, she had always have a tight grip around your neck. You understand why, but you can't help but to long for her motherly affection. A simple "I am proud of you" would at least be enough for you, but no. She never say that. She always say to you, "Don't let your guard down," "Don't fail me," "Don't let enemies spot your weakness," don't, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't. You felt like being stripped away from your freedom.

But you can't help but to just forget about it. He is gone and you were certain that he isn't going to come back ever again. And he won't ruin your life again. He had always find ways to lower your esteem, to make you feel useless, to always be the 'second best'. He always find a way to make you feel... Too attached. Too vulnerable to do anything without him. You were gullible back then, always following what he had to say.

At this current moment, you were occupied cleaning the fish's innards, when you suddenly heard a rustle. Holding on to your knife, you tightly gripped it like a lifeline. Adrenaline was always active in your systems. Perhaps this was the reason Morga was always strict. You immediately turned your head to where the noise came from, when you saw nothing. It was just probably a stray rabbit or an animal. As it turns out to be a false alarm, you turned back to your task, still high on alert, when you heard it;

"M— My Goodness!" You heard a high pitched masculine voice exclaim in distress. From his accent, you can easily identify him as a lost foreigner who is perhaps lost. Morga told you to ignore those who are lost to find their own paths, but you always stubbornly help them out. "You! Fix the carriage!" You can't help but to snicker at him as he sneezes his lungs out. You stood up from where you sat and began to approach their direction, when you felt the familiar sensation burning in the back of your head. You have long forgotten about this feeling and you can't quite put a finger on it. You shrug and began to approach them.

You hid behind a thick tree, climbing on it for a safe measure, before spying on the people below. The three of them were clad in strange, colourful clothing as they were facing forward towards you, while the other was wearing a lavish military uniform with golden, intricate details, facing his back against you. You awed when you spotted his golden prosthetic arm, tilting your head to the side. Even if Morga was strict, you can always find ways to contradict her orders without even disobeying her. A clever way to avoid her rules that you yourself can't really understand, but not quite. You curiously stared at them, before one of them spots you.

"Your highness look!" One of the soldiers (Or what you assumed for them to be, they looked more like clowns than soldiers) pointed at you, his other companions glancing to where he was pointing. In a flash, you climbed higher to prevent yourself from being spotted. You were in a frenzy when they almost spotted you and thanks to your quick reflex, you avoided them.

The man in white military uniform scoffed, before facing the soldier that pointed at you with a scary look. At this point, you still can't recognize the man. But somehow, he is triggering a memory. An unpleasant one.

"You think this is funny?" Before the soldier could even protest, the man who held a high rank slapped him across the face with his hand. "You think all of this is a game?" You flinched, looking away as the man slapped the soldier again, out you can't help but to look at them again. You eyes widened when the man was about to strike the soldier with his prosthetic arm. A lethal looking prosthetic arm.

Out of your wits, you jumped down and raced to protect the soldier, with only a tree branch. The blond man was distraught, but glares at you. "You! How dare you intervene!" He shouts. His eyes widened in shock, his arm getting light as he lowered it. As much as you want to beat him with his own prosthetic arm, you can't help but to feel what he is feeling. A feeling of familiarity. "You..." He lowly mumbled.

You finally worked into tugging strings of thoughts to figure out who this was. "M—," you refused to say his name. His name was a drop of venom and you can't bare to pronounce it. It should have been forgotten, thrown away into the oblivion of the unknown, not to be remembered again. But somehow, you worked to even pronounce his name. "Montag...?" You hated this. You sounded like a child who missed their own brothers.

You will admit, he had always find a way to make you feel like you were always little princess. You hated that you were vulnerable without him. That you were gullible to make him do everything for you. There was conflict in his eyes for a mere second, when he suddenly shook his head and straighten his posture.

"What are you talking about? I am Count Lucio," he stated with pride. "I am not this... This Montag person you are addressing." So this means... He abandoned his old identity for a new, and glorifying one? Selfish Montag as always. You narrowed your eyes at him, before wordlessly biting your thumb at him. The soldiers gasped in shock, while 'Lucio' turned red in anger. "I was polite and this is how you repay me?" He charges at you with his arm, but you managed to avoid his attack by gracefully stepping aside as he charges at you in an animalistic manner.

"You haven't changed one bit, Monty," you mocked, finally making your attack by using a stray stick to smack him across the abdomen and avoiding him as he attempted to severe your head with his lethal prosthetic weapon. "Our little Monty hasn't grew up yet. You're still an idiotic coward who picks on the weaker, smaller prey," you will admit, he was still strong. Stronger than you were. But you were more intelligent.

No one dared to intervene. This was a fight. A personal one. Only between you and your long, lost brother. The soldiers couldn't really tell, but all they know that they were unable to help. As he madly slashed his prosthetic arm at you, while you would just gracefully step aside and watch him struggle to even lay a finger at you. His fingers were mere inches away from your face when you suddenly went down on your feet and swiped him off the ground.

Soon, you had the upper hand and had his arms pinned behind him as you pressed his face on the icy grounds. He was squirming as you pressed him on the snowy path. "I am giving you a chance because I am feeling particularly generous today. Return to the south again, I dare you, Lucio, you will not see daylight once again." You shoved yourself off him, standing on your feet. You glanced up to the astonished/terrified soldiers. With narrowed eyes, they can already tell that you wanted them gone. "Now, begone."

Mother should have ended you when she had the chance.

He growled as he got on his feet, glaring at you. "You—," he accusingly points at you. "—You will pay for what you have done. Men!" With flourish, he took his cape and turn his back, his soldiers following. One of them glances at you... The soldier whom you saved. He reluctantly glances at Lucio, then at you. He gives you a thankful smile, and waves. You smiled sweetly at him, as if nothing happen, as you merrily waved at him. He seems shocked at first, but gave you smile once more before he faced forward.

You wished that he shouldn't have thirst for power. You wished that he wasn't acting this way. If he didn't made deals from shady creatures, if he were patient, he should have gone in a different path. He would have still be your parents' son. He still would have been the heir of the tribe. He still would have been your brother.
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"Monty! Monty!" A small, little girl tugged on her brother's sleeve. "There's a silk beetle in my tent! Please get rid of it!" Montag Morgason looked down to his little sister, Y/N Morgasdottir. Her flushed, red cheeks adorably puffed as she fearfully and desperately called Montag.

"Fear not, dear princess!" He stood with pride, taking a stick and posing gloriously . "I shall protect you with all my life! Show me where the danger is!"

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You found yourself feeling solemn after that encounter. Conscience soon overcame your senses as you could have treated him differently. Well, he did deserved to be knocked off his high pedestal when he started mistreating that soldier. You feel regret, yet you didn't do anything. Did you perhaps wished that he stayed instead? That he didn't chose power over family?

Seated under the tree, you curled into a fetal position as you hid your face behind your knees. As you feel the gust of occasional wind gust over you, one particular gust was too strong.

"Isn't it pass your curfew? I assigned guarding duties to Gamor," you remained silent, as Morga stood behind you. With a muted sigh, you nodded. The flickers of the fire flies were hypnotic as you watched them fly in the air.

"I'll be going back. I just needed air," you falsely spoke. Morga narrows her eyes at you.

"Deceit will get you nowhere, Y/N. It is either you tell me or it shall bother you for eternity." Morga spoke, solemn, yet concerned. You shook your head, burying your face in the depths of your knees. She sat beside you. "I sensed him, too. But if he dares to crawl back to the South, I will make sure that he dies for good."

"Well, he was dressed in one of those frilly clothes and looked like a fool than a warrior. But under those riches and gold, he was still the coward I know. He changed his identity as well." You muttered in earshot. "He was still strong, Mother. Stronger than I am. But he has grown rusty. I defeated him and when he returns again... I'll let him die in your hands."

Morga scowls at you. You mutely coughed as she gave you one of those looks of her once again. It was the twenty fifth time this day. Heck, she always gave you those looks when she disapproves your actions but you still have never gotten used to it. You were still terrified of that facial expression of hers.

"Look at you," she gestures your figure. You perked up from your knees, confused. You knew that you were wearing practical clothing for battle even if there were no battles. Your staff was with you for defending yourself in case of battles that are needed to be fought.  "How will you fight if your hair blocks your vision?" She clicked her tongue and stood up. She began to braid your hair to prevent it from blocking your vision, lecturing you how it is important. She began to braid your hair. You always felt enthusiastic and calm whenever Morga started to braid your hair. It was a way of showing that she cares about your well-being. And she braids well, too. Although, looks does not matter in terms of battle. You must be practical, you must be bold.

"I've seen you fight, Y/N. You fought well, but your docile demeanor after the battle can be unacceptable. You must not show any signs of softness to your enemies, nor your allies. You must let them know how they will thrive for survival. If you keep intervening, they will keep depending on you." She lecture, ending the braid and tucking it behind your ear. "I don't even know why I bothered having a second child." You frowned. You were always aware of that. She always complains about how you were always dependent.

"But I am thankful I did," were you hearing things? Certainly yes, that's what ears were for, but did you heard what you bought you heard? Absolutely. Your chest filled with warmth when she said that. As if you can just jump off a cliff right now and you won't even feel a thing with all the euphoria you were feeling. You smiled.

"I will never disappoint you, Mother." you sincerely vowed.

"I know you won't,"