A/N: Title & quote are from William Ernest Henley's poem of the same name. (This ficlet also wasn't on the project list - I found it stuffed away in the depths of my computer. Yes, I'll be heading off to work on those, uh, 40 or so fic ideas now...)
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
His arguments with Gwendal were laced with stinging barbs. Both stoic men by nature, the rare fights between Conrart and his elder brother were the exact opposite of those he had with Wolfram. There was no passionate anger here – no pushing, or shoving, or slapping away. Instead, there was cold steel and grudging respect. There was cruel sarcasm from Gwendal, and infuriatingly insincere smiles from Conrart. This time was no different.
Gwendal had not been able to make him feel like a child since his first taste of battle. They were equals now, and men. There was no room for reminiscing over childhood roughhousing and pranks. It was a battle of wills, where the first to succumb to an ungainly display of emotion would be quickly defeated. It was a liar's battle, a politician's battle. Conrart was first to draw his blade.
"You will not turn him into your puppet."
"And who would stop me? You? Shin Makoku's fate rests in his hands. I cannot allow him to ruin the nation with his incompetence."
There was, Conrart admitted to himself, ample reason for his brother's distrust of kings and regents, tainted as his opinions were from serving under war-hungry Stoffel. But this time Conrart knew things would be different. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.
"That is pure conjecture, Gwendal. He has not yet done anything so dire as to be worthy of your misplaced contempt."
Gwendal gave a wry shake of his head. "Is there a reason why you have decided to throw away all sense of caution and reason, and completely bind yourself to that outsider? This is not the Conrart that I know. He is not a fool boy, unlike our supposed Maou Heika."
"With all due respect, I have faith in Yuuri. He is our Maou, and I would never mistake his soul for another."
"Faith!" Gwendal snorted, "Don't make me laugh. You are not a man of faith."
"Are you insinuating something?"
"Yes, I am. I am insinuating that you are the one most pleased to have someone of his…particular heritage in a position of power. Is he not to become your puppet? To push your political agenda?"
"While I cannot say I am not pleased to serve someone who understands the plight of those who share my…particular heritage, racial equality would mean nothing if Shin Makoku were destroyed. I would never turn my back on my duty in such a way, as you know full well."
Gwendal's eyes narrowed as he took in his brother's determination. There was a long pause before Gwendal relented and said, "Fine. I won't try to control him unless his rule proves to be disastrous. However, if his decisions are harmful to our people, I will not hesitate to step in."
"Of course. Thank you, Gwendal."
Gwendal merely grunted in reply as Conrart bowed and left his office. He lifted his hands to massage his temples. It had been a long time since Conrart had caused him such trouble. He cursed himself for not remembering that he had two stubborn, willful younger brothers, though one was much more adept at hiding it than the other. A massive headache was coming on, and the new Maou, with both of his stubborn, willful younger brothers attached to his side, was at the center of it all. Gwendal shoved back the urge to bang his head on his desk and went back to work with an exasperated sigh.
Meanwhile, Conrart strode outside, much more at ease. He had once nearly given in to the temptation to steal Yuuri away and raise the child on his own, doing exactly what Gwendal had accused him of wanting to do now – turn Yuuri into his pawn. Conrart knew he was capable of such evil, but he had resisted then and would not fall prey to such thoughts now or ever again. He had said he would make sure Yuuri was free to grow on his own. He would keep that promise, no matter the cost.