AN: Fic born because I'm tired of ZnT's crossover and the typical, make Louise badass and stories she likes girls or something or whatever. Variety's sake.

He couldn't understand what his father was thinking, nor did he know what to expect out of this foolish waste of time. Joseph de Gallia, eldest son, and heir to the Gallia's throne looked up and stared at the older man in the room. It was not the king's stern eyes that met his, but his father. His blue royal hair fell to his shoulder and peppered with silver strands, the crown missing. Age has not been kind on the old man, he seemed to stoop and the clothes that once fit so well seemed to be a bit bigger. He had lost some weight.

"Joseph, begin the ritual," his father said gently, gesturing the holy marks drawn on the marble floor with offering placed to the gods and Founder for luck.

"We know how this would end," Joseph drawled. "It would end with nothing. Let Charles do it first."

His younger brother said nothing, as ever polite as his eyes remained cool as he sat against the wall of the room. "Brother, if father believes in you, then at least try."

"Nothing has come out of any efforts I've put." Joseph rolled his eyes. "Why do I bother?"

"Because laziness is unfitting for the Crown Prince," his younger brother chided.

Joseph only hummed whimsically. "I could be drinking wine right now, I could be anywhere... reading books."

Charles did not respond. No petty snide or mutter of wasting time skulking in the city instead of the palace. The young man was unresponsive as ice, unfeeling where others had shown disdain.

"Joseph." His father sighed. "We are not going anywhere until you complete the ritual."

Like the gods favored the Crown if what he had was truly a curse. Joseph huffed and slowly pulled out his wand from his wrist, unused to having it in his hand when he fumbled and let it clatter to the ground. He waited for the sigh of annoyance, the reproving mutter that was common from his mentors and tutors. None came. The men of Gallia wore many faces, many masks, who were they truly? Charles the perfect, polite and kind, gentle and easy, he spoke and made people happy. But he never once showed his fury or cried like when he was a boy. His father shown fury like a cold gale, but he was unreadable as the judgmental portraits of the previous monarchs.

Joseph bent down, picking up his wooden wand then swished it like in practice. He exhaled deeply then pressed his hand and wand to his chest, pointing the stick upward.

"Pentagon of the Five Element," he began the prayer half-heartedly.

"With emotion, Joseph," his father cut in.

More silence between the men. His fist tightened around his wand, shaking before he unclenched the wood.

"Pentagon of the Five Element!" he said again, more fervently. "I, Joseph de Gallia... beseech you?" He stopped. "Beg you?"

"Joseph," his father finally sighed. "I told you to write down your prayer, didn't I?"

There was no point in this. Joseph just shook his head.

"I'm not expecting a sermon, just a simple verse to the gods," his father said. "Repeat after me. Oh Sacred Spirit, my guardian dear. To whom Founder's love commits me here. Ever this day, be at my side. To light and guard, rule and guide."

"That's a children prayer," Joseph said accusingly.

"Simplest ones are the easiest," the King of Gallia said with a slight mirth in his tone. "Now do it, Joseph."

Let's just get this over with. Joseph glared at the ritual and whipped his wand again. "Oh Sacred Spirit," he began, drawing the circle and he felt the deep tug of his Willpower pouring. "My guardian dear. To whom Founder's love commits me here." He started one point of the five-point star. "Ever this day, be at my side." Third point of the star drawn in the air. "To light and guard, rule and guide. Answer to my guidance!"

He was sure his brother and father had whipped up a barrier of wind spell since the explosion came as expected, smashing the glass windows and sending object smashing against the walls. Well, so much for prayers being answered. Joseph thought drily as he got up, coughing then noticed he was unharmed. He frowned at this then immediately spun to see his father against the wall, covered with slight dust and broken pieces of ornate decors, he was slightly bleeding from a bit of mirror shard cutting his head.

"Father!" he cried out and rushed over to him. He should have protected himself first instead of him. "Charles! Call-"

The king grunted and looked up, quickly snapping his hand up. "Finish the ritual, Joseph," he said quickly. "I'll be fine."

"But..."

"Now!"

Joseph glared at that then reluctantly turned around but froze. Charles groaned from the ground and slowly he picked himself up from the center of the clearing. He blinked and looked around at clear circle of destruction he stood in the middle of then slowly he raised his head and stared at his brother, opening and closing his mouth. "What."

"What..." Joseph echoed.

The king frowned at this before he slightly bent sideway against the wall, looking over Joseph's legs. His face screwed and he blinked rapidly. "What?"

For the first time ever, the men of Gallia stood gaping like fish out of water.

It was obvious to his eyes but the court's on which son his father truly favored. It was always Joseph he would console first, Joseph who would be first at his study. Not because he was the eldest. For the days his brother would slouch or would neglect his duty, the days where Joseph would not even respond properly, his father would have a quick word with him to find out what was wrong. Each time, Joseph would walk out with his back straighter and less moody, at ease with himself more, even slightly confident or happier, if not contemplative on whatever private exchange they had.

His father gave them gift equally, but he paid more details to Joseph's compared to his. The toy boat for one that he was envious his brother had and secretly delighted in sinking when they had raced their toys across the lake. As usual between siblings, they often competed and Charles always won. In every game, Charles would beat him in wit, skill, and magic but unlike his brother, he had to work hard to beat him. His older brother though oblivious at how talented he was without even working a single bit, and he had the gall to wallow on his lost after each match.

And it was often why his father paid extra attention to his unmotivated elder son. Joseph could be better if he tried.

But he never did, always saying, "Why do I bother? No effort would come out of it."

At times, his older brother infuriated him. He couldn't understand why his brother was like that, couldn't understand why his spells always end with failure. How could he mess up something so simple? Was it the wording, was it the way he flicked his wand, was it how he handled himself? Regardless, it always ended with explosion no matter how much Joseph tried.

"Is it a sickness, father?" What kind of disease that could do that? That could take away a mage's pride, what could take the gods' blessing from the nobles?

"No, Charles. If it is, it's one that hasn't be heard or recorded..."

He remembered how others saw his brother that differed from his father. The incompetent son. The one without proper magic or element. He had no runic name to call himself after. Only a pile of wasted talents that he let it rot in his wallowing. It was hard to imagine that he was of royalty, sharing the lineage of Brimir that could do wonders with magic, surrounded with those who were less than them and could do more than him when he had none of those blessings himself.

His brother was a failure, simple as that. But still, their father supported him, and today was just another day for Joseph.

Compared to other spells where the mage relied on their skills, knowledge, and element, the Familiar Ritual only relied on the mage's heart and mind. Heaven and fate do the rest. There was no way his brother could screw this one up as this was the only spell that could be counted as a direct answer from the Founder and the gods. Except he did... right?

Joseph stood in front of him awkwardly, his face sharing the same confusion. They inched their face forward slowly, both siblings slightly hesitated but managed to get their noses almost slightly touching until he felt Joseph's warm breath against his skin. Charles finally winced and moved back.

"This has to be a mistake, father," Charles said loudly.

"If it's a mistake, then no harm done," their father said after having few curt words with the servants and guards that came running. "Just finish the ritual."

The usual uninterested tone their father would have when it came to awkward trivial moments like these contrasted sharply at the glare he was giving them. He couldn't believe he was thinking of it this way, but their father was pretty damn interested in seeing two of his sons kissing in front of him.

"Familiars are meant to be animal and beast," Charles complained. Creatures that were less than them, creatures that obviously meant to serve their summoner. Not prince!

"Charles." Their father sighed in irritation. "Only those that are willing and destined are summoned. No history or records of any beast have refused the mage that summoned them. Not even those that could have easily crushed their master. This is our only proof that the gods are watching and have chosen well enough."

"Even when swamp toads are royal familiars?" Joseph muttered softly to himself. "Very regal and majestic, fitting for royalty."

Charles once laughed as he knew the tale of their distant ancestor Cassandra who had a pet slimy toad as a familiar. How great the familiar showed how well the gods favored the mage, and as royalty, it should be expected to have the best. But history has shown the gods didn't care when it came to that and it was best not to encourage the ill gossips the public liked to use and criticize without effort.

"As I was saying," their father glared a bit. "You would not be standing there." Charles looked down at the center of the five-pointed star unmarked by the damages. "Unless you are not willing to stand by your brother as his companion."

Joseph muttered about honeyed words but kept to himself.

"Are you, as his brother, not a companion to him already?" his father went on.

"But they are meant to serve their summoners!"

"And as the second prince, do you not serve the crown and in extension your brother, the crown prince?" Except no one knew if Joseph would really be king as the future was not set in stone. Crowns has passed down into the younger royalty hands before.

He hesitated and his older brother scratched the side of his arm awkwardly.

"Father," Joseph began. "We know that's hogwash."

"Not now, Joseph!"

The two young men winced as their father furiously glared at them, his forehead still slightly bleeding from the chipped mirror from earlier. Their father eyed Charles critically, and for the first time, he was calling out what his duties were and where his loyalty laid. Something he would only do to Joseph when he needed to reprimand him. Charles gulped and looked at his brother in the eyes. Solemnly, he shut them, sighing then bowed forward, only to smack his head against his brother's lips due how close they were.

"Ow, Charles!" Joseph exclaimed, taking few steps back and clutching his mouth where his teeth hurt.

Charles looked up, opening his mouth to apologize but felt a blinding intense pain scratched onto his forehead and into his mind. He screamed and pretty much blacked out onto the floor.

He looked down at the rippling reflection of the lake, pale faded scars inscribed on his head.

"What does it say?" Charles asked quietly as they sat on the shores of their childhood lake as they often did when they took rides in the forest outside Versailles.

"I don't know." Joseph shrugged, chucking a pebble into the water, letting it skip across the water surface. "I asked father and he wouldn't say."

The two said nothing at each other, their horses whickered in the background.

"Did you really wanted to be..." Joseph struggled. "My companion?" he blurted.

"When you word it that way," Charles said drily as he leaned his chin onto his knees.

"Well, it's better than saying familiar," he pointed back. "I get it, Charles. Who would want to serve under an incompetent king," he said snidely more to himself.

He grimaced at that. Joseph only put himself in more awkward position when he did that, why couldn't he understand that? He wasn't sure how his father did it, knowing how to say the right word to get his brother back to his usual self.

"Father believes in you," Charles said quietly. "He always does."

"Do you?"

...No. "Yes," he said the word easily. "Of course, I do."

Joseph turned and looked at him, his blue eyes uncanny and unreadable. It was disturbing how similar his expression was to that of their father when it came to reading him. How could he recover himself before his older brother, when he saw his hesitation in the room. Even now, he saw through him. Was he disappointed? Disgusted? Angry? Joseph started to snicker and laugh, curling up to his belly.

Charles stared at him with wide eyes, was this another of his spontaneous mood swing? "W-why are you laughing?" he asked.

"I-it's your face." Joseph giggled, pointing between his laughter. "It's the look on your face. You never made that face before."

He frowned at his brother. "I don't know what you are talking about," he muttered sourly, his face slightly burning.

"You are always so stiff and polite." His brother shoved him hard enough that he had to slam his palm onto the pebbled shores to stop him from falling.

"S-stop that!" Charles scolded.

His brother just laughed. Charles frowned at that and shoved his brother back. Joseph only laughed harder and he fumed from his spot, glaring as he sat. He took a pebble from the ground and flicked his wrist. The stone skipping twelve times before plopping.

"You beat me in everything," Joseph said at that, sighing after a bit of laugh.

The two brothers sat there, watching the ripples in the lake leading to the distant forest and mountains that crossed to Romalia.

"Not everything," Charles conceded. "Remember sword practice? You beat me easily."

"That was in a duel with rules. Fighting like a commoner isn't useful, Charles. With wind magic, you would have easily beaten me." Joseph hung his head. "To tell you the truth, I didn't want to come today. I had planned to skip father's request," he told him.

"Then why didn't you?"

"To see you succeed like a brother should," he said flatly. "I'm curious on what you would summon. Was it wrong of me?"

"No." He could say the same with their father's expectations on him and what he saw in Joseph. "Do you think father knew this would happen today?" he asked.

"That you would be summoned." Joseph looked and frowned. "Is there anyone in the world that could predict what kind of familiar a mage would summon?"

Charles sat there, matching his brother's look. "Did father have a familiar of his own?"

Summoning familiars weren't a thing nobles ever do anymore unless one was prestige and could afford to take care an exotic creature. The less said about the history of royalties and their familiars, the better.

"I don't think so. But if he did, I bet is that black Gallian tiger he has for a rug in the bedroom."

"You think father would skin a sacred, royal familiar like that?" Charles stared at his brother.

Joseph shrugged then stood up with the pebbles crunching under. "We should head back," he said, looking at the evening sky.

"What about this?" He pointed at his forehead.

"Maybe hats are going to be in fashion again." Joseph leaned back critically. "How about cutting your hair like the page's boy? It would cover the runes."

Charles glared.

"No? Okay." His brother laughed then clapped his hand together suddenly. "You haven't summoned your familiar!" he said then bizarrely he spun around and ran off.

"Joseph!" he called out at his running brother. "Where are you going?"

"Setting up the summoning circle!"

"What... w-why?"

"Because you haven-"

"No, I mean why here! Now!"

He carried no offerings to the gods, and to summon in a forest with the dirt and dead leaves on the ground, unpurified ground. He was sure this was going to offend someone.

"Joseph, I don't think this is a good idea," he said to his brother as the young man set down white pebbles meticulously, making the circle and the pentagram.

"Why not?" Joseph looked up, grinning.

"Because!" Charles began. "Because, it's treating a divine ritual with less than respect. And the circle needs to be bigger." He pointed out, and it was the wrong time of day.

"Then get some," his brother pointed.

Knowing his brother wasn't going to be dissuaded when he got his head into it, Charles sighed and went back to the stony shores, picking up the handful of pebbles. The two brothers set to task and after half an hour, they had a circle and star.

"Now do it," his brother said.

"You can't rush this," Charles snapped, feeling nervous with his wand out.

"C'mon, Charles. If we're late, we're going to miss out dinner. And you know how father can be when that happens."

Sometimes, Joseph made him want to scream out in frustration. He had spent hours writing his prayer, only to not use it?

"Grant me, Founder, a steady hand and watchful eye," Charles began. "That no one shall be hurt as I pass by. Shelter those, who bear my company, from misfortune and calamity. Oh Sacred Familiar, heed my summoning, and answer my call!"

A loud swept of wind exploded, tugging the strands of their hair and clothes, and roaring into their ears before it died down. Charles raised his arm and blinked the dust away from his eyes rapidly. He raised his head and slightly froze. Joseph inched closer to his side as they both stared at the blue scales that fitted royal blue of Gallia and the matching fierce slitted eyes.

"Iruku?" it chirped.

Joseph laughed slightly at his side. "It talks."

Today was a very bad day for Charles Harold de'Orleans. Not only he had to deal with a splitting headache for the whole day after blacking out at the summoning, now he had to deal with a clingy talking dragon... who could shapeshift, that said everything he needed to know that it was some kind of Firstborn race.

"You can't come inside!" Charles hissed at the sixteen-year-old girl who shared the same royal blue hair as him and had wrapped her arms around his waist tightly in a crushing hug from behind.

Joseph continually stood beside him, grinning. "Oh, why not, Charles?"

"Because!" She's naked! How was he going to explain this to their father?

"Iruku don't want to sleep outside!" she wailed like a ten-year-old child, her voice muffled when she pressed her face onto his back. Charles grunted and tugged, trying to drag both himself and the dragon out of the stable, but it felt like she weighed a ton.

"She's your dragon," Joseph said. "You've got to take care of your familiar."

"Joseph, please. I beg you," he slightly sobbed trying to pull away from the girl with the strength of a dragon.

If she was a dragon why was she scared sleeping outside? Nothing was scarier than a dragon, right? His brother just laughed, it seemed he enjoyed when his younger brother suffered.

"She's a kid," Joseph stated critically. "A baby dragon."

"She doesn't look like one!"

"Can you breathe fire?" His older brother asked the girl.

She made a whining sound and shook her head, rubbing her face on her brother's back.

"A defenseless, baby dragon."

"Where would she sleep?!"

"Where familiars do? In their master's bedroom."

Charles gave an ugly glare at his grinning brother.

"It doesn't matter anyway. The knights brought father here," Joseph stated with a purse.

"What?" He paled and heard the marching of armor and brisk footsteps.

"A dragon did fly towards the castle with impossible speed a mage couldn't beat, Charles. That would sure give enough heart attack for the guards."

"And would have shot her down if one of the spotter didn't note a rune on her claw," their father sharp tone cut in when he entered the stable.

The boys flinched as they stood beneath their father stern gaze, Charles eternally grimacing at being caught with a naked sixteen-year-old girl hugging him tightly from behind his back.

"What part of not grabbing attention you two don't understand." Their father shook his head.

AN: I feel like I haven't written Joseph and Charles well. I mean beside Charles being a perfect prick and pretty much hides his emotion, only breaking down when his father favored over him, he appears only as a nice cool guy. Joseph himself appears to be a bitter spirit that envies others for how they could express themselves perfectly. I don't know when this is in the timeline, nor do I know when Joseph summoned Sheffield. Probably after he took the throne. But this is an AU.

Just throwing this out there.