A/N: This story takes place in a future where Finral and Langris actually get along (Let's hope we make it there one day!). It is also my first attempt at writing in Langris's perspective so I'm a little nervous. I am truthfully a bit of a Langris-sympathizer. While it does not in any way excuse his actions in the canon, particularly towards his brother, Langris also suffered at House Vaude and needs some serious emotional healing. I hope he finds it someday and rebuilds his relationship with his brother! Speaking of Finral, he is married in this story, but it doesn't specify to whom because (1) the story isn't about that and (2) I honestly feel like Finral Roulacase's love life is a "Choose Your Own Adventure" and I'm not touching it with a 10 foot pole, thank you very much lol so please feel free to fill that bit in as you see fit! Rating and Spoilers for Langris and Finral's childhood trauma: both implied and depicted in a flashback. Cross posted to AO3. Thanks for reading!

Breaking the Cycle

"Langris!" greeted Finral with a wave as he popped into the study through a portal in the wall.

Langris huffed but didn't look up from his report. "Just because you can portal in here any time you want doesn't mean that you should."

"Sorry," answered his brother sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "I tried knocking on the front door, but no one answered."

Langris sighed. He vaguely remembered hearing a faint pounding sound earlier but had been too focused on his paperwork to pay too much attention to it. He blinked. "What do you want?" he huffed, almost certain he would regret asking. "I'm busy," he added for good measure.

"I really need to talk to you," said Finral hurriedly. "It's important. You see back at home…"

"Finral," Langris interrupted. "I don't have time to deal with your marriage problems or…whatever it is, right now."

"You think I'm having marriage problems?" Finral gasped genuinely concerned and hurt as he stared back at Langris with wide, sad eyes like some kind of wounded puppy.

"How should I know? It's none of my business," huffed Langris instantly regretting bringing it up.

"Well…why would you say that? Do you think that things aren't okay? Because—"

"Can this wait? I don't have time for this!" he snapped irritably before taking a deep breath to collect himself. He shook his head and continued more calmly, "Look, this report is due tomorrow so if this isn't an emergency…"

"It's only going to take ten minutes," Finral insisted. Langris rolled his eyes, and Finral held out his hand correcting, "Five minutes." Langris sighed, and his eyes narrowed. The last time Finral had insisted something was only going to take five minutes, Langris had ended up stranded in Nean on a day-long shopping excursion. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

"Narah's magic presented today—or at least this was the first time she used it," Finral continued as if he was taking Langris' silence as permission.

"That's great, Finral," he answered returning to his report with a shake of his head. Not that he was trying to be dismissive of his niece presenting her powers, but he had a lot on his plate right now and his brother clearly couldn't prioritize. "But that's not an emergency."

"She made a giant hole in the wall."

Langris stopped writing and looked up from his paper. "What?"

"Yeah…" Finral cleared his throat and chuckled lightly. "Broke all the way through brick to the outside. It kind of reminded me of when you first used your powers. You completely destroyed that gazebo, remember?"

Langris' chest tightened, but he swallowed and answered curtly, "I remember."

"I wasn't expecting her to have offensive spatial magic like you—or for it to be that powerful already. Once the shock wore off, I called some of my friends to help patch up the wall before it gets dark, but…it really is something! You should come see."

"Maybe later," answered Langris returning to his report. He supposed Finral's daughter presenting a powerful offensive spatial magic was newsworthy and the gaping hole in the wall was a pressing issue but as it was being attended to, this wasn't Langris' emergency.

"Are you sure you couldn't come for just five minutes?" asked his brother. He was fidgety—almost nervous. Langris blinked at him but shook his head.

"I don't have to see the wall to believe you," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll admit it's unexpected but given the strong link in magic ability between family members, it's not completely unheard of."

"That's not…" Finral began but stopped abruptly. "Um…well…I didn't just want you to see the wall…"

"I'm sure your friends can handle patching it up without me," he answered picking up his pen again. "I don't have time for…"

"Langris, she's scared!" his brother cut him off empathically gesturing with his hands.

"Who?"

"Narah. After she saw what she did to our house, she started to cry, and she hasn't stopped crying since. I've tried everything but nothing I say helps! She's terrified," he explained with a concerned worry and almost desperation in his voice. "I thought…you might be able to get through to her."

Putting down his pen, Langris turned to his brother, but he insisted, "I'm not sure I can say anything that you haven't already." He didn't feel he needed to add that he wasn't very good with children and his callous and curt demeanor was particularly ill-suited for these kinds of situations.

"Langris, I have no idea what using offensive spatial magic is like. I spent most of my life afraid of it, and I couldn't even wield it. To have something so destructive just burst out of you like that—that has to be terrifying…" As his brother's voice trailed, Langris stared down at his report. Something twisted deep in his stomach, but he pushed it away.

"Fine," he conceded. "I'll talk to her."

As Langris exited the portal into Finral's living room, he almost gasped but caught himself. Finral was not exaggerating—if anything, he was downplaying the level of destruction. It wasn't just a hole in the wall; it was as if the entire wall itself had been removed. Out of the corner of his eyes, Langris could see that Asta, Magna, and Luck were hard at work fixing the brickwork from the outside, but they had barely even made a dent in it. It was hard to believe a child so young who had never even used her magic before was capable of something like this. If Langris was being honest, it was actually kind of impressive.

"Henry's supposed to be coming over later to help, too," said Finral. His tone was cautiously optimistic despite the concern in his face. "We're not sure if he'll be able to do anything since this isn't his house, but with his recombination magic, it's worth a try, right?"

Langris had always been a bad liar and knew now was not the time to be blunt with his brother who was juggling both a crying child and crumbling house so he refrained from saying anything as Finral led him up a nearby staircase. The wooden planks creaked with every step they took up to the second floor, and when they reached the landing, Finral turned back to Langris.

"She's been hiding in her room since this morning," he said before knocking on a door in the hallway that was decorated with colorful paper flowers. The corners of Langris' mouth twitched just slightly. His niece had given him some matching flowers about a month ago, and though he probably wouldn't admit it—at least not to Finral, they were still in the top drawer of his desk.

"Narah? Narah, sweetheart, are you in there?" No answer. "Narah, your Uncle Langris is here to see you. Can we come in?" Again, no answer. Finral chuckled lightly and turned to Langris before knocking on the door again. "We're going to come in, okay? Narah—?" Finral opened the door into his daughter's room, and they walked inside.

Langris didn't spend a lot of time with children, but he supposed it looked as you'd expect the room of a typical six-year-old girl to look—bright and colorful with lots of drawings, crafts, dolls, and toys. There was even a small table and chairs with a lily-patterned tea set that he knew was from Finnes. The only thing missing was the little girl who lived here.

"Narah? Narah?" called Finral. After waiting for a few moments, he shook his head. "She was up here when I left. Maybe she went downstairs? I'll go check. I'll be right back…" he said before portal-ing away.

Sighing, Langris gave the room another once-over and picked up a somewhat-frightening looking doll, he assumed must be from Gordon, which had fallen or been left on the floor. As he placed it on one of the chairs, he caught sight of the corner of a quilt on the ground. It was beautifully and intricately embroidered with flowers—definitely Vanessa's work. He took a few steps towards it, watching it rustling before it completely disappeared under the bed-skirt.

"You can come out now. It's just me," said Langris in an even, gentle voice. He didn't believe in talking down to children, but he didn't want to sound harsh either.

"How did you know I was hiding?" asked a quiet voice from under the bed.

Langris sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of a perfectly laid out tea setting. "I saw your quilt." It seemed like the easiest answer. "Also, your dad always used to hide under the bed when we were growing up."

The bed-skirt rustled, but his niece didn't come out from her hiding place. "Really?" asked Narah curiously. "From monsters?"

Something twisted in Langris' chest, and he looked away even though he knew his niece couldn't see him. "You could say that…" He paused. "He was also afraid of thunderstorms."

"I'm afraid of thunderstorms," she admitted shyly.

"It's sunny right now," said Langris matter-of-factly, glancing out the window. "And there are no monsters."

"I…I'm not hiding because of thunderstorms…or monsters…" Narah sighed. "Did you see the hole in the wall?"

"Yes," he answered. "That's some really powerful magic you have there."

His observation was met with silence followed by an apologetic, "I didn't mean to…We were just sitting down for breakfast, and there was a mouse, and Dad screamed. It was scary. I just wanted it to go away."

Langris resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the thought of Finral screaming about a mouse. No wonder his daughter was frightened.

"Everyone was really scared when I broke the wall," Narah continued. "I don't know what happened…" She paused. "Dad says I have magic like you."

Langris nodded even though he realized afterward that his niece couldn't see him. "That's right. It's offensive spatial magic. Your dad was the first person in the history of our family not to have it. It must've just skipped a generation to be passed down to you," Langris replied in a somewhat curt, practical way, but his face softened at the sound of quiet crying noises coming from under the bed. "Narah?"

"I don't want it. It's so scary," she cried in a mix of a sob and a hiccup—a truly pitiful sound that would've broken anyone's heart—even Langris'. Something twinged deep inside him at her words, and his chest constricted.

"It's…" he began, but he had to admit he didn't know what to say. "It's okay to be scared," he said stiffly, awkwardly. The words felt unnatural, and Langris knew it sounded pretty pathetic. Besides, he was sure Finral had probably said the same thing a hundred times, and it hadn't worked. Why did his brother think it was a good idea to leave this to him? He glanced over at the open door hoping Finral would come back, but he didn't see him in the doorway or out in the hall.

Langris was mentally cursing his brother for leaving him to handle this when the quiet voice of his niece pulled him out of his thoughts. "Were you scared?"

"What?" asked Langris genuinely taken aback by her question.

"Were you scared, Uncle Langris?" she repeated. "When you got your magic?"

Langris swallowed hard, and his chest grew tight as if all the air was being squeezed out of him. It was not a time he ever liked to think about, let alone talk about. But even now, after all this time, he could call it to mind as vividly as if he was still there…


"What was that, you pathetic weakling? Disgraceful."

Langris flinched even though he knew his father's harsh words weren't directed at him…at least not yet.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Finral sniffled staring at the ground as the tiny spatial portal he had made flickered in front of him. "I'm trying…"

"Stop your sniveling apologies," snapped their father—hard lines forming on his face and a cold, stony expression in his eyes that was so threatening Langris could barely bring himself to look at him.

"The Noble House of Vaude has produced the premiere spatial mages of the Clover Kingdom for centuries," their father continued, towering over Finral intimidatingly and glaring at him with a look that lingered ominously like a heavy, dark cloud before a thunderstorm. Langris swallowed hard and something twisted in his stomach. "This worthless excuse for magic is an embarrassment to this family."

Turning away abruptly with a sharp wince, Langris shut his eyes. He swallowed hard as he felt his mother's hand on his shoulder. When he turned to look at her, her face said what it always did: you have to do better. He knew this—had known it ever since Finral had presented with a magic power that only brought their parents shame, frustration, and disappointment—the only problem was he didn't know if he could. He stayed awake at night hiding under the covers and trying to make the type of portals that his parents wanted but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't use magic of any kind. He wasn't sure which would be worse: having magic like Finral's or having no magic at all. He didn't want to find out.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" Finral apologized again. His shoulders were trembling as his wavering voice grew softer, smaller. Langris' hands began to shake as he watched the tears well up in his brother's eyes. "I…I just don't want to hurt anybody…"

"Useless coward! You're a disgrace to this House," bellowed their father. He huffed. "The humiliation—one son with such worthless magic and another who hasn't shown any ability at all…" Feeling his father's attention falling on him, Langris shuddered and recoiled. His insides were twisting, and he was torn between desperately wanting to run away and hide and being unable to move.

"Langris is still very young," intervened his mother. "I'm sure he'll present with a very powerful magic any day now." Langris stared down at the ground under the weight of his mother's tightened grip and pointed stare which warned louder than any words: you had better.

Langris' toes curled up tightly in his shoes. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Finral turned to look at him with teary eyes, but he tried to smile at him slightly. "Let me try again…" he said wiping his eyes and taking a step nearer to Langris, stepping in between him and their parents, before trying to make another portal. It shined and shimmered in front of him before flickering and disintegrating. Langris had always thought it was remarkable that his brother could make something like that, when all Langris could ever do was stare at his empty hands desperately willing the appearance of portals that never came. Their parents, however, were always unimpressed.

"Pathetic," scoffed their mother.

Their father frowned irately before shaking his head. "They're getting even worse. Utterly worthless. You don't deserve to call yourself a Vaude."

Finral hunched over—seemingly curling into himself, and his eyes welled with tears again as he choked out a barely audible apology. "I'm sorry…"

"You incompetent good-for-nothing!" Their father glared at him. "And now you're crying?" he scoffed in incredulous disdain at the tears that streamed down Finral's cheeks. "As if it isn't your fault that you're wielding such ineffectual magic, you blubbering idiot."

Finral sniffled and tried to wipe his eyes apologizing profusely, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry…I'm trying…I just can't—" Whack. Langris flinched at the horrible slapping sound of his father's hand striking Finral's face and his brother's painful whimpering.

"I told you to stop your whining and excuses!" their father thundered. Langris clinched his trembling hands into fists. His chest felt tight and heavy. Stop it. Make it stop. He desperately pleaded internally to someone…anyone…as tears poured down Finral's face and he frantically and hopelessly tried to wipe them away as their father raised his hand again.

Langris' heart beat faster and faster and his stomach warped and coiled into knots—a weight building up inside him too heavy for him to bear. His knees buckled, and he un-clinched his fists. Stop it. Stop! St…

Crash. Boom. Thud. A bright burst of blue collided with the nearby gazebo sending pieces of wooden debris flying. The world seemed to stop as the roof caved in and the structure collapsed on itself.

"Woah…" whispered Finral with wide eyes, but their parents were stunned into silence. Tears prickled in Langris's eyes, and his heart was pounding so rapidly he was sure it was going to beat out of his chest. His whole body trembled as his father turned towards him, and he shut his eyes tightly flinching in anticipation of his father's rage.

"That is spatial magic worthy of House Vaude," said his father. His head reeling, Langris opened one eye in blinking disbelief.

"What wonderful power, Langris!" his mother exclaimed placing a hand on his head.

Langris blinked at them. Was this it? Was this the magic his parents so desperately wanted—the magic that somehow he possessed? It almost seemed too good to be true.

"I…the gazebo…" Langris began quietly and apologetically still completely bewildered by his parents' reaction.

"We'll have the servants clean it up," answered his father dismissively before he turned his attention away from Langris to his brother. "Finral," he began, and Finral looked up almost hopeful but his face fell immediately as his father said, "You would do well to wield your magic like Langris. You wouldn't want the shame of being shown up by your younger brother again, would you?"

Finral stared at the ground and shuffled his feet as their father walked back into the house. His face looked so sad and dejected.

"Come along, Langris," said his mother leading him off by the arm. "You have a lot of practicing to do. If you can prove that you're a better mage than this weakling, all of this may be yours one day…" All mine? he wondered. Her words didn't make sense to him. His father had always made it clear that he was the spare child, the extra. Finral was the one who got the attention as the eldest, the heir to their house, and Langris was just fading, disappearing, in in the background. But now…now, his father had seen him—had even praised him. If he learned how to use this power—if he was the best—would he finally be enough?

The sound of Finral sniffling and whimpering quietly to himself caught his attention, and Langris turned back to his brother one last time watching as a single, glistening tear cascaded down his red, swollen cheek before he followed his mother into the house.


Were you scared, Uncle Langris? His niece's question repeated in his mind, and Langris swallowed hard, forced to admit the truth to himself: of course, he was scared—how could he not be? Life at House Vaude was a delicate balance that he had spent every waking moment terrified of upsetting—terrified of failing to live up to his parents' expectations, of stumbling on the tightrope of perfection, of making a mistake. Because he knew—he had always known—that he was expendable, a contingency, and the minute he put one toe out of line, the minute he wasn't the perfect son, wasn't useful to his mother and father anymore, he would be berated and discarded just like Finral—slipping into oblivion until he would completely disappear. The burden of this had always weighed so heavily on him—a constant terror and unease that he could never fully escape—that even now, years later, he felt it twisting and gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He had never stopped being afraid.

"Yes," he confessed quietly to his niece. "I was scared." He paused, but his face softened as he reassured her. "But you don't have to be. You have so many people who love you no matter what kind of magic you have or what you do with it."

There was a long pause after which Narah began very quietly, "Do you…do you think Dad is upset I don't have magic like him?"

Langris shook his head. "No. Not at all. I don't even think he's mad about the wall."

"Really?" asked Narah sniffling, and Langris nodded.

"Mhm," he hummed curtly.

"I…I don't know why I don't…don't have magic like his…" Narah cried—her voice soft and constricted. "He says that his magic is like that because he doesn't want to hurt anybody. I don't want to hurt anybody either so I don't…I don't know why…"

Her words got choked up in a sob that sounded so much like Finral's at that age. Langris could almost hear his painful whimpering in response to their father's cruelty—could almost see the tears in his eyes as he tried to smile for him in the face of so much suffering, as he stepped in between him and their parents, before that incredible power had burst out of Langris for the first time.

"Maybe you have something you want to protect…"

Langris heard a very quiet gasp from under the bed and after a short pause, Narah asked in a voice that was no longer weepy, "Like with the mouse?"

"Yes, just like that. You were scared and wanted to protect your family from the mouse, didn't you? You didn't mean to hit the wall," answered Langris. " You don't have to use your magic to hurt people—you don't even have to use it at all. But you can learn to control it, and when you do, I know you'll be a powerful mage and would be a great Magic Knight if you want to be one. Then you can use your power to defend the Kingdom and protect the people you care about. It doesn't just have to destroy." Langris sighed and continued gently, "But even if it does…even if you accidentally break down a hundred more walls, there is nothing that could stop your family from loving you. Your dad especially" —he rolled his eyes almost-affectionately—"He was so worried about you that he even came to get me to help. I don't know what he was thinking…"

Langris chuckled dryly, almost teasingly, but at his words there was a swift rustling sound and his niece bolted out from under the bed and wrapped her arms around him. Langris gasped quietly in surprise as he awkwardly draped an arm around her and gave her a pat on the back.

"You helped a lot, Uncle Langris. Thank you," she said as she stared back at him with a wide, kind smile that looked just like her dad's. Langris' face softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched just barely into a slight smile.

"Narah!" exclaimed Finral appearing frazzled in the doorway, as if he somehow knew Langris had been thinking of him. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Dad!" she cried before running towards him and throwing her arms around him. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay. It's okay. You don't have to be sorry," he gently reassured her—patting her back comfortingly as they hugged each other.

After he gently kissed the top of his daughter's head, Finral mouthed an extremely grateful and tearful, Thank you!, to Langris over Narah's shoulder, but Langris shrugged it off. He shook his head with a slight roll of his eyes—his dumb brother had tears in his eyes and was blubbering more than his daughter—but even Langris had to admit there was something genuinely moving about the scene and almost gratifying when the thought, if only Father and Mother could see us now, passed through his head.

Langris' mouth twitched into a smile. Somehow despite their parents' absolute best efforts to turn them into equally corrupt, heartless clones of themselves—as Langris could only imagine that every generation of Vaudes had done to their children in a vicious cycle of cruelty and suffering—they had failed in possibly the most epic fashion imaginable. Sure, neither of Finral or Langris were perfect by any means, but they were better… and they were trying to be better…and that was enough. The cycle stopped with them.

Finral wiped his eyes and held out a hand to Langris. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" he asked with a kind smile.

"I have paperwork…" Langris insisted curtly, but his niece slipped her tiny hand into his and looked up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Please, Uncle Langris?"

Langris sighed. She had eyes like her father's too. The thought almost made him smile just barely in spite of himself.

"Alright," he conceded as his brother and his niece led him down the stairs, and it wasn't long until his report was completely forgotten.

Fin

End A/N: Thank you for reading this story all the way to the end! I hope you enjoyed it. Your support and constructive feedback are truly appreciated! Names are hard (particularly in Black Clover where the author pulls characters' names from several different languages and cultures) so I wanted to add a bit of a note at the end as to how I picked Finral's daughter's name. Seeing has Finral's name has Celtic/Gaelic roots, I tried to pick a name for his daughter from the same origin. It is my understanding that the name "Nara" means "Happy" in its Celtic origin (and the Narah I've met in real life spelled her name with an "h" on the end so I added that here). Just a little nod to my sincere hope that Finral finds true and lasting happiness one day!