Title: Fool's Gold

Summary: All that glitters is not gold.

Genre: Angst

I had just finished my lessons for the day. Today I was subjected with identifying examples of sycophants and charlatans. All it served to do was highlight how ignoble nobles were. Even the most benign introductions were hinted to be false. The only introductions that were legitimate had been the ones talking about business upfront.

I hated being the crown prince. Because of my position, no compliment or interaction could be taken at face value. It was always a ploy to manipulate the crown prince. All relationships had to be a transaction. No one cared about the boy beneath the crown.

Not even my fiancée cared. She was just like the rest. It was so disappointing. Our engagement wasn't formed from love, but when I had seen her breakdown from her training, I had thought she understood my situation... I thought she understood how unbearable and unwanted the weight of duty was... That we could fall in love as two people who could fully understand one another.

She spat on my gestures to connect with her. I offered a shoulder for her to lean on so that the girl underneath could take refuge from her duties, and she repaid my actions by trying to drown out the boy who needed her shoulder.

She broke my hope. She began to critique and criticize my behavior. She became like my other tutors since she wanted to stamp out all the little aspects of me that didn't fit into the mold of the crown prince.

No... after today's lesson, I realized she was worse. Unlike my tutors who were paid to help me identify such snakes, Angelica legitimately did everything I was warned to look out for. She learned my habits and tried to use those wiggle her way into my graces.

She was only in it to become the Queen.

I looked at Clarice as she giggled prettily. She was gushing over my good traits. What should of made any other man joyous made me uncomfortable. I was nothing like the image she propped up of me.

I was dirty. My family were the ones to protect the Kingdom from the shadows. There was no deed that we would not stoop to if it meant securing the Kingdom's future. It was a legacy I was proud of, and a duty I would die for if it meant my brother could live a better life.

Clarice, the definition of a maiden, would never be able to understand who I was. I could already tell the expressions she would make once she realized. The look of horror and fear.

The worst part would be she wouldn't hate me for it. She would try to rescue me from my situation. Clarice would absolve me of my sins because she truly loved her precious fiancé.

She didn't love me. Her love for the image of me would blind her to the truth. She would erase everything I was proud of because it wouldn't fit in her perfect world. Her love denied everything I stood for.

The worst part was that I wanted to spare her the pain. It would have made things so much easier if I simply did not care.

She was a good woman who didn't deserve to be sullied by my existence. She didn't deserve to be tied down to my family's legacy. She did not deserve to have our children be indoctrinated into my legacy. She did not deserve to have to comfort her child after they blooded themselves at the age of five.

In a twisted sense, my affection for her could only manifest properly by breaking any contact with her so that she may find a happy life in the light.

It was unfortunate for her that tying our families together was what was best for Julius. It would make his life easier. So Clarice's happily ever after must be sacrificed.

It was the end of the day, and I laid on the floor in exhaustion. Staring up at the ceiling, I questioned the futility of it all. For all the praise heaped onto me, the words all rang hollow. What meaning did praise have if it was handed out by those who lacked an understanding of the blade?

I was the youngest sword saint candidate. As if that title meant anything. I was a candidate and nothing more. I was the youngest because there were none my age even vying for the status. I was a talentless hack who only had the benefit of the best training at birth. My father had said as much.

I had no talent. I was no prodigy. I got as far as I have through sheer effort alone. My efforts to master the blade only made my father hate me more. My minimal gains were just a constant reminder of my failure as his son.

My training also grated my relationship with my fiancée. The girl had been fascinated at first, but quickly grew bored of me. She didn't understand what the blade meant to me. Her constant dismissal of my need to train showed she understood nothing.

What hurt most was how she used my father against me. She compared me to him, and would pointedly tell me I was wasting my time. The girl claimed I shouldn't be wasting so much time if my father could maintain his skill with only an hour a day.

I knew she was just trying to get me to stop my training so we could talk more, but she had to go about it in a way that hurt me most. She was supposed to be my fiancée. I had shared my concerns once with her, and she used it against me. She dismissed my legacy... my one accomplishment no matter how minuscule away because it was a bore for her. A boy playing with his stick.

Looking at my sword, I wanted to cast it aside. Its very existence mocked me. It served to remind me how lackluster my capabilities were. For all my vaunted hard work, it was never enough. No matter how hard I trained, I could never shorten the distance in skill between Father and me.

But I could never bring myself to toss it aside. If I did not have a blade in hand, what was I good for? It didn't matter if this was ruining my life. I knew nothing aside from the blade.

I was locked in my room again. I had failed another etiquette assessment. I didn't matter that the boy from Alzer was running his mouth, I was expected to be above the barking of the rabble. It was humiliating having to listen to some punk spout whatever bullshit he wanted.

I just didn't get it. The punk was just some upstart commoner with more balls than brains. All he needed was a good smack to realize how idiotic he was to antagonize people when he was in the country he was insulting.

Instead, I was pulled aside and disciplined. How was letting someone disrespect us ever a good thing? Now the boy would think we were weak. He would believe that he could spout whatever he wanted without consequence. That was the type of shit that would convince others to attack us.

The niceties that the adults spouted was all bullshit. It was all just pleasantries and false smiles. I knew they agreed with me deep down, but they were all too cowardly to take action. They were all too secure in there cushy lives to muster the will to stand up for themselves.

I wasn't even sure how many could fight anymore with how defanged and decrepit they were. Looking at the aging Framptons made me scoff. It was pathetic.

What worth was there to being a noble if you would become a slug stuck to a glittering throne.

I heard another tutor praise my magical skill. Such praise was a given. It brought me no joy. It actually annoyed me. For as much as I wanted to take pride in my skill, it was not the skill respected.

I was unflatteringly weak. I was not as physically gifted as either Chris or Greg. Hell, I was lacking compared to even Jilk. The man was as lean as they came.

It rankled me that no matter how impressive my magic was, I would forever be considered the most pathetic of the five founding heirs. I could bend the world to my whims at the snap of a finger, but it was a skill all nobles were expected to have a passing skill in. Even if no one else was capable of conjuring storms or miniature suns, everyone would pass it off as basic.

Sure, those in the know would be able to appreciate such feats, but everyone looked upon Chris's skill with the blade as something to aspire to. They saw someone swinging a lump of metal proficiently as something more respectable. It was utterly galling.

What was worse was that I agreed with those beliefs. My fiancée, as distasteful as she was, did not spare me the details about how she wanted someone to dominate her. How she needed someone physically capable of holding her down. She was explicit in detailing how all women wanted someone built like Greg, Chris, or her servants to rail them.

I gritted my teeth. I was so physically weak that my fiancée had bought slaves to pleasure her. Out of the heirs, only my fiancée had the audacity to take on slaves. And no one spoke up about it because I was the sole loser of the heirs. Of course she was allowed to disrespect me in such away.

And my parents allowed it.

AN:

1) While the novel somewhat touched on the hangups of the five, it never really went into full detail. And when it did, the reasons they presented felt a bit lacking. So this was an attempt to flesh out the background details to somewhat explain their behavior and willingness to toss their families aside so willingly. I wanted to make them feel reasonably believable instead of just plain idiotic.

2) I was thinking of adding the fiancées to this list, but it felt oddly out of place. I might try to do a separate chapter for them. Angelica's alone might be worth a snippet on it's own since it would be interesting to explore why she loves the prince so much beyond one moment of vulnerability.

3) I think the main things I missed was explaining why Greg was insistent on only using basic equipment.

4) I forget if it was Chris's or Greg's fiancée that never met them. Not that it matters much since they are never named.

5) I feel Stephanie would be vindictive and crass enough to detail her infidelity.

6) Not mentioned explicitly is that Brad's flirtatious attitude is a means to build up his self worth as something desirable for the ladies. His interactions with Stephanie and perception that he lacks real manly sex appeal makes him crave the attention. His narcissism is also a self protection mechanism to shield his ego from his crumbling mental state.

7) These are more or less the basis I use whenever I do a more serious story.