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Weak (Eleazar Pov)[Blood legacies]
🕑 Added 2025-01-31 20:45:44 +0000 UTCNote Author: Hello everyone! Here's the pov! (it will be available for public reading after the 10th)
And tomorrow I'll bring you the Q&A post in case you want to make any requests or ask any questions. And no, I haven't forgotten about Tyler's Valentine's Day special, but I'm having a little trouble finishing it. Nothing serious, but it will be brought back in February, as well as other things.
Ask from AlmaNegra.
Hello, when MC was still a child and they were with Lord Campos and Eleazar with the prisoner, Eleazar orders MC to kill the prisoner. If MC stutters and says they can’t, Eleazar kills the prisoner and leaves the room without even looking at his child. What was going through his mind at that moment?
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He couldn’t stand still.
He paced back and forth in the corridor, thinking, stewing over the earlier moments, while Campos and one of the soldiers watched him.
He was losing control. His impatience was something that needed to be eliminated, but how? He felt himself growing furious with each new outrage. First, Martell, who hadn’t sent the troops he was supposed to, costing them good soldiers.
He was a fool for hoping Martell would keep his word, that he’d have even a shred of honor. I should never have trusted the word of a Petrunian, never hoped Martell would act decently. My father would be ashamed of me for this idiocy.
He didn’t want to stay there, didn’t want to spend another minute in this castle.
This place is rotten, and so are the people in it.
And now, you falter in front of Campos and his soldier? Eleazar gritted his teeth. I allowed this. I let her weaken my legacy to dust in the wind. My father would have made me pay for this with my own blood. And it would’ve been better than the shame crawling through me at the thought that you barely had the resolve to spill a drop of that rebel’s blood.
He saw the weakness in your eyes, the hesitation, the fear. How could he have permitted this? His father would say he was a fool for letting Alexandra keep you a child for so long. She tried her best.
Eleazar took a deep breath. It’s this place. This castle, this kingdom… These people, their tainted blood, the rot cloaked in cowards who hide behind fine clothes and lifted chins, as if everyone else were beneath them.
They’ll pay. With their blood, and Eleazar won’t lift a hand to help them—not until there’s no other way. How did she endure it? he wondered. But he shouldn’t be surprised. The Demandri had always been bold, uncaring of what they had to suffer as long as they got what they wanted.
“Duke—” Campos began.
“What?!” he snapped, glaring at Campos with impatience.
Though he’d shouted, his old friend and lord didn’t flinch. Campos stared back gravely, neither bowing his head nor stepping back like the soldier had after the outburst.
“We must speak to the duchess about the situation,” Campos told him. “It’s unwise to keep this information from her, Eleazar.”
“Fine,” Eleazar retorted, waving at the soldier beside him. “Go to my wife. Tell her I need to speak with her. Urgently.”
The soldier bowed and hurried down the corridor. Campos continued staring. “This could lead us into war. Not against rebels this time—you know that, Your Grace.”
The title came late and half-hearted. Despite years of friendship, Campos clung to formality. Yet it didn’t stop him from questioning and advising—a quality Eleazar appreciated, even when it annoyed him.
He took a deep breath, silent for a moment as they locked eyes. “It won’t,” he finally said. Campos clenched his jaw.
“They’ll say we neglected our duties, that we—”
“Let them talk,” Eleazar replied with deadly calm. “The decision will never be theirs. The king and queen may listen, but they won’t hand them power.”
“Do you think they’ll prioritize peace between us after this?”
He nearly snorted. “We still have enemies—now more than ever.” The truth was, no matter how strong Darian and Petrus were separately, they had to maintain at least a facade of decency toward each other. For everyone’s sake. “They won’t vanish in the next few years.”
“If this costs Petrus dearly—”
“Let it cost them,” Eleazar cut in. For the first time that night, he saw reluctance flicker across Campos’ face. He worries too much.“Let Petrus taste their own blood. Maybe then they’ll learn not to spit in Darian’s face and walk away unscathed.” Would his father be proud of him now? Or would this be another shame?
"Our duty is to protect our people,”his father had once told him. “Our Legacy, securing the future while preserving the past. Nothing more.”
“Your Grace ,” Campos started, making him frown. “If that’s the case, we should prepare.”
“We will. Before they even start bleeding.”
“And if we bleed too?” The voice came from beside him—none other than Alexandra. It made him stiffen, made Campos step back and bow. How did I not hear her? She raised an eyebrow. “Leave us, Lord Campos.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Campos bowed and retreated quickly, leaving them alone in the stone corridor. Coward.Eleazar gritted his teeth but didn’t dare move, staring at his wife calmly even as irritation simmered.
“What happened?”
He told her. About the remaining 9,000 rebels, the Wizards and non-humans among their ranks.
When he finished, they were sitting side by side on the cold, empty corridor floor. Alexandra held his hand in hers, thumb stroking his knuckles. He resented how relaxed he felt—back against the wall, shoulders slumped, breathing deeply with no trace of anger left, only lingering frustration.
I’ve grown so weak, he thought. His father was right.
But he hadn’t told her about forcing you to act. Alexandra mustn’t know—yet. When she finds out, he’ll have one hell of a headache.
“We should tell them,” she warned, and he met her gaze. Her expression softened. “It’s the prudent thing, dear.”
“I’m aware,” he said slowly. “But they… they broke their word.”
“And that means we shouldn’t keep ours?”
“Honor won’t bring our people back,” he shot back, harsher than intended. He softened his voice at her sad look. “I attended as many funerals as I could. I watched them buried, saw the grief on our people’s faces. They didn’t blame me—even after everything.”
“Because it wasn’t your fault.” Alexandra squeezed his hand. “Darling—”
“How wasn’t it?” He pulled free and stood, pacing away. He couldn’t stay angry near her, but distance helped. “I trusted them, believed they’d set aside their…” He breathed deeply. “Once again, I trusted, and it cost our people their lives.” He clenched his fists. “My father was right. We must learn to handle things alone. Relying on Petrunians’ goodwill is folly.” He’d need to teach you this. Eleazar wouldn’t let you grow weak, let them exploit you, watch you beg for help. Never.
“It’s not wrong to hope, Eleazar.” She stood, unbothered by his distance, her calm enviable. How did she bear it? “They’ve helped us before. Remember?”
“Petrus didn’t lift us up. We did that ourselves.”
“Yet we prospered alongside them.”
“But never because of them.” He pointed. “If they want war, they’ll get it. And we’ll see what remains.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That will cost us dearly. You know what happens when starving wolves smell blood.”
“They attack,” he replied. “But Petrus isn’t a wolf. And this time, we’ll be ready.”
“Eleazar…”
He stepped closer. “I promise.”
“I still think it’s reckless.” She allowed him to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her jaw gently.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, a flicker of fear rising as hesitation flashed in her eyes.
Yet Alexandra nodded, pressing her hand over his. “With all my heart.”
He exhaled in relief. “Good. That’s all I need.” He leaned to kiss her forehead, eyes closing briefly as she pulled him into an embrace. Her arms circled his waist, his around her shoulders, her face nestled in his neck. His heart raced at her nearness, relief flooding him. He sighed, resting his face against her shoulder, kissing it lightly before holding her tighter.
Eleazar wouldn’t admit it, but he wished he could stay there—just holding her, safe, free from worry over others’ judgments.
But they weren’t in Darian. And this wasn’t the place for such weakness.
Reluctantly, he pulled back but stayed close, their faces inches apart.
She smiled. “By the way, where’s our little bear-slayer?”
He tensed instantly. The dungeons flashed in his mind.
She doesn’t need to know.
His father’s voice echoed in his head.
