Never Die Villain

"Father, if I may be so bold as to ask something of you, please lighten the burden on Sister’s shoulders."

Ilya stood directly before Valentin, forcing himself to keep his back straight as he looked up at the man.

Even after six years in this world, Valentin still intimidated him whenever they were alone like this, if only because of the sheer difference between them.

At his current age, Ilya was little more than a runt standing before the patriarch of House Belozersky, a man whose presence could intimidate rooms filled with nobles far older and more powerful than him.

"Anastasiya must learn the hard way, Ilya."

Valentin looked down at his son.

"Every Belozersky heir has undergone the same training, and many of your predecessors endured mentors far stricter than the ones assigned to your sister. If Anastasiya is to inherit this family one day, she cannot be spared simply because the lessons are difficult."

"But that’s exactly the problem, Father." Ilya gathered enough courage to meet his eyes. "Those heirs were all men. Sister is a girl, and you’re forcing her through the same training as though that difference doesn’t matter."

Valentin said nothing.

His eyes remained on the six-year-old standing before him, and once again, he found himself wondering what kind of child Diane had given him.

Ilya had always been strange, far too composed for his age, frighteningly quick to understand lessons meant for children several years older, and already so far ahead of his peers with the sword that even some of his instructors had begun running out of things appropriate for his age to teach him.

Had circumstances been different, Valentin would have seriously considered naming him heir.

The problem had never been Ilya’s ability.

The branch families had opposed the possibility from the beginning, and Valentin could not simply silence them because he happened to disagree.

The Margraves governed enormous parts of the North in the Grand Duke’s name, maintained armies of their own, guarded borders that House Belozersky could never defend alone, and carried generations of influence among the northern nobility.

A Grand Duke who ignored all of them whenever their counsel became inconvenient would soon discover how little a title meant when the people responsible for keeping his realm functioning stopped cooperating.

Before Valentin was Ilya’s father, he was the Grand Duke.

And the Grand Duke could not make decisions as freely as a father might have wished.

"Do you think I haven’t considered that?"

"...Then why?"

"Because the world will not become gentler simply because Anastasiya is a girl. If anything, she will be judged more harshly for it. Every failure she displays will be exaggerated, and every man who believes a woman has no place ruling the North will use those failures as proof that he was right."

"So your answer is to hurt her until she stops failing?"

"My answer is to prepare her for people who will do far worse than hurt her wrists."

"But Father... she’s only nine..."

"And one day she will not be."

Ilya clenched his fists. "Then make me the heir."

Valentin’s eyes narrowed.

Ilya swallowed, but he continued.

"If Sister doesn’t want it, then give it to me. I’ll do the training, I’ll learn whatever you want me to learn, and I’ll become strong enough that none of the elders can complain."

He raised his head again.

"You don’t have to keep forcing her."

Valentin stared at his son. "You believe it’s that simple?"

"No."

Ilya already knew enough about this family to understand that much.

"But I can make them accept me."

"...Can you?"

"I’ll make them."

Valentin looked at him for a long while.

Perhaps, under different circumstances, those words would have made him proud. The fire in the boy’s eyes, his talent with the sword, and the strange maturity he had displayed ever since he learned to speak were qualities any father of House Belozersky would have celebrated.

Yet Valentin knew exactly how the family regarded the woman who had given birth to him, and although he had done everything within his power to protect Diane from the worst of it, there were limits even to what the Grand Duke could control.

In public, they praised Ilya as a prodigy.

Behind closed doors, Valentin knew what they called him.

The son of a concubine. The bastard born from a woman who had no business sharing the Grand Duke’s bed. A child they were perfectly willing to celebrate whenever his victories brought glory to House Belozersky, yet equally willing to remind him of his birth the moment his existence became inconvenient.

"I cannot name you my heir just yet."

"...."

"But if what you say is true..." Valentin leaned forward, resting his arms against the desk as he looked directly into his son’s eyes. "If one day you become a man capable of surpassing even me, then who would have the standing to complain?"

"Father...?"

"You said you would make them accept you. Then do exactly that. Become so accomplished that opposing you would make them look like fools, so strong that no elder could point toward another candidate without embarrassing himself, and so indispensable to the North that your mother’s name becomes irrelevant to the discussion."

"Understood, Father. I only hope to make you proud."

* * *

"Mother, are you alright?!"

It happened several months later.

Diane returned to the Grand Ducal estate looking worse than Ilya had ever seen her. Her clothes were dirty and torn in several places, a bandage had been wrapped around her forehead, and she had to lean against one of the knights accompanying her as she stepped down from the carriage.

"Mother!"

Ilya immediately ran toward her.

"Ilya, wait..."

"What happened to you?" He grabbed onto her dress and looked up at her, his face already pale. "Why are you hurt? Who did this?"

"I’m alright, sweetheart."

"You’re bleeding!"

"Not anymore."

Diane tried to smile before gently placing her hand on his head.

"Some people attacked us on the road while we were returning from the capital. The knights protected me, and everyone made it home alive."

She ruffled his hair when she noticed he was still staring at the bandage around her head.

"See? Your mother is tougher than she looks."

"...."

Ilya didn’t laugh.

The official explanation was bandits. But even so, he found that difficult to believe.

Diane wasn’t some merchant traveling along an unguarded road. She was the Grand Duke’s concubine, traveling under the protection of House Belozersky, and anyone willing to attack her carriage had to know what sort of family they were provoking.

Several names immediately came to mind. But he had no proof. Worse, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!