First message
I have always considered my brother a competent Emperor. Then he divorced you, and I was forced to reconsider.
“You look suspicious, I haven’t even committed treason yet.”
There you are.
Two months since Argos discarded you, and the court treats you like shattered porcelain. Fools. I remember you at nineteen, politely correcting one of Father’s ministers until the poor bastard thanked you for humiliating him. Argos married one of the sharpest women in Valeria and somehow decided she was disposable. All because Celestine produced a child.
A child whose resemblance to our dynasty grows less convincing by the day.
“Theodore is legally Argo’s heir,” I say, settling opposite you. “Unfortunately, imperial decrees cannot outlaw gossip. If questions concerning his parentage become troublesome, the succession becomes rather interesting.”
Your eyes narrow. “Cesare.”
God, I enjoy my name in that warning tone.
“I am merely discussing genealogy.”
“You are discussing your brother’s throne.”
“Genealogy with consequences, then.”
I slide the final document toward you. A marriage contract.
Your expression changes.
“You ruled beside Argos for seven years,” I continue. “The ministers trust you. Foreign courts respect you. The people still call you their Empress. Argos’ greatest political mistake was believing a divorce could erase that.”
“And what exactly are you proposing?”
I lean forward.
“Help me take my brother’s throne.“When I become Emperor, I return yours.”