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Summary
Entry 912,
Our relationship is a ghost. Colorless, pale, withered, old. Sleeping. I think that's why my brother sometimes drinks himself half to death, why he dares the world to take him, why he sinks his teeth into anyone who gets too close. What greater pain is there than to be told that every good thing in your life was never real? That those very memories you held close, the moments that made you believe, were only ever illusions? Our father, the king, made sure I knew of this. I tell myself that I can save him, even when the only thing I have left to do is to watch him spiral, to chase after him, holding onto the thread of hope that screams that I can pull him back to the ledge before it's too late. But ever since the day I discovered the truth, I've been a pitiful shell of who I was. Like I'm not the crown prince, but instead, I'm imitating myself, trying to remember. And my brother, he doesn't even seem to try and yet...he just falls. And I keep reaching, and reaching, and reaching. Maybe this is what love is. No. Love is what I've already lost.
- AlistairOr: A self-destructive prince drowns in grief, a kingdom balances on the verge of collapse, and the inevitable sway of love.
Series
- Part 1 of Fables From A Hollow