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His legs dangled over the edge of the tower balcony, the cool breeze rustling his hair. Beside him sat the general - Rhett. His ruby eyes, so full of passion, locked on the constellations above them. He remembered how his rough hand brushed against his, hesitant yet sure.
"You could leave it all behind, you know," he had whispered, his voice soft but heavy with intent. "This court, this throne, this empire. We could start over - brand new. A better life."
Blu had laughed, though it sounded hollow even to his ears. "And leave my family to ruin? You know I can’t do that."
"No," Rhett said firmly, turning to face him. "You’re more than your family, Blu. You’re not just some puppet to be stringed to do their bidding. You’re… you’re my everything."
For a moment, just a fleeting moment, he had let himself believe him.
________
The sharp shattering of a glass champagne chute echoes throughout the room, filling in the empty atmosphere of the night. Sharp blue eyes meet shivering reds, undeterred. Choking, heaving for air, the rustle of fabric was audible as the general’s hands clutch at his chest - a last attempt to alleviate the pain.
"I loved you, Blu, even now."
Thud. Crash!
His body falls not long after the glass, crunching and tinkling where shards meet flesh and fabric. The cold gaze follows after the fallen body, a hint of remorse - guilt - within his cobalt eyes. Perhaps, in another life, he thought. There was no longer any use mourning the life he could have had, no - the life that was never meant for him.
Lord Blu Orbis, the beloved eldest son and second in line of the Duchy of Orbis, a proud family known for their military prowess and unflinching loyalty to the empire. He had lived his life nothing more than a pawn for his family’s ambitions, especially so after the tragic loss of his parents. Sacrificing every mortal desire he had, pushing everything aside - even his own love - to become the next Emperor, if only to secure his family’s political power.
“Dispose of the general at once.” His voice steely, unwavering.
“Yes, my Lord!” Two knights acknowledged, before attempting to heft the body over their shoulders, one arm each. It would be a humorous sight - if only the situation were any other - two gangly knights dragging away a monster of a man.
He clenched his jaw as the knights dragged Rhett's body out of the room, his blood leaving a dark trail across the polished marble floor. That balcony felt so far away now, like a memory from another life. The general had not been a revolutionist then, and neither was Blu the crown prince’s shadow. The man who had once been his world now lay lifeless at his feet, and for what?
The crown prince’s voice rang in his head, calm and commanding, just as it had been the night he had made him the promise.
"You want me to love you, don’t you, Blu? Then prove it. Prove your loyalty to me and the empire. Rhett is a traitor. You know what you have to do."
His chest tightened as he remembered how easily he had believed him, how desperately he had clung to the hope that the prince would finally see him, if he only gave him everything he asked for.
“For my love… My idol…” No matter how much he screams at the walls that it is true, the wall will neither falter nor tremble. He stared at his hands, the very same that had ended who had once been his muse. Try as he might to convince himself, he would never be able to replace who was once dearest to him.
He clasped his hands together, a feeble attempt to keep them from shaking.
“It was all for him…” he whispered, his voice trembling. But even as the words left his lips, they felt hollow. He knew, deep down, that Goldel would never love him the way Rhett had. “...that I have committed this grave act of sin.”
He had told himself this was necessary, that the empire would fall into chaos if the revolution succeeded. But no amount of reasoning could quiet the ghost of his voice echoing in his mind.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of the heels of his boots reverberated through the hallway as he walked, only muffled by the bodies of fallen guards and blood stained carpets. Swords lay scattered and impaled in carcasses, a gruesome sight to those of weaker stature. The walk towards the throne room was bereft of any life - not after the orders he had given.
I did as he bid me and became a murderer for his crown. A sombre smile spread across his face as the thought crossed his mind.
Patting down his suit, now stained brown and reeking of iron, he reached for the keys he had been given - the keys to the throne room. Had the plan succeeded, Goldel Brassfelle, the crown prince, would have massacred every last revolutionist within the castle.
I hope he’ll be pleased… Gaining the crown’s favour was not easy by any means. Should the prince be disappointed with his efforts or be deemed unfit to rule, his head’s whereabouts would be the latest talk of the empire. He had given everything short of his life for the prince's newly gained position. …Now that the throne is secured.
Blu placed the key within the lock and unlocked the large double doors. He raised his arms but paused to take a glance at his reflection - almost unrecognizable as the man he was mere months ago.
He took a moment to wipe a stray splatter of blood away from his cheek and strengthened his resolve.
I wonder if this means… he thought, as he pushed open the doors with a large creak, revealing a large room with dark yellow carpets spanning from the door to the throne, set several flights of stairs above the ground. Grand chandeliers and a pair of banners were hanging high in the ceiling. …That he’ll love me more.
“Well?” His gaze followed the voice, rising toward the throne. There, seated was the crown prince of the Sawgart Empire in all his glory. Dirty blonde hair and pale skin easily overshadowed by his exorbitant attire consisting of a vibrant gold cape and darker clothing. “What news do you bring?”
“It is done.”
“Good.” A sly smile graced his face. “Guards? Begone with him.”
“What?!”