♕ RULES OF THE NATURE ARE FAIR AND CRUEL. —

[kaleb]

The state of the battlefield was worse than he imagined.

In a way, he was paying for his own incompetence.

Perhaps he failed on his leadership, or something more. Kaleb was currently kneeling on the ground, overpowered by the being he was supposed to be stronger — infinitely better than, or at least it was what he was taught.

Ah, angels were such disgusting beings. He could see the other male, azure eyes that mirrored nothing but insanity. The few information he was able to gather about Asgard told an interesting tale - on how the mad leader of the angels ruled the whole world with cruelty that far surpassed his, on how people blindly followed - adored a being that they saw as a god.

- “…”



As for him, it felt as if he was fighting against the ghost of his long deceased father. Tière Aaldenberg was one of the many things his father died and just left for Kaleb to deal with - a war that wasn’t his, a kingdom that he never wanted, responsibilities that should have been thrown to his older brother. If things worked as intended, would it be Svein kneeling on the ground instead of him, or would that trash for a person be somewhere else?

It was these kind of thoughts that made him avoid looking at the situation at hand, although the other tyrant’s voice brought him back.

He was mocking Kaleb. For several minutes now, even. A hand grabbing his hair and forcing him to look up and stare, waiting for any signs of fight inside the crimson king.

“I expected more from you, you know. Being the son of that man.”

But there was only silence. He failed, and now he quietly was waiting death. That is what it means to die on the battlefield - that is what you get for making mistakes.

It seems that this fact only angered the other male more, as he felt Tière’s grip on his hair tighten and force his head to an uncomfortable-almost impossible-position. Words that seemed more like poison invaded his ears despite the constant attempts to block them out.

“Oh, I forgot. You don’t like to be compared, no? I wonder, what was like living on the shadow of the person who hated you all along? You’re nothing but trash, Kaleb Blackwood. You have this position because no one else wants to. You are there even though he never, ever liked you.

“Jörn Blackwood’s son”, how does it feel to be compared to your father all the time?”

And then he could hear laughter. He was laughing at him - as he always was - diminishing Kaleb and rubbing at his face how worthless and incompetent he was.

How he was the son of that whore of a woman - one that his father only kept at his side to produce his heirs and then forget all about his existence - how he was foolish to cling on to his mother as they were both completely dejected as his father kept giving attention to his brother, how he cried when his mother died in front of him, how he was the one to bear this burden and how he FAILED MISERABLY AND HE WAS MAKING SURE KALEB WAS AWARE OF IT by suddenly forcing his head down and stare at his own blood on the floor - armor mangled and laughter echoing around him.

He would never stop.

They would never stop.

The world would never stop pointing at his failure and how his father would never do something like this.

“So I am going to give you a gift! It would be boring to end you now and miss the chance of stepping on your shattered pride later… so I am going to make you even more similar to the person you hate. How about that?

I am sure that this is something you are dying for, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

It was a spy. They probably had a spy somewhere inside his kingdom for all these years(despite Kaleb’s efforts on keeping an eye out for them, eliminating every single threat and anyone that seemed suspicious). It was how he had so much information about him, and the demon was left in the dark about his enemies abilities that weren’t included in old reports.

That was why Kaleb was in this situation right now.

He left no room for the albino to react, still holding his hair and forcing his head still, now upwards again. For the demon to always look up at him, for he to…

… look? He was at a loss. His hands - his fingers were dangerously close to Kaleb’s right eye, nails touching his skin gently… for a single second.

What was happening made a scream escape his lips. He could feel fingers invading his body - almost as if they wanted to reach his skull and crush him and they kept reaching out and curling around what it may be his eye and—

- “N…no, wha… what are you doing. Stop.

No. I don’t want this. Stop…. I TOLD YOU TO STOP,

I—”

— pulling it out. He was going to die, he was definitely going to die because he did not want to be alive right now this was far too humiliating this was far too cruel he did not he did not want this he did

there was blood everywhere he could feel his mind going blank he could feel despair he could feel himself being completely overwhelmed;

And then the other was yelling, completely ignoring his plea.

“YES, SCREAM FOR ME. THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO HEAR OF YOU. SCREAM AS YOU REALIZE HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE.

SCREAM FOR YOUR DEAD MOTHER, SCREAM FOR ALL THE DREAMS THAT THEY SHATTERED, SCREAM LIKE THEY NEVER ALLOWED YOU TO.

YOU ARE JUST FUCKING PATHETIC, KALEB BLACKWOOD.

YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT, JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER TOLD YOU SEVERAL TIMES.

IT IS A MIRACLE YOU ARE STILL ALIVE NOW, TRASH."

No response. His own face was covered in blood, brain screaming that something went terribly, terribly wrong as his empty eye socket seemed to throb as to warn him for the obvious lack of eye - and his vision went dizzy for a second.

He wanted to black out and simply stop responding, but the man forced himself to stay conscious just because he wasn’t allowed to do something like ‘lose consciousness’. What kind of a king, what kind of a person would he be?? Such words kept resounding on his head all the time.

… Ah.

“Retreat, all troops retreat!! We are not wasting time with this any longer.

I hope you are happy with this, Kaleb Blackwood.”

Ah no.

His mind ignored, but his body finally reacted to the situation.

- “Ur—rr——”

There was now vomit next to his knees and boots, mixing with blood and leaving a fairly unpleasant noise in the air. Even if there wasn’t anything he could do about it… and even if the situation was about to get worse, face wet with tears, sweat and blood.

“We found him!! Call Cantorix over, it’s an order!”

No, no he could not see him in this state, no.

He could not see Kaleb because he failed he failed failed failed failed failed he will get angry but then again it is all his fault it was all all all of it was his fault he was incompetent he was prepared for the punishment but even so even so he was scared he was shaking in pure fear even if he was screaming in pain again he barely reacted but now he was trembling violently be it by blood loss or fear or both or

… his hand kept covering the right part of his face, desperately trying to cover the lack of his eye and not trying to show how bad his injuries really were; he would have to apologize he was already apologizing as Alistair gradatively came close to him please don’t come near me I am sorry I promise I will do better next time I won’t fail you I am not a failure I am not I am not I am sorry I am not

am

I———

- “Aa…aah…. I’m sorry… Alistair…”

Comments

[ryner]

...There was no pressing reason to reach out to Kaleb. He wasn't panicking and on the verge of death, like he'd been before, when Alistair had held him on the battlefield. Alistair was not someone to provide emotional support when it wasn't absolutely vital.

There was no emotion in his voice when he spoke.



"...Rest as well, Your Majesty."

Alistair turned to the door. This time, he didn't pause there, instead closing it silently behind him; he lingered outside with his hand still on the knob for only a moment before letting go.

He did not want to comfort Kaleb. The concept of "comfort" was foreign to Alistair to begin with. No, he didn't desire anything as meaningless as stopping Kaleb's tears. But something cold and leaden had settled in the pit of his stomach, and every moment he spent with the image of Kaleb's face in his mind -- trembling, wet with tears -- it seemed to grow heavier.

Ridiculous. He could not linger on this. It would do him no good. It would do his King no good. Indulging Kaleb's weakness would only lead him to believe that it was acceptable, and he would grow weaker, less capable of ruling Tartarus. There was no point in even considering it.

Had Alistair ever spent so much time ordering his thoughts like this? This day had been strange, yes, but not strange enough to warrant so much time spent simply sorting one thought from another, or reminding himself of what he was meant to be feeling. He told himself, again, that he was only disappointed in Kaleb. That it was nothing more. (He should not have to remind himself of these things, and this, too, was something he knew well.)

Alistair was not used to second-guessing himself like this under any circumstance. When he made a decision, it was final, and he did not doubt himself, ever-confident in his own judgement and skill. He was a Cantorix, after all. He was above doubt.

He made his way to an empty room along the hallway, and did not look back at Kaleb's door.