Murder Prince

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by Ashurato

(formerly Asurahime)

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- Chapter Five -

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"Please, teach me how to fight!"

Albel looked up from polishing the Crimson Scourge to view blue eyes bright with unshed tears behind a pair of glasses. It was the same boy who had cried so bitterly on Ameena's bedside. "Go away, little maggot. Do not waste my time with your weak ideas of revenge."

"Yes, I know I'm weak! That's why I couldn't protect Ameena! That's why she died! Despite how much I can care for someone, I can never do anything right!"

Albel growled and whipped his sword towards the boy, stopping the length of live steel a mere centimeter from the child's nose. He felt a mixture of satisfaction and irritation when the boy jumped back and scrambled away from the weapon. "Your reflexes are passable, but your fear of death has spoiled you from ever being a killer, little fool."

"My name is Dion!" shouted the boy, incensed that he was called spoiled even by his king.

Laughter similar to the sound of sandpaper escaped from Albel's throat and the bitter sound held no warmth. He lowered his sword and glared at the trembling boy before him. "Foolish boy! What is it that you want to fight for? To protect your kingdom? To protect people you care about? Or to simply find a means to an end because of how powerless you are? Bah! Put aside such ridiculous ideals!"

Dion froze where he stood as Albel slowly sheathed his sword. "But—"

"Hesitation is a certain way to die," hissed Albel as he rose and leaned close to the young boy and stared unblinkingly into his eyes. "To fight is to kill. In a battle, to survive means to take lives and plenty of them. There are those like me who are born to kill and there are those like you who will never be ready. If you want to protect others then stay out of the battlefield before maggots are the only beings to mourn your death." Without another word, Albel swept out of the room and made his way down the corridors of Aquaria Castle.

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The noise of a door opening startled Fayt from his light doze. Healers ordered him to stay on his stomach so that he would not irritate the two vertical wounds on his back. However, sleep fogged his mind and he made to turn around at the noise. The sheer agony of re-tearing healing muscles and opening scars forced Fayt to abandon all previous attempts at movement and he collapsed on the bed with a pained sigh.

Romero entered through the door and quietly closed it behind him. He then turned his attention to the suffering young man on the bed. Although the acrid and yet sterile scents of herbs and analeptics were strong, the sharp smell of blood lay present underneath. The bright room smelled of death and destruction, both familiar and beautiful to the undead.

"Your highness—" murmured Romero as he took the seat next to the bed.

"Fayt," came a muffled noise from the pillow that Romero could barely hear. "My name is Fayt, Romero."

The undead spirit smiled. "Names are worthless in our intricate farce, Fayt. You may have relinquished your titles, but you remain the power behind the throne. How are you feeling?"

"I think I saw my brother." Fayt's voice was lifeless and empty and his eyes were hollow, but the trembling hands that were slowly forming into fists betrayed his emotional turmoil. "And yet it couldn't be my brother. My brother would not kill our people! Luther would never hurt Gusto or kill Ameena… but those eyes and that rune circlet could not possibly belong to anyone else!"

Romero glanced at the door before turning to look out the window. Contrary to the gloom pervading the capital, the sky was clear and the sun shone bright. "Mortals are complex creatures. Your morality tells you the difference between right and wrong, but there are still factors which blur such definitions. What is good can conflict with what is necessary. Wars are fought as a means to achieve peace. There is no destiny, only time and how you choose to spend it before it runs out."

Fayt turned his head to face Romero. "So I choose to save people while Luther has been possessed to kill others."

"And how do you know he has been possessed?" Romero laughed dryly, like dead leaves as they are swept away by the wind. He could already see the rejection forming in Fayt's lips, but he continued on. "It is hardly that simple, Fayt. Those who are possessed must agree with the possessor's aspirations to a certain extent. If they are not the same, then a contract must be formed in order for one to gain someone that the other can provide."

"My brother is a good man!"

"But even good men can have desires. Possession brings about one's deepest wants and strives only to fulfill them." Romero's smile faded. "The same applies whether one is living or undead."

Silence grew in the room as Fayt and Romero studied each other. When Fayt broke spoke again, it was not a topic Romero was expecting. "Why do you follow Albel, Romero? I have heard rumors that the undead walk the earth only when they still have an attachment to life."

Romero's voice dropped to a whisper as he touched the wounds on Fayt's back. "Mortals tend to deify the dead, but there is nothing more to it than an emptiness that can never be filled. We thrive on emotions to substitute for the void and each of us has a different preference. I follow Albel because for my taste, he can provide plenty of and has no need for. I will follow him until I am satisfied or he is dead—the same thing I now do for you."

Fayt suddenly felt his body grown numb. All of the pain he felt drained out from his wounds like they never were. He attempted to sit up, but Romero quickly gestured for him to stay still.

"That will be unwise, for you are still injured despite what you feel. I can take away the pain, but by no means can I heal things that are torn and broken. I am a demon, not a healer."

Epiphany hit Fayt with the force of a Thunderbolt spell. "Even wounded, as long as one feels no pain, one can keep fighting. Romero… you thrive on pain."

Romero nodded. "Yes, the perfect warrior." He glanced at the door once again and his countenance became akin to sadness. "It is a double-edged sword, for I cannot exist in this mortal plane without it. We follow what sustains us so that we might finish what was left incomplete when we died. But that which we feed upon are the very vices and pains of those who still live."

"What was left incomplete? What is your purpose for still being here?"

"I apologize, but I cannot tell you. Death is like sipping a cup of wine and forgetting all you ever knew."

Fayt fixed Romero a hard stare. "Your name is not truly Romero, is it?"

Romero smiled. "It is. However, that has not always been the case."

"Then who are you?"

"An ally. Back from the dead to serve Destruction and douse the cold flames of apathy I failed to extinguish in life," softly hissed Romero. "Death ruined my life, but fate was kind enough to lend me a new one.

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A dark figure sat against a pillar in a room filled with computer screens and crisscrossed wires. A screen lit up the floor next to him and bathed the room with a sickly blue light. Bright golden hair contrasted sharply against the black armor it fell against and metallic blue eyes were transfixed on the screen.

The screen projected the image of a blue-haired youth, smiling, fuming, crying, and glaring defiantly as white circles of power surrounded him. To the dark man, it was all beautiful. He reached out a trembling hand as if to touch the face on the screen, but the image only shattered into a million fragments.

"What is it you want, my black knight?" A voice, seductive and cruel, ripped him from his reverie and chilled his blood like poison. "Why do you seek power, child? It is not a taste meant to pass your lips and burn in your hands."

"F-Fayt…" The name was a whimpered plea as the knight tried to gather the broken pieces that held the precious image for him, mindless of their blood-stained surface and the icy tears that streamed down his face.

A woman stepped out of the gloom, her crimson lips turned up in a cruel smile as she raised a hand. The shard of glass levitated from the ground to encircle the knight with Fayt's image reflected from even the smallest surface.

"What you desire is so simple and so pure, yet you know that your love would do nothing but destroy him." She stepped forward and tilted his chin up, amused that such a blank face could hold such emotion in its eyes. "You have been abandoned and you have been confined. Yet you have the gall to be selfish and tainted in your pursuits. But I have accepted you freely and I embody your salvation."

The knight shifted his gaze to her, his eyes fixated on the glowing violet wings that shadowed a face he had never seen. He could remember very little and lived through desire along, but even an automaton would recognize and obey the voice of the devil. She held his soul in her hands, the price of granting his wish, for the wish was an impossible one.

Even if she should free him, he would have nowhere to go, for he no longer belonged to himself. So intent was he to be needed that he lost everything else, from his pride to his memories, and even his name. All except for that one painful memory the devil chose to have him retain. One face and one name to torment him for the rest of his days.

"What is your name?" smiled the shadowy woman as she ran tortuous nails through his golden hair.

"Black Knight," replied the man flatly.

"Oh, but that is not your name, child. Do you not remember? Should I give you back your name?"

The metallic blue eyes began to grow clearer. "I… don't want…"

The woman drew crimson lips near his ear as if to whisper a secret, but her tone was as savage as one ripping out another's heart. It was a quiet moment before the hellish screams pierced the night.

"Your name… is…"

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"Luther!" shouted Fayt, eyes wild as he shot out of bed and knocked a vase of crimson flowers to the floor. He paid it no heed as his bare feet touched the cold floor. Frost also permeated the air and morning dew turned the window into something akin to shattered glass. He then took a step forward, but his legs, weak from a week of disuse, failed to carry his weight. He folded like a newborn lamb and winced as he jarred the healing tears on his back. He had not expected Romero's panacea to be permanent, but the empty numbness and the sudden reintroduction of forgotten pain made him forego seeking the spirit again. He made to get up, but a mocking voice made him freeze where he lay.

"How's the view from down there?"

Fayt squinted to see a lanky figure draped across the white sofa at the corner of his room. The morning sun shone too brightly and cast shadows upon the man and prickling Fayt's eyes like pins.

"Poor little worm. Now you can't even get up."

With a grimace, Fayt reached up and pulled himself onto the bed once more. "May I ask what brings you here, your majesty?"

"Don't be an idiot and drop the title, fool." Albel glowered at Fayt's lack of reaction towards his taunts and insults. "The big oaf insisted that I come here to pay my respects. Unfortunately, I may have arrived a little too soon and you're not dead yet."

Fayt turned his face away as memories came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. He bit his lip and gripped the white sheets in the realization that Ameena was truly dead. "I don't remember too much—just enough to know that I failed. I couldn't defend this country alone."

"Yes," Albel nodded in affirmation. "You were brought in plucked and fried like a chicken."

Fayt sighed at the confirmation of his weakness, fully aware that Albel already knew his uselessness. However, he was not expecting the surprisingly warm hand to rest against the back of his neck. Albel drew his face to within inches of Fayt's own, daring the other to look away. Fayt felt the other's warm breath in their close proximity and he could see the words forming before Albel had even given them life.

"Who's Luther?" Fayt escaped interrogation before, but Albel will have none of it this time.

The blue-haired boy was silent for long moments as he studied the man before him before. After an eternity, he sighed and began to speak. "Luther is my older brother, the first prince of Aquaria. Men born of the royal family are kept out of the public's eye because of the matriarchy, but that is only part of the reason. The rune circlet does not agree with us and in the past had caused many a prince to grow mad and destructive. But this reason is kept hidden from the people lest we face even further alienation.

"When my brother was young and before I was born, it was said that Apris spoke through him and because of it, he was blessed and protected. But it was only once and as time passed, Luther grew weary of this sheltered life. When he said that Apris spoke to him again three years ago, he left to join the army as a commander. But a fact only know to me was that he lied in order to get away. He wanted me to go with him, but I refused. I could bear to have our mother lose both her sons. That was the last I saw of him until that man in black appeared." Throughout his narration, Fayt's voice grew raspy with unspoken confusion and guilt.

"And you?" asked Albel. "What speaks through you?"

Fayt visibly started at the question. "Pardon?"

"Don't lie to me," warned Albel as his eyes narrowed. "Those wings that I heard burst through your back can only be god-granted. Who have you spoken to? Who stopped you from going with your beloved brother to traipse across the countryside?"

Fayt closed his eyes. He knew that the question would come up one day, but the swordsman was much sharper than he previously thought. "Everyone expected me to follow Luther's footsteps and have Apris speak to me. But I knew that lofty goals and the power to change the world were just completely foreign to me despite how much I try to understand them. I prefer to try to make life better for my people without endangering others."

"So have you?"

Fayt met Albel's calculating gaze. "Have I what?"

Albel grinned. "Spoken to Apris? Spoken to a god? Do you already have a place to exercise those wings in paradise?"

"No… and yes."

The mystifying answer startled Albel and his grip on the back of Fayt's neck tightened considerably. He had only asked the question in jest and an affirmative answer was the furthest thing from his mind. "I see what you mean by madness." He tried to make light of the situation, but the hard, green gaze that pinned him in place held no humor. "If not Apris…"

Fayt's smile was hopelessly bitter. "Folstar's domain would hardly be paradise. There is no pride in my existence, only destruction."

Albel stared at Fayt, transfixed by the presence of the god of death in what seemed like an innocent soul. He smiled, intrigued, as he leaned closer to his captive. The grip he had on Fayt's neck loosened and he brushed short blue locks out of the way with a steel digit. "You magnificent fool."

Albel kissed Fayt lightly, lips merely touching, but adrenaline rushed through his body from something so simple. He knew that kissing Fayt would be like drinking poison. For all its clarity, its sweet smell, and its divine taste, one's heart would stop beating once it has run through their system.

Fayt knew that Albel's kiss would be just like the man himself, all fire and no subtlety. Even the light connection was like facing live steel and the warm breath that fanned over his face was as torrid as the flames from a forge. But it was comforting in a way that was real.

Neither of them was surprised by the uncharacteristic action, but for the first time in the span of their association, Albel's eyes were not the sharp, ruby shards of a caged animal. He broke the kiss softly, hesitantly, before he buried his face in the crook of Fayt's neck that still showed the red scar from the rune transfer. "So that is the taste of destruction?"

"You should have no fear of the repercussion of the rune circlet's curse, Albel. You're already quite destructive and mad enough as you are."

"Since when have you had the nerve to talk back to me, maggot?"

Fayt smiled at the King of Aquaria, who currently looked more like a child than the battle-toughened warrior he was. He would have patted Albel's head, but the pain lancing through his back till restricted his movements. "You are full of questions today, your highness."

The irritated growl of lips against the scar told Fayt all he needed to know.

"Apology accepted, Albel."

Albel's face was devoid of smirks for the rest of his visit.

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"What are you saying?" Cliff's eyes narrowed as he slammed a fist on the table, rattling teacups and spilling a crystal vase filled with white flowers to the floor.

Romero looked at the large blond man coolly. "Fayt said that the man he had fought was Luther."

"No way! There is no way that Prince Luther would attack his own kingdom! You can't say that he would so callously kill that little girl when you know nothing about him!"

It was a rare human who could make Romero's temper rise. "We may not know anything, but how much do you yourselves know about one hidden away? What if he was jealous that another has ascended upon a throne that should have been his and seeks revenge?"

Mirage grabbed Cliff's shirt before he could lunge at Romero. "Prince Luther would never do such a thing! He loved Prince Fayt more than anything."

"Yes… too much, from what I can see," murmured Romero as his eyes grew distant. "But you cannot discount the fact that his highness himself was the one who believed that that knight was his own brother."

"Then why would Luther attack?" asked Adray as he helped Mirage muscle Cliff back to his seat.

"I don't know!" Cliff growled. "The only one who could possibly even begin to understand Prince Luther would be—"

"That maggot, but I got nothing from him." Albel entered the room and slammed the door behind him. He took a seat at the head of the table. "So, what to do?"

"We're currently at a loss," said Mirage as she held her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. "Prince Luther is the person we would have imagined wanting to attack Aquaria."

"Is it true that Apris spoke to him?" asked Albel, but the confused expressions that greeted him showed that hearing this little fact was new to them as well. But when he spared a glance at Adray, the large man smiled but averted his gaze. "We can't sit here and do nothing. This city will have to get stronger for that won't be the last we see of that bastard."

"Prince Fayt—"

Albel scowled, drew his sword with a flash and sliced the table before them in two. "Have you forgotten that I am now the king of this peaceful little nation? I won't let that fool take on this burden on his own as part of it is now my responsibility. He made it my responsibility. Now if your kind prince is abnormally behaving like a maniac, then there is probably something behind it. If it's that circlet, then we simply cut his head off."

Mirage, Adray and Cliff were prepared to make a sound of violent protest while Romero only gave a clandestine smile. However, their complaints fell to deaf ears as Albel continued on. "But if something is controlling him, then we find it, kill it, crush it, and then go off on our merry way. Now if someone could just tell me… where the hell is IT?"

The door to the room slammed open and the bleeding, broken, weaponless figures of Belzeber and Berial fell through, having rejected the help of the guards and healers that surrounded them. The others in the room rose swiftly to their fee and grabbed their weapons in surprise.

"What are you maggots doing here?!" roared Albel as he pointed the Crimson Scourge to the two men.

Belzeber's first attempt at speaking was hindered as he vomited blood onto the formerly pristine floor. He glared up at Albel with his one good eye left and forced the words out between his torn lips. "Airyglyph has… fallen! Lord Vox is dead! Killed by a black knight… who said Aquaria is next to fall! Lord Vox sent… us here to warn you." With that, Belzeber fainted dead away.

Berial wasn't looking much better as his blackening arms dangled uselessly and his voice rasped from a crushed windpipe. "We can't say we come in peace, but as you can see, there is not much we can do."

"There not much of you left!" shouted Adray as he took in the bleeding gashes on Berial's head where his ears used to be. He raised his hands and began the long healing process. "Can you even hear me?"

Berial shook his head. "No, but I can read your lips."

"Despite your affiliation, you are a talented man. What did the attackers want?" asked Mirage.

"The key of destruction. They want to open the doors to the Shrine of Kaddan," hissed Berial.

In the wake of Berial and Belzeber's abrupt entrance, only Albel noticed that Romero was gone.

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End Chapter Five

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Author's Notes:

This is not a dead fic. Now I will run away before you all kill me.