A/N: This story is more me needing to get some depression out of my system than an actual thing I'm going to try hard at. It will be updated sporadically with varying quality, and it will take second place to prince Hak.

Drip

Drop

Drip

Drop

His face was as impassive as they get. A long, long time ago, he taught himself how to shutdown. This proved especially useful as the girl he had loved's blood dripped off his sword.

But he was not thinking of that. He was thinking of how red was such a pretty color. He was thinking of dyeing everything red, staining the entire world that beautiful color.

Someone was talking, somewhere. He was replying, but it wasn't him replying, it was whoever takes over when he wasn't okay.

Right now he was so, so far from okay.

Her body was being taken away, and he was thankful. But he couldn't, wouldn't deprive himself of one last glance, so he lifted her eyes, and saw her. She looked peaceful. Pale skin, long lashes fluttering above a smooth, porcelain face. Like a doll, almost.

The only thing ruining the picture was the dribble of crimson training from her lips.

Why was such a beautiful color such a mar on her beautiful face?

He went to his room.

He did not cry.

He did not cry.

The next morning there was a knock. A guard followed the knock, bringing news. "Hak is dead. Suicide. He saw the princesses body."

Unwelcome news.

"Leave." And the guard did.

He did not cry.

He had to be strong. Strong like his father. His invincible, untouchable father. His righteous, loving father.

What would his father think of him now?

He cried. After he cried, he slept.

When he woke, it was dark. When he woke, he got up.

And he walked across the room, and he saw her. In the corner, curled in the smallest ball she could possibly manage, was Yona.

He screamed.

Guards came, and the questions they asked he couldn't answer. Because her eyes, her violet eyes, were staring at him. Staring into him.

Eventually, they left, with promises to bring food and water and reminders of the five tribes meeting tomorrow.

But she stayed.

When the last guard had vanished, he slumped to the ground. She had curled up again, head to her knees, but the mop of tangled red hair was unmistakable.

"Yona?" He croaked. She looked up, but did not speak, and then she was gone. She was gone, and the next king of Kouka was left in a heap on the cold ground of a guest room in her castle.

He was at the five tribes meeting. Everything was going as expected, of course everyone but Mundok would agree.

'I'm sorry' He said, but it was only in his head. So he said it again and again and again to make up for it.

When everyone was leaving, he saw her. She stood in front of Mundok, with the most hopeful face ever and if his heart wasn't hidden behind layers of silk and steel, it would have broken. Because Mundok walked through her.

She looked as though she might cry. Instead, she gave him the deadliest glare he had ever been given, before disappearing.

He waited to scream until there was a nice pillow to absorb it.

It was three days until the coronation. Three days spent chasing wisps of red hair that would disappear around corners. Three days waking up and seeing, just for a split second, big eyes staring at him. Three days of hearing footsteps when there was no one, three days of being overcome with the flowery smell of her perfume whenever he was alone.

By the third day, he understood. He was going crazy. It was enough to make him laugh, and laugh, and laugh. He laughed till he choked, and he hoped it would kill him.

It didn't, so he went to the coronation and put on a show. He had always been good at that, so the coronation went smoothly, unlike everything else since the king had died by his hands.

Well, it went smoothly until she was beside him, staring out into the crowd with half-lidded eyes. It was the closest he had gotten to her since... Then. So he asked the question he had been dying to know the answer to.

"Why are you still here?"

Her eyes widen and she spun her head to him, as though it was surprising that he was there. "Because you won't let me leave." She smiles ruthfully and looks to the side as she answers with a voice as melodic as he remembered.

He leaves swiftly and hopes no one notices.

Darkness and splashes of red and white and screams and this was all he knew now. Sweat and tears and heat and god, was that Yona screaming? Or was it him? He tried to scream, but no new noise came so either he was already screaming or his voice had been the price.

The price of what? Her life? His kingdom?

Swords cut him, into small little teeny pieces and perhaps as this he'll find peace.

He doesn't.

The screaming comes closer and closer and closer and it's so so so near,

And then there is only his own ragged breathing.

He cracks his eyes open, and they meet amethyst.

"You have nightmares." She says, floating above him.

"Yes." He breathes out.

"It's your fault." She says.

"Yes."

She's gone. He's thankful.

She floats in corners, emerges from floors and closed doors. She's no longer attempting to keep up a semblance of humanity. Sometimes, she drips blood.

No one else sees.

He ignores her around others, he's gotten quite good at it. But alone, he screams and pleads and swears.

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE" He questions, one night when the guilt is like acid, eating at him.

"You've asked me this." She says, calmly.

"Why are you always so calm?! Why won't you ever cry?! Why don't you get mad!?" He screeches.

"Things are... Different when your dead. It's a lovely feeling. Perhaps you should try it?" She says that last part with a smile that has just a touch of insanity to it.

He almost does.