Tear Tarnished Angel

Four

Nathanael

I was terrified of the sky. I had only ever seen it through windows and it seemed endless like a sea one could drown in. I would lay in the sun of the window but face away from the outside so I would not have to look up into the sky. Due to this I laid like a cat, stretched out on a green fainting couch in front of the largest window in the cabin, drowsy and comfortable. 

A day had passed since I learned that I was going to die. A day had passed since my father, grieved with my anger, chastised me. Anger was no emotion for a prince or a King to display, that was allowing the emotion to control you instead of you controlling it. I was not to show such feelings at my fate.

Today Drefan came home from a nearly yearlong trip north. I did not know why or how, but that he had gone north and came home. Why did he have to come back? It wasn’t that I disliked him, but the house was much more peaceful without him here. I could remember yelling and arguing at all hours of the night. I remembered Thom distraught one evening, coming to me, keeping me from going into the basement. I learned later from overhearing that Drefan had cut himself, deep this time, and had been bleeding in his room until his mother had bound the wounds. 

But I shouldn’t think bad things about Drefan. His family was that much happier when he was around, especially Thom. I just didn’t understand why Drefan did the things he did. Why did he cut himself? Wouldn’t that just hurt and nothing more? What did he see in pain? What did he want from it? 

I looked through the window at the Sovereign Guard who sat on the front porch steps. There were always at least two guards on duty at the cabin, but both of them stuck close to the front and back doors. Two from Royale, and two from Camar’a. The two from Camar’a were part of the Sovereign Guard, they protected the royal family and could be recognized by their uniforms. A gold, black, and aqua brocade coat over a gold and aqua vest beneath, layered over the aqua tights that slipped into black knee-high leather boots.

My eyes strayed to the kitchen which was the second door to my right. The kitchen knives were all held in a wooden holder. Standing, shaking, my blanket fell to my feet as I looked around our living room at the wooden furniture and coffee table. The walls were covered in small paintings of my ancestors. I walked into the kitchen, the un-shaded windows providing the only light. Taking a large knife from the holder, I curiously stared at it, and then my forearm. 

Laying it against the skin of my lower left arm I chewed on my lip letting it slice. All thought left my body; I gasped a whine also escaping my lips, finding at that moment that I drew pleasure from pain. I found out later that my eyes would be blood-red as they are every time I experience pain. I could see nothing but a haze of red, but I could hear.

A knock at the front door.

Fumbling, the kitchen knife slid through my blood-soaked fingers to clatter to the kitchen floor. Blood sprayed from the blade over the tile as my eyes came into focus, to stare at what I had done. Then in slow motion, my eyes moved from the blade to the bubbling red froth upon my arm. It began to flow thick like syrup, rolling off my pale flesh to drop to the floor below.

         Drip…Drip…Drip….

The headstone was simple, as the far more embellished one, fit for the King that Robert had been, was in the Royalian royal graveyard.

Thom held me in his arms, and I looked up at him, at his normally bright green eyes, now subdued. Even in his exhaustion and the pain of losing his father, Thom still tried to smile for me. Always. He was always strong for me.
“It will be alright Nate,” Thom whispered and it was not that he lied, for he believed what he said, but I could hear his sorrow. Thom had always been an optimist; he tried his hardest to always smile, so he could bring out the joy of others, too. My smiles are for you, Thom. It’s because of you that I smile still, years later. Even when I realize how alone I am now, your memories remain. You were always smiling, always tender, and you always called me that. Nate.

Thom pressed a kiss to my brow, looking back to the gravestone beneath the willow-tree. Prince Drefan turned away from both his family and my own, his hands clenched in fists by his sides. One of his arm’s swept out, summoning a portal of darkness right there, in front of my parents not caring about the consequences. He knew this was contested grounds, and that the Royalians were not to invoke the darkness in this meadow or take the chance of breaking the treaty between our two Empires. My father, King Peter made a move to angrily grab the Royalian Prince but missed. The sudden summoning of the Void startled the Camarian Queen, my mother, who stumbled back and away. In attempts to calm my father, my parent’s lover, Sir A’trious settled a hand on my father’s shoulder. But the venomous words were already out for all to hear, “Traitarous Warlock!” 

It mattered little though, Drefan was already gone and the darkness was collapsing in on itself and dispersing. My eyes darted upward to my beloved and all I saw was hurt. Why did Drefan act this way?? Robert’s royal concubine and Drefan’s mother-Aidna wrapped her arms around us both as Thom was wracked with sobs. Do you not realize what you’re doing by pushing him away Drefan? By making Thom forget, he doesn’t understand what is going on any better than I do! You are going to be all alone…

~~~
“Tell Thom what your Father has been doing, now; show him the scars as proof. He will understand better, and then he won’t judge you Drefan!”

“If I did that he would change, Thom’s dislike of me would turn into hate for our father. I do not want him to have to remember what that son-of-a-bitch has been doing to us, do you not understand that?! He should not have to endure the nightmares I do-of the things that bastard has put us through! I’d rather Thom come to hate me if it leaves his ignorance intact. Regardless of what it costs me, he’s worth it. I promised him.”
~~~

I know that means I’m not allowed to tell him either…
But what else can I do?

I’m nine.
I’m sorry Drefan. I’m sorry Thom.
I wish I was older.

I wish I could understand.
I wish… I wish I could do more than this. 
But I don’t know-how.