The golden dagger tore through the paper with ruthless precision, shredding the portrait into tattered pieces. But the blade didn't stop. Slash after slash after slash… As though the steel itself shared the royal torment.
"How do you sleep, you wretched bastard," the Prince spat, "when I no longer haunt your dreams?"
The palace walls shuddered with the force of his voice. Servants hid behind columns, avoiding notice and pressing trembling hands to their mouths lest a single sound betray them.
"Fear not," he snarled, delivering another blow, "not even death will part us. Break your illusions, I always take what I desire!"
When the portrait could no longer be called a portrait, only a massacre of ink and parchment, the Prince let the dagger fall. It clattered against the marble, the echo thin and pathetic beside his rage.
"Wine!"
The command rang through the chamber, though it sounded more like a plea, a breath dragged from cracked ribs than a royal order.
A dozen servants scurried in, heads bowed low, each carrying a jug nearly as large as themselves.
The Prince snatched the first, swallowing its contents in a single furious pull.
The second jug he did not drink.
Instead, he poured it over the scattered remains at his feet, as though wine could drown memories the blade had failed to silence.
"You taught me sacrifice," he whispered to the stained scraps. "Give something good… to gain something better. So why…" His voice broke, "why did it have to be you?"
The jug flew across the room and shattered against a pillar.
Prince dropped to his knees, tears cutting down his face in uneven tracks, as if even grief struggled to find its way through him.
Not one servant dared move. They stood frozen, each imagining their own face replacing the one now lying in tatters.
In this desolate state, the Advisor found him.
"Your Highness," he ventured with cautious to disrupt the silence. "You should wake up, Your Highness."
"Back off!" The Prince's voice cracked, hoarse, even raw. He did not look up. "Just leave me; I'm in mourning."
But the Advisor stepped closer, bending until his lips nearly touched the Prince's ear.
"What do you want?" The Prince shoved at him weakly, but the motion held no strength. The Advisor didn't budge.
"In the Mortal Realm, Your Highness. Alive." His words were soft, yet, they detonated like thunder.
The Prince's head snapped upward. His eyes, bloodshot and half-mad, locked onto the Advisor's.
"Impossible!" he breathed. "This can't be…Him!"
The Advisor did not flinch.
The Prince surged to his feet so violently the servants shrank back as though struck.
He seized the Advisor's collar, yanking him close, forcing their gazes to lock. The Advisor did not look away. He met the Prince's wild eyes and gave a firm, unshaken nod, confirmation enough.
"I must see my father." His hand, still fisted in the Advisor's collar, trembled with a mix of desperation and grim resolve.
Only within few moments did his fist relent, releasing the Advisor as he swallowed the storm inside him.
"Prepare my robes. I leave at once."
*Thx for reading.