you are a murderer,
no matter how beloved
no matter how beloved
It was a serious matter, but Abrin couldn’t help but crack a bit of a smile at Luvena talking about the firstborns owing her a blessing. It wasn’t that he doubted her, more that he agreed perhaps and enjoyed her willingness to comment that the world had cut her short too many times. She was owed repentance from the firstborns and Abrin wouldn’t have been surprised if she ended up being the sort of creature that would claim that favor even if she must shake the heavens to do so.
It was her next question that surprised him a little bit. He met her gaze. Abrin could understand her grief, her frustration at the firstborns. Heretic was unpredictable, made from pure, unbridled chaos, but no one ever expected Heretic to save them. To worship and pray to a divine being with the utmost reverence, only to have them look upon your suffering and be unmoved? It made Abrin believe that the firstborns were crueler than Heretic himself.
As he listened, his brain churned on the question she had presented him. Did he regret being king? It wasn’t a question he had ever let himself linger on much. Abrin didn’t do too much during his short reign, but he kept the Heretics together - for better or for worse. “No. No, I don’t regret it. To have had the opportunity to cause chaos and be the one orchestrating it all? I could never regret it.” It was a half-truth. He gave her a bit of a playful grin in an attempt to make it all the more believable. Abrin knew fully well that his rule was a jumbled mess in his heart. Regret wasn’t something that he tied to being king, but it certainly was a feeling that was inextricably coupled to a few events that had occurred during that time. Through and through, that stallion was and will always be a creature who thrived in chaos, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed suffering. Suffering and chaos may often be linked, but they are independent systems. Sure, Abrin can be a tyrannical, sadistic, wicked creature, but such traits only reared their nasty heads when it was their turn in the little game. They were simply actors in this grand play.
The fallen king wished that were the same for those that had followed him. Heretic had wanted chaos, and with that Abrin was content, but so many had taken it further than that. Actions he had endorsed, that he had a helping hand in, left his stomach-churning. Abrin knew perfectly well that a tight leash would get him bit, and oh what sharp teeth those of the Heretics had.
It was after a small moment of silence with his gaze shifting back out to the water that Abrin let words hum from his dark lips, “I do not envy you, little bird. Heretic may have not been kind, but not once have I ever believed they were to be relied on. For a godly being to feign love for its followers then abandon them in their time of need? That is perhaps crueler than anything Heretic had ever done.” He looked back at Luvena, “Would you have still followed them if you knew what was to happen?”
