a king walks among us
Darkness closes in on the shadow. Across the plains he runs, close to the river, he hears it like his own heart thrumming in his ears. Can’t stray too far from her, close, close, stay close. He nears its shoreline and shies away, charging at the frost-hardened soil by sheer force of will along. A wound throbs somewhere, blood long since congealed and dry. Skin sewing itself back together. Hunger sowing itself in him. More blood, different blood, thrums through a heart somewhere else. He can hear it. Feel it, like the river, almost, like his own heart. No, he says, no, no, no. This isn’t right. For how long have I been a monster? For how long must I continue to be one in the eyes of my countrymen, my own cousin? And this - now I will never escape it. I will be a monster to everyone. He yearns to stop it somehow, to starve himself, but dying has been off the table for much too long now and he can only press forward, forward, and back to the water, the shoreline, and - he trips - into the water.
No. No. Don't. Let me live. Live. Stay the same, as I was, not any different - Something changes. Longer limbs, sharper fangs. The black mare is laughing somewhere, he can almost hear it. He can hear it. He wants to scream. But he is drowning - thinks he is - splashing frantically in the shallow river’s edge, water up to his knees only. He feels it consuming him. Let me out, he cries, silently, let me out.
I don’t want to be a monster anymore.
@Leto
”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,
