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31_days2007-02-28 11:00 pm
galerian-ash.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-02-28 11:00 pm
[2007-02-06] [Original] Brothers
Title: Brothers
Day/Theme: Wild children
Series: None, this is a complete one-shot
Character/Pairing: Cherno and Belo
Rating: PG
“The King is dead, long live the King!” The call echoed through the desolate hall, and Cherno watched with stunned silence as the glistening crown was handed to Belo. Belo, his foster brother, an orphan child that his father had taken in when believing he’d never sire a child of his own.
Belo’s eyes widened and he let out a small noise of disbelief, gesturing towards Cherno. But no, the high priest made it clear that Belo was indeed the rightful heir; according to the late king. Cherno felt the emotions swirling in his chest, dragging him under; pain over the loss of his father, confusion over not being chosen, and an unreasonable hate towards his brother.
Belo had taken care of him, shown him what love was, and had never been jealous when he was spoiled by his mother or treated like the true prince. He loved Belo, more than anything else in the world. But this, this he couldn’t stomach. It was like a betrayal, even if he knew it not to be truly so.
He couldn’t bear the shame. He hadn’t measured up, hadn’t been good enough. His honor was dragged through the dirt, the laughing stock of whispering subjects everywhere. Belo tried to make it up to him, though he never offered to step down. “He was my father too,” he’d said, when Cherno had spoken in anger. “I cannot refuse his last wish, even if it means that I lose you.”
The wound festered, growing more and more infected day by day. The poisonous pus would soon leak through, he knew it. He tried to leave, in the dead of the night; like a common thief. But Belo, who knew him better than he knew himself, cut off his path. The newly-made king didn’t say a word, just looked at him with eyes that said it all. He might have wept then, and he might even have let Belo embrace him for a split second before he tore free with a spat curse. He couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember.
He finally lost it on the day it was decided that Belo should marry the princess of the neighboring country. She was the foreign king’s only child, so a marriage between them would be highly beneficial in expanding the kingdom. Belo didn’t refuse the idea, only hesitating to meet Cherno’s glare before accepting. And though Cherno knew deep down that his brief glance had shown nothing but immense regret, the anger he felt made him miss it entirely.
“Brother,” he said that same night, “I shall miss you.” Belo just smiled sadly, nodding and closing his eyes. He didn’t make a sound when Cherno drove the sword through his stomach, but he did return the farewell kiss bestowed upon him. Cherno kissed him until all life had bled away, and only then did he let go. Belo slid to the floor, landing with a wet thud in the pool of red.
Cherno stepped over his body, eyes shining with a maniacal gleam — or perhaps the unnatural gleam from tears barely held back — and took the throne. He wouldn’t keep it for long, that he knew; since what country would want a mad king who had slayed his own brother? But the knowledge only served to please him, for he was eager to join Belo in hell.
Day/Theme: Wild children
Series: None, this is a complete one-shot
Character/Pairing: Cherno and Belo
Rating: PG
“The King is dead, long live the King!” The call echoed through the desolate hall, and Cherno watched with stunned silence as the glistening crown was handed to Belo. Belo, his foster brother, an orphan child that his father had taken in when believing he’d never sire a child of his own.
Belo’s eyes widened and he let out a small noise of disbelief, gesturing towards Cherno. But no, the high priest made it clear that Belo was indeed the rightful heir; according to the late king. Cherno felt the emotions swirling in his chest, dragging him under; pain over the loss of his father, confusion over not being chosen, and an unreasonable hate towards his brother.
Belo had taken care of him, shown him what love was, and had never been jealous when he was spoiled by his mother or treated like the true prince. He loved Belo, more than anything else in the world. But this, this he couldn’t stomach. It was like a betrayal, even if he knew it not to be truly so.
He couldn’t bear the shame. He hadn’t measured up, hadn’t been good enough. His honor was dragged through the dirt, the laughing stock of whispering subjects everywhere. Belo tried to make it up to him, though he never offered to step down. “He was my father too,” he’d said, when Cherno had spoken in anger. “I cannot refuse his last wish, even if it means that I lose you.”
The wound festered, growing more and more infected day by day. The poisonous pus would soon leak through, he knew it. He tried to leave, in the dead of the night; like a common thief. But Belo, who knew him better than he knew himself, cut off his path. The newly-made king didn’t say a word, just looked at him with eyes that said it all. He might have wept then, and he might even have let Belo embrace him for a split second before he tore free with a spat curse. He couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember.
He finally lost it on the day it was decided that Belo should marry the princess of the neighboring country. She was the foreign king’s only child, so a marriage between them would be highly beneficial in expanding the kingdom. Belo didn’t refuse the idea, only hesitating to meet Cherno’s glare before accepting. And though Cherno knew deep down that his brief glance had shown nothing but immense regret, the anger he felt made him miss it entirely.
“Brother,” he said that same night, “I shall miss you.” Belo just smiled sadly, nodding and closing his eyes. He didn’t make a sound when Cherno drove the sword through his stomach, but he did return the farewell kiss bestowed upon him. Cherno kissed him until all life had bled away, and only then did he let go. Belo slid to the floor, landing with a wet thud in the pool of red.
Cherno stepped over his body, eyes shining with a maniacal gleam — or perhaps the unnatural gleam from tears barely held back — and took the throne. He wouldn’t keep it for long, that he knew; since what country would want a mad king who had slayed his own brother? But the knowledge only served to please him, for he was eager to join Belo in hell.