bitter water // dreamnotfound

fifteen

the day had finally arrived.

This was going to be his life-changing moment, he just knew it. Years and years of bitterness and jealousy had built up, overwhelming him and winning over his thoughts. He had been planning for ages. Every single detail was etched into his brain, tinted journal paper swamped in discarded ideas he had gone over time and time again. The unwarranted envy towards his brother would finally be resolved. He would ultimately be praised and acknowledged. He would finally be first in line to be the next king.

To Clay, getting crowned king was much more than just the power aspect. More than honor and riches. He would finally get paid attention to. Sure, he was thrilled to get anything and everything he wanted at the mere utter of a word, but he craved recognition. He wanted people to notice him, to see him sitting atop the glittering throne and adore him. He could imagine it now. The chanting of "King Clay!"

Emotions were never a thing of importance to Clay. He admitted that he essentially only felt jealousy, revulsion, and hatred, but he didn't care. He was seeking to find something new: satisfaction. When Eret would be rid of the throne and Clay would be perched upon it laughing, then he would be content. Sitting on his bedside, the morning brilliant and promising, he was feeling something that he didn't know how to describe other than excitement. It wasn't normal excitement, it was a vile, unsettling excitement. He was inspired to not only be in the eyesight of the crown but also to see the disastrous reactions of his family and the kingdom. Clay was aware that it wasn't typical to think this way, but he felt as if there wasn't anything he could do about it. He didn't want to do anything about it. He savored the sensation of unprecedented, twisted pleasure.

It was amusing to him. Right now, everything was serene and tranquil. However, at the end of the day, the kingdom would be heavy with frivolous tragedy. To them, it would be the worst thing that could have ever possibly happened. To Clay, it would be excellent.

Once more, the sinister prince studied the dagger, tracing his finger delicately over the engravings in the handle. What a shame it was to use such an artistic object to commit such an unspeakable act. He noticed his reflection in the pristine blade. His expression was that of a classic fairytale villain. It even shook him up a little, knowing that his reflection would soon be suffocated in his brother's blood to the point where he'd be anything but recognizable. Clay quickly resheathed the knife and took one last look at the amicable, sparkling kingdom. It would be no more in the coming hours.

---

When you are born into royalty, a lot is demanded of you. But you never asked for this, so why should it be your responsibility? This was something that Karl often thought about. He knew he would be so much better off being born to a typical family. One that grew crops and struggled to barely make it through the winter. It sounded so bittersweet, but he desired something other than constant praise. He was so sick of having his every need treated to him, he was never allowed to do anything by himself. His mind had romanticized the idea of running away to the point of no escape. It was all he wanted. Just a life more significant than this.

It was strange. He knew so many people would do so much to live his life. They'd trade in an instant. And so would he. They wanted to live in a prince's shoes, he wanted to live somewhere where his soul didn't feel trapped. He felt wrong. Of course, he loved his mother, his father, his newfound friends from the village, and even his brothers. But he couldn't help but wish for a life where he could live without thinking about such things. A life where he could go anywhere he pleased without having to ask for permission. A life where he could live how he wanted.

The only thing stopping him from actually running away was the immense guilt that would follow in quick pursuit. He was prone to feeling blameworthy for anything and everything; even things that weren't originally his fault at all. Things he was never even involved in. Karl was fully aware that if he packed a bag and fled the walls, he would come back the next hour sobbing. That was one of the reasons he never attended gatherings and was rarely seen out and about. If he passed an elderly man pleading for just a single coin, he would think about it all day, and the next, and the next after that. He resented it.