Fate

43: The War

3rd person perspective 

The war is long.

Those with power fight strong.

Those without fight hard. 

Both fight tirelessly. 

Many are dead. Many live on knowing it won't last forever. Soon they will join the fallen. Death is inevitable.

"Where is she? Where is my love?" His voice, so deep and threatening it is a wonder to all that the man holding his beloved captive doesn't cower in his presence. 

"You don't deserve the throne, Rouge. This war isn't singular. This is our chance to overthrow the corruption you lead us by. The war rages on but battles are still sparking." The man, despite being in close proximity of a creature with such power, stands strong. He ever dares to circle the chair that Vincent Rouge is tied so closely to.

"Take my throne! Take my throne for all I care. Just give me who I desire." It humbles the King to beg, but if he has to beg to have his love within his grasp, he will beg like a damned dog after a bone.

"It isn't that simple, King!" He spits, "I won't be accepted by your peers. I need all of their thrones. And once I kill you all, one by one, the world will by my own."

"I can't help you with that. I'm afraid the whereabouts of my friends are unknown to me, to many of us. They could be dead already for all I know." Vincent protests, clutching against the binds that contain him.

"Lies!" He hisses, baring his teeth.

"I swear. I tell the truth."

"If you won't be honest with me, I suppose there is only one way to force it out of you."  A smile graces his face, it is too stunning to smother his gruesome, distorted features. 

"Father, please! Do what he asks!" The higher tones of a younger boy ring through the room. 

"My son!" Vincent wails, tears welling in his eyes, "Not my son!"

"Father, he has Mother. He has my Ma!" The son cries, sobs wracking through his small body. He is fifteen, but even through his strong facade he doesn't have the ability to hide his fear.

"Let me free! Let me see to my family!" The King yells loudly into the man's ear. The son stands just behind, restrained by an anonymous figure. Vincent can't see him, he can't see that he is relatively unharmed. 

"Vincent." Her voice is like a song. It kills him to hear that melody again, so sweet, so beautiful a songbird couldn't live up to her symphony. His heart breaks for he knows her fate. He truly sees it now. Death is inevitable.

"My darling, my love." He cries. 

"Vincent, it is okay. Please, don't cry for me. I love you more than any tale could tell, I love you more than the stars and the sun and the moon themselves. I love you more than I could ever begin to-" Her song is interrupted by the guttural gasp of air leaving her throat. The gruesome squelch of blood cascading down her exposed neck. She falls to the floor, the gasping and gagging only growing louder and louder as she searches for oxygen. The gaping hole in her throat denies her request.

It begins as his own gasp, then the son of the King lets out a ferocious scream, it rips through his neck but he does not allow himself to feel the pain of it. The King is silenced by the agony he feels through the bond with is beloved. 

"You can hold her now." The mangled mess of his darling love is thrown cruelly into the lap of the King.

A roar echoes through the chamber.