Ashes of Cinder

36

"There's nothing to talk about," the Prince deadpanned. Sweat matted his forehead and he no longer looked so princely. His eyes darting back and forth, this did not go unnoticed by Blaise. My, my, my. It was satisfying to take it all in. The man before him was still the cowardly kid he knew from years ago. Nothing truly ever changed, did they? He was still a sad excuse of a man, useless in every manner regarding to his life.

"Oh, but there is," Blaise retorted, blinking at him owlishly. "Tell me, dear friend, how did it feel to backstab me? Was it not you who had framed me to have me tossed to the streets?"

Cameron was silent at the accusation, his face ridden of guilt and that was enough to confirm it. To this, the brunet's expression instantly twisted in rage, his green eyes darkening to the point they were almost black. An ugly and terrifying sight it was, he looked like a whole new person. He took a step forward, and another... and another. Prowling through the grounds like a monster, he trained his eyes on his old friend. As anyone else would, the blond male shrunk backwards, fear prominent in his eyes. "Don't come any closer to me."

It was unexpected, but Blaise listened to him and halted right in place. He then let out a laugh that chilled Cameron to the core. "Why do you look so afraid for? We used to be friends. Practically brothers even! Come on now, don't be shy," he said, looking pleased with himself. "Give me your side of the story. Explain to me why you chose to do such a thing."

Droplets fell from the ceiling of the cells, echoing hollowly throughout the passageway. For a moment, he thought the Prince wouldn't say anything, but he was pleasantly surprised.

A staggering breath left the royal's mouth as he lowered his head. "I did frame you. I was jealous of you, because mother and father were more fond of you than they ever were of their own son. They compared all my wrongdoings to you, making you out to be some angel child. But you're not, Blaise. You were never a good child. Back then you were already a little deranged, making us do insane things that hurt us. You would also hurt me. I was the only one who ever saw that side of you. Everyone else bought your act.

"So I came to a conclusion: you needed to be gone from my life. It had been in the back of my mind for months, but there was one day that crossed the line for me. I went to think up of a plan to finally get you kicked out once and for all. Asking you to run an errand for me, I snuck a certain artifact without your notice and sent you away. What was inside it was my mother's precious necklace, something that was invaluable and passed down through generations of the royal family. I quickly went to tell my parents that you had stolen something and ran away... the rest is history.

"But you have to understand Blaise," he whispered, desperation leaking into his voice. "I... I was a child! I didn't know any better."

The hazel haired male could remember that day like it was yesterday. He could remember strolling through the streets, excited to be alone and like a grown up. He could remember entering a market to go and buy the fruits his best friend had wanted, only to be chased after by guards on his tail. Struggling in his small body as the men lifted him by his arms, he was carried back to the palace, his cries unheard of within ears. He was confused and scared, but soon found himself in a trial. His backpack was ripped from him and torn to shreds as they searched for the missing artifact. Then the found it. The golden, wretched thing laid there on the ground for all to see.

What he could remember most was the betrayal on the king and queen's faces, hurt and disappointment etched clearly like a permanent mark. Though it wasn't his doing, the guilt he felt in his heart was immeasurable. They were the closest things to parents for him, but for the second time in his life, he had lost those dear to him.

Because they cared for him, they gave mercy to him and did not throw him in prison. Instead, he was sent out of the palace immediately, back to where he belonged: the streets.