Please, please, please live.
He prayed to every god he knew. Desperate people find faith in the bleakest of moments. They'd cling to any prayer, and any god willing to listen. So even Tristan Arseni learned how to pray in the past twenty seven hours. And, like the Alaries, he was not a religious person.
He could feel Naoto suffering, trying to live. His young body was being burned by the potent drugs that were chugged on his system just so he could live, even a few seconds more. He wonders if it would even be worth it to see his son boiling away in drugs in his last moments. Many needles were pierced in his small, delicate arm it was almost black and blue by now.
Outside, the streets were decorated in banners, in bright colors— celebrating the ascent of the new King Marco di Carita, and the fall of the evil tyrant King Auguste. There was a grand parade that he should have been a part of. Everyone was celebrating while in contrast, Tristan Arseni felt his whole world crumbling as he knew it.
They won the battle, but Tristan felt as if he lost the entire damned war.
"... Dad," He immediately looked up, to his son who was staring at him with heavy lids and bleary lilac eyes. "You're still here? Don't you have work?"
That was like a punch in the gut. Naoto always waits up for him at home. Always asks him to play with him. But his glaring resemblance to his mother....
Even in his deathbed, he feels as if Naoto will say "it's okay dad. go save people out there."
"Dad, I really want to live ......" His tears were streaming down his face by now, as he held Naoto's hand. "I really, really want to live...."
"but ..... it .... hurts so much.... I'm sorry Dad...."
YOU ARE READING
Requiem
RomanceSeoris Series Book 1: Requiem "The dead don't talk, or do they?" When the tyrant king forced him to marry Princess Dhalia di Carita, he was gritting his teeth as he vowed vengeance. He was convinced that she was a vile woman, a puppet to her father...
