you're the king and i'm a lionheart.

If we kissed:

[] This wouldn’t happen.

[] Oh disgusting.

[] Again, again.

[] Kiss you back.

[] Let’s take this to the bedroom.

[] Slap/Push you away.

If you asked me out I’d say:

[] Um no.

[] YES.

[] HOLY ASDFGHJK YESSSSS.

Can we cuddle?:

[] No.

[] Ew.

[] Sure.

[] YES.

Sex?:

[] Let’s do it.

[] No. You can’t handle my d.

[] FUCK YES.

[] No.

Should you reblog this?:

[] Yes. I want to send you one.

[] Yes.

Freyr knew that this kind of conversation would lead to nowhere. However, he simply couldn’t let Alistair go this way. It was hard to talk to his parents and the Council, but they simply decided to cast him aside. It was easier. They’d shut his mouth by revoking his privileges, they’d shut his mouth by forcing him to live in disgrace. But that was fine. That was fine, because he never felt like he was truly alive. 

He noticed later that none of the Cantorixes really ‘lived’. They were moving corpses, they were ‘beings’ that lived under the wrong belief. A belief that twisted and turned them into what they are now. 

Talking to the Council didn’t hurt as much. But Alistair… he was the closest thing to a companion that he had, at least back then. His ‘brother’, if you’d say so.

But how could he convince the future head of the Cantorixes, if he more than anyone else was corrupted by that toxic way of thinking? The demon took one, two, three steps towards him. And his face was completely serious.

- Is your duty breaking him? I am only talking to you now because you are the only person that I feel it is worth rescuing. 

And you’re the same person who will never understand. What I am telling you is what I’ve seen our family doing - is what I’ve seen you doing.

Aren’t you giving him the same treatment we both went through?

And yet you think it is ‘necessary’? 

This won’t make him a good king.

It will only break him. And you’re speeding up the process. 

I want you to change into someone who can see what your parents and your family are doing to you.

Because you were once someone I could call a brother. 

His own reaction to the man was shameful. Nothing should cause him to have an emotional response, not even Freyr's repeated attempts at convincing him to turn against his own family. Freyr's words meant nothing, after all. Alistair would never listen to them, would never fall this far. He would never betray the family's mission.

"Don't insult our methods. I am teaching him not to break. Were he to break from training that you and I endured as children far younger than he, he would not be worthy of the crown at all. I am 'putting him through' this for his own benefit, and for the benefit of the kingdom.

You may have betrayed us, but surely you should still understand that this is necessary to create a king strong enough to rule. Or did you forget everything we were taught as children? Perhaps you've forgotten that it made me stronger, even if you were incapable of learning properly."

He took a deep breath, forcing his annoyance away. He was above this. He was certainly above the kind of emotional outbursts that Freyr had succumbed to.

… Do you think realizing what is wrong with your situation is foolishness? 

The problem is that I do understand. I understand it too well. More than I ever wished to. Perhaps the one who ‘does not understand’ here is you. 

You think you do, but you keep dancing to their tune. I am not fit for something like destroying a young man’s mind, I am not fit for manipulating and controlling said person. ‘Your duty’ is doing whatever is more convenient for yourselves. It isn’t about what is best for the kingdom. It isn’t about what is best for your King. You are calling me a disappointment because I do not accept the way you do things. I told this to your parents once.

You are just like them.

I do not understand? I understand my duty. I understand that there are things far more important than selfish desires, and that one person's wishes, life, or mind do not outweigh the future of the kingdom. We do what we must to protect the crown and country. Whether you "accept" it or not, that is reality.

- “He is… fine company, I suppose. When I fell, I was surprised he chose to follow me out of his own accord. Since I can no longer see what I create and what is outside, he serves as my eyes and ears to the outside world. 

I tease him every so often, but it is because it’s interesting to try and force reactions out of him. He is someone I can trust. Someone who will be with me until the very end of this world.

They’ll have to:

Rate on a scale of 1-10 how much they don’t want to answer that question.

He was alone again. He was forced to swallow his own words, his own confession, his own feelings. Well, it wasn’t the first time. But now that left him extremely tired.  - “……….” Perhaps it was just the events of the day catching up to him. Whatever rest he had was followed by disturbing dreams, so that… didn’t classify as rest at all, right? Hopefully that was the same reason why he was feeling increasingly irritated, black feelings inside of him furiously getting to a boiling point.  Would he be able to keep his screams bottled in this time, or was the way his hands were still shaking, how he could feel his whole body hot with pure rage telling otherwise?  No. Calm down. Nothing good will come if you get irritated, today was a long day, and you lost. You lost important things, and you are just irritated because—-

"You are confused."

The sound of a nearby vase violently hitting the door where Alistair just exited from was heard, cringing his teeth as tightly as he could. The small pieces hitting the ground, water spilling from its broken container and Kaleb could only watch it in complete silence. These feelings swirling inside his mind seemed to finally take control over him, the violent outburst being the clear result of his destructive thoughts now.  He seemed to talk - yell - at someone who wasn’t there are all. 

There was no reason to return to the room to attempt to calm him. Kaleb would wear himself out, just as he had done on the battlefield. His tantrums had been going on for years, ever since he had come to Alistair as a boy, and the outbursts remained as childish as they always had. They ran their course after a time. That was all that this was.

Alistair remained standing in the doorway, staring at the far wall in silence. 

Laughter was bubbling up from the other room, followed by a scream. Alistair still didn't move. He would have to check on Kaleb soon; his king had injured himself in fits of emotion in the past, and throwing glassware would not help Kaleb's wounds. But it would not be wise to stop him in the middle of this. He'd done it in the past, when Kaleb had injured himself more... aggressively. He had been forced to, then. He did not intend to do so now.

He waited for the noise to cease, and returned to Kaleb's room.

Glass crunched under his heels when he stepped inside. Kaleb must have thrown something at the door, as well, for the glass to land just inside it. Alistair moved aside from the glass and surveyed the room. 

Kaleb was unconscious on the floor. His feet were bloody from the shards surrounding him -- glass, porcelain, and what looked like fragments of mirror, everything breakable within reach -- and his face was more heavily tear-streaked than before. The young king looked tired, even in his sleep. If this could be called sleep.

For the second time that day, Alistair washed Kaleb's skin clean of blood, treated his wounds, wiped sweat and tears from his face, and laid him in his bed. The shards took longer to clean up. He sat in the same chair he'd stayed in while he waited for Kaleb to regain consciousness after the battle, and waited again in silence for Kaleb to awaken.

It gave him more time to think than he would have liked. And, lost in thought, it took him longer than it should have to realize that the rhythm of Kaleb's breathing had changed subtly. He was awake, but not interested in showing it. That was fine. Kaleb did not need to open his eyes for Alistair to speak to him.

"That was quite a foolish display," he said, calmly. "If you intend to injure yourself again during your recovery, I will be forced to do something more than simply sleeping down the hall."

Kaleb didn't respond. Even after he slipped back into sleep, Alistair sat beside him in silence for the rest of the night. 

------

It had been five days since the battle, and Alistair was losing patience. Kaleb's body had needed the rest desperately, so Alistair had been willing to allow his stubborn refusal to speak so long as Kaleb stayed in bed. But there was only so much Alistair could do to check Kaleb's condition without asking the king himself. Not only that, but... he had not spoken with Kaleb since his fit days earlier. Alistair was not worried, but he was well aware that Kaleb could work himself into a mental frenzy over such things, and it would not do to have his recovery delayed because of it. 

He stood at Kaleb's bedside, gazing down at his still figure, almost certain that he was awake again.

"You have slept quite enough, Kaleb."

No reaction.

"Your Majesty," Alistair said, "Do not disgrace yourself and your crown by acting like a child."

Again, there was no response. The faint hitch in Kaleb's breath told Alistair that he was indeed awake, and merely ignoring his adviser once again.