Calstron

THE fading light shines off the ocean in brief sparks. Each wave brings another memory to the surface of his mind. The moat around his home, rivers, training grounds. Step, crash, gone.

He sees his birth and his mother so happy. Step, crash, gone. He sees his father's stern face light up as he runs for the very first time. Step, crash, gone. He remembers his father and all the harsh words, all the expectations. He sees himself, barely half a year old, slitting the throat of an accused traitor while they screamed they'd done nothing wrong. Step, crash, gone. He sees himself running across the practice battlefield in all the glory of his youth. He feels the joy, the success of dominating like he should. But still, the face of his mentor haunts him. It never leaves. Step, crash, gone.

But he also sees the dust swirling in the beams of light in the great hall, early morning, and the smile of the pretty young filly with green eyes. He feels the warmth of her breath as they run through the gardens. Fresh yearlings whispering secrets to each other in the crisp night air. Naive adolescents flitting about the castle as if nothing could hold them back.

He'd held her as she died, gagging, gasping, bleeding. Murdered. A perfect light stomped out. The dust swirling in the morning light lost its magic.

The laughter of his friends as they spar in a river reaches his ears. They'd talked about all the things they'd do when they were older. All the girls they'd fuck. All the parties they'd go to. And he remembers their last words and cries when they were felled on the battlefield. He remembers the way he lost the light in his soul with each good thing taken from him. The assassins, the battles, murders, the abuse from everyone around him...all the while maintaining the facade of the graceful prince, unperturbed, stoic.

He remembers the isolation, that castle on the hill and how much of a cage it became with no one there that he loved. Why should he  be good when the truth was that it didn't matter what you did. You could be so fucking pure that the heavens'd be put to shame and still die the same as the serial killer standing next to you. You could be selfless and kind and someone'd still hate you. You and your life and the ones you loved didn't matter to anyone anymore than the next horse. You didn't matter. That wasn't emotion, that was logic, rough and true. The stallion had never meant to become the devil but pain, damage, it was the only thing that made him feel alive. It was only when he was doing worse things than he'd seen did he forget the bitterness of his past.

He remembers Rexanna too. And the curves of Raeden's body beneath his own are still fresh and bright. The new smell of his foals, now a year old, was something he'd never forget. But sanity was a cruel king and just as he could not forget the good he'd never be able to forget the bad. He'd never really be good. He could try all he wanted but his broken soul would always be a hazard. 

The blood knight, now away from the ocean, reaches the Heart Caves. His dark expression turns tortured. The world had made him do bad here too. Not anymore though. Not anymore. He'd not be twisted into a barbed shape again. Fuck that, fuck the world, fuck his past. Fuck it all. He was going to die when he still had something right in his life. The lava calls to him but he just stands there, unable to do it. Tears of pain, of guilt, of rage stream down his face. The stallion screams a primal noise at the molten rock in despair. He was too fucking weak to go without telling someone why. Weak, just like always. Weak, just like his father had always told him he was. What a piece of shit he was.



"speech" 

I'll Fall So You Might Live