Yell, yell, hit, repeat.
He brushes the dirt on his jacket, wiping the blood from his nose and sniveling up his childish tears. The crown on his head was slipping off slightly, but still the strigoi had the balls to stand and walk out of the room as his father nursed another flask of whisky.
It wasn't the overused abusive, poor, angst story. His father was a jolly, happy man when he was sober, and the opulent appearance of the castle showed no sign of poverty in any bit. It was just... Just when he had parties. He would try not to get drunk but those wretched vampires always insisted. They ******** knew.
I have to be a man about this.
Why was he named Peace? Why, when he caused so much havoc in such little time? He only wanted to see the moon flowers in their full bloom. He just wanted to pick one, and feel the velvety petals and smell it's watery, pure scent.
He only stayed up for a wee longer than usual.
Why, why did the king seem so angry about it? It didn't make sense, although, nothing made sense when you were intoxicated. He learned that much at age eleven.
The redhead kept his face hidden behind his long, wispy bangs. He was so self conscious, so vulnerable.
So introverted.
So cold, cold, cold.
He was always cold. Even in the blazing summer he would be shivering in his lavish room. He would very much rather watch children play than actually join them.
So cold.
"Little prince, would you like some sweets?"
He hated sweet things. So cold, walk away.
"Little prince, care for some tea?"
Tea was too hot. So cold, walk away.
"Would you like to play with me? You seem so pale, and that kind of makes us alike."
Look up.
Lucia.
It suddenly felt like the sun had come out from it hiding place, like a sadistic form of hide and seek. Peace felt so warm. So warm...
Years went on and that warmth grew, shrunk, and grew again. The little prince was not little anymore. He was a young man. Tall, with vibrant red hair, and the darkest blue eyes.
"You just keep growing, prince!"
"How tall? Six three? Six four?"
He would smile warmly. "Six four. I hope I'm not growing any taller, we've had to change the height of my door twice already."
And on the inside he would scream. Royalty was a joke. Lucia had seen that.
I have to be a man about it, he would say.
It started in the summer of his fourteenth year. Peace, with silvery white hair, clad in royal attire as to show his worth. He looked so different. Skinnier, more fragile. He looked like a prince.
They had been going out for two years now. Him and Lucia. Oh, she made every day so... worth it. So worth the long lectures and the constant interviews with the press and avoiding the girls who came by swarms to the castle.
It felt so good to have her by his side.
But...
"Who is this.. Lucia?"
"A girl at school... She's...She's not a princess and she doesn't go outside often, but she's very pale and pretty, and she makes me happy. Oh please, please can we just talk about this?"
His father scoffed. "What makes a girl who is not part of a royal family do to help us? Tell me, boy."
"You're so cold, father!" He yelled back, glaring. In a furious mood, he stormed off.
He didn't want to get violent.
He had to be a man.
He... he just had to.
Peace found himself in Lucia's arms, sobbing heavily. She was the only one who saw this side of him, this... this little boy, just wishing for the world to smile upon him.
She would smile and tell him it was alright. And she would take the pain away.
Because she had to power to...
--
"What? No way!" She burst into a laughing fit. Peace only scoffed, smiling. "I mean it! You're so pretty and petite, Lucia! I don't want you to get hurt!"
"I'll be fine. The war... The war seems like a joke to me. Our army is so much better. You can take them, Peace. I know it."
"Really? You think so?" He pushed his bangs out of his face. She pulled him into a hug.
"I'd bet our love."
Wrong move.
The next few months, in a barren wasteland, a war struck out. Many were being killed, as it was Strigoi versus Vampire. They were cousins....Cousins!
Peace lay under a secure base, heaving as he threw up the small bites of breakfast that day. He had just killed his family member. He had killed ten of them.
No... more than ten...
Oh god, he heaved again, sobbing.
Even when he thought of Lucia he couldn't calm down.
So many people...died.
The war passed in the most horrible way. It was a stalemate.
Peace kept himself secluded for a little bit. He couldn't bear to see Lucia for months. He just felt so...unclean. He killed his own kin. How could he? And it was all for nothing!
He would shrivel into a ball, listening to his music, hiding himself.
A year went by.
And he stepped foot outside of the house. The people who saw him backed up a bit. They weren't scared of him, they only felt bad.
He looked restless and broken.
He looked miserable.
But he still walked by everyone like the proud prince he was, and smiled warmly and greeted them like he did before the war.
It just hurt more.
"Lucia..?"
"Ah, yes can I....help..you..."
She froze as she opened the door to her house.
"Peace...?"
"Hey you..."
It was so awkward between them. And as they gazed at each other....
A tear fell
And he believed he was dying.
She slammed the door in his face. And he walked home. They both couldn't look at each other. They both felt the same way. Ashamed, broken, but still, they were in love. But What was love when the betrayal they felt for each other overpowered it?
Another year passed. He tried again.
"H...Hello."
"Good morning.."
"I um... I visited the elves yesterday.. I got a journal.."
"That's..pretty cool."
And it started to mend a little. Just a bit. But this time, Peace tried to deny his feelings. He had to, he was so scared that something else would happen.
He had to escape this place so bad.
He had to leave her.
If it were simple
I would tell you,
but there is confusion within
and here around me.
You prefer evasion
and perhaps it is not your fault;
I could try some other time
but it is not me you have to heed.
Listen to your heart and see if it is beating,
look where you are running to and stop,
listen to the pain of the world;
we are lost along the way,
orphans of life,
war machines,
but why?
look where you are running to and stop,
listen to the pain of the world;
we are lost along the way,
orphans of life,
war machines,
but why?
