@falchionbourne and I talked about cousin angst <3
his fingers run along the sharp edge of the blade, it cuts into his gloves and leaves a trail of red along it. he found comfort in the pain and the way it grounded him as dark eyes calmly watched the other’s sleeping form. entering the room was easy—the guards knew him and let him pass or simply couldn’t stop him for they’d fallen asleep on the job. they thought his business to be official. but no. it was far from it. too late for something like that.
his task would be simple. all he needed to do was drag the knife along his innocent, sleeping cousin’s throat. then he’d be free of them. he’d be free of this life of deceit and lies that weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. he would be next in line; these plots would cease. yet something held him back, even as he stepped forwards.
nails biting into the weapon’s leather grip, berkut levels it with the boy’s throat. alm was only two years his junior, but he seemed so much younger. his duty did not crush him. stress did not age him. he’d not a single worry in this world. because no one had dared burden him, because berkut had not allowed any threat to reach him.
lips curl into a scowl, his brows furrowing in silent debate. there should have been no debate at all. either he’d come here to definitely kill alm, or he shouldn’t have come at all and allowed his cousin to live. so it seemed his heart wanted this since he’d come here tonight.
no, a part of him says, this isn’t what you want.
❛ then what the hell do you want…?? ❜ he mutters to himself much louder than he intended. berkut pulls the knife back, wincing as the idea of what would’ve happened if he’d done what he’d planned flashed across his mind.
you’re so damned weak ! no wonder they treat you like this…!
rapid steps backward bring him knocking into his cousin’s nightstand and freezing in place as something he couldn’t make out clambered to the floor.
oh, gods, please do not let him awaken to this horrible sight…!
His aunt and uncle normally expressed a subtle distaste for Alm’s destiny to ascend the throne. While they never showed outward hostility (for that would be a fool’s errand), he always sensed their spite for him under the surface. His father had cautioned him to remain on guard around them.
Lately, however, the two expressed wishing to make amends for their hostile deposition and had offered him a new brew of tea as a sign of goodwill. Alm had lamented his latest difficulty in sleeping. The two were kind enough to supply him with a strong tea that would guarantee a deep sleep.
Alm, of course, had imbibed it. He knew it foolish to wish for their goodwill to be sincere, but he still wanted it to be. He hoped against hope that, perhaps, they had truly turned the other and amended their greedy ways.
The brew suppressed Alm’s habits of being a light sleeper. On any other night, he would’ve awoken immediately at the pitter-patter of someone’s approach. Not tonight, however. Tonight, it took an intruder literally bashing his nightstand to banish the slumber that took hold. In shock, Alm’s eyes darted open.
For a moment, he thought himself in another place; then, he recalled that the sea of darkness was his room without lights. This signified it was still nighttime. Had the tea failed its duty? Then, however, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He made out the silhouette of . . . someone. He was too groggy to recognize it, but the stress of an abrupt awakening struck him to think of the intruder as a threat.
He rose from his bed, and kept his distance. While unarmed, he could certainly defend himself if it came to combat with his fists. He called to the intruder -- loudly, hoping to attract the attention of his guards.
“ Intruder, what do you want from me!? ”
And then, his mind slows, trying to assess the sight before him. Suddenly, oh so suddenly, it occurs to him that he’s erred. The silhouette was . . . !
“ . . . Cousin Berkut? I-is that you? “
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