Hollow
He still feels it. What he lacks.
Whether he takes a more substantial form; or remains in that which he considers closer to an apparition. It doesn’t matter.
How long has it been? From his own perspective it’s incredibly hard to say.
He remembers fighting Manus. Saving Sif.
He remembers the darkness. The embrace of it. The way that it made him feel. Taking a piece of him at a time, until there was nothing left but beast in the shell of a man.
He remembers that beast. He was that beast. Until he was put down.
A mercy kill, if one ever did exist.
Then a different darkness. Perhaps not so much the bliss of non-existence, but still, an odd sense of peace. Rest, at last. Had he even earned such a right?
There was precious little time to contemplate such a thing. What happened, he’s not sure. There might never be answers for him. All he recognizes, all that he is almost certain of, is that there was a process behind why he came into being.
A process that he is also absolutely certain, rather than almost, that he is the refuse of.
Garbage; thrown away to wherever it is that garbage is ultimately thrown away to. A place beyond a dumping ground in the traditional sense.
This place. The place where she found him.
She is not a king, even though he detects ... something ... that he cannot quite understand. His own choice in not pressing the matter.
Still. Upon seeing her for the first time. Something resonated, he felt. An understanding. A camaraderie, perhaps. For in many ways she has been wronged as he has been.
He gladly still takes on the mantle of being her knight.
She is not a king.
But.
He cares not much for kings these days anyways.
The sentiments of a King are what led to this, after all. Even if he would never force himself to confront the truth of the matter: his own ego and arrogance is what damned him then. He hates his other self too, for being able to admit that. It’s hardly all that he hates him for, but it’s one of the most prominent things certainly.
Whether he hates that version of him though, and his happy ending. Or whether he hates himself more, is ultimately hard to say.
For him, his service is necessary. It is a distraction, even if a pleasing one. It helps to make him forget. Even helps to make him whole on a more literal level, depending on the circumstance.
Although nothing can erase the memory burned into his mind. Coming back here, to his new home for the first time.
Seeing “himself” in the mirror. Understanding what he felt and why.
His cry of agony, of rage, of sorrow, rattled the bones of her other companions.
There is a reason now, why he never is seen without his hood. Far from when he was alive and considered it only to be aesthetically pleasing.
