The armoured guards dragged the twelve year old boy into the throne room by the crooks of his elbows. His body lay limp between them with blood dripping from his face and bare feet, leaving a red trail on the marble floor behind them. Was the blood his? Or his mother's? He didn't know. And he didn't think he cared. Not anymore.

Despite the late hour at night, the throne room seemed brighter than it should have been. The boy summoned the effort to look up and see a painfully elegant room boasting a vast space framed by two rows of structural columns. Sculptures, paintings and other historical artworks decorated the interior, showcasing the wealth and power of his brother's empire. A gallery the boy would have enjoyed were it not for the pungent odour filling his nose. A smell he would one day recognize as the smell of death. Was it the room? Or was it just him? Or maybe it was the smell of this particular night? It wouldn't surprise him considering what he had just been through. The sounds of screaming still echoed in his ears. Or maybe it was from the city? These questions only proved to be fleeting thoughts as his broken body reminded him of worse problems.

Half conscious in the arms of the guards, he was not prepared to be dropped to the ground before the throne at the end of the long corridor. The boy collapsed into a mass on the hard floor. He struggled to gaze up at a figure sitting in his brother's seat but his vision was hazy from the beatings he received prior to being escorted here.

The figure shot up from the throne, "Who did this?" The boy recognized the voice: his uncle, Sauloram. He could hear the guards shifting uncomfortably in silence.

"I said WHO DID THIS?!"

One of the guards braved to answer the order, "Th-the men can be a little rough sometimes-"

"A little rough? I specifically told all of you not to lay a hand on the boy. Very. Simple. Instructions."

The boy could almost see the guard's heads hang in shame. His uncle's footsteps approached his legless form and bent down to inspect the boy closely. Soft fingers lifted his chin allowing a clearer vision of his attentive uncle. What he saw surprised him. The boy was accustomed to seeing his uncle in conservative grey or black attire denoting his position as one of the Emperor's key advisers. Instead he saw a man bedecked in an extravagant robe embroidered with intricate floral patterns mixed with blade imagery. A robe fit for a Paravellan Emperor. His brother's robes.

"They didn't hurt you too much, did they boy?" his uncle cooed before turning to the guards. "I want them punished."

"Yes, my-"

Suddenly, from their clanky and rustling armour, the boy could hear more guards entering the throne room. After his uncle released his face to stand up and receive them, the boy shifted his body to better observe and glean from the approaching newcomers about what was happening this night and why. As the guards lumbered down the throne room, the boy noticed one of them carrying a heavy object over his shoulder but the boy couldn't discern what it was. The guards travelled the length of the room until they stopped before his uncle who puffed his chest out reminding the boy of an imperious bird flaunting his beauty. They bowed their heads, hands to chest, to the well-robed man paying no mind to the crumpled child that obstructed any further step forward.

"What took you so long?" his uncle demanded.

A man the boy recognized as the Captain of the Guard answered his uncle, "Sorry, my lord. He-"

"Your Majesty."

"What?"

"You will address me as 'Your Imperial Majesty'."

The guards shifted uneasily before nodding in compliance, "Yes, your Imperial Majesty."

His uncle nodded satisfied, "What took you so long? I sent twelve of you."

The Captain continued to answer while the rest of the guards remained silent, "The bastard was hard to kill. He cut down seven of my men before we could kill him."

"He took down more than half of you? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He is my brother's eldest after all. Well, was the eldest."

In that instant the boy connected the dots and glanced at the mass heaped over one of the guard's shoulders. That was when he glimpsed his brother's empty eyes gazing back at him from a body hanging limp like game on a rack.

"C-Camren?" The boy whimpered as he slowly slid his way towards his brother like a pathetic slug. His uncle and the guards took notice of the interruption.

"Ah, yes," his uncle started, "He, uh...Your brother. He..."

The boy paid no heed to his uncle's stumbling words. All he could see was his brother staring back at him. Was he asking for help? Was he playing dead? Why wasn't he doing anything? Even when uncle Sauloram knelt down beside the boy and grabbed his face, his eyes were still glued to his brother's cold gaze. Why was this-

"I said look at me!"

The child was suddenly forced to look up at his uncle with his chin and cheeks bunched in an adult hand. Uncle Sauloram's face was blurred through the boy's misty eyes. His uncle then seemed to pause before nodding to himself, making an important decision. "Leave us," he ordered.

On that order, the guards turned and began exiting the throne room. But not before the boy struggled out of his uncle's grasp and continued to crawl towards his brother. "Camren," he tried to shout only to have it come out as a feeble breath. But it was audible enough for the guards to halt, unsure what to do. "Give him back," pleaded the boy.

"Leave the body," Saulex ordered.

The guards were reluctant but they obeyed. With a nod from the Captain, the carrier of Camren's body unceremoniously dropped his weight onto the marble floor with a heavy and echoing thump before exiting the throne room with the rest of the guards.

Time passed as the boy crawled towards the body at a torturously slow pace. When he finally reached him the boy struggled to lift his brother's head, using strength he was forced to exert, and cradle it onto his lap. He paid no mind to the punctured hole in his chest which connected to the open wound on his back. Nor did he pay any mind to the pool of blood slowly mingling with his own. When he was as comfortable as he possibly could be, his shaking hands began stroking his brother's lifeless cheeks, marring a dead face with trails of blood. As though with enough tentative care his brother's open eyes might one day blink up at him.

All the while his uncle watched in patient silence.

"I know you loved them. I understand that." The boy didn't know when he appeared beside him or how long he had been crouching there. But when his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, a chill shot up the boy's spine with his next words. "But they were in your way, boy."

The boy fought his stunned reaction before suppressing his urge to glare at his uncle. No. His brother was more important.

His uncle stood up again and roamed the room, admiring what he no doubt believed belonged to him. "Those feelings you have right now. That love you have for your brother. Your father. Your mother. The rest of this wretched family." The boy could hear him shake his head. "I've seen the way they treat you. Like you're nothing but a spare. Always living in your brother's shadow. Never being good enough. Even though you're smarter than the rest of-," his uncle halted abruptly. He seemed to be controlling his breathing and the boy knew he was looking down on him when he spoke, "That love you have for your family. It's nothing but a tool to help them control you. To stop you from getting what you truly want."

The boy continued to trace his brother's face. "I n-never wanted..." He knew he sounded pitiful.

"Do you want to rule? I asked you that question once. Do you remember your answer?"

The boy shook his head.

"Yes. You do. Tell me. What did you say?"

Silence.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

"Yes!" the boy jumped, shocked away from his attention to his brother. He looked up at the monster standing before him and responded with a small voice, "I said yes."

"Yes what?"

The boy raised his voice slightly, "Y-yes. I want to rule."

Uncle Sauloram threw his arms outwards gesturing to the whole throne room around him relishing in an embrace that only he could feel. "Then rule you shall! For, as of today, I am now the rightful ruler of the Paravellan Empire. As it should have been." His uncle seemed to twirl as he faced his nephew with the warmest smile the boy had ever seen on his uncle's face, "And I will name you my heir." The boy barely had time to react before his uncle rushed towards him and almost slid across the floor to lock onto the boy's eyes. "How does that sound, boy?"

The boy looked back into his uncle's hawk-like gaze to see a disturbingly childish fervour that he had never seen before. Was he always like this? He had to turn away and peer back down at his brother's motionless countenance.

For the first time since this night, it all hit him. He would never see his brother again. Or his mother. Or the rest of his family. His brother would never tease him again or ruffle his hair. He would never see his mother smile again......He would never have to learn swordsmanship like he used to. His mother would never berate him ever again. He would never have to be compared.

These thoughts sent a tear trailing down his cheek as an eerie silence settled into the room.

That's when it all clicked. A realization. A truth he knew deep down. A truth he had always known but was never comfortable with accepting. Until now. The boy took one last look at his deceased brother before closing his eyes forever......as a cold grin quirked the corner of his lips. He gently placed his brother's head back onto the floor before struggling to get back up. His uncle offered to help but the boy waved him off. He staggered like a newborn calf in his brother's blood but he eventually found himself standing......and looking back up at his uncle.

The boy nodded.

At that moment, he didn't think he had ever witnessed his uncle's smile glow as radiantly as it did at that moment, "I thought you'd like that."