Victory cries sounded through the air, the heavy air of battle lifting.

Setial led these cries, throwing his exhausted arms up and relishing in the fact that they had won.

He knew that both sides had taken a heavy hit, but they had managed to come out on top. Barely.

Avaviles had broken through so many lines and the castle had been breached at a few points. Setial was tiring and losing the will to fight.

Then, it happened.

Hundreds of allies from Theaccuthia and returning soldiers from Caben had gotten their messages. They came to help.

The fighters swept across the battlefield, killing most of the opposers, leaving Setial and many other reinvigorated soldiers and knights to finish off the rest. Their allies even combed through the castle and took care of all of those left! Although Setial very seriously doubted many made it in, likely just a few who managed to slip inside with all the confusion of the fighting.

As Setial threw his head back, yelling in victory, sweat, dirt, and blood painted across his face, he couldn't help it. The image of him, laying naked on his bed, soft brown eyes widening in anticipation, waiting to be taken popped into his head, which he admitted to himself with little shame was a big motivator for him while fighting.

However, that would have to wait. First, he had to go through the very sweet task of announcing their victory to their father, whose old battle wounds and other ailments prevented him from fighting.

Putting his arms down, the motion making them feel like they were about to fall off, he walked back towards the main entrance of the castle, adrenaline making his tired legs move with purpose and without shaking.

He tried to ignore the many bodies piled up along the way, although being careful not to step on an arm or torso (unless, of course, if they belonged to a soldier from Avaviles), he saw several people moving on the ground, but didn't stop to help. Several physicians and their many assistants they had taken on when news of impending battle reached them would be running around and helping. He could see a few in the distance, bent over and saving who they could. They wouldn't be able to save all of those who could be saved, there were too little of them, but they would do what they could.

Once inside the castle, his surroundings really did fall away. His only goal took over his mind, getting to his father and giving him the report. Then, he'd be free to do whatever, well, he shouldn't have been, but he would leave all that to Ezorah, who should've been doing what he did in the first place. His lips curled in disgust thinking about him, but quickly fell into a soft smile thinking about what—or should he say who—he would be doing after. He had earned it, after all. It didn't matter that he was tired, he had fought in an impossible battle and survived, no, won, for him, and for what they would do after. There was no way he was letting a little thing like his energy level affect that.

In what felt like a lifetime later, even though it was only a few minutes, Setial reached the room where his father, his bastard, and several of the other staff and nobles had holed up. Many guards stood around the door, obviously placed there specially to protect them. Setial wanted to scoff or be visibly disgusted by his supposed half-brother's cowardice, but he was too excited to just get through all this.

The doors were open at this point and several people, including his father, were out in the wide hall in front of them. They turned to look at Setial as he walked up to them though.

"We have suffered a great loss of good men. But their sacrifice was not in vain! With the help of Theaccuthian soldiers, we have emerged victorious!" All those years of shouting in the throne room, and the dining room, and his fathers study, and so many other places had actually found a way to pay off. He wasn't even breathless from that.

Unlike on the battlefield, news of their victory caused breaths of relief and silent musings, secret smiles over this group of people.

Setial suddenly fought the urge to take out his sword and slaughter them all. What right did they have to be so relieved? They weren't within an inch of their lives like he was! They had sat quietly in a room! Even though his life was saved probably seconds before it was ended, he still had the energy and decency to cry out in victory! He quickly smothered those thoughts, they would help nobody, and he knew he'd reflect on it later and realize these people weren't in the wrong.

The only person who seemed to have gotten the news of a win was his father, who laughed loudly and clapped Setial on his shoulder. "That is the most joyous news! We will throw the best feast we can in honor of our triumph and in honor of those we have lost. My son has brought us a victory!" He announced to the people around, who smiled at him and nodded. Setial again had to push down the urge for violence, how could he even be thinking of that when he had been surrounded by that horribleness?

His father then pulled him aside. "We must start figuring out the damage that was done and preparing for the feast. You mu-"

"No." Setial cut him off, causing his father to look at him with a stupid, dumbfounded expression. "That is a job for a Crown Prince, which I am not. I have earned some time off to myself to recover. Have the one who sat in from the battle take care of the rest." Hatred was surely evident in his voice, but he just wanted to get out of there. Turning away from him, he started off, back towards his room.

The first thing he would do as soon as he saw him was kiss him. It didn't matter where they were or who was around them, they were lucky he'd stop at just a kiss, he'd kiss him with everything he had. Even if it had only been a day or so, he missed kissing him.

He could still remember the first time they kissed. He did it in anger and honestly didn't feel it. But the second time, when he had pulled him in and initiated it, it was like a whole other world opened for Setial. Never before, when he was off kissing maidens whenever he could, had a kiss felt so good, so right. But maybe that was just him.

As he turned another corner, he froze, suddenly aware of something at his mind had distracted him from.

The halls were empty.

Where were all the guards?

Turning right around and heading back to the area where he had just came from, he scanned the guards, looking for one particular one.

He spotted him. "Herval!" The head guard turned to where he had heard his voice and quickly walked over when Setial gestured him over.

"What is it, my prince?" Herval asked as soon as he had stopped in front of Setial.

Knowing that his father would make him busy if he stayed much longer and not one for wasting time, Setial turned and started walking the way he initially started, calling a simple, "Follow," to Herval, who obliged. "Where are all the guards?" He growled as soon as they were a distance away, not slowing his pace, hoping that his fears wouldn't be true.

"I have, um, sent them out to fight."

Setial didn't know what he felt first, the dropping of his stomach in fear or the boil of anger. Choosing to act on the latter, Setial swung himself around and pinned Herval to the wall, one arm holding his chest against it and his other hand gripping his throat. He didn't even have to fight, and he sends off his guards! He couldn't even defend himself against the attacks of a nearly drop-dead tired person! "What?" His voice was low, dangerous. He had ordered and ordered again to keep the guards in their posts in the castle. He had said to protect those inside, although the real reason was he selfishly wanted to keep a certain someone safe.

"Prince Ezorah gave the order two hours before Avaviles came."

"He didn't even fight! Doesn't know how!" He could feel his arms shaking, whether from exhaustion, anger, or worry he couldn't tell.

Herval made a choking noise against Setial's hand. "He outranks you."

Setial knew he was right, his real problem was with Ezorah, and he needed Herval to tell him where he needed to go. Giving his throat one last squeeze, he released him from the wall and walked quickly to where he's been trying to go. "Follow!" He yelled, hearing the clamor of metal as Herval had to recover and catch up to him. He heard his fat wheezing behind him and clenched his fist, resisting the urge to strangle him again.

The hallways never seemed to end and the walk might've sent Setial's thoughts spiraling if it weren't for the urgency in which he walked, his only thoughts being 'Get there as soon as possible.'

When he finally got to where he had found him, his stomach twisted when he saw his place empty. Or, at least he thought it was his place, without the guards there every little length of hall looked the same. "Where did the guards here go?" He asked Herval, knowing he was in the right general area at least.

Herval took a second to catch his breath. "This is section seven. They were sent to..." he paused, thinking, "ah, the southeastern gate, near the garden."

Setial didn't remember anything from his getting from there to the doors leading out, but he knew that as soon as Herval finished speaking he had sprinted.

The doors loomed in front of him, taunting him. Setial wanted to open them, he wanted so bad to see what had happened, but a paralyzing fear kept him rooted in place. What would he find? Would he be on the other side of those doors, waiting for him? Or had a much worse fate got him?

One of the doors moved, being blown inwards slightly. Unlocked. Knowing that he had to know, Setial stepped forward with shaking legs and stepped outside.

His breath caught in his throat.

No.

No, no, no.

The beauty of the gardens had been destroyed with blood.

All around the door, bodies lay. Those of both Takkorian and Avavilian kingdoms littered the ground. Not a living soul in sight.

Spurred into movement, Setial threw himself on the ground, frantically turning over bodies and pushing people off of each other to look at faces.

A lot of the faces of Takkorian guards were ruined with a hole in the face, obviously Avavilian soldiers making sure they were dead, and others were stabbed in the necks, but he wasn't seeing anybody familiar.

Maybe he got away.

Maybe he was assigned to a different area.

There's no way he could be here, among these corpses.

There's no way.

There's no way.

There's no way, there's no way, there's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

But there was in fact a way.

And that was made very clear to Setial as he turned over one of the bodies.

A familiar face stared emptily into nothing, blood staining several parts of his body, a giant wound in the neck, obviously done post-mortem due to the lack of bleeding.

He was dead.

Setial saw all of this, just chose to ignore it.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're going to be okay, you just have to talk to me, talk to me, talk to me, please." His voice didn't sound like his own. It was just as foreign as the arms that shook him increasingly more violent, trying to get some sort of response. "No, come on, please, no, you can't do this to me. You can't do this to me! You can't do this to me! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" His throat hurt. Eyes hurt. Head was pounding. But it was nothing, nothing compared to what felt like a giant crack in his chest, opening up and eating all of his organs. Tearing into his heart and ripping it to shreds. "Come on, come on, sit up. We're supposed to, we're supposed to go to my room to celebrate, come on." His voice was barely a whisper, body curling over him, almost hugging him. "We did it, we won." He breathed.

It was suddenly so hard to breath. His lungs forgot how to work and he wasn't taking in anything. He just clung to him and squeezed, trying to force some of his life into him, hot tears running down his face.

It won't work.

He's gone.

He still kept trying, wishing his very soul would leave his body if only to rouse the one underneath him. His lungs burned.

He's gone.

Setial sat up.

And he screamed.

He screamed in anger, betrayal, hurt, loss.

He screamed until he physically couldn't anymore.

And once the noise had died down on his lips, he looked back down, everything shaking.

He reached down and pulled off his helmet, running his fingers through his soft hair, this didn't make him feel dead at all. But when he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his unmoving lips, he could tell. There was no response, no movement, no breath, they were even beginning to cool.

Having no energy left, Setial wrapped his arms around him, tucked his face in against his head, and cried.

He's gone.

He was barely aware of the sounds of someone approaching him, didn't process the comforting hand on his back.

When his tears ran out and he leaned away, he was startled to find a girl crouched down next to him.

He couldn't tell what she looked like, the light of day fading away made it difficult. He'd been there for hours. The sun was high in the sky when he was looking for him.

She was obviously younger than him and Takkorian, she had the dark hair and eyes. She had dirt on her from fighting, likely she was from the town surrounding the castle that had survived the attack and made her way up there.

She reached a hand out and gently closed his eyes, closing their unseeing stare from the world.

He looked like he was asleep.

"He's beautiful." The girl spoke, her accent strange. Setial just nodded numbly. He certainly was beautiful, even in death. "What's his name?"

The question that was meant to be comforting sent what was left of Setial's internal organs crashing down. "I don't know." He chocked out, tears that had supposedly run out started up again.

What's his name?

How could he not know?

He knew how. He had never asked.

After a while, when Setial had really started to care about him, he had just thought of him as him. Because he was the only him that he could think about, he was the only him that mattered.

He didn't even know his name.

He was mourning the loss of a man he never really knew.

But that wasn't true. He had known him. He had known his soul. He was a good person. One that Setial wanted to spend all his time with.

And he was gone.

He would never get to talk to him again, never hear his voice, never get to ask him his name.

He was gone.

But he had to know.

He looked around, his body still held in his arms, and saw that he and the strange girl were not the only ones out there anymore. It seems that Herval had followed him and was now awkwardly standing around, looking at his fallen guards.

"Herval." Said guard perked up when he heard his name, even though the voice that said it was abused with emotion. "What, what was his name?"

Herval's eyes flickered down to the body Setial was holding, obviously recognizing him. He was clearly thrown by the question, but composed himself quickly. "His name was Nikkol."

Nikkol.

The name fit him. It made sense with his soft eyes, gentle curve of his face, perfect lips. He was Nikkol.

Nikkol was gone.