It was so dark anyone would think the run has never shined on it before even the slightest. The darkness was incredibly deep and penetrating, and had this chill that has one contemplating whether or whether not something resides there in that darkness.
And in that penetrating darkness sat a manly figure on the bare floor. He had one hand stretched out in front of him, and the other on which he laid his arm on. His head was looking down to the floor, and his dark scattered hair had been disassembled and thrown over the front of his face, almost touching the ground.
There wasn’t a point in time when he had seen anything he wanted and didn’t get it for himself. Everything in his possession was what he wanted, and he disposed of that he didn’t want or need. He’s never felt this way before, and he knew there was just something wrong with him. He had tried to ignore the obvious signs that had been rubbing him on the face all this while, till last night when it had fully hit him in the hardest, in a way he had never expected.
Aragon didn’t look like he was breathing. His body was like a rock, and his dark eyes were open and unblinking. The way he was sitting alone would have anyone understanding that there was something wrong with him, and that was the more reason why he was alone. The darkness was a perfect place for him.
Especially the room he rarely visited.
He comes here all the time to reinforce what is already inside of him. When he feels that somehow...it’s depleting and rendering him weaker and weaker everyday. Reinforcing what is already overflowing had to be the most outrageous thought, because it was only in his mind. He only felt like it was going because the sudden weakness that overtook his bones was not something he could begin to explain to anyone. Even though there was a better way to reinforce the darkness in him, Aragon didn’t want to go for that...yet.
Though it looks like he would have to soon. Sooner than he thinks.
It was pure torture for him. Maybe he should have come back heartless, then all this wouldn’t be bothering him anymore but his damn heart seem to have a mind of its own that was pretty much controlling the flow of his thoughts right now.
"If it’s bothering you that much, you know what you have to do," A deep voice spoke from somewhere in the room which didn’t belong to Aragon.
Aragon let out a greasy and hysterical laughter, "I know what I have to do, but I don’t want to."
"Then you’ll only bring great torture upon the both of you. It’ll only accumulate more than it already has. And it won’t be too long before others begin to notice. They’ll now understand that you now have a weakness and you know what happens next!" The voice didn’t sound too intimidating. Surprisingly calm was the word to use in describing it, but there was just something... horrifically unearthly about it that inspires fear.
"It’s my risk,"
The voice chuckled dryly, "You claim they hate you, but aren’t you the one always putting them in danger?" And then there was a slight pause, "Here’s my advice to you, because we are in this together...Let go of everything and face your own path. You’ll only end up hurting them all. No one wants you around. Everyone you’ve given your heart to knows there’s something incredibly ominous and engulfing surrounding your existence, and you haven’t even told anyone that you died that night and you’re only alive because of the deal we made. If you don’t want hate, keep to yourself!"
Aragon let out a frustrated sigh and turned his hands into fists. He had a lot going on in his mind, and there was nothing that would convince him how cruel the world he lived in was. Was he a very bad person? Of course, he was. Does it all come back to him one way or another? Yes, yes it does.
An important part of him was lost that day, and he acquired something even greater...but not better. At this point in time, he can proudly say the whole world was in the palm of his hands and he could do anything with it. Kidnap him? Yes, he can pretend and say he got kidnapped the other time and pretend to be a prisoner all to observe what was really going on in the inside. He can go extra length, and do things no one expects just to get what he wants.
Just like how he walked into the grand castle with no intention of marriage, and walked out with a woman who now has the key to his heart... but isn’t ready to give hers. The hate in her soul only grows everyday, and knowing she only glares or emits more coldness while she’s around the supernatural pointed out that they might just be involved in what brought about that side of her in the first place because he’s seen her smile at Caius softly, he’s looked deep into her eyes...and the night he married her he’s seen that it wasn’t just cold that filled her eyes and body, there was something she was hiding underneath.
She was never that kind of person.
Something happened to her that triggered that side of her out, unlike him whom at the back of his mind, has always sought out for more power in all of his deals. Born into the supernatural world, there were ranks of power where the lower gets trampled upon and the higher get all the respect and goods. The weak gets torn apart at some point, and the strong moves on to get even stronger. Even though the world council of vampires and witches tries to keep everything in control, even they themselves...are still climbing to reach the top and hiding their dirty secrets underneath the surface.
It was when Aragon got to the very top and looked down, then realized there was really nothing in being one of the greatest, especially when you look beside you and hardly find any support. Those you want to support you throw their heads away because your path was filled with bloods, and the scars you left on they themselves. He might pretend it doesn’t affect him, but it does a lot.
Especially his own wife, the one and only present he ever received in his life with both hands... loathing him. He thought life companions were the ones who were supposed to understand you the most. And he was even more afraid to tell her more about him because everytime he remembered the terrified look in her eyes when she asked whether he was truly a dead man, he just knew the rest of the story would either have her running out of the room with a dangerous level of coldness sipping out of her, or...she might just take out a dagger from somewhere and stab him in the chest with it.
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