He says nothing more. Neither do I.
I’ve already chosen.
Now the King only has to decide whether he can live with the shadow I’m about to become.
Leo stands there with the sea stretching endlessly before him, his cigarette has burned down between his tattooed fingers, the ember glowing like a dying star. The wind pulls at his hair as time seems to stretch on forever.
For a long moment, I think he might refuse me simply because accepting this shit means admitting the world needs men like us.
Then he turns to face me fully. And in his usual cold eyes, I don’t see a king but a man who can no longer pretend purity still exists.
“You know what this will cost you,” he states quietly.
I nod. “Yeah, I do.”
His jaw tightens. “Once this begins, there’s no coming back. Even if you succeed. Even if you save us. History won’t remember what you were doing in the dark. It’ll remember what that looked like.”
I smirk. “I’m not doing this for history, you know that.”
He stares at me, as if trying to see something that isn’t there. As if he knows the toll this will take.
“And here we have it, another secret, another fucking burden…” he mutters.
“Well, as king, it’s inevitable,” I answer. “Someone has to do ugly things so others can pretend the world still has hope and light, init. We have to shoulder the sins so they can sleep.”
His eyes flick, just for a heartbeat, toward the distant glow of the wedding. Then he looks back at me.
“And this,” he says, “This is one of those choices that damn the hands that make it.”
He lifts his cigarette and lets it fall, grinding it out beneath his boot. The ember dies with a hiss, swallowed by the sand.
“Fine. Let’s do this. But remember, this was your choice.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’ll make it real,” he says. “The betrayal. The exile. I’ll burn your name into the fucking ground if I have to.”
My chest tightens, not with fear but something else.
“You’ll have no allies, and you have to know I won’t be able to protect you. Out there, you’re alone.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
The wind surges between us, and then Leo reaches out, grips my shoulder once, giving it a firm squeeze.
“Then it’s done, you’ll betray us, and be branded a traitor.”
“Perfect.”
We stare at one another, just two men standing on the edge of damnation, choosing it anyway.
Then he steps back, his expression emotionless and hardened, the expression of a king as he ties his hands behind his back.
“By my authority,” Leo says, his voice carrying the weight of authority, “you are sanctioned.”
“Thanks.”
There’s nothing more to say, and Leo breaks the circle of silence before he turns and walks back towards the wedding, leaving me alone in the darkness.
