This was not the future Abel had envisioned for himself.

Having been raised from birth as the heir to the throne of Velicadia, Abel has always had a strong sense of justice. Whatever choices he made, he would always have the welfare of the kingdom and its prosperity at heart. When his father passed and he inherited the crown, he proved himself to be a worthy ruler time and time again, leading his people with an immense respect for the law and the securities it provided. He had always appeared to be calm and composed – always in control, regardless of the situation – as a king ought to be. Or at least, that is what he firmly believed. He had always placed great faith in the notion that by letting truth and reason guide his every action, he would be able to best protect his land and people, allowing them to flourish. He had honestly believed that the truth, no matter how painful it was to hear, was of the utmost importance.

His younger brother, Cain, however, had thought differently.

At first, Abel thought the disagreement in values was something attributed to Cain’s youth. He had been loud, brash, and zealous as a child, a permanent fire raging in his amber eyes as his heart swelled with passion – passion for his people, his training, his friends and family. But the fire never died out. Rather, it seemed to burn hotter with each passing day as Cain thought of new ways he could spread joy to his fellow man, regardless of stature or rank (much to Abel’s chagrin, Cain had little to no interest in the customs of nobility). He was an idealist, and prided himself as such. He believed, without question, that the life of any man, no matter how nefarious his deeds, was precious; that every man was equal, and should be treated as such. He gave his trust away freely, a dangerous trait in a prince, and gave himself wholeheartedly to any cause with little to no thought of the long-term consequences of his actions. He honestly believed that ideals and dreams were what fueled the very basis of humanity to do, well, anything, and that it was worth sacrificing some security and reason to hold these ideals in place.

Naturally, this conflict of interests led to some slight quarrels between the two brothers. One valued reason and cold, raw intellect, the other valued dreams and ambitions. One placed great faith in the logical, the other devoted himself to the seemingly illogical. One preferred to picture the overall design, while the other liked to break things down piece by piece and take things one step at a time. Both had their kingdom’s best interests at heart, or so they believed. But as time passed and they grew older and their responsibilities grew heavier, the meaningless and friendly arguments escalated to one-sided shouting matches (Cain was quick to anger, and Abel was prudent in concealing any unnecessary emotion) and heated debates.
Every now and then, as king, Abel would be faced with some terribly burdensome decision, and every single time, Cain would disagree with the way he handled it. While Abel, a rational being, was prone to calculating the pros and cons of each decision and choosing the method that resulted in an overall gain for the kingdom, regardless of the lives that needed to be sacrificed in the process. Cain wasn't so quick to dehumanize his subjects. He would always try to ensure that no one died, that everyone was safe, and that they could all be happy and healthy and smiling, even if it wasn’t within the borders of reason for the people as a whole. When it came to situations such as these, they never could agree on a decision, and being king, Abel often overruled Cain’s objections and did as he saw fit. Cain would seethe for a bit, spitting out some nasty words, accusing his older brother of being heartless and cold, but eventually, he would move on from the whole ordeal, and the two would make up.
He had never imagined that they would have ended up as enemies.
After a certain unfortunate incident on the battlefield, Cain had become irate with his brother, refusing to even speak with him. Abel had sent a squadron of inexperienced recruits into enemy lines as a distraction while the elite squads seized a strategically important stronghold. And while the operation had been successful and none of the skilled soldiers involved in the seizing had been seriously injured, nearly all of the rookies had been killed, their numbers decimated by the enemy. Like lambs to the slaughter. Of course, Abel had felt an immense sadness in sending his vassals to their deaths like he did, but it could not be helped. It was the only way to ensure victory for his people, and winning the battle far outweighed the lives of a few inexperienced infantrymen. Cain had not accepted this answer, however. He refused to believe that such sacrifices were necessary at all, even on a battlefield, and after weeks of not speaking to his brother, he stormed out the castle gates, vowing that he would not support the rule of a king who was so willing to throw away the lives of his subjects.
And now, here Abel was, standing in the midst of a field littered with corpses. It was difficult to tell which of these men had been his allies and which had pledged their allegiances to his brother. They had been fighting since dawn, the metallic clang of swords clashing and blades cleaving through heavy armor ringing out a thousandfold as, one by one, their vast armies dwindled in number. For hours, the blood-curdling screams of dying men all around had filled Abel’s ears, and he had watched his comrades’ bodies get torn asunder by the enemies’ weapons, their chests pierced by spears and their heads severed from their bodies by great axes. Now, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, however, all was deathly silent. All around him were the unmoving bodies of what were once brave soldiers, fighting valiantly to the death – some had fought for truth, and some had fought for ideals, and some had fought simply to fight. But regardless of what they had fought for, it did not change the fact that he was to blame for every life lost, for they were his subjects. A king was supposed to protect his people, not lead them to senseless deaths fighting for a cause they didn’t quite understand.
Abel stared at the lone figure kneeling before him amidst a sea of corpses. Both of his hands were gripping the handle of his broadsword, which was stabbed downwards into the blood-soaked earth, and he was resting most of his weight on it. His obsidian black armor was littered with gashes and rents, from some of which blood flowed freely in thin rivulets. Abel himself wasn’t in the best shape, but he was still standing, and he was nowhere near as injured as the opponent he was now staring down. The armored figure lifted his head, and his fiery amber eyes met Abel’s icy blue ones. Abel’s hands clenched, the knuckles of his left hand turning even whiter than usual as his grip on his own rapier tightened. The man gave Abel a small smirk, one half of his mouth turning upwards in a familiar lop-sided grin that made Abel’s heart twist inside his chest.
Brothers weren’t supposed to fight each other. Not like this.
For a while, neither of them said anything. They simply stared at each other, relishing in just how rotten everything had become. How many people had died? And for what? Did their deaths even matter? Why did this happen?
Cain was the first to break the silence. “Well?” he barked out, his voice as gruff as ever.
“Well, what?” Abel responded, even now retaining that steely, detached mask of his.
“Don’t play the fool, dear Brother, it doesn’t suit you at all,” Cain sneered. If his biting words affected Abel in any way, he didn’t show it. Cain sighed, as he realized he was wasting his time in trying to get a reaction from his older brother. It never worked, anyway. He jerked his chin at the snowy white lordling, his disheveled jet black hair flying freely around his tanned face as he did so. “Hurry up and end it. Come on, I haven’t got all day you know.”
Abel’s jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes. For the first time, he was at a loss on what to do. So many of his men had given their lives so that victory could be attained and that Abel could once more bring peace to a kingdom in turmoil. And yet, he found that the he could not bring himself to face the reality before him. His sense of justice, of truth – his guiding beacon of morality – was nowhere to be found. He shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t.
Cain rolled his eyes at his brother’s hesitance. “You choose now to suddenly grow a conscience?” Still no response. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Brother, but it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”
For a few long seconds, Abel said nothing.
“…Why?” Abel’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, and it seemed almost as if the question was directed at no one in particular – that he was merely thinking aloud. “Why did this have to happen?”
Cain’s gaze softened a bit at that. For once, his brother’s composure seemed to be breaking as his grief was visibly strewn across his pale face, his brows furrowed together and his lips set in a grim line. “Who knows?” Cain shrugged, and winced. It was probably best to restrict movement considering the poor shape he was in. “Does it even matter why?”

Abel opened his eyes, grief and regret and anger overwhelming him. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he could have had a different life – a life in which he didn’t have the be responsible for the life anyone but himself, much less the lives of an entire kingdom.

A life in which he wouldn’t have to take the life of his own flesh and blood for the sake of a nation.

Cain sighed softly. It wasn’t like his brother to be so hesitant and, well, expressive. But he supposed that, given the current situation at hand, it was only natural. After all, if anyone was aware that there was kindness and compassion locked away beneath that frosty exterior of his brother’s, it was Cain. Even when he had seceded from his rule, Cain knew how much his brother cared for him. “Abel,” he called gently. It had been a long time since he’d spoken his brother’s name. He smiled gently to himself. If only it could have been under different circumstances.

“Cain. I-” Abel opened his mouth as if to continue speaking, but he could not find the words. He didn’t want this, he never had. But no matter how hard he could try to avoid reality, the truth would eventually root him back in place. He had sacrificed everything in order to maintain his rule of truth and reason and facts, and now it required of him one final price. A price he was not willing to pay. “You cannot ask me to do this.”

“I’m not asking, Abel. I’m telling you that you don’t really have a choice here.” With a grunt, Cain rose slowly to his feet, using the great claymore in his hands as leverage against the ground. He swayed a bit, but seemed to be holding up fine otherwise. He smiled another somber smile at his brother. “Don’t you remember what you used to say to me all the time? That you’d cut down-“

“-anyone who posed a threat to my kingdom. I remember.” A soft, genuine smile graced Abel’s face, a rare sight, as he reminisced on a memory from what seemed to be several lifetimes ago. “I remember when you were still very small. You would always follow me around and cling to me, begging me to tell you about what I would do once I was king”

Cain chuckled. “I remember stealing Father’s crown once while he slept so I could try it on myself, and then losing the damned thing somewhere in the castle. I was crying and making a fuss because I knew Father would be angry, and I didn’t know what to do. Then you searched the whole castle by yourself and when you found it, you snuck into Father’s room for me and placed it back onto his nightstand where it belonged just so I wouldn’t get yelled at.” Cain sighed, smiling fondly at the memory, and laughed bitterly. “Who would’ve thought things would turn out like this. Fate is cruel like that, I suppose.”

“Indeed, she is quite the cruel mistress, isn’t she?” The smile faded from Abel’s lips. The more he hesitated, the more his judgment would be clouded by his turbulent emotions. His grip around his rapier tightened once more, as he tried to brace himself for what was to come. “Cain,” he beckoned, trying hard not to think about what he had to do.

The taller male just snorted softly. “Yeah, yeah, the battlefield’s no place for getting sentimental. I hear you.” He was still resting most of his weight on his broadsword. He tried to take a step forward and gasped in pain, his knee buckling to the ground once more. “Well, now. That’s just pathetic.” He gripped his sword handle with one hand, the other grabbing onto his side, where blood was trickling from a large crack in his armor.

Abel said nothing, and walked towards his brother, each stride seeming to take an eternity to complete as he closed the distance between him and Cain. He stopped when he was only a few inches away, and their gazes locked once more. So many unsaid things passed between them in that moment; unspoken apologies, meaningless conversations that would never take place ever again, regret at how broken their relationship had become, only to realize it when there was no time left, and the bonds sundered by pride could no longer be mended. It was too late for things to go back to the way they once were. Far too late. “I’m sorry,” murmured Abel, his voice cracking slightly.

Cain smiled bitterly. “Heh, well. Maybe we’ll have better luck in a different lifetime.” He flashed his older brother one last brilliant smile, and closed his eyes, resigning himself to his fate. He would not run. He would not resist.

A single tear trailed down Abel’s cheek, cutting a line through the dirt and sweat and blood and falling to the ground below. “I’m sorry,” he repeated once more, his voice breaking completely. He tried to quell the tremors in his shoulders and hands, and failed. He took one last, long look at his younger brother and, sucking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and raised his blade towards the heavens. For a moment, neither of them moved. They didn’t breathe. Everything seemed to freeze in that one instant, as brother stood over brother with blade pointed at the ready.


He swung down, and it was over. The deed was done. The price had been paid.