#Remus was a knight like Roman but he went all 'noooope' at murdering Virge

[leconcombrerit]

Since I have decided to get back to writing, I did a thing to go with this. Kind of a follow-up. Or like, the ending of the story ? I don't know, I've speed-written this just now because I got inspired and you do not reject inspiration or it might never grace you with its presence again.

Anyway, I haven't written in years, let alone in English, so I have no idea if it's good or not. It's important to allow yourself to write badly though, so in case anyone is interested, here is the thing (she said, staring at the thing with more than a little skepticism).

I'd put a warning for character death and blood. Nothing gory, but the word "blood" does pop a few times.

2055 words, it's a quick read.

“Your Majesty ! They’re almost at the door. They’ve reached the third floor already, I-”

Roman had barged in the study, panic painted in blood and exhaustion on his face. His once immaculate uniform and stainless sword were smeared with red. Red, red everywhere. Logan didn’t move. He sat at his desk, his eyes going over lines and lines on the register laid out before him, battle plans and books discarded in an unusual mess on the ground. He hadn’t left the room in days, when it had become clear they were losing. The king could have come down to see his troops; harangued the men and tried to light up the embers of courage in their heart in the face of defeat. He could have put up a better fight, a more flamboyant one.

Logan had never been the flamboyant kind though. His reign had been a stern but prosperous one. He couldn’t recall the day it had gone wrong. Perhaps it had been a slow curve rather than a fork at the road. Perhaps he’d always walked that path, and now he could see the end unfold.

“Your Majesty ! Logan !”

Roman slammed his hands on the desk, sending a delicate inkwell tumble down the floor with a slight chime.

“We’ve got to go”, he said, running his fingers through his disheveled hair, now pacing around the room. Roman had always paid attention to his looks, but not much of the dashing perfect knight had survived the fights that had been going on for days. “Look, we can… We can go somewhere.”

“And where would that be, praytell ? We’re surrounded.”

“I don’t know ! Anywhere ! They’re almost here, Logan !”

He’d choked on the last few words, in a high-pitched voice that seemed at odds with his otherwise combative demeanor. Fear had crept its way up his throat and sat over his shoulders, hunched a little under its weight. Logan raised his head and found it in him to look Roman in the eyes. He wasn’t scared of the angry masses and soldiers demanding his surrender outside -but meeting this man’s gaze terrified him. He didn’t find any trace of the resentment or hatred he’d supposed to see there ; only fear, burning resolve, and a plea to run.

Logan couldn’t say whether he felt crushed or relieved.

“I won’t go anywhere, Roman.”

“But your Majesty, we must-”

Footfalls and armor clatters cut his sentence short and Roman darted a fierce gaze at the door, as if the weight of his will alone would keep the rebels from busting it open once they’d reach it. It was all useless, in the end.

Logan stood up and walked to the window, glancing down at the mismatched army laying at his feet. Some of those people had once been his men. Some had even been loyal. Some had been peaceful citizens, going about their lives with nothing but the faintest idea of what fighting was. Above them, patches of blue skies sometimes shone through the smoke. He raised a hand, the glass cold under his fingers. A man he once called his friend stood somewhere in this crowd, his scarred face probably raised at the castle. Logan wondered if Janus could see him from where he was. He wondered if victory tasted as sweet and as sour as he’d thought it would.

“Patton went to talk to Janus. Maybe -maybe he’ll talk him out of this.”

Roman had joined him by the window, his jaw clenched. He’d apparently run out of escape routes plans.

“He won’t. And even if he did”, Logan added before Roman could retort anything, “it wouldn’t change anything. It’s gone too far already. Even Janus couldn’t do anything.”

There always came a point when logic and reason stopped working. No matter how much Logan had wanted to believe it, they weren’t what moved people, nor were they what held Roman by his side, covered in the blood of people who’d been his comrades, shaking like a leaf and standing a ground that was caving in under his feet.

Maybe things would have turned out differently had he realized this before asking him to kill Virgil. A shudder ran up his spine -Virgil. But he’d been so sure, so certain of his treason -his, and Janus’, and Remus’, and it had made sense, it had been the only possibility to make sense-

Are you happy now ? You had him killed, and now they’ve all betrayed you. What a self-fulfilled prophecy. What tragic, tragic irony.

“I’m sorry.”

“What ?” Roman was frowning, puzzled. It wasn’t like Logan to apologize. It wasn’t like him to even be sorry. “I made my own choice. If I stay here, it’s because I…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh.”

Logan felt a tight knot in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn’t really swallow. The words were stuck there, unwilling to get past his lips. Some things are better left untold. He already knew the answer. And still he needed to ask.

“You loved him, didn’t you ?”

Roman avoided his gaze, instead staring at the black smoke coils spiralling up the clouds. The silence stretched for so long Logan thought he wouldn’t say anything. It was an easy question. Had that same haunted look distorted his face when he’d plunged his sword in Virgil’s side ? Or had this ghost been born that night, concealed in the day to howl in his dreams ? Other soldiers had heard Roman cry in his sleep, muttering unintelligible words. Logan could guess what they’d been. He’d known. He’d known as well when he’d asked Roman to get rid of him. But Virgil had been loved at the castle. Logan had thought it safer to ask Roman. He trusted him. He had not cared.

And he was sorry. It didn’t change anything. Apologies did not bring back the dead. They did not make you stop missing someone.

“He was my sun”, Roman finally answered, a slight tremor in his voice, fists clenched over the windowsill. They hadn’t talked about it much. Silence and denial had been a badly wrapped bandage on a gouging wound, and the words threatened to spill out of it now that it had been removed. “I loved him so much. I… I didn’t want to do it.”

“But I told you to. And you did.”

Roman turned to face him. He opened his mouth, but screams and loud bangs at the door cut him short. He swallowed hard, squared up and unsheathed his sword, positioning himself between his king and the door. Any minute now.

“You killed him because I ordered you to.”

“Logan, now is not the time-”

“Don’t you get it ?”, Logan finally snapped, venom in his voice, “they’re getting in whether you stay here or not ! They all turned on me, and you of all people should have-”

“Logan ! Your Majesty”, Roman interrupted him, turning his head to glance at him over his shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. I’d protect you even if you put out the sun, remember ?”

He said it with a sad smile, slightly askew. Logan could tell when Roman was putting on his brave face. Logan’s chest tightened ; it wasn’t fair. This dumb childhood promise had nothing to do in this room, among the smells of distant smoke and iron, minutes before he was taken away to a trial and a life in a dark cell. It should have stayed in the past where it belonged. A sun-kissed afternoon filled with the scent of earth and gardenias. It shouldn’t have been tainted with violence.

But you did this. You tainted it first. Logan did nothing to silence the voice at the back of his head. Janus had been right about oaths. They held people hostage the moment they gave it any value. Break it and you’ll break your heart. Don’t, and it will bleed all the same. It hadn’t been Roman’s fault. It had been his.

Heavy blows made the door shake in its hinges. The heavy wood wouldn’t last long now. Roman’s joints had gone white as he tightened his grip on his sword.

It hadn’t been his fault.

“You didn’t kill him to protect me. You did it because I ordered you to.”

“Can you please just shut it ?!”

Under any other circumstances, Logan would have shot him a murderous glare -no, he corrected. Under no other circumstances would Roman have talked to him in such a manner. The king said nothing, his back against the window. He had made up his mind.

“You said he was innocent. You told me.”

“It doesn’t change anything now, so quit your-”

“You killed an innocent man to obey me. Surely you can kill a murderer for the same reason.”

“What are you…”

Roman seemed torn between standing at the door to defend his king against the assaillants that would soon break in and facing him to find a clue to what he meant on his face. He didn’t want to understand, that much was clear enough.

“You’re pointing your sword towards the wrong person.”

He took a step toward the knight, praying his knees wouldn’t fail him now. There was nothing to fear about death, he told himself. He knew neither Janus nor Remus would try to kill him, no matter how badly they might have wanted him dead. Patton wouldn’t have lied about this. Remus most likely led the charge to make sure he was alive for his trial. If he just opened the door, or waited a little longer, they’d drag him out and he’d live to see the sun rise many times over again -if he got lucky enough to get a cell with a window.

He hadn’t thought much about death. It had barely been an option. And even on the brink of it, the weight of his own demise barely occurred to him.

He wrapped his fingers around Roman’s wrist, lifting it towards him. It couldn’t be that hard.

“Logan, they won’t… They won’t kill you, Patton said they wouldn’t kill you, so what are you…”

“Do it.”

“No !” Roman jerked back, a mix of fear and disgust replacing any bravado or perplexity he’d shown a second prior. Of course he’d say no.

His most loyal and cherished friend.

“This isn’t a suggestion. This is an order.”

“I’m not taking this order”, he immediately retorted with a cold voice.

“Then you killed Virgil for nothing.”

He spoke faster now, the words stumbling from his lips. The cracks coming from the doors besought him to get it done fast. Now or never. Now. He ignored Roman’s wide-eyed shock and senseless words. He’d wanted to see the world -he’d wanted to be a knight, and an adventurer. Not to rot in a prison for pledging allegiance to the wrong man.

It might have been much too late, but Logan wanted to believe that a last moment change of heart might help him. Maybe he was simply running away -from his responsibilities, from guilt, from failure. He’d be but a footnote in history, and he didn’t mind.

He wanted Roman to be free.

“I can’t lose you too, I can't-”

Logan felt the cold steel pierce his chest the moment the door caved in in a cloud of dust and splinters. He hadn’t thought it would hurt so much -not for long. He saw Roman’s face, and he heard someone scream. His voice, Roman’s, or maybe both. He saw Remus holding his men back, sprinting towards them -he was yelling something too, lost in the chaos and confusion.

If he killed him, if he got on the right side of things at last, then maybe-

Maybe.

Logan thought he heard his name. He hadn’t felt the fall, but he felt the cold stone under his head, and the warm blood under his back, and warm tears that weren’t his on his cheeks -so much warmer than any he’d ever shed.

He opened his mouth -to say something, anything. Maybe that he was sorry. That he wished things had been different, that he too had wanted to run away, and that he’d been wrong, so wrong.

He made no sound. Just a buzzing in his ears, a hole in his chest and a silent hope.

You’ll be alright, Roman.

You’ll be alright.

I got a request about prince Logan and knight Roman and my brain started to do its thing where it strays way too far and, long story short, I doodled this and got lazy. Thought I'd share it anyway ? I kinda like how Logan's face turned out.

I'll be in my corner, doodling my stuff and drinking tea.