Blood.

It was everywhere.

A figure stands among the red soiled earth, solitary, but his army stands loyally behind them. The figure turned their twilight grey eyes toward the sky. It was so dark, such a depressing grey as a single word whispered through his mind, breath, death. A draconian lied at his feet, his breathing shallow, but calm with acceptance, but he didn't miss the emotion in the other's eyes. He kneeled down, watching the draconian's face, feelings of pity forming in him.

A boy, he realized. The boy couldn't be any older than his older brother when he died, and the boy flinched at his close proximity. "You're dying," he said quietly, and the draconian closed his eyes, his breathing slowing as the figure slowly sang a lullaby for the draconian's ears only.

"Allen." Linali's voice was smooth as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "That was… noble… of you, but please, come away. The king and queen will be angry if they find out you…"

"He was so young," Allen said, voice soft. "But he's dead now…"

"It's in the past now, you can't change it," she said, firmer. He nodded, unsure as he stared at the corpse before him.

Another battle, Kanda thought, another hundreds of lives taken. How exactly did the entire war start in the first place? He shook his head. Better left unknown, he thought wryly, Rabi might actually come and answer; it'd take up the rest of the day.

Aoba watched her quiet older brother brooding, staring out the windowsill, seeing nothing but miles and miles of stretching forests. He was a reticent creature as of late, and she could see the war taking a toll on his shoulders, especially since Yuuki and her unborn child's deaths. "Brother," she said quietly, and slowly his head turned her way. "The coronation…"

"…I have to go now, don't I?" She could see the clear exhaustion, the weariness in his glassy black eyes as she nodded, pushing him forward out the doors of his vast, gloomy chamber.

"Yes, it's a good thing that you've dressed for it too," she said. Her brother was still the same hard worker that she had always known, and that was one thing she was secretly glad that hasn't changed about him. She did miss his slightly grumpy moods though, as it was preferable to his now sullen ones. "Hurry, they're expecting us, Brother!"

"It's only the ceremony," Kanda said. "I still have to wait another few days to be crowned anyway."

"Whether or not it's only a ceremony or party, it's still important!" Aoba insisted.

As soon as the ceremony (of many boring readings of the ancient scrolls, of Rabi) began, it was thankfully over, much to Kanda's relief, yet he couldn't shake off the emotions of dread that he would soon be crowned as the next Ryuou. But before that would happen, there would be days of parties swimming up to the very brim.

But he didn't want to be king.

Yuuki should've still been alive, sitting tall and proud on her throne and with a little child lying asleep in her arms, and maybe with her mate by her side. He poured the red wine into a crystalline goblet, watching as the red and slight purple swirled around in elegant wisps. How could he have been so stupid? Why didn't he caution his sister to place more guards around the palace? Why hadn't he been there to help protect her? Why didn't he hear her scream?

"Brother," Aoba said softly. "Are you tired? Perhaps you should rest." Kanda nodded. Yes, rest. It was very tempting as he dragged his aching feet, and he supported himself by leaning against his younger sister.

"Aoba?" She listened to her brother's fatigued, forlorn voice.

"I don't want to be Ryuou."

She sighed quietly, squeezing her brother's pale, cool hand. "You will make a fine king, Brother, really. Yuuki will be proud."