Then it all crashes down, and you break your crown.
It was all downhill as soon as he gave the order to that harpy that was already near death herself. It was downhill the moment he apologized for the first time in his life. When he said farewell to his most loyal follower, his only true friend. The double agent said his final words without a hint of anger – and that angered him, if that makes any lick of sense – and smiled warmly in the face of imminent death. (Or, maybe, he smiled at the bitter thought of finally sought revenge.)
And you point your finger, but there's no one around.
Nearly two decades later and he's finally faced with the result of that snowy night. The heart and smile tattooed on his chest, taunt him just as much as the memories of years past. His unlikely comrade stares at him with the reckless look of an unplacated child, though he is a child in every sense of the word. His own, long time mentor stands behind him, his muck and mucus dripping off him like rain off a leaf. He laughs and he follows his lead, though, his laugh rings as hollow as a bell. (It probably sounds like it to them as well…) He wonders, is this revenge of a brother long dead?
Just want one thing, just to play the king.
He lies there, as still as the dead brother he never got to bury, rubble and dirt and blood pooling all around him. He's alive, but he doesn't have the strength to finish the fight like he wants to – victorious, truly like a demon sent from the heavens. All the years of work and effort, of killing and manipulating are forever lost. If he could move a muscle in his body right now, he would be laughing with tears cleaning away the dirt and blood that cakes his face. Years after surviving the horror of a childhood that doesn't deserve that name, he's presented with another day of horror to relive in the long nights of futures come. (Was he not allowed to take this world's earthly treasures as is his celestial birthright? No, he was only allowed to suffer indefinitely and without conscience. That's how this cruel world works, right?)
But the castle's crumbled and you're left with just a name.
He stares out at the ocean. It's blue, the clearest blue he's seen since he doesn't even know when. He guesses it's as blue as the sky above everybody on this godforsaken world of islands and kingdoms, of water and earth, of possible treasure and infamy. He was meant to be up there overlooking everyone who wasn't blessed with the blood of a Heavenly Dragon. And for a second that felt like ten years, he was above everyone. He was king. But now…
Where's your crown, King Nothing?