It hurts. It aches in every bone, burns in every muscle, yet he keeps silent. Crimson eyes hover over the princess, words dance on the tip of his tongue, but nothing breaks the deafening silence. Pain, hurt, emotion, ache, blood.
Beautiful liquid pours from his mouth, a striking red against the paleness of his skin, brought forth by a gurgling cough. Quickly he covers his mouth, yet still it runs — behind his palm, through his fingers, the essence of life drains from him in horrifying elegance.
"It's… fine," he breathes, his voice barely audible. His hand, stained, moves away from his mouth and finds its way to Kougyoku's cheek, smearing crimson against porcelain as though it were some twisted form of paints.
He knows that he hasn't long before darkness takes its claim, before he rots away into the alluring abyss that is depravity. Brows knit, his face contorts, and he is at a loss. Physical pain means nothing, is nothing, compared to the heaviness that his heart yields.
Soon he finds himself crashing blood-covered lips against soft rose, his marred hand entangled in carmine locks as he kisses his candidate — one final farewell.
"The only… the only place it hurts is—" he coughs as he pulls away, bringing forth another trickle of red, "is in here." A hand points to his heart, his last breathe is exhaled, and he falls limp in the princess's lap.