He sat atop an exquisite throne, one knee thrown over the other. Moonlight filtered from arched windows fitted high on the marble walls, casting one end of the silent room in a blue hue.

His crown was one of curved steel, cold and hard to match his granite eyes. His robe was deepest navy and flowed from a clasp around his neck. He leant against a slender hand; his silken black hair covered one of his eyes as he turned his head, face expressing everything he felt without a single movement of a muscle. At this moment, all the silence and darkness held a sinister beauty as his attention was focused on a figure, crouched down on the black and white checkered floor covering the massive room, back facing the bronze double doors which were shut, but which both parties knew were also unlocked.

The figure's head was bowed and a lock of brown hair concealed his face. He was silent as he held the sword which ran into his heart and exited through his back, its blade dripping with blood tinted dark under the shadows.

The dark-haired man spoke, his words so full of loneliness and sorrow despite an expression cut from stone. "Eren, you know what happens when ice and fire meet?"

Eren's hands shook around the bloodied hilt. "One or the other has to go."

The raven-haired man raised himself from his seat, walking steadily across the room. His walk was graceful, almost enchanting, yet it accentuated the barely tangible aura of cold pride and arrogance surrounding him.

Eren didn't look up. He knew Rivaille. Yet, he still forgot how to breathe when he felt a cool finger lift his chin up and he saw the storm of emotion churning in those silvery pits. He didn't realise that he had tears rolling ever so slowly down his cheeks until the other man wiped them away with a gloved thumb.

"You're not dead," Rivaille whispered.

"I wish I was." As each second passed, each crimson bead of blood pooling at the tip of the sword hissed and evaporated in a cloud of steam.

Eren's breath hitched as the prince pried his own hands away from the hilt of the sword, and then tightened his right hand around it, preparing to pull it out.

Rivaille leaned into Eren's ear and spoke in such a soft undertone that it was almost inaudible, but so pleasant to hear at the same time. It was a softness which only Eren knew. "Eren, do you trust me?"

"With my heart, your majesty."

A scream echoed across the room, one which to the light observer, sounded like agony, but to the trained ear, carried undertones of sadness and loss.