Betrayal
He laughed coldly. Of course. It was as he had suspected for a while now. Something about him had always felt off. The Galareone prince had arrived in the Land of the Black Sand irritatingly optimistic and naïve, and a year later he was the same. That was simply not natural.
From the day after Xerxes had arrived, Mozenrath had been searching for that opening, for the slight change in color that belied the chameleon's true identity. Xerxes had been asking more questions as of late. Questions that did not seem completely innocuous, almost as if he was confirming information, feeling for hidden truths. Of course, he was a traitor.
The prince apparently still hoped that he could change Mozenrath's mind by continuing to act his part. The cheerfully ignorant, loyal friend who could do no wrong. His defenses were thin, desperate. Mozenrath cut through them easily.
"Precisely. Congratulations Xerxes, you've actually hit upon my reasons for distrusting you."
In another moment it would all be over for his 'friend.' The knife was against his throat, and his back was against empty air. There was quite a distance to fall, as they both knew from the arduous climb. But Mozenrath would not let him go yet. He had to cut through that last stubborn shield, the chameleon's pigmented skin.
"Now. Confess."
Xerxes' voice was calm against the wind as he gave an unexpected answer, followed by a drastic act of folly. Mozenrath had to admit it was the boldest move he had made yet, to injure himself in the desperate hope of convincing him that he was not a traitor.
And then suddenly the blade of the knife cut in reverse, opening an invisible wound on his consciousness. Mozenrath stared in disbelief and building anger. How dare he? How dare the prince accuse him of being anything like his master, the root of all his suffering and sacrifice? The sick, depraved man who had ruined both their lives?
The gray serenity of Xerxes' eyes seemed to ask him the same question.
Mozenrath's hand trembled on the knife, and he hardly heard the other's next words.
"I'm just being honest. It's just the way I am."
The plain gaze of the Galareone prince gave away nothing as Mozenrath scoured its cool surface for a flicker of color. And he wondered then in slight fear if he was actually wrong, if perhaps the young man's eyes gave away nothing because he had already given him the full truth. The only flicker of color was the line of crimson against the edge of the blade, pressed into his flesh by his own hand. The sight of it suddenly sickened him.
"Let go of the knife."
Neither moved for another moment, and he hated that Xerxes stared back but did not search him, did not question him at all. Slowly, steadily, the prince released the knife, but his gaze was unrelenting, casting the light of truthful accusation upon the man he had called a friend. A man who had nearly killed him.
The earthen ground flickered red as Mozenrath brought the knife away from the prince's throat. Each step of retreat spoke of his failure, and somehow it was hard to breathe as he saw the sheen of suspicion in Xerxes' eyes. Their places were reversed now, almost as if he was the one with his back to empty air, forced to give an account of his betrayal.
But the prince demanded nothing, casting off his doubt and pain but not the clear layer of disappointment now imbued in his gray eyes. He wrapped his wound and began climbing down the mountain as if he could just leave behind everything that had just happened without consequences. He took only his disappointment with him.
Mozenrath pushed past the crippling sense of failure with effort, moving to follow the prince. There was no other choice. But he would keep his distance on the way down. Not because he still held any suspicions, but because he could not face the reflection of betrayal in those gray eyes.
Failure flooded his mind in an alarming deluge as one foot slipped and he skidded down the rocky slope, unable to draw upon his inner power on this accursed mountain. One downward glance revealed his death waiting for him in a crimson blaze across bladed rocks.
A strong hand stopped his descent with a jarring grip, and he looked up with shock into eyes that did not judge his failures. The latter pulled him up firmly, helping him to regain his footing, and Mozenrath saw the reflection of his relief in his friend's disappointed, forgiving gaze.
A/N: Check out the joint account Katie Ann and I created for our Aladdin collaboration fics. The first chapter of our new fic, "Entangled," is posted! Username "ofmiceandmagic," the link is on my profile.
