Author's Note: Both themes of suicide and murder in here soooo…. um… beware guys.
It passed through Viktor's mind that the scene before him was actually quite beautiful. The sun had barely risen and its young, new beams reaching toward the earth had signaled the start of the day. (Had he really been sitting here for that long?) The light touched the air above the aqua sea, driving away the marine layer and the cool of night and brought forth a salt-tinged, curling breeze that swept across his face.
Longer, he waited.
The sun no longer hiding under horizon, the endless water a blanket it finally shrugged off. In the distance, he heard the stirrings of activity of the kingdom behind him starting to wake. The cool rocks he sat upon slowly reviving themselves under the sun's guidance and warming with the seaside air. Birds began to chirp and chatter amongst themselves.
It was all so tranquil, so beautiful… Viktor almost reconsidered just to admire it all indefinitely.
But then the full commotion of the kingdom broke through the serenity, drowning out the subtlety of the world reawakening through the droning of a busy day in the markets.
Imagining all those people going on about their day rekindled the loneliness and isolation within him, hollow, heavy, and cold at the center of his chest. He swung his legs as they dangled from his precarious perch at the top of the seaside cliff as the waves below rhythmically washed over the rocks, welcoming him, enticing him to join the aquatic symphony.
The day was indeed beautiful.
It was a good day to die.
A great boom of an empty cannon rumbled in the distance behind him. To celebrate the twenty-first birthday of the essentially nonexistent youngest son of the king and queen of the Southern Isles, he remembered mildly.
How ironic, he thought to himself, that the entire kingdom's attention was invested in someone who might as well be a part of fiction; whereas someone like himself who worked so hard as an honest man to survive in a world where if enough people were convinced you were a sorcerer, no matter how untrue it was, you were easily ostracized and everyone would turn a blind to your existence. Then again, it was probably that people put more worth in the royal family than to someone who would sweep the streets for a living.
There was no such thing as justice in this world. Family meant nothing, and friendship and loyalty even less so.
Viktor wanted no part of it.
"A lovely view, isn't it?"
Viktor almost toppled forward from the sudden intrusion of his solitude, but a steady hand caught his shoulder before he could lose his balance and plummet into the sea prematurely. Indignantly, he turned to look at the stranger beside him, annoyed that he no longer had this moment to himself anymore. Just this thought alone caused tears to prick and well in his eyes and he had to turn away to look at the waves below again, not able to properly identify the intruder.
Through tear-blurred eyes, he could make out a pair of expensive leather boots with just as exquisite trousers tucked creaseless into them, a gold stripe of embroidery running along the side seam he could see. The shorter pair of legs dangled just as dangerously over the seaside cliff as his own were, but they were stock-still like a statue.
Viktor couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. He didn't want some stranger's face to be the last thing on his mind as he went through with this. It felt sacrilegious for some reason.
"How are you faring?" the stranger continued. "Well, I hope?"
Viktor shrugged a shoulder, but kept silent.
"I hope you know this isn't a good idea, nor should it be seen as a solution."
Viktor hunched over and covered his face with his hands, the tears finally spilling onto his face.
"I'm just so sick of all of it," Viktor said. "Why does it always happen to the innocent people?"
"Does what happen?"
"I lost everything!" Viktor snapped, finally glaring at the stranger, getting a good look at his face.
Except the stranger wasn't a stranger. Not completely.
Viktor jolted in surprise, but this time he lost his command of his precarious perch, it felt like he was ultimately going to fall off the cliff like he intended.
Or he would have, if he wasn't tackled just in time away from the edge and to safety, Viktor's back now screaming in protest as tiny rocks poked into his skin.
"My apologies, Prince Hans," Viktor said, in shock, everything around him a blur of movement, the prince casting a worried look over him as the royal twitched and jittered from what was apparently adrenaline. "I didn't intend to speak in such a harsh manner."
Either Viktor was still in shock and he must have hit his head, or there was a trail of motes of light or tiny luminescent raindrops that floated around the prince as he moved away from him. sitting on his heels.
Or little mirror particles, as if they were caught in a different frame of time as they flew, suspended in the air; a split-second moment when silver-backed glass shattered and spread its pieces everywhere.
As soon as he noticed, they vanished, and the prince seemed near the brink of panic now.
Hm. Yes, it appeared that he must've hit is head very hard. He wondered if Prince Hans was worried about his wellbeing, or if he was concerned that, should Viktor die, he'd surely ruin the family reputation for accidentally killing a peasant.
Of course, it would've been because he was trying to save a suicidal peasant, but that was beside the point.
The Southern Isles was rather strict—even to its princes—after all.
"Where is your family?" the prince asked.
"I have none," Viktor said simply. "They threw me out."
"A home then?"
"Landlord threw me out as well."
"Friends?"
Viktor couldn't help but offer a feeble laugh at this point. "My answer would further remind me of why the seas call me, if you understand this line of answers to your questions."
The prince sighed. "Tell me why, then."
"Like this concerns you."
Prince Hans brought his feet out from under him to sit cross-legged beside Viktor, an undignified manner of sitting unbecoming a man of his social and political status. Prince Hans leaned back slightly as he took in his surroundings. "What is your name, then?"
"Viktor."
"Viktor…" the prince seemed to be searching his memory, then snapped his attention away from their surroundings back to him. "You don't happen to sweep the streets, do you? Wife a seamstress?"
Viktor gaped in surprise. Prince Hans must have excellent recall if he knew that about him.
Or was strangely fixated on him, morbidly enough.
"Used to, until the rumors ruined my life."
"But according to the records, you were cleared upon the conclusion of the investigation."
"By law, I am not a magician; but in the eyes of the people, suspicion still dominates. I can never be free from that mark, not even after I get hanged from the gallows like they want."
Prince Hans turned his eyes toward the seas just a few feet from where they were.
"I've learned very early on that magic is unfair," the prince said. "Everyone it affects, it twists and bends a person beyond anything recognizable, including those without the curse. Then one day, that person will get the chance to see themselves reflected in the mirror of reality and see how much of a monster they've devolved into and consider what you're considering. Friends betray you, family would no longer care if you lived or died, and you yourself can no longer see the good in the world. Because of this, I've learned to hate magic and all it represents."
"So why do you care so much about my situation?" Viktor asked.
The prince didn't tear his eyes away from the ocean. "I had suspicions about the treatment of those acquitted from accusations such as yours, and I intend to do something about it, I just needed more proof to help my case. And considering that something looked amiss in the square, I noticed that you were missing."
"But how did you know to find me here?"
"This cliff is rather popular for the hopeless." He shrugged. "My brother found me here when I was little, and no one really comes here just for the view, as he said."
The two of them let that statement settle for a while.
The sounds of celebration in the kingdom continued in the distance, music and cheering flew through the trees to remind them of a world they weren't participating in. Viktor shut his eyes at let himself just soak in the separation between him and civilization, to just simply be.
"I've also learned," the prince continued in a lower voice, cutting through the weighted silence, "that I'm willing to try anything to ensure the safety of the Southern Isles, especially from myself."
Viktor blinked, the sudden dark tone catching him by surprise.
"What do you mean?" Viktor asked.
Viktor blinked, and suddenly he was surrounded by the ocean as he lay harmlessly on top as if the water repelled his presence. His ears and his eyes couldn't quite agree if the water was right next to him since the sounds of the seas were far off in the distance while what he saw said otherwise. Prince Hans was nowhere in sight.
He blinked again, and he was back atop the cliff beside the prince as if nothing happened.
"You're a…" Viktor trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to say it. This was a prince. How in the world did the Southern Isles let this happen when others like him couldn't retain innocence?
"Yes, and no one knows," the prince said.
"Except me."
"If we want to get into semantics, except you and Prince Søren."
"Prince Søren knew?"
"Only because he was a magician as well. I owe it to him to test out this theory I've had for a while."
Viktor was afraid to ask. "Which is...?"
"Magicians tend to lose their sanity later in adolescence, often trying to kill someone for no reason. I've just turned twenty-one and I haven't had that happen to me yet, and I have my methods to resist the urges. But I've been wondering if I could be rid of that day altogether if I just… kill someone while I'm still sane."
Viktor stood up in alarm, his head spinning and he stumbled around. He forgot about his head injury.
Prince Hans stood up even quicker, grabbing his wrist, twisting it behind his back, and covering Viktor's mouth to keep him from screaming out for help.
"This life isn't worth living, Viktor," the prince said, voice wavering. "But I know that if I destroy myself, I can never save the innocent people. Prince Søren's death would have been in vain, the pain and injustices my friend Ivar had to endure would continue in others, and people like you would die to be forgotten in history with no one that cared for them anymore.
"But I have a duty to the kingdom. I want to make this a better place for anyone to live, magician and non-magician alike. Believe me when I say that I never wanted to resort to anything this drastic, but I'm desperate. I need to know, so maybe I can pass this knowledge to someone in a similar situation like me where their powers aren't inherently dangerous."
Viktor began to cry. He didn't want this, not anymore. His sobs were muffled behind the prince's hand. Prince Hans began to cry as well.
"I'm sorry," Prince Hans whispered. "I'm so, so sorry." He heaved a long breath. "But you were the best candidate for this and I can't let this chance escape me. No one would doubt what happened to you once I tell them that you jumped to your death after I failed to convince you to reconsider. You have all the motives, and you walked here on your own accord." He started to lead Viktor back to the cliff, twisting his arm harder as he struggled. "At least know that if there is an afterlife and should your actions be judged, it wasn't yourself who dealt the killing stroke but someone else. But I promise you and whatever powers that be that happen to be listening, I will not take another's life ever again. I've fallen far, but I'm not going to fall so far to make this into a habit."
With one swift motion, Viktor felt a boot kick him in the back as hands released then re-grasped him by the side of his head. His head twisted to the side suddenly from the strong hold on him, he heard and felt his neck snapping.
It wasn't instant as Viktor had hoped.
His body limp from his injured spine, he was helpless to react to his plummet into the ocean. He screamed on the way down, and his voice still carried on even as he sank into the water and his useless limbs did nothing to save him.
He spent his last breath cursing Prince Hans before his lungs filled with water.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! If I haven't quite frightened you off from this fic, then it means that I can't scare you off from now on.
Just remember, I don't condone the behaviors listed in the warning above, nor do I believe that Hans' actions are justified. I just have… strange paths for my "creativity," I guess.
I hope none of you guys get super attached to anyone that isn't a part of the canon. I have a rather nasty habit of killing them off without me really planning to (as evidenced by my other fics).