(Xerxes's POV)
No.
The former prince of Pandora bit his lip to stop a sob from escaping his mouth, and his head pounded under the hood pulled high over it. His heart was beating erratically, unsteadily, thumping like the hooves of a horse on stone. At this rate, he wouldn't be surprised if it beat its way through his chest and spilled out onto the ground, twitching and moving.
He stared up at the scene before him. It was frightening. Chilling. Terrifying. Soul-piercing, bone-shattering, life-threatening terror.
On a raised platform, its blade glinting majestically in the hot noon sun, was the guillotine. As Xerxes's eyes fell upon it, his body trembled as he recalled every single death that had occurred here, in this very place, at this very guillotine. Every single death that had been ordered by him.
All of those times, he'd felt nothing. The peasant was going to die - so what? They were worthless anyway - no better than the insects that were squashed under his feet. Their lived were expendable, insignificant, unimportant. He himself had given the order for the blade to fall, watching impassively, and sometimes even with satisfaction, as the head flew from the body and the people let out cries of terror and grief.
But this time, it was different. This time, that was not the case.
This time, he was shaking with horror, his eyes threatening to spill the tears gathering against them.
Why? he wondered. Why was this particular incident bringing him so many unfamiliar emotions? This death wasn't even on his orders - it wasn't even his fault. So what was the guilt and sorrow that flooded in his heart and soul?
No...he was lying to himself.
This death was his fault. It was not on his orders, sure, but it might as well have been. He was the one to blame for this.
Standing a mere ten feet from the guillotine was her.
The girl he loved.
Arte.
Seeing her almost broke Xerxes's already crumbling composure. He felt the meager bits of remaining strength in his body start to drain away, and teetered dangerously close to collapsing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to wail. He wanted to fall at Arte's feet and beg her forgiveness, but really, why would she forgive him?
He didn't deserve her forgiveness. He didn't deserve anyone's forgiveness.
Arte's head was held high, Xerxes realized with a jolt. Her face was set, her eyes were unwavering. Her back was straight, and there was no hint of fear anywhere around her. It was as if she mocked the whole world for trying to end her life. The only emotion that came off of his friend as her icy gaze swept over the people was icy scorn. The royal dress that had belonged to Xerxes's mother was now damp, wrinkled, and torn, looking more like peasant's clothes than royalty's. Arte's golden hair was a mess of tangles, and her face was smudged with dirt and grime.
Despite all that, she looked like royalty. She looked more like royalty than Xerxes had ever looked. The outfit, despite all of its flaws, billowed from side to side with the wind, as did her long hair that seemed to catch the sunlight and amplify it. At least, it looked like that to Xerxes.
Standing halfway between Arte and the guillotine were three people - one male, two females. One of the girls had long, purplish-black hair and soulful amethyst eyes. She was rather short, but carried herself with determination and spirit, if not elegance that a lady should have. Xerxes recognized her immediately - Alice, the leader of this revolution, as well as Arte's foster sister. She must have been devastated when Shelly died. the former prince realized. The revelation shocked him. Since when did he consider the feelings of insignificant commoners?
The other female was a beautiful woman with doe-like emerald green, long pale golden hair, and had the sophistication missing from Alice, but none of the leadership and will. She looked like she was simply following Arte's foster sister. And yet, her eyes that took in Arte were ripe with hatred and resentment. She hated Arte. This was Ada Vessalius, Princess of Reveille. Xerxes had heard a rumor that she was in love with Gilbert Baskerville.
The man that Xerxes had commanded Arte to kill. Her sorrow. Her horror. Her devastated, blank look when she'd returned.
The last one - the male - looked vaguely familiar to Xerxes. He'd met him somewhere, he was sure, he just couldn't recall where, why, and how exactly. With his raven-black hair, steel-gray eyes, and lean frame, Xerxes supposed he was rather good-looking (albeit of rather short stature, only slightly taller than the petite Arte), though the faint scowl on his face and the iciness in his orbs would have cowed a considerable amount of people. Then it clicked - the man's sister had been executed by Xerxes's command, and the former prince had witnessed him glaring up at him with hateful eyes. What stood out the most, though, was the way the man looked at Arte. It was not romantic interest - nothing even remotely close. No, it was a look of...respect. What had put that there?
"Citizens of Pandora!" Alice shouted, and the bustling crowd fell silent. Xerxes felt nausea build up in his stomach until he was sure that he'd lose the contents of his nonexistent breakfast. "As you all are aware, we stormed the castle in search of Prince Xerxes, whom we believed to be the cause of our suffering and poverty. In truth, this was not the case. Prince Xerxes was nothing more than a blind, devoted, manipulated puppet - the true evil behind all of our sorrows was Arte Rainsworth, the Princess of Evil!"
As the crowd cheered, Xerxes wondered if the world had fallen away under him, leaving him hanging in emptiness and nothingness. Arte had claimed that she'd been manipulating him? That everything he did was because of her? She'd taken the burden of all the hatred and loathing spat at him and placed it on her own shoulders - this he could tell just by the look of revulsion and detestation in the citizens' eyes as they gazed at his friend.
She'd tainted herself - for him.
Arte...Xerxes thought. His heart felt like it was rending straight in two. How could he not be dead? How was he still alive? It hurt. It hurt too much. He couldn't take it. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't shoulder it. How had his brain not malfunctioned yet?
The prince longed to stretch a hand out towards his friend - his love. But, alas, he couldn't. It would blow his cover - it would destroy all of Arte's efforts to keep him safe, to protect him. And so, he restrained himself, and only reached toward her in a spiritual sense. The fingers on his figurative hand curled desperately, painfully.
I love you.
(Arte's POV)
It's time.
Arte stepped forward, allowing her eyes to slip closed fora brief, blissful moment. Just for that heartbeat, nothing was happening. None of this was real.
Then her lashes fluttered open again, the the cruel reality burned its way into her soul. She was about to die.
Each step she took brought her ever-so-close, closer and closer, to her end. Every step forward was every step toward her doom.
Despite that, the Princess of Evil kept walking. I am steel, ice, and stone. she reminded herself. I am the puppet master behind the countless executions Xerxes ordered. I am the cause of Pandora's suffering and dissatisfaction, and I am proud of it. I am the Princess of Evil.
And so, she slipped into her mask. The mask of a cold, apathetic, cruel, merciless ruler, who cared for nothing and no one but herself. Who would use anything and everything available to have her way, to further her own goals, because that was the kind of person she was. A twisted, evil girl who cared nothing for what others thought of her or felt towards her. A woman whose loyalty lay with herself, and only herself.
Eventually, her feet had taken her halfway to her death, where Alice, Ada, and Levi were standing. As she walked past them, the girl smiled sadly, letting her pain show. "Please...leave him be." she requested. Alice, whose eyes were filled with indecision, guilt, and torment, nodded her consent. Arte closed her eyes, murmuring, "Thank you."
Levi stepped forward ever-so-slightly, his gray eyes locked onto her ocean-blue ones. She detected admiration, understanding, and a hint of sorrow in the man's orbs as he bowed his head slightly to her, as if in greeting. Except, this was no greeting.
"Farewell," Levi said in a soft but steady voice. "Arte Rainsworth, Maid of Evil."
The girl started at the name, then allowed a brief smile to take over her weary face. "Farewell," she responded. "Levi."
With that small, unnoticeable exchange, Alice, Ada, and Levi watched as the real Arte Rainsworth - kind, loyal, loving, gentle, altruistic, determined - vanished behind the apathetic, selfish, merciless, cold-hearted, deceptive, cunning Princess of Evil.
The icy-eyed girl halted in front of the guillotine, eyes raking the people that stood there to witness her death. Her face twisted in a scornful sneer and she knelt and placed her head in the hole. She did not show the least bit of fear, because she was the Princess of Evil, and she feared nothing.
Then her eyes fell upon a certain someone, and they widened imperceptibly.
He was standing there, the hood pulled tightly over his head, but Arte could see the red orbs beneath the fabric and the beautiful silver hair that she had always loved so much. But his eyes...they were misty and full of...tears. Just like...just like ten years ago, when fate had ripped two pitiful friends apart.
A very, very long time ago
There was a kingdom of treacherous inhumanity
It was Xerxes Break, her beloved friend. Her darling prince. The person that the world knew as a selfish, tyrannical ruler of the country of Pandora, and now, the weak-willed, manipulated, foolish puppet figurehead.
Neither of those were true.
Xerxes Break was the kind, caring boy that she loved so much.
And the person reigning at the top
Was the kind person I loved so much.
She had no regrets.
And yet...
What was the terror that was pulsing in her body, her veins, her heart?
There was a blade over her head, the metal surface glinting malevolently in the sunlight, ready to fall, cleave into the skin, the tendons, the nerves, the bone. It was ready to slice into her neck and send her head flying. To make her blood spill, splatter over the cobblestone and bathe everything red.
This was the end of her line.
This was the end of her life.
I...the realization shattered through Arte's resolve. I don't...want to die. I'm only fifteen. I don't want to die. I still...I still want to see the mountains...the ocean...the world. I don't want to leave yet!
Her eyes fell once again upon Xerxes's form. His eyes were wide, haunted, and remorseful, seeming to suck her into their ruby depths. His complexion had always been rather pale, but right now it was a bleached, bone-colored white. He seemed to be shaking, Arte noted with shock. She had never seen such a look of pure horror on her Xer's face.
Somehow, this calmed her down. Xerxes was terrified, he was horror-stricken, he was filled with such potent regret.
He was learning his lesson.
He had survived and was maturing into the selfless young man that Arte had always known he'd had somewhere deep inside.
She'd succeeded in protecting him. The entire world had runed against her Xer, but she'd stood against them and protected him.
My life is worth that. Xerxes...don't worry about me. Just please...run far away, where no one can hurt you, and...be happy.
Even if the entire world
Should become your enemy
I will protect you
So you just be happy somewhere else.
This didn't mean Arte was no longer frightened. No, she was certainly frightened. She was terrified.
But she was content. With her life, she had protected Xerxes's own. And she was satisfied with that.
Still...
Just as her resolve had nearly hardened to steel, just as she was about to surrendur herself to her fate, Arte realized there was something else. There was one more, just one more thing that she wanted.
If we could be...
The sound of footsteps caught her attention. Ada was walking forward with Alice and Levi a little way behind. The woman's eyes were filled with potent hatred as she glared down at Arte. She seemed to be about to raise a foot and kick her - after all, Arte was an easy target, on her knees with her head ready to be sliced clean off - but Levi stopped the princess with a firm hand. Ada's burning gaze snapped to him, but he didn't seem intimidated and simply shook his head no.
Then the man she'd come to consider a friend took a single step toward the guillotine as the bells of the church moved.
Ding!
One.
Ding!
Two.
Ding!
Three.
Three o'clock.
Arte's scheduled execution.
Xerxes, watching from below, had frozen stiff. His eyes had snapped to the bells, filled with desperation and panic. He was frantically mouthing something that seemed to be "No, no, no, no..." and his head was shaking faintly but wildly. His trembling had increased until Arte was afraid his legs would give out under him.
"Princess of Evil." Levi's voice cut through the tension-filled silence. Arte craned her neck to catch a glimpse of his face, seeing the cold professionalism on it, but she also didn't fail to notice the faint hint of remorse. Perhaps he thought she didn't deserve to die, or perhaps just the fact he was killing someone had sparked that guilt. It didn't really matter, though.
"Do you have any words left to speak to God?" Levi intoned without emotion. Behind him, Alice raised her arm, her face torn with guilt and grief, and Arte knew that the moment her foster sister's arm went down was the moment her own head flew.
Arte closed her eyes, aware of the penetrating stares of the people, including Xerxes. They were wondering what she'd do - beg God for forgiveness? Confess her sins? Perhaps simply cry and scream in terror?
She did none of those things.
She was the Princess of Evil, and she didn't beg for forgiveness, confess sins, or cry and scream in terror.
I will keep up the mask until the very end.
And so, the Princess of Evil closed her eyes and directed a scornful, mocking smile toward the people witnessing her end, the man and two women directing her death, and the world.
Her mouth opened, everyone strained to her the final words that would come out of the reviled, loathed, feared girl. The person who'd manipulated the ruler of the country, or so they believed, into ordering countless unjust deaths and never once using any of his endless resources to assist the suffering people. What would be the last words that came from the Princess of Evil?
"Ha, look at you filthy peasants. How pathetic!"
Outwardly, the Princess of Evil expressed her unending scorn for the commoners that she considered so insignificant and inferior to herself.
But inwardly, she let her last wish flutter into the air.
Farewell, Xerxes. If we could be reborn, I want to be with you again.
SHINK!
Citizens let out cries of horror and surged backwards, scrambling over themselves to get away from the decapitated, bloody head of now clouded, lifeless blue eyes, and long, golden tresses.
(Xerxes's POV)
Blank.
The boy's mind was blank. Vacant. White. Soundless.
His body trembled as he stared uncomprehendingly at the head lying lifeless at his feet, the red liquid spilling from its severed neck. The beautiful cyan orbs that he had always found so beautiful were empty and soulless. Her sunlit locks were tangled, dirty, and stained with blood - her blood.
Arte was...
For one blissful second, the former prince of Pandora didn't understand the true gravity, the true weight, of the situation.
Just for one second, though.
After that second passed, everything came crashing down on him.
Arte was dead. She was gone. She would never get up again. She would never smile at him again. She would never laugh with him again. She would never talk to him again. She was gone. She was dead.
And it was his fault.
Spinning around, unable to face the gruesome, horrifying scene any longer, Xerxes shoved his way through the crowd, all the while surpressing the sobs, the cries, the wails that threatened to burst from his chest. He couldn't look at it anymore. He couldn't.
The Prince of Evil had learned his lesson. He'd been arrogant, selfish, and rude, giving no thought to the citizens he was supposed to lead, protect, and govern fairly. And the worst part was that it hadn't been him who'd payed the price for his own foolishness.
It had been Arte.
Why was I always so selfish and inconsiderate? I was self-centered and rude to everyone, even...even Arte herself.
The tears that he'd managed to hold back until now broke free and streamed freely down his cheeks as he fled from the death of his best friend - the death that he had caused, the realization almost breaking him. Arte had given her life to protect him. She'd been the only one to serve him loyally, even after he became a monster, a tyrant, and he'd never once done anything to deserve her devotion. All he did to his dear friend was make her suffer.
He'd realized his mistake, the error in his ways, his sins...but it was too late. It was all over. Everything was all over.
I realized my sins too late.
As Xerxes finally broke away from the crowd and ran down a shadowy alleyway, he let the scream he'd been holding back erupt from his throat as he fell to his knees, his legs no longer able to support him through the crushing, world-shaking, soul-shattering regret.
It's my fault. It's my fault. It's all my fault.
And he couldn't fix anything. Arte was already dead. She had already left the world. Where was her soul now? Was it soaring gracefully in the sky, free of all worldly burdens and guilts? Free of all the sorrows, pains, and weights that accompanied life? Or was it here with him right now, staring at him in disgust, rightfully blaming him for all he'd done wrong? Was it screaming at him for doing this to her?
The princes curled up in a ball on the dirty ground, not even noticing the grime that stained his clothes, buried his head in his hands, and sobbed. Surely, he was dying. Surely, the world was coming to a stop. Surely, the sky was rumbling and falling. How could he even breathe through this guilt, this remorse, this sorrow? How could his heart go on beating?
My fault. Everything is all my fault.
He squeezed his eyes shut as images of Arte's decapitated head flashed in front of him mind, but even with his lids firmly closed, the horrible memories wouldn't leave his mind. He couldn't unsee what he'd seen. He couldn't take back all his mistakes. He couldn't bring Arte back, no matter how much he regretted.
The one person who'd always been by his side was now gone. Thanks to him. Because of him and his foolish, selfish actions. He was all alone.
I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Arte...Please...forgive me.
You are the prince, I am the maid
Destiny divided these tragic friends
For the sake of protecting you,
I will even become evil.
A fragment of Arte's last wish whispered in the air before it was blown away by the cold, bitter wind.
If we could be reborn
I want to be with you again.
_
OMG it's finished, I cannot believe I finally finished this story. I will be making two sequels - one called Regret Message, all from Xerxes's POV, and one called Re-Birthday, all from Arte's POV. At the moment, I don't plan on making them as long as this one, but who knows? If this ending unsatisfied you (which it probably did, what with Arte dying and everything), I would recommend you read the sequels.
And for anyone who has seen the actual storyline from the EC by Mothy, I know my story had several major differences. Sorry about that - I had to modify some stuff to fit the plot a little more. And yeah, I know Allen's original line was, "Oh, it's teatime!", but that wouldn't really make sense here, so I changed it.
A HUGE THANK-YOU to everyone who read my story! When I first published it, I thought that like, nobody was going to read it, but it's actually grew a lot more than I first expected. You guys are awesome, and thank you so much for all the support! I wish I could just hug every single one of you XD (if that creeped you out, sorry).
So stay tuned for the sequels! I'll see you there! ^^