The Tyrant's Pet

<strong>Happening at the same time...</strong>

The sound of metals continuously echoed along with constant grunts and yells from Roman and Joaquin. Neither of them took a break or said another word, knowing saying anything was simply a waste of energy and time. Joaquin had already closed his mind and Roman was disgusted at every word that would come out of the emperor's mouth.

Hence, they exchanged blows until they were panting for air. Sweats covered their skins and their scratches continuously increased, visible on their bodies. But that didn't deter them from wielding their swords, swinging them to attack, or blocking an attack.

After a long exchange of kicks, punches, and swords, both of them were equally exhausted. Until their fight slowly turned from a fierce battle of strength and skill to stamina.

<strong>CLANG!</strong>

"Ugh!" Joaquin ground his teeth. His swords trembled at the enormous weight pressing down against his blades.

Taking advantage of the emperor's exhaustion, Roman raised a foot and kicked him in the gut. His action forced Joaquin several steps back, but before Joaquin could recover, Roman lurched forward while holding his sword up.

All the emperor could do was hold his breath and harden his stomach when the erected sword's tip glinted, reflecting the light coming from the shattered glass where Roman crashed previously.

<strong>'No!'</strong> his brain yelled, gritting his teeth when Roman unhesitatingly swung his sword down, slashing Joaquin across the chest.

Time slowed down for Joaquin, but his senses felt slower to react. For a moment, Joaquin's heart and breathing halted as his body went into shock. The continuous sounds of fighting from across the palace grounds slowly sounded distant in his ears.

<strong>THUD!</strong>

When time clocked back to its normal pace, all Joaquin heard was the sound of his knees hitting the floor, followed by the clang of his sword as his palms landed on the floor. He coughed out blood, making it even more painful for the fresh wound across his chest.

It took time for Joaquin to realize what had just happened as he gasped for air, finding himself on his hands and knees on the floor so pathetically. Despite the pain, the humiliation surging in his chest clouded his mind.

How did this happen?

Joaquin's eyes dilated when a pair of bloody boots stopped before him. His back stiffened at the deadly gaze on his back, and before he knew it, Roman grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled it back to force him to face him.

Roman was also panting, calming his racing heart from all the adrenaline running through the ends of his nerves. He grabbed the comb of his metal helm, taking it off and tossing it to the side. The clanging noise of how it rolled sounded overly loud in their ears as silence slowly took over this very room where they fought.

"Joaquin," called Roman when he recovered his voice, albeit rasped from all that yelling to raise his morale. "You had lost."

Joaquin's pupils went huge as his heart thudded at those three words the seventh prince spewed.

Lost? Who? Him?

"Hah..." came out a mocking laugh, as if he just heard the greatest joke in his life.

Unfazed, Roman kept his composure. Joaquin would deny this world's order because he was the person who never want to be wrong. The crown prince, now emperor, would stop at nothing to prove he was right all along; whether by force or by another method, Joaquin would force something just to prove he was right.

And that alone was twisted at every angle.

"I would've beheaded you myself and paraded it for everyone to see." Roman's eyelids drooped as he raised his sword slightly, pulling his arm back to create distance from the tip of his sword to Joaquin's stomach. "However... at the end of the day, you are still my brother and our royal family had done many unspeakable things. Die a slow and painful death... and reflect on your sins."

Roman breathed out carefully, looking at Joaquin with pain in his eyes. "And ask yourself, brother. Ask yourself if everything you did is worth it."

He stared at Joaquin for several seconds in silence before he thrust his sword forward, easily piercing through the layers of fabric into the emperor's flesh. Joaquin's mouth instantly fell open, his breathing suspending, as his brain registered the unspeakable pain buzzing in his head.

The squishy sound continued as Roman pulled out his sword, only to thrust it back into Joaquin's stomach. He stabbed him twice, missing the latter's vital points so he wouldn't die immediately. On the third stab, Roman carefully pulled out his sword and pushed his brother, so Joaquin was laying flat on his back with blood oozing from his stomach.

Roman slowly rose to his feet, gazing down at Joaquin's blank eyes that were going into shock before they slowly clouded.

"May you rest, brother," he muttered, lowering his eyes, bowing at him one last time. "Ismael will come for you, for sure... to bid his farewell."

The seventh prince said nothing further, letting the silence reign over him. He stared at Joaquin for the longest time, then his gaze moved to his bleeding stomach. With all that wounds, only miracles could save the emperor. He could've beheaded him to lower the morale of the royal knights.

However, no matter how much Joaquin deserves a cruel judgment, Roman couldn't bring himself to do it. This wasn't entirely because they were blood brothers, but the seventh prince was already tired of taking lives and the brutality he had lived.

Sullying his hands over and over and over again throughout the years was tiring.

He just wanted to rest and leave this burden to Ismael. After all, taking down Joaquin was Ismael's task, but alas, Roman came to him first.

Roman didn't want the recognition of becoming a hero. There was nothing good about that title since it only meant he was the one who killed the most. A hero was only the sugarcoat of being a murderer.

"I didn't regret the life I lived..." he whispered, slowly turning on his heel. "... or what I want to believe." — because one way or another, Roman wished he wasn't born into the royalty and carried the name Imperial. If only he weren't Roman Imperial, he wouldn't be too ashamed to confess his heart to Violet. But then again, he couldn't fully hold on to that regret since he wouldn't meet Violet in the first place if he weren't Roman Imperial.

How complicated till the very end.

When Roman was about to cross the threshold and leave the scene for Ismael to pick up what the seventh prince left, he halted by the door. His eyes slowly dilated as his breath hitched at the voice behind him.

"Was it worth it?"