Sitting on a fence licking an ice cream cone. The heat of the flames warmed his face and took the dampness out of the air. His eyes were emotionless even as a slight smile curled his lips, giving his beautiful face a sweet appearance.
No one dared to speak to him. He would call on them when he wanted their attention. For now, he was watching the spectacle in front of him.
The burning of the city. The screams of the citizens a music to his ears.
He had thought that revenge would bring him joy, but now he knew that it was an inevitability. There was no reality where those that had harmed him would not taste the flames of his vengeance and rage.
Those that had destroyed his home and murdered his clansmen were now tasting the sweetness of his revenge.
He licked the ice cream, savoring the flavor of cream and spices.
When he was young, he was innocent and trusting. Filled with the joy of life.
Now that he was so old, he had become cold and brutal, forged in the fires of his rage. His memories the only sweetness left to him. The driving force that allowed him to sacrifice so much simply for this moment.
He had entered the military when he was ten years old. Had allowed himself to be forged into a blade for the Empire. And in return the Emperor had given him this moment. The screams. The wails. The blood. The torment. The complete obliteration of an entire city.
And he didn’t think it was a poor exchange.
His mother would be saddened by what he had done, what he had become, but he knew that his father and uncles would understand. When he saw them all in the afterlife, he hoped they would accept what he had become–a monster–and that they would still be able to hug him and kiss him with the same amount of love and affection as they had shown when he was young and pure. Innocent.
He licked a last bit of ice cream, then tossed the cone away before jumping off the fence. He glanced at his bodyguards. "Let’s go."
"Yes, Prince Consort," they chorused, falling in around him.
He had sacrificed the child he once was to become the man he was. And along the way he had caught the eye of the Seventh Prince who would become the Crown Prince. His husband. The man known as the God of War.
All for the sake of vengeance, he had sacrificed everything he used to be. And he didn’t regret it.
Refused to regret it.
What is, is. What could have been is a dream, he thought. A sweet beautiful dream I wish I had never been woken from.
Against a backdrop of flames and destruction, the beautiful Prince Consort walked to the command tent where his husband waited.
He had made his choices. He would not balk at them now.
=END=
~Harper Kingsley
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P.S. I think the Seventh Prince is a transmigrator. He introduces ice cream and noodles and all kinds of modern things to this old timey fantasy world. And he falls in love with a beautiful orphan and to help the orphan get the revenge he’s so desperate for, in return for a marriage, he becomes known as the God of War and conquers a big chunk of the world.
