Finn Pinefall Writing

The Hero kicked in the door, to find The Prince simply sitting by the fire. The Prince, His Prince, though he may be king by title, simply sitting near the fireplace. There was an empty chair beside.

“Come, sit with me,” said The Prince. The Hero lowered his sword slightly, though he was still apprehensive, “Oh put that thing away,” The Prince said, “it was never more than decorative. And we both know I’m no threat to you anyway.”

The Hero slowly sheathed his weapon and sat in the chair across from The Prince.

“Thank you. I suppose you’re here to stop my ‘evil plan?’”

The Hero nodded solemnly.

The Prince sighed, “Do you know why I sent you away, my loyal bodyguard? My Knight?” He waited briefly for a reply that did not come, “I wanted you to see the rot in the world, to see how tragically, how thoroughly everything is wrong. I did not want to be rid of you, quite the opposite. I knew that if I had told you my plan from the start, you would never have joined me. You would have stopped me right then, and right there. I had hoped that sending you away would help you see things from my perspective.”

The Hero still did not reply. He simply tightened his fist around the grip of his sword.

“I already told you, that sword is purely symbolic. It would not even function as a dueling sword, it’s simply there to signify you as my protector. Not that I’m going to fight you, I could never bring myself to harm you.”

The Hero became slightly confused. It showed on his face.

“Have you not figured it out yet? I’m doing this all for you. For us. We can wipe the slate clean, free ourselves from the shackles of society. We can be ourselves in the world to come, as there will be nobody left to condemn us. Nothing left but the ashes.”

The Hero stood up, and unsheathed his blade once more.

“My dear, there is no use for this charade. I know that you are no more capable of hurting me than I am of hurting you. And by the time tonight is over, there will be nobody left to hurt either of us.”

The Hero could not bear to listen any longer. He lurched forward and drove his blade through the heart of His Prince. His Prince, did not betray any sign of hatred or betrayal. With the last of his strength, he reached out, and pulled His Knight into an embrace.

Hours later, at the changing of the guard, The Hero was discovered holding the corpse of The Prince, weeping, and was arrested. Nobody but him knew the truth of the matter, and he could not bring himself to make a defense. He pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to hanging for his crime, branded with the title King-Killer. But only he knew that his true crime was far worse than the mere killing of a king. He had killed love itself.