The fallen king

The throne room was a skeleton of its former glory.

 Rain hammered through shattered stained glass, slicing cold across cracked marble floors. The great banners of the royal house—once proud symbols of unity—now hung in tatters, scorched and swaying like ghosts in the wind. The air stank of blood, ash, and something heavier. Something final.

 King Allen knelt at the base of the throne he had bled to protect. His armor was split at the ribs, a gauntlet missing, his royal cloak soaked through with red. The crown pressed against his brow—not as a symbol of rule, but a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost.

 And before him, sword drawn, stood Simon.
 Not an enemy general. Not a rebel. Not a faceless assassin.

 Simon—the boy Allen had raised as his own. A brother in all but blood.

 Allen blinked through the pain. “What the hell are you doing, Simon?” His voice trembled between disbelief and agony. “It hurts... gods, it hurts. I gave you everything. I made you my son.” Simon’s jaw clenched. Rain clung to his lashes, but his eyes—so familiar—held something Allen had never seen before: resolve.

 “You did,” Simon said. “And I never forgot. That’s exactly why this hurts so much.”
 Allen reached for the throne—not for balance, but as if touching it might tether him to who he once was. “Why?” he whispered. “Why are you doing this to me?”

 Simon exhaled slowly, as if every breath weighed him down. “Because I love you. And I can’t keep watching you destroy everything we once stood for.”

 Allen’s eyes darkened. “Destroy? I held this kingdom together when the world turned its back. You think I chose war? I chose survival.”
 “You chose fear,” Simon said softly. “You met every question with fire, every doubt with a blade. You stopped listening to your people. You stopped listening to me.”

 Allen leaned forward, coughing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Every time I listened, someone died. Do you think I don’t carry that? You think I sleep at night?”

 Simon looked away. “I don’t know who you are anymore. You were my hero—the man who taught me to believe in something greater. Now I only see a shadow.”

 The words cut deeper than steel. Allen’s breath hitched—not from pain, but from the ache blooming in his chest.

 “I shut you out,” he whispered. “Because I couldn’t lose you, too. You were the last piece of family I had left.”

 Simon’s grip faltered. His hand shook, rain sliding down the blade. “Then why did you become the very thing you swore you’d never be?”

 Allen stared at his bloodied hands. “Peace built on promises crumbles. Peace built on strength… endures. Or so I believed.”

 They stood frozen in the storm of all they had become.

 Allen raised his head, gaze softer now—not defeated, but stripped of illusion. “If you truly believe I’ve become the monster… then finish it. But don’t call it justice. It’s mercy. Maybe even love, twisted as it is.”

 Simon stepped closer, boots splashing through water and blood. “I don’t want to do this,” he said, voice cracking. “But I can’t let you keep tearing us apart. The people are afraid, Allen. They don’t see a protector anymore. They see a tyrant.”

 Allen’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I became the villain to keep them safe. Funny, isn’t it? In trying to save everyone… I lost everything.”
 Simon knelt before him, sword raised—but lowered. “You didn’t lose me.”

 Allen’s eyes lifted. “Didn’t I?”

 Silence.

 Only the rain answered, pouring through the broken ceiling like judgment from the gods—cold and unrelenting.

 Simon closed his eyes. “I wish there was another way.”

 “So do I,” Allen murmured. “But if this is how it ends… I’d rather it be you.”

 There was no rage. No pride. Just acceptance in the lines of Allen’s face.

 Simon leaned forward, his forehead resting against Allen’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

 “I know,” Allen whispered back. “Just... remember me as I was. Not what I became.”

 Simon pulled back, eyes glassy.
 Then he raised the sword—hesitated for a breath that felt like eternity—and brought it down.

 The throne room fell silent.
 Only the rain remained.
 And the sound of a kingdom breaking.