Melinoë
By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-
Author Notes: Technically this is part of a world-building for "The Heaven of Cut Stars" but you do not need to read any of that to understand this piece.
Warning: This isn't nice. It just isn't. Regicide. The first sentence should give you enough of an idea of what is going on.
His name was Regulus, the little king.
Ardyn had loved him, cherished him, worshipped him as any man would. Devotion in its highest form, in the form of the love a father could only have for his firstborn son. Even his Selene, his sweet Selene, was no comparison. She, whose face held the dawn in the dimple of her cheeks, held no sway to the little king.
Getting to hold his child in his arms… the comfort of that sweet touch, the coo of a babe who could not open his eyes but Ardyn knew would hold the constellations and the nebulas, the nurseries of stars behind his blue eyes. Caelum eyes; eyes that could see beyond the night, into the heavens above.
He had promised that child, kissing the soft blond hair he had inherited from his mother, that he would rule the world. The blood in their veins was the Blood of Kings, and his father the King of Light.
Touched with the blessings of the Six, Ardyn knew his pilgrimage would lead him to desolation, would cause him insufferable pain and torment. But for the sweet hope of a world without pain, a world which would cradle his newborn son within its arms, he was willing to pay any price. Whether it was his sanity, his blood, even his life- any price he would have willingly paid. Suffering would lead to Eos cleaned of the taint of the Starscourge.
And so he left on his trusty stead, his black Chocobo Thanatos, to set forth a world his son could rule with pride.
The little king would be the breath of Eos, known through the land as the little boy who was loved beyond all. He was safe in Solheim, wrapped in the arms of his mother. When Ardyn returned when his task was complete, when he had taken the daemons into himself and ended the scourge against their people, all would love the child with the stars in his eyes.
Izunia, his younger brother, promised to protect them from the daemons who would come crashing against the doors when the sun was hidden from the sky.
The daemons… it was not their fault the Scourge had taken them. They were once the beasts and men of his land and it was his duty, given to him by the Six above, to cleanse their souls of the taint and rot. He took the plague from those he could, easing their suffering by swallowing it whole. For those he could not save… he would reach out his hands, palms open, and embrace them and take everything.
If he held onto the daemons for long enough, Ardyn believed, he could cure them. He could wash away the rot… he only needed time. Time and patience, the ability to withstand their agony until they could be freed.
Ardyn bled black and yet he did not worry, for the Gods were with him and whispered of his fate.
The King of Light, to banish the darkness. His blood would be sacrifice to the Light.
His black blood.
Later as his brother taunted him inside of his prison in Angelgard, Arydn was told when his little king began to cough and vomit his insides from the poison Izunia fed him, the blood ran red.
Red like fire.
Red like rage.
Red like wrath.
He arrived too late to save them.
They were too far beyond salvation. He was beyond salvation.
When he jumped from the back of Thanatos he could see his wife's cold corpse clutching their child at the foot of his throne. She had placed their boy against her shriveled and exposed breast, his little Regulus's mouth still against her skin. Despite the poison and the pain, the blood dripping from their mouths against the stone of his throne, they looked…
They looked like angels.
Only sleeping, Ardyn had cried as he gathered them to him, cradling their cold and rotting corpses to his body. Only sleeping.
Only sleeping.
He knew it was his brother's hand when the sword of their Father came forward from the blue magical haze to slice off Thanatos's head, letting it roll forward and lay against the stone. It stared blankly up to Ardyn and he could only laugh, because the King of Light had taken the daemons upon himself, bled black for them and sucked in their torment and anger and anguish. All of that hate like viscous black sludge in their veins and yet...
They ripped his little king from Ardyn's arms. He tried to reach out, but the magic and grief were overwhelming. Taking in the taint of the daemons weakened him, made him brittle and pathetic… A shell.
He was nothing.
No King of Light, for the Six would never bestow such unholy status upon their Chosen King, their King of Kings. This world was not made for the them, not made for him.
King Ardyn's only parting gift was to watch as the flames engulf their bodies, smell the burning flesh and their hair like spun gold melting. A gift of light, Izunia had sneered, before the eternal dark.
Even as they locked him inside his prison, Ardyn could only laugh.
Daemons did not make the Accursed.
His name was Regulus, the little king, and the stars died with him.
And Men and Kings would die with him, too.
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