Aeal

Appassionata-(draft?)

All I ever wanted, you have given me;

all that I despised, you destroyed.

You have such great power, but the loss is equally terrible: so much to sate me, at what cost? You

are a fool to care, to love, and more so to believe in trust. In me, it is unjustified, naïve, like you always are. Unending are the wishes you grant, and still they flow on unceasingly. You have done all I asked, whether at cost of gold or lives: to kill a man― or many― to please me, to destroy even a kingdom for my smile. You are so guileless, one who tirelessly seeks to, with love, redeem a soul whose soul is naught. You see my hard eyes seeking.

Your heart is breaking.

There is no end to my greed, but even if I asked for the world in a box, you gave me more then I could dream of, always beyond my wish, and still, when you cried, I laughed. To see you in pain was glory to me; seeing you in agony amused me greatly. I was angry when you were glad: even in the pain of killing a man you knew was just and good, at my request, you still smiled. It was the same smile you wore as you died, the crimson blood spurting from your heart as you fell, raining softly over me, dying me the color of your dawn.

I cried because you died gladly without regrets, without sorrow. You told me once “To hate me so, what must I do for you but die?” Always, every day, until you could no longer put if off. You wanted to bring me happiness with your death,

but so many years and you never knew,

never once understood that the one I’ve always hated was not you

―but me.


Do the words one utters before death tend to be truer, or can they be a lie?
--Subaru, X/1999