KAIT

2

Gansey longed for Glendower like Arthur longed for the grail, drawn by a desperate but nebulous need to be useful to the world, to make sure his life meant something beyond champagne parties and white collars, by some complicated longing to settle an argument that waged deep inside himself


They said there’ve always been rumors of a king buried somewhere along this spirit road,” Ronan said. His eyes held Gansey’s. “They think he may be yours.” 


That sense that Gansey was both young and old, that he’d only just arrived, or he’d always been


His noble and oblivious and optimistic friend was slowly opening his eyes and seeing the world for what it was, and it was filthy, and violent, and profane, and unfair. Adam had always thought that was what he wanted— for Gansey to know. But now he wasn’t sure. Gansey wasn’t like anyone else, and suddenly Adam wasn’t sure that he really wanted him to be


“I don’t know what I’ll do if I find him, Noah. I don’t know what I’ll be if I’m not looking for him. I don’t know the first thing about how to be that person again.” 


He was a king. This was the year he was going to die.

You want a better ending. I know.
I know. But I warned you at the beginning
of this story: I am the hero,
and the world will burn. It’s not personal.
I will slay dragons and make armor out of
the times that I failed. I will hold you at arm’s length.
I think there’s such thing as happily,
but not ever after. My head is a tragedy of Shakespearian proportions,
but you have my heart. Does it taste like you thought it would?
For a long time I thought maybe you were the villain,
and I’d have to crack your head open on cement.
Fair is foul, and all that. I thought I would ruin you,
and all that blood spilled would be poetic.
It wasn’t. Just red. Just rust.
You want a better ending. So do I.
The world was supposed to end with a bang,
but maybe it was a whisper. Maybe the sun got too
tired to keep rotating. You want a better ending.
Maybe nothing ends. Maybe we just keep moving,
and blood spilled just turns out to be red and the ocean tide
washes us out. Maybe we don’t get to be clean.
You want a better ending. I know.
The world will burn and I will be at the center of it,
because I am the hero. Maybe all that glory won’t make me happy.
Maybe all that glory will just turn red,
same as blood. Same as anger. I did warn you though.
I am the hero, and the
world will burn.
So maybe that’s how it ends.
Red.
You wanted a better ending. So did I.
But this is the one we got.
—  A TRAGEDY OF SHAKESPEARIAN PROPORTIONS, A. M. Jarvis