Noctis gripped the ring tight, the metal was cold in his grasp, it bite into his palm like a starving animal after a long winter; hard and unyielding. The weight felt heavy in his hand. He loosened his grip, opening his fingers slowly. The afternoon sun lite it like a something precious. All these years his father had worn this….when did such a small thing become so heavy?
Flashes came and went, passing like shadows in the sun. His father, smiling, his arms held wide, switched to him, hunched over a table, hand half gripped in his hair as Clarus stood ever vigilant beside him, lastly fading into the king on his throne, his grip on his cane tight as he stood.
A scream built in his throat, he let it free. Fingers caged again over the thing that really killed his father. He raised his arm over his head.
ThRoW it away.
Noctis sobbed, bent half over himself, both hands curled tightly together. The ring still safe with it new king.
It’s all I have left. Of him. If Lucis. Even if it kills me, I’ll bear the weight until my knees give in,Noctis thought viciously, tears streaming down his face.