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Description
There is a time in everyone’s life where they wish the world would stop, pause and standstill, be it only for a brief moment. Be it the birth of a child, a first kiss, a funny moment shared with friends…everyone makes that wish at least once.
Not that those wishes ever come true, of course. Time passes and time moves on.
Though there are often times I wanted to go back… back to my childhood and never growing older, keeping that time, that moment at a standstill.
Back then, things were perfect…back then I didn’t understand. I miss the naïveté that accompanies childhood. A person that you admire so much, and aspire so much to be like could lie to your face, and it would make no indention, as if you hadn’t even heard the words at all.
No mark on your temporary purity. Indeed ignorance is bliss.
But children grow. I grew
And the cold and distant feeling, the lying…it slowly began to make its marks and scarring the purity, and slowly, ever so slowly bringing me to the realization that I am… what? Finally seeing the futility of it all?
This is ramble however.
Delos…
Since the day he was born its been a constant struggle for me. “Win back daddy’s love.” That’s what it all was at first. Years I tried and tried to get him to notice me, approve of me, to realize, “hey, I’m still here.” I wasn’t missing, I wasn’t dead, I , Aetos, elder son, was here and trying to win back fathers good graces, something I shouldn’t have had to gain but something that should have been given willingly
I suppose it was jealously or it soon grew into it. Father grew distant, I grew cold I guess that’s when things began to change in me. My actions grew brash, my demeanor hard and icy… I regret to say that I pushed him father away. But all I ever wanted…all I ever, really, needed was a father who loved both sons. I am cursed, I guess. I was never given the privilege.
Delos.
For so long I blamed him…
Children grow. I grew
And as a grown man, I stood blade crimson and my father upon the ground before his golden throne, lifeblood spilt before my feet. Oddly enough I felt no remorse, no sense of guilt.
“This is for the years of neglect. This is for forgetting you ever had a first born." I believe father naming Delos his heir and next inline for the throne set me off. Yet again, little brother had stolen something from me. First my father, a man I had admired and wanted to know, then my seat of power, earned through birthright.
“You never had what it took, Aetos. Never.” He coughed and looked at me, callously, “you were never righteous, never courageous, never a good man at heart.” My father spit those words like venom, poison from the viper’s mouth.
Those words cut me cleaner than any blade could so I drove my sword through his throat and twisted, ending him there in the throne room.
Another thing stolen from me...
I drove Delos from MY kingdom, Drakenvale, that night, cursing his name with every blade stroke, every step I took. I made my stand, and I finally got something I deserved. My throne.
Things are short-lived however, and he, underdog, whelp, bane to my name, little brother Delos, stole that once again from me, and upon finding our father, decided to retaliate.
I was at the bottom…but I am ambitious.
More years passed, years hell-bent on revenge…I was finally going to rise higher than any mortal ever deemed possible. Immortality… a promise made to me by a demon lord. He held out his hands, showing me something I coveted, I desired, I took it and made it mine... I turned the tables and created my own Drakenvale in the Abyss. On my own. No one else.
But I wasn’t sated, and with great power comes lust and, oh, did I lust. I took a wife and then… in my never ending thirst for power, killed a god and assumed his role.
Still lusting.
Still… bitter.
Coming years were sobering. The coming of my children, the rise of my new kingdom…I had so much planned but realized I couldn’t do it alone. Even I couldn’t bring myself to do some things. Drakenvale was lost to me now. It meant nothing. But…
My son took it upon himself to finish my deeds, he admired me, looked to me for answers, and usually I answered him with a quick slap to the face. He wanted my love, but I was cold and distant. Like my father…
Maestra, my boy… did something I could never seem to accomplish. Even when Delos was in my hands, in arms reach, face to face, killing distance…I couldn’t do it.
…make daddy proud, son…
Delos. Little brother. Before the trouble started, we were blood brothers, friends…
But I wanted him dead.
“I wanted to make you proud… I wanted to win your love…win daddy’s love,” I heard my son say this with tearful eyes, standing over a body, blade crimson, lifeblood at his feet.
There are times in this life where you wish time would stand still.
I watched my son slay my younger brother.
I watched my little brother breathe his last breath, watched his chest rise and slowly fall, coming to an ultimate stop. I felt his eyes bore into me, as if he were finally coming to an understanding of what had happened with me, us, years before. “It’s okay.”I watched my little brother close his eyes, I felt his shudder, and I held that hand till it grew cold.

Who ever said revenge was sweet truly had no taste

Description
There is a time in everyone’s life where they wish the world would stop, pause and standstill, be it only for a brief moment. Be it the birth of a child, a first kiss, a funny moment shared with friends…everyone makes that wish at least once.
Not that those wishes ever come true, of course. Time passes and time moves on.
Though there are often times I wanted to go back… back to my childhood and never growing older, keeping that time, that moment at a standstill.
Back then, things were perfect…back then I didn’t understand. I miss the naïveté that accompanies childhood. A person that you admire so much, and aspire so much to be like could lie to your face, and it would make no indention, as if you hadn’t even heard the words at all.
No mark on your temporary purity. Indeed ignorance is bliss.
But children grow. I grew
And the cold and distant feeling, the lying…it slowly began to make its marks and scarring the purity, and slowly, ever so slowly bringing me to the realization that I am… what? Finally seeing the futility of it all?
This is ramble however.
Delos…
Since the day he was born its been a constant struggle for me. “Win back daddy’s love.” That’s what it all was at first. Years I tried and tried to get him to notice me, approve of me, to realize, “hey, I’m still here.” I wasn’t missing, I wasn’t dead, I , Aetos, elder son, was here and trying to win back fathers good graces, something I shouldn’t have had to gain but something that should have been given willingly
I suppose it was jealously or it soon grew into it. Father grew distant, I grew cold I guess that’s when things began to change in me. My actions grew brash, my demeanor hard and icy… I regret to say that I pushed him father away. But all I ever wanted…all I ever, really, needed was a father who loved both sons. I am cursed, I guess. I was never given the privilege.
Delos.
For so long I blamed him…
Children grow. I grew
And as a grown man, I stood blade crimson and my father upon the ground before his golden throne, lifeblood spilt before my feet. Oddly enough I felt no remorse, no sense of guilt.
“This is for the years of neglect. This is for forgetting you ever had a first born." I believe father naming Delos his heir and next inline for the throne set me off. Yet again, little brother had stolen something from me. First my father, a man I had admired and wanted to know, then my seat of power, earned through birthright.
“You never had what it took, Aetos. Never.” He coughed and looked at me, callously, “you were never righteous, never courageous, never a good man at heart.” My father spit those words like venom, poison from the viper’s mouth.
Those words cut me cleaner than any blade could so I drove my sword through his throat and twisted, ending him there in the throne room.
Another thing stolen from me...
I drove Delos from MY kingdom, Drakenvale, that night, cursing his name with every blade stroke, every step I took. I made my stand, and I finally got something I deserved. My throne.
Things are short-lived however, and he, underdog, whelp, bane to my name, little brother Delos, stole that once again from me, and upon finding our father, decided to retaliate.
I was at the bottom…but I am ambitious.
More years passed, years hell-bent on revenge…I was finally going to rise higher than any mortal ever deemed possible. Immortality… a promise made to me by a demon lord. He held out his hands, showing me something I coveted, I desired, I took it and made it mine... I turned the tables and created my own Drakenvale in the Abyss. On my own. No one else.
But I wasn’t sated, and with great power comes lust and, oh, did I lust. I took a wife and then… in my never ending thirst for power, killed a god and assumed his role.
Still lusting.
Still… bitter.
Coming years were sobering. The coming of my children, the rise of my new kingdom…I had so much planned but realized I couldn’t do it alone. Even I couldn’t bring myself to do some things. Drakenvale was lost to me now. It meant nothing. But…
My son took it upon himself to finish my deeds, he admired me, looked to me for answers, and usually I answered him with a quick slap to the face. He wanted my love, but I was cold and distant. Like my father…
Maestra, my boy… did something I could never seem to accomplish. Even when Delos was in my hands, in arms reach, face to face, killing distance…I couldn’t do it.
…make daddy proud, son…
Delos. Little brother. Before the trouble started, we were blood brothers, friends…
But I wanted him dead.
“I wanted to make you proud… I wanted to win your love…win daddy’s love,” I heard my son say this with tearful eyes, standing over a body, blade crimson, lifeblood at his feet.
There are times in this life where you wish time would stand still.
I watched my son slay my younger brother.
I watched my little brother breathe his last breath, watched his chest rise and slowly fall, coming to an ultimate stop. I felt his eyes bore into me, as if he were finally coming to an understanding of what had happened with me, us, years before. “It’s okay.”I watched my little brother close his eyes, I felt his shudder, and I held that hand till it grew cold.

Who ever said revenge was sweet truly had no taste