itoade

‘My enemy, my friend, my love, my pain. He was everything and more to me. My protector and my warden. Most importantly, especially for you, he was my leash.’

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Ísar Jovevski, the King of Ogronevia. Praised as a good king, a blessing from the gods, a mighty king. Kind and benevolent king. The greatest King in the kingdom’s history, never mind that his bloody ascension was a bad omen. A man holding a darkness that could consume him as well as everyone around him, if not for his childhood friends. If not for his love for Xinghua Li.

Imperial Son Li Xinghua of the Qianlong Empire. A prince, a martial artist, a warrior and Ísar’s childhood friend. The only person in the world that was able to make Ísar nervous and stumble over his words.

He loved him. A kind of love where he could not breathe nor exist if the other were not in his life. The kind of love where one’s heart jumped to the throat from a mere smile. 

The kind of love that turned into a double-edged sword. Where if it were lost—no—broken, the pieces would harm all.

And none could’ve avoided the cuts of its shards.

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[Excerpt]

The shores were stained with thick, black blood. The stench of rotten corpses filled the air as the ocean’s breeze swept over his kneeling form.

Ísar stared at the endless void that was the ocean. He barely registered the tears running down his cheeks as he watched the sun rise. The celestial source slowly moved high above his little kingdom and Ísar continued to stare.

The screams coming from behind him were muffled background noise.

“My King! My King, please! Please spare me!”

He didn’t know who that was. The voice was familiar but nothing came to mind. It didn’t matter, in the end. Nothing truly mattered anymore.

He squeezed the old and worn out plush toy close to his chest. The fabric was tearing and the little ox toy had never looked uglier.

He stared down at it and with a sad smile and teary voice, he said, “You don’t smell like him anymore. Nothing smells like him anymore. Please come back. Please. I miss you, my big star. I miss you.”

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Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe and Gothic Themes

[FKRV is a tragedy fantasy romance with both positive (found family, childhood friends, first loves) and negative themes (loss, grief, loneliness, suicidal ideation, murder). There will also be more mature chapters in the future which I’ll put a R18 warning for. Happy reading!]

Fall of a King, Rise of a Villain

"Also your majesty, I do think the castle would benefit from a woman's touch. I noticed while being lead through the many halls, quite beautiful might I add, that the decor was a tad plain and—"

She talks too much. Next.

She doesn't talk at all. Next.

"I know they say that you single handedly took down the basilisk yourself but I don't know. You seem a little too scrawny. Maybe it was a child. Have you heard that I was able to reach third level master swordsman at 15? You wouldn't even need to bother your pretty little hands with fighting with me around."

Ísar continued to sip his tea as he read the morning newspaper. "Lord Gaston reached third level at 10. How old are you again?"

"Gross. And you're still at third level?"

He's much too cocky and so very old. How did anyone even let him through?

Just Look at That Smile