Beautiful Boy

Axel's fists trembled at his sides as he took in the sight before him—the blood, the lifeless body, the tears in Lila's eyes as she held their son close. His vision blurred with fury and anguish, and when he finally spoke, his voice was like ice cracking under immense weight.

"Take him to his room."

Lila's eyes widened. "Axel—"

"Now, Lila!" His voice thundered through the room, raw and unyielding.

Alexander flinched, his small fingers tightening around Lila's dress as his sobs grew softer. He looked up at her, terrified, pleading, but Lila had no choice. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded slowly and guided their trembling son out of the room, casting one last glance at Axel before the door shut behind them.

The moment they were gone, Axel's knees buckled. He collapsed beside the lifeless child, his hands shaking as he reached out, pressing a palm against the boy's cooling cheek.

For the first time in years, the Duke of the North—merciless, unyielding, feared across the empire—broke.

A harsh, ragged breath tore from his throat as he dipped a cloth into the basin of water nearby, watching as it turned crimson the moment it met the child's skin. His hands, so accustomed to wielding a sword, now trembled as they wiped away the evidence of his son's crime.

A child, barely older than Alexander. Someone's son. Someone's joy.

And now, nothing more than a cold, lifeless body on the floor.

Axel clenched his jaw so tightly it ached. This was his fault. This was their fault.

His hands pressed against the child's chest, as if by some cruel miracle, warmth would return. As if fate would allow him to turn back time, to stop this before it ever began.

But the body remained still. Silent. Gone.

A strangled sound left Axel's lips, something between a sob and a curse.

"Gods…" he whispered hoarsely, bowing his head. "What have I done?"

Axel went in. Entering their room. Lila was standing and staring at their window. "We have to let him go." Lila's breath came in short, frantic bursts as she stared at Axel, her body trembling with fury and disbelief. "You want to hand over our son?" she spat, her voice raw with desperation. "He's just a child, Axel! Our child!"

Axel ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his face pale, eyes shadowed with grief. "Lila, he killed someone." His voice was strained, his control slipping. "This isn't just—this isn't something we can ignore!"

Lila took a step forward, her nails digging into her palms. "He didn't mean to—he's just a boy! He's confused, he's scared, he doesn't even understand what he did!"

Axel's jaw tightened, his fists clenching. "What about that boy, Lila?" His voice was hoarse, but firm. "What about his parents? Do you think they'll care that Alexander didn't mean to? Do you think I can live with this? With knowing we did nothing?"

Lila let out a shaky breath, her vision blurring with tears. "I don't care about them," she whispered, her voice trembling, breaking. "I care about my son."

Axel flinched, his expression darkening. "And I care about what he's becoming."

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. The weight of their choices, their son's crime, the consequences that loomed ahead—it was all too much.

Lila shook her head, backing away. "You're his father. Protect him."

Axel's heart twisted painfully. "And what if protecting him means stopping him before it's too late?"

Lila's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it—fear. "You wouldn't—"

Axel turned away, his shoulders rigid. "I don't know anymore, Lila."

The palace was heavy with silence, the kind that suffocated, that crushed down like an unbearable weight. Axel stood over the trembling boy, his grip firm on the delicate porcelain cup. The thick, murky liquid inside barely rippled, though Alexander's small hands shook as he reached for it. 

"Drink," Axel commanded, his voice eerily steady. 

Alexander's red eyes flickered between his father's cold, unyielding expression and the cup in his hands. His lips quivered. "Did I do something wrong, Father?" His voice was small, fragile—as if he were still just a child who had scraped his knee, looking for reassurance. 

Axel's chest ached. "Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. "You did." 

Alexander's hands tightened around the cup. His mother's cries echoed from down the hall, muffled by the locked doors, the guards holding her back. He had never heard her scream like that before. He had never seen his father's face so emotionless. 

Tears welled in his red eyes. "I don't—" His voice cracked, and he looked up at his father helplessly. "I don't want to die." 

Axel knelt before him, gripping his son's hands gently but firmly. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Then tell me, Alexander… If I let you live, can you promise me that no one else will die?" 

The boy stilled. His small fingers twitched. 

A single, heavy tear slid down his cheek. 

He could not answer. 

Axel exhaled shakily, then guided the cup to his son's lips. "Then drink." 

With trembling hands, Alexander obeyed.

The thick poison slid down Alexander's throat, bitter and heavy, coating his mouth with a taste worse than death. He winced, his small fingers clenching around the porcelain cup as if holding onto life itself. His breathing grew shallow, uneven.

Axel watched in silence, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He should look away—he should turn his back, let this be done without witnessing it. But he didn't.

Alexander gasped, his red eyes widening in panic as his body convulsed. "F-Father… it hurts…" His voice was barely a whisper now, hoarse, weak.

Axel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay still. "I know."

Alexander's small body trembled, his hands reaching out blindly—seeking comfort. Seeking his mother. Seeking anything but the abyss that was swallowing him whole.

Lila's screams from the other side of the door grew louder, hysterical. She was fighting, begging, cursing. The guards struggled to contain her, but Axel knew nothing would stop her once she broke free.

Tears pooled in the corners of Alexander's eyes, rolling down his pale cheeks. He reached for his father, and for the first time in years, Axel hesitated.

"D-Do you… hate me…?" Alexander choked out, his lips trembling.

Axel's breath hitched. He swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head. "No." His voice cracked. "I never did."

A small, fleeting smile touched Alexander's lips. "That's… good…"

Then, his little fingers went slack. The cup slipped from his grip, shattering against the cold marble floor.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Axel remained frozen, staring at the lifeless body of his son—the child he had raised, the child he had loved despite the darkness lurking within him. His hands trembled as he reached forward, brushing golden strands away from Alexander's closed eyes.

The door burst open.

Lila stumbled in, her hair wild, her dress torn in her desperate struggle to reach him. The moment her eyes fell on the small, unmoving figure on the floor, the world seemed to shatter around her.

A broken sob ripped from her throat.

She collapsed beside Alexander, gathering his limp body into her arms, shaking him as if her touch alone could bring him back.

"No, no, no," she chanted, her voice raw with anguish. "Wake up. Please, my love, wake up—"

Axel turned away.

Because if he kept watching, he wasn't sure he'd be able to breathe.