The Duke's Cursed

· · • • • CALE • • • · ·

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

In his dark hair, in his pale face. There was blood even on his hands, actually... there was mostly on his hands.

They were trembling.

His eyes hurt and burned.

Did he do that?

All were dead and Cale's empty gaze passed from body to body. Corpse to corpse.

One at a time.

"Why don’t they talk anymore?" He questioned, his lips moving so slowly that it seemed almost unreal, almost like a painting moving in the dark.

"They had so much to say...", He grumbled, the tip of the sword he held with his hand cut, squeezing against his mother’s corpse, "are you not disappointed anymore, Mom? Um? Don’t you think I’m a failure? Look... I’m really crazy."

Smiled.

A lifeless smile without any will. The smile of someone who had given up.

Cale was just tired.

His body seemed about to give in, but the stench of blood still bothered him. It bothered him too much to allow himself to fall there, to allow himself to die next to that useless bank.

Yes.

Useless.

That bunch of maggots that have been bothering you for so many f*ck*ng years.

Cale remembered every laugh, every word of mockery and especially how those women who claimed to be his cousins - insisted on touching him. In making it clear that he was an "adult".

Disgust.

All I felt for those bugs was disgust.

He’d gone crazy, right? He had killed them, had torn them to pieces and for a moment at the glance he saw himself in the mirror, he could swear that his own eyes were crimson like the blood flowing through his hands.

Carmine. As it was said in the curse.

Yeah. At least it made some sense. He was cursed.

All of them were.

He smiled, a faint, almost real smile before fainting in that corridor leading to his room.

It was enough.

To be mad, cursed and certainly a murderer - it was enough for the queen to finally take his poor and wretched life.

At least that was what comforted him, comforted him until the next morning, until he woke up in luxurious rooms, in noble robes.

"Archduke Lestrad, how have you been?" The queen’s voice made his bones freeze.

"Majesty...", his voice sounded too hoarse, as in the days when they locked him in the dungeon with the mice he feared so much.

"A real tragedy", the queen simply continued, "poor of her family, being the last to remain of her lineage... how does it feel? What a silly question, no need to answer me", a huge smile appeared, "just rest, my child. The name Lestrad will continue with you and I will do everything in my power to find out who caused such misfortune to your prestigious and beloved family."

'I', I meant to say.

'I killed them, pierced my blade into each one. They cried, begged and smiled... I continued!'

"Majesty...", he opened his mouth to speak, confess, but the queen’s gaze was stern as she smiled.

"Better shut up, young Lestrad. You’re still shaken, just rest and think long and hard about your future. You are one of the pillars of our kingdom, and, I would hate to have to deal with something inconvenient like... losing you."

Ah!

He stared at the ceiling.

There was no such option again.

I could not die.

That’s what the queen said, that’s what she stamped on her forehead.

'Long live, Cale Lestrad. Live and be obedient, an obedient dog to your majesty.'

He bit his lip hard.

"Yes, ma'am...", he muttered. "I’ll take that time to recover."

⋅• ◗●◖ •⋅

For 19 days the Archduke was left in the imperial palace, in the care of the doctor of the queen he found himself very well cared for and after his rest - returned to his home.

A version of the Lestrad mansion where not even a drop of blood could be seen.

The tapestry had been changed, the beds, the furniture. There was not even a small sign of the deaths, the bodies, the pain that all those beings inflicted.

Cale smiled.

Was it that easy to erase the beginning of his madness? So why was it never easy when it came to saving him?

His chest hurt with the idea, but a man who was bordering on his 70 years has cleared his throat.

"Lord Lestrad."

"Say, Veiner", he sighed, not surprised that the queen had sent him to spy.

"I just wanted to remind you that your family’s funeral is today at 4:00. You must attend."

All right, he thought.

It wasn’t a request or a warning. It was an order.

I had to keep up appearances. I had to keep up that absurd view of reality.

The view that his family’s curse was hearsay. The vision that the Lestrad - like any other noble family -, was united, loved and cared for, even if that simple idea made his chest hurt and his stomach wrap.

When Cale had felt love coming from his family?

When someone there had taken him in?

The answer was so simple and simple that it was painful.

Never.

Sighed.

"I’m going to change and I’ll be ready 20 minutes in advance", he found himself responding with a certain clamor.

It was his last time serving those people.

It was his last time obeying like that.

His own reflection in the mirror was like a cloud of what once was, but who would care? There was no one else.

Smiled.

A clear afternoon, which became cloudy as soon as his feet touched the ground of the cemetery.

It was a Sunday, wasn’t it?

Sighed.

Half a dozen words were thrown away, he pretended to cry and then they were all gone.

"The carriage awaits you", Veiner said, his hand behind his back as a gesture of courtesy.

Cale sighed, his memory was bad, but he still remembered the neighborhood, the lake.

A small lake, almost dying, in front of a ridiculous church that had a beautiful stained glass window.

"I’m walking, I want to walk."

The lord’s eyes widened.

"Lord Lestrad... your mansion is 2 hours by carriage..."

"I will walk", insisted, "when I wish to return home, I rent a carriage. Let me think alone, Veiner. It’s my new butler, not my father’s", the last part came out in a nearly growling and without waiting for an answer from the queen’s man. Cale is gone.

· · • • • ◗●◖ • • • · ·

· · • • • AGAPE • • • · ·

"Heard about the case at the Lestrad house." A voice can be heard in the background.

"And who hasn’t?" Another came soon after more whispered, "the rumors are running loose, all are saying that it is a confirmation for the curse to be true."

"Curse?" Airell soon spoke looking towards his sister’s face. "I call it common sense! I would have killed all those things well before!" His face was outraged. "If I had to look at that woman’s ugly and sour face every day then... I wouldn’t give myself a month!"

"I wouldn’t give you a week." Agape said to laughter. "The first wrong look and someone would have a spear right in the throat."

"A spear? They’d be lucky if I didn’t kill them with my own hands!" His tone gradually increased, probably because of the irritation that was rising so high up his face that he was turning crimson. " Sour-faced bunch of people who don’t..."

"Airell... lower." A serious tone