The Echos of longing

Diabolic King

"Little sweetheart..Why are you not scared?"he asked as he removed the mask covering his face.

Behind the mask hid a childish face,innocent,yet the long scar running across his face made him look manly. He somehow looked handsome,not like a youth, but like a man,mature,with that scar.

Her hand raised and he kept looking. As her eyed get closed,she touched his face. Her fingers were trembling slightly. He could feel. The disgust vibrating inside her. But she closed her eyes. To overcome it,as it seemed. He smiled inside.

She touched his face. Even with her eyes closed,she avoided the right side of his face,where the long scar ran.

"Siaan..I love you. I love you with everything I have. Marry me please"he heard her words as she took away her hand and opened her eyes.

He stood there,with the lopside smile intact. She looked up to his lips and he felt. The anger vibrating over disgust.

"Who does he thinks of himself? Smiling mockingly"he felt her. .

"Bhargavi..Do you really love me?"he asked..

"What should I do to show you,how much you mean to me Siaan? Did you not see love in my heart,in heart mirror?"she asked looking down,fiddling with her fingers,as if she was shy or nervous..

"Hmm. I saw. Thank you for loving me so much Bhargavi. Even though I am not worth it. Still. Thank you so much"he said as he pulled her close to himself.

She put her arms around him. As if feeling him. No matter what,this man gives a sense of security,that until he is there,nothing would go wrong.

He sighed feeling her sense of security. 

"Little one. You are weird. One moment you are so ruthless to me. Trying to kill me with your little plots and twist.  Next moment you are here in my arms,feeling safe and secure. Can you be sure. What is it actually you want?"How he wished to shake them awake and ask. But silence was all he was. All he has.

The palace walls were decorated with flowers. Afterall it was the wedding of the Diabolical king. Whose face no one had ever seen.

He stood,leaning on the balcony,looking downstairs, as the handsome man wearing the garb of workers of his home walked inside, with a bottle,with some kind of potion,specially crafted for him.

"You are playing your own death. Why are you melancholic about it? Should you not be familiar with the motion now?"he heard someone asked.

His best friend,his own shadow was the one who asked. He looked at the man. Not the man. But the face of the man. Looking into his eyes,he smiled.

"Funny enough that is my own blood. Ironic is it not?"he said looking away.

Someday,when we meet,how would it be..Would it be the same? Like now? Like it was? Would I ever find someone,to walk this journey with? Or it's just like this?

He asked himself countless times. But all that answered was his own silence as echo.

The next day was his wedding. He looked at the servant with the drink,in crystal glass. Rituals. He had himself introduced. To walk towards his own doom.

Picking up the glass he looked into the eyes of the woman standing infront of him. And walked towards her..

"Sweetheart.  How about we exchange glasses?"he asked..

The crowd quitened. Their eyes looked at him,with pleading.

No. DONOT DO IT. Please donot leave us..

He could feel. Thr reluctance vibrating in them. He smiled as if he was the happiest man in the world at that moment. 

And taking the glass he gulped down the drink.  As if it was nothing but drink. The crowd,the dark priest sighed in relief. But they looked at the woman in wonder. She did not die too.

Exchange of vows. The priest called out.

He had left towards the tent where he was resting. As the servant walked inside. There was no one at sight.

The crowd screamed. The woman and the man in servant's garb smirked.

Soon the whole place was a ruckus. But within few moments the guards started to move.

The woman cried until her tears dried but except the servant no one cared.

Soon enough funeral was arranged. The soil,the sheets of his room were used. To cremate him. Somewhere he smiled.

The diabolical king..The name,the face. It seemed to be a moment. But he just felt himself being dirty.

As he stood beneath the rain,as water touched his bare back. He walked towards home. As lonely as ever. The back that bore scars. The front with a scar. Eyes calm,cold yet vibrating with life. As if he had not been hurt. He just smiled and worked on the piles of papers left behind.