The Absence of Blue

The Red King picked up the piece of parchment that someone had taken great care to fold and place carefully beside his massive leather chair. By the light of the fireplace he could just make out the cursive scrawled quickly and messily across the paper, in complete opposition to the careful fold. Had he had a heart in that moment it would have skipped a beat and then dropped into his stomach just before his knees dropped to the ground as well. But as it were, anyone passing the study would have seen only a mere tightening of his jaw and a slight crumple of the paper as he gripped it far too aggressively. His expression gave nothing away.

He read it slowly and carefully in his head, hearing each word in her raspy, but not quite masculine voice. The further he got down the paper the heavier and darker the storm brewing inside of him grew.

Red,

I know you’re angry right now. I know you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how I got away. You’re probably going to read this letter a million times looking for something you missed, some clue I’m leaving behind for you to find me, like the old days, but you won’t find anything. This time, I don’t want you to find me. I don’t want to see you ever again. And if this comes as a surprise to you, you’re even more thick headed than I realized.

Remember how I told you I grew up loving stories about fairy godmothers and princesses and brave warriors and how I always related to them? I was so young and innocent and kind and I was going to change the world one day. because that’s what good people do. But I'm not a good person anymore, am I?

It wasn’t until I was standing in front of a bloody, fallen angel, an angel who fell because of me, that I realized I wasn’t the saint I thought I was. That was the moment I realized I was the villain, not the hero. Thanks to you. Obviously, it isn’t all on you. I made a million choices between that first night and now. And I’m not even sure if I would change any of them, but here we are.

I thought I saw kindness in you. I thought I saw someone who was misunderstood and hurting. But it turns out I’m the one who misunderstood and too many people are paying the price for my stupidity.

I would beg you not to kill the guards that are posted outside my door but I know that would be a futile plea. So add their dead bodies to my list of sins and then move on with your life. Don’t hunt me down. If you ever cared for me at all, even a little, let me go. And if you never cared for me at all, then just remember this, you trained me well. Better than even you know. So leave me be. Because if you don’t, you will have hell to pay.

Love always,

Blue

P.S. I hope the red pistol wasn't your favorite.

He did read the letter over and over again just like she said he would, damn her. It wasn’t until the third read that he made it to the post script. He walked to the huge dark oak desk in the corner of the room, pulling open the secret compartment that should open only for him and sure enough, the red pistol was gone. He ignored the sense of pride he felt settle in his gut and instead focused on the anger.

His eyes burned red, true to his name, as he silently cursed her very existence.

There was a roar building inside his chest so guttural he was sure it would blow his stone mansion to the ground were he to let it out. He wanted to rage. He wanted to break something. Emotions he hadn’t known still existed inside of him roared their ugly heads and he was powerless to stop them. He wanted to strangle her. But she wasn’t there. So he would do the next best thing. Again, he would do exactly as she said he would. He would make someone pay for her escape.

And then he would find her. Oh, he would definitely find her. And then they’d both have hell to pay.

“Guards!”

(photo credit: JaimeIbarra)