“Where are you going?” Alex had dressed herself to travel. She cared very little what the primus ultimately decided to do, as long as Tyr wasn't killed. The fact that he had done so once, so readily... Feeling disillusionment in every pore after spending most of her life revering them, the primus' all looked like monsters to her now. But there was something to be said for the palpable relief that they could go anywhere they wanted and nobody could stop them now. “Are we traveling?”

“Not we. Just me.” Tyr replied. His voice was grim and his hands were shaking more violently than ever before. He needed her help just to collect the shards that remained of his shattered sword and send them into his dimensional ring. Jartor's initial attack had contained more force than the blade was meant to handle, ruining it.

Alex bit her bottom lip to avoid saying anything unnecessary. The whole situation was awry, and she understood that, but he was all out of sorts. Like he was an animal caught in a trap with no obvious escape. He'd finally been given that freedom from responsibility he kept talking about and wasn't as happy as she'd thought he'd be. “What are you doing?”

Pulling his grandfathers knife from his belt, the only item on his person, he cut free his long hair with shaky hands. Making him look like some kind of beggar, but there was significance in this action. Traditionally, Harani men wore their hair long. Shoulder length or longer, but warriors and the nobility in particular would often keep it as long as possible, especially when young. It wasn't an uncommon custom in other nations, though many considered it a custom adopted from the orcs that had once ruled the lands the empire rested on. A custom shared by Oresund, with claims of tradition all their own. Typically worn braids along the back or sides of the head. Cutting free their hair was akin to admitting dishonor or a great defeat. He didn't often wear his in the traditional Harani warrior's tail, but the women would braid it at times and though he'd never admit it she knew it was a point of pride to him.

His beautiful, snow colored hair dropped to the floor in a lifeless pile. Alex felt bile rise up in her throat as he did that, a sense of profound loss at so simple an action. The Goldmane's did not take to the custom, but for royals and knights in the west on active duty it was near universal. He looked so lost, and she didn't know how to help him, leaving her conflicted. On one hand he was almost whimsical at times, a bit of an idiot, but she knew him well enough to know that he took his pride as a so-called 'warrior' very seriously. That vain ego that was so common in young men was thick in him and now... He was broken.

“I've no need for it anymore. All it does it get in my eyes.” Tyr replied. His throat felt raw and hot, and a weight had settled into his gut that he couldn't seem to shake. Voice heavy and full of everything he felt, his heart on his sleeve. “Alex.” He sighed. Tyr had always thought that being prince was far from his interests, constantly dreaming about getting away from his duties. But now... “I am left with nothing, and I apologize for doing this. But you're the only one I feel comfortable enough with to try it.” He'd made up his mind. Too much had happened, and he couldn't get it out of his head – forced to confront it and found wanting. Things he had already forgotten but the wider lesson of it all was carved into his mind like the runes patterning that shattered sword.

“Apologize for what?” She asked. “You've nothing to apologize for, what the primus... Your father did, was...” There weren't words for that. Not from her, growing up under in a household with a doting father that entertained her every wish.

Tyr sighed dispassionately. His eyes were heavy and his arms felt even heavier, as if he were pushing through some great force with every movement. He'd lost everything, times beyond counting. He could see them, faceless and begging him for help, children he'd never had reaching their hands out to him and crying out. It was too much. He wanted to sleep beyond the simple closing of his eyes, wanted to stop staring back at those eyeless faces screaming at him. “The secret to Anu runes is--”

SPLAT.

Choking, Alex raised trembling hands to her face in a vain attempt to wipe away the blood and viscera that coated them. Abruptly, and without warning, Tyr had burst into fine red mist. All while B'al watched, via their connection, troubled and disturbed by the feeling. No intent to actually tell, forced out of him by his own mouth... But why? How, more appropriately? “W-what--”

“Fuck.” Tyr finished, what remained of his mouth grimacing in pain and disappointment. Not a true death, after all. It took him hours to regenerate a body, on the floor and cradled like a child by Alex, forced to explain his pact with the Anu to her. It was embarrassing, his cheeks were flushed but at least the scalding edge of the pain prevented his hands from shaking or his voice from quivering. Well, he didn't have hands in that moment – but if he had...

Of all the sins of man, supposed to have come from the mouths of gods in their definition, suicide was the greatest in the northern states. There was no forgiveness for it, and to do it was to commit ones 'soul' to eternal damnation. Entire houses could be laid low in shame if one of their members were to do the thing he'd just attempted. Tyr knew better. He'd always be alive, for eternity, but he could forget... Be someone else, somewhere else, step onto a new path. Unfortunately, the cruel claws of fate were clutched too tightly to allow an escape, they weren't done with him yet.

“Why would you want to do that to yourself?” Alex was as horrified as she was disgusted. She'd never considered that something like this was possible. Her feelings regarding it were so strong that she could easily ignore the mess staining her outerwear. “What would compel you to commit such a cowardly act? This isn't you...”

“Selfish.” Tyr sneered up at her, unable to move anything more than his mouth.

“What...?” She was taken aback by the unexpected response.

“To insist that me taking my own life, seeing it and asserting your way is the right way. Incredibly selfish. Cowardly? Is there anything more brave than a man willing to end himself for no tangible gain at all? I understand completely what I've tried to do. And I would do it if I could in this moment, if only it meant that it'd stick, you have no idea what burdens I carry.”

Alex grimaced, she'd seen a lot in recent years, but this was something else. Tyr's apparent immortality even beyond primus' was astonishing, but what he'd both said and done was revolting. “Why?” Was all she could ask.

“Imagine seeing everyone and everything you care about die a million times and you aren't even given the satisfaction of being offered the peace of remembering their faces?” Tyr snarled angrily. “Not given the opportunity of an end.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“What are you talking about? You haven't lost us, or Iscari. I don't understand!” A tear raced down her cheek. She wanted to understand. Wanted it so bad that it hurt.

“I hope you never do.” Tyr exhaled. Leaving from the room on child sized legs courtesy of his half regenerated body. Leaving behind the mess of his attempted suicide, stark naked as the moment he'd been brought into this world. Only the enchanted jewelry on his fingers and wrist to leave anything to the imagination. If anything, he was still fairly shameless, stepping out into the halls of the palace beneath the scrunched gaze of the guard.

Much to his chagrin, she followed. “Where will you go?”

Tyr shrugged. “I have no idea.” He'd never thought about it, but it couldn't be Haran, being exiled was no small thing. It was unlikely that Jartor would prevent him from ever entering his homeland again, but his pride would not allow him to live in a hole somewhere, all beneath the mans shadow. “Milano was nice....” He mused. “You know, I never knew how much I cared about being prince. Maybe I didn't, but this... I've lost everything. And now you see why I acted in the way that I did. I was right, even if it wasn't in the way I'd though I'd been. The only legacy left to me by my father was one set of clothes, travel rations, and Okami, something he couldn't take away from me. I suppose it's cold of me not to realize that at least I've been granted that.”

“I'm not leaving you. We'll go back to the academy and finish up, and then... Then we can go anywhere!” Alex pleaded. “Anywhere at all, as long as we're together it'll be fine. Just like old times. We could be married again in another land and start a life together away from all this!”

Tyr stopped in his lurching, surrounded by the cold stone of the palace. A few guards still staring at him uncomfortably, but for the most part they ignored him. The way it was supposed to be for the exiled, not wholly dissimilar to how the Anu had treated Valkan. Turning with the clacks of their armor and heading elsewhere, anything to avoid looking at that.

“Do you realize how mad you sound?” He craned his neck up at her. “Who even are you? More importantly, who am I to you? You were forced into this relationship, and now you're free, we have no more relationship than that of acquaintances. I know adventurers I've commissioned alongside better than I know you.”

“That's not true!” Sadness turned to anger. Alex wanted to strike him in the back of the head, though she knew it'd do her no good. “I know you better than everyone and I always have, even better than Iscari. Ask me anything, you'll see!”

Tyr would humor her just for a little while, pursed lips and clenched fists. Knowing she would harass him all the way out of the palace until she got in trouble she couldn't handle.

“What's my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Favorite food?”

“You don't have one, but you'd 'never complain about anything of beef cut thin and seared to a medium rare'.” She took the words straight out of his mouth, in verbatim. Tyr had a gift for memory, but it wasn't natural and it wasn't earned. Alex was so much more gifted than he was, and he had always been jealous of that. He'd said that years ago, even when he still thought she hated him. Maybe she did, maybe this was all out of pity.

This continued on with a dozen more questions, each more random than the last. But at the end of it...

“See? All correct.” Her initial anger and horror at seeing him explode was gone now. Replaced by pure self satisfaction and smug superiority. It dripped from her so fiercely that anyone nearby should want for an oiled cloak. She was so vain at times, but it wasn't something he had any right to comment on in this moment.

“You're right.” Tyr nodded, eyes downcast. Alex stared at him in concern. She'd thought, maybe, that it would lift his spirits to know he had a friend who listened to him. But it did the complete opposite. Tyr did not love her, might not even have the capacity for love as he understood it, vicariously through old books he'd read. Tolerance, slowly trending towards what one might call friendship would be a more accurate depiction of their dynamic, but she listened and remembered in respect to what they used to be. Alex tried so incredibly hard, even when he was the last person deserving of that kind of effort. That said a lot. From Tyr's perspective, the problem wasn't that he'd 'lost' this duel of wits, but rather because he didn't feel the way he should. Out of fear, out of general misanthropy or selfishness, he couldn't tell. One day, she would die, like all the rest, and he wouldn't even remember her face. It'd become as blurry and indistinct as the others, her name ceasing to have any meaning.

Staring into the infinite, Tyr had seen things. True desolation. A depression of the soul so vast and all encompassing that it had strained his sense of self. Rooted hard in his mind, he wanted to forget, the need for his hands to be put to use stronger than ever.

“You're right.” He repeated. “In which case I apologize, and thank you. But even if I did want you to come, which I don't, and you can invent whatever fantasies in your head that would compel me to say that... You can't. You have duties and are sworn to the colleges. To live as an apostate forever? For me? Your parents would never allow for an excusal, you are their heir. In time you will see how ridiculous that notion is. I am toxic, a poison. I see that now, and I would very much like you to leave me alone.”

“It's not for you.” She protested. “Not for us, either. Do you think I yearn for you?” Alex stared down the bridge of her nose. That was the woman he remembered. “Do you think I need you? No, I don't. I do what I do, because that's what friends do – remember? They support one another. You absolute imbecile of a man. I am my own woman and do—”

Tyr hushed her with a hand, requiring him to stand on his tiptoes to reach her lips. It was his last chance to cement their dynamic now, before she got hurt because of him. Perhaps the only selfless act he'd performed in his entire life. “All of these words coming out of your mouth, and I have no interest in what you have to say. We are no longer married, and I've little interest in maintaining this charade of a relationship. Fuck you and fuck Haran. If I return, it'll be to lay waste to this shithole or conquer it as is my right. If you follow me, I'll kill you. You know me well enough, Alex, I will leave your broken corpse for the birds and feel not a single ounce of regret for it. We are nothing to one another any longer.” He concluded, lacing each and every word with as much cold vitriol as he could to ensure they stuck in her thick skull. “Goodbye.”

As wounded as she was by his words, she saw them for what they were. But he could have it his way, she had her own pride. Spitting in his general direction completely at odds with the high lady she was, she made a promise that if every a day came where they met again, she'd have found a way to permanently put him down. That's all he deserved.

She had done everything for him. Spending most of her time managing his affairs and ensuring he was well taken care of and given time to pursue his interests. Hundreds of hours in the library looking for a way to stabilize his mana core, because she'd cared about him. But at the end of it all, he was still so monstrous. He hadn't changed, and she didn't care if they ever saw one another again.

Not anymore. He didn't deserve another chance.