This won’t make any sense to any of you, even after the first few books of the series come out. That’s okay. It’s back story, or at least bits and pieces of back story, and it might never be in the books. It’s mostly for my own good just to get it out of my system.
Screams tore through the palace again, and he wondered what it might be this time. The man had barely stopped screaming and crying since they left, and Phoenix wasn’t sure if it would ever stop. It had already been more than ten years, and the bellowing voice from the core of the palace had become a regular enough occurrence that he barely heard it anymore, even when he slept.
He could not make out any words from so far away, but it seemed he was screaming at someone. Probably one of his brothers or his adviser. There was always something for him to be yelling about, be it the terrible food they had been serving or a few specks of dust on a picture frame. Never anything that required that much anger, but always something that pissed him off more than it should have.
The amount of rage he had now was unreal. It was nothing the the man he had always loved, the man who had taken him in so willingly, given him a place in his palace, a room for his son. Phoenix knew why he was so angry. He understood it completely, and he knew what it felt like to have lost them. He was angry too, and he wanted them back. But he knew throwing fits and getting into fist fights with anyone who said their names was not the way to go about it.
It was a waiting game, and they both knew it. They were unreachable now. For both of them. All they could do was wait for them to return and reclaim their place, their relationships, their memories which had been stripped when they had been split from one god to two beings.
They were in good hands where they were, even if he didn’t want to believe it. They would be well taken care of until they could return. Until that time, Phoenix knew the screaming wouldn’t stop.
There was a crashing sound that followed the last string of garbled words, and Phoenix thought it might be good to go check on him, make sure he was okay.
As he got closer to the sound, it got louder, almost to the point of doing damage to his ears. It was a miracle he still had a voice, let alone one that could be quite so loud.
When he turned the corner, Phoenix found him sitting in the middle of the foyer with a sword on the floor next to him and blood everywhere. There was no one else in sight, and Phoenix could see that the blood must have been his own.
Cautiously, he stepped forward with his hands out in plain sight so that he wasn’t perceived as a threat. He didn’t want to bring the wrath of this man down on him when he was only trying to help him.
The screaming stopped when he spotted Phoenix, and he allowed Phoenix to get close enough to reach under his elbows and help him to his feet. He faltered, but welcomed the help.
Phoenix couldn’t see any serious wounds on him, but it seemed he had taken his own sword to his wrists and arms, and even to his stomach and legs. He could not support his own weight and leaned on Phoenix as Phoenix walked him to his room to look him over properly and clean and dress his wounds.
They only made it half way there before he collapsed, Phoenix just barely able to move fast enough to catch his limp body before it hit the cold marble floor.
Sighing heavily to himself, Phoenix lifted him into his arms and kept walking, the question of when it would all end burning in his mind as it did every time this happened. All he could do was hope that they would come home soon so that this endless torture and self mutilation would end, and he could finally relax and go back to how things had been before. Happy.