Dark SBI & Fluffy Oneshots

Melted Gold

Soon, their legacy, the thing they created with the upmost esteem, would be gone too.

Tommy took a step forward, warmth from the fire radiating upwards and casting goosebumps up his arms. Most of the clothes had burned by now, nothing but metal lapels and the occasional button still intact.

He didn't look as he threw the crown in. All he heard was the clink of metal and crash of wood as it sent new burst of flames into the chimney.

He didn't flinch at the noise, only turning away as the the crown caught on fire, unable to look at the bright gold. It would take forever to melt, he knew, but eventually it would be unrecognizeable. That was enough to satisfy him, especially since he'd be long gone by the time it was truly gone.

He ignored the pang that hit his heart at the thought.

After all, Tommy had a job to do. Before his family arrived, preferably.

The Prince carefully stepped around the chips of wood and broken glass littering the floor, stepping closer to the window, moonlight casted to illuminate his ruined bedroom through its tinted panes. The curtains that usually shielded the light were torn to the ground, strips sliced off to start the fire.

It was something Techno had taught him.

Tommy shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind as he neared the window. It was simple to unlatch the lock and shove open the sides, a cold blast of air hitting him almost instantly. The flames behind him flickered, but, thankfully, didn't spread to the wood discarded on the floor.

He carefully stepped up to the ledge, sticking his head through. Blonde bangs brushed the top of his eyes, but he shoved them out of the way, glancing down at the stone tower below him. Wind whistled through his ears and chilled him to the bone.

It was difficult to gauge how high up he was, but it was simple to tell that a fall would be deathly. Nothing but stray stone bricks jutted out to act as anchors against the billowing wind, some overgrown with slippery moss and cracked from weathering. It almost reminded Tommy of the climbing course Techno had ordered to be built for him, acting as a simple way for him to release pent-up energy.

Except he wouldn't die from falling from that wall.

Tommy took a shaky breath, arms shaking as he moved to sit on the windowsill, hand tightly grasping the very top.

This was a stupid idea. Wilbur had always said that climbing the tower was ridiculous, that the people sent to scale the slippery walls and repair shingles of the palace roof were insane. Tommy personally thought they were just desperate, but never thought to voice it.

Wilbur was always right. This was something he knew.

But Wilbur would understand why he didn't want to stay in this same room. Why every second was slowly draining his life away, why he fell further into a rabbit hole of hysteria with every knock on the door and concerned question.

He had to run.

If he didn't, he would be sealing his own miserable fate.

Tommy carefully shifted his weight to the opposite side of the sill, kneeling on the very edge as cold air tickled his ankles and made violently shiver, fingertips digging into the wood of his room walls. The unbearable heat of the fire was far too distant to ease his fear, eyes locked firmly on the door; on the chair that kept it tightly shut. There would be nobody to stop him from behaving so recklessly.

This was his decision to make. Perhaps the first decision he'd ever made for himself.

His foot touched down on the first stone, and he was outside. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and mumbling a prayer under his breath, and braced himself.