Inktober prompt one: Apple

 CW!!!: Suicide (not graphic whatsoever).

 The king sat high above the marbled floor on his throne, his purple skin shone in the late evening moonlight waiting, thinking. His beady eyes closed as he thought back to the last time he had been forced to attempt to offer Sieversii a spot among the kitchen staff since his entertainment services weren’t as popular among the people now. The large oak doors at the end of the throne room groaned as they opened and Sieversii stepped in almost silent. The only sound he made came from the bells hanging from his head, which was shaped perfectly like a joker’s hat. The bells danced and spun from where they had been pierced into the Apple’s head. His white face was angular and choppy with chunks of skin having been ripped out of him leaving bite marks cut into the flesh. The lifeless brown seed-shaped eyes stared forward as he made his way effortlessly to the foot of the throne. The black scars which fell from his forehead, down, across his eyelids and onto his cheeks, caused the king to avert his eyes, and Sieversii’s stomach clenched, even though he couldn’t even see the king rejecting the reality of the consequence of his actions.

“You summoned me, King Blueberry?” Sieversii knelt, his green pants billowing with the movement. 

“Indeed, son, I have something of importance to discuss with you.” The king’s cheeks grew blue as he flushed with indignance. “Queen Pear wants me to demote you to kitchen staff, it seems since your accident you haven’t been as vivacious. It depresses her. Can you tell me why you have seemingly lost your love for life?” 

Sieversii’s expression altered very slightly for the first time since he entered, and it took on an air of frustration, “My king, it is not easy to go through what I have gone through. Does Her Majesty expect me to be happier as a dish washer?” 

“Caution, boy, do not speak so pettily of your queen.” The king’s voice was soft and kind, even regretful, but worry leaked in at the edges of his words.

“My apologies, my king, may I speak with the Queen?” Sieversii kept his face to the floor and listened anxiously as his chest rose and fell dramatically. His mind raced, as he tried desperately to keep the anger out of his eyes, the checkered floor of the throne room was muddled and the squares seemed to keep switching places with each other.

The king sighed, “Very well, you may go to her chambers, do not tell anyone off this, take the back-way so you are not spotted. 

Sieversii nodded gratefully and bowed swiftly before opening a door behind the king’s throne and dashing down the dimly lit hallway. The sputtering candles in the sconces lining the walls revealed another door at the end of the hall and Sieversii didn’t hesitate to knock rapidly on it. 

“Come in, Sieversii,” came the all familiar voice of his Queen and he threw the door open, rushing in and over to the side of the bed where the queen usually lay. “I’m on the balcony,” She called and Sieversii turned his face toward the sound and made his way to it. As he neared the balcony, he probed his foot out in front of him, searching for the drop and suddenly felt his hand grabbed in a small, warm grasp. He nodded and she squeezed his hand, leading him down the step and to the railing of the balcony, he shut his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the wind seep into his rough skin. 

“I’m assuming you talked to Blueberry?” The Queen started and Sieversii heard her dress swishing as she leaned on the railing.

“I did.” He confirmed, turning his blank face toward her.

“Oh, Sieversii, why, why do you do this? Why do you throw your life away like this, depression isn’t the answer, all of this isn’t the answer, you know that, you are a Joker and—”

“Exactly, My Queen, a joker, that’s all I am, and now you’re trying to bring me down to a dish dryer. What does that say about how you think of me?” He snapped at her, and his shiny red skin on the top of his head blazed a brighter red than the grayish maroon it had shown a few minutes ago in the throne room. 

“Sieversii, you know that idea wasn’t mine, but Blueberry’s, if you hadn’t acted so quickly in your anger, you would have realized that. He wants to put you in a position where people wouldn’t see what he did to you.”

“Fine, I do see that…Okay then, let’s leave, we will escape his grasp and create our own kingdom, the first kingdom started by a queen and a joker.”

“Sieversii, I can’t do that.” 

He could feel the hurt in the silence that followed and imagined her short leafy green hair cupping her slender, oval face with shining mossy eyes smiling at him and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” The Queen whispered, her voice was strained and wet.

Sierveii choked, turning his contorted face away to hide the golden tears running down his pale, mutilated cheeks which used to hold so much life and rotund joy. A gentle finger touched his face and he stepped back, but he heard the Queen’s whispers and froze. The hand brushed his cheek and then another hand came up and brushed the other. Sieversii tried to hold back his anger and mountainous bitterness but whimpers turned to sobs and his forehead ached from his eyebrows pinching down along with his heart. Though the Queen was touching him, he almost didn’t feel it, he was numbed and he could no longer feel the bruises, sears and lacerations on his body, but he knew they were there and not being able to see them didn’t make them go away, just the same as his depression. He resolved his grief in a second and the weight on his heart lifted and grew heavier in the moment of decision. Bracing his hands on the railing of the balcony he kissed the queen’s fingers and pressed his face into her palm.

“No,” He whispered, “I’m sorry.” And with that, he tore his face from her embrace, hoisted up onto the railing and as one last tear dripped onto his mutilated cheek, he let himself slip backwards off the balcony. With his face turned up toward the sky, he heard a bird flutter past his ear, and, spreading his arms out, he took a deep, steady breath. Although the air stole the Queen’s cry of panic, nothing could steal the picture of her kind, beautiful face from Sieversii’s mind, nothing, that is except. Death.

The End

By E. E. Huckabee