AN: Kindle’s my favourite character from No Regrets, and he isn’t very happy with his life…I offered him 1000 words to angst and reflect in, and he took up the offer, so here it is. If you want to know more about him, read No Regrets or check the page I have in the bio for the story… Of course, that’s probably pushing it too far because nobody probably wants to, but just in case This doesn’t really have a plot, so don’t expect a sequel. It’s just a quick look into his life, which means it pretty much stays the same. And if it’s somewhat confusing, Kindle’s a firestarter. He can control and call up fire, although I’m sure you could have guess that :D

IMPLIED SLASH!!  Warning XD

So, read, enjoy, and tell me what you think Cheers!!

“Kindle! His highness wants to ‘see’ you immediately.”

Those very words had the power to make me shiver, not in anticipation, no, never in a thrill of eagerness. It was revulsion which crept down my spine whenever Coran told me that…

It made me angry.

It still does.

“I’ll be right there,” my voice, falsely sweet and submissive, when everything inside of me is simmering with rage and frustration and I can't even think about the right words because there are none to describe the indescribable…

Coran nods, his expression smug enough to make me long to hit him, to burn him, to watch his bones settle into ashes only to be blown away by the wind…

I turn back to the mirror and finish putting on the eyeliner. It brings out my eyes, and over the many years I’ve almost grown fond of it. It certainly isn’t the worst thing He makes me do. I quite like it, compared to the other things, actually. It suits me as well. A streak of white in the midst of all that black, and my eyes look longer, more exotic, special.

He told me he wants me to get a tattoo so they constantly look like that. I almost told him to get it done himself. But no one says that to the King. Especially not me.

I might have more power compared to the other soldiers, being who I am, and having the status that I do, but it puts me lower somehow as well.

They call me slut.

King’s Consort Kindle at your service. And no, I don’t have a last name. He told me to forget it. I’ve tried.

I succeeded too well.

What He says goes… What he hates goes as well, although a different way. He’s unbelievably smug, always always with that crazy gleam in his eyes, that hint of something that shouldn’t ever be given power because it can so easily be corrupted…

He is my King. He is the King. And he has allowed himself to be corrupted.

He’s ruled for much longer than I can remember. He chose me for Consort when I was little more than a child. He gave me power, but he took away my freedom.

King’s Consort, slave to his will.

Making my way through the palace, it doesn’t seem real. It’s almost as if I could just walk past His door, avoid the punishments He will surely want to give…

Free myself.

To think, I know I’m a better person than Him, more powerful in ways He can only dream of – but society gives Him political power, and all the fires in the world can't take that away. They can't make me forget.

Trapped.

A single word, with so much meaning… It’s the story of my life. And it makes me so frustrated that I cry, hot, burning tears of anger that evaporate the second they’re trailing down my skin, and I know, know, that nobody will ever understand.

The servants are mostly happy here. They worry for their lives, but they have lives to worry about. I don’t. I’m a puppet turned slut, I listen to what my King wants, and I obey.

That’s my role in life.

It’s what I hate doing.

It’s what I can’t escape.

And the fires, they call so sweetly, so beckoningly, I could never describe to you what they do to me, because you will never understand. Nobody put my fire kin will ever understand how it feels, to want to join with the fire, to see if it would really hurt you, to get glorious burns that scorch and smolder and char in the most unimaginably delightful way.

I know.

I’ve been there. I’ve called the fires, I know what it’s like to join them.

It’s heartbreaking when somebody pulls me back. Always. Always, they look for ways to make me stay in this hell, where no freedom is allowed and where my beloved fires are more important than me.

Is it possible to be jealous of an element?

Yes.

It gains the respect that I don’t, the source of my powers and my one excuse for any kind of escape, no matter how short it is. They allow for a sense of perfect timelessness, a moment when you exist solely to raise them out of the very air itself, a hasty excuse to be allowed to go into war.

It’s strange, isn’t it, how I’d rather be at war than living my oh so luxurious life at the palace. Chances are, there’s an opportunity to get killed at war.

It would be a way to freedom.

But my King has forbidden it. He no longer grants permission for me to join the frontlines. I am expected to take a back seat to the main fighting when I’m granted permission to go join the war anyway. Cowardly.

Of both of us.

I could just disobey him and die for not listening to his orders, but despite the moments of frustration, I want to live.

It’s not much of a life.

But it’s mine.

He meets me at the door with a sickening smile, and I smile back as sweet as I can. I suppose it could be worse. He’s only stolen my freedom. He doesn’t hold my heart, and he doesn’t require it.

Sad thing is, nobody does anymore.

I had almost thought that there might be one time… But that turned out miserably, for both me and him. Taught me not to lavish my attentions on anybody else. It’s all my fault.

My King isn’t as bad looking as he could be though. And if I’d have to live up to my sluttish reputation, I suppose I’d might as well be happy that my King is almost handsome, in a certain way. He certainly doesn’t look unattractive.

He’s using me. Everyone is. I’m used to it though.

I’m the slut of the court, remember? I have to live with it.

And if my eyeliner smears sometimes with angry tears, I try not to let it bother me. After all, what is there left to get upset about? Nothing’s going to change. It’s been this way for years, and it always will be. There’s no point in fighting anymore.

I’ve lost my freedom, my heart, my life and almost the will to live it…

But that’s all right. Just let me join the ashes when I die, let me fade away to dust so I don’t have to remember the shame and the hatred of this submissive existence I lead.

King’s Consort Kindle, at your service.