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APH RevengeItaly didn't move as he twirled the bottle of wine in his hands. He slowly brought the bottle to his lips and tilted it to take a drink. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Most people believed that he was stupid. That he was clueless and he didn't know or notice anything.
One couldn't be an artist without noticing and realizing a lot of details.
One couldn't be the blood heir of the Roman Empire without being strong. They couldn't handle the stress and the pain brought on by those lands and history.
His eyes were trained on one painting only. A painting he had made.
A painting of the Holy Roman Empire.
His lips curled back in a snarl at the familiar stab of pain through his heart.
He stood, the bottle dangling on his fingertips. He walked slowly until he reached a small cabinet. He opened it and reached for a label less bottle he knew he had. He had taken it out many times and stroked it, the same plan running through his head over and over again.
The pain in his heart was overwhelming.
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