Soren stood in the middle of the battlefield, surveying the silent carnage. Corpses lay everywhere, bodies broken and pierced. Not a soul moved for miles around him. Far to his left, the quiet castle stood, purple in the setting sun. A slight breeze rustled his ruby red hair, and his bloodstained cloak brushed against his leg.
It had been a long, painful battle, and Soren was exhausted. His body ached from cuts and bruises that covered his skin. He had refused the healers, insisting that they tend to the wounded on the battlefield first, allies and enemies alike.
He knew that he should rest with what remained of his army, but he couldn't yet. Too many things were running through his mind.
Soren walked foward, towards the large sword planted point first in the ground. Its hilt was blue, with a large sapphire embedded on the crosspiece. His brothers sword. Soren had planted it there, right after running his brothers chest through with it.
He knelt sorrowfully before it, resting his own thin sword on the ground next to him. The hilt on his was long, with rubies on the end and on the crosspiece. It was a beautiful sword, made by the finest swordsmiths. But there was blood on it, the bright color matching the rubies.
"I'm sorry, Kalim, my brother." Soren whispered "I'm sorry that it had to be this way. It had to be done."
He bowed his head a moment, then stood. As he surveyed the battlefield once more, he felt his eyes begin to sting, and a sob begin to build in his throat.
Was this all worth it? He asked himself sorrowfully. So much death. My father, Kalim...
Tears finally flowed down his cheeks as he remembered his father. His father had been tall, and powerfully built. He'd had red hair like Sorens', but brown eyes like Kalim. But he'd died early in the battle, leaving Soren to take the lead. Soren had not yet had time to let reality sink in. He would never see his father or brother again.
His vision blurred, and reached up to wipe the tears away, then stopped as he saw something gliding in the air towards him.
What is that?
It was a small butterfly, vibrantly blue and purple in color, a spot of beauty admist the destruction.
Soren gently extended his hand, and to his surprise, the butterfly landed on it, closing its wings to rest. Soren slowly brought his gauntleted hand closer to his face. His vision cleared, and he felt a sense of wonder at the beauty of the sunset, the clouds reflecting its colors, and the small creature resting on his fingers. A feeling of peace washed over him, and resolve grew in his heart.
Yes, he thought, it was worth it. We are finally at peace once again.
Even with so much loss, Soren knew, in his heart, the long awaited dream of peace that had once belonged to his father, had finally come true.
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A note.
This story was inspired by a picture on a coloring app called Happy Color. If you want to see it, I'll post it on my page.
This was a short read, and as you pointed out, was written from inspiration of a picture (I know that feeling ;D), but you did an excellent job at translating it into words. I've never seen the picture, but by reading this, I can almost see it. 
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