Illuminating the Dark Prince

Prologue- Abyssal Abdication (Pt. 2)

He gripped the stonework even tighter in frustration, causing more blood to pool around his fingertips. He knew the queen was drugging him so he'd be more eager to consummate the marriage. He had not yet known a woman's touch, and she wanted to make sure that he did the job thoroughly. 

Moryinia was born to a noble tenverian family, and the queen had hand picked her to be Valarendrik's bride for her unmatched cruelty and guile alone. Although she was very beautiful by undead standards, and he was indeed physically attracted to her, her sordid personality and putrid soul repulsed him. The thought of being intimate with her repulsed his foreign soul.

"Place it on the railing and leave." He coldly ordered.

The dark metal of the chalice clinked against the stonework as she mindfully placed it down. Her ruby gaze fell upon the prince's bloodied fingertips, and anger coursed through her rotten veins. She quickly grabbed one of his hands, pulling it from the railing. 

Valarendrik furiously whipped around to face her, taking in the sight of her elegantly styled raven hair, and dark greyish-purple bridal gown adorned with black lace. Her brazen smile did nothing to hide the sadistic glimmer in her big doe eyes.

"Do not touch me!" He growled, yanking his hand away.

"Forgive me, your highness." She sardonically gritted through her sharp teeth. "But do not do such things. I don't want our child's crown to become damaged."

In that moment, her venom dipped words speared through Valarendrik's heart like nothing else could. They dug into his mind, excavating a gruesome veracity that he had long ago stuffed away into the darkest depths of his consciousness... His fingers were his unborn child's crown...

"You have overstepped your bounds, Moryinia. You are not a queen yet, and even when you are, I'll still be your king. Now leave! Get out of my sight! Or your head will roll, regardless of Cerindier's wishes." He aggressively spat, hiding the fact that bile was suddenly burning in the back of his throat.

She glared up at him with loathing. "You and I both know that you'll never be a true king. You're too weak. I look forward to baring you an heir, because then it will be your head that rolls, and I will joyously partake the consumption of your flesh." With that, she haughtily tossed a lock of her raven hair over her shoulder, and stormed off.

Valarendrik didn't care in the slightest, especially since now he was drowning in crashing waves of anxiety. His heart pounded violently in his chest, as he stared down at his hands in utter distress, imagining his fingerbones being hammered into his child's skull. Fear coursed through his veins, though not for himself, but for his unborn. What if he passed down his mental infliction and they suffered just as he did? How could he knowingly condemn his own young to such a cruel fate?

"What if my child is like me?" He apprehensively thought.

His hands began to tremble as the weighted reality of what he was expected to do for his kingdom clawed at his mind. Now that the time had come, he realized that he couldn't damn his child to the same horrors and abuse that he'd suffered. He was not heartless nor unempathetic like the rest of his kind. And he wanted to protect his unborn child from their atrocities.  

He abruptly leapt over the railing and off of the balcony like a madman, knocking over the chalice with his boot. Then, like a shadowy phantom silently gliding through the night, he skillfully navigated his way down the side of the dark ghastly castle, flipping and leaping from over hanging roofs and ledges. 

His feet finally landed of the ground's rocky terrain, causing a few strange little bat-like creatures to hastily fly off into the blackened sky. A deranged and manic gleam glimmered in his eyes, as they honed in on a jagged stone.