Just Simply A Complication

A Tragic Beginning

"M-malu...," calls the trembling voice of the young prince,"...are you there?" He whimpers into the expanse of a long brick hall, bare feet padding lightly on stone tiles.

Candles cast haunting shadows across the walls, but young Zerreus knows he has to keep going. Something doesn't feel right.

He calls out again, following the castle's halls to the throne room. Despite his father's tyrannical nature, he would help his son, right?

---

This was the night he found his little brother dead; mutilated by their father. Malu had fallen in love with another young prince, something strictly forbidden by law. When this secret had been exposed to the king, Malu was almost immediately executed.

Argrok, the cold hearted king of demons, had killed his youngest son. His guards strung the boys body outside the castle as an example to all who saw it.

---

A blue skinned child steps through a large doorway. He wears long baggy silk pants covered in beautiful depictions of dragons and wyrms. Silver paints a picture across his bare chest.

"Zerreus, my son, come to me." The king lounges on his throne, sipping a glass of blood red wine. His dark locks fall around icy horns. A shining crown sits atop his head. He wears various silver jewelry, all generously jeweled.

The small prince looks up at him, draped in shining necklaces. Bracelets adorn his winding horns, glinting in the dim candlelight. He keeps his wings folded across his bare back.

"Father." The boy lifts his silk wraps in a curtsey for his king. He stares at the rings on his toes, too afraid to lift his gaze.

"You will not disappoint me, boy." Argrok glares harshly down at his shy heir.

"I will do as you say," the young prince whimpers.

The king grunts and downs the rest of his drink, dropping the glass on the stone floor below. It ruptures upon impact, spreading shards across the room.

"Zedan," his frozen gaze meets the fearful eyes of a lanky teenage servant, "take Zerreus to his keep. Fetch me a new glass and clean up this mess. Quickly now, boy."

"Yes, my lord." The pageboy bows, collecting glass shards in his baggy silks. Guiding his prince by the small of his back, Zedan exits the throne room.

The king has never had care for anyone other than himself. Individuals that don't obey his laws are killed. On occasion he will eat the disobedient citizens.

His army is very successful, his head of guard a military genius. The king himself takes part in all his army's battles. He stands a towering eight feet off the ground, easily two or three above his opponents. Unlike his son, he has a mastery of ice magic, being able to conjure sharp spears with ease.

Killing his youngest son was far more than easy for him.

---

As Zerreus grew to adolescence, he was trained to fight in the arena. Thrown in with no experience, the young prince took beating after beating. He eventually learned to fend for himself, exploiting every opportunity to attack. This made him cheap in the battlefield and he usually left his victims with large throat wounds.

He spent days upon days fighting with no sleep, food, or drink. He was called "The Royal Executioner" by the crowds who came to see him.

He rarely got to leave his quarters for any other reason, but one evening the royal scientist came to his door.

---

A rapid knocking wakes Zerreus from his slumber.

Muffled by the door, a voice calls out to the prince. "My lord, I must show you something. It is quite fascinating, quite fascinating indeed," stutters a scraggly man. His voice sounds like a crow choking to death.

"One moment. Allow me to ready myself." The prince slides from his velvet sheets, yawning. He slips on a pair of silver silky pants and buttons up a loose white top.

Hobbling alongside Zerreus, he tugs on the prince's silky white sleeve.

"Lead me to it then, Edward," nods Zerreus. Hands folded behind his back, the prince strides gracefully as the old demon leads him through the castle.

It is hard to believe this man is the same who created the kingdom's greatest asset. As well as designing the beast itself, he fabricated a system for it to traverse the kingdom walls. It constantly searches for food, devouring all potential intruders.

Eventually, power drove Edward mad. He was consumed by his creations long ago, now a showcase of his failure. Not a single soul who knew of this project survived. Edward killed every last one of them once he was overtaken.

The thing he tried to create completely overtook his body, leaving him in a state of constant decay. It slowly consumes his body; a fair trade for the power he weilds.

"Fantastic. Follow me." Nearly bursting with excitement, the old crow quickens his pace his quarters.

Opening a large vine covered door, Edward ushers his guest into the ruins of a cavernous room. It now filled with plants. They cover every possible surface, eating away at the once prestine tiles and columns.

Zerreus struggles to retain memories of it, squinting his eyes in focus. He hears distant violins and cellos thrumming a waltz behind quiet chattering. Wine glasses clink and a crowd cheers in unison.

"Ah yes, the ballroom," laughs the prince, "what a wonderful place left in such ruin..."

"Indeed it was wonderful..." Edward pauses, lost in a forest of memories.
Snapping back to reality, he ushers his guest forward.

"This way, your highness." Led by the scraggly man, Zerreus blindly follows, unaware of any sinister intentions.

In the far corner of the room sits an old rotting table. Roots climb up the legs, reaching upwards in vain. Shining silver writing line the exposed pages of an ancient tome.

"I discovered this in the great hall, stashed behind the throne while your father was asleep. I cannot seem to figure out what history it refers to, however..." He trails off, seemingly pondering the old book's use.

The prince strides up to the table, mind buzzing with possibilities for this volumes contents. He places his fingertips on the pages, lightly tracing over the words.

Without warning, the roots tear from their hold and constrict around Zerreus. He wheezes, breath stolen from his lungs.

He gasps for air, his voice only a wheeze, "what are you...doing..." The prince thrashes weakly in the firm grasp of unnatural nature, coughing and choking.

Edward approaches his victim from behind, cackling. "You have no idea how long I've waited. Years, no, decades, for this opportunity...and yet you walked right into my hands. You are foolish, my lord." A grin spreads along his decaying mouth, carnissals peeking through gaps in his cheeks.

Edward pulls a jagged dagger from the cavity in his emptying chest, turning it over in his fingers.

"You never learned to harness your power," Edward snarls. The roots press down on Zerreus's skull, earning his wicked assaultant a cry of pain. "I will change that."

He digs the knife into his prince's back, laughing quietly to himself.