Illuminating the Dark Prince

Prologue- Abyssal Abdication (Pt. 2)

One thousand disconsolate years had drifted by, floating through the tormented prince's corpsen fingers like ephemeral ashes upon the unforgiving winds of time. Winds that seemed to whisper painfully bitter memories to his bereft and forlorn spirit. They grievously danced through his silky chin-length hair, and fluttered through his regal cloak of shadows. 

Valarendrik stood stoically upon one of the many balconies in the royal castle, with his deathly crimson eyes wistfully gazing out over the dark and gloomy oceanwaters. He painfully pressed his sharp black claws into the intricately carved stone railing, causing his equally black blood to pool around his cuticles.

Today was the day of his royal coronation, and also the day that he was to be wed. Soon he would be the king of Tenveriel, an heir to the throne would be conceived, and then he would die. He closed his mournful eyes, taking comfort in knowing that death would finally grace him with the eternal sleep that he so desperately longed for.

Recollections of his invidious life caressed his mind like a sinister whip gently gliding over skin, right before being violently cracked into the flesh. He knew nothing of beauty, nor compassion, nor love. But in the shadow of death, his soul knew relief. 

The queen and Elder Graith's deceptions had been cruel and relentless. They'd fed him malicious lies from a silver spoon, enshrouding his fragmented soul in a veil of shame and despair. For even the purest of souls could be broken, and his was shattered. 

Their malevolent whispers tirelessly echoed in his mind. They cooed to him that he was a mentally deranged abomination. A weakling unfit to be king. A disgrace to the royal bloodline. That he was only needed to produce a worthy heir, then he would be better off dead... And he truly believed every word.

His face contorted with pain as memories of the queen's torture ripped through his soul. His eyes squeezed tighter closed, as he recalled the gruesome atrocities she'd inflicted upon him over the years, often within the dreary depths of the dungeons. She insured that despite being a prince, he knew just how powerless and weak he was. 

Her remorseless assaults were always vicious and unceasing, only ending once the prince closed his eyes from falling into unconsciousness. Because when she looked into her son's sorrowful gaze, she saw her death staring back at her. Consequently, from his decaying prison of beaten and weathered flesh, his spirit longed to depart.

The crown softly twitched upon his head as his thoughts drifted to his failures. He had trained tirelessly to master the sword. Often taking his favorite, although rather ditzy steed, Sagacor, out to the lamenting orchards, where he would passionately practice wielding Aldrinan's twin swords- His twin swords. 

Yet, no matter how much dedication and strength he poured into his practice, there was still one swordsman who remained his adversary. The queen's personal body guard, Rhistven. And so, he was unable to fulfill his promise, causing his regret to swallow him whole, just as the serpent had swallowed his brother all those years ago.

The soft pattering of feet began to slowly approach him. His eyes opened and gazed up towards the tempest obsidian clouds like two mournful garnets. His keen senses allowed him to know who was there without even looking. The sound of an undead woman daintily clearing her throat filled his ears, yet he did not turn to face her.

"Why do you disturb me, Moryinia?" His hair danced around his solemn face, as he vacantly spoke to his fiancé in his deep voice.

"The queen has requested that you drink from this cup before our matrimonial ceremony." She held a sinister looking chalice full of stygian goo up towards him, though still, he didn't spare her nor the chalice a glance.