Our Prince (Creepypasta × Male! Reader)

Chapter Seventeen

You had one week left until the battle and the house was on high alert the whole time. Slenderman strengthened the protection of the wards on the house to maximize their effectiveness. Unfortunately, with the mass amount of protection energy around the mansion, you and your family soon realized that no one could leave either. This was soon realized after Ben tried to leave the house in search of a pair of earbuds he misplaced. The boy was pushed back into the house by an invisible force and landed on his back. He claims that in his ghostly form he was unharmed, but when Jeff pushed him down on the ground to test his claim, he squealed like a girl.

The upgrade in protection did little to assist in the unimaginably large headaches you were getting. With each passing day leading up to the final week, they were getting worse and worse. On some days, they got so bad that you had a momentary laspe of consciousness doing the most ordinary things. Luckily, the most disastrous thing to have happened because of this was the breaking of a glass...

"I'll be right back," you'd said, raising from your seat on the couch next to Jane and Masky.

"Okay," Jane mumbled absently, picking underneath her nails for any dirt.

You hopped over Ben, who was sporadically pressing buttons on his controller, trying not to obstruct his view of the television and went into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet overhead, you prayed to whatever God that was out there to make the pain in your head stop. Instead, it only got worse. Just as you went to pick up the glass from the shelf, your vision went dark.

You groped for the counter to stop yourself from falling, dropping the cup and letting it shatter. The next thing you knew, you were at the kitchen table with Jane and Masky hovering over you, their faces unreadable by their masks. You could hear Jeff cursing under his breath as he proceeded to pick up the glass fragments on the ground.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Masky asked, gripping your shoulder in concern.

You groaned and put your head in your arms on the table. "Ihetmaphded," you muttered into your arms.

"What was that?" Jane asked.

Lifting your head up so you could speak, you yelled, "I hate my dad."

"Do you want us to get E.J. for you?" She asked, resting a hand on your other shoulder.

"No, there's no point," you sighed, "no matter what I do, they're not going to go away. I might as well get used to them..."

After that incident in the kitchen, Jane made more of an effort to come see you more often in private. She spents the nights in your room curled up by your side and wrapped up snuggly in your warm wings. She admitted to you that she was afraid these were your last nights together as a couple and as best friends.

"It isn't," you had told her. "After the war, we'll be together forever."

"I hope you're right, Y/N," she whispered back. Yawning, she'd wrapped her arms around your torso and laid her head on your chest and slept.

That night was a night of no headaches. There was no dull pounding on the temples of your head. You watched Jane sleep and felt an vaguely familiar wash of peace and tranquility. You remembered your nights of watching Opal sleep in your arms back in the Underealm; how her chest rose and fall and how her hair rained in long waves down her back. You wondered if all females slept like this, with such helplessness and innocence. You assumed that surely not all girls were this perfect.

The next morning, you woke up and saw that she wasn't next to you which wasn't a surprise. She liked to sneak out of your room at early hours and back into her room in case Clockwork decided to make an unexpected visit in the middle of the night. Yawning, you got up and walked to the window to pull back your curtains. When you did, you saw a note attatched to the outside of the window. Opening your window and plucking the note off from the outside, you sat on your bed and read the familiar handwriting you hated, oh, so much.

My son,

It is almost time for the war I have dreaded for a long time. I don't wish for these words to be my last, but we both know that one of us will not be making it out alive. If these words are to be what you remember me by then I would like to say that I am sorry for everything dealt unto you. The death of your mother, Opal, and even the death of our relationship as father and son. If I could go back in time then I would make your life the happiest and make sure that you never knew want or need or desire. But even you know that my abilities aren't that powerful.

This family of yours, the Creepypastas, have done good to you. They were able to give you the life I couldn't give you: love, support, forgiveness... and I commend them for that. But at the same time, they stole you away from me. I am your family, Y/N; I am your flesh and bones; I am your true blood; your father.

Fight with them if you want. Try to kill me. You'll be on your knees begging for mercy before the crack of dawn and you're not going to get it. I will kill you with my own sword, Y/N Za'lgatoth, and your head will be plastered on my wall. Then, the whole Underealm will know of your disobedience and insubordination under my authority as Lord. But they will learn from your mistakes and the young demon men will strive to be strong, cruel, heartless, and obedient servants under my rule. When you are gone, I will send them out into the forest and order them to slaughter every single last one of the Creepypastas, not only in your home, but in the rest of the world.

And maybe then, my son, you will learn what it is like to be Lord of the most powerful force in the whole entire universe.

Signed,
Lord Za'lgatoth of the Underealm

You sighed, folding the note neatly and putting it on your nightstand right next to your bed. You layed back on your bed and looked up at the ceiling, hoping to find some answers to your titanic problem. In your head, you saw how this war would play out. Much like the Titanic itself, you thought it would be a good idea and that this would be easy. The most victorious event in Creepypasta history. But in reality, it could be a total wash out and everything you had ever known would be killed in an instant.

If the Titanic could sail across the North Atlantic Ocean then you could survive a war. But unlike that unfortunate ship, you'll be ready for the iceberg coming your way.

Hey, it's Squishy. Honestly, I feel like this chapter sucked, but I really needed a transition chapter before the battle against Zalgo actually happened. So, sorry for this suck ass chapter, but the next one will definitely be better. This book is almost done and I'm hoping once it is, I can finally start working on the sequel to The Sound of Love, which is an Adventure Time fanfic and the first fanfiction I ever published. If you haven't read it, don't, it's awful 😂. But if you like Adventure Time and you like Prince Gumball and Marshall Lee, then go for it. Until next week, my fellow Wattpadians.

-SquishySmithIII