Author's Note: Rated T for blood and violence.

"Rei Shingetsu" was nothing more than a pseudonym. His entire personality had been carefully crafted for the sole purpose of betrayal. Even so, he wasn't entirely an act. Vector himself wasn't aware of it at the time, but he'd been like that once. His rebirth into the Barian world had caused him to forget, but the ruins - his ruins - had dragged the memories up from the depths of his subconscious. Everything he'd experienced in his life on Earth came flooding back, pouring over him like a massive wave and crashing down on his shoulders. And the force of the impact nearly brought him to his knees.

Amidst the violent swirl of past passions, ambitions, and fears, a single memory gradually took shape before his eyes. It wasn't his first in a linear sense, but it was a turning point. It was his true beginning.

The stone walls of the palace echoed harshly with the sound of footsteps and hushed voices. Two serving girls hurried down the long, empty corridor, carrying bundles of clean white cloth and a bowl of water. They whispered furtively to each other as they went, glancing around every once in a while to make sure no one would overhear.

"Is His Majesty hurt?"

"No, I heard that the young prince took a nasty fall from his horse."

"Again?"

"Aye." The older of the two sighed softly, shaking her head. "The poor child just can't seem to keep his balance."

The younger girl suppressed a giggle. "My sister can ride a donkey all day, and she's three years his junior."

The other girl silenced her with a glare. "You mustn't ever speak ill of the royal family," she whispered gravely.

The younger girl raised an eyebrow. "But I'm sure we're alone."

The older girl's eyes traveled upwards and focused on the rafters. "The walls here have ears..." she murmured. "Especially now."

The younger girl didn't ask what she'd meant by that; she simply hurried through the halls in silence, eyes downcast, until the two of them reached the courtyard near the stables.

The scene that greeted them there was, sadly, not an uncommon one. The prince's horse, a sleek black stallion, snorted quietly and pawed at the ground as one of the grooms held him by the reins. A couple of yards to the left, a manservant knelt on the ground, about to tear a strip of cloth from the end of his tunic. Next to him lay a young boy, arms and legs splayed. He had a shock of bright orange hair and fair skin, and he seemed strangely relaxed despite the large, red gash on his left arm.

"Stop fussing, Hamza," the boy complained, turning his head to inspect the wound. "This is nothing."

The manservant sighed. "Bleeding out after falling from a horse would not be a particularly honorable death, my prince."

The prince groaned in frustration, then sat up when he noticed the two serving girls. "Look, you don't have to rip your tunic; the bandages are here."

The two girls bowed respectfully, then knelt down and placed the bowl of water on the ground, starting to unwind the bandages. Hamza suddenly shooed them away, grinning. "I'll take care of it. Go do whatever you were doing."

As the girls scurried away, Hamza dipped one end of the cloth in the water and started to wash the prince's wound. "You were doing quite well today..."

The boy pouted. "I thought I said you could be honest with me."

Hamza chuckled. "Forgive me. You shouldn't have tried to take Sassan over those rocks, Vector." He started to wrap the cloth around the prince's arm. "He may be bred for war, but he's younger than you are, and just as liable to buck."

Vector grinned. "Sassan didn't buck. I jumped off on purpose." He winked impishly. "I was practicing a new fighting move."

Hamza smiled knowingly. "So that's the official story, then." He continued to wrap the cloth around the boy's arm, working carefully and silently.

After a moment or two, Vector suddenly spoke up. "Hamza, you're my friend, but you're also honest, so I can ask you this. Do you think I'll be a good king?"

The man mulled over the question for a moment or two before responding. "Well, you're quite clever and you mean well..."

Vector sighed. "But meaning well's not enough, right?" He hung his head. "Father's always saying that. I can't lead our empire into battle if I mess up everything I touch."

A flash of pity crossed Hamza's face, but after only a moment, it was wiped away by a warm smile. "But you also work very hard, and practice can make even the most lily-livered pansy into a seasoned warrior." He finished wrapping the bandages and tied the cloth tight with a firm knot. "And Prince Vector is no pansy."

Vector grinned and jumped to his feet. "I'll just be the only warrior that can't ride."

Hamza stood up and followed the prince towards the castle. "That's what chariots are for. Besides, you're already much better than many soldiers in one respect, at least."

Vector raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Hamza grinned and gently patted the boy's freshly-bandaged arm. "You don't cry when you get hurt."

The king sat on his throne, drummed his fingers on the armrest thereof and sighed. "Bring my son to me," he commanded one of his attendants, the hint of annoyance in his tone ringing harshly through the great hall. The attendant bowed and hurried away through one of the doors, leaving the king alone in the long, high-ceilinged room. He sighed again, gazing absentmindedly at the tapestry of Avesta the Great at the Battle of Sistan. The tapestry depicted the ancient ruler as larger-than-life, with a scimitar in his hand and piles of slain enemies at his feet. The king stared at the tapestry wistfully, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish Vector could be a little bit more like you..." He scowled. "Look at me, talking to the tapestries again." He stroked his short chestnut beard absentmindedly. "Perhaps I should spend some time at the palace down in Mazdai; I could use a little relaxation."

Suddenly, one of the double doors at the other end of the great hall swung open, and a page darted inside. "Announcing His Royal Highness Prince Cambyses of Gaumata, lord of the Mediyan Islands, slayer of one hundred men." Immediately following this, a tall man clothed in scarlet robes swept into the hall and approached the throne, stopping for a moment to dip his head as he did so. "Your Majesty..."

The king huffed. "Please dispense with the formalities, brother. I trust something of great import must have occurred to bring you bursting into my court uninvited."

Cambyses nodded. "The lords talk of rebellion, Cyrus. They fear that your recent passivity will endanger the empire."

The king scowled. "They are nothing more than a collection of squabbling fools. Ahrima has stood for a thousand years, and she will stand for a thousand more, regardless of how I deal with the Parthians."

Cambyses narrowed his eyes slightly, deepening the thin wrinkles on his forehead. "The lords aren't interested in logic; they want a war, and they'll only fight for a king who will give it to them."

The king sighed. "A war? We just had a war; a long and terrible war." He looked his brother in the eye. "The people are enjoying their peace. Who are we to take it from them so swiftly? Cambyses, Ahrima and I are exhausted. Parthian will still be there for the empire to conquer when Vector takes the throne."

Cambyses avoided the king's gaze. "That's what I was afraid you'd say..."

Hamza had just closed the castle door behind the young prince when one of the king's attendants appeared from down the hall. "My prince, your presence is requested in the great hall," he announced, bowing. "His Majesty your father will speak with you."

Vector nodded curtly. "Thank you."

The attendant bowed once more before hurrying off. Vector glanced up at Hamza. "How long do you think the lecture will last today?"

Hamza smirked. "One siglos says it'll be thirty minutes."

Vector laughed. "Only one siglos? You're being awfully cautious." He folded his arms as he walked and turned up his nose. "That bet's not worth taking."

Hamza smiled softly. "Forgive me." He suddenly lapsed into an uneasy silence, gazing intently at the stone floor beneath his feet as he walked.

After a moment or two, Vector noticed his reticence and tilted his head slightly. "Is something the matter?"

Hamza appeared startled at first, but he quickly recovered and smiled warmly. "No, I was simply thinking about something. But I am honored by your concern."

Vector grinned cheekily, wagging his finger. "Shame on you; servants are not supposed to think."

Hamza rolled his eyes, smiling. "Forgive me, your highness, I shan't do it again."

Within a few minutes, the two of them stood before the double doors that led to the great hall. There was no one else in sight, and Vector paused. "Where's the page?"

Hamza glanced around and shrugged. "I'm afraid I cannot say. But he will be sorely punished for leaving his post."

Vector smirked. "Well then, I suppose I'll just have to announce myself." With some effort, he pushed open the double doors and strode into the hall, eyes closed and head high. "Announcing His Royal Highness Prince Vector of Parsis, lord of the province of Acina, slayer of one hundred insects, and crown prince of the illustrious Ahriman Empire…" He trailed off and stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.

At the other end of the great hall, the throne sat empty. The king who should have been sitting on it lay instead at its base, face-down with his arms and legs splayed. A small patch of red had seeped out over the stone from underneath his torso. The page stood over the king's unmoving body, a bloody shiv in his hand. And to the left, beside the throne, stood…

Vector gasped and took a tiny step backwards. "Uncle Cambyses?" The boy's eyes widened and his face paled as he realized what had happened. "You…no..."

Cambyses let out a heavy sigh, leaning casually against the back of the throne. "I'm sorry, Vector, but…" He shook his head, an expression of deep remorse upon his face. "Sometimes we have to sacrifice even the ones we love for the good of the empire. You understand, don't you?"

The page climbed over the king's body and began making his way towards the front of the great hall, shiv raised. Vector took another step back, trembling. As the page drew closer, his breath caught in his throat. Desperate, he fought through the panic that had taken hold of him and screamed, "I'll abdicate!" His lower lip trembled. "Please… please don't…"

Cambyses sighed again, this time looking mildly annoyed. "I'm sorry, but I really can't keep you alive. See, the thing about little boys like you is that one day, you'll grow up." He smirked. "And as you can see, grown up princes can be dangerous."

Vector stood completely still for a moment, frozen in fear. But as the page continued to walk towards him, shiv raised to kill, the boy broke free from his daze and bolted towards the double doors, heart pounding in his chest. But the sudden sight of the man standing before them, barring his escape with a raised scimitar, stopped it cold.

Vector skidded to a halt, eyes wide in disbelief. "...Hamza?"

The man held the boy's gaze, but said nothing.

Vector's bottom lip trembled, eyes pleading desperately. "Please let me out… please…" He could hear the page's footsteps behind him. "Hamza… Hamza!"

The man turned his face away. "Forgive me, my prince."

Vector heard the footsteps behind him stop. "No…" he murmured, turning around slowly. He saw the page's shiv hang in the air for a moment, heard the soft swish as it swung down…

Suddenly, the great hall was filled with a burst of red light. Vector squinted, unable to see anything. He heard a blood-curdling scream, but it sounded warped, as though he was hearing it through water. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the light vanished, and Vector was left staring down the great hall, blinking furiously to refocus his vision.

Once he was able to see properly again, he immediately noticed two things. One was the body of the page, lying on the stone floor with no visible wounds except a look of sheer terror on his face. The other was a strange man, standing not two feet away from him. He was tall and thin, draped in a dark hooded cloak that obscured most of his face in shadow. The man smirked, and his eyes began to glow red. "Are you unhurt, my prince?"

Vector blinked, and took a step back. "Who are you? What did you do?"

The strange man bowed. "My name is Don Thousand, and I am here to help you." He raised his head, smirking wickedly. "That is, if you'll promise me one thing in return."

Cambyses drew a dagger from within his robes and descended the steps from the throne, looking rattled but undeterred. "Stand down, whoever you are." He frowned. "This is family business."

Don Thousand held out a skeletal hand towards Vector. "Your death rapidly approaches; will you hear my offer?"

Vector nodded vehemently. "Tell me what you want me to do!"

The strange man smirked. "This is my proposition: I will serve and protect you and your empire for the rest of your days. Ask anything of me, anything at all, and you shall receive. All I require in exchange is that when your time does come…" His red eyes flashed. "...your soul will serve me."

Vector's heart skipped a beat. "My soul?"

Don Thousand grinned. "Aye."

Vector fell silent, hesitant. His eyes flitted back and forth, unsure.

"Are you finished chatting?" Cambyses raised the dagger in his hand and lunged towards Vector.

The boy clenched his fists and stared straight into the strange man's red eyes. "I accept!"

Don Thousand calmly reached into his cloak and withdrew an impossibly large scythe, blade glistening red. With one fluid motion, he swung the weapon in a wide arc and brought it back to his side.

A moment later, Cambyses' head slid gracefully off the base of his neck and fell to the ground.

The rest of his body crumpled to the floor within seconds amid a shower of red. Vector watched it blankly, eyes still wide, not noticing the warm blood that splashed onto his face and chest.

Don Thousand turned towards the double doors, scythe raised. Vector suddenly thrust out an arm. "Stop!" He turned towards the doors. "Don't kill him."

Hamza faced the boy, scimitar hanging loosely by his side. The two watched each other, unmoving, for what seemed like ages. Finally, a sad, subdued smile began to tug at the corners of Hamza's mouth. "You're quite composed."

Vector's expression didn't change. "You said it yourself; I don't cry when I'm hurt."

Hamza slowly raised the scimitar and held it out towards the boy, hilt first. "You know the penalty for treason."

Vector's face softened as he grasped the sword. "Hamza... you don't have to..."

Hamza sank to his knees and linked his hands behind his back. He smiled once before hanging his head. "Make it quick."

"No!" The scimitar in Vector's hand shook violently. "I won't do it!"

"You must!" Hamza's voice wavered, and his shoulders trembled. "Please... my prince..."

Vector stood silently with the sword in his hand; as the seconds passed, tears gradually started to form in the corners of his eyes.

He held the scimitar in both hands, clenching it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He then slowly raised the sword, and held the blade over the exposed back of Hamza's neck.

The last thing Hamza felt before the brief sting of the blade was a light drop of wetness on the top of his shoulder.

It was the last tear Prince Vector of Parsis would shed for a very long time.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas! Here, have something depressing! :D

I've actually been wanting to write this fic since I first found out about Vector's past life. I want to show how good old Vec became so gloriously insane (it's going to be a gradual process; this one chapter just gets the ball rolling). Since he's still only a teen during the battle with Nasch, I tried to make him a slightly precocious 7-10 here.

I looked at the Legendary Numbers map to try and find out where our mad prince lived, but it looks like Vector's castle is in the middle of the ocean. Also, the architecture of that place is so messed up that I couldn't really get any clues from that, either, so I ultimately went with the vibes I was getting from his outfit. No shirt, poofy pants, and a sophisticated navy signaled 'Persia' to me, so all names of people and places were pulled from various Wikipedia articles on the first empire thereof. It's still a made-up country, though, so please don't get upset when there are inconsistencies.