Summary: He was born with many duties: to his country, to his feelings, to his king. Intricate webs of blood, loyalty and desire made him a prince far too different from others.

Notes: This story takes place during Path of Radiance's storyline, following the original plot in a general sense. There will be no pairings (there are hints of canon pairings, but only if you squint).

Beta: IsaDaYDrEaMer and Tami. (Many thanks!)

Divergence

Prologue

The emotions were running wild, increasing with each soul consumed by them. Fear, agony, pain, grief, despair –The battle had strewn the Crimean soil with blood. He surveyed the scene playing ahead of him, his face set in an expression of controlled indifference to all despite the disgust he felt with the mere idea of unfounded bloodshed. Many battles had unfolded before him prior to this one, but none matched the cruelty of the invasion of Crimea on the orders of King Ashnard of Daein.

Soldiers clad in black armor slaughtered the unprepared Crimeans, fighters and civilians alike. The emotions coursing through them were driving him to the brim of insanity. His own cursed blood was screaming out for him to take part in the killing, yet he contained himself; his façade of apathy was only betrayed by the slight trembling of his fists.

Soren was most disgusted at sharing the bloodlust of the man that was his father. At the front lines, King Ashnard was leading the charge with a maniac glint in his eyes as he almost merrily cut down anyone foolish enough to stand before him. Seeing this both sickened and made Soren crave to join the fray; a battlefield as such made his feral instincts to slowly crawl to the surface.

However, he forced himself to watch. This bloodshed had been the result of his weakness, of his fear to oppose his father. Bearing with that thought was only part of his divine punishment –The screams, the pleas of mercy, the cries of children before their dead parents– they would all hunt him until his life's breath left him. Even though Soren was forced to give out the strategy that allowed King Ashnard to lay waste to an innocent country, the guilt still rested on him. Had he been stronger… had he been fearless… But many things had weighted him down. As a prince, he had a duty. As Prince Daein, he was obliged to bend to his father's will. And as a simple, living being, he had to hold true to his heart.

The battle advanced quickly, Crimea was losing any opportunity to get the upper hand, as Soren had expected. Daein's main army had finally secured the castle. The prince was left at the entrance of the castle with a small unit to guard him until further orders. The Daein army was rounding up all those that were defending the building; the king had dived into Crimea Castle to hunt for the royal family, his wyvern viciously tearing apart the walls to make its way through.

Soren contemplated the soldiers serving his father: they shared the same trait –fear of defying the Mad King. They would often confuse that for loyalty. He couldn't help but scoff. Many considered the opportunity to raise their social standing by proving their worth in the military to be a one-in-a-lifetime blessing. Many sought to rise amongst the army, but once they joined, they saw the real horrors of King Ashnard. They were obliged to obey, fearing the king's retribution –death.

He only took the best, and if they failed to satisfy King Ashnard's expectations or tried to turn back, they were as good as dead. For twenty years, Daein had fallen into their king's tyranny silently; no word of it had been relayed to other countries. Yet no one had risen to stand against it openly. Day by day, the people endured the suffering, lived in fear, oppressed by their king's very whim.

Soren himself had experienced his countrymen's pain since the day he was born. The first thing he learned was to please. He had to excel, he had to stand out to earn the praise of his father. The price for his failure, however, was not his own life. Had it been so, Soren would have been able to escape King Ashnard's grasp with ease.

As Soren grew up, his prowess in spell casting exceeded his instructor's expectations, but it was the prince's brilliance at war strategy was what picked the Mad King's attention. His father had been so far displeased that his son showed no aptitude to wield a weapon, yet he finally found Soren's genius far more useful to him –There were many great warriors in his army and they were an easier find than a brilliant mind to strategize. However, the king needed to harness his son's talent exclusively for his twisted plans.

Ashnard was cunning in the ways of torture and manipulation. Over the years, he had allowed brief meetings between Soren and Almedha, letting the young prince taste the ephemeral feeling of warmth and content that only his mother could offer him. As mother and child had grown close, Ashnard made his move: he took his child's mother hostage, guaranteeing Soren's absolute obedience. This had been so ever since Soren had turned of age and was acknowledged as the heir to the throne; when he had gained the standing to command and, in Ashnard's view, to rebel against him.

A shout of alarm made his mind drift back to the present situation. Soren turned towards the source of it, focusing to decipher the words over the noise of the army: "… halt the Crimean princess' escape! All units on standby give chase!"

His guard prepared to comply. However, as the troop of riders spilled into the castle's courtyard, Soren was immediately suspicious. Princess Crimea's flight should be executed with stealth if they hoped for a chance of success. He doubted that even the inexperienced commanders were dumb enough to send the princess' escort into the enemy's front –unless it was a diversion.

Soren quickly pressed against the castle walls, further into the shadows of the night, escaping the Crimean troop's notice as they engaged his guard and the remaining Daein soldiers at the plaza. He stayed alert, trying to hear anything that foretold the arrival of white-clad reinforcements. After a few moments, the prince slipped through the castle's portico unnoticed. His mind was racing, playing out the possible scenarios before him. He didn't know what possessed him to aim to locate the Crimean princess. Was it his desire to prove himself useful? Or the mere curiosity…?

Yet, when he reached one of the peripheral halls, all reasoning died in him. The king of Crimea lay still amidst a pool of blood, his arm held out, still clutching his sword. A lady, possessing the regal appearance of one with royal blood, was standing before King Ashnard with her arms spread out wide, shielding a younger woman who was trembling in fear behind her. However, the Crimean king's wife was not begging for her life, instead she spoke fearlessly to Daein's ruler, promising the restoration of Crimea against any hardships imposed to her country.

"Our deaths won't halt the desire of liberty from our people. One day, they will rise and strike back to regain the sovereignty of the country they love. That will be the day Crimea will be reborn into a better, stronger country!"

Ashnard was amused; he laughed derisively at her while he motioned for his guards to stand down. In response to the lady's words, he slashed Gurgurant down on her mercilessly. The princess seemed frightened beyond words, as no sound escape from her lips, tears streaming down her face as her eyes darted towards the motionless forms of her parents.

The king turned to her now. She made no move to escape. Her eyes were fixed on the man towering her, her body completely still now, as if waiting for the strike that would end her life.

Fool! Get out of there! Soren found himself thinking desperately. He reached down into his robes to a small pouch. He couldn't watch any longer as this girl was about to waste her mother's sacrifice.

"Let us reunite you with your dear parents, little princess. Don't worry; you'll be gone so fast you won't even fell it!" Ashnard let out another shout of his terrible laugher before bringing Gurgurant up, fresh blood dripping down the edge of the blade, preparing to slice through the princess' fragile body.

However, he was surprised to find his sword colliding against a pair of knives with a loud clank of metal against metal. The force of the hit threw Soren out of balance, his knives soaring out of his grasp. He landed painfully on his side, aware of the warm blood spilling down his arm, soaking his long sleeve. He had nearly no experience fighting with weapons and standing against his father, who was an experienced swordsman with a mightier physical strength than him, without any opportunity to unleash a spell was a suicidal move.

He felt the rough hand of his father around his throat, hoisting him up brutally, his feet dangling a feet above the floor. "How gallant of you to save that girl's neck." Soren felt Ashnard's foul breath on his face as he fought to breath. "Were you moved by that woman's words, perhaps? Ha! How very amusing you are, my son!"

He was flung against the wall. His head collided with the hard surface causing bright spots erupt in his sight. But soon, Soren felt a snide smirk forming on his face as heard his father scream in rage when numerous riders stormed through the hall. Using their mounts' speed, the Crimeans struck at the few soldiers of Daein's Royal Guard, buying enough time for a young knight in green armor to safely hoist the princess behind him on his white stallion. The next moment, they were gone before the king had time to strike back.

Ashnard immediately sent his guard to give chase, but Soren highly doubted the infantry would catch up with the knights' horses. He was dimly aware of the consequences of his actions as consciousness was slipping out of his reach. His pounding instincts were fading into nothing. Soren was again pulled up roughly.

Darkness was creeping at the corners of his eyes as he stared dully into his father's raging face. "You stinking child –you let my prey escape." The king slammed Soren against the wall, drawing a gasp of pain from the prince. "I trust you know the punishment for betrayal. Or any disobedience, to speak of."

Soren forced himself to maintain his focus on his father's cruel eyes. "My life means nothing."

"I know that, you little freak." The maniac light was returning to his eyes. "However, I hope you're ready to see your mother begging and writhing in agony as she witnesses your death first hand."