I gazed far out across the once green lands, their rolling hills bleak beneath a clouded sky. Rain fell, and seeing the ruin about me, I could not feel satisfied. In the end, this wasn't entirely what I had wanted for the people and the land. My blood had burned and I had turned to rage when I should have been fully sober and making decisions thoughtfully. I should have been more diplomatic, more subtle. But I had been, had I not? The King had thought me a loyal ally, when in truth; I was getting close to him only to usurp his shining throne. I was cunning and dark when I needed to be, a treacherous serpent, a Venus fly trap. However, I was known for my fits of rage and blazing, flourishing temper. Even my own people feared me for that. I often blamed my heritage, my ethnicity, for my mood changes and sudden blood-lusts. I was the only male born for over a hundred or so years, born to be a king. My people were solely comprised of women, and maybe it was sexist or unjust of me to accuse them of breeding a tyrant, but it was easier than accepting that perhaps I had some internal issues.
But now was not a time for regrets or mindless ponderings upon the nature of me. The world was at my feet, bowing and cowering. Oh, sure, there was a small resistance group simmering to the west, and the forests would never truly be mine, but I had everything under control. And perhaps I could convince the forest to bend to my will if I had an insider. I send moblins in search of those elusive skullchildren, said to have once been children of the forest who had gotten lost in the Woods. They appealed to me, lost souls-turned monstrous. I could feel their unguided potential stirring, and nearly purred at the thought of what they could be capable of with my cunning mind guiding them. In my mind, their mischievous ways held a hidden malice; and the evil in them, planted as a seed when they changed from child to monster, was the essence of the ancient forest born into their very souls. They could wreak my havoc where I dare not go. My eyes lingered on the brooding forest across the plain, and the shadow of a smirk fell lax across my lips. I turned my gaze to the once bustling, glorious Castletown.
This I regret, the derelict buildings, the gloom-saturated atmosphere. What was left of the civilians stayed hidden and tucked away in their homes. Re-dead sentinels stood as if asleep on their feet, their emaciated forms full of hunger that would not be satisfied and thirst that would not be quenched. Once great men, their souls were stolen by greed, and now they stood eternally damned. Another thing I could not fully control, though I knew how to get them to do what I wanted, at the very least. In the distance a spine-chilling moan echoed, perhaps someone had strayed too far from their home. I briefly wonder if the undead would have a meal this evening. No, I would have not had it this way, for what is a king without his people, and a land to rule over. Oh, I do not mind the fear, with it comes a certain measure of respect, and I could not imagine myself to be a beloved king, not after I killed His Majesty, who was so adored by his people. But at least I would have preferred a people thriving under my guiding hand than this empty ghost town.
As my attentions lingered on the town's drawbridge, my eyebrows drew down into a mild frown. Brilliant blue eyes filled with a blazing purity haunted me in the form of a green-clad phantom; a distant memory, but one so prominent, so integral to my thoughts. Who was the child? That night I had chased the Princess and her guardian from the castle he stood at the drawbridge. His eyes so piercing, so crystalline, and despite the purity that struck my sixth sense, there was such determination in the child's gaze. Our eyes had held for a moment, he did not glance away. He seemed so familiar. I had dreamt of him, those dreams had brought me great restlessness and even when they failed to come after our fated meeting, they held sway in my mind. There was something important about the child who dressed as a Kokiri, but was even then too physically mature to be a child of the forest. I could still feel his presence, despite not seeing the familiar child for nearly seven years. Seven years of tyranny. Seven years of being king. He was probably hiding in his home like everyone else, or perhaps he had been drained of life by the re-deads. Something about this thought made me pause. No, he wasn't dead, my sixth sense attested to that at least. I could not imagine such an untainted being, thrumming with sacred power, dead. Trying to do so brought a distressed air to my thoughts, and that alone disturbed me, never mind the near obsessive thoughts that surrounded the child. I felt... fated to meet him again in other circumstances. My eyes lifted to the sky as a large raven-thing swooped to the balcony's railing like a harbinger of great, terrible things to come. I felt excitement gnaw at my thoughts and my energies and interest piqued. The black beast had a message, and by the sinister lilt to its vile crooning, it had to be good.