Hey everyone! Uh... my other story? I dun know what you're talking about... Nope. -shifty eyes-

I am Zeon Bell. I am fifteen years old. I am the Prince of Demons.

My father, the king, has ruled alone for almost ten years. That's because my mother died of an illness when I was merely five years old. The doctors said that it was a progressive illness, one that she didn't just wake up one day and have. It had plagued her her entire life, and she had died singing me to sleep that cold, stormy night ten years ago. Her voice was comforting, and I fell into slumber as my mother's last few moments on this earth slipped down the hourglass. There was nothing I, or anyone else, could have done to save her. The illness had progressed too much, and it does nothing to worry and make oneself sickly and tired over something that was unchangable, as some things in this world so rightfully were.

But there were even more things that could be changed. I couldn't stop myself from aging, maturing, and I certainly couldn't have stopped the sun in the sky. I was aging, that meant that the 'Time of Reckoning' as the assistants in the palace so liked to call it, was upon me. I had to choose a bride. My father was still young with much kick, and as his only son, it was my job to--eventually--assume the throne in his place. To assure that I did not rule alone, I was to choose a woman--any woman--from any town and bring her back to the castle for the ceremony.

None of the princesses interested me. They were fascinated by my war stories, entranced by my silver tresses that touched my shoulders with the slightest of curls. They admired my purple eyes that shone in the slightest of light and my pale skin. They seemed to drool over the toned muscles of almost fourteen years' toil and my keen sense of style. Not onse did they think about my intellect, nor did they care to know anything about my past that did not deal with my triumphs in war. They wished my no condolences for the death of my mother, the memory of such still fresh in my mind. If anyone spoke her name the scab would be picked at and must be pulled, and the bruised skin must be allowed to heal. They did not care for the large library in the castle, filled with the most interesting of tombs--they cared more about the largeness of the bedrooms and how many paintings hang in the main hall. They cared about how many slaves and sevants we owned. They were superficial, they all were, and the thought that I had no choice but to be with one of them for the rest of my life infuriated me. With this it meant that I leave the fate of my people in the hands of someone who would tear down hospitals and orphanages for malls.

In my younger years I would have found something like that exciting. Defeating the weak to achieve something better for myself. But now, after all those years of being wrong, I was set straight by his mother's death. She had said that she had to die to attone for all the horrible things I had done in the mere first five years of my life. Before, some would say, I had even truly lived, I learned that every horrible thing had to be attoned for. I had hurt, pillaged, and killed, and my mother was turned cold like stone and ripped from my tiny hands. Next would be my father, or maybe even me. I attoned myself. No one more would be taken from me. I would not allow it to happen.

Contrary to popular belief, there are many Princes of Demons. As are there Princesses. The world is divided up into kingdoms in which each royal family is the "Ruler of Demons." They have their own customes and their own rules, and one does not impose their own beliefs upon the monarchies of the other kingdoms. That is an unwise thing to do if one wishes to avoid war. So being as polite as I could, I excused myself from the party to sit out on the balcony.

It was a cold night. Thick snowflakes were falling down all around them, falling heavily onto the ground, coating it with the stuff. Reycom, the Prince of Demons for Aisu was taking a red-headed girl for a skate on the ice. While he looked perfectly comfortable in his tee-shirt and short, she was bundled up heavily and was still shivering. He held the red-head close as the skated along the frozen surface of the lake. She seemed to be enjoying herself, even though Reycom was doing tricks that would scare anyone else, it seemed clear that she fully trusted the ice demon. They slowed to a stop and kissed under a tree heavy with snow that twinkled in the moonlight. They separated from the sensual kiss, and a heavy pile of snow fell on the two. They both laughed and made their way back to the party.

I shivered and pulled my coat about me more. I could feel the warmth of their relationship. How close they were to one another and how much they trusted each other, and how faithful they were to each other. To the contrary of what so many relationships were like in many movies and books, a simmering pool of hormones, mistrust and foul relationships, what Reycom and the red-head displayed was something true, something sweet, something... desirable.

"Excuse me Zeon-kun... is this seat taken?"

"No, take it." I responded bluntly, almost rudely. Whomever it was was not put off by my coldness at all and plopped down into the seat. I heard them breathing on their hand and rubbing them together, and soon they became quiet. I took this as an opportunity to look at whomever had taken the seat. It was boy around my age, with short golden locks. His eyes were an intriguing yellow color, and his skin was beautifully tanned. Unlike me, the moonlight didn't suit him too much. He looked like one whom it was best to see in the light of day. Even now however, I could see that he was not wearing royal colors or fabulous fabrics, but was instead donned in the servents' attire for a relatively small kingdom. He had what it took to be a Prince, in my own opinion. "Are you a servant?" I asked.

The boy nodded, and rubbed himself to keep warm. "Did you hear? Your father is looking to marry my mistress."

My head snapped around to the blond so quickly that pain wracked me. I tried to ignore it as I stared down the boy. What nonsense was he speaking? My father would not--could not remarry. "What did you say, cretin?" I asked, my voice growing bitterly sharp and angry. The servant boy quivered from the intensity of my words. It was wrong for me to take out my anger on him. My anger, frustration, and confusion.

"I'm sorry, Zeon-dono, but my mistress... her husband died of gangrene not very long ago, and your father has sent word that he would like her hand in ma--"

"You lie." I said, the two simple words coming out in an unruly jumble. My father would not find another wife. My mother was his wife in life and in death, and he would never cheat on her. My nostrils flared and I felt nothing but rage towards the boy. I stormed back into the warm castle flexing my fingers. He was lying. My father was an honorable man. He honored the love that he and my mother had shared. Her honored the being--me--that had been spawned from their love. And her honored my mother more than anything else. He loved her, he always had and always will, which is why that cretin had to be lying. My father would not remarry, his honor would not allow it! And neither would I.

I awoke the next morning to the smiling face of Koruru. She had been my personal servant since I was quite young, so I considered her to be part of my family--like a sister. She was almost a full three years older than me, and under my insistence, my father was willing to pay for her wedding. It was no secret that she and Hyde from the kingdom over fancied each other. Hyde cam over a couple times a week just so they could sit outside and talk. Rumors around the castle go that they do much more than talk, and that Hyde has wandering hands and talented lips. I had always thought that Koruru was innocent, but maybe that was the thing. Maybe her innocence is what made you want to kiss her, and touch her.

She jolted me out of my thoughts by saying that my father was awaiting me downstairs for breakfast. Ever since mom died we eat breakfast together. It was a great time of day to talk, when you have no stress of the day on your shoulders and your mind is still waking up, so your lips for the questions wihtout a second thought. According to him, breakfast time was, "the most truthful time of the day." That's why I planned to get answers--real answers--right now.

I splashed cold water on my face. I needed to be aware. I hated to ruin the limber, unworried and unrushed time of the day with my blunt and stark awareness of the questions being asked and the answers that I gave, but this was important. If that servant was correct, then I may have far overestimated my father's nobility. If that cretin was correct... then... I'd have something else to atone for.

Our dining hall was a rectangular room--I'm not exactly sure of the measurments, since how large the room was was never of any consequence to me. Koruru sometimes had to assist me to my seat since I was a little uncoordinated in the mornings, but she seemed quite surprised that I could easily find my way to my chair after wishing my own groggy father good morning in my crispest voice. He said good morning in a messily put-together way (sounded more like, "g'budorni). I slipped into my chair beneath one of the high stained glass windows. Sunlight poured out of it and illuminated the food choices for today. Buttered buscuits and soft fluffy pancakes. Crunchy waffles overflowing with sweet-smelling golden syrup beside a plateful of sliced ham and turkey, smoked of course, juices causing the meat to smell uncharacteristically good. Golden brown bread slices sat placidly on a plate, and fruits--apples, oranges, kiwis, pomogranates, grapes, strawberries, rasberries, and blueberries--overflowing a nearby bowl. The sights and smells assailed me. But I had to be strong and ask the question.

"Father, at the party yesterday, one of Queen Eduron's servants told me something most... curious," I began, helping myself to a warm buscuit.

"Did they?" He sounded as though he truly did not care. My frantic heartbeat began to calm down, and I almost sneered at the thought that I even at one point believed a word of the bull that servant was trying to feed to me.

"They were saying that you had proposed to Queen Eduron. Quite a laugh, no?" I said. My father chewed his food before replying.

"Oh dear... THAT'S not how I wanted you to find out..."

My face became clammy. It was true. My stomach tied itself in a knot and I stood up so abruptly the chair clattered as it fell against the floor. I didn't give him a chance to explain. He couldn't explain any of this to me anymore. Why did I have to find out from a servent? Because my father knew I would react like this. He knew me too well. He knew that I would protest and hate it and hate him and his new wife and everything to do with her. However, I felt a sort of thankfulness towards the servant that had informed me. My father was shouting after me. I tuned him out. He had nothing to say to me--nothing at all. I went into my room and slammed the door shut, locked it, and forced myself to fall asleep. My life had become something I must escape from. Something I had to run from. I would not let this beast catch me.

Never.

Well... Zeon is acting like quite a big baby, isn't he?

Review? Please?