Our story starts in a forgotten kingdom, not even remembered in myth or legend. Arya was a prosperous land blessed with a just king and queen. Love ruled the land. The only sadness was that of the king and his wife. They had no heir. Then on one of the happiest days for Arya, the queen gave birth to a son. The whole kingdom was overjoyed, but their happiness was tempered with sorrow. During the night the queen died. The kingdom mourned her.
Eighteen years later Arya celebrated the birthday of its prince. The king had raised his son alone and while morning his wife, he had spoiled the boy. The young prince grew proud and selfish. By the boy's tenth birthday everyone, even his father, feared him. No one ever told him. On the boy's eighteenth birthday the king named his son his heir. The boy became a man.
Soon the king died and the prince was named king. He was arrogant and cruel. He warred with his neighboring countries. He took everything from his people and wasted it. It wasn't long before the treasure was gone and the people's loyalty spent. Even with armies pressing against the kingdom the king would not repent. Instead he turned to a young, beautiful witch to save him.
"I will," she replied, "but here is my price. I will assist you in all things. You will be the richest, most envied king. One day I will ask you for a favor. You must grant it."
The price was nothing in the king's eyes. He agreed readily. As the words left his mouth the treasury filled. The enemy armies vanished. The witch's power fed the young king's lust and arrogance. The people cowered, waiting for the inevitable doom.
Years passed and the king forgot his promise. On the eve of his twenty-fifth birthday the witch came to him.
"Lord King, my sister is sick and dying. Let me go to her. I will return."
The young king laughed at her and denied her request. That afternoon she returned to the throne room. She stood before the king.
"Lord King, my sister is sick and dying. Let me go to her. I will return."
Again he denied her. He sent her away, but that evening she returned and made her request a third time. The king was enraged.
Woman, twice you have asked me and twice I have refused. Why do you think my answer will change? Be gone from here back to your rooms before I lock you in the tower for the rest of your miserable life."
Silence then, like the calm before the storm; that is just what it was. The sound started softly, barely audible and grew louder. A smile crinkled the witch's features. Soon she was laughing gleefully for all to hear.
"Your heart is black," she told him. "Now I curse you. You made a promise and you broke it. Now your appearance shall be hideous. You shall look as ugly as your heart and you shall do so forever. I take your kingdom and your power. Your wealth you may keep. It is yours to draw on whenever you like, but you shall live forever."
For a moment the king's pride faltered and he knelt before the woman.
"I repent. I beg you, forgive me and go in peace."
Her smile was poisonous.
"Oh no, your majesty. I don't want to. You see, I am the opposite of you; immortal and beautiful. You cannot break my curse anyway. We are who we are. Besides, your heart has not changed. You are just as selfish as ever."
Even as she strode from the room the king began to change.
So it was that Arya faded. The king wandered the world. In every age he had wealth, but nothing else. He received nothing but hatred from the people. He could not die, though he had tried. Only his four servants, assigned to him by the witch, remained with him for they too were cursed.
