Good and bad...the same story overplayed throughout the times. Every day, the heroine saves the girl, and the bad guy goes away to some means. But at the end, none of that matters. The story continues to replay and replay.
Like some shitty track that's on an infinite repeat. The good wins, the bad wins, the good loses, and the bad loses. They're all the same, two sides of the same coin. Every flip gives a result. The result is only every two though. Good and bad…
In this world, there is a group...a group that doesn't play bad or good. They follow the rules yet break them, they kill yet protect, and most importantly...they're not good or bad.
They're neutral.
The room is black...so black it covers all the red paint. Fresh and old, the paint that's been coated a thousand times still doesn't show it's thick red shade. Only black.
A man sits at the head of a dining table, his form covered by the shadows that seem to cover his features. No, not hiding, more like hugging them. They love the man, for he finds comfort in the darkness. The only thing seen is the man's jet black hair and white porcelain skin. The skin glistens even when there is little light. It's a shame that the brightness belongs to one of such darkness.
"Sir, d-dinner is ready…" said a masked man, presumably the man's servant, given his attire.
"Splendid Griswold. You're doing great!" the dark man says. A smile protrudes from the shadows as if they make room for his pleasure.
"Ss-ir, I beg of you. I have a family. They will worry for me. My wife has fallen ill and may die with my presence."
The dark man suddenly changes tone. His smile of delight turns into one of annoyance; the shadows no longer dance around him. They try to run from him.
*glass shatters*
"...Griswold. I had high hopes for you. I put some effort into acquiring you. I brought you into my household and gave you a home. I gave you purpose. I gave you a job. I told you to forget your past existence and relish in the new. But it seems you've failed me." The dark man's eyes twitch, showing red slits that seem to pierce the inner soul. In his hand is a shard of glass, the remnants of a once pristine glass of champagne. The glass is now shattered and let in pieces around the man's chair.
"I-I didn't m-mean anything th-that would offend the k-king. I'm sorry, it won't happen ag-again." the presumed butler's face is now purple and sweating. His stature shows fear and helplessness. His knees shake, just barely holding him up.
"Is that so?" the dark man says with a twisted grin. "Well if that's the case then you're forgiven."
"T-thank you great king. I will be forever grateful!" the still presumed servant is now on all fours, giving his knees a much-needed break. His face is now filled with dreaded relief. He is thankful that he will not die today, yet still, lives in fear for the next.
"No need to thank me. It's my job to be charitable to my subjects." the dark king says.
The servant begins to get back on his still shaky legs.
"You're right my lord, absolu-"
"Now eat the glass!" the dark king interrupts. His face not full with forgiveness, but with the face of a feline. The face when a cat plays with a mouse, knowing it holds the keys to its life."
The servant is frozen, his face doesn't sweat but standstill and seems cold to the touch.
"Excuse m-me?" he asks.
"You heard what I said, Griswold. Eat. The. Glass." the dark king seems to be getting more agitated with the second.
"Maybe it's me, but I'm sure when I hand picked you I made sure you could speak English. Maybe I was wrong though, which means I made a mistake…" he pauses.
"...and mistakes must be corrected." the shadows suddenly stop running and began to sit still. As if a pet listening to their master.
"No my king! I-I am just surprised. It's n-not common to hear such a request." The man seems more fearful than ever.
"...a request? THAT WAS NOT A REQUEST BUT AN ORDER YOU REBELLIOUS SWINE! NOW DO AS IS SAY OR I'LL PUT YOUR HEAD ON THE PIKE THIS VERY SECOND! GO FOURTH, CHEW, AND SWALLOW THE DAMN GLASS!"
"N-no no great king. Please dd-d-don-n't go to such lengths. I'll d-do as you say immediately." The servant as fast as the eye can see begins to grovel on the ground and pick the small and large fragments from beneath the chairs that surround that dark king. Clearly, becoming even more fearful that previously is possible. The king's aura still not showing any change in attitude.
As the servant begin to chew that glass, with each crunch, followed with a wet choke of crimson. The only reason the blood did not leave his throat was due to the fact that his shivering hands prevented the blood from just leaving the embrace of his tortured throat.
From this angle, the moonlight gleams one ray from a nearby window onto the poor servant to show his true form. A shattered man, someone once healthy and happy now broken down and beaten. His body is bruised from harsh beatings; his skin shows gashes from claws. Deep scars cover his face and appendages. His skin is the same shade as his now shown aged hair from the lack of light.
As the broken slave continues to chew, he bumps into a chair. Not the king's (thank the heavens) but the chair to his left. A bony foot touches his neck, and the slave immediately recoils away from it's touch.
"Griswold, don't bother the guests. They don't have as much patience as I do." the King says with a warning voice.
"Y-yes my king. I'm s-sorry sir." the slave says only to hear no reply from the esteemed guest. The guest's face is not shown but covered by the shadows just as well as the king. But they do not sit in fear or pleasure, but as if they belong there. A ray of moonlight shines through the cracked window.
What's shown is no guest but a dead relic. A skeleton rotting in a chair, it's stench filling the air. It's strange that they now are now detected. The slave feels a movement in his throat and does everything to prevent that feeling from going any further. While he does this, his mind seems to be trying to bring something to light, but he cannot remember.
The moonlight doesn't stop shining. It keeps showing the other many chairs. 13 chairs in total. All but filled with long gone bodies. They all seem to be wearing warrior or noble wear. Each seeming to be from different times and lands. They're jaws drop as if fearful in their final moments, but at the same time smile as the cold embrace of death had welcomed them.
A sudden shock erupts from the slave. Something feels strange. His brain is being overloaded with memories and forgotten thoughts. While his brain processes this overflow he asks "How long have I been here my king?"
The dark king who previously held a smile of pleasure suddenly brought up a pained face with a twitch of sadness. "Ahhh so you're starting to figure it out old timer. You've been here for so long. Probably the longest out of all my companions."
The slave stutters "I-my name is William Griswold. I have a wife...Dianne Griswold. She's sick, and I must tend to her. I have two beautiful children named Sarah and Sidney. I must get to them." The man lets out a pained cry. His bones begin to give out. His eyes show tears not of fear, but sadness.
"Where are my children? Where is my wife? How long have I been here?"
The dark king let's out a sigh and says "You've been here for 60 years, you're wife died three nights after I brought you in. You're daughter grew up, got married to a noble, and lived to have five children.
"And my son?" the broken man asked with a fearful and pained voice.
"After his father disappeared and his mother died, he was left to watch for his sister. After she had grown up, he served the Imperial Military and became a high ranking soldier. With his power and education, he scouted the lands for his long left father. No one could find the most single clue. He eventually came across someone...a certain snitch" The dark king's lips twitched to make a disgusted growl for a mere second.
"After that, he eventually found a grand palace that held his father captive. With his power, knowledge, and cunning he stood against the great monster that took his dear father." His voice was becoming bored as if said before and repeated.
"A-and?" the broken slave asked. Afraid he may already know the answer.
"He slew the monster." the king growled.
"Than-"
"Just kidding. He died a painful and tragic death and met his end."
The slave stood speechless, his voice dying of all hope. His son died, he went through so much and came for him. He wasted his life on a father long gone. He cried on the inside yet spoke nothing. It felt familiar. He knew he should be angry, but all he felt was silence. Wait….
"Where does his body lie my great king?" the broken servant trembled out.
"In the last chair. The youngest of them all. It's a shame really. He was a great opponent and fought to his last breath." the King said without the slightest show of sadness, but instead pleasure. As if taking happiness from memory and reliving it.
The man stopped thinking altogether and croaked out one phrase.
"He's dead, but not by your hands."
The king showed a face of sadness and happiness, sensing something wrong with the servant. Something he knew would come. This has happened before.
"No, you killed him. I had you do while he laid out of breath. I told you...he fought till his last breath." the king's voice twisted into an inhuman tone, not a yell or shout, but something ungodly.
That was the last straw for the servant. His old body had taken the last bit of damage it could take. His brain turned and screamed out of pain. His body began convulsing. His heart was giving out. His eyes began to water and his face twisted in pain.
As he rolled onto the ground, blood spat from his mouth, and glass shards took up residence on the carpet once again. He looked up to the moon, and as death approached, something tugged at his body.
He didn't see a white light, but a cold hand. Cold, yet warm. It gave comfort and presented peace. Something he long forgot. Like a moth drawn to the light in the dark, he took grabbed the hand.
As the body laid there, it's eyes rolled back and lost any spark of light left. His body relieved itself and left all traces of living behind.
After the broken man's death, one last word escaped from his mouth. Shaky yet standing.
"Monster."
The king smiled. "Yes my old friend, monster. I've had to keep bring you back so many times. Like a broken record needing repairs, I can only keep you playing for so long. You've skipped too many times now."
"You've served me well, now let death serve you with content." the King says. Something a good friend would say to another at a funeral.
The king sits...his hall, his dinning room empty of all sound. He lies alone once again…
But not for long.
"Gentlemen, I must excuse myself. It seems there is a job opening that must be filled. Have a good day." he said to a room that was now once again empty.
And with one breath from the wind, the king was gone. His shadows left in room yet his form no longer present. He left once again like before. And just like before that. And before that.
As the king left his palace, walking through a sect of dead and grim trees, he muttered one thing under his breath.
"Achelois, why must you interfere with my plans. Do you wish for death like the others? I can provide so if be.
With that said, all moonlight suddenly retracted from the area and left no trace. The moon hid behind dark clouds, somehow fearful.
"I am not a man, I'm not a monster, and I am no god."
"I am a Mad King."
Authors Notes: So that was my first chapter for a story I've thought about for along time. I don't know if it's good. I've been on this site for quite a while and it has inspired me in many ways. This story and set of characters and future characters are mainly based off of Fairy Tail. I ask for any tips or advice, especially since I wrote this in the middle of the night and haven't slept yet but who cares it's summer XD.