Disclaimer: I am not cool enough to own my own franchise


Once upon a time, in the depths of Italy, there lived a princess. She was the last of three children to a king and queen who were much loved by the citizens of their kingdom. Her two older brothers were twins, a pair of feisty boys who seemed to always be in some kind of conflict, some childish war. The princess had not yet celebrated her fourth birthday before these childish acts of violence became truly dangerous. Their games had evolved from friendly competitions to throwing stones, boulders, knives.

The princes battled with growing ferocity every day and unbeknownst to them, their darling sister was a frequent witness. She would hide and watch with great curiosity as her brothers fought for titles that only existed in a child's mind. She was as smart as the two of them and as she watched, she studied. She would return to her room with a giddy delight, practicing her own throws and perfecting her aim with knives and forks stolen from the kitchen of their grand home. She learned through her observations and, boy, did she learn well.

She was not yet five years old when it happened, when her beloved brother Belphegor went on his bloody rampage, when he tore through the corridors of the castle like a murderous storm. He bore no mercy as he slaughtered every member of his family, every servant who had helped raise him, every guest who vacationed in its halls. Belphegor was a bloodied mess when he broke into her room, when he broke open the lock and barged in with a shrill peal of deranged laughter. The terrified princess screamed when her blankets were ripped from her form and her brother sang out her name.

Her wide hazel eyes were met with those of a bloody prince, one whose skin was painted red, whose golden hair was matted and stuck to his face with the crimson of his family's blood. She shrieked as this demented figure pulled a knife out of his pocket, a smile splitting his face as he grabbed onto her small shoulders, "Gotcha!" He laughed then, cooing as the sound faded off, "Aw, is the little princess scared?" he asked mockingly, the side of his knife skating against her cheek, "Are you frightened?" She nodded through her fear, her bottom lip quivering as he moved his knife away, "Good!"

The word echoed through the room and time seemed to slow as he brought down his knife against her tiny torso. She barely had time to scream before he took another go, dragging another deep slice through her abdomen. Blood welled up at a rapid rate, pooling around her small form to soak into her sheets. The sound of manic laughter and tearing flesh filled the room and all the young princess could do was cry out and hope for it all to end, for the brother she so admired to step back and leave her to die in peace. But Belphegor did not stop. No, when he tossed his knife away it was only to reach forward and press his bloodied fingers to her right eye, feeling the soft flesh give under the pressure of his fingertips. When she clenched her eye shut tightly the young prince laughed louder and used his other hand to pry her eye open. His younger sibling screeched, thrashing underneath him violently, but he was stronger. He kept her in place with his legs as he dug his fingers into her eye with obscene fascination. His fingertips brushed against her optic nerve and all at once he yanked his hand back, howling with laughter through her screams of pain as he stared at the bloodied hazel iris staring back at him from the palm of his hand.

When he looked away from the organ to his sister he hummed approvingly at her bloodied, convulsing form. It was art to him and he slid from her bed as her remaining eye began to roll back into her head, signaling an impending end.

She had stopped screaming, stopped writhing as her breathing slowed down and her pulse weakened. Every breath felt like she was inhaling glass and every beat of her heart felt like another dagger being pushed past her ribs. She was too young to understand what was happening, too young to understand why her blood felt so warm as it bubbled across her torso when she felt so, so cold.

Darkness was seeping into her vision and everything else seemed to be blurring together as if it were a watercolor painting. Blood seeped from the empty socket of her right eye to mirror the tears that still streamed steadily out of her left eye.

As the heavy burden of death settled over her small frame, Belphegor brushed her bloodied hair from her eyes and laughed once more.

"Goodnight, princess."


Oh no I rewrote this whole thing.

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