-Chapter One: Hold on for a minute ('cause I believe that we can fix this over time)-

The sun rippled across the ground, its warm dapples making everything bright against the darker shadows contrasting it. You would know where you are in such a place, since the temperature changed drastically once you made it into the sun. That's why Bad preferred to stay in the comforting shade. He was convinced he'd melt if he stayed out in the burning rays for too long.

He had never been known to get out much. Well, given that he was unwelcome everywhere he turned. So what if he was a demon? Humans never understood when he tried to explain his actions.

It wasn't like he was off murdering innocent people just for the fun of it. That was actually the opposite of what he aimed to do. If people would just LISTEN… but he gave up long ago. You can't reason with humans. You just can't.

He tucked a hand into his pouch, feeling his claws grasp something cool and welcoming. But his heart ached at the feeling. He can't do this anymore, not without him. But what he had in his hand was the only thing left of him.

Will he forgive me if I do it?

Will he remember?

If he doesn't, will I be able to take that?

Bad growled, letting go of the edged object. Immediately the worrying thoughts disappeared. Maybe it was for the best.

~--~

It was a cold morning in December. Snow fluffed up the ground and got in everyone's boots. Nobody except whiny women seemed to care about it though. Kids silenced them with snowballs to the face. The women screamed, clawing at their eyes and cheeks like the snow would make their faces melt off.

Well, it would ruin their complexion, but really, nobody cared. Again, except for the ladies themselves.

Skeppy couldn't believe that his dad was telling him that one day he would have to marry such a pitiful and whiny girl. They seemed so desperate, which disgusted him, but also so proud of whatever frilly dress they had paid thousands of silvers for from their personal dress - maker or whatever you call them.

Skeppy wasn't into that. He wasn't into ANY of that stuff. It was like being a prince was his lowest but also only choice for life.

He huffed in amusement, still watching the women yell at the children, who were laughing so hard he was afraid they would slip and fall on the icy ground. Somehow they stayed upright though. Skeppy knew he wouldn't survive a tumble. Stupid fluffy life.

He stepped back from his window, tearing his hands away from the cold stone. It felt oddly unnatural, like letting go meant getting lost in the pristine life of the castle again.

At this point, he really needed to get outside. Touch some grass. Except all the grass was covered by snow.

He tucked his diamond - blue hood farther around his shoulders, pinning the golden clasp together. He sticked with pretty normal clothes, not caring about royal crowns and all of that dumb stuff.

And what if he tried to get out? He knew if he did, his father would drag him back in like some disobedient child, or the guards would notice and goad him into coming back. It was like he was under constant surveillance, which he was.

This is what it's like being royalty. Live your life always being watched and judged, then eat, sleep, drink, and file taxes for the people.

BORING.

Skeppy inwardly rolled his eyes. Where was the excitement he always read in the stories? The quests, the sacrifices? (Not that he wanted someone to die or something.) The feasts, the noble adventures? None of that happened. They just sit in their boring old castle and file taxes some more. Hooray.

He pushed open the hard wooden door, his bare feet warmed by the heated floors. Of course a castle has heated floors. Castles have everything.

He made his way down the hall, finally landing on a soft velvet carpet. The floor was sort of rough, scuffed up by the guard's iron boots. This often resulted in it getting sanded every day, or just having to deal with barefoot princes coming crying to their daddy because they got a splinter in their heel.

But he still refused to wear shoes.

They just seemed like confines for your feet. Why would you want that? Why would you not want to feel the grass between your toes, or the shocking intensity of a piercing rock? Overall, just having no shoes would gain a better connection with the world around you, and that's exactly what Skeppy wanted.

He followed the carpet farther down the hall, then split off of it into another room. Anybody who doesn't live here every single second would easily get lost here. It was like a giant maze for commoners. And only royalty had the map.

He knocked on the hard metal bolting the door to the wall to signify his presence. The sound resonated through the filled room, considering it was so large. A figure was bent over a desk filled to the rim with papers, stacked high. Books littered the ground near his feet, some open wide, some closed, some even with pages ripped out.

The figure raised his head with the sound, smiling when he met Skeppy's gaze. "Zak," he said happily. Skeppy dipped his head respectably. "I'm Skeppy, dad." He had never enjoyed being called by his actual name. His other name was more…. yeah.

"That's right." the king replied, looking a bit distracted as he turned his attention back to the papers in front of him. Skeppy figured he'd forget the next day again.

Skeppy cleared his throat. "I wanna go outside." His father raised his head again, eyes misted. "Son…"

Skeppy ploughed on. "I've been stuck in this hell - spawn for as long as I can remember, and I want to go outside. I want to see nature, not just read about it. I want to go on adventures. You can't keep me here forever." he added harshly.

That was a mistake.

The king stood up, visibly getting angrier. "Zak. You cannot, and will not, go outside."

Skeppy winced.

"You know that. Now go back to your room. You'll survive."

Skeppy ducked his head, sliding his feet along the floor like a little kid as he slunk out of the room. He heard a disappointed sigh, and a plop, as his father sat back down. He could practically imagine him rubbing his temples tiredly, as he always does when Skeppy asks the question every couple of months.

As soon as Skeppy found his way back to his room, he hid under his covers and screamed into his pillow. After a bit he quieted down. No use pitching a fit. This happens every time. And he wasn't a kid anymore! He was sixteen! Why did he keep acting like a child?

He smoothed his cape and stood up, acting like nothing happened even though he was sure his face was red from screaming so much. Fine. If his dad wasn't going to listen to reason, then he'll go do the next best thing. He'll visit the prisoners.

He once again followed the velvety carpet down the hall, passing his father's paper - filled room. He saluted the guards, which always seemed to make them annoyed for whatever reason, even when he was passing by like nothing was happening. Which was true. He absolutely had no restrictions from visiting the dungeons.

He knew where he was even when he didn't look up. The cold stone sent his feet skittering on the floor, and the only light was from the sconces hanging dangerously on the wall. It seemed like his father didn't want to waste his "good fortune" on "troublemakers".

Skeppy raised his eyes as he found himself crawling deeper and deeper into the gradually darkening hallway. The sconces flickered. Skeppy felt a cold shiver go down his spine.

He's been here before. Why was he making such a big deal out of this visit?

A screech split the air beside him, and he jumped. A prisoner banged their whole body against the bars, making dust rain down from their bases on the ceiling. The prisoner reached through the gaps in the bars, hand grasping to take anything, touch anything. Skeppy backed away, pressing his back against the cobblestone.

It's just a "troublemaker." he thought to himself, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The prisoner slunk back, hidden by shadows once again. But the prince could still hear their raspy breathing.

The air here was horrible.

He kept on walking, ignoring the pleading comments or plain random wails. He kept his space away from the prisoners, occasionally scraping his shoulder on the rough wall. It left nothing more than a mark against his clothes, which was good. He wasn't quite sure how his father would react if he figured out he went to the dungeons and came back with scratches. Though he still might be mad about him ruining his "beautiful, stunning, marvellous body coverage wear".

He paused, shivering. The feeling creeped down his spine again, just like it did when he first arrived here. He looked around, as if he could find the source. A breeze perhaps?

But they were deep underground. There couldn't possibly be a breeze.

He turned back to face front and just about jumped out of his feet. One, he had almost smacked into a cell. Two, standing behind the bars were the most intense white eyes he had ever seen in his life. And he hasn't seen many.

The eyes had no pupil, nothing to quite indicate where the beholder was looking. But matching up with Skeppy's feeling of being watched, he was pretty sure the prisoner was staring at him.

Their eyes locked. He couldn't look away. The light from the sconces just barely danced in the creature's eyes, given they were pretty far from any other light.

Skeppy finally snapped back to reality, blinking. The beholder backed away a bit, eyes now half - hidden by shadows. Where was his face? "Hello."

Skeppy's mouth opened and closed like a fish before he realised the figure had addressed him. "H-Hi." he stammered.

"What's your name?" the figure asked, and Skeppy could hear rustling, but he didn't see any movement.

Skeppy stepped forward a bit, pressing the palms of his hands against the smooth bars. "Skeppy." he whispered, like it was a secret. The figure closed their eyes, then opened them a bit. Skeppy assumed the other had nodded.

"That's a wonderful name." the figure complimented, sounding faintly happy. "My name is BadBoyHalo, but you can call me Bad."