This is my first CV fic. Deal. None of this is mine, of course, otherwise it would be on fictionpress. Enjoy, or not, as you wish.

The sun has always been my enemy, since before I can remember. When I was young, any time spent in the sun's light rendered me brilliant red, and so I learned to avoid it. Not an easy task when one lives in a desert. I spent most of my childhood covered in layers of felt, hiding in the tent with a peeling nose. No wonder I learned to hate the sun, is it?

It was a blessing for me, therefore, when Mother fell from her horse. All I knew at the time was that we were leaving the vast desert and my nose could finally heal. I was too young to understand why Mother couldn't see me, why Father snapped at me all the time, why the servants all told me to be quite. It was only when they placed Mother on the pyre and set the torch to the wood that I began to understand what 'death' was. It meant stillness, pallor, chill. It meant no more hugs, no kisses, no laughter, and no love. It was the end of childhood.

Father, though a younger son of the duke, still managed to inherit something when the lord died. He re-married shortly after that, and I was shunted to the shadows, where, to be honest, I was perfectly happy. I was not made to be in the public eye and I knew it. I was what you might know as an albino, my skin as pale as Mother's corpse, and hair to match. Add light rose eyes, a reputation much in tatters due to my enforced night life, and perhaps you can understand why I was glad to fade into the shadows.

As I grew, however, I began to realize that my happiness could not last. I was, after all, Father's eldest son, and therefore next to inherit. Never mind that I didn't want the title, blood was blood. My stepmother knew this as well as I, and shared my liking for the situation. Like all good mothers, she wanted her own son to rule. I was nearing twenty springs when Father fell sick and his caring wife began to make her wishes known.

I wanted nothing much more then to be allowed to live my life in peace, and I knew that was not possible in Father's house. I had been something of a scholar, having had nothing better to do during the long nights of my life, and so I temporarily returned to the pastime. And in the course of my studies, I found, as hoped, an answer to my problem.

In a book I had copied myself, written from the stories a singer had told when I was new to this land, there was mention of a 'Forest of Eternal Night'. A fanciful tale, surely, told to gullible children, but when I checked the location of the forest against a map, I found a blank space liberally sprinkled with warnings of devils and demons. That didn't bother me; the map said the same of my birthplace.

Father died in the evening, as fortuitous as if he knew my plan and did what he could to aid me. I paid my respects at his deathbed, accepting his blessings as a dutiful son, and in truth I did grieve his passing. But there was no time for mourning; if I did not leave, and soon, there would shortly be another death in this house. I dressed myself in dark colours, both in respect for the dead, and practicality. And then, under cover of the half-moon, I slipped from my house, leaving my signet ring and all else to enable my stepmother to claim my house and title for her own son. I was off to the Forest of Eternal Night.

If you review, I'll keep this up. If not... don't go there, k? K.