A/N: Hello! I hope you don't mind this random little foray into trying to create a backstory for a certain princess curled Overlord. It was just something I wanted to do for the hell of it, and I hope you'll enjoy! I'm not sure how long this will go for, but let's both enjoy the ride. XD
Anyway, to get the disclaimers out of the way, I own neither Disgaea nor the characters, nor anything I might reference or parody in here. At most I own an OC or two and even they're heavily based off of stuff in Disgaea. On with the show!
Also, many apologies for formatting issues. I tried to make it as readable as possible, but I had some serious issues with the document editor. Let me know if it's too much of a hassle to read and I'll either try again or try to fix things up in future chapters!
Disgaea: History of Darkness
Chapter 1: The Eccentric Prince
Far beyond this world exists a world of chaos and darkness. In this world populated by demons, the Netherworld, only the law of survival reigns supreme.
Separated from the Netherworld for as long as either world can remember, there also exists a world of light and harmony. In this world of angels, Celestia, it is law and order that reigns.
One day, long, long ago, two curious individuals from these realms crossed paths. The journey they would undertake would be forgotten by all, but its legacy would reshape the two worlds for ages to come…
While the Netherworld could never said to be completely quiet—what with the constant scuffles, arguments, parties, and other such noisy activities—the Overlord's Castle had at least started out comparatively so. But within the dim firelit halls, stirrings of gossip centered around an argument set the air humming, and curious eyes glanced every once in awhile in the direction of the throne room.
Suddenly a loud scream could be heard in every hall of the castle, turning any heads not already pointed that direction toward the throne. Almost immediately, the more seasoned vassals dove behind any large, sturdy object they could find and clung to it for dear life. The poor souls who either didn't know what to expect next or weren't fast enough to get their hands on anything found themselves at mercy to the great gust of wind that tore through the hall, knocking over any items that weren't nailed down (and some that were), sending various objects of varying sharpness flying through the air, and launching several prinnies off to an explosive fate. Amongst the chaos, if one were to listen closely past the sound of rushing wind, they might be able to hear a young voice shout "THAT IS NOT FAIR!"
The end of the young prince's protest also marked the end of the gale, and the vassals who had been lucky enough to remain inside the castle took a moment to regain their bearings before setting about to cleaning up. Every one of them seemed to let out a long-suffering sigh all at the same time. They had become used to his outbursts by now—he was at a rather rebellious age, after all—but they wished the prince would keep a closer eye on his power. His youth and… eccentricities were no excuse, and frankly they weren't paid enough to deal with this.
Krichevskoy, crown prince of the Netherworld, sat on his bed in a huff, his eyes, burning with righteous indignation, boring holes in the wall. Royalty or not, his parents had no right to decide what he could and could not read. His preferences in literature, though they were far from what most demons would consider "healthy" or "normal," were quite frankly none of their business. And why should he have to change simply because someone else said so? He was the crown prince, the heir to the throne. He had every right to read what he pleased.
"Prince," a voice from the corner of the room cautiously spoke up. "Aren't you… overreacting a little?"
"Absolutely not!" came the immediate reply. Krichevskoy hopped back to his feet and faced the spear in the corner, stubborn scowl set firmly in place. "They took every last one, Longinus! Tore them from me without even a second to listen to what I had to say! Do you have any idea how difficult some of them were to acquire? There were a few straight from the human worlds!"
One might find the idea of holding a conversation with a spear ridiculous (and few would deny the image to be a little strange), but Longinus was no ordinary spear. Imbued with ancient magic of an origin no one could remember, Longinus was wise and old and often the one who, as Krichevskoy's weapon-of-choice, was usually the one tasked with talking the prince out of many of his more… fanciful ideas. The entire castle owed a debt to Longinus for talking him out of redecorating the castle to incorporate a rose motif.
"Exactly how much of your allowance were you spending on these books, my lord?"
If Krichevskoy heard Longinus's question at all, he made no move to acknowledge it. "Do I not have a say in what is to be done with my property? This is an injustice! An absolute injustice!"
Longinus once again attempted to talk sense into his charge. "Prince," he began, a little louder this time to attract Krichevskoy's attention, "you cannot expect there to have been no outcry whatsoever once they discovered what it was you were reading."
"It, It does not matter whether there would have been outcry or not! There should not have been!" Krichevskoy tried to argue, stumbling over his words a little. "There is nothing wrong with enjoying—"
"You are a demon! And the next in line for the throne, at that! For the crown prince of the Netherworld to be reading something as vile as romance novels is nothing short of reprehensible!"
Krichevskoy tried to hide a wince and for a few seconds his mouth opened and closed as he tried to come up with a retort. Unfortunately, there was little arguing with that. He was a demon. Demons did not love or hold close friends or immerse themselves in worlds of romance. They fought, brought bloodshed, lied, cheated, paid evil unto good and evil alike and if they read, they read stories about those sorts of vile things. And yet… And yet it was all so uncouth! While Krichevskoy received the same jolt of energy out of a good battle as anyone else, there was a certain poetry to it all—a performance! A flair!—that most demon literature simply could not portray. And beyond that, the way the characters in his books interacted: what they said, what they did, how they went about life… It was difficult to put into words! But there was something that spoke to him, something that called like a beacon in the darkness right to the very depths of his heart!
A part of him even wanted to become that gentleman. The one in the stories who attracted the gaze of every woman in the room, the sort of man who could say the right thing to win over whomever he wished. What charisma they had!
But now there would be no more gentlemen. There would be no more tales of intrigue and desire. No more days spent hidden away, drinking in every detail and every word…
Krichevskoy balled his hands into shaky fists. "Why?" he finally blurted out. "Why is it reprehensible?" He pointed a finger at Longinus with a flourish. "Do not tell me it is only because I am a demon. That is an excuse! What does it matter? I am the crown prince. I have authority as well, do I not? I am capable of making my own decisions, am I not? What do my tastes have to do with how I will rule? Why is it such a crime?"
Longinus readied himself to interrupt, but the prince fell silent before he could say a word. He thought he should say something, but there were no words to be said when Krichevskoy was in such a state. Really, that boy could be quite stubborn.
All of a sudden, Krichevskoy straightened, a certain spark in his eyes. His indignation had been shoved to the side for now and his scowl had transformed into a faint, mischievous smirk. "Longinus."
"…Yes, my lord?" Something about the way Krichevskoy had said that worried him.
"I have decided to take a trip outside the castle."
Longinus gave as much of a start as something lacking a proper body could, and wobbled. "My lord, you know you are-!"
"Forbidden from leaving without supervision? I am aware of that." Amusement bled into every word Krichevskoy spoke. "But I am entitled to repay an injustice with disobedience, am I not? If I cannot read what I want, then I shall do something else that I want."
"Even for a demon, I don't think that qualifies as entitlement…"
But Krichevskoy wasn't listening. He was already tearing through his closet and dresser, searching for something only he knew. As the seconds ticked past, both his determination and frustration grew. Eventually his gaze turned to his bed and the demon stood stock still, the corners of his mouth turning downward into a grimace. A terrible decision needed to be made. It would be painful, but if he was to make his grand escape, it would be necessary. Krichevskoy bit his lip and pulled back the luxurious comforter, exposing the black silk sheets beneath.
A black, tattered cloak fluttered behind a small figure as he weaved through the streets of the town behind the castle. Beneath the hood, sharp, white teeth gleamed in the light shining from the Earth above, and the cloaked boy's head whipped from side to side, taking in as many of the sights as he could.
"Prince," Longinus whispered, cautiously opening an eye to look around. Krichevskoy had insisted on taking Longinus with him out into town. He had no idea what to expect, and it was always better to be armed for the best advantage against one's enemies. Longinus still objected to Krichevskoy's excursion even now, but he was at least willing to accompany the Prince. All the better to keep an eye on him. "May I ask again why you felt the need to wear your bed sheets into the streets like this?"
Indeed the cloak Krichevskoy wore around his shoulders had been hastily constructed from the very sheets on his bed, the ends ripped and torn by hand and scissors in a way as aesthetically pleasing as possible by amateur hands. "That is simply the way it is done," the prince responded. "Stealing away in a hooded cloak by dead of night… There is no other way."
Longinus could think of several ways. "Stealing away" from the castle had been fairly simple. Many of the vassals were still too busy cleaning up after the outburst from earlier that day and plenty more just didn't seem to care. Sometimes one had to wonder if they would even make an attempt to stop an assassin from simply waltzing in the doors, even if the individual were to be completely frank about his or her intentions.
"And just what is it that you plan to accomplish?"
"I want to see the town," came Krichevskoy's reply, sounding a little distant. "I wish to know what it was that they wanted to hide from me so much." He never had understood why his parents wouldn't let him outside the castle walls without an escort. It was strange. He understood why they would do it when he was younger, but it seemed almost as though there was more of an entourage now as there was then. And yet Krichevskoy hadn't heard anything about discontent among the masses. Surely something would have come up between the vassals in the castle if that were the case.
But whatever the cause may have been, it didn't matter now, and there was no reason to give such a dark train of thought any attention. He was out on his own, seeing the world in truth for the first time! No one to tell him where he should go, no one to tell him who he should and shouldn't talk to, it was Krichevskoy's chance to truly shine! Or, it was as long as he kept his identity secret. He wasn't quite used to dealing with the common folk, and it wouldn't do to sully his name and the name of his family on his first night out amongst the masses. He had a reputation to keep and prove.
Perhaps he should have come up with some sort of pseudonym before he had left the castle.
He tried to make up for lost time by thinking as he walked, but it didn't take long for something to catch Krichevskoy's attention and interrupt his train of thought. Among the various sights the castle town had to offer, there was a fair-size crowd animatedly chattering away and occasionally booing or tossing trash at a few brightly-colored figures on a stage. His curiosity overtaking him, the crown prince pushed his way into the crowd to get a better look.
"Halt, evildoer!" the red armored man on stage cried out. "We'll put an end to your horrible crimes!"
A blue one spoke up next, striking a pose. "If you thought you could get away with what you've done, maybe the power of justice will change your mind!"
Krichevskoy made a face. "'Power of Justice?'" he echoed. That sort of sounded like something he'd read before, but… strangely stilted and not quite as impressive as he had imagined. And yet as disappointing as it was, he couldn't look away.
The green one was next. "Our seven lights spring to the task… to save the world with courage and hope!"
"Together…"
"We are…"
"The Seven-Colored Warriors… the Prism Knights!" There was a bang, and a three-colored explosion—red, blue, and green—went off behind them.
Krichevskoy stared at them in awe. Despite the less-than-stellar start, these Prism Knights had completely captured his heart. Except… "Hold on, how can they be the 'Prism Knights' if there are only three of them?" he wondered aloud.
A scoff came from next to him. "Sickening, isn't it? What kind of audience do these people think they have? This will never catch on."
"Well, actually I appreciate the idea. It is merely the execution I have problems with," Krichevskoy explained, turning to face the speaker. It looked to be a boy about his age, perhaps a mage of some sort.
"Are you serious? A play about 'courage and hope?' The demons that took part in this farce should all be strung up." The boy narrowed his yellow eyes, his eyes still on the stage.
The corners of Krichevskoy's mouth drew into a thin, stubborn line. "Why?" he shot back. "What is so wrong about it? It is all in good fun, is it not? And it is entertaining! Not all media has to be dark and foreboding. What is so wrong about occasionally having a show where the protagonists advocate the ideas of justice?"
The other boy finally turned to face Krichevskoy, looking at the prince as though he had gone insane. "What's wrong with it? Do you even realize what you're saying? What sort of demon are you?" He looked as though he was about to say more, but instead he paused, looking Krichevskoy over with a scrutinizing eye. "Wait a moment. You're…"
"I am just passing through!" Krichevskoy was quick to interject, pulling the hood of his cloak further down over his face. "A traveler. Nothing more!
There was another short silence. "…I see. Then the next time you pass through, I would keep your… ideas to yourself. Just a little friendly advice."
Krichevskoy nodded. It sounded as though the boy had bought it, but he had pulled his hood so far over his face he couldn't see. Just to check, he pulled it up the tiniest bit and peered out, only to find that the boy had disappeared into the crowd. "That was odd," he murmured.
"But he is right, Prince," Longinus whispered, peering from behind. "Regardless of what you think, those views are dangerous. It would be better to keep quiet about them for now. You were lucky you weren't recognized."
Krichevskoy didn't answer, instead turning his attention back to the stage, where the three Prism Knights had just begun a poorly choreographed fight against a zombie with a monocle and fake mustache. He didn't understand. He knew people didn't like what he liked, but he just didn't understand.
What was so dangerous about being the way he was?