The blood sky hung heavy over Avonlea, a decade of death that blocked both moon and stars.
With one dagger, one demon, the command of a king and a spell of slaughter, all of Avonlea felt the change.
The Dark One forced a chain of immediate death throughout the realm, sparing man and beast, his spell targeting the hoards that invaded this pocket kingdom and fed on its people. That sinister incantation felled every ogre in the realm, the sky crimson with wrath.
Still.
As the last ogre fell, Avonlea would know peace again. The skies would clear. The villages would rebuild. The sun would shine on this land once more.
Yes. Peace for my country. The king looked to Gaston and well remembered the reward he had granted the knight. Safety for those next in line.
Grand thoughts had come over the king at the sight of the sea of dead monsters and there, in the center of it all, the Dark One.
Limitless power and it was all his.
The demon was only a conduit to the king's wishes now. A tool. Maurice had had to stare at the creature after he'd returned from the slaughter, his mind spinning. So small a figure, the Dark One was larger than any imp or goblin, yet smaller than most men of Avonlea. In the castle hall the king's desperation had overrun his fear in commanding the mage; now, under the haze of the blood sky, he appeared just as grotesque to the eyes of the king...and yet, for all his bizarre visage and the power he could wield, this creature belonged to him. The Dark One was owned. He was to obey the king's every whim, more loyal than any dog in the kingdom and more compliant than any slave.
The king tightened his hold on the dagger as they made their way into the castle.
His stomach rumbled and he was struck with the thought that it had been years since he'd had a meal worthy of a king.
Every last ogre is dead. A celebration. A feast for every meal.
"Creature, stock the kitchens! I would have a feast. Our days of bone broth and shriveled cabbages are over."
Meekly following the other knights into the main hall, the Dark One lifted his head and, without protest, took a deep breath to focus his thoughts.
Within moments, the few servants who remained in the kitchen below were startled by the sudden hunt and harvest that had just come upon them, shelves and pantries that had long stood empty were now bursting with food. Exotic fruit and vegetables at the height of their seasons, the meat of every beast in farm and forrest, breads fresh from the bakeries of lands unknown.
Or, unknown to the surprised servants - the Dark One had summoned the food from the neighboring kingdoms, just a bit of petty theft.
A feast, just as the king commanded.
The Dark One thought it fair. Let the countries that surrounded this kingdom know hunger for a night where Avonlea had known it for years.
Distantly, those in the main hall could hear the servants clamoring with joy, all of them hustling to contend with the food.
The knights of the king's guard were spreading throughout the castle, excitedly telling everyone with a pair of ears the wondrous news - all the ogres dead, every last one felled by the Dark One. He could hear them, the knights shouting happily, the thrilled shrieking of ladies, the murmured prayers of thanks from the clerics and then their immediate concern that no god had come forth to save them, but rather the darkest mage of legend. He snorted a soft laugh at that.
Yes, bring down all the gods of old and worship me - I am the true savior of Avonlea!
The demon was pulled from the tempting thought of beautiful virgins offered in sacrifice once the king began to voice his intent.
"So much to do, tomorrow starts the rebirth of my country but tonight we celebrate!" Maurice turned to face him directly, and the Dark One felt insulted anew as the king spoke to him like a damn child, words slow and steady. So quickly these people had lost their fear of him, not even the ladies in the main hall appeared worried over him now. So quickly they had forgotten what he was.
Well. All in due time.
"Creature, my daughter is in the far north kingdom of Arendelle, that land ruled over by the Ice Queen. I sent her away for protection, along with our highest clerics and learned knights. They were to safeguard my daughter and the hallmarks of our culture...they were to continue on when Avonlea fell." The king took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. "Bring my Belle to me, creature. Bring her home."
The king's voice had grown soft and earnest at the mention of his child. Ah. Here was a father who cared. As far as any man could care for a daughter, at least. All women were dowry debts, true, but they could be useful when it came time for the father to arrange a marriage. The Dark One thought on that. King Maurice had promised his daughter to the knight, a man far below her station of royalty, but the girl's hand had been promised away to the man who had brought the savior of their people.
The king had not expected to see tomorrow. The plan had been for any forward scouts who'd lived after the ogres' latest advance to light a signal fire once the enemy had come into view. That signal fire would only be lit once the ogres had come too far to be stopped. From there, the king would order every servant to flee the castle, set them off into the desperate world to scramble for safety while he and the knights of the king's guard would make their final stand.
But the fire did not flare.
Gaston had come with the dagger.
The Dark One had cast his wrath.
And now, the king was thinking of the future of his country with a galvanized sense of hope. King Maurice was a man of his word. The marriage would go forward. In time. Yes. In time the marriage between princess and knight may yet prove to be a fine match. Just the symbol of new hope the people of Avonlea would need in this time of uncertain rebirth.
Hmmm.
Perhaps the king was not a complete fool.
The girl, then. Belle.
The Dark One was silent for a moment, and then clapped his hands together, just once.
The main hall was suddenly flush with people, the old clerics and most learned of knights and servants, all of whom had left months ago and never expected to see their homeland again.
And there in the crowd of confused servants, the girl.
Dressed so plainly in a cotton day dress of pale blue, her hair up in a girlish knot and a frown of surprise and confusion furrowing her brow, was the one princess of all Avonlea.
"Belle!"
The girl turned and her face brightened with a smile as she rushed to the king, "Father! I don't - how are we home? I was just in the garden with Anna-"
Maurice swept the girl into his arms, the embrace of pure joy. He spun her once before setting her down on her feet, his wide smile a perfect match to her own. "It's a miracle, Belle! The ogres are dead, never to rise again."
"We defeated the ogres?" She asked, shocked. Her eyes shone with tears of happiness to see her father again, but she had to know how such a thing could be possible. "How can it be? The last I saw of you, we were saying our last goodbyes and now-"
The imp rolled his eyes. "Curious little cat, isn't she?"
The girl turned and all joy swept from her face once she looked upon him. "Father, who is-?"
The king laughed at his child's concern and couldn't resist the gloat, "That is the creature who banished the ogres from our lands. You adore books Belle, I know you've read legends of the Dark One."
Shocked at her father's words, Belle allowed herself the freedom to stare at this thing standing before her. It was a creature built in the form of a man, standing on two legs, taller than she, but smaller than every other man in the hall, and clothed in fine, tight leathers. She looked upon the creature's naked face, taking in the scales covering his - for this being lacked all womanly curve - face, neck, and the few inches of chest exposed by his shirt. The creature's hands were bare, each finger tipped with a black talon. A ragged mane of brown hair topped his head, just barely concealing the pointed tips of his ears. The large eyes that held hers were bright copper in color and unnervingly intense.
For one of the few times in her life, Belle felt unbalanced, and words failed her. "The Dark One...this is...father, why?"
The king scoffed at Belle's shock, fully confident in his control of the mage. In truth, his relief at the defeat of the ogres was intoxicating; he had been trapped with the constant despair of rule under onslaught for over a decade - he gloried in the freedom from that pressure now, cruelly parading the instrument of his victory about the court.
"Fear not, my child. Gaston brought the dagger to me, and so I now have the Dark One dancing on puppet strings. Not so fearsome now, are you, creature?"
Belle's eyes widened at her father's taunting. Surely, her king must be mad to prod the magician of legend.
When the Dark One answered back, Belle shivered at the sound. His voice was higher than she expected, but not unfitting for a man of his stature. Still, his tone was mocking, if not downright scornful; a tone never directed to her father in all the years of Belle's memory.
"Perhaps not, sire, though your girl fears me." He said, eyes steady on the young woman.
She was pretty, to be sure; the princesses and noble ladies that he had become acquainted with over the years were all lovely, all of them with compelling eyes and shining hair, to say nothing of their pleasing figures. The Dark One often wondered if there was something in the water.
The king turned to his daughter, "What is there to fear, my lovely Belle? He is a pet now. Go on," he urged her, "Give him a scratch behind the ears for his good work today."
A nervous round of laughter flowed through the gathered court, though no smile touched Belle's lips.
She paid no mind to her father's joke, her eyes were riveted on the dragon man, this demon mage who had saved what remained of her people in their final hour of need. She stepped closer to him, wary but not afraid. "You are the Dark One, truly?"
He giggled at her question, chirping like a bird and startling her. "Well, I'm not the blue fairy, dearie. She's a bit shorter. I hold many titles, the Dark One being chief among them, yes. And you are the princess Belle?"
Despite it all, Belle smiled at him, spreading her skirt wide to give him a low curtesy. "I am, sir."
He raised a brow at her, frankly surprised at this welcoming display. He'd expected disgust and fear from the court of Avonlea, especially from a cloistered princess - but then again this pocket kingdom had been under siege for over a decade. Perhaps they did not find him so fearsome in comparison to those vicious giants. What fools.
He held out his hand to her, daring the girl to touch him now. "Your name suits you, young beauty."
Surprising him again, Belle showed no hesitation in placing her hand with his, not even when he curled his clawed fingers over her own in the ritual grasp of introduction. "You are very kind."
"Do not show such shock. Being evil does not forbid me from keeping my manners."
Belle shook her head at him, "You banished the ogres, sir, you cannot be all evil."
He flashed her a sly grin, showing his fangs. "I banished the ogres under command from your father. A command I would not have obeyed otherwise. And you presume that it was not I who set the ogres after your people in the first place."
Bright blue eyes widened at him, "You...?"
But he was finished toying with the girl and shooed her from him, his expression suddenly bored, eyes falling on the feast table and the food being served that called to his appetite. "Away from me, young miss, your betrothed will be wanting your company."
He turned away from her, going off to sit at the table and leaving a very confused princess in his wake.
At the far edge of the long table, the demon picked at the meal he'd been given by the terrified maid assigned to his service during the feast. A stuffed hen, a baked sweet potato, a large helping of buttered carrots. He was hungry from the energy it had cost him to comply with the bastard king's demands; in actual fact he was hungrier than he could remember being for the last several weeks, yet the stolen food was as ashes in his mouth.
Restlessness clawed at him. He hated this, being under the thumb of such a fool as this King Maurice of Avonlea, but for the moment he had no choice. As always, he would have to play his part to get what he wanted. Terribly vexing to his impatient nature.
"My Lord? D-Dark One, I could fetch you something else, if you'd like." The maid at his side told him, eyes watching him carefully, her thin body tensed in fear.
The maid. Sanka Carole, a mere slip of a girl at sixteen years old, with an uncle in the king's guard and a small mole on her neck, whose fondest wish would be to marry the squire she flirts with so innocently.
He knew all of this and more as soon as he'd learned her name. He also knew that she was immensely grateful to him for ridding the land of ogres but it was his appearance - and more specifically, his claws - that were so frightening to her.
"I...that is, if we have anything that would please you, sir."
He blinked and saw it now, what young Sanka was trying to ask him in her own delicate way. She was unsure of what he might favor to eat, and she prayed the rumors of his eating children were only gossip. He toyed with asking her for an orphaned toddler to nosh on as a joke, but thought better of it.
He shook his head and kept his hands still on the table so as not to startle her. "Do not trouble yourself, girl. I eat the same food as any man, I would only rather return home to the meal I was called away from when your king summoned me here." The thought of being home again stabbed at him: to be spinning by the fire, or reading some tale in a new language, away from the idiot on the throne and all this humiliation as his slave.
"I am sorry."
"Not your fault." He dismissed her concern. No. It was not her fault that he had been summoned by the fool. She was just a girl, but the Dark One could see a use for everyone. He turned the conversation to something more profitable for him. "Sanka, tell me of this squire you love."
She balked at his words, guilty heat flooding her cheeks, "What?!"
"Do not play coy with me. Speak as if I know all, which I do. I know there have only been the most innocent of kisses between you, but enough to build a promise on. How sweet." Love was a sickness, he had learned that his own way. Even speaking of it now made him nauseous.
"I - we haven't...there is no promise."
"Sanka. Wear this in your hair whenever you see your man, and he will call you his wife by next year's end."
From nowhere, the demon produced a golden ribbon.
So fine a thing, the silk glimmered in the light. Life in Avonlea being what it was, Sanka had never seen such finery. Her dress was plain linen, far outgrown and worn thin. Her shoes were the hide of a mule, her hair a tail of frizzed brown. She was plain goods wrapped in brown paper and twine, but if she were to adorn herself with such a fine ribbon...
Simple girl.
Sanka took the ribbon and watched the gold silk glint in the light. The ribbon was warm with enchantment. Such a fine ribbon, and if the Dark One's word was true - and the legends all told of his power to grant wishes - then she and Thomas would soon be wed. To marry Thomas, to be his wife and to start a family...what else was there in life for her? That future she'd always dreamed of, it had been nothing but a dream - for months she'd lived with the fear that Thomas would be called to face the ogres, that she would weep over his death.
But now...
The Dark One had brought hope to Avonlea, a thing more dangerous than the most ardent love.
"Dark One, you would give me this ribbon?"
"I never said it came without price." He warned.
"I have nothing to give you."
"You have more than you know. I will give you the ribbon, enchanted with good fortune to bring about the marriage you've wanted since laying eyes on your squire. In return, tell me of the court."
Sanka reached for the ribbon. Just as he knew she would.
More from absent habit than true appetite, the Dark One crunched his way through the unfortunate game hen's bones and was just about to start on the potato when he glanced up as a flash of muddy green came into view. He looked up to see a handsome woman of middle years standing before him, the spring green shade of her dress long faded.
"Clarice Brownstone." He said her name plainly, as a greeting. Sanka had been very helpful in pointing out people of rank, servants of use, and matching names to faces.
The woman gasped lightly, surprised that he would know her name, but then, his powers were legend. Or so she assumed. He could have learned everything about her once she'd volunteered her name, but the Dark One was grateful for the reprieve. He knew all too well that he should enjoy this down time while he could - soon the king would be commanding him to move mountains.
"I...yes, I am."
"What do you want? Did you want to try for a deal? I'm sorry to say that I find myself under contract at the moment. However, if you were to be a doll and go kill the king for me, once I'm a free agent again you have my promise that I would be more than generous."
Clarice had seen for herself how the king had enslaved the Dark One and she did feel sympathy for him. Still, "I cannot do that."
"Pity." He huffed. "What do you want then?"
"I only wanted to thank you. For ridding our land of the ogres. For so long, they...my brother, he left to fight them and never came home. It's because of you that they've gone away. Thank you, Dark One, thank you, thank you."
He raised his brows again, surprised to be shown such open gratitude. Looking past her, he saw several other women, all of them vying for the chance to thank him personally for what he did, to touch the hands that had killed the ogres. No scowls of disgust? No screams of terror or calls to the clerics to rid the castle of his evil? He could sense nothing, only the warm aura of gratitude. Quite a nice change of pace for him.
"Ah, it was no matter." He waved away her thanks. "I've no love for the ogres, it was a command I was happy to hear."
Clarice ignored his dismissal, and reached to him, taking his hands into her own. "It was no small thing to the people here. For ten years the monsters came for us. In the rain, in the dark, in the day. Nothing could stop them. They ate their way through every man the king put in front of them. Avonlea was doomed, until you. You saved all of us, Dark One. You may not know what to do with it, but you have my eternal thanks."
Eyes wide with surprise, the mage watched as Clarice moved away, making room for another lady to thank him, and another and another. Despite how unfamiliar it was to be shown such gratitude, he found himself flattered by the attentions of so many ladies. He was only a man, in the end, and all men longed to be shown appreciation.
And it was just that, that all the ladies who remained of the court were favoring the Dark One, rather than their king, that his humiliation began anew.
As his eyes fell on his pet demon and all the ladies doting on him, King Maurice stood up, commanding the attention of the hall, "Ladies, away from him! You are not here to flirt, creature. Put yourself to a better use and entertain my court."
The Dark One scowled at the king's rudeness. He had, against all odds, found himself enjoying the feast. The attention from so many grateful ladies, more so. They had clasped his hands in their own, some of them had even shocked him with an embrace and, for the first time in centuries, he had felt the soft press of a woman's lips to his cheek. He wore several fragrant leis of wildflowers around his neck, hastily woven gifts from grateful wives and mothers who had nothing else to offer.
He watched with regret as the women retreated away from him under their king's command. It was a true effort to suppress his snarl, "Entertain the court. How?"
Maurice shrugged, "Perform magic tricks, conjure some music. Can you dance? Sing us a song, perhaps."
Seated at her father's side, Belle could see the fury building in the Dark One, how her father was provoking him to show his position. This was some petty ploy to remind those gathered in the hall that the mage was only a slave, not a savior. The Dark One might be forced to obey, but no good could come of this. "Father-"
"Yes, sing to us of the first years - you are the Dark One and so lived when the world was young. Sing of it."
Belle put her hand over her father's forearm to gain his attention. "Father, perhaps the Dark One would just prefer to partake of the meal, or retire to a room? Banishing the ogres must have been tiring, I imagine."
Still seated at the banquet table, the captive demon raised a brow at the protests of the princess. It was clear she meant to divert her king from forcing him to perform, but why? What difference did it make to her what foolishness the king commanded of him?
The king brushed off his daughter's hand, "Nonsense, the creature is tireless and in time will serve many uses. In any event he will not have a room, but the dungeon or he shall vanish until I have need of him again."
Belle fell silent, and the Dark One vanished from his seat at the table and reappeared a moment later in the center of the hall.
From all sides of the court music could be heard, and then the Dark One began to sing.
Belle shuddered, not from the soft beauty of the creature's voice, but for the chained fury in his eyes when he looked upon her father.