-Chapter Two: That every imperfection is a lie (or at least an interruption)-

Bad tripped over a root, wincing when his ankle twisted at an awkward angle. His pouch threatened to fall off his shoulder, but he shrugged it up before it could. Who knew if the pouch would cushion the precious item's fall.

When he was with him, he was about his height, which was around the usual 5'6, maybe even a half an inch taller just to prove a point and infuriate the other.

I would give anything to see you that way again.

Now he was taller, way taller than he was back then, easily 9'6. The other, before he felt the need to grow as tall as he could, was 2'2. For his kingdom, that was tall.

Bad flung his hood over his ears, his horns just in front of the seam. He learned the hard way what he looked like with his hood over his horns. And besides, it ripped the cloth, and he's had this since…

He couldn't even remember.

Bad's tail swung out from under him as he stood up, blocking the sun with a hand as he looked ahead from the shadows, preventing the glare. The other loved the sun. He loved everything about the outside.

Bad wished he could feel the same way.

~--~

Skeppy backed away. The chill came back, stronger than ever.

What type of name is BadBoyHalo?

The figure sighed. "I knew you would think the same. No human is different." Skeppy immediately felt horrible. "No, no, no! I was just a bit… surprised. No one that I know has a name like that…" He trailed off.

Bad shrugged. "It's not bad. I just assumed."

Skeppy moved forward, almost pressing his face between the bars to see Bad better. "Are you human?" He then clamped his mouth shut. Such a stupid question.

BadBoyHalo seemed to listen to his thoughts, because he replied, "It's not a stupid question. And no, I'm not human."

Skeppy's eyes widened, and he resisted the urge to back away again. "Th-then what are you?"

Bad's eyes squinted. A smile, perhaps?

"A demon," he responded. His voice held a hint of amusement, and even more accusations too.

Skeppy blanched. "A-a DEMON?! Here? In the prison??" He just about smacked into the cold stone wall trying to turn around. A dark hand reached past the shadows and bars and grabbed Skeppy's wrist.

"Calm down!" Bad demanded hurriedly, pulling Skeppy back. Skeppy bit his tongue so he wouldn't scream. A DEMON was TOUCHING him. Wasn't this a sign of death or something? Maybe he could slack off with some bad luck. But still!

When Skeppy finally was able to let go of his tongue between his teeth, the demon - no, address him by his name - BADBOYHALO - let go as well, stepping back. "Please just… listen to me."

Skeppy crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as his whole body trembled. It felt like an act, the whole thing - except for Bad. He seemed real. But he would still keep up the charade just in case Bad might actually be lying and break.

"Alright. Talk."

Bad let out a puff of breath, now steam in the hot air. Wait. Hot? It was just a bearable warmth, but to this point the temperature seemed crushing.

Bad seemed to notice as well. "I don't have time to explain, but I'm trying to HELP you. You need to help me get out of here."

Skeppy's eyes narrowed even more, if that was possible. Now he couldn't see anything at all, due to how much his eyes were squinted and the lack of light. "Why me?"

Bad scoffed, seeming a bit exasperated. "Because YOU are down here and you're actually talking to me, unlike those dumb guards."

Skeppy sighed, letting his arms fall and his fingers trace the scratches on the bars on Bad's cell. Did he cause these, or did some prisoner even more maniacal than him before? Maybe both? It certainly was a possibility.

"I'll talk to my dad."

"How's your dad supposed to help me in this situation?"

"He's the king."

The demon went silent. He was quiet long enough for Skeppy to suddenly wonder if this person was a figure of his imagination. But then Bad spoke up again, seeming a little unsure.

"What if he doesn't help?"

"I'll make him listen. If you really are trying to help… well, I wonder if that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Bad pressed his face close to the bars; the warm light touched just a couple features. His face was void black, which explained why Skeppy couldn't see it until now, even with some trouble. His eyes were white, yes, but if you focused enough, you could see a hint of bright emerald, so tiny and miniscule. Skeppy wanted to get closer just to see the colour better. But Bad pulled away before Skeppy could.

"Thank you." he whispered, sounding genuinely grateful.

"Yeah, anytime." Skeppy choked out. He didn't want to leave quite yet; he wanted to hear more about Bad's plans to help. But already he has said he doesn't have a lot of time, which prisoners barely do. So he started back down the hall with just a small wave to signal a goodbye.

He wondered if Bad waved back.

-

Skeppy couldn't help but feel relief as he appeared back to level ground. When he emerged into the light, he felt blinded, and he grabbed his face to shield his eyes from the sun shining through the windows.

When he had regained his ability to see, he trotted back through the halls, pausing in the same paper - filled room as before. He poked his head in, but didn't see his father.

He ducked back out, looking around. He spotted a particularly tense - looking guard, and he hurried over to him. "Hey, hey!" he called, then felt guilty that he knew no one's name except for his own and his father's (Oh - and Bad's).

The guard bent a bit to look down at Skeppy. His movements were stiff, and Skeppy wondered if the guard was actually a robot. Suddenly Skeppy felt a bit small. Well, smaller than he already was.

"Yes, Your Highness?" the guard asked deeply, raising a brown brow. His hair was a big tangled mess, but not quite like Skeppy's dark mop for hair. He looked almost Skeppy's age, and that made the prince loosen up a bit. Bros to bros, right?

Maybe that's not how friendships work.

Wait, are he and Bad friends? Maybe he should've asked him before he scrambled away out of -

"Your Highness?" the guard repeated, and Skeppy snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh! Um, sorry. Eh… do you know where my dad went?"

The guard shook his head. "No."

Skeppy was a bit taken aback by how curt he had become all of a sudden, but he let it go soon after. "Oh. Well, thanks anyway."

Skeppy started to hunt through the halls again, then stopped in his tracks and looked back over his shoulder at the guard.

"Oh! Before I go, what's your name?"

The guard seemed a bit surprised, and he looked around like Skeppy could be talking to someone else. "Uh, Spifey, Your Majesty."

"Spifey. I like that." Skeppy smiled at the guard before turning and running again.

As he ran through the winding halls, he was dimly aware how lost someone would be in here. Every corridor looked the same with tan walls and velvet carpets, and every room was the same blueprint style. The only way you could find where you are without panicking and breaking something (probably one of the expensive vases his mother used to collect) was to look into the rooms and see what's inside them, because each room is different.

But most of the time his father liked to hinder the commons' ability to navigate by closing off the rooms.

Skeppy had overheard that it was an easy way to gain debts. As if he needed any, he was the king after all. Why would he need even MORE reason to take what he wanted from his people?

And this wasn't true until his mother left.

He knew it was cliche. Happy royal family. Mother leaves. Dad turns into some sort of control freak over the kingdom. Son that doesn't want to be royal.

But life is just full of cliches, isn't it? That's why he's bothering to even explain anything.

If Skeppy could somehow get out of this kingdom, and get Bad out in the process -

He just about smacked into his dad, but the king had thick enough fabric from his cloak it was like running into a pillow. A pillow that could suffocate you if you looked at it funny.

His father turned and raised a brow disdainfully, before smiling. "Zak."

"Skeppy, father."

"Yes yes. Now, what do you need? I'm busy at the moment."

"Dad…" Skeppy hesitated, wringing his fingers together. He wasn't quite sure how to go about this, but he ploughed on, hoping his mind would take the lead. "Father, there's a prisoner in the dungeons who is wrongly accused. I talked to them, and they don't seem to be lying about whatever they are trying to do."

"And what prisoner is this -"

"Your Highness." A tall, lean man with a close - crop cut and an upturned nose stepped forward, sniffing. "The trial is starting."

"We'll have to talk about this afterwards, Zak. But come with me, this is the perfect time to learn about court laws."

Skeppy opened his mouth to protest, but his father didn't let him contradict, so he was forced to follow. The stuffy man led the way into a large room. Of course, Skeppy had been in here before; he was sure he knew every room's format by heart. The whole room was filled with long wooden benches that faced the front where a podium stood proud. The king would sit in the middle, then the objector, and then the third podium was usually empty, but Skeppy figured he'd have to sit there.

It was also right in front of the accuser's spot, and Skeppy wasn't sure he'd want to be near a potentially mad prisoner, but his father would just tell him to suck it up. "You're a prince," he'd say. "You'll learn," he'd say.

People were already sitting in the long wooden benches, and when they saw the three emerge, they all stood up simultaneously and bowed. Skeppy rolled his shoulders self - consciously. This was his least favorite part about being royalty. The constant attention and pampering.

HIs father sat down in the biggest chair, the stuffy man on his right. The king gestured for Skeppy to sit on his left, and Skeppy complied. Might as well get this over with.

"Bring forth the prisoner!"

A couple guards appeared from a corner, materializing like ghosts. Between them they held a tall figure by the arms, dragging him forward until he was behind the accuser's podium and in front of Skeppy.

The figure's hood was up, but Skeppy could see dark horns poking under them. It looked hilarious actually, like the prisoner's head was a lot longer than it probably was. A long tail snaked its way under its hood and belt, and -

Wait one moment.

The king glared down at the prisoner, seeming very angry by the way his fingers clenched the table, making his knuckles paper - white.

"BadBoyHalo. You are standing here in accusation of murder and theft. What do you have to say for yourself?"

A/N: sorry for the very delayed uploads! I was going through some tough times, and I needed a bit of a break from social media. But I'm back, and I plan on posting every Friday from now on!