"The rain may never fall till after sundown
By eight, the morning must disappear
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot
Camelot! Camelot!
I know it gives a person pause
But in Camelot, Camelot
Those are the legal laws
The snow may never slush upon the hillside
By nine P.M. the moonlight must appear
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here in
Camelot."
Once Upon A Time, like all other fairytales, there was a "prince".
He had everything he ever wanted. Wealth, power, and fame. He had it all within the palm of his hand.
But, with this man he held a cursed necklace. One that was a bright blood red. It was called the Behelit. Otherwise, known as the Egg of the King. It was a wicked thing; with these big, blue eyes all over it with big lips and noses. It was said that the one who wore it would one day hold the power to rule the whole world; in exchange for his flesh and blood. Of course, only a rumour. And rumours were only just that... rumours. And from the crazy old woman who gave it to him, no less.
Man had come to known its existence for centuries across the Midlands. Rumours had spread that the woman before him heard it scream. Others witnessed to have seen hell firsthand. Of course, like most humans, Griffith was curious. He craved to see this so-called power all for himself. He was a selfish man, taking what he wanted so he can possess it for his own.
Quite some time later, he formed a team. It was called the "Band of The Hawk". He named it after his favourite animal: the Golden Hawk. The hawk was a special creature to Griffith. Ever since he was a child, he used to look up at the sky and see them fly and caw loudly in the distance. It gave him hope. That even in the darkest of times, when there seemed little hope for an orphan child living on the streets, that there was more to his life.
Hawks possessed the ability to fly across the sky and soar to great heights above all living things. They were predators, hunting down their prey relentlessly. Like himself. He would rise above all other creatures, and kill the ones who were the weak prey.
With his new team, he needed members. Mercenaries all over the world that he would win over to search across sky and sea to discover their dreams in life. He was a great leader.
Griffith was known to be very charming and charismatic, using others to his advantage. He had them all under his metaphorical wing, so to speak. They all admired him from afar, as long as he was the strong and capable leader that they wanted him to be. He'd always beam at them like a ray of light and inspire hope when he was around them. Whatever he wanted, they did without exception. If they died for his hand, then so be it, he'd think. They would die for him, to help him further along achieve his dream. His soul's desire. It didn't matter if he had a mountain of dead bodies behind him that all died for him. If they wanted to follow him, and support his dream, then they would sacrifice themselves for him. What truly mattered to Griffith was his end goal: the castle. If he claimed the kingdom for his own, then the whole world would be his own. Which is why he taught them the art of war. Kill with a swift swing of a sword.
That was the way of the warrior.
And he would, one day, have a kingdom of his own. Yes, and with the power of the Behelit in his hands, he could become a "God" of this world.
But then, one day, everything changed.
He met a solitary man, with a huge sword of steel.
His name was Guts.
A strong, powerful man with ambitions of his own. Who had dreams beyond being a just a mere mercenary, beyond being a part of Griffith's dream.
The berserker seemed to have a strong sense of character... he wasn't just another mindless follower of Griffith's. And so, Griffith felt a connection, then. A strong bond had formed. An invisible thread formed between them that he had with no one else, not even with Casca.
'A red string of fate,' he thinks, 'we are connected, then.' He slit his arm with his nails hard enough to bleed. The murderous intent emanating off his necklace was enough to overcome his senses.
He could feel the Behelit feeding off his blood, his power. The self-inflicted cuts were deepening into his flesh, and the cursed object hanging off of his necklace was sucking on each and every drop of blood, as if it's very life depended on it. It was... disturbing to see it so alive and wriggling against his arm. It sickened him to see his own blood trailing along his arm and he felt nauseous in his stomach. He vomited, disgusted with himself.
This was wrong.
Why did he feel like slaughtering all of mankind like a pig in a sty? Why did these things - these demons - appear at night? Why was he the only one who saw them?
"There you are, my King." Out of the shadows, he sees a blue-haired woman with black wings surrounding her nude body. "It is time."
A/N: So, this is an old fic of mine that I decided to post on this website. I need to rewrite this whole thing obviously, which I plan on doing at some point. There will be a continuation to this, but at the moment this is simply a preview of what's to come.
Thanks for reading!