I wake up to the searing pain in my left ear. My mouth has been wrapped, disabling any communication to anyone outside. I quickly recognize the pain, my earring had been torn off, due to the same similar earring on the table nearby. The earring is drenched in blood, more specifically, my blood.
I struggle to slip out of the robes, tugging them back and forth and losing them around my arms. The bruises show, crystal clear. I look back up, hearing a quiet chuckle from the back of the room. A darker shadow appears in the corner of the dungeon, it’s identity marked out by the glaring sun from the back window. She smiles, a smile I’m familiar with.
“Damian. Stay where you are dear~” Mother wears a purple silk dress. Unlike the one before, this dress has multiple layers, one on top of the other. The skirt ends at her waist and an intricate thread pattern connects it to a sleeveless top. Then the top is laced around her neck with the same pattern. Surprisingly, I know that dress, exactly the same dress. For that dress is the same one that the girl in the picture wore. Making me assume that the picture was magical and never actually taken. I can’t help but feel bummed because I was excited to see a creature like that in Euothia. “Mommy’s going to make you the most perfect king Demon Domain will ever see!” She laughs at her own joke. Unlike the mother I knew before, this one seems to have lost her mind. As if something had taken out her plans…
Was this all because I yelled at her?
I immediately reject the thought. I knew mother was crazy but not that crazy, right?
She pulls something out from under her pocket, a sharp stick. Because of the bright glare from the window, I say it’s metal: A needle…
A magic needle
The same one used on Yehain’s eyes and now on my mouth. Mother knew smiling would feel different, so she gave me five hours to get used to it… For my mouth to feel the same thing forever.
“Someone’s catching on. Just like your father I see~” She pulls the needle up to her mouth. Rubbing it against her own lips. “That old brat has gotten you around his finger. You say him today, didn’t you? You saw Lucas Von Choclin. I know you did. I needed to get Jaswrie on it. I was right to warn him.” Her lips curl up, leaving a space for her deadly teeth. She turns around to gauge my reaction to her nickname for father.
As my mother moves away from her point of entry, a yellow star lights up from the corner of the room. If I’m not mistaken, that star is Lundo’s eye. Also betrayed by my mother, he’s pushed into danger and therefore... ready for the kill.
Lundo had been nominated Best Of His Age. Even though he was chosen as a guard for me, he managed to earn the respect of the entire kingdom and therefore earning his role as a Von Choclin. Of course, they couldn’t accept him like that. So, the Demon Council made him a “Xavier Choclin.” In all terms, Lundo has more respect and power in the kingdom than Mr. Jaswire Bushé. Lundo's name now stands as "Lundo Xavier Choclin." For what it was before, I have not a single idea. I have no memory of Lundo's former family name.
Did it already start with an "X?"
Anyway, Lundo struggles, also wrapped in the uncomfortably taught ropes. His eyes finally glare up to meet mine, and for once, I finally understand him.
Lundo was threatened by my mother.
Mother, also named Demona Von Choclin, was the top of her class. She was known for her violence. Understandably, violence was looked down upon unless one had an exemplary level in academics. Ironically, my mother had excelled both physically and mentally. In return, she was praised enormously and was called to be seen in front of the old prince: My father. My grandfather, Marcus Von Choclin, was impressed and called for marriage.
"Lundo," mother calls out.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Do you have the string?"
"Y-yes," Lundo holds out a shiny string from his loose arm.
Mother snatches the string from him, careless enough to leave a gashing scar on Lundo's palm with her long fingernails. Everyone in the royal family has long nails, even me.
The needle and thread soar in mid-air, due to mother's magic. Lifting things is one of the easiest things a demon-like mother could do. If she wanted to, she could hold 50 times more than that. She grabs the needle, slipping the string through in a split second. I wonder if she's on a timer.
She then bends to my level to start.
❊ ❊ ❊
At first I felt minimal pain. Mother had just started sewing the first, few stitches, cutting through my bottom lip and reaching to the top.
Of course, she knew it wouldn't work. Doing such a pattern would on make a line, not a smile. Sadly, I have no idea what she's trying to pull off. For all I know, she might not be trying to make a smile.
After a few minutes, the pain starts rushing through my body. My initial reaction was scream. Sadly, the scream was slightly muffled due to the stitches which were already sewn. The screams didn't reach the castle.
My next tactic was simple, more physical, move. Quickly, I jolted around in my seat, so much so mother had to grab my horn, holding me down.
That didn't stop me, I quickly shook my head. The action was so brutal that it resulted in the top half of my horn to crack off, falling to the floor.
Mother, shocked, had been lucky she finished her stitches by that time. On the other hand, I was in trouble.
As I predicted, the string closed my mouth shut. How did she intend to make me a perfect king?
Simple magic. To be more precise, mumble a few words under her breath, causing a cloud of red dust swirling around me and eventually, gathering itself around my mouth.
In a split second, the dust enters my mouth, pulling it apart into a large, uncomfortable smile.
"For a king, they would say once the blood was wiped from my face. Of course, they could never see the string and made a clear color sink into my skin.
Mother curses under her breath, picking up my broken horn from the floor.
After a few seconds, mother moves away. Lundo, still tied up and bleeding, gasps and looks down, avoiding my gaze. I keep staring, trying to make him feel guilty.
All of a sudden, a tiny wince of pain hits my arm. I turn my head. The blood trickles from the large needle. The black, glossy serum infecting my mind and clouding my vision.
The next few seconds flow by; the area getting darker by the minute. At last, through my eyes, the world becomes pitch black.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
