Rogues and Royals never mixed. It was only normal in our world ever since a rogue attack killed the only daughter of the Royal family.
We'd been tortured for years, hiding in small villages, barely surviving off of what we had and fearing the day t...
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• ONE •
Confined behind large doors rimmed with golden carvings, a little boy was born in a palace filled with riches and extravagance.
A prince, who was given the name of his late grandfather, Nikolas Castellano II. This new prince was the talk of all the people in Verona and across the country miles and miles ahead. After all, a successor to the throne was all that mattered to the people.
The birth of the young prince was celebrated all across the country, bringing some sort of light to the kingdom after the death of the royal families first daughter was announced during a horrifying rogue attack only a year before.
Prince Nikolas was given everything to him handed on gold platters, and never once felt the pain of hunger or sight of children drinking dirty water, a normal life for most of the village people.
He was the envy of the population.
Or so they believed.
A baby, whose innocent brown eyes saw mere seconds of his mother before being given to maids. A baby, whose ears never heard the joy of laughter. A baby, whose eyes never saw smiles, whose soft skin never felt a hug, or small hands held a teddy bear.
In a matter of only some years, when the prince turned 8, those same eyes saw murder, those same ears heard shouts of terror, that same soft skin held death, and those same hands, now painted a haunting dark red, stared down at the cause of his own work.
But his parents hadn't taken the humanity out of him, yet, because for the first time, a single tear shed from his empty eyes into his shaky hands at the horrifying sight.
" What did I tell you about crying?"
In a kingdom, where the crown held more power then life and humanity in itself, a royal family was destroying a child's pure heart, carving it piece by piece until only a monster remained.
You take the crown, or you die a coward.
" No...no crying...men...don't cry."
His quiet sobs could be heard throughout the dark castle as he sat in his fathers office, only the sound of a burning fire and his short whimpers haunting the cold air.
" Speak up boy! A king doesn't speak like an imbecile!"
A young boy.
" Toby was my puppy." The little boy cried, looking up at his careless father with pooled eyes of tears. Never once had he seen his father smile, or speak to him like he was his child.
Nikolas never liked his father
A father who held a sword between his own son and a dog, spitting the words " The dogs life, or yours" minutes before Nikolas was forced to murder his only friend, the first life of many he'd be forced to take away until it was only normal for him.
" A king doesn't waste time with love, the weakest and most cowardly of feelings a man can have."
His fathers words were never happy. They never brought him comfort, or safety.
In fact, the young prince's father felt like a stranger to him, nearly just as much as his mother.
His parents were never there for him, but they were always there to raise him in becoming the person he is today.
As the young prince grew older he'd never seen a normal day. Weeks turned to months which in turn became years of his once pure hands now only covered in the blood of hundreds upon thousands of lives.
Some say he was worse then his father who'd passed away in war mere days after the prince turned 18, others say he had no heart or mercy, that his hands could hold lava and still find a way to kill his enemies.
The stories of the torture he'd put rogues through were heard more of then literature and math, and the mass murders of rogues had gone to extreme numbers when King Nikolas took over the throne at the young age of 18.
He had no mercy
He had no ounce of light in his long gone heart, hidden behind cold, merciless eyes that no one dared to question.
The kingdom of Verona was no kingdom to mess with, anyone who tried even a mere threat would get ripped to shreds before another breath left their lungs.
The people, though most living in poverty, stayed because of the safety they knew they'd have being under King Nikolas' rule.
Because of the king, there had been no rogue attacks in years. All of them were in hiding, living in the poorest of conditions as they ran from the merciless king and his army.
But King Nikolas wouldn't give up until he had the blood of every single rogue on his hands, until he had them enslaved as his own workers, until there were none left walking on his land.
There was no use begging for forgiveness, he felt no remorse.
Once you were found by the royal army, your life was guaranteed over, unless chosen to become a servant for the rest of your life under the royal family.
This was Nikolas Castellano, this was the story of a king.
