Heavy is the Crown ~ Diavolo

What Makes a King

Heavy feather down weighed on his shoulders, plush silk pillows pressing gently against his jaw. A spell of cold had fallen over the ornately decorated room, its icy tendrils trying to slip under the covers. The castle had always been poorly insulated. Residents opt to layer their expensive blankets instead of bothering to have the walls redone. The prince groaned as he rolled over. Red hair tickled his nose–falling from where it'd been tangled in twisting horns– and prompted a loud sneeze. Diavolo shook his head, grumbling as he pushed himself upright.

Sunlight streamed through cherry red curtains, the dust visible in the beams dancing unique little waltzes through the air. Diavolo stretched his arms as he yawned. His silk nightshirt shifted, the fabric sliding over his shoulders as he reached high over his head. Four heavy black wings stretched and pulled behind him, their silky membranes fluttering as they woke. As he rose from the bed, however, the wings reversed their course, folding flush to his back before smoky ringlets spiraled across their surface. The smoke enveloped the wings and then dispersed, the appendages now gone.

Wandering lazily from the bed, he journeyed to the curtains and drew back the dusty red fabric, gazing longingly through the glass, dew drops slightly obstructing his view of the courtyard. The morning called to him, the cool air and shimmering dew like a siren song. It only took a few moments before he was dressed and pulling on his running shoes.

Diavolo bounded down the stairs. He was in the middle of slipping his phone into his pocket when a presence caught his attention, the royal butler watching him from the threshold of a nearby room. He beamed. "Morning, Barbatos."

The man nodded, a small smile falling on his own face. "Good morning, Young Lord." The butler returned his words politely, but didn't move from his place, watching Diavolo continue toward the door. The prince trotted off while slipping in his earbuds.

The morning was even more alluring once he was free of the stuffy fortress. Songs of birds echoed softly from the treetops, barely audible over the bouncy pop song playing in his ear. The breeze affectionately tousled his hair, cherry locks brushing gently around his head. He had meant to jog, but his enthusiasm quickly overtook him, the young demon taking off, veering from the pavement he'd meant to follow and joyously adventuring through the yard. His pace didn't slow until he was amongst towering trees. Diavolo bounded gracefully around fallen branches, stones, and pinecones, all while blissfully taking in the mystic air. The forest deepened around him. Pulse pounding in his ears, Diavolo realized he wasn't listening to his music anymore and opted to pull out his earbud. Suddenly, the sounds around him felt richer. His own footsteps like drums for enchanting bird songs.

He wound through the forest, eventually finding himself drawn to a clearing. The grass grew tall here, reaching nearly to his knees. The trees seemed to lean away from the clearing, the view of the sky free of obstructions. Amidst the towering stalks of grass, freckles of purples and blues hid with shanks of pinks and oranges, tiny bursts of color in the sea of greens. Diavolo slowed almost to a stop, meandering through the grass toward the far side of the clearing.

The trees came to a stop, leaving the fourth wall of the clearing open. He was drawn to the space, curious how far the clearing continued. As he neared, he realized it didn't continue at all and instead dropped steeply to a rocky bank below. The cliff must have been three stories high, the bank seeming leagues below him. Diavolo's eyes drifted outward from the cliff, heaving breath now caught in his throat.

An eternity away twinkled a star studded horizon across an endless expanse of shimmering water. Ships were scattered sparsely across the sparkling fabric. Gulls decorated the sky in little dots, their calls reaching him from miles away.

He had seen this ocean a million times, and yet, every time it was just as beautiful, if not more so. Diavolo sat on the cliff, gazing lovingly out over the water. His breath was coming easy now. His hands were slightly wet with dew from the cold earth. He chuckled, thinking how grateful he was that he'd chosen black shorts this morning.