Heir to the throne

~•Prologue•~

The day began like any other, with the city of tears buzzing with life as bugs of different sizes moving across the streets. The Pale King would be watching his kingdom from his balcony but something else began to take his attention, the birthing of a league. The pale king watched as each was brought into the hollownest but each gained his dislike despite two, both haven't been given a name but have been raised by the pale king. All was peaceful until one of the two gained a mind of his own, rebelling against his father and sibling he abandoned the hallownest vowing to return after a tiring battle against his kin. However, before he left a detour was made towards the one that wasn't tarnished by his hate. Arriving to the queen's garden he travels to the northwest section to find a cocoon like dwelling that contains a significant item to his being, the white lady or his mother. Laying his weapon outside the dwelling he enters the cocoon through a passage way on his knees due to his height. After crawling through the cramped passage he soon finds himself in front of the women he loves with his heart, standing to his feet he walks forward setting a hand upon her lap before pressing his own head against hers' as his fingers glide over the binds on her body in remorse. The others that fallen just so he and the vessel can be turned into some kind of prison. Muttering a final goodbye to her he leaves the cocoon before making his way to Dirtmouth. Coming to the exit of his home he looks to his sides in gloom, to leave a place he grown in was a challenging task he made but nonetheless, hardening his core he climbs to the top of the well before entering Dirtmouth. The ground beneath his feet gave under his weight leaving a imprint before he moves forward towards King's pass, nail hoisted on his back with his cloak fashioned to cover his torso down to his hips as he moved forward. This marked the day of his abandonment as heir and protector however he'll return years later.

~• Timeskip •~

Dirtmouth, a desolate town at the well entrance of with king's pass nearby. A single figure stood at the cliffs edge overlooking the town from above, shaking their head before moving back into the cliff to what can be described as a camp.

Taking a seat on the gravel floor of the cliff he picks up a single rock before tossing it lightly up to see it's weight. Nodding he grabs something over his shoulder holding the rock infront of him. In a single swipe and a upward toss a scythe strikes the rock creating sparks in the air, falling to the ground into a pile of wood causing a little flame to sprout in the center as the rock lands a foot away separated into two pieces. The flame in the pile soon grows larger until the figure is revealed, a lanky bug stood with his right arm extended outward holding the scythe's handle before he sighed. This is Y/n, or as some called him the deserter, taking refuge at king's pass for now seeing as most of the building in Dirtmouth is boarded up to the point that it would be too tiring or it will bring the building down onto him.

As he sat there clinging to the single clothe he had since his departure, repaired by stitches he was taught by a traveler on his journey, for warmth with the fire. Though the air was cold he still a familiar scent that had gone stale, with a flicker of the flame it shows thin orange streaks in the empty sockets as he watches the flame flickers. Y/n soon cringed as he gripped his head standing to his feet as a single nightmarish image haunts him, a vessel gripping for life to the balconies edge as he looks towards them. A blank and vacant stare before the vessel soon fell within the inky black pit below him, in desperation he leaps forward to try and clutch the vessels hand.

Much like any occurring nightmare he never succeeds and is forced to watch the vessel fall deeply into the pit. Flashing back into reality swiping at the flame immediately diminishing the flame. Y/n panted and wheeze as he looked at the dieing flame in fear, a memory of the other vessels that died because of his father's way.

Sheathing the scythe back onto his back before looking towards Dirtmouth, the town he had passed in the past looked abandoned bring a heavy heart to him to see it in such a state. Walking to the cliffs edge he looks down before taking a single breath before leaping to the ground below.

Landing on the ground with a powerful thud he bends his knees to absorb the shock as he rests his hands on his thighs before using them to stand back up. Looking down the path he follows the lights ahead of him, along the path he takes a sudden jolt of pain erupts from his foot causing him to shout lifting it upwards holding it as Y/n gently rubs the aching away. Y/n's back turned from whatever caused him pain be he growl and immediately turns to glare at what caused it.

Nothing, no enemy or obstacle infront of him until a shimmer catches his eye. Halfway consumed into the dirt under him stood a single geo, scratching at the dirt around it he finally gets the geo out of the ground and brought up to inspect it. A million thoughts run through his mind as he inspects it such as how it got here, who would travel out this far and why would someone misplace such a important currency until he soon looks at it in understanding. The geo was the same one that tripped him up when he first left the Dirtmouth, as he was making his way out he recalls tripping over something causing him to fall forward and collide with the earth below him.

With renewed vigor, and a hint of aggression, y/n stuffs the goes away in his cloak before venturing forward towards Dirtmouth to begin a adventure of a life time.

If you're reading this then congrats on reading my first official chapter of Heir to the throne. After every chapter I will put commentary on each telling of my experience with writing it and for this one I will say I feel invigorated to actually make this. Hope you all enjoy and see you in chapter one! 😊

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