Just Simply A Complication

Blood Runs Like Ice

"Malu wait I-"

"I know, Zerreus. But everything will be fine, I promise," coos the silver haired boy. He smiles reassuringly at his older brother, purple eyes shining in the surreal lighting.

"Please...don't go yet. I don't think I can make it so long without you." Tears freeze to his face as the prince reaches out, pleading desperately.

Malu moves his pale purple hand to wipe his brothers cheek. Knock knock knock.

Zerreus gasps, eyes fluttering open. "Just another nightmare," mumbles the sleepy prince.

"Your highness," a muffled voice exclaims, "your father wishes to see you! I've brought your robes!" Zedan waits patiently outside, clutching a bundle of carefully folded silky robes.

"Erm...," the surprised prince looks in the large mirror mounted on his wall, quickly peeling ice off his cheeks. "Leave them at my door, Zedan, I'll be out immediately."

He slides out of his velvet sheets and plucks a brush from his nightstand. Running the brush through his long white hair, Zerreus sighs. What could father possibly have in store for him?

Waiting until footsteps fade, the prince waits patiently, ear pressed to the door. He quickly slips out and snatches up the garments, more silent than a mouse.

Cuffing his pale wrists with silver bracelets, the prince seats himself on his bed. Silky robes drape naturally over his toned chest as he ties a knot across his waist. Zerreus helps his wings poke through his garments, avoiding the chain catching the fabric.

Fixing some jewels to his horns, the prince allows his thoughts to wander. It had been around six months when he was last called from his quarters. A sudden call is never a good sign.

Zerreus stands, walking barefoot to his door. The guards outside accompany him to the grand hall, brandishing their spears menacingly. 

His escorts stop as they reach the ominously large doors, pulling them open. They follow the prince inside, stopping just inside the room.

Zerreus approaches the throne, eyes on the floor. Kneeling before the throne, he raises his gaze to meet his fathers.

"You may rise, my son." Argrok speaks in a thunderous tone, asserting his dominance over the nearly empty room. He sits upright in his throne, not eating nor drinking during his meeting. The prince knows this omen is a bad one.

Zerreus stands and brings his arms back to his front, looking up into his father's eyes. "What have you requested of me, father?"

"You are nearly old enough to claim position as king," he picks a sliver of meat from in between his fangs, "and there is but one thing to fix." He waves his hand as a signal to the guards.

"What is it my lo-"

Guards force the prince to his knees, holding him down by his shoulders and head. Taken by surprise, it is too late to stop them.

"Father! What the hell!?" Zerreus thrashes around in the grip of the armored guards, snarling.

"I told you, boy, you must be prepared for role as king." He steps off his throne, pulling a double-bladed axe from its place on the wall. He waltzes over to the scene before him.

Now standing above the cowering prince, he tears the chains from his son's wings, earning him a pained cry.

The guards stretch the prince's webbed appendages so they're mostly opened up.

"Please...stop," begs the prince as he struggles. He was now at the mercy of a heartless tyrant.

Zerreus looks up at his father, fighting the hands gripping his scalp and the urge to cry. He sees the dull spatters of dried blood on the axe's back blade. Argrok swings it above his head, grinning mercilessly.

"That's-NO!" He let's out a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks.

As rage bubbles up with in the prince, a massive wave of energy courses through his body, smashing into the guards with crackling lightning. They fly back and crash into the hard floor, shivering where they lie.

Zerreus launches himself at his father, wings instinctively helping him push off. He collides with the larger demon's broad chest, knocking him to the ground.

In temporary shock at what his son just did, the king was taken off guard. His mind buzzes with questions.

The prince grabs onto his father's tusks, breaking one of them off. "That was for lying to me," he grunts.

Inraged and out of his trance, the king throws the prince off him. He gets to his feet and wipes blood off his bottom lip, smearing it into his chin. "I am very displeased with you," he growls menacingly.

Twisting nimbly in the air, Zerreus lands on his hands and feet, quickly jumping up to standing. "Be displeased, then. You've done enough harm." He bares his teeth, revealing the sharp ones normaly hidden behind his cheeks.

"You will be severely punished for your actions, you ungrateful brat." The king swings the weapon to his shoulder in preparation to use it. He charges towards his son, brandishing the axe with fire in his icy eyes.

Argrok throws his weapon at the prince, sending it spinning through the cold air.

Zerreus rolls to the side and dodges the attack. The axe cuts deep into the stone behind him with a loud Crack.

Running towards his father, the prince watches his opponent, waiting for his next move.

The king makes a swipe for the boy's head, his fist brushing through soft white hair as Zerreus ducks.

The boy turns his dodge into an attack, twisting his body around in a roundhouse kick. He makes contact with his father's side, getting no reaction from the king.

A quick jab to the lower jaw sends the prince crashing to the floor, stunned. His vision twists and turns, head throbbing violently.

The approaching footsteps sound muffled and distorted, as well as his father's smooth voice.

"You see? You're weak. You could never even dream of besting me."

Zerreus tries to scramble backwards, his ears ringing. He attempts to speak, but unintelligible blabbering escapes his lips.

The prince hears the axe being pulled from the wall. The last thing he sees is the butt of the weapon being slammed into his skull.

---

With a jolt, Zerreus wakes on his chest. He lays on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The room is completely vacant, the axe fixed back on its mantle above the king's throne.

He lets out a weak groan, rolling himself onto his back. When he makes contact with the floor, he feels a searing pain on his back. He reaches to touch where his wings would normally be. In their place are two deep gashes, still slowly oozing blood.

His wings were gone. And suddenly, it dawned on him.

This is no place for me.