A lion does not concern itself with the lesser beasts of the field, but a dragon does. For the dragon once crawled among them. The lion rules because history says it so. While the dragon hides in its dark cave. However, it is not because it must. but a choice.
A choice we must all make for peace.
--ASF
ONCE UPON A TIME.
In the absence of celestial politics entangling itself back with human affairs, four heirs were inseparable—Rhyssand, Jacqures, Azreaphel, and Jullian. A bond forged in their young adult days of training, and became elite warriors and protectors, like their ancestors before them, each bringing something unique to protect the balance of the realms passed down from their parents, but also faced with the consequences that followed.
Rhyssand was the inheritor of the title Wrath, but he was anything but. He was the strategist, gifted with a natural brilliance and always four steps ahead. Jacques bore the title Gluttony. He was also their moral compass, but when need be, a fearless fighter with unmatched strength but unwavering kindness. Jullian was Lust, though quiet; he was always fascinated by the intricacies of the mortal and divine. Azreaphel did not have such a sin. Though he was welcomed within the brotherhood. The heirs of Sloth and Pride were both in their respective realms, still staying true to their vow of separation. However, there was one realm that would soon call to action. Thatcould have been avoided a long time ago.
When word of the prophecy reached him, Mār'dus'kihiyah was newly crowned King of the Gods. He laughed. "No one but I shall pass judgment upon my people."
And so, it was then that A final realm was forded, the Demon realm. Born of the very first sin. Envy. The Demon Realmwas meant to be a place of exile and punishment for all sinners. They were to be cast into its depths for their crimes. Many celestials were dragged into this new realm. Their wings were reduced to ash, as with the little that remained of their angelic nature.
The King, believing himself above the passage of time, declared, "Let your sentence be judged again in… 500 years."
Little did they know time… was taken as well. On the celestial king's deathbed, he passed on his power to his son, along with his final decree:
"Once a sinner, always a sinner."
Centuries later, the demon realm sought atonement, a chance to no longer be divided from their heritage, their home. But they were refused by the current Monarch, Ishtar, and her council.
"Once a sinner—Always— a sinner"
The demons bore no branded title. They did not start the war centuries ago, only followed their leader's orders, and yet someone needed to be blamed… And they had gotten the short end of the stick.
No more.
This led to the first Realm War. They breached the celestial borders in numbers, and the heirs were tasked with holding the line, and they would have held it. If not for a second, Betrayal that day. Jillian laid down his blade, refusing to fight. He believed in redemption, and he would stand by it. For his treason, he was imprisoned to be put on trial.
It was during this conflict that Rhyssand devised a plan—a risky one, but one he believed would save them all. "We strike at the heart of the invasion," he had said. "Jacques, you will lead the charge while Azreaphel and I flank their commander. They will not know what hit them."
Azreaphel had hesitated, sensing the danger, "That would put our defense at risk, including Jace, now that they have celestial steel—"
Jacques clapped a hand on both his and Rhyssand's shoulders. "I have looked death in the eye every weekend," he chuckled, "My mother trusts you, as do I. Brothers."
They nodded in agreement.
The battle was chaotic. Demonic forces overwhelmed them far faster than Rhyssand had predicted. Jacqures led as promised, his blade carving through enemies with righteous fury. But the commander of the demon army had anticipated their strategy. Most likely from the help of their fallen brother.
Just then, Rhyssand felt it. A pain in his chest, unlike anything he's ever felt before, but he was not hurt physically, unless— he spun around scanning the battlefield. Then he saw the reason. A lance of darkness tore through Jacques, impaling his chest, the tip erupting from his back and cleaving through his wings.
Time seemed to freeze.
The battlefield faded around him. All Rhyssand could see was his brother suspended in the air, eyes wide, "Rhys…" His voice echoed through their minds. "Be happy… Brother, for me."
The moment Jacqures hit the earth, his light snuffed out. It was too late, for there was nothing left of the Prince of Death. Rhyssand screamed his name, but it was nothing from what came from the underworld.
Azreaphel froze, staring at the battlefield. When he finally processed what had happened, Rhyssand was already charging toward the enemy commander in a blind rage, his power consuming everything in his path.
The iron bars in the celestial dungeons groaned open. Jullian gazed upon the dawn pressed at the horizon, knowing this was the last time he would see the sun so close again, let alone feel it.
Rhyssand stepped in quietly, "What are you doing, Jules?" he pleaded.
Jullian chuckled, though he did not look at him."Save your breath, Rhys. I am not sucking the council's dick," he exhaled. "It is over."
Rhyssand's jaw clenched, "Jace is gone—" he snapped, "you saw him fall! Must you let me see you fall, too?"
Jullian finally turned, his golden eyes softening."I want to fall."
"You are spouting nonsense—" Rhyssand stepped forward, his wings trembling. "Do you know what you will become?"
"Free…" Jullian whispered. "All my life, I have been different," he sighed, "You know what you are destined to be. I do not. But what I do know is that I have no wish to be the brain behind slaughtering innocents! Those are our brothers and sisters, too. What kind of man would I be, raising my blade to such blasphemous orders? The very same orders that made our ancestors sinners!"
"Please…" Rhyssand gripped the bars as he pleaded once more.
But Jullian only shook his head. "Ask me again when those bitches are dead," he chukled once more, "You will make a good king one day, Rhys, with or without me."
The sound followed soon after was the deep toll of the bell. The hour of judgment was near. "Well then," Jullain said upon rising, "looks like it is time for me to leave the nest… even if I have no wings to fly. At least…" he lifted his gaze toward the bleeding horizon, "The sun still rises from below."
The verdict was unanimous. Jullian would be exiled, forced to become a demon himself; others believed him to be dead, devoured by the creatures he sought to protect.
It was during this time that Ishtarapproached them both. She whispered of an opportunity, Vengeance. A family that, through one person, carried the promise of restoration. "The girl's existence is a stain—" she hissed, "So long as the blood of the first beast runs through her veins, the curse will fester, plaguing not only the human realm but the city of light. What should happen if we were to fade into darkness?"
Azreaphel was quick to align with her, earning himself the title of right-hand man. To Rhyssand, it was a chance to release his wrath.
At first, He watched from afar, sending his 'eyes in the sky' to observe the Crown Princess's movements. For the plan. He had convinced himself. But in truth, it was more than that. He repeated the words Jullian spoke to him in his head over and over, and he was right. He needed to see for himself the evil he was told she would bring to justify his future actions; he needed to be sure. But never was… He saw her sparring with her brother, the sharpness in her strikes betraying her ruthlessness, yet the laughter that followed softened the edge, even when she struck hard enough to leave him bruised. This could not be the power the celestial council was afraid of, so he waited. Until he saw her painting quietly at night, only to train more fiercely after, wielding a strength she never once turned against her brother. He saw her kindness by day: slipping food to the hungry with no audience, tending the gardens as though every petal carried a soul worth saving. Never evil. It did not make sense to him. None of it did.
Nevertheless, his instructions were clear. Regardless of what he saw, his opinion in this matter meant little to no one. He had planned it precisely. A false ambush. A fatal 'accident.' Her brother would be heir; the dynasty would still live on without innocents being scarified. A mercy, he told himself. A quieter death than the one that awaited her, should he fail. He could not be a part of it, just as much as he would not allow it. So when the moment came to strike her down, it was better than he hoped; the knights and the Prince were unconscious, there would be no witnesses, no one to blame, nor anyone to remember. Until she spoke to him, all of a sudden, his gifted brain unexpectedly stopped functioning.
"Please—I need it." Artizea pleaded.
Rhyssand could not remember what he came here to do. Do not fall for it.He told himself, Get it done. clenching his jaw, "Why?" He blurted out, against his will.
"I need to know the truth! About who I am. What I am—"
Rhyssand's eyes instantly widened in horror beneath the carefully crafted mask he wore, just for her. Not only did she not know about the prophecy. She did not know what she was.. But how can that be? She was the vessel of Tiamat's blood. A curse given flesh. His Mortal Enemy. Literally andyet, what he found instead was a human woman. half celestial, yes, but deeply human. Strong and Fierce, burdened by her lineage. A lineage she knew nothing about. She was good. She was kind, and above all, she deserved to live.
I will not let you do that,he thought bitterly. "Then I suppose we won't find out, will we?"
"No—don't—"
I have to.
CRACK
"Why!?" Artizea yelled.
"Sometimes, not knowing the truth is an act of mercy," he breathed out. Or else I will have to kill you… with my own hands.
However, his mother's plans unfolded flawlessly despite his efforts.
Rhyssand found himself staring at the cracks He had helped create along the way in self-hatred. He watched Artizea pace the castle halls in worry for Eugene, Arthur's guilt, the look on Elaine's frightened face, but what ripped him apart was when he listened to the quiet sorrow in the king's voice when apart from the queen, and her quiet sobs, only to hear Ishtar giggling with delight.
This was for Jace? For justice? for balance? It was then that Rhyssand felt the weight of his choices. This was no longer revenge. This was torture.
He had a duty. But he also had a heart. And it had not stopped beating the moment he laid eyes on her, nor for a moment of rest since. He had been sent to kill her, but he could not. Because Artizea Pendragonwas not the monster they claimed her to be, and if he could protect her long enough, if he could save her from her fate and the schemes of the gods, until her true purpose comes to light. Then maybe, just maybe, he could atone for the Sin he carried within himself. This was his doing, not his ancestors.
It was settled then.
He would play the long game. Feed Ishtar half-truths, he would keep Azreaphel's growing bitterness at bay, all while secretly protecting Artizea from the shadows. However, his actions would soon be discovered eventually, and before he knew it, he was facing a man who had once been his brother-in-arms.
"We were supposed to kill her—the whole dammed dynasty!" Azeraphel spat, "That was the plan! Rhyssand! That was the Vow we made together!"
"I vowed to bring justice, not slaughter the innocent." Rhyssand met his gaze.
"She is not innocent, she carries the lives and deaths for the past 500 years, she is a vessel, Rhys!" Azreaphel growled, "A vessel of death that will bring ruin to everything we fight for—everything Jace died for!"
"You are starting to sound exactly like my father."
"What father? That man does not give a damn about you—or this realm—"
"Nope, still my Mother." Rhyssand sighed.
"Your mother is the only one who gives a shit, Rhys. She's the only one who can save us; She is our queen. And right now, you have forced me to disobey my sovereign's orders— the one order that could have made us great again. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you in for treason."
Rhyssand stepped forward, his expression calm but resolute. "Killing her will not save us, Az, there is another way…one that benefits us."
Azeraphel scoffed. "That is a myth, and you know it."
"It is not. Her father is living proof that it can be done. And because of the degree…She will die after—her body won't withstand the incompatibility—but before that, we will have what we need. A bridge, a permanent opening within a sky that always belonged to us."
"Then you should know there is a price for you too."
"I will pay it."
"So you have lost your mind." Azeraphel chuckled. "How far will you fall for heaven?"
"As far as I must," Rhyssand answered evenly. "For the greater good…"
"What does the Queen think of this?" Azreaphel snapped.
"If I tell her, she will do it her way." Rhyssand shot him a glare, "You know what she is capable of…" which meant Shut the fuck up.
Azreaphel's jaw tightened until it cracked. His gaze burned. "Then prove it. Prove you are still on our side. Prove you will fight for Jace. That you are not a traitor… like Jullian, or so help me Mār'dus'keshiah, I will do everything in my power that is necessary in ripping your wings off myself—"
Rhyssand just stopped there, motionless, "Human women are said to be very fertile; it should not take long," then turned to leave, for there was nothing more to say. For what could he? What difference would it make? He knew his actions and hesitations had long sent events into motion that could not be undone. Upon watching her, he realized something that terrified him to the core. He had doomed himself. He could never ask for her love nor forgiveness, nor could he ever accept it—even if, by some miracle, she offered it freely. Not after everything he had done and still planned to do, to her, to her family. Her kingdom. All the things she held so dear.
But if one is to truly win at the chess of kings, one must perish the notion of pawns, knights… even the queen. Fate is no sovereign's ally, for the simple fact it took no sides. Victory belonged only to the mind cunning enough to rewrite the verdict and get away with it. And should defeat call thy birth-given name… seize the table itself, and turn the board to thy favor.
Now, upon The Pendragon's Palace's peak, he waited for the final piece to fall into place. She will hate him for it; they allwould. Nevertheless, the sacrifice had already been made since the very beginning. He knew how this story would end, and love had no place within it. The abandonment of any sliver of Victory was necessary, for it would not soothe the inevitable end, when one of them lay dead. And so, he gave all but one command.
"Fin."
"Yes, lord Rhyssand."
"Find Arthur." Rhyssand said, lifting his gaze to the stars, "Make sure he hears everything."