Chapter Text
A long, long time ago, beyond the snow capped mountain ranges and beyond the dark dense forests, in the middle of a flower filled meadow stood a glorious realm. It was known far and wide as the Kingdom of Avallum, a place of diversity and acceptance, a place where people were helped and welcomed with open arms. Standing tall this kingdom had been in power for over a millennium, and had made close allies with many of its neighbors. But bringing such peace didn't come without enemies, and there were countless up and coming realms, looking to conquer the all mighty Avallum…
——————————
In a dimly lit meeting room, late at night, sat a large court around a long rectangular table. They quietly talked amongst themselves, awaiting for the head of the table. Ranging from old and frail to young adults, people of all kinds sat, arranging their notes or talking to their fellow nobility. For this was the King's royal court, and all the people in the room had very important tasks they had to maintain for the kingdom to run smoothly.
Without warning, the entrance to the room slammed open, disrupting the chatter. The entire court stood up and dropped their heads, not looking the intruder in the eye. It was the King himself, and he gave them all an icy glare, refusing to greet them properly. Some of the court clutched their hands harder to hide their fear, others held their breath, and some simply ignored the slow echoing footsteps of the King as he walked behind them, making his way to the head of the table.
He took his seat, arranging his heavy robes carefully behind him so as to not hinder his movement. He looked over his court with a grimace, not hiding how he scrutinized certain people more than others. The newer members of the court squirmed under his gaze, unfamiliar to this behavior from the King, as this was uncharacteristic to how he usually acted. Prolonging the moment, he finally sighed, “Sit.”
Over thirty chairs immediately sat, fearing the worst, as the King was angry.
When he spoke it echoed around the room, sounding as though it came from everywhere. In this projected voice, he said, “One of you has betrayed me.” Looking around and letting the words sink in, he continued, “You have one chance to confess and tell the entire court what you did, or you will face great consequences.”
Everyone glanced around carefully, wondering who the traitor was, but no one made a move to stand up or say a word. Frustrated, the King slammed the table with his fists, making pens fall down and people jump.
“CHANCELLOR,” he bellowed.
A young man around his thirties stood up, facing the King with a glint in his eye. He served as the king's advisor and had been doing so for a couple years. “Yes your Majesty,” He spoke with an air of arrogance, words dripping from his tongue.
The King stood, the light behind him casting his shadow down across the table. “For acting as a spy and selling internal information to the Kingdom of Roya, and helping them infiltrate and cause damage to the Kingdom of Avallum, you are sentenced to execution effective immediately.” He watched as countless members of his court gasped in shock and disbelief. Even the chancellor was a little surprised that he had gotten caught, but he didn’t show a sign of regret.
“You’ll never be able to stop them your Majesty-”
“GUARDS,” the king shouted, pissed off that the man was still speaking. The guards stormed in grabbing the chancellor by the arms. “Take him to the dungeons, torture any information out of him, and when you’re done, kill him,” The King ordered.
The two guards dragged the chancellor out of the room, who kept shouting, “THEY’RE COMING FOR YOUR THRONE, IT'S OVER FOR AVALLUM, YOU FAIL-”
SLAM
The room was eerily silent as the court processed what had just happened. The King gave a final order, “Someone appoint me a new Chancellor, preferably one that has experience in diplomacy, I fear a war is looming ahead. Make preparations accordingly, Avallum will not fall, not as long as I live.”
The royal court watched him as he stormed towards the exit. He paused at the open door, and waited to hear his court stand up. They all stood waiting for his word. Without turning around he waved his hand, “Meeting Adjourned, Dismissed,” and he left, his robes flowing silently behind him.
The room erupted into chaos
***
The King let his guards walk him to his wing of the castle before dismissing them. Walking into his chambers, he unfastened his robes, dropping them to the floor, groaning from the relief of the heavy garment. Sitting at the edge of his bed, he lets his head drop in his hands, contemplating what he would do. ‘ How could I be so foolish? ’ he thought to himself.
His father had warned him from a young age to always remain cautious, to never let his guard down. He swore he wouldn’t after they stole his mother from them. Yet he became arrogant, thinking no one would dare cross him. He was wrong and he was ashamed of making such a mistake.
Unable to sit with his thoughts this late at night, he got up and strode out of his room, leaving his robes and crown behind.
He wandered the dimly lit halls, unsure where to go, quietly greeting any guards he encountered. Before he knew it the King had found his way into the portrait room. Before him in rows and rows he couldn’t count, hung portraits of all the rulers of Avallum. From the ceiling to the floor, the large ballroom was covered in paintings of nobles, divided by the five houses.
The King set his eyes on the very first portrait, the founder of Avallum.
In the portrait was a large tan skinned man with fluffy brown hair and green eyes. He wore a large feathered hat with a red sash and smiled gently, as though he held a funny secret. His black gloved hands crossed over his lap, where a colorful bird sat, though what kind of bird was hard to tell. The plaque under the portrait read King Gale of House Galleon, Ruler of Avallorium.
It was Gale, the founder of Avallum, but back then it was called Avallorium. He had not only established the kingdom, but he had also established the first of the five noble houses, House of Galleon. Regarded as a friendly man with a kind heart, despite it being over a millennium, he was still widely discussed in today's modern time. ‘ I wonder if he ever knew how much Avallum would flourish ,' Thought the King.
Moving to the next section, He set his eyes on the founder of the second house.
In this portrait was a thin man with a peachy pale skin tone and a gentle aura. He had long white hair with streaks of black, with some of it being braided. He wore simple white toga, lots of gold accessories, with a blue sash across his chest. He was not smiling but his light golden eyes and white eyelashes were still gentle and inviting. His plaque read King Cassian of House Floros, Ruler of Avallum.
Cassian was the founder of House of Floros and it was him who cultivated a large art movement in Avallum. The arts and culture in the kingdom had a revolution, and many great artists and performances were established. He had an eye for aesthetics and he made sure every pauper and noble got the opportunity to enrich their education with the fine arts. It was also him who changed the name from Avallorium to Avallum.
Moving to the next portrait, the King hesitantly laid his eyes on the third founder.
Unlike the other portraits, the man in this portrait didn’t look welcoming. The man looked thin and deathly pale, his skin appearing almost white. His hair was short and sleek black, with a white strand, and he wore a large silver crown and a black veil. His clothes were also black, with silver accents, and thin red ribbons hanging from his chest. And his eyes, a piercing bright red, bore into the back of your mind when you looked at them. The plaque read King Lucien of House Lunaris, Ruler of Avallum.
Lucien, founder of House of Lunaris, was the first ruler of Avallum to lead them through a war. Legends say before the war, Lucien was a soft spoken and kind man, but after the hardship of the First War, he became a different man. He became cold and bloodthirsty, taking no mercy on traitors or war prisoners. It was as though he had lost the memory of him before the First War. He was found dead in the dungeons a few years after the war ended, lying in a pool of his own blood, as red as his eyes.
Shuddering the chills off his shoulders, the king quickly made his way to the fourth house, no longer wanting to stare at Lucien’s eyes.
At the portrait of the fourth founder, a muscular man with fair skin and blond hair stood smiling in the light. His bright purple eyes sparkled and his toothy grin was polite. He wore very minimal clothing, and had a lot of metal buckles and belts on him. He wore an exotic black and white fur on one of his shoulders, the other showing off his arm muscles. His plaque read King Zander of House Netherbrand, Ruler of Avallum.
Zander was the founder of House of Netherbrand, regarded as the ruler who helped unite peace with other realms. He was a polite and talkative man who was known to be very charming and handsome. Rumors state that the reason he was able to get allied with so many kingdoms involved his nighttime endeavors and the way he could charm people into doing anything. But it’s all just rumors, we may never know…
Finally the King moved the final portrait section. There he looked at the founder of his House.
In the portrait sat a young man with dark skin and flaming pink hair. He had vibrant pink eyes and a scar that ran from his forehead down to his cheek. It looked garish, but the man looked happy. The Plaque says King Roscoe of House Graves, Ruler of Avallum.
Roscoe was known to be a cheerful guy with a positive demeanor, but he met his fate early before he had time to properly rule. He was tragically burned in a fire set off by the founder of what would later become another kingdom, Avallum’s enemy. Legend tells that as he burned alive he cursed the man that started the fire, declaring he would later come back and have his revenge and take them down once and for all. The man that started the fire later established the Kingdom of Roya, and ever since it has been Avallum’s sworn enemy.
The king glanced down at his portrait under the House of Graves. He grimaced as he scrutinized himself. He looked so similar to his namesake, yet not at all. In the painting he was also a young man, but his skin was a lighter tan. His hair was also a flaming pink, but the tips of his hair turned a charred black and grew out at the nape of his neck. Only one of his eyes was pink, and instead of a scar, he had a large port wine stain birthmark that made half of his face look purplish and grey. It didn’t help that as a teenager there was an accident on the day of…the event… that left him with a massive burn scar on the eye where his birthmark was, leaving it grey, half closed and half blind. His plaque read King Rosco of House Graves, Ruler of Avallum.
‘ Who’s cruel joke was it to name me after the man I look like, just uglier ’ King Rosco thought to himself. Unable to look at himself much longer he turned away, only to be met with a mirror.
Rosco felt uncomfortable as he gave himself a good look in the mirror for the first time in a long time. He was much older now, and it was much more evident on his face. He looked the same, except his hair was longer and messier, he had large eyebags and uneven stubble growing on his face.
“When was the last time I shaved or had a haircut, I look like a mess,” he muttered to himself. Walking even closer to the mirror, he looked at his scar. Even with the partial vision in his blind eye, he was still able to see the bumpy scar tissue of his burn and the deep stains of his birthmark. It looked as though he was half dead. ‘ I look like a monster ,’ he thought to himself glumly.
Rosco had always hated the murmuring, the incessant murmuring about him. People thought he was the reincarnation of the founder of House Graves. Ever since birth he was never his own person, he was just the second coming of an old king, just uglier and stupider. He hated feeling like a failure, and right now he had never felt more like a failure. Letting the enemy infiltrate Avallum, right under his own nose.
What sort of revenge prophecy was he going to fulfill if he could barely keep Roya out of Avallums walls. Feeling his anger, guilt and self hatred combine as he stared at himself, he could barely hold back.
CRACK
Blood dripped from his fist as broken mirror shards clinked onto the floor. Feeling disgusted he almost felt sorry for himself.
‘ No ,’ he thought, ‘ I’ll show them .... ’
Wiping his bloody hand on his face he stared into the cracked mirror. “For my mother, for my father, for the founder, for thinking you could make a fool of me…” he spoke to the air with a frenzy to his voice. As the blood dripped down his half disfigured face, he laughed to himself screaming at his reflection, “IM GONNA SHOW YOU ROYA FUCKERS HOW MUCH OF A MONSTER I CAN REALLY BE!”
***
Somewhere deep within a cave, a pink crystal shaped into a heart, begins to glow and beat as though alive.
“The prophecy...it's been awakened…”