Chapter Text
In a kingdom far, far away in another dimension different from our own, there was a crown prince. The crown prince was known by his kingdom as Arthur. At the ripe age of sixteen he was seen as an adult, as were many others during this time period. They didn't have machines or medicines like we do today. Instead, they have dragons, mysterious plants, and gods they pray to. Their world might not be as advanced as ours but they don’t have the need to be. Magic fills the void of machines and magic plants take place for lab made medicines and vaccines.
In the palace of Camelot, sixteen years ago, a woman gave birth to a male heir, or mostly male. When he opened his eyes for the first time his mother could only stare in awe at the sight of his eyes. They were as green as enchanted emeralds. She had never seen eyes so beautiful outside of the fey in their world. She believed that she was blessed with a beautiful child. With her son pressed to her bare chest as he cooded at her, she couldn’t help but fall in love with him. Then a name came to her and the baby was soon named Arthur. Many of the maids thought the name was fitting for the boy as his birth spread joy across the kingdom.
The king, known as Alaric, was ecstatic to find that his first born had been a boy. During these times women were seen as nothing more than bridges between families. They should be obedient, seen but not heard as the saying goes. Their duty was to serve their husband and the other men in the household. They were meant to clean and give their husbands kids. Having a daughter as a royal was dangerous because it gave other men the opportunity to wiggle their way into the royal family with the possibility of taking not only the throne but the whole bloodline. This was the main reason that the daughters of royal families were only allowed to marry other royals.
The young boy was given the best education, the best training, and the most luxurious clothes that money could buy. He was raised to be a strong and intelligent man that would someday make a great king. His mother taught him things more valuable than battle strategies and pointless history. She taught him compassion. She was born at the bottom of the hierarchy and was seen as less than dirt by the people more fortunate than her. She wore rags that were passed down from her mother and through her sisters until it made its way to her. Her hair was covered in dirt and she didn't have the luxury of hot baths and soap. Instead, she had to take cold baths in the lake and put on the same nasty rags that she always wore. She would rummage through trash just to help put food on the table. The worst part about being poor was the way you were treated by the people above you. They are cruel and they don’t care for the people below them. To the nobles the poor were not considered Mobians.
The queen instilled her son with compassion and understanding. He learned about the horrors the people of his future kingdom had to endure and wanted to help them someday. He saw them for what they truly were, Mobians. They were Mobians regardless if they were more unfortunate than he was. Every year when he would outgrow or have unused clothes he would donate them to his people. It didn't take long before he was adored by the commoners of the kingdom. He always showed them kindness and helped them despite their rank. To him they were equal.
Sadly, around the age of ten his mother fell ill and became bedridden. She had a dangerous sickness that if not treated soon would become fatal. There was only one cure for her illness, The Devil’s blood root. Though its name might seem scary it is only a flower with red and spiky looking roots. The petals are vibrant red according to legend. The only thing about the plant, and the main reason it has its name, is where it is located. It can only be found in the obsidian desert. The sand as black as night and sparkles like shards of glass. It is home to many dangerous monsters, such as demons and the dark fey. These dark fey are not as kind as their lighter counterparts.
Young Arthur begged his father to let him join the party to retrieve the Devil’s blood root. He was unshaken by the possible dangers. He would do anything if it meant saving his mother. With some reluctance but much pride, King Alaric allowed Arthur to join him and the party. The journey to the Obsidian Desert was a long winding path that went through countrysides and mellow forests. In total it took about five days before the party reached the black sand. It was right before dawn and when the sun started to rise so did the heat. The rays from the sun quickly heated up the black sand. It was like being in the bowels of hell. The perfect place for devils, it reminds them of their home in hell. The smell of the desert isn’t helped either by the heat. The smell of decay and death becomes more potent as the hot sun heats up the rotting corpses.
After four long days, and several casualties, they eventually found the flower in the heart of the palace of the dark fey. They looked in through a tiny window that was located on the outside of the palace. In the garden littered with black roses and various other scary looking plans, in the middle lies the Devil’s blood flower. It was guarded by stone walls that rose high, far too high for any normal Mobian to climb. The path to the flower seemed hopeless until a small crack was spotted on the lower part of the wall. No one in the party would be able to fit through such a small space, well almost. Arthur being the smallest, and youngest, of the party volunteered to climb through the hole. With a breath in to calm his buzzed nerves he got down on the knees and put his head through the tight crevice of the wall.