Prelude - The Mad King

King Jonathan was tall, his muscles sculpted into perfection effortlessly, with long brown hair that fell down his shoulders, and hazel eyes that could melt the hearts of almost every woman. He was seductive, intoxicating, and built like a sex deity.

If only he wasn't quite so mad, he'd be a good catch. We start our story long after he accidentally killed his first wife, at the moment when his mind broke. When Queen Rosaline had been alive, he had been kind, and capable of love. Benevolent and kind, the king for the first 25 years of his life saw to it that the kingdom had everything it needed.

But Queen Rosaline did not feel the same. She was forced to marry Jonathan who at the time was only the prince as a young girl, when she turned of age. Her parents sold her dowry to the king and queen's son, and she did as she was told, as most girls did. After all, during these times the only purpose of a daughter was to wed the highest status or the highest bidder, and bear children. Ultimately, at the end of the day, it was Jonathan's childhood best friend she was in love with.

And he felt the same. The boy who had been raised alongside the king as an adopted brother was in love with the king's wife. And living along side her in the castle as part of the king's court and an advisor didn't help the two stay away from each other. They met often in empty chambers, in carriages, or wherever a moment they could find a moment alone. Unfortunately, servants have ears and eyes...and mouths.

Rumors eventually find their way through stone walls, and the king caught the whisper of the infidelity of his wife. When he found them together, his 'best' friend fled, though he did not get far. Jonathan took his hands and laid them on his wife, violently, repeatedly. Before he could stop himself, he was looking at her battered, bloody corpse, her green eyes wide open in a permanent gaze of a terrified scream.

But his pain was not satiated. His most trusted friend, the one who had been by his side since childhood, his advisor, his confidant was dragged back before him by guards by the order of the King. And Jonathan allowed his wife's body to be displayed before him, his blank eyes and expressionless face watching the anguish of his friend's own face.

"How could you? She was your wife..." At these words, Jonathan's face contorted into a sick grin, and he laughed.

"My wife? My wife? That was my wife? No, my old friend. She was more than that. She was the love of my life. I've never even had a mistress... I'm the king. I could have as many as I wanted if I wanted. But no... I chose her as a young man because she was my sun and my moon. She was my world. And you lay with her. For how long I almost wonder? How long was my wife, and the man I knew to be like a brother, betraying me?"

His words were thick with malice, the hatred practically dripping with each word. The pupil of his eyes were small, his eyes wide. As Jonathan spoke, his mouth foamed a little more with every word. Those wide, intense and wild eyes were staring down at his shaking hands that were covered in Rosaline's blood.

"But I don't care. It doesn't matter how long it happened. The only thing that matters... is that it did. Chain him to the roof of the tallest tower. And leave him there. Let the predators of the sky pick his bones clean."

"Wait! Jonathan! No! Please I-" But the begging man was dragged away. And still, the pain was still not satiated.

Jonathan's pain was so prominent, so thick, his anguish something that nothing could extinguish. And maybe time would have healed him. Maybe one day he could have been forgiven for his sins. Maybe one day he would have found someone to heal the deep wounds inflicted upon his heart when his true love hurt him.

But unfortunately for every single soul under King Jonathan's domain, in a forgotten vault beneath the castle, sealed off by stone and mortar as its tomb, a demon was kept. A demon that Jonathan's great-great-grandfather had defeated long before his birth. A legend that people had thought to be a fable. It was contained in a blessed jeweled urn the demon could feel the pain even miles below the surface of the palace grounds. Over time it was forgotten, and caretakers forgot about the place where it was kept. A small earthquake knocked the urn off its pedestal, and it cracked upon the stone floor of the room it was kept. And it was through that crack that the demon was able to awaken to the sensation of Jonathan's outburst. The violence exploding above the demon, the snapping of a mind, and the loss of all morality for a mortal soul were enough to call attention to the immortal being that had been sealed for almost 200 years.

The violence and hate were sweet and glorious to the beast below the castle. And so, it began to feed. The twisted pain carved a straight connection into Jonathan's mind to the demon, who grew stronger. And Jonathan began to sink deep into a blackness. His anguish became a hatred for everything and everyone. He began raising the levy on the taxes. He stopped providing for his people. As poverty and sickness began to run rampant throughout his entire kingdom, the anguish of the people also began to feed the demon. Even the rain seemed to know to avoid Jonathan's kingdom, for it hasn't rained since that day.

The demon whispered in Jonathan's mind until he no longer had to whisper into the mad king's ear, Jonathan's warped and broken mind began to feed on its own darkness. And as time went on, he only became crueler, and madder. And his people, even the richest, continued to suffer.