Northenticai

its one

He screamed in deep pain. His blood pouring down his neck, trailing down his welt fingers onto the dry dust that lies beneath him. His leader looked down at him in disbelief.. his giant blue tail presented highly in the air. "you shouldn't have challenged me son your not ready.. you never will be.. your just like your mother, weak but persistent. When will you ever learn? your worthless to me and I hold no need to keep you in my territory.. your just a wasteful being you cant even evolve now what am I to do when the Slenterkin come huh? what do you-" the injured prince cuts him off. "ive tried.. you failed to protect me when I was such a vulnerable child, you left me in the humans care you took a shine to my brother but never to me and now look what has become of me hmm? they removed my genes one by one until I could no longer produce enough to take natural form. This is all because of you and your stupid bond with those mortals.. why cant you see their using our kind for battle to conquer the nations before us. They don't give a damn about this truce why cant you just take the hint already? im ashamed I have you as a father and im sure anyone else would too" he coughed up more blood and attempted to rise on his feet without any luck. The Northentican leader took a glance at his most trusted assistant and he rushed over to help the guy. The Northentican king was lost for words.. he hasn't heard his son speak to him in years and this is the first thing he hears. However.. being king, you must not show any mercy, his allies had made a promise to serve him until death do they part but in any case he shows sympathy for the weak they will turn against him and he will perish in the deserts of the northern south of this world. The rouges will be the only ones he sees before his end and they 'or so it is said' are harsh barren creatures leaving nothing behind. 

The assistant carries the princes weight on his shoulders, rushing him to the healing room. The Northentican princes head hung low and his dark brown curly hair gently brushing his nose, thick with sweat and the smell of pure defeat caused him to scrunch up his nose and sigh. The assistant sat him down on the stone bed with duck feathers and wheatgrass stuffed into the white cloth that is laid out on top of it. The prince looked up out of the small gap in the wall showing the dull sky and white sunlight that shines onto the stones below. He rubbed his eyes and and leaned the back of his head against the warm stone wall behind him. The maids rushed in with warm rags and herbs wrapped in small cotton blankets. 

(meanwhile...)

The king walked through the corridors headed to his chamber. The golden patterns that follow above the stone walls caught his eye, the beautiful carvings to form little butterflies and fun filled his head. These carvings belonged to his wife, he remembered how she would use her power to decorate the town in lush golden figures, the smiles on their faces as she danced around carefree, singing the highest notes in the village. His curiosity and craving for the past brought him to follow this golden trail, he turned and looked at the door, its been closed for years now. The wood used to keep it closed off have rotten away, its soft and weak. The king pressed his muzzle against the door and just like that.. it melted through. The door never opened, its those who the duchess trusted were the ones that were able to enter past this gold barrier. As he walked through the room his body shrunk in size and returned to his human form, his silky white mane disappeared into his hair and his eyes returned from a pale blue to a light brown. He collapsed into her seat and placed his hand on his forehead, staring into nothing.. his memories of his last duchesses sweet smile and her comforting voice. That was centuries ago.. its rare for a man to have such vivid memories of simple life in the past. But he did.

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