Fated

Liam walked down the corridor, chest puffed out in pride and satisfaction. A family meeting. He was most likely the topic of discussion, of course. He chuckled under his breath, the royal robe flowing out behind him. As crown prince of the Fatelands, his future was their future, and their future was completely up to him.
As soon as his father handed down that bloody glass crown. The thing shined as if it had absorbed a star or two, and the points were so pristine, they looked like diamonds. The reason for the lump of glass’ ongoing existence was that it somehow survived every ruler’s head. Now, every ruler (as far as Liam knew) had been a demon, or at least a minor demon (like his filth-blooded brother). And the royal family’s demons especially had the ability to control flames. Blue ones. But that crown had never melted, not once.
As Liam approached the banquet hall’s towering doors, the guards looked up at his presence. One bowed a second too soon, and was immediately a pile of ashes on the floor. The execution had surprised the other guard, who reached for the knob two seconds too late, and he joined his partner in a smoldering heap. “If you want something done…” Liam hissed to himself. “You must go through with it on your own.”
The doors burst open, and his family looked up. There was Father, the glass crown atop his black hair, a family trait, and his red eyes fixed on Liam’s face. On his left sat Mother, her platinum blonde hair curling down her shoulders, her porcelain face staring down at her hands. Of course she wouldn’t actually appear for this. She was Mother. The only reason she was sitting there was because of the child sitting next to her. The Disgrace, as he and Umbrin called it. Blonde bangs hanging down in front of blue eyes, pale skin, thin-framed… Even it knew that The Disgrace was fitting. Umbrin sat across from Quill (for that was The Disgrace’s true name) and was watching a tiny blue flame skip across his fingers.
Liam sat down in the seat between Umbrin and the king, and took a deep breath. “Allow for the meeting to commence,” he and his father announced at the same time, earning him a glare from the ruler.
“You do not have the right to announce a Blackthorn meeting,” he growled.
“Not yet, Father. My time- or at least your time is soon to come,” Liam smiled.
The king cleared his throat, ignoring him. “Now, then. I’ve heard that a minor kitsune has been loitering about the castle. Boys, do you know anything?”
Liam snorted. “As if I would hang out with such scum. I already hang out with minor species, who needs more?”
Umbrin huffed. “Mind your words, brother. Even you are not a full demon. At least I hold more potential than…” His red gaze slid to Quill, and he paused. “I… I have seen her out and about more than a couple of times… I’ve, er… shared some words with the girl.”
All gazes snapped to him. “About what?” Mother whispered, the cracks splintering through the room as her fragile lips moved. Her glass blue eyes glowed faintly, the spirit within starting to get excited. Umbrin paused again. “Uhm… About the future of the Fatelands.”
Liam narrowed his eyes. “You… You know that you will never have control of that, don’t you? DON’T YOU?” He stood, and a vase full of yellow flowers fell off the blue tablecloth, the white china shattering across the stone floor. “I will be in control of that! I WILL!” Liam blinked, slowing down his breath and looking around at the bewildered faces. “Excuse me.” He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
The hallway view sprawled back out in front of him, Liam huffed. The fact that the minor had been even prodding at the thought of ruling the Fatelands… Liam roared and punched a nearby statue, the stone threatening to break apart beneath his fist. A mistake. He could feel his soul ebbing out of his being, and could soon see the pale body fall to the floor. An ability he had never asked for, of course. His mother had passed it on to him. The power to possess anything- or anybody. His mother said, ‘don’t do that, it is a disgrace to the family power’, although it was not the family power whatsoever.
Suddenly, the sound of the banquet hall door creaking open rang through the corridor. The statue head only pointed forward, and the impatience in Liam started to grow at an alarming rate. A blonde head strode into view, and looked down at the body on the ground. The Disgrace knelt beside it, and Liam watched in a mixture of horror and disgust. Quill stroked his hair, then took something out of his pocket. A glass knife with a gold handle, a blood-red ruby set at the base. Liam growled inwardly. That was the knife he was going to use to take the throne.
It would be amazingly ironic when the glass ruler was killed by a glass weapon… And then Liam would be the greatest ruler of all. He just had to retrieve the blade before-
Liam felt a splintering pain in his soul as he watched the horrific scene occurring before him. He could feel the connection between his soul and the corpse laying on the floor ebb away, until it was gone completely. Quill stood, looking down at the handy work, then walked away.
The carpet was stained a deep red, and Liam could barely comprehend what had just happened before his stone eyes. Quill- The Disgrace itself- had just killed the Crown Prince! Had killed him! Liam could only look on in confusion, until someone passed by. It was Mother. She looked down at the body, and her head tilted to the side ever so slightly before she knelt before her eldest son. Tears welled up in her glass eyes, and she looked up at the statue. “It’s okay…” she whispered. “It is for the best, my dear…”
Quill walked back in, and Mother smiled. “Finally… Darling, let us leave.” Quill nodded, and they left as soon as they had come. Liam could only watch and hope someone came to help him. Finally, his father and a group of guards ran into view. Father stepped in the puddle and recoiled immediately. “Disgusting,” he hissed. “Get it out of here.”
The guards went to work, and Father beckoned to something behind him before walking away, being sure to step around the mess with the delicateness of a dancer. Umbrin passed by soon after, looking bored and not caring how much blood he stepped in. Of course. Now that Liam had passed (in the eyes of the kingdom), Umbrin would be Crown Prince. That…
Liam shoved the thoughts out of his head. Not possible. He was the only one that would take the throne, the only one! First, he had to get out of the statue. But the only way to de-possess something would be to touch something else. He would possess the pedestal, but the energy used would propel him into the floor, where his soul would painfully pull apart as it tried to possess everything in the castle.  He was foolish to punch something in his fit of rage. This never would have happened otherwise. But… If he could possess a living being, he could stay in that body until a better opportunity came.
So Liam waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Just when he thought that there was no hope for him, a maid rushed in. She had strange, indigo hair, and misty eyes. She swallowed at the sight of the blood, her face pale. She looked as though she would faint, and she leaned against the statue. As the stone head toppled, Liam reached out with his soul, and then his vision went black.
Hello?
Greetings. Liam opened his eyes, or rather the girl’s eyes. I am Liam. Now, then. Become my vessel.
No thank you, the girl said (or thought, rather). I’m Ashe, and I would rather not. I wouldn’t get my raise.
I AM YOUR PRINCE, YOUR FUTURE RULER, Liam’s thoughts burst out, and Ashe flinched. You will listen to me.
But Your Highness… I… Can’t there be… What’s the word…? Ashe paused. ‘Comp-ro-mise’…?
Liam thought for a moment, observing the girl’s train of thought. She was smarter than he’d thought her out to be. If he could… I suppose… He looked at her shadow. He had never tried it, but… He was already mostly dead. Reaching out, he allowed her shadow to envelop him, allowed himself to envelop it. He could feel the darkness around him, and he grinned. This would be fun, no?
Umbrin gazed out the window, watching the fog coil and unfurl, twist and turn. He was Crown Prince now, and for some odd reason, Quill and Mother had left. It had been about a week since Liam had died, and Father’s hair had already turned a silvery gray. He had been organizing a funeral, but for some reason, even though he was the King, all the services had refused. They had said reassuring words like, “He’s still in our hearts,” and “He’s still alive- in spirit”, but part of Umbrin had a haunting feeling that they weren’t just reassuring words.
There was a maid who had been ordered to clean up the gory mess, and she quit her job the next day, which was odd because no servants or maids or really anybody working for the king ever just quit. They were either fired, executed, both, or they just up and died. Umbrin had heard rumors of an ability of Liam’s, one that could possess things. He had no idea if it was even true, or if the two things were even connected.
He looked back out the window. There was a shape in the fog, stepping towards the castle. A feminine figure, stopping to turn and look at something every now and then. Umbrin followed her gaze, and saw a pair of figures walking away. One of them had an odd walk, lurching steps that seemed unsure, testy. The other had a confident stride, and looked around warily. It surprised Umbrin that they didn’t notice the company only a few feet behind them. The fog must’ve been that thick down there.
Umbrin turned and looked around for something- anything to gift his guest. There was a half-wilted flower in a brown vase on his table, and his fingers just barely grazed it before he heard a loud thump on the windowsill.
“Wow. So thoughtful,” she said.
“It was last-minute.”
“You must’ve seen me before just a second ago.”
“Well…” Umbrin chuckled nervously and turned around, smiling. “Hello, Yvette.”
“Greetings, your O So High Majesty Umbrin,” The redhead curtsied, although one could hardly call it a curtsy.
“Stop that,” Umbrin frowned in embarrassment. “You know we’re equals.”
“Hardly. You’re Crown Prince now,” Yvette sighed, walking over to the plush, cobalt blue chair in the corner of the room, plopping down with a sigh.
“Yeah, and once I’m king,” Umbrin struck a ‘majestic’ pose. “Everyone will be equal. I’ve heard stories of a place that did that once… What was it called…? Oosaa? Usaaa? Whatever. Just fairy tales.”
Yvette snorted.
“Um, excuse me, but I thought I did great with that! I mean, it’s not like I read fairy tales anymore!”
She blinked her green eyes at him. “Seriously? I read them all the time.”
Umbrin looked at her in surprise. “Really? That’s-“
“Okay, now who’s being judgy?”
“You have a point.”
“So, how’d it happen?”
“How did what happen?”
Yvette rolled her eyes. “Liam, obviously.”
“Oh. That makes sense. Well… Someone went and killed him. I… I’m not sure who. But…”
“Hm?”
Umbrin leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “Quill and Mother… They had been acting strange…” He remembered the figures outside, and stood. “They left this morning! And the maid-”
“Calm down,” Yvette held out a hand. “Just calm down.”
Umbrin slammed his hands on the table, his vision going red. “IT WAS THEM. THEY KILLED MY BROTHER.” He could feel the flames climbing up his throat, feel the burning, the ripping, the biting, the stabbing, the-
“UMBRIN!” He felt a stinging blow lash across his face, and the smoke grasping his lungs allowed his vision to clear, and he saw Yvette’s green eyes piercing through him. He noticed that there was no more table, just a black lump on the ground, and ash and mist filled the room. “Calm down.”
Umbrin gasped for breath, looking around the room. There were vines shooting up around the room, slowly fading away. He looked back at his friend, who watched him in concern. “I’m sorry, but- “
“Yeah, yeah, your bro died,” Yvette turned around, and Umbrin had the distinct feeling she was hiding her face. “But you can’t just… You know what happens when you…” She waved a hand through the air.
Umbrin nodded. “I know, but… If Quill killed Liam, then…”
“You’re next. I know. I kinda saw it coming.”
Sally glanced at her child, their dull eyes looking down at the ground. Quill had been moping for a while, miffed that their plan had not worked. She looked up and saw the spindly young man who she’d sent back to the castle coming back towards them in the fog. He was dragging something behind him on the ground in a bag, and Sally smiled her best.
The life-sized doll her soul was currently inhabiting was hardly able to produce any emotion. She struggled with it every day, but at least she knew how to speak with it, unlike Liam, who had been stuck in that statue, and wasn’t able to move, not even blink.
Amateur.
She stood, striding towards the boy. Everyone thought she had trouble walking, but she was merely used to using a troubled step to trick others into helping her. Through this, she was able to ‘befriend’ some of the servants, and she knew every strength and weakness of the castle’s workforce. One boy broke down anytime anyone mentioned horses, and one girl had a limp hidden beneath her skirt, something that could get her fired at any second.
The boy swallowed and handed her the bag. She felt her soul ooze out of her into the bag, into the limp body inside. Now free of that fragile mess of a body, she clawed herself out of the bag, just in time to see the horrified kid fall over out of fear.
“Didja bring the gun, too?” Sally said in a heavy accent. She forgot how natural it felt to be in her real body again.
“Um, uh, yes,” the boy stuttered, his voice shaky as his clammy, trembling hands handed her a shotgun and swept his greasy black hair out of his eyes.
“Good,” Sally smiled at her old friend. “Ah, ‘ello ol’ gal. It’s been a while, ain’t it?” She hefted it in her hands, and pulled the trigger. “Woops,” she mused as the boy fell to the ground.
She turned on her heel and walked towards Quill. “’Ey. I got an idea, dunno if you’ll like it,” she said as the child looked up in confusion. “Come ‘ere.”
They walked out of the fog, rebel and unwanted child, and she pointed in the direction of where the sun was setting. “O’er thataways, there’s a rock. Git it, an’ Liam coul’ come back.”
Quill tilted their head in slight confusion.
“Kid, I know ya’ feel some regret, I’m yer ma’, like i’ er not. Now go try fer i’.”
Quill paused, then nodded. The child walked out of view, and Sally had never been happier. She could finally meet up with Ashe and those other useless sisters.
Quill had been walking for a couple of days, but they hadn’t seen any sign of a magical rock. They wondered if they really felt regret, and the voice in their head greeted them, as usual.
You search for regret. It is hard to find.
“Who are you?” Quill thought out loud.
You ask questions you know you will never know the answer to.
“Where is this place?” Quill paused, looking around. “I can’t see it.”
You wonder if you will ever find The Stone.
“Why aren’t you helping?”
You decide to stop asking questions.
Quill shook their head and sat down. Quill’s plan was originally to become the supreme ruler of the Fatelands, but then Mother butted in.
You think about how Mother was never the best Mother.
“You have a point there,” Quill whispered, and they laid down on the moist, green grass.
You are in the center of a beautiful meadow, one of the only places not contaminated by Greed. The sky is a gentle blue above you, full of possibilities.
Quill felt something deep inside, something that lit up at that sentence. ‘Full of possibilities.’ It reminded them of that word in the back of their mind… Fade. It meant something; they knew it.
You look at your hand. That hand can do anything. That hand can control the fate of the lands. You know it is true. You stand up, the Light within burning brighter.
Quill nodded and kept walking. The kingdom had to have figured it out by now. That they had stabbed their brother to death with his own weapon. They could ask for forgiveness, or they could grasp revenge for being excluded, teased all their life. Umbrin was next. He was Crown Prince.
The world is a dangerous place. Accidents can happen anytime, anywhere. All you do is pull some strings.
“You are clever...” Quill said, mocking the narrator. “You must be curious to find out what happens.”
They look through you, treating you to an end.
This is a story I wrote for a contest (never got any rewards, not even an email back :P, and so I just copied it from the Google Doc I had it on... The formatting might be wack
Category:Original Stories
Category:Fantasy
Category:Literature
Category:Star's stuff