Prince Luciel was someone that could make flowers wilt in his presence. Falling to the floor like a servant bowing before a master. A harsh, ruthless man, but it was all under cover beneath his pale skin. He didn't act ruthless and harsh most of the time, yet he still managed to make even the strongest man shake in his boots, he himself wasn't very muscular. It usually only took a look. A convulsion of his face's muscles filled with harmful intent. It wasn't about what he was going to do; it was what he could do. It was effortless, cold, stoic, emotionless, so dead it would make a stone gargoyle break down and cry.
Today however, the look wasn't working. He couldn't bring himself to force an expression that was even worthy of becoming 'the looks' slave and he didn't know why. The man in front of him had just ran into him, causing a large amount of flower petals, crushed on impact, and an unidentifiable sticky substance, to cover him. The petals, in various shades of turquoise, teal and mauve where sticking to his skin, hair and clothes, and he couldn't shake them off.
The man in front of him just stood there with a mischievous glint in his eyes. It looked like he was about to laugh. Luciel honestly couldn't see anything even remotely funny about the situation, yet he couldn't force himself to even attempt to scare the man away, and he honestly didn't think it would work if he did. There was something odd about the man stood in front of him. Aside from his height, and those piercing teal eyes, He found his mind wondering. His eyes were the same shade of teal as the petal that was stuck firmly to his arm…
He shook himself out of it and looked at the man in front of him again. He was tucking a strand of long fiery red hair behind his ear, with long lithe fingers. The contrast of his pale hands with the vibrant colour of his hair was startling. That's when he noticed something. The man's ears were pointy, very pointy. He was an elf.
The man smiled and for a moment Luciel thought that he actually liked the man's smile, that he wanted to see it again, wanted to make him smile, to be the cause. He cursed himself, angered at his emotions. The man in front of him was still smiling.
Probably put a god damn spell on me, foolish elves… He thought to himself.
"You're an elf. What are you doing here? Don't you know you're not welcome in this part of town? If my father catches you he'll…"
The man stepped closer to him for a moment, leaning towards him so that he could whisper in his ear.
"But he won't will he my prince." He breathed into his ear, stroking a couple of fingers down his face.
Luciel shivered, he didn't like the way he put such emphasis on the word my, or the glint in his teal eyes. There was something almost magical about them… He stopped himself thinking about it. He wasn't supposed to have thoughts of magic, magic was bad, and magic was evil. It's what he'd been all his life. He still remembered the look in his father's eyes when he'd used magic for the first time.
His older brother, Damien, had been teasing him again; he was stronger and more muscular than Luciel, even at such a young age. He was stuck up in a tree, his brother knew he was scared of heights and he'd pulled him up to the tallest branch and was holding him there. He'd accidenlty cast a spell on him, making his arms spring apart and than causing himself to teleport to the ground below. His brother had been jealous, he wasn't capable of such things, and Luciel hadn't thought he was either. He'd ran straight to his farther who for once had been in the castle, and wasn't busy. He'd come storming out, with a worried looking Damien jogging behind, trying to keep up with his fathers long strides. When his farther had reached Him he looked disappointed, hurt, and disgusted with him. It was a look he'd never wanted to see again.
Later that same evening he'd heard his farther shouting about it to his mother.
"A witch in our family! I can't believe it, the purest line of all! I tell you he's not my son. If this get's out… The royal family bearing a witch? It can only mean catastrophe."
Luckily his mother had been able to reassure him, she'd claimed that it probably wasn't him that had cast the spell and that it was probably some other magical creature, that had disobeyed the laws and had come up to the higher part of town. Eventually his farther gave in, believing her. He sent a search party out to look for anyone that might have come up to the higher town but of course the search was fruitless. It was Luciel that had cast the spell.
His farther gave up the search eventually and ordered that all books on magic and anything of the sort be removed from the house, lest Luciel got ideas. The fact that he was a witch was kept a secret from everyone. His farther apparently still had some suspicions.
He grew up to be a powerful fighter. With abilities that, were not stronger than his brother's, but still greater than his. He was swift and could use a sword well, and he knew how to put fear into people who got on his bad side.
Luciel never used his magic again, not that he really knew how to.
Luciel knew now that if he wanted to cast a spell he could, he didn't know how but something inside him told him that he could do it, but he never would as he felt it was evil. A lowly temptation that creatures such as elves gave into. He, the prince, never would.
The man in front of him had stepped back from him observing him with a smile, smaller than the one before, he looked like he was thinking about something.
"My names Erzharel…"
"I don't care what your name is elf. You know the laws; you're not supposed to come to this part of town. You're lucky I'm feeling generous today. I won't punish you, nor hand you over to my farther, but if you ever touch me, come close to me, or even talk to me ever again I'll make you wish you'd stayed in your horrid magical layer." He said venomously.
Erzharel just smiled at him, and said.
"I only came up here to buy some flowers I needed, but you make me feel like staying up here longer. Still I have work to do, I'm sure I'll…" He twirled a strand of his long red hair around his finger, "See you around…"
Luciel stood there shocked as the tall elf made his swift and silent departure. He was taller than Luciel was, and Luciel, at six foot three inches, was tall. Few men, other than his farther were taller than he was. He'd seen elves before, and while he knew they were a tall race he hadn't expected to see one taller than him.
He stormed back up to the castle, forgetting entirely what he'd come down to do in the first place – to buy a birthday present for his brother's birthday. It was his brother's twenty first birthdays, his coming of age. It was an important one, but somehow his encounter with that man had swiped all thought of that from his mind. He was furious with himself for getting so irritated and almost angry at the elf, he who was normally so calm and collected, getting angry at such a low creature. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt a stab of sadness, that calling him a lowly creature was wrong. He removed the idea from his mind instantly.
He wasn't thinking straight, he decided he must be tired. He'd just gotten back from sorting out a riot in a neighbouring town his family ruled over, and than there was the war before that. He was glad it was all over with now, but he felt exhausted. He needed to rest and relax. He'd only returned yesterday. He through open the large double doors which made up the castle's entrance and slammed them shut behind them, with unnatural force.
He made a beeline for his chambers ignoring the concerned looks that crossed the servant's faces. He collapsed on his bed, he was going to sleep. When he woke up he'd be in a better mood…
Erzharel gazed through the stone urn in front of him. It wasn't his, it belonged to his sister but he'd wanted to borrow it, to use it to see the prince, the man he'd run into this afternoon. He was better looking in person, he smiled at the thought. He adjusted the copper television Arial that was attached to the top of urn, and the water filling the urn crackled slightly with electricity. The murky grey colour quickly turned colourful, droplets rearranged themselves making up a picture. Luciel was lying on his bed. Erzharel's mind wondered dangerously.
He looked into the urn closer, causing the picture to zoom in slightly, allowing him a better view of Luciel. The prince was lying covered slightly by a black silk sheet; the black tendrils of his hair disappeared into the depth of his equally dark pillow. Erzharel gasped softly. His pale skin looked luxurious. It was muscular but not overly so, he wasn't huge and beefy, he was lean. He gazed at Luciel's face as he turned over in his sleep. His features were beautiful, but he had a troubled expression. Erzharel wondered briefly if he was perhaps thinking about him. He watched him mouth his name, yes defiantly dreaming about him. He laughed softly. He wished that the prince would wake up so he could get a good view of those eyes, hidden cruelly from him by tired lids.
He toyed with the idea of casting magic on the urn. Electricity wasn't his specialty it was his sister's, it would probably go wrong, but he wanted to get a better look and the urn wasn't allowing it.
Suddenly the picture crackled wavering slightly, before disappearing. Erzharel stared at it with an expression that would rival a small child's who'd just been told that the family trip to Disney land was being cancelled.
"Erzharel, I told you never to touch my belongings." An angry voice said from behind him.
Erzharel turned around to face his sister Arca. He was kneeling by the urn, around half his standing size, and yet he ended up being the same height as his sister. He smiled thinking about how small she was, she was the average height of an adolescent female human, one of the smallest elves he knew. She had such fire in her though, she scared most elves, including the one next door who he was sure had a crush on her. She didn't scare him though.
"No you said that I was never to touch your belongings without asking. I asked you earlier if I could use this didn't I?" He asked laughing.
His sister's unnatural copper eyes stared furiously at him. They were the result of messing with electricity and metal too much in magic, something had gone wrong. Her hair which was also a metallic copper was a result of this too. Her eyes had been brown before, and her hair had been a slightly less bright shade of copper, a realistic shade.
"You asked, and I told you that you were not to use it! Don't you ever listen to me?" She hissed grinding her teeth together in fury.
"Look I'm sorry ok, next time I'll listen, but I had to use it. It was important." Erzharel said smiling.
His tone caught Arca off guard. He sounded dazed, like he was under a spell only she could tell he wasn't. She looked at him curiously; he was smiling to himself, lost in another world.
"What did you use it for?" She asked suspiciously.
"Hmm… Oh, nothing much." He said skipping off out of the room. It was quite a site to behold, all six foot of him. The glass jars in a nearby cupboard shook slightly in their shelves.
Arca followed him out of the room.
"I'm not going to stop asking you unless you tell me. You owe me; you used my creation without asking me."
Erzharel twisted gracefully around and bent down slightly staring his sister right in the eyes. He cocked his head to the side questioningly.
"You really want to know?" He asked mischievously.
"You owe me." She repeated.
He drew himself up to his full height and than said:
"I was watching the prince dream about him while wondering how it would feel for him to-"
"Stop right there. I don't want to know anymore." Arca shuddered, cutting him off.
He smirked down at her, flicking his long, deep red hair behind his back. He skipped off out of their house. He had a visit to make.
Arca stood there for a moment, still processing all of the information, and than something clicked in her brain. Her brother had been spying on the prince of their kingdom, their town, the royal prince himself. Click wasn't really it; it was more like a slam. Yes something slammed into place alright, if anyone found out about this they were all as good as dead, or imprisoned for life. She wondered how her brother could be so careless, and why he did it. She sighed. She would defiantly be talking to him about this later.
AN: First of all I hope you enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.
Please review, even if you just want to tell me that you didn't like this. I like hearing people's opinions about my work. Constructive critisim is also very much apreciated. :)
I'm hoping to post a new chapter as soon as possible, I can't make any promises about the exact time though.