AN: This is a looong-ass story that took me a looong-ass time to complete. It would probably be classified as a novella (Over 10,000 words, bitch) but I call it a short story. It would never hold up in a contest, but I gotta call it something. Now, on to the warnings. This fic contains:

Fairy tale suckiness

Cross-dressing

Bastard!Prince

Madness

Non-graphic sex

Homosexuality

Rape

Death

Death

More death

Demons

And I think that's it. There's so much fucked-up shit in this fic that I might have missed something. You may want to take a few days to read it. It's long, dudes.

Oh yeah, and sorry for the sucky title. I just couldn't think of anything else. Anyway, hope you enjoy. See ya!

Prince Femile, sole heir to the Helian Empire, smiled to himself as he rode his strong chestnut steed. He was on a very important quest.

For his twenty years of life, bride hopefuls had been chosen for him by his father, King Dedrick. None of them, however, enticed Femile’s interest in the slightest. To him, they were all the same; blonde and plain, with a dash of controlling nature and whiny voices.

His son’s lack of a bride worried the King and the people of the Empire, since the Prince needed to be married before his twenty-first birthday. They feared he would not make it, and thus would not qualify to be King when his father died.

When the time was a month before the Prince’s birthday, he heard a tale of a beautiful young Princess, cursed by a demon to take on the appearance of an ugly toad. But legend had it that if one were to kiss her, she would transform into her original form; a woman worthy of being his bride.

So he set off, promising his father that when he returned with his bride, they would be wed. For a fortnight he traveled, guiding both his own horse and a white mare for the Princess to ride on the journey back.

Soon, Femile came to a large castle in the middle of an overgrown field. It was crumbling, and obviously very old, but still held the basic shape. Femile smiled as he jumped from his horse to the ground. Inside, he knew, awaited the beautiful Analis, anticipating his arrival so that she might be set free from her curse. Femile tied the horses to one of the stone gargoyles flanking the barely entrance and climbed inside eagerly.

Few obstacles blocked his way once inside. One of them being a talking wolf that tried to deter him from his path, claiming that the treasure he sought would bring unhappiness to all. But Femile only laughed and speared the wolf with his sword, killing it instantly and hurrying along again towards the prize he knew lay deep inside the castle.

He found a dungeon along a Southern wall that was locked with a padlock. It wasn’t overly thick, but also not weak enough for him to break with his sword. He looked around on the ground and found a fairly large rock. Picking it up with both hands, he smashed it against the padlock a few times. It soon broke and the Prince was able to open the door.

He looked inside and found a small pond-like puddle in the far corner of the dingy room. In the middle of it, soaking up as much water as it could was a small toad. Femile smiled. That must be the Princess. Who else could it be? Slowly, he inched forward towards it. The toad watched him with a wary glance, only confirming that it was, in fact, intelligent.

When he reached the edge, Femile slowly leaned down and cupped the toad in both of his hands, staring at it closely. It really did look like any other toad. In fact, he might have thought it was a normal toad if not for the eyes, which were still watching him in an intelligent manner. He knew without a doubt that this was the Princess from the story he had heard and, with just one kiss, she would be as human as he himself.

Femile quickly left the dungeon and stopped in an open hallway. He couldn’t wait until he was outside; he had to change her now. So, without wasting any more time, he pressed his lips quickly to her skin.

The change was instantaneous. In a puff of smoke, Femile felt the frog leave his hands and could just see the silhouette of a person slowly coming into focus. Ragged clothes, long black hair, dark green eyes, pale skin, and a soft smile were revealed as the smoke cleared away. Femile gaped slightly as it disappeared. Though the clothes were baggy and revealed nothing, there was no mistake that the figure before him was a boy.

Femile rode away from the castle, a scowl obstructing his features. The boy, Analis, rode on the white mare beside him. He couldn’t believe the horrible luck he’d had. At first, he thought maybe he had made a mistake, but the boy assured him that he was the one he had heard of in the story.

Femile was devastated. He had traveled so far to find a bride and was instead stuck with a boy. He had almost left him behind, thinking he could just tell his father the stories had been wrong and that he would choose a random bride from the village to wed. But he knew he couldn’t leave him there. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that staying in that castle would be a horrible punishment for anyone. He also considered leaving him at a village he came across, but that was also impossible. There were no villages between this castle and his own. And to travel to find one, he might have to go completely out of his way. There was no way to know if he could get back in time. Surely, he told himself, his father would find a use for Analis while he married a woman? After all, men couldn’t marry other men.

While Femile had been leading the boy out of the castle, they had passed by the carcass of the wolf he had killed. The boy suddenly let out a cry of anguish and dropped to his knees beside the furry corpse.

"He used to speak to me through the door," he said, his eyes spilling tears. It took some persuasion after that to get him up and outside, but finally they were under the crumbling entrance. Analis turned to Femile and asked if he had any other clothes he might wear. He admitted that he had brought a dress for the Princess, but that he had no others he might wear. Femile was surprised, however, when the boy happily said that the dress would do just fine.

He went behind a partial wall to change and when he came back he might have easily passed for a woman. The dress fit for the most part, save for the chest where it hung loosely. The boy even walked and sat on the horse as a woman did. It annoyed Femile immensely that any man would allow himself to look like a woman. Though, he did admit that it made him feel slightly better about the situation.

When they arrived back at the palace, Femile took his father aside and explained the situation. To his horror, the King only said, "There is no time to find a new bride. And you must keep your promise, regardless." Femile could not deny that he had promised to marry the one he brought back, but he tried to reason with his father. He tried to argue that it would seem uncouth to the people and their allies for him to marry a man. But the King retaliated, saying that when the boy was wearing a dress he passed for a woman. And so the wedding was still to be held.

Analis was left to his own devices mostly while preparations were being made. His fiancée certainly left him well enough alone, and the servants were too busy to pay him any mind. He did gain a companion during this time, however: The Queen, Lucy.

The Queen was a kind and beautiful lady with hair of gold and eyes like the sea. She helped to form-fit Analis’ dress so it was snug about the chest. When it was finished, he looked like a most beautiful bride indeed and passed easily as a girl in the eyes of all that looked upon him.

When the day of the wedding arrived, none of the present allied nobles were any the wiser that Femile was being married to a man. Femile knew, though, and was very unhappy about it. But he did his best to mask it, and willed the wedding to go quickly.

When it was done with, however, it was only the beginning of the horrible night. He was forced to dance with his new "bride" and to kiss and embrace him for appearances sake. But when the guests began to dwindle, he took the opportunity to steal away to the West wing, which had been cleared especially for the newly married couple.

As if I would need it, he growled in his head. He noticed after a time that he was being followed. He looked around and found the person to be Analis, looking timid and walking with uncertain steps toward him. Femile glared.

"Why do you follow me? Go to the guests and entertain like the woman you pretend to be." Analis flinched, but continued to move forward.

"We…we are married now," he said in a quiet voice.

"It is a crude enough marriage," Femile replied coldly. "I accept it as an obligation, and a promise that must be kept, but do not fool yourself into thinking it is any more than that." He turned away. "I will continue to treat you as my wife where public eyes might see, but in the privacy of this castle we are all but strangers."

As he continued walking, he failed to notice-or perhaps did not care about-the tears that fell from Analis’ eyes as he turned and fled back to the main hall where the reception was taking place.

--

It was late, near midnight presumably. Analis sat in the main hall, alone save for a few servants cleaning up. The guests had gone to bed long ago, and the King and Queen had retired only recently. Analis was tired, to be sure, but he dreaded the confrontation when he joined his husband in their bedroom. More than that, he feared that Femile would not be there in an attempt to escape him.

When the servants finished cleaning and began diffusing the torches, a maid led Analis to his room in the West wing. They did not speak on the journey there, and parted without a word at the door. Slowly, Analis eased the door open and peered inside, fearing the worst. To his relief, not only was Femile inside, but he was asleep as well. Quickly, he changed into his nightgown, one of feminine design, and slipped under the satin sheets.

He could just see Femile’s face in the near-dark, courtesy of the faint moonlight filtering in through the spiderweb curtains. In a rare moment of boldness, Analis leaned forward and kissed his husband gently on the lips. A slight frown creased Femile’s brow, but otherwise he did not stir. "Good night," Analis whispered, laying his head near Femile’s chest and allowing the steady heartbeat the lull him to sleep.

Femile was not pleased when he woke. As a reflex, during the night his arm had wrapped around the nearest thing to him, which just so happened to be Analis. At first he did not fully realize it and simply griped tighter, meaning to go back to sleep. But then the feel of hot, waking breath alerted him to reality and he pushed Analis away, using the same momentum to slide himself to the edge of the bed.

He let his feet rest on the floor and laid his elbows on his knees, gripping his hair in honeyed tufts. Analis finally woke and was confused as to why he was finding his husband in so miserable a position. He made to crawl across the bed to him, but Femile growled, "Don’t," and his bravery on the subject shattered. All he could do was watch as Femile avoided looking at him and quickly left the room.

This made Analis feel depressed, but he got up anyway and went to the washroom. He called some maids to draw him a bath and leaves some fresh towels and soap for him. When they left, he settled into the water and laid back to relax. He was very aware of how silent it was, and how alone he was. As he picked up a towel and soap and began to wash himself, he began to wonder aloud we he had come there in the first place.

"It’s not as if I’m welcome," he said miserably. "And no one approves of this marriage that knows of its true substance. Not even my own husband. I would have been better off spending a hundred years in that dungeon in a frog’s body, with at least the wolf to talk to me. I am so alone here." He allowed himself to cry a little, lamenting the loss of his friend, and for the predicament he found himself in.

When he finished washing, he dressed in a beautiful blue dress laid out for him by the maids and joined the other residents of the castle downstairs in the main hall.

Most of the guests for the wedding that were visiting from other countries were present, enjoying a breakfast feast on a long wooden table that looked strong enough to easily hold all of them without breaking. The King sat at the head, of course. Femile sat on his right side, the Queen on his left. With a sigh of disappointment, Analis noticed that the seat beside his husband was occupied by a handsome young nobleman with mousy brown hair and chiseled features. He did not look much older than Femile himself. The two seemed deep in conversation, though with the noise of the other guests he could not hear what they were saying. Luckily, the Queen noticed him hovering in the entrance and waved him over to the empty seat next to her.

"Good morning to you. Ana," she said, smiling brightly. "Did you fare well in your dreams?" Ana? He opened his mouth to ask the Queen about the sudden nickname, when he was interrupted by a cry of, "Ana, my dear!"

His gaze snapped up to meet Femile’s, for he was the one who had spoken. He was smiling at Analis, convincingly enough for the guests, but he noticed that it was strained somewhat.

"I did not expect you up so early," he continued. "I tried not to disturb you. If I had known you were coming down, I would have kept this seat open for you." Analis looked down at his plate. He understood what was going on. They were surrounded by a room full of royals and nobles. It was like a stage, where they had to play the role of the happy married couple. Still, he found this difficult. Much more, it seemed, than Femile.

"It is quite all right," he said timidly, "I enjoy talking with your mother." Femile seemed to accept this and resumed his conversation with the young nobleman.

"You seem tired, my dear." Analis turned to fins the Queen smiling slightly at her. "I do hope my son was not too rough with you." Analis flinched almost imperceptibly. "Oh…no, no, it was…it was fine." The Queen’s smile faded and was replaced with a frown.

"He has not taken you to bed yet?" she asked in a low voice so that only Analis could hear. He shook his head. The Queen sat back with a sigh. "Do not fret yourself, my dear," she said. "This is a difficult thing for him to adjust to. He will come to accept you eventually." Analis nodded slightly, but doubted very much whether that would ever happen. The best he could hope for was that Femile would someday look upon him with eyes that were not dripping with contempt. Or even to look upon him at all without company surrounding them.

By the late afternoon, the nickname Ana had spread to all the guests. He was greeted by the nobles as such, though the servants still called him Lady Analis. Ana found this very amusing, since the servants knew of his true gender. But, as with Femile, appearances had to be upheld.

Though the wedding had been held the previous day, the celebrations continued. The men went outside, while the women (and Ana) stayed in and drank tea. It was refreshing for Ana to have company around him. Not to mention company that spoke to him so much. It was a little overwhelming, but he accepted it willingly and hoped for more. Anything was better than loneliness.

When darkness covered the land like a thick blanket, the men were washed and dressed and brought into the main hall for dinner.

Femile surprised Ana by kissing him passionately when he came inside. However, Ana noticed that, like the smile at breakfast, it was strained. It was a fake kiss, for the benefit of the nobles alone. Still, Ana could not help kissing back as best he could.

Once dinner was finished and most of the guests began to retire, Femile made his way back to the room in the West Wing. He allowed Ana to walk with him this time, but did not speak with him the entire way.

When they reached their room and began redressing into their nightclothes, he turned to Ana and said, "Next time, do not kiss back. You are not very good at it."

Ana flushed indignantly. That was not really fair, since he had almost no experience with such things. He had not thought he had been overly horrible, considering.

When he was fully dressed, he turned to find Femile already lying down, facing away from him. Ana snuffed out the torch and crawled into the bed, meaning to sleep close to Femile once again. But Femile pushed him away.

"Sleep on your own side," he growled.

Tears in his eyes, Ana moved to the far side of the bed. It was cold there, and even the drawing of blankets around his body did little to lessen it. The coldness of the sheets coincided with Femile's coldness, and the more he thought of it, the sadder he became. Soon the silent crying escalated into full-out sobbing.

Before the curse had been placed on him, when he was a young child, he had been plagued by frequent nightmares which caused him to cry out during the night. His parents had always been by his side in minutes, comforting him with warm embraces and whispered soothing words.

Now, there was nothing to lessen the blow of depression and fear that lay upon him like a weight. In fact, there was absolutely no sound of stirring in the silent stone castle, and none from the other figure on the bed either. And that, to Ana, made it all the more difficult to bear.

--

When Femile finally took Ana to bed, it was nearly six months after their wedding. It was a loveless act, full of hurried movements and painful fingers. It was done from behind, Femile's weight just barely pressing against the skin of his back, and Ana was forbidden to speak.

By biting his lower lip, Ana was able to stay silent, and endured it with silent tears that rolled steadily down his cheeks to fall wetly on the pillow under the wooden headboard he clutched with whitened knuckles.

Femile only care about sating his own needs, and ignored Ana's. So, though it pained him to do so, Ana used his hand to bring himself to completion quickly, if only so he would not have to endure the pain of it during the night. However, at the end he could not hold back a whispered cry of his husband's name, which he sincerely hoped Femile had not heard.

However, it seemed luck was not on his side. When Femile pulled out, Ana found himself being yanked back painfully by the hair.

"You were ordered not to speak," Femile hissed in his ear. "Do you take me for a fool?" Eyes clenched against the screaming pain in his skull, Ana tried to shake his head. But he doubted his husband saw it in the dark, or even cared to.

He was released suddenly, falling face-first into the pillow below.

"See that it does not happen again," Femile said in a threateningly low voice, retreating to the other side of the bed. They had been on Ana's side, so while Femile fell into sleep on warm, dry sheets, Ana was forced to lay awake all night in a sticky puddle. He would have to ask the maids to change the sheets tomorrow.

Not for the first time, Ana had realized that Femile refused to speak his name while addressing him in private. It was unbearably sad, and only worsened the coldness in the pit of his stomach.

Ana stared out the window at the faint outline of the full moon all night, until the first rays of pink dawn made themselves known. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep as Femile stirred and awoke, leaving the room almost immediately.

Ana waited until he was truly gone, and then started to move around himself, going to the washroom to clean the shame from his body. No amount or intensity of scrubbing, however, could wipe the memory of it from his mind. It was burned there, as if with a brand. Just as deeply inflicted, and many times over as painful.

"It is not fair," he said to himself in a low voice, "I have suffered my own fair share of misfortunes already. What benefit could the Fates possibly have by causing my life to be an even greater misery? What have I done to invoke the wrath of the mistresses of the darkness?" He expected no answer, and was rewarded thus. Only the bitter silence of the castle and the slight echo of his words greeted him.

If anything, Ana and Femile's relationship became more strained after that day. Every look Femile sent his way was one of a deeper loathing than previously. He had ceased talking to Ana altogether, and had taken to spending as much time as possible in unknown locations. It did not matter either way. The nobles had long since left, so there was no reason to uphold the facade any longer.

One day, while Ana and the Queen were having lunch together, Femile strode in purposefully. Ana dropped his gaze to the floor, willing his husband to state his business with the Queen and leave quickly. But he was met with surprise when Femile asked him for a private word outside.

Ana flicked his gaze upwards and found that Femile's face was as cold as ever, but there was certain sincerity to it. He nodded his head and followed him just outside the door.

"One of the maids is pregnant," Femile stated his voice monotone and betraying no emotion that Ana could sense. "It is my child."

Ana, who until this point had only been amazed that Femile was talking to him, felt his heart lurch painfully. "You have been...sleeping with other women?"

Femile frowned. "I do not think 'other' is the proper adjective, since you are not a woman at all."

The hurt Ana had felt at Femile's news was suddenly replaced with cold anger. "While I am not a woman," he said evenly, "We are married. The act you have committed is still considered Adultery. Even you, a Prince, are not immune to the penalties of it. If the people knew, they could order you hanged and your father would not be able to refuse it."

Femile's seething face turned on him and Ana found himself with his wrists pinned to the wall on either side of his body painfully, staring down the brunt of a hateful glare.

"The people will not find out," Femile hissed, grinding Ana's pale skin into the stone for emphasis. Ana let out a sharp cry of pain. "If they do, I swear I will reveal you and have you hanged alongside me. The child is yours, and all will continue to think this." He released him harshly and strode off.

Ana shakily pushed himself away from the wall, rubbing at his bruised arms, and rejoined the Queen in the hall. When she saw his face, she knew something had happened and demanded that he tell her. So Ana told her everything, because there was no point in hiding it.

The Queen looked grim when he had finished. "You must understand," she said, "He needs an heir after him to take over the kingdom. Though I do not agree with his methods, I do not deny that this is a necessary evil." She sighed. "The best thing that you can do is to be a mother to that poor child. I have a feeling they will need your brand of love."

Ana nodded. That would be the preferable outcome for all.

--

The day of the birth was a grim one. No celebrations were held about the child, though the King and Queen and Femile and Ana were required to be present. Ana had to look away, comforted by the warm hands of the Queen on his shoulders, while the King and his son looked on with cold indifference at the "miracle" that was taking place before their eyes.

When the birth was over, Ana was surprised when the doctor laid the babe, wrapped in a cloth blanket, in his arms.

"It is a boy," he said simply, gathering his belongings from around the bed.

Ana stared helplessly at the fussing child in his arms. "Go on," the Queen prompted gently, "Give him a name."

Ana looked about at the others in the room, his gaze resting on the maid, who was staring longingly at the baby. He quickly strode to her bedside.

"What is your name?" he asked kindly. The maid regarded him with wide, fearful eyes.

"Kindell," she answered in a quiet voice broken from screaming.

"And what would you name him, Kindell?"

Her gaze was full of wonderment as she once more watched the babe fussing and reaching out with unknowing fingers from the small blanket. "What would I name him? I...I always thought I would name my first child...Emerith. After my grandfather."

A smile crept onto Ana's face. "Then that will be his name."

Kindell and Ana spent a lot of time together after the birth. The breast milk Kindell carried in her swollen bosom was needed to feed Emerith, and Ana found spending time with them immensely enjoyable. In fact, he found that he spent more time in the nursery now than in his and Femile's room, helping to sooth Emerith when he woke during the night.

There was little he could do of course, not being female, but Kindell usually found something for him to do. It felt good for him to be thought of as useful.

One day, while they were sitting in the nursery and Kindell was feeding Emerith, Ana asked, "Why is it that you do not treat me as the other servants do, Kindell? They avoid me, treat me with scorn, yet you have befriended me."

Kindell ducked her head timidly. "I did think ill of you before," she admitted, "In the beginning, I was repulsed by you. It was a frightful thought that you could be a man and yet look and act like a woman. It was a foreign concept to me, and I felt certain that you must be a horrible person. So I ignored you." She looked up and smiled. "But when you spoke to me, you were so kind. And I realized that I had presumed the worst of someone I knew absolutely nothing about, unnecessarily. You were so kind to me, Ana, regardless of my being intimate with your husband. And for that, I was grateful."

Ana proffered a small smile. “You need not be grateful. You are one of the few friends I have found in this place. I am glad to have met you.”

When Emerith finished feeding, Kindell handed him reluctantly to Ana. “I know he is meant to be yours,” she said longingly, “But it saddens me that I must be separated from him for any amount of time.”

“The Queen says he must bond with me if I am to keep up this charade,” Ana said ashamedly, cradling Emerith gently in his arms. “If it were up to me, your child would be yours alone.”

Kindell reached forward and ran her fingers through the thin fuzz of blonde hair on Emerith’s head. “You are a lucky person, Ana. Married to the Prince and raising such a beautiful child without implications. I envy you, truly.”

Ana let loose a bitter laugh, which made Emerith fuss slightly in his sleep and startled Kindell into sitting back. “Luck…” he spat contemptuously, “Truly, if you knew, a curse. The specific, I believe, was to be miserable in happiness.” He looked around the room as if searching for an unknown adversary. “Your curse is working, Demon! You are probably amused by it enough, but too cowardly to show your face once more!”

He sighed and Kindell watched him with wide eyes. She noticed Ana was shaking slightly, and laid a hand on his in comfort. Before she could say anything, Ana said in a voice so quiet that Kindell had to lean forward to hear it, “Do not trust demons, Kindell. Not even those who are close to dying. Leave them to their misery, lest they seal your doom.”

He refused to say anything more on the matter, so Kindell stopped asking. The rest of the day was spent in joy, and the subject of demons was not brought up again.

Emerith was eighteen months old when Femile finally decided he did not have to be breastfed any longer. He moved the baby out of the nursery in the servant’s quarters and into a specially-made nursery room adjacent to his and Ana’s room.

Ana found himself searching the maids’ faces as he carried Emerith around the castle on his hip, which was not quite as pronounced as a woman’s. But none of them were Kindell.

He was worried, because he hadn’t seen his friend around the castle in weeks. Not since Emerith had been moved, in fact. He had assumed she had gone back to work, but if that were true it should not be this hard to find her.

He finally worked up the courage to ask the King himself what had happened to her. The answer he was given made his blood run cold. The King said that Kindell had had her tongue cut out and was sent to a faraway country with which they had little affiliation. In this way, their secret would surely be kept.

“It is for the best,” the King said coldly.

--

Years passed and the King fell deathly ill. The doctors could not identify his illness, so could do nothing to treat him. In a matter of days, he died.

The castle residents mourned his passing, and held a ceremony in his honor before the funeral. Ana didn’t know what to make of it. He had barely spoken to the old King and did not know him very well at all. He could not feel sadness about the passing, though all around him were.

At the funeral, his and Emerith’s were the only dry eyes at the shore. Though that was to be expected, since Emerith was only four years old and did not understand such things. The Queen was comforted by Femile, while both of them stood in front of the coffin.

The tradition in this country was to send the body of the deceased in a coffin off the shore at sunset. The receding tide would carry it into the sun and transport their soul to the land of the Gods, where they would spend eternity in paradise thereafter. Ana did not believe it, but knew that saying so would not be a wise act.

When the sun had fully set and none could see the coffin anymore, the attendees made their way back to the castle and the town below. Ana picked up Emerith in his arms and carried the obviously tired young boy.

It seemed he was not as tired as he seemed, though, because only a few minutes later he said, “Mama? Why did they put that box in the water? Won’t it get wet?”

Ana nodded absent-mindedly. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Go ahead and sleep, we will be home soon.”

In truth, Ana did not know enough about death himself to have a hope of explaining it to a child as young as Emerith. And anyway, some things were better off learned as one went through life.

The King’s sudden death prompted for Femile’s coronation to be sooner than expected. The people needed a leader, and even if it wasn’t done traditionally, they would accept Femile without question.

Ana was forced to attend, but did not really care to pay attention. He just gritted his teeth and waited it out until finally, Femile was announced to be the new ruler of Helios.

Since the coronation, Femile was busier than ever and Ana rarely saw him. This didn’t bother him in the slightest, since he had gotten so used to being ignored over the years. Emerith was off playing with one of the servant’s boys, who had been chosen as a playmate for him.

Not even the Queen was around any longer. She had taken to her bed mostly, and had to be fed and bathed by the maids. The times Ana had visited her, she hadn’t seemed to recognize him. The doctors could find nothing wrong with her physically. Grief, they had concluded, was her only ailment.

Femile had ceased sleeping around with the maids since he had become King and he and Ana moved into the Master bedroom. He chose instead to sleep with Ana most nights. But it was no better, if not worse than, the first time.

It became harder to look at Emerith as days went by. Every time he saw him, saw his father in him, his heart burned with anger.

In this way, Ana found himself spending all his time alone.

It had been raining for a while. Ana was fond of the rain. It was a soothing sound, the sound of water slapping on stone. He found himself often curling up by a window to watch and listen to it. It was during this time that he finally found some company. However, it was an unsavory sort.

He was staring over the expanse of the grounds, out at the gardens on the far horizon. The flowers had an ethereal glow from this distance, which was only heightened by the halo formed from the rain. Ana had never visited them, but he had always wanted to.

“You’re horrible.” Ana turned and found one of the maids, a slight girl with mousy brown hair and pale skin, staring at her with a look of absolute loathing on her face.

“How can you sit there so calmly?” she hissed acidly. “It is because of you that so much misfortune has befallen this castle. You bring nothing but ill omen and bad luck in your wake.”

Ana was taken aback. “Why do you say such things?” he said softly. “What harm have I done to you that you would hate me so?”

“Do you not see it?” The maid laughed shortly, derisively. “Since you have been here, crops are not growing as abundantly as before. Sickness is ravaging the land and has killed our good and just King. It has affected our kind and beautiful Queen, who is now little more than a living corpse.” She looked close to tears as the passion of her words drove her voice higher into hysterics. “And Kindell…Kindell has suffered the most. She is not allowed to see her own child and was banished to an unfamiliar land for the rest of her life. She’ll never see her family again!” A clear stream poured from both eyes steadily, but the anger remained in her eyes. “And it is all because of you. Helios our God is punishing us for allowing you here. You, who is neither man nor woman; you who is a blasphemy against God; you who is the embodiment of evil, a demon in human skin. I cannot even imagine the audacity required for you to believe there is still a reason for you to be alive.”

Ana clasped his arms around himself, wishing with all his might that this woman would disappear. “That is not true!” he cried. “It is not, it is not! Please, stop saying such things, I beg of you!”

The maid advanced upon him. “I should kill you,” she hissed through her teeth. “I could. I would not be very difficult.”

Fear leapt through Ana’s chest and he backed away fearfully towards the middle of the hall. He almost wailed in despair when his back found a solid oak door. He was trapped as the maid advanced with murderous intent clear on her face. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for what was to come.

“But you know…” Ana’s eyes flew open and she flinched, finding the maid so close and whispering in his ear. The woman laughed cruelly. “Just killing you is not enough. I want to see you suffer. I want you to feel as much pain as you have caused. I want God to judge you.”

She opened the door behind Ana and pushed him outside into the downpour. He landed in the mud with a thick noise and looked up in time to see the door being pulled shut. Ignoring the rain for a moment, he struggled upright and pulled at the door desperately. But it wouldn’t budge; not that he had expected it to.

He shivered as he realized just how cold the rain was. He was not wearing any sort of coat, so the rain fell thick and unhindered upon his already-numbing skin. If he did not find shelter and warmth soon, he would surely die.

Off in the distance, if he squinted, he could spot a small stone hut. If anyone lived in it, maybe they could help him.

Slowly, arms wrapped tightly around himself, he made his was towards it, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he would make it.

--

Ana had been walking for what seemed like hours and still the hut remained firmly in the distance. The sky had begun to become darker with the threat of nighttime. Ana knew he would not survive if did not make it before then.

He began to shiver more violently than before at the thought, not from cold but from fear. Loud sobs began to wrack his body until he couldn’t discern between them and the shivering.

“I do not wish to die!” he cried to nobody. “I did not wish for this horrible curse and I did not want to hurt anyone! Please, have mercy!” There was no answer to his pleas and he fell forward onto his knees into the mud, folding in upon himself in an attempt to preserve what little body heat he had left until his face was nearly touching the ground. His tears mingled with the raindrops falling steadily on him in a horrifying rhythm.

Ana couldn’t help but wonder who would miss him. It depressed him to think that the only one might be Emerith. And then again, being so young, he might not. Maybe it was a good thing, though. When he died, at least, he would not be hurting anyone he cared about.

“What are you doing out here?”

Ana whipped his head upwards, almost convinced the voice had been a figment of his imagination. But standing in front of him was a boy of about twenty with kind eyes and hair the color of the mud surrounding them. He knelt down beside Ana and removed the hooded cloak he was wearing. He wrapped it tightly around his shoulders and helped him up.

“You’re soaked to the bone. Let’s get you dry before you catch your death.” Ana allowed the boy to lead him, silently saying a prayer of thanks to the God who decided to listen.

--

As it turned out, the boy lived in the stone hut that Ana had so desperately been trying to reach. The boy led him inside and started a fire in the small fireplace. Helping him out of his wet, muddy, and ripped dress, he gave Ana a blanket to wrap himself in and made him sit in front of the fire to warm his skin while he looked for dry clothes.

Ana slowly rubbed his skin, smiling at the feeling that returned slowly. When the boy came back, he handed Ana a stack of soft brown clothes.

“They are my nightclothes,” he said. “I hope you do not mind that they are for boys.” Ana shook his head, and then his cheeks flushed as he realized what the boy had said. Clearly, the boy thought he was a woman. Luckily, he was able to keep his underwear on before, but if he was seen now…

“Could you…could you turn away please?” he asked timidly.

The boy chuckled. “Are you shy then? Ah well, of course I’ll turn away.” He did and Ana quickly changed into the clothes provided for him. When the boy turned back, he stared at Ana with a stunned look.

“In those clothes,” he said quietly, “you look almost like a boy.” Ana’s face turned bright red and the boy hurriedly said, “But…but it is not too much. Do not worry, it is not overly noticeable.”

Ana turned back to the fire. “It is all right.” He glanced again towards the boy. “Thank you for saving me. Would you please tell me your name?”

“Me? My name? My name is Donavan. I am the newly employed gardener.” He smiled brightly. “Would you be so kind as to tell me your name in return?”

“Analis,” Ana said. “My name is Analis.”

Donavan’s eyes widened. “Analis? Lady Analis?” Ana nodded and was surprised when Donavan dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I did not know,” he said sorrowfully. “Please forgive me for not treating you with the respect you deserve, My Lady.”

Ana found that Donavan bowing to him made him uncomfortable, so he bade him stand. “I do not care for such behavior. Many of the servants simply address me normally.” Or not at all, he silently added.

Donavan stood. “My Lady, it is much too late by now to escort you back to the castle. I hope your husband will not worry, but you must wait until morning.”

Ana shook his head. “Nobody will notice I am gone. It is fine.” He saddened as he realized the weight those words carried, and the unbearable truth behind them.

Suddenly, he felt his face being turned and soft lips were pressed against his own. But they were gone only a second later. Ana stared up at Donavan and touched the tips of his fingers to his lips. “What…?”

“You have too beautiful a face for so sad an expression to be upon it.” Donavan smiled. “I do hope I was not too forward.” Ana shook his head dazedly. He had been kissed before, of course, but never like that. It was a nice experience, to be sure.

“If you wish to sleep, you may,” Donavan said. “I will allow you to sleep in my bed and will watch over you to be sure no harm befalls you.”

“Oh…no, please, do not let me push you out of your own bed. I insist that if I sleep here you must as well.” Donavan wanted to protest, but Ana was persuasive. Eventually he agreed and they both climbed in to sleep. Ana was painfully aware of how much smaller the bed was compared to the one he and Femile shared at the castle. But it was better in some ways, and the warmth of Donavan’s back was soothing.

Donavan propped himself up on an elbow to look at Ana’s face. “Do not worry. I will not do anything you do not wish.”

Ana nodded slightly. “Do you promise?” he said, surprised even himself. Donavan was struck by just how fragile the expression on his face was. He cupped Ana’s cheek in one hand and ran his thumb over the smooth skin.

“I promise,” he breathed sincerely.

--

Screaming…death…demon eyes…the sound of ripping flesh…the overwhelming scent of rotting corpses…a floor soaked in blood, stained forever red…blank unseeing eyes…gaping mouths. The monster turns and regards him with rows of sharp teeth stretched into a horrifying grin. The feeling of hopelessness washes through him and even as his perspective changes and distorts he can still see the thing advancing on him. Pointed tongue and scratchy syllables form words far from human, words that seal the fate of all that hear them…

“My Lady! My Lady, please wake!”

Ana threw open his eyes and sat up quickly, gasping. It had been a dream?

“My Lady, are you okay?” Ana looked to Donavan with eyes still wide with fear. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a particularly loud sob.

His composure cracked and he was finding it increasingly harder to remain upright. Suddenly, he was gathered into a warm embrace, face buried in a slightly rough cloth. He fisted it tightly in both hands, afraid that if he let go he would find himself in the large, cold bed he and Femile shared. Or worse, back with Jihar the Demon in his parents’ home, watching him devour them with strong teeth. A worse hell could not be imagined.

When his crying ceased, Ana became aware that Donavan was stroking his hair in a calming, rhythmic manner. He smiled. His mother used to do that when he was small.

“My Lady? Are you still awake?”

Ana nodded. “I am. Thank you.” He sighed. “I am sorry that I woke you.”

“You could not help it. I do not blame you.” He kissed the top of Ana’s head tenderly. Ana flushed again, though in the dark it went unnoticed.

“Why do you do such things?” Ana asked quietly.

“If you do not like it, I can stop.”

“No!” Ana cried, startling even himself. “Please do not stop. It reminds me of my parents.”

“Your parents?” Donavan chuckled softly, though it was slightly bitter. “Not your husband?”

“My husband will not say my name,” Ana spat scornfully. “He is a truly contemptible being whom I hate.” He buried his face into Donavan’s collarbone. “You are a kind man, Donavan. I am glad to have met you.”

His face was tipped upwards so that, even in the dim light, Ana could clearly see Donavan’s eyes staring back at him. “I am glad to have met you as well, Analis,” he said sincerely. Lips were pressed to his once more and it lasted much longer than the one given before. Ana leaned into it eagerly. He clung to the fabric of Donavan’s shirt tightly enough for it to rip slightly. But neither of them cared.

Donavan broke the kiss and laid his forehead on Ana’s, gazing into his eyes once more. “My Lady,” he whispered, his lips brushing Ana’s skin. “I wish to make love to you. Will you allow it?” Dazedly, Ana nodded.

It was different from with Femile. Donavan was gentler and more aware of the being underneath him. His soft touches and kisses left over the pale skin made it burn. Ana found it difficult, with all the combined sensations, to not start panting outright.

When Donavan began removing his pants, Ana realized with a shock that he should not have agreed. Once Donavan discovered that he was, in fact, a boy, these feelings would cease. He would shun Ana, just like all the others. But it would hurt so much more, because Donavon had been the first in this castle to ever treat him like he was a person.

As Ana felt a hand brush over his manhood, he couldn’t stifle the groan that breached his lips. He clenched his eyes shut as Donavan questioningly felt it in the dark once more and braced himself for the rejection. Donavan would either leave him lying there, open and exposed, or order him outside to walk in the cold rain until he fell over in death.

Ana opened his mouth to plead against the latter, but when lips and tongue played over the sensitive skin, all that came out was a gasping cry. A pleasure much greater than that achieved with his own hand washed over him in waves, threatening to overwhelm him completely. It was both the most wonderful thing he had ever felt and the most horrible. When the mouth left him, he felt strangely exposed and had to resist the urge to curl up in a ball.

“Why did you feel the need to hide this?” Donavan said softly. “You are all the more beautiful for it.”

Ana stared in the dark, searching for Donavan’s eyes. “You do not mean that,” he said. “You cannot. I am not beautiful. I am a monster, a thing. I am a plague upon this earth with not enough courage to end my own wretched life.”

Donavan hovered over Ana and kissed him languidly. “Do not ever say that again. There are many beautiful things in this world, but I would give up looking at them for eternity if it meant I could gaze upon you instead.”

As he continued, Ana found he truly wanted it to go on. It hurt much less than with Femile and Donavan truly seemed to care about whether or not Ana was pleasured. He would not allow him to touch himself, but it was only habit that made Ana want to do it at all.

When they had reached their peaks and could hold on no longer, it was an intensity which turned Ana’s vision white and froze his voice in his throat. At the end of it, Donavan stayed with him, chest pressed tightly to Ana’s back. One of his arms was wrapped completely around his chest, and the other was resting comfortably on the other’s stomach, laced with Ana’s fingers. Donavan’s legs were fitted to the shape of Ana’s, so that they were touching at all angles.

Donavan laid his head near Ana’s ear and whispered, “Thank you…Ana.”

Ana smiled. “There is nothing to thank me for. It was a…enjoyable experience.”

Donavan laughed against his hair. “That is all you have to say? Fine, I will accept it. And I hope it was enjoyable enough for it to happen again?”

Ana lifted the hand on his stomach and kissed the knuckles gently. “I would like that very much.”

--

Ana and Donavan continued to see each other whenever they could. They had to be discreet, but it never became tedious. Just being together was enough.

It was not long before Donavan confessed his love and Ana timidly answered back. But with the utterance of the words, he found it to be truer than he had initially thought. Tears of joy ran down his face, which Donavan immediately kissed away.

Ana couldn’t remember ever being happier than he was at that moment. However, like most good things, it unfortunately had to come to an end. It was a short time before Emerith’s seventh birthday when they were finally caught.

Donavan had traveled to the castle to see Ana, since events had conspired against them and Ana hadn’t been able to travel to the garden in a while.

They had chosen an empty room, in a part of the castle nobody used. Their lust for each other rushed through their veins, fueling their bodies with energy.

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud bang. Femile stood in the doorway, a seething look on his face.

“One of the maids told me you were whoring around with a servant,” he said, his eyes narrowed at the pair. “But seeing it with my own eyes is an entirely different experience.”

Quickly, the two broke apart as Femile advanced upon them. He gripped Ana’s neck and pushed him cruelly against a stone wall, banging his head against the hard surface and causing his vision to swim.

“I should have known you were a whore from the beginning,” he said. “I should have ignored my father and made you a servant. Or better yet, fed you to the dogs.”

Ana pulled helplessly at the hand on his throat. It was becoming difficult to breathe. “Please…” he gasped, “Stop…”

“You believe you are in a position to be making requests?” He laughed contemptuously. “You are a waste of human life. I will do what I should have done a long time ago, right now.”

He was knocked off his feet by a sudden blow to the side of his head. Ana fell to the floor, gasping and choking for air. Donavan, who had been the one to punch Femile, fell upon him and gripped him by the neck in a similar fashion to how the King had grabbed Ana.

“You…will…not…harm…him…” he said, emphasizing each word by smashing his head on the stone under him. Blood began to pool under the golden head, and it wasn’t long before the fear-widened eyes rolled back into his head and closed. And still, Donavan continued.

Once Ana had gathered himself, he realized what Donavan was doing.

“No!” he cried, falling upon Donavan and pulling at his arms in an attempt to make him stop. He did, and looked slowly up at Ana.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, his eyes wide from a mix of adrenaline and shock. Ana nodded his head quickly and knelt down to inspect his husband. It was apparent that he was dead. The pool of blood and the angle of his neck certainly confirmed that.

He sat back and began rocking slightly. He had seen a dead body before, and the sight of Femile’s didn’t bring any good memories.

“You killed him,” Ana whispered. “Donavan, you killed him. He’s…he’s dead.”

He jumped when Donavan’s hand, stained with blood still, caressed his cheek. “He was going to hurt you,” he said. “I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

There was a scream from the doorway. They looked up to find a maid look horrified on the scene, then rushing away, no doubt to alert the authorities.

“You have to leave here,” Ana said quickly. “If they catch you, you’ll be hanged.”

“I won’t leave you,” Donavan said. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” Ana said forcefully. “Please, don’t make me endure the sight of you hanging.”

Donavan almost looked like he would protest again, but then seemed to realize the sense of it. He kissed Ana once more, lingeringly, and rushed out.

Ana was left alone with the corpse of his husband, blood creeping even closer. He backed himself up against the wall and curled in on himself. Closing his eyes, he prayed to all known Gods that Donavan would make it out of this town alive.

--

None of the Gods saw fit to listen that day it seemed. Donavan was caught almost a week later. He was to be hanged that day, in the middle of the town square. Ana debated against going, but then realized this would be the last time he saw Donavan.

Nevertheless, it was a painful experience. Donavan put on his bravest smile just for Ana, catching his face in the crowd.

“I love you,” he said, just before the trapdoor fell. And then he was gone. Ana stared at the body, willing it to move; willing Donavan to spring to life once more so he could answer. But he didn’t.

Ana wandered around the town in a daze, looking right through the people who bowed to him and offered their condolences for Prince Femile. What did they matter now? His love was dead, and he was alone.

He made up his mind to leave the town. Emerith would be taken care of by the maids. After all, they had nothing against him. The boy wasn’t truly his son anyhow. And when he was old enough, he would rule this desolate place. Or, if he was lucky, escape it as well.

Ana walked for days on end across seemingly endless earth and stone. He passed many towns, but ignored them all. There was only one he was interested in.

Finally, exhausted and nearly crippled with thirst and hunger, he came upon the charred remains of a town. The bases of the houses were vaguely discernable underneath the ash and dirt. Off in the distance, a stone well still stuck out of the ground. The crank, however, was splintered and unusable.

In Ana’s mind, wooden walls and thatched roofs sprang from the ground like daffodils in spring. The smell of horses and sweat floated through the air from the large barn that made up the center of the town. Pumpkins and squash from the fall harvest lay ripe and ready to be plucked from the ground within the fenced-off gardens of his parents’ house.

When he was little, his father would choose the largest pumpkin in the harvest and hollow it out. He would set Ana inside and pick it up, carrying him around the entire village, crying, “Pumpkin baby comin’ through! Make way for the pumpkin baby!” Ana smiled at the memory. He missed his father very much.

His mother never used to approve of all the things Ana would do as a child. He would often loiter around the barn, picking up pieces of straw and tickling everyone who went by with them. She tried to get him to act like a proper gentleman at least once a day, but it never suited him much.

He couldn’t remember the exact age when he first started borrowing the dresses of the little girls in town and wearing them. His parents never said anything about it, but instead sort of humored him. They probably thought it was only a phase, something that he would grow out of.

Ana had always been what people called a “clear-hearted child.” They said he was so pure and good that no color could ever describe him. Instead he was clear and untainted. So it was no surprise that when he found a demon in the woods-a small one on the verge of dying-he picked it up and nursed it back to health.

He took the demon, named Jihar, to the stables. He knew his parents would never approve, and wouldn’t allow it in the house. As it regained its strength, the demon took on the form of a little boy with big blue eyes and coppery hair. And he stayed with Ana long after he had regained his health. They became great friends, and in time the village came to accept him as just another one of the children. They never questioned who his parents were.

Jihar went home with Ana almost every day. As time went on, his friend whom he’d come to love began to act more and more possessive towards him. It got so bad that Jihar never spoke to his parents and would often grab his arm and yank him out of the room suddenly and without explanation.

Ana’s parents became concerned and told Ana not to play with Jihar anymore. Ana didn’t want to abandon his friend, but he didn’t want to disobey his parents either.

When he told Jihar this, the demon became furious. “You love them more than me!” he accused. Ana told him that since they were his parents that was to be expected, but this only served to anger Jihar further. He vowed that someday he would be the only one Ana loved, and then disappeared. Ana was sad, but soon forgot about his friend. And for a few years, his threat remained in the back of Ana’s mind.

The next time they met, it was not a happy reunion. Ana, who had strayed from the village against his parent’s wishes, returned to find it smoldering, charred and bloody corpses littering the ground around his feet. He stared in horror as Jihar stepped out of the throng, cradling his mother’s head almost lovingly against his chest in a semblance of the child he pretended to be. Ana fell to his knees in horror, unable to run.

The demon approached him, smiling a genuine smile, and stroked his cheek. “Now you see,” he said softly. “Now that I am the only one left that you love, we can be together.” Ana jerked away and told Jihar violently that he could never love someone that had murdered his family.

The childlike, calm demeanor Jihar held vanished replaced with one of pure rage. He told Ana that if he would not love him, then he would be locked away until he did. And that he would be miserable the rest of his life, even in happiness.

Ana shivered at the bad memory. He had thought he escaped from Jihar when he left with Femile, but the curse placed on him was too strong. It had followed him even that distance, and had spread to the innocent villagers. But Ana hadn’t died, which was the one thing he wished would have happened. Jihar would never have let him die.

“It is good to see you again. I trust you enjoyed your time in The Kingdom of the Sun?” Ana whirled around. A figure stood a few feet from him; a young man, similar to the form Jihar had taken when he was a child, but now he looked about his age. The man was smirking quietly at him, mirth twinkling in his eyes.

“Jihar,” Ana spat contemptuously. “It doesn’t surprise me that you would still hang around this place. You always did like to dwell.”

“No more so than yourself? And why, pray tell, have you returned? Trouble in paradise? Was the prince not to your liking?”

Ana swiped at the smirking demon, but Jihar sidestepped him easily.

“You knew!” Ana cried at him. “You knew things would turn out this way! I regret ever saving your miserable life! I should have left you to die in the woods, and none would have thought any worse of me! After all, who cares for a stinking, evil, horrible demon?!”

Instead of anger, the response Ana expected and was hoping for, Jihar grew sad. “You cared, at one time, Analis. Can’t you see that I fell for you from the moment I was healed? I couldn’t stand the thought of your love going to someone else. I wanted it, alone. For your love is more precious than that of the purest diamond, and to possess it…those other people didn’t appreciate your love. They took it for granted and wasted it. But I wouldn’t. I would hold it in the highest regard and keep it close to me even long after you died. You cannot imagine how it hurts to feel such a human emotion, and yet I will not give it up.”

Ana stared at the demon, who seemed so sincere. He believed that Jihar loved him-or at least, the demon parallel to love-but he could not return the feelings, nor forgive him for the slaughter of so many people. He was wrong about them; they had appreciated his love, more than Jihar could ever understand. They appreciated it simply by reciprocating it. Ana didn’t expect him to understand, but he couldn’t help but wish he did and make the demon see reason.

“If you truly love me,” Ana said evenly. “Then you will let me die.” Jihar shook his head furiously. Ana glared. He sat on the ashen ground, a defiant look on his face. “Then I will die of starvation,” he said. “It should not take long; I have had little to eat in the time I was traveling here.”

Jihar growled menacingly. “You will not.” Ana smirked triumphantly up at the demon as if to say, ‘And what will you do about it?’

Days passed, and Ana grew weaker and weaker. Jihar pleaded with the young man, trying to get him to see reason, but all he would say was, “I will be with you soon.” Jihar had no heart. It was an unethical device, especially in a demon, but if he had one, it would have broken over seeing the one he loved kill himself while he could do nothing more than stand idly by.

The demon sat by Ana’s side, even as he slept. Jihar himself could not sleep, so would content himself instead to watch Ana breathe. It was a horrible sight to see the drawn breaths grow shallower over time. And the screams even made his blood boil. It was grating and screeching and all he wanted was to make it stop.

Jihar grasped Ana in his arms tightly on the day he would certainly die. The dark green eyes were dull and unfocused, and his chest rose and fell in short, quick pants. “Why couldn’t you have loved me?” he asked. “You could have lived. You could have lived with me and I would be better than all of those people.

Ana shook his head. “It takes…more than one person,” he gasped. “You alone were not…enough. If you hadn’t…killed them all…maybe I would have…someday.” He gazed unseeingly at Jihar. “I would love you, Jihar, if only you would kill me. Allow me to die dignified.”

The demon searched the lifeless eyes. “If I kill you, you will love me? Truly?” Ana nodded. Jihar nodded his head and leaned forward, allowing his lips to brush against Ana’s. The boy did not respond, so he pressed harder. There, movement! He was sincere.

Jihar’s lips were cold and lifeless. It wasn’t much for a kiss. But when he pulled back, a genuine smile graced his features. “I have always wanted to do that. Ever since I first laid eyes on you. You were the most beautiful human I had ever seen. It is truly a pity it must end this way.”

He laid a hand on Ana’s shoulder gently, almost reverently. In seconds it morphed into an ugly claw which he dug into the boy’s skin and dragged down the length of the torso. There was a horrible ripping sound as both dress and skin were torn from the body in shreds. Ana gasped once and then began to laugh as blood flowing freely from the gaping wound.

“I am coming. Mother; Father; Donavan. I will see you so soon I can hardly stand the wait. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Jihar laid Ana down on the ground solemnly and began licking at the wounds, tasting the blood, marveling at how it seemed to match its owner perfectly. Vaguely, he could make out the heart beating just behind the white ribcage; slower and slower.

Jihar did not feel sad when the breathing finally stopped and the blood ceased to flow. The time for sadness was gone. Humans dwelled on the deaths of loved ones, but he was a demon. He would keep his promise and hold Ana’s love in himself for all eternity; whether it was truly given to him or not.

Sweeping lusty eyes over the body, he slowly devoured his love piece by piece until all that was left was a patch of blood in the dirt. The demon smiled in a way that was just shy of wicked and stood, casting one last glance around the dead town before transforming into a locust and flying away.