Angel of Misery.

Are some simply born with black blood pumping through their hearts? Was he?

O' child with your hair as black as sulfur and your lucifer blue eyes. Were you not born a demon would your heart have been twisted?

I remember the day you met her. That girl that could save you.

She favored you, Sartok. Her hair was like a mane of raven's feathers and her eyes were so blue they seemed lavender. But she did not have your golden skin. Her's was pale like the moon while yours was like the sun.

Moon and sun. Eternal lovers. Perhaps I missed the omen but I did love you so, Sartok, my little demon prince. You were so different from your brothers. Your wings burned with the burden you carried, those beautiful black wings. Always smoldering with fire, like you yourself were burning inside out.

And that girl. Her heart burned for you but the rest of her was as cold as ice. The Black Landish girl you called Surrian.

I just want you to know I forgive you, my son.

* * *

“You all hate me so much,” the tears burned his cheeks, “I can just as easily learn to hate you!”

The voice that answered him was soft and not one of his own, “Why would you wish to do that?”

Startled, the young prince turned his molten red/orange eyes to the speaker. He blushed instantly: she was the first girl who had spoken to him without fear.

She was small and fragile, with skin as pale as the moon. Her hair was so black it shone blue in the fading sun glimmering off the forest trees. Her head cocked to the side curiously and her eyes were lavender. Blue and purple at the same time. “Wondrous...”

“What is,” he snapped, but his seven year old's voice didn't sound as threatening as he wanted.

His blush deepened as she crept upon his personal rock and cupped his face between her small hands, “Hey-!”

“Your eyes are wondrous,” she said softly, “How do you get them to swirl like lava?”

He stared into the swirling blues and lilacs of her eyes feeling something swell in his stomach. He took her hands and pulled them away, “They just do...when I'm upset or angry, alright?”

“Yes, it is.” She sat down next to him, “You have just what I was looking for!”

Sartok glared at her suspiciously, his small but toned body curling up instinctively as though she meant to strike him. She would not be the first.

Instead, she pulled a large, leather-bound book from her satchel and flipped through it. The pages were decorated with images that both terrified and fascinated him. “This is Faust, it is my favorite,” she told him, “I think you have the perfect voice for Faust and Mephistopheles.”

“Who-?” But she pointed out the lines and upon her demand he read. And read and read. The sun vanished, making him sleepy, but he was also too exhilarated to stop. They had started in the middle of the book and finished completely.

“That was lovely! You have my thanks, demon,” she cooed, tucking the book away.

“My name is not 'demon'...” He frowned.

“Than what is it?”

“...Sartok.”

“Alright, Sartok. Can we play again?”

Surprise and gratitude overwhelmed him. “You aren't-?”

“Scared,” her smile was lopsided and strange but he found it thrilling, “Not at all, my silly demon friend.”

He stared at her as she jumped down from the rock. Her black dress with it's strange furls and ribbons swelled around her white panties as she landed.

Under the crisp blue moon her eyes took on a red shine, “Can we?”

“S-Sure...,” he nodded, “But...how will I find you?”

“I shall find you!” And with that the night seemed to swallow her in a mist of shadows.

* * * *

The universe does not punish you for your hopes but rather what you cannot see happening. He sighed as he waited for the moon girl to appear once more but it was hopeless.

She was not coming back. She hated him. She had pitied him and that had been it.

Sartok felt the tears push at his eyes. “Stupid girl. It figures...it's your fault!” He punched his right wing up, grimacing at how it burned his knuckles.

That was when he heard the giggling. It was cut off with a quick splash.

The river.

He ran from the rock and half ran, half flew to the river side. As though by magic the girl poked her head up from the crystalline waves beneath the waterfall, “Ah! There you are! You aren't very good at hide and seek are you?”

Sartok couldn't help but smile. The relief was more than worth the anguish her absence had caused, “I thought you wouldn't come.”

She looked at him as though what he said was in tongues. “Come in, demon boy!”

Without bothering with his pants he dived in after her. He typically ran around bare chested as did both his brothers.

They talked and swam for many long hours in the dusk. He learned two things that night besides how good it could feel to have someone smile and laugh with you:

Her name was Surrian. And he had made a friend.