A/N: Okay kids, I finally got off of my ass and got something new going! I decided not to post until I had three chapters made, so here we go! Boys and girls, welcome to Beseech Nobility...

Darkness loomed over the mountainous lands, a silence so crisp one felt it could be cut with a knife. In the depths of the dense forests the rustlings could be heard of those who only came out to go bump in the night... The eyes glowing yellow; the shadows of the figures whipping across the mulch and crawling forest floor, making only slight sounds of perhaps wind passing through the wood, whistling abruptly and then disappearing once again, fading into the still night air.

The waters, reflecting the red moons magnificently haunting glow, stood still, peaceful and serene. Small animals would crawl towards the glassy liquid and would slowly lower their faces to its surface, knowing the dangers and monsters that lurked beneath those black waters, lying on the floors, waiting for such a creature to wander into its trap... The little demon let out a sharp, squealing shriek as it was suddenly pulled below the surface by a long, slimy green tongue that had burst forth but a moment before. And once again, all was silent, the ripples from the disturbance quelling and the scene retaining its earlier peacefulness.

The great rolling hills lead on for what seemed like miles, and slowly the area would become more and more barren and dead, leaving only small shrubs and much dirt for those within the scene to live off of. But, follow this lifeless land and it will lead you to the greatest of mountains; the Wajiou Mountains. Tall and strong, cavernous and well vegetated, what more could the people living within the caves wish for? There was but one young man who did wish for more...

A sigh reverberated throughout the shadowy figures chest. His posture slumped and tired, resting his chin on his palm, his elbow propped up upon the windowsill.

"Bored," He sighed, his voice nothing more than a low hiss. Tapping his long, manicured claws against the windowsill, the man stared out longingly into the deadened night before him. "Always so damn bored..." Standing from his place on the divan, the man glides across the room with a profound grace, weightlessly moving around the cavernous space in which he called his home. "Shackles," He whispered, running his claws along the wooden framework of the four-poster bed. "Shackles and chains which drag us beneath the surface, the surface of our sanity and decency..." He smirked, having said such a line many times in his years, also having been punished many times for doing so...

Slipping into the cool sheets, the man stared into the darkness, his eyes dilating widely, as if attempting to direct what little light came from the window into the images appearing before him. Staring up at the ceiling, he watched a beetle weave its shining, thick body between roots, proving themselves to be obstacles in way of its goal to obtain...well, probably what the little creature itself didn't even know.

The man watched the little creature enviously. The freedom and ability to wander wherever one wished; never having to discuss such matters with another, and especially ask permission to do so. It was such a great feat to him, he didn't even know whether the prospect was thrilling, or mortifying. Though, yes, he had little freedom and his life was bland on a thrilling day, it was not poor. He knew this, though he wished that it wasn't so. Sometimes he just needed to pity himself a little, even if just to feel like the victim for a moment of two.

Closing his eyes, the man sighed softly, deciding to give in, once again, and call it a night.

--

Dawn broke over the lands, the grounds and skies being bathed in a sea of thick orange light, casting low, haunting shadows on the lands. Upon the mountains, a great horn was sounded, a deep, gloomy sound that rang throughout the people's homes, initiating the start of the day.

What seemed like only moments later, the bazaar was filled with people, each seeming more frantic and rushed than the last. Pushing and shoving their ways through the crowds, shouting over the other merchants, demanding the attentions of the people, and bartering with one another, the town seemed to be full of life, as expected. It seemed as if everything was run by a simple schedule, a schedule that went something like this; rise, trade, eat, trade, or work, eat again, and sleep. Such is the life of a peasant, no matter what ethnicity. But not everyone got to enjoy such simple pleasantries.

"Are you even listening to me?" The white haired man asked with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry," The much younger man said, snapping out of a daze. "What did you say, Meirokai?" Meirokai sighed again.

"Really young master," The white haired old man reprimanded. "You should at least pretend to listen to me; I am to be your advisor one of these days."

"Yeah," The young man snorted with a slightly arrogant air. "Whenever the old bastard finally drops dead that is..."

"Master Majai," Meirokai gasped, as if appalled. "You mustn't speak so ill of your kin."

"It's just us," Majai argued, sounding disinterested.

"Yes, but it need not matter who you are with, you must be humble to your king, my master..."

"If I'm your master, why are you always bossing me around?" Meirokai smirked, still looking somehow threatening, even on his strong face.

"You are my master second; your grandfather is my master first. I take his orders, not yours."

"Seems a little moronic that you should be addressing me as your master if you're not even going to listen to me..." Majai sighed, tightening the band that encased his long plum colored hair into its ponytail.

"See it however you will," Meirokai grunted. "That is not of my concern. But you must be getting on to your grandfathers chambers soon, he is expecting you."

"Yes, I know..." Majai sighed. "Why do I have to see him anyways?"

"Because he has requested your presence," The white haired advisor said quietly.

"Yes, but we never speak of much, even when he does request my audience..."

"That is of his right," Meirokai smirked. "He is your king..." With a chillingly cryptic smile, Meirokai turned and wandered back on down the hall, the sleeves of his robes dragging on the ground, making the smallest of sounds.

Watching his retreating form for some moments, Majai sighed and turned back to the stairwell the old man had lead him to. With a heavy sigh, he began his less-than-enthused journey up the great stone stairs, wandering towards his grandfather's chambers.

--

The door creaked open, the hinges making an almost shrill, bone chilling sound. Lying in the great four-poster bed, located in the very center of the cavernous room, was a frail looking old man, his eyes opening slightly to watch the visitor's entry into his domain.

"Good morning my king..." The man said quietly, bowing slightly.

"What do you want?" The bedridden king snarled, though his voice was anything but menacing with the low, scratchy tone. The man stood up fully, staring at the king with an almost disgusted expression. "Oh, Majai my boy..." The man mumbled, waving his hand to his grandson, still standing in the entrance of his room. Majai wandered into the room somewhat hesitantly, not entirely sure if he wanted to be in here or not. "Come now," The king snapped. "I'm not going to bite you boy!" Majai stood right at the king's bedside and watched the decrepit old man's eerie, clouded white gaze fall upon the tattoo located on his well defined chest.

"You wished to see me?" Majai asked, concealing his displeasure with this dying man before him.

"Is it so much of a chore to come visit your passing paterfamilias?" Majai bowed his head, as if shamed, hiding his sneer from the old man.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to seem bothered, my king." The old man smiled, almost cruelly.

"Of course not," He agreed. "When you love and cherish me so..." Majai had to use every fiber of his being not to throw an absolute tantrum. The king seemed to take note of this. "What are you going to do Majai?" He whispered, his eyes barely opened, but watching the young man with intent. "Are you going to kill me?" Majai's hands curled into fists, his sharp claws digging into his smooth palms. His body became as tense as a spring, quelling the urge to attack the man where he lay.

"Of course not, my king..." Majai whispered, his claws only intensifying the hold he had on his palms.

"You want to..." The man smirked, his cloudy eyes locking with the blood dripping from the young man's hands. "I bet you wish that was my blood trickling through your fingers..." He whispered, almost sounding pleased. "You wish to have those claws digging into my throat, tearing into me, rupturing what you can get your hands on..." Majai's body was shaking, his claws sinking so deeply into his hands that he almost wished to scream in pain. But he also wished to maintain his dignity... "You want to kill me boy, so why not just do it?"

"I refuse..." Majai hissed, his voice somewhat stilted.

"Why do you refuse yourself this pleasure?" The king whispered, watching him closely, looking amused. "Why should you refuse yourself any pleasures, you are to be a king someday..."

"Not for a long while yet." Majai mumbled.

"Thankfully," The king said simply.

"And what is that to mean, master Juikan?" Majai asked, sounding annoyed. His voice still had hints of his previous agitation and self inflicted pain.

"You do not wish to be an heir to our throne." Juikan said simply, reverting his gaze to the ceiling once again. His misty eyes flicked back to the young man, though in his mind, child, before him.

"I do not..." Majai clarified, his stare holding the pale, wrinkled face.

"Why do you not wish to have everything I had?" Juikan asked, watching the boy's face.

"You had nothing..." Majai hissed; his voice low.

"I had more than you could ever dream of..." Juikan snarled, his eyes becoming cold and harsh.

"Materialistically, sir, you had everything, that I will not deny, but what about everything else that is said to make life worth living?" The withered old king before him knitted his eyebrows in confusion. "Love, friends...?"

"They are not needed in our world..." Juikan whispered, resting back against his pillow, looking extraordinarily weary.

"They are needed in every world." Juikan's eyes gravitated back to the ceiling, ignoring the man next to his side for a moment.

"Not in ours..." He said finally, his voice low and tired. "We are kings, you and I, why must we busy ourselves with nonsense such as love?"

"Everyone needs love in their lives my king, even you and I..." Juikan turned to his grandchild and watched him for some moments.

"I'm glad you're not the first to my throne." He said suddenly, his eyes closing and fluttering back opened every few seconds, as if he was too weak to keep them open on his own accord. "You're weak..." He hissed, though only half heartedly from exhaustion. "A weak, pathetic coward... It is within your blood right to take my throne, and yet you wish not to have it, for a love you do not even have..." Majai glared at the old man, his eyes burning with intense anger. "And admit it," He continued. "You did not kill me because you were too afraid that you would be found out, for having murdered your own grandfather..." Majai shifted, though his glare did not move an inch. "You're just too pathetic..."

"Shut up! Shut up you miserable old bastard!" Majai screamed finally, slamming his fists down on either side of the old man's face, hitting the pillows. "I didn't kill you," He hissed, leaning right into the wrinkled face, mere centimeters away from the tip of the peeling nose, staring into those clouded eyes. "Because I want to watch you die as slowly and as painfully as you possibly can." They continued staring into one another's eyes, locking their intense gazes and glaring harshly. "I want to see you suffer..." Juikan smirked.

"Not as horribly spineless as I had assumed I suppose..." He smirked. "But spineless nevertheless..." He lay back on the pillows, closing his eyes wearily, though this exhausted gesture did nothing to quell Majai's urge to strangle the old bastard where he lie. "You are to be a great warlord, why must you persist to be obstinate?"

"I feel I am not obstinate, my king. I am just stating my opinion on the matter, and if that makes me pertinacious, so be it." Juikan cracked open on of his eyes and watched his only grandchild for a moment.

"Your opinion matters not to me, nor any other in this castle, so keep it to yourself, you stupid child." Majai's eyes drew to slits, and his lips pursed in annoyance. "You are to be a great warlord," The king repeats. "So stop thinking like a child, and start acting like a man."

"I am a man." Majai hissed; his voice dropping substantially, almost into a maniacal whisper. Juikan just snorted where he lie, this little action sending him into a great fit of coughs. Clearing his throat, he looked over to his kin.

"Trust me boy," He whispered, his voice scratchy. "When you're a man, I'll be the first to let you know..." Juikan sighed as he closed his eyes, his breathing labored. "Get out of my chambers, you inconsiderate brat." He waved his wrinkled hand as he said this, the veins practically glowing through the translucent sheet of skin. "I have had enough of your company." He said it so sarcastically, it made Majai see red.

"Good day, my king," He mumbled, bowing low.

"Yes, yes," Juikan whispered, waving his hand again. "Stop pretending to be pleasant and get out..." Majai straightened and left the room, unable to stop himself from slamming the doors shut behind him. The gigantean bang echoed down the hall, startling the little maid that came bustling towards the chambers with the kings breakfast.

"Morning," He grunted at the young girl, not looking up from the floor. Her small chest was rising and falling sporadically from her prior shock.

"Good morning, my prince." She bowed breathlessly. Majai smiled apologetically at her.

"I'm sorry Konami, I didn't mean to startle you there..."

"Oh," She squeaked, her cheeks flushing pink. "That's quite alright my prince..." Majai smiled a little tightly and nodded, allowing the girl to take the tray into the old man's chambers.

"My prince, my prince," He whispered mockingly, annoyed. Why was he always just that: a prince, never Majai, just 'you're highness'... It sickened him how much these idiots would do, just to ensure his happiness and comfort... Didn't they have family they should be worrying about? That's probably why he never asked for much from the servants, almost feeling regretful after he made even the smallest of requests. Juikan had always been a demanding ruler, always ensuring that his harem was close, and his wine was closer. Such a bitter and cold heart the man had. And he had always had it, well that is what Majai assumed, due to the fact that that's how he had always been in the three hundred years he had known him.

I am far from the throne, so why must I "practice" for it as if it is nearly in my possession? He thought, annoyed. All his life it had always been, do this, don't do this, see here, stop that, don't do that! Never could he have played. Never could he have any fun with the other children. No, never, he was a prince, and thus superior. What a lie... He didn't feel superior to anyone, so why he was treated as such had always confounded him.

Majai wandered down the hallways slowly, watching the paintings, vastly hung on the walls, change in style and appearance, due to the year they originated in. Kings and queens over the ages, dating back by thousands of years; their garbs changing drastically to the painting just next to it... Finally, his eyes landed on the last painting hanging in the great hallway.

A king, his eyes an icy shade of blue, his hair, that of platinum blonde...a beautiful man with a cold, scornful look marring his delicate, and some would say feminine, face. His lower half was covered in beautifully shining, metallic silver scales, and a small scrap of cloth hung over the essentials. His body rippled with muscle, every line and hollow perfectly sculpted, radiating power and strength. A tribal looking tattoo was placed on his lower pectorals, and upper abdominal region, giving him a sexy kind of air. His arrogance also just seemed to further this notion, an undeniable pride and confidence shining in his cold, unforgiving eyes.

Majai's gaze dropped to the inscription beneath the painting, sitting upon the wall on a tablet: Juikan. Majai sighed to himself and looked back up at the once strong and beautiful man. Look at what he had become, look at what he was. He was now nothing more than a withered, pathetic mess, but he could remember the days when his grandfather had looked exactly like this man before him on the canvas. After all, it was less than a year ago that he had looked identical to the portrait, which held a perfect likeness to him.

Naga's age much differently than other species, where in it's a long process over many years. Naga's would obtain an adult form at the age of about eighteen, and they would retain such a form until approximately a year before their dying day, where in which they would age so drastically their entire body could not take it and they would be bedridden, barely able to feed themselves, or move.

Juikan had been stuck in his bed for eight and a half months now, and they were just waiting with baited breath, and in Majai's case crossed fingers, for the kings' final breath.

Tearing his eyes away from the face of the man he loathed so much, Majai turned and wandered back down the hall slowly, his massive lower half following behind him by many meters.

"Master Majai," A deep voice snapped from behind him. Ah, yet another title he hated...

"Yes, Meirokai," The prince asked, twisting his long, human-like torso around to look at the old man, coming up behind him.

"It is time for your lessons, Master Majai." Majai sighed, running his fingers through his long plum colored ponytail, tightening the golden band that bound his hair in its place.

"Do we have to?" Majai asked with a sigh, sounding tired.

"Master Majai, was your meeting with the king so tiresome?"

"Yes," He answered shortly, and unapologetically. Meirokai sighed heavily.

"Why do I put up with such talk?" He asked, though Majai knew that it wasn't aimed at him, but most likely and unseen force, knowing the old man like he did. Meirokai was one of the few Naga's on this entire planet that had outlived his supposed expiration date, now well into his 28,000's, though he looked no older than twenty, of course.

"Because you like me, admit it!" Majai laughed, smiling brightly at his mentor.

"Only if I must, young master..." Meirokai chuckled. Majai grinned and the two slithered down the corridor, making way for the library to continue their studies. History, so much history that Majai really didn't like learning, but was forced to endure...

--

The wind rustled the leaves of the massive trees, standing what seemed like miles high, and meters thick. Shadows whipped through the air, eyes glowing, and fangs gleaming in the haunting moonlight. A lone figure stumbled somewhat drunkenly through the everglade, their left hand clutching their right arm, which hung by their side limply. The breathing was ragged, the scent of sweat clinging desperately to the air, the salty water sliding down their jaw and brow. The shadows whipped around the figure quickly, licking their fangs and snapping their claws, ready to strike.

"What is it that you seek?" The figure rasped, their voice weak, but somehow slightly intimidating. The shadowed creatures said nothing but began roaring and snapping their teeth. "A meal...?" The figure chuckled, standing up straight with minor difficulty, their breath hitching slightly.

The beasts charged and a blinding light tore through the glade, charring many of the trees and shrubs. The figure panted, standing alone in the glade, the only sound was that of their breaths and the feet running what seemed to be away from the panting silhouette.

Looking at the damage the figure raised their right hand, which was trembling, the appendage covered in bandages. In a swift movement the person whipped their hand through the air, blood splattering against the foliage. The crimson liquid seemed to absorb into the wood and leaves, the charred and burnt areas in the woods suddenly reappearing.

"I'm sorry," The figure sighed, looking at the trees and shrubs, re-growing. "I meant not to hurt you... Forgive me?" A gentle breeze fluttered through the little space and a leaf swirled past the figure, brushing against their cheek, their eyes closing in response. The person's knees gave away, sending them collapsing onto the hard earth beneath them. They seemed not to notice, for they just whispered into the still night air, "Thank you..."

--

Majai watched the night absently, through his window, a dull expression on his face. He sat up, somewhat surprised. A light, a distant light flashed within the dense forests and never-ending meadows.

"What is that?" He mumbled to himself, standing up to investigate, just as his door opened.

"And where do you think you're going?" An unusually deep voice chuckled.

"I saw something...Something in the window..." The man in his doorway raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"And...?"

"I should look into it..." He wasn't feeling so sure now...

"I don't think there is need. Whatever it was has probably long since been eaten by some other creature."

"But father..."

"Sit," His massive father smirked, interrupting him. The naga slid into his room as he sat down looking annoyed, with his usual smirk in place. Standing well over a foot taller than him, Majai had always felt intimidated by the 2,000 year old man. "Visit your grandfather today?"

"Yes sir," Majai mumbled. Juikan's son, Naliju, smirked, his long sharp fang pressing against his skin.

"What did he say?"

"He hopes I never get his throne and I'm a pathetic little child." Majai snorted. Naliju let out a booming laugh, as he always did.

"Poor thing," He snickered. "You need not fear him, my son. He is nothing to what you can be."

"I don't know sir..." Majai sighed.

"I know," Naliju said simply, as if that finalized the matter. "You can do great things if you tried."

"If I set my mind to it...?" Majai smiled at his father, as if mocking him. Naliju grinned and nodded.

"Precisely, so have a little faith in your abilities, my son."

"But father," Majai sighed. "I don't feel like I'm going to be some great ruler, I just feel like I'm going to lead to the annihilation of our kind..." Naliju let out another booming laugh, finding his son's inner turmoil amusing.

"Is that your greatest fear of gaining ownership?" Naliju asked, watching his son, still looking decidedly amused.

"Of course it is..."

"Has nothing to do with your bride?" Majai seemed to deflate at the mention of his fiancée. "Ah, so that is it..."

"Why must I get married?" Majai asked, though he knew the answer.

"Make yourself some heir's boy! I recommend you get started right now, in all honesty..." Majai blushed furiously.

"Father, I do not want to talk about...making heirs with you!" Naliju laughed his loud, brilliant laugh once again.

"You needn't begin this second, but I recommend soon, at least sometime in the next decade."

"I barely even know her..." Majai sighed. "It's not like I love her..."

"What does love have to do with marriage?" Naliju sighed, sitting on his son's bed.

"Well I would hope that it should mean something to someone..." Majai sighed.

"I love none of my wives."

"How can you," Majai stated wryly. "Not only are they all insufferable, but you have six of them."

"Now, one of them is your mother, you know..."

"Of course I do," Majai grumbled. "Doesn't mean she's not insufferable..."

"All of them are." Naliju stated calmly, shrugging his shoulders, as if he was not at all affected by the attitudes of his wives. "I have concubines for company, if needed." He muttered, running a hand through long hair. "As do you..."

"I don't think I will be requesting their particular services anytime soon..." Majai said, as if appalled with the very notion of using a whore for what her purpose in life really was.

"Suit yourself..." Naliju sighed, shrugging. "They're better company than your wives, I assure you..." Majai looked up into his father's face and stared at him for a moment. Such sadness... A man whom everyone presumed had everything, looked as if he had nothing at all. Naliju stood up and sighed. "Go to sleep boy, and stop looking out that window," He grinned at the much younger naga. "It seems to give you crazy ideas." Majai nodded.

"Goodnight father," Majai mumbled.

"Goodnight Majai..." Naliju said without looking behind himself, shutting the door. Majai turned back to the window and watched the same place, his eyes locking with the terrain in the distance. He waited but it seemed that his father was right. Whatever it had been was gone. With a sigh, the heavyhearted prince went to his bed and lay down, watching a beetle overhead.

--

I kneeled on the ground for an uncertain amount of time. The only thing I could feel was my chest rising and falling, and the bugs crawling on my body, as if I were a corpse, just waiting to decay here on the forest floor. The sweat rolled off of my face and I slowly attempted to crawl towards what I knew was a cave but a few yards ahead. But I couldn't do it. I was just too tired...

"Ya'halana, help me..." In that next instant, everything went black.