This is a flashback chapter concerning Avel. It contains mentions of especially dark/gore-y topics (torture, death, etc.), but if you've read this far, you already know Hearts are very messed up,,,

I know this story has been real, real dark lately but next chapter onwards things will start looking up, promise (I'm kinda concerned, as even I didn't expect my ideas to go this far, so hopefully you guys are okay with this level of darkness/gore. Please tell me if I'm getting out of hand lol)

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FLASHBACK: DESCENT TO MADNESS

~13 years ago~

He cracks open his eyes to better percieve his situation. Blackness engulfs him, leaving him blind to everything in his vicinity. Motionless, restrained. He's as good as dead, a lamb awaiting slaughter.

No matter his attempts to wrench his arms free, the narrow straps dig deeper into his flesh. His strength ebbs, he breathes at longer intervals, and his heart beats in painstakingly slow rhythms.

   "Avelious."

   "M...other..." He can barely make out the blurry figure before him—process his croaky whisper. "Is that you?"

   The hand that cups his cheek answers it straightaway. "My dear," she coos, tilting his chin and forcing his gaze to hers, "your eyes are all swollen from crying. I take it you've had enough time to reflect upon your actions, correct?"

   "Yes, Mother."

   Amidst this dark and musty cellar, the Queen of Hearts' wide smile is astoundingly bright. "You won't dare ask to go outside and play with the other children will you?"

   "No. I'll stay inside. I'll study my magic. I promise I'll do anything you say." Fresh tears stream from his eyelids, stinging the cuts and bruises of his face. One by one, they plop to the ground—a place he yearns for his feet to touch. The chains binding all four of his limbs dangle him from the roof, and clatter as he attempts to move. However, through the pain, and his minimal strength, it's futile. "So," he pleads again, pathetically to his mother, "please let me go. It hurts. It really, really hurts."

   "Does it now? My, that's amazing."

   "I can't feel my arms. I—I... think they're broken."

   Estelle reaches for his thin arm. "Broken? Of course not. I only asked the guards to make it hurt as much."

   Still smiling, she gently caresses his aching limb, as if willing the pain disappear.

   Then, in her next heartbeat, she snaps it.

   The pain is unbearable. Nausea swallows him in one fell swoop, and even without seeing his now deformed arm, hanging limp in its bind, he screeches. Uncontrollably. Pathetically. The child can't do nothing but vomit over the floor all over again.

   "See, now this is what a broken arm feels like. Do you understand the difference, my dear?"

   "M-Mo..."

   "Avelious, think closely to what kind of pain you're in and answer me this," Estelle coos, stabbing her nails so deep into his shoulder blade she nearly yanks it off. "Do you love me?"

   "Y-yes, Mother."

   "If I break your other arm will you still love me?"

   He shakes, reeling away. "P-p-please no. I-I don't want th-that—AHH!?"

   "Avelious," she says, watching him writhe with a loving blush crossing her cheeks, "now that I've broken both your arms, do you still love me?"

   He can barely see straight anymore.

   "Do you still love me, Avelious?" she presses dangerously.

   "Y-y-yes," he cries out, desperately, pitifully. "I love you, Mother. I love you, so—"

   "Good boy," she says, grinning again. She strokes his bony thigh. "If I break your left leg will you still love me?"

   "B-but—"

   He screams out again.

   "Avelious, now that I've broken your arms and leg, do you still love me? You do, don't you?"

   He can no longer heave a proper breath—muster his voice.

   A Number overseeing this, steps in. "Your Majesty, he's barely alive. After the torture we put him through, if you don't stop this, he'll—"

   She kills him with the wave of her hand by the ice magic she wields beneath her fingers.

   Then, bringing her face and sweetened countenance to Avel's, coos, "Giving up already? Is your love for your mother that weak? It's nowhere near enough to reach me."

   She backs away with a sigh. He's passed out.

   "We have much to do if you're to be ready for the Divine Right." Without batting a single eyelash, Estelle pivots on her heel and calmly ambles for the exit of the cellar. "Treat him," she tells the loitering quack. "And as soon as he's awake, call for me."

   "Yes, Your Majesty!"

   Estelle's scowl portrays her dissatisfaction. "You better not disappoint me, Avelious."

♥♦♣♠

"Aren!" Estelle swings her arms around the tall man, clinging tightly to his torso. "You're home!"

The King of Hearts emits an amused chuckle. "Estelle, how are you? Has Avel been giving you trouble?"

   "Just today the boy crash-landed when practicing his levitation magic," she lies through her smile. "He's in his room now trying to figure out where he went wrong."

   "Estelle..."

   "Yes, dear?"

   "Don't you think you're being too hard on him? He's young, and you aren't allowing him to explore Straeh at all. He always asks to accompany me for work, but you insist on keeping him confined to the palace..."

   Aren removes his stethoscope, and stuffs it inside his doctoral bag. Estelle admires his hat, and well-defined jaw, then clutches his forearm.

   "Your smile is extremely stunning today, dear."

   "Another compliment?" He shakes his head. "I'm not so easily won by— Really?"

   Estelle and him share childish giggles as they ramble about nonsensical matters. About the family of three he's tended to in Compa, and Leste—even the Spades who lived in Pashee. Aren glistens with pride as he tells her of it all—long forgotten his previous inquiry of their son—while Estelle gratuitously listens. But when he's ushered off by a servant, and she's been abandoned within the grand room, her smile vanishes. She stares upon the king's throne with zero emotion.

   "Constantly leaving... Showing others your love and affection besides me... It's unfair, Aren," she muses to herself. "The King of Hearts must be loyal to his Queen and nobody else. He mustn't bestow attention to anyone but her. Even on his deathbed he should willingly grovel for his one and only lover to be the one to slaughter him. He should rely on his Queen to both make and break every portion of his life. Utterly, entirely, insanely—he should be hers and hers alone. Ah, all mine, forever and ever... How romantic."

   She runs her finger along the railings of the seat before cupping her cheek.

   There isn't enough loyalty—enough pain—for there to be complete love. When she'd come to realize that undeniable truth for all Straeh residents—that none possess an affection strong enough to go mad—it was too late to live each passing day in peace.

   "Are you sure you aren't thinking this way because of your insecurity?"

   The voice disrupts her train of thought.

   "'What is he doing with those people he calls 'clients'?' 'Why does he never talk to me with such adoration in his eyes?' 'Does he truly love me as much as he says?' The fear of the unknown—that he'll one day abandon you—is twisting you, slowly but surely."

   Grounding her teeth, Estelle addresses the cloaked figure lurking in the shadows of the room. They've visited multiple times before, peering into the depths of her heart, grounding her to a reality that's the furthest place she wants to be.

   Those who wield the Lotuses are to be feared.

   "What is wrong with a little insecurity?" Estelle replies, lips curling upwards and stretching to her ears. "It's Aren's fault for making me feel this way. His love is all wrong. Favouring his work—the well-being of his citizens—as much as his wife? He doesn't deserve the title of 'King of Hearts.' No, the King of Hearts should be much more devoted—loyal..."

   "Are you free of sin yourself? Work aside, haven't you been cheating on him also? Perhaps you've stopped loving him as much as you say."

   "I do love him." Her answer is instantaneous, even as she unconsciously rubs her belly in remembrance. "It is because I love him I have to steer him on the right path. I must be the one to change this nation. Even if it isn't something Aren can see now, he will be grateful. I know it."

   The cloaked figure stalls a beat.

   "I see," they finally sigh. "So you've chosen madness."

   Their voice echoes even as they take their leave.

   "This jinx you cast upon Straeh will surely end in tragedy."

   Estelle cackles upon being left alone once more.

   "Let me go mad! Let everyone go mad! I'm not wrong with my thinking. Straeh will change for the better. It is only a matter of time until all the pieces are set. And it will all start and end with him."

♥♦♣♠

   "Your mother wishes to see you."

   A pool of terror twists Avel's gut. His eyes dart to the open window behind the headboard of his bed, then down to his cast up limbs. Upon realizing escape is futile, colour drains from his complexion. His pulse quickens.

   "Avelious, are you feeling better?"

   "I-I'm sorry, Mother," he stammers rapidly, unable to even meet her eyes amid the fright that claims him. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. I won't do anything again. I'll listen to only you and nobody else. I'll love you more and more from now on so please don't—"

   He's silenced by an embrace. His eyebrows dart upward as his mother tightens her arms around him, bringing his tear-soiled face into her chest.

   "Why must you be so apologetic, my dear?" Her voice trembles as she withdraws. And upon glancing at his face, she softly cups his cheek, brushing away his tears. Her eyes are red, nose as well, clouded by immense sorrow. "My poor baby... You're in such terrible shape. Even your eyes are clouded by nothing but fear."

   She plays with his strands of hair. Unlike the merciless woman he's seen in the hindsight of the king, there's this side as well. Her personality has always been something he can never get a hold on. At the same time she can be exceptionally brutal, emotions like regret and compassion flood her as soon as the next day. Since she's always so on-and-off, he can never grasp the gist of what mood she'll be in.

   His heart weighing in his chest, newfound tears spring forth into Avel's eyes. He finds himself snivelling like a newborn baby before long. She hugs him tighter, keeping him close.

   "Mother," he sputters through his crying, "d-do you hate me?"

   A gasp leaves her mouth. She retreats her icy palm from his cheek. "Why would you ever suggest such a thing?"

   "B-because," he sniffles, "you always tie me up and hurt me."

   "Avelious," she whispers. He peers through his blurry vision from tears, and she carries a sternness in her gaze. "You are next in line to be the King of Hearts. As your mother it makes sense that I'm harder on you than most. I want you to be the best King of Hearts our kingdom has ever seen and to do that, I need to teach you what it really means to be a Heart."

   "Wh-what it means? But Father is the best Heart."

   "He doesn't love enough," Estelle concludes. "If he did, he would love me to the point of insanity. He would grovel at my feet to give him pain because he'd want nobody but me to..." Banishing the monologue, she scoops up his face and meets his identical eyes. "I want you to realize the marvellousness of love, my dear. That it's because of love I can be tough on you to get you to the top. That it's because of love that I can embrace you so gently and wipe your tears. That it's because of love I want you to love me equally in return."

   Avel's lip quivers.

   "One day," she whispers on, "I want you to learn what 'love' really means. Why it makes people do what they do. Why people constantly desire it, fight over it, die from it. How it can break people to tiny pieces and fix them all the same. How it can cause the greatest joy as well as the greatest sorrow and everything in between. I want you to learn it all, Avelious, so that when you rule over Straeh—when you finally find a girl you honestly, truly love—you'll be able to give your entirety for their sake. You'll be able to be heartless to them because you love them, as well as the most pure so that even if they were to gut out your insides, you would die the happiest knowing you posses their entire heart. Don't you think that's utterly, truly romantic?"

   She stops to sigh, marvelling the idea.

   "Ah, love is amazing. Unlike your father, you'll learn one day. I'll make sure of it, by searing every last bit of it into your frail, innocent mind and body... Avelious, say 'yes, Mother.'"

   The look of insanity is back in her eyes. "Y-yes, Mother."

   She beams all at once. "That's my son." She pats his head. "I'll be back tomorrow so get some rest. We have a long road ahead of us so you'll need to heal and keep your health in top shape from now on."

   "Yes, Mother," he mumbles.

   With one last look, she picks herself up and disappears, leaving Avel trembling whilst envisioning the murky future ahead of him.

♥♦♣♠

~10 years ago~

"Father! Teach me, teach me!"

   "You wish to learn, huh? Are you sure you have what it takes?"

   "I have everything I need all right here! My lab coat. My backpack filled with all the necessary equipment. Some potions and medicines. Oh, and, and—"

   A hand, ruffling his hair. A laugh so gentle and soft it caused him to grin all the same.

   "You'll become a fine quack one day. Someone who will bring comfort to people just by being by their side. You'll save so many lives, Avelious. I know it."

   When was the last time he gazed upon his father with such innocence? That he pursued his father's passion as his own, devoted solely to reach the mirage of the man he admired deeply? That he sulked when he failed in his studies, or was elated when his father praised him for his successes?

   When was it, that his entire world had begun to stain red?

   Surely, it was this moment.

   "Avelious."

   "But Mother, he is already—"

   Stabbing her nails into his shoulder blade, she almost rips his arm from its socket. "Avelious."

   The child's hollow eyes fixate on the already mutilated body of his father and his blood soaked clothes and dagger. "Not enough?" he asks.

   "Nowhere near, dear," Estelle coos in his ear. "Dismember that wretched man until every last drop of blood is squeezed from his body. You loved him a lot didn't you?"

   "Yes, very," Avel responds, his voice eerily calm. "Father and I used to have a lot of fun together. He was an amazing quack. The best in Straeh."

   "But you understand why I made you kill him, correct?"

   "Yes. It was because he was displaying kindness and warmth."

   "The King of Hearts should never be warm," Estelle scoffs. "So as my son—as the future king—you have to be ready to do what's right." Releasing his shoulder, she turns on her loud heels, tittering. "When I return I want him mangled enough to feed to Grimm."

   "Yes, Mother." Avel crouches over the corpse. Without a moment's hesitation, he swings his arm back then forward, slicing through his deceased father's abdomen and allowing for a fresh splatter of blood to hit his face. It trickles down his cheeks with every whack of the already gushing body. "Yes, Mother," he repeats.

.
.
.

   "That's my son! A genius!"

   "A genius!" he cheered with his fists raised as dramatically.

.
.
.

   "Father, you're eating the sweets the head steward forbade!"

   "What he doesn't know won't kill him."

   "It's forbidden because it's bad for your health."

   "There's no need for a child to worry about an adult's health. Now, eat up. As of this moment, you're my accomplice. If we get chewed out, it'll be together."

   "Father...!"

.
.
.

   "Your mother sent you here, didn't she?"

   Avel nearly jumped from his skin, clenching the dagger tighter behind him.

   Gazing out into the moonlight pouring out of the cell window, his father's smile stretched as broadly as he remembered.

   "She had me dethroned and replaced with the man she secretly bore another child to; tossed in here... and now she's sending our own son to put an end to me. Is this my retribution for being a quack? If so, I'd gladly pass now than live in a kingdom I can no longer recognize."

   His words always tugged at Avel's chest, brought out icky emotions he'd forsaken long ago.

   "What's wrong?" Aren prodded, sorrow tinging his gentle grin. "You're trembling."

   "Why are you so calm?"

   "Hmm?"

   "I'm here to kill you! I'm betraying you! You didn't know, right? What Mother put me through all these years. The torture. The people she's had me kill. You couldn't have known. That while you trained me to save people, I used those techniques to kill, and kill, and kill! You didn't know, so why are you so calm now—"

   "Avel, it's clear now, isn't it?

   His eyes bulge.

   "I'm not the man you thought I was. I knew. I knew from the beginning, but I ignored it. Because my work was more important to me than you, your mother, and the entire kingdom. Duty, obligation, affection... I never cared for any of it from the start. I simply liked helping people. That's why I played along, feigned ignorance, so I could continue to work for as long as I could. You and your mother did the same, correct? While we played the part of a happy family in public, beneath the surface, we seeped further and further into our respective madness. You agree with her ideologies—that's why you're here now, isn't it?"

   Avel's mouth moved, wordlessly.

   "Kill me, Avel." He said it without a sliver of hesitation. "Kill this horrible father of yours and become the King of Hearts you and her envision."

   His grip on the knife faltered. But, oddly enough, no emotions surfaced. Disbelief, sorrow, pain—they'd been brainwashed out of him a long time ago. He felt nothing gazing upon the man he once aspired to work alongside.

   "Goodbye, Father."

   Maybe because Aren had spotted the change that'd manifested in his son—the Queen's insanity beginning to gain hold of him—he put forth a rueful beam. "Goodbye, Avel."

.
.
.

   "You'll become a fine quack one day. Someone who will bring comfort to people just by being by their side. You'll save so many lives, Avelious. I know it."

   From the blindsight of his mother, a sole tear falls from Avel's eyelid alongside the influx of memories—the last thread tethering him to his sanity. "Yes... Mother."

♥♦♣♠

~5 years ago~

   "No mercy. No fear. No kindness. That's the way I've raised you, Avelious. To be a Heart is more than a simple title."

   "Mother, I've caught the criminals. What do I do with them?"

   "Torture them for me," she responds as she drinks her wine.

   "N-n-no, please—"

   Red.

   "Hahaha. He's gushing like a waterfall. Hey, hey, don't give me your blood that easily. Death is the easy way out of pain. Live longer so the both of us can have more fun."

   Red.

   "Hide your madness, my son. It's much more fun watching them writhe from the unknown. Dupe them, lure them in. Give them hope before crushing them like the worms they are."

   Red.

   "Another patient died. If they're to die anyway, killing them from the get-go is much more enjoyable."

   Red.

   "It's the prince! Ah, I want to feel his love as I die a pitiful death!"

   "Kill me!"

   "No, me! Love me 'til my last breath!"

   Red. Red. Red.

♥♦♣♠

~2 years ago~

   "Is this what you want?" Valentina, blunt as always, poses the question one cold, winter morning.

   Avel hums as he prods Zaire's scales. "What do you mean?

   "Mother's joined forces with the Jack of Spades. Even made that deal with the Harlequins to help him spread that disease to the citizens." She folds her arms. "At this rate, she really will take over Annadia."

   "Whatever Mother decrees, goes, Val. Even if you grew up the majority of your life outside these palace walls, you should've learned that well from the moment your father became king, and you, princess. What I 'want' doesn't matter. It never has."

   "How admirable," she snorts, wryly. "You may not remember it, but back when the world didn't know of my existence, I visited the palace. Ran into a boy with the biggest grin and purest eyes as he fondly studied medicine under instruction of his dear father. Mentioned something about wanting to bring comfort into the lives of those he's saved."

   All nonchalance disappears from Avel's face as he ganders her way. That day—she was there?

   Valentina smirks at his reaction. "Even if you've forgotten, even if everyone in Straeh forgets, I'll never discard the memory of the Avelious from back then. Tell me—has he forgotten that side of himself?"

   Avel simply breaks out into a broad smile, long accustomed to her taunting. "It never existed, Val. I've always been Mother's tool, from the moment I was born. Tools don't have memories to discard or salvage. They don't have wills of their own. So, no. I don't remember."

   "Poor thing. If you did, I'd think life would be a lot more interesting for us. Not that I have the right to talk. I too haven't a side like that since I came into this world."

   "Val."

   "I know. Let's focus on the present. Stain this kingdom into the beautiful red Mother desires—where madness and insanity can coexist within our respective affection. To attain that, first thing's first. Our daily corpse quota. Mother desires fifty heads today, correct?"

   "Let's make it a hundred." Upon Avel's declaration, the half-siblings share a madness-filled beam. "I'd like to experiment with my medicine again."

   "You crazy quack."

   "Why, thank you, you twisted witch."

   To be the perfect King, he'll do anything.

   Slaughter his family—dye his entire kingdom in blood—for so it means Straeh will remain the invincible nation that it is.

   For such is the desire of the eternal Queen of Hearts.