Here it is everyone, the Prologue to Scarlet Prince. I am aware that it is very short, but it didn't need to be any longer than this. I will be posting the next chapter next Sunday.

However, I have also been working on filling out some parts of Crimson King, where I missed details or events, or didn't get to write some parts the way I wanted to - due to the chaos of last year haha
One of these 'extra chapters' so to speak, I will be putting into CK soon - it is mostly Darius and Iris orientated, so I'm sure you will not want to miss out! I will be fiddling around with these chapters later tonight, and hopefully will be posting this extra today as well.

I will let you know when on my profile <3
Happy reading! Let's look forward to 2023 together!
Love, Daisy xx

__________________________

THE MONARCHS

(Circe's Story)
A Pirate's Kiss
A Siren's Crown
A Dragon's Heart
-
(Iris's Story)
The Crimson King
The Scarlet Prince

________________________

T H E S C A R L E T P R I N C E

Prologue | The Boy Born from Madness

-

'I became insane,
with long intervals of
horrible sanity.'

- Edgar Allan Poe

-

"Father. I have come."

A beautiful boy stands tall amongst the unbridled debauchery of the court, like a single stroke of strong, black ink surrounded by chaotic script.

He remains unmoved, though the chaos lapping at his feet croons and beckons. His dark eyes are flat and unseeing. A circlet of silver thorns nestles amongst his ebony curls. He was contaminated long ago. They cannot stain him further.

The one whom the boy addresses is seated high above the writhing masses, and for a moment, it seems as though the boy's announcement goes unheard. And then, the hand that rests upon the bone white throne lifts, and the fingers tap once.

The immediate silence is suffocating.

"So," In the quiet, the single word jars. The man on the throne leans forward, but his features are intangible, as though shrouded in mist. The soft brush of fabric echoes through the hollow hall. The creatures that wait, poised below the throne, give an involuntary shiver. "What news do you bring?"

"Aramis Craten is dead." The boy delivers the news with a look of apathy. "So too, the Elven Queen."

For a moment, it seems as though the entire court holds its breath.

Abruptly, the figure upon the throne begins to laugh. "Is that so?" His tone is mocking, as if speaking to a child. "And what proof do you bring?"

As though he had been expecting the question, the boy reaches over his shoulder to pull a blade out of thin air. The sword rings as it is drawn, as though emerging from an invisible sheath. Without hesitation, the boy flings the sword towards the throne.

The figure rises, and a hand extends to catch the sword firmly by the hilt. Without hesitation, the man swings the blade and drives it deep into the throne upon which he was seated.

For a moment, nothing happens.

But then a colour begins to spread, seeping into the white flesh of the throne as though the sword were a coated paint brush dipped into pale water. The colour spreads, and veins that were once dry now pulse sickeningly with stolen life. The man throws back his head, his cruel laughter echoing delightedly throughout the hall.

"My Son," the man's piercing gaze falls upon the boy who remains unaffected, even as those behind him kneel in fear and adoration. "You have done well."

The laughter begins again, and this time the entire hall joins in his mirth. Quickly, the court dissolves back into decadent wickedness, and Eros reaches up to catch the sword that is returned to him. With a flourish of his hand, the blade vanishes once more, and Eros turns away. His deathly beautiful face remains impassive- despite those who clutch at his sleeves, spit on his shoes, beg him to stay, curse him to hell- as he leaves.

Behind him, the Unseelie King grins with a mouth full of fangs.

And the throne that he settles back into is the colour of fresh blood.

-