Ruel was bored.
Sure, you wouldn't think so. I mean, usually people would be screaming or even sobbing if they were being beat into a bloody pulp without the slightest hint of mercy—but no. Ruel was merely bored at the already common "interaction" that he had went through since childhood.
Oh.
Was that why his "step-mother" was screaming bloody murder while his "step-brother" was kicking him in the stomach over and over again? Oh right, she's saying something—he had been pondering over how the effects of increased gravity on someone's head would negatively effect them.
"You monstrous child—to think that even now, you bear no emotion on your disgusting face. What a disreputable dog; it would be a blessing for all of us if you were to finally be put down as you deserve!"
So, he didn't show much emotion, so what; he still felt plenty—of boredom that is. C'mon, at least bring a sword or something to spice things up—it's annoying having to deal with such irrelevant and tiresome nuisances like measly bruises.
Besides, the woman was clearly mad; he was beautiful and he knew it.
For example, have they seen his skin? They're ruining such a smooth, lovely, pale jade color with their incessant tantrums.
'I wonder,' he thought calmly, his expression void of all emotion, 'what would happen if I mar this imbeciles skin? Would that be fun? Would I be relieved of all this boredom? Perhaps I should give it a go—heck, if this is boring, perhaps the consequences will be more entertaining to deal with...'
It was then a glimmer of light lit within his beautiful amethyst and gold eyes, the color sparkling magnificently before he reached out, his small hands capturing his "brothers" foot before he casually twisted it in its socket, destroying the bones and ligaments surrounding it with an audible crunch.
The agonized scream of his brother, Abel, brought a smile to Ruel's face.
'Oh, this is fun.'
The women who dared to call herself stepmother shrieked at the sight of her son crumpling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, and the small smile on the face of the monstrous yet beautiful child that had caused her sons fall. The beautiful child slowly stood up without issue or concern for his wounds, his amethyst and gold eyes glinting with a peculiar light: it was humor, happiness.
'My Heavens,' she realized with mounting horror as the child approached her own again before stepping on the already broken ankle of her son, eliciting yet another a screech of pain from her son, 'is he... is he enjoying this!? Oh... my... he truly is a demon child!'
"S-Stop!" she cried, rushing to push off the demon child from her Abel desperately, her pretty face screwed with fear, "Get off of him! I command you creature, release him! Let him go this instant you insufferable little mistake—"
"Shut up, you sow."
A shiver of fear crested her brow, curling into her heart and whispering death within her ear when she heard Ruel's voice. It was soft, yet harsh, definitive, a cruel edge lacing it like a sword of judgement, come to behead her with the grace of an emperor; it was a royals voice, a voice in which a hated child of infidelity should not harbor.
She looked down to the see the beautiful boys expression, his face apathetic and calm, save for the defiant and disgusted gleam in his deep purple eyes, the gold inlaid of them glimmering beautifully in spite of the origin of such disreputable colors.
His hair was like diamond glass, pearlescent and nigh-transparent; that hair was the only reason he could still be considered a member of the royal family, despite the origins of his other colorations and looks.
And she hated him, this little boy whom the emperor couldn't bear to kill nor bear to love—his resemblance to his whore of a mother too great for him to dispose of, the result of her death being too powerful for him to love.
An unwanted, unrelenting existence that lived at the precipice of death and life—that was all Ruel was, and was all he could possibly be in the eyes of his so called family.
So the concubine felt correct in exclaiming, "The insolence of you! How dare you refer to me as a sow, you hideous monster! Your father would have you hanged for such an offense—"
"Your ugly pig eyes can't see well, can they? Not only that, but to be so disillusioned—are you certain you're sane? The court must've driven you mad if you believe that this child without the proper features and with a now debilitating injury could possibly still be in line for succession of the throne, right? I'm so called 'illegitimate', and yet this child is not?"
A cruel smile overcame Ruel's beautiful face, his eyes disdainful as he coolly reinforced his statement in the face of the woman's pale face, "You call my mother a mere whore, and I the son of such, but are you not the same? Concubines are but formal prostitutes, no? So does that not mean that the difference between my mother and you is simply a title? After all, all you're here for is to be a b*tch to the b*st*rd dog of an emperor, isn't that right, you whore? Or should I say, Concubine Charlette?"
The words of the 10 year old boy struck a cord of inferiority that Charlette had hidden in her heart, causing her to flinch at her memories of being sold off to the emperor to warm his bed, like a slave, a tool; the truth was, there was hardly a difference between she and that monster's mother—a truth she had desperately attempted to look away from. And yet, here he was, a boy barely 10 years of age, speaking of such cruelty towards her, reminding her of what she really was.
And she hated it.
She flushed red, her black eyes wide and her fiery red hair dancing as she raised her fair hand to smack the child that dared to remind her of the darkness she kept—but it was all for naught, for she had forgotten one, indisputable fact: the origin of the boys mother, and who his father was.
His father was the strongest emperor in all of human existence; it was only natural his child would get his strength. But worse was his slave mother.
His mother was a demon.
It was only natural that a neglected and abused child like Ruel would get her savagery.
As her hand fell to his face, Ruel's own shot forth, grabbing her wrist effortlessly before shattering it and her arm completely, a smile gracing his face when he heard her earth shattering shriek of pain. His smile widened even more, demonic quality gracing his pretty face, his pale as white jade skin flushed a charming rose as his blood raced throughout his body, invigorating him entirely.
'This is so much fun...'