Ruel hummed happily as he walked towards the stone wall of his home, his expression carrying a hint of euphoria at the fun he'd just had; it had been the first time in all of his 10 years he'd felt so much elation, since he'd had so much incredible fun.
Doing what was expected of him was an annoyance that he despised—it was boring, and he abhorred it with a passion: smiling, laughing, being humble, being meek, being weak, crying about literally everything—he hated it with a fury that fit the demon boy perfectly—perhaps even a bit too perfectly.
Perhaps an explanation is in order for him to be understood; Ruel was a genius. Things that would take people years to accomplish were finished in mere minutes by him, things that were difficult to understand were understood by him, and impossible feats were possible, if not probable.
Therefore, in the face of being capable of anything, he was bored of everything, the tediousness of everyday life slowly driving him insane.
This was why he'd chosen to present himself to the family, purposefully sneaking into the Imperial Library numerous times to read in the restricted sections accessible to only those of royal blood, before allowing his "siblings" to catch sight of him, scurrying back to his isolated home with them on his trail, all to experience some break from the torturous tedium.
Now, by no means was he a masochist—in fact, he despised having to lay down on the ground while being beaten by his "siblings"; it made him feel weak, like he was submissive to someone weaker than him, but his sanity was stretched to the breaking point as he desperately yearned to relieve himself of his boredom, turning to physical violence and harm.
To be perfectly clear, he didn't really expect or desire conflict with his "siblings" initially.
Truthfully, he hadn't known what to expect when his "siblings" had started to visit him when he was five years of age; was he expectant, hopeful?
Did he yearn for happiness, for joy, for something to complete the hollowness that had long since taken ahold of him; the hollowness that followed him even now, nagging at him as if to say that something was missing?
Perhaps the something was truly a someone? He wasn't sure...
Did he want a connection of significant meaning, one that he could hold close to his heart to warm him on the long and bitter nights of frost?
Once again, Ruel wasn't sure; it had been so long ago since he felt like a child...
The beautiful, beat up boy stopped in front of the ivy ridden stonewall that surrounded his home; it was a small place, with a modest castle of a foreign style than the rest of the palace, and a lovely garden full of plants that pleased him to look at.
The problem was, there was almost no food for him, even as a infant.
He hopped over the 10 foot stone wall, a feat easy for his enhanced physical abilities and for the practice of doing so many times in the past; there was no food, so he learnt to hunt. He continued to ponder on the enigma of his mother, once again organizing the tidbits of thought and information he'd received from the borderline neglectful and indifferent maids that "cared" for him.
From his understanding, the style of the architecture was implemented for the sake of his mother, a woman whom the emperor seemed to have loved dearly to go to such an extent for a mere slave. Naturally, she was rumored to be very beautiful, with deep purple eyes, jade white skin, and dark lavender hair. Apparently, even among demon kind she was considered to be an unparalleled beauty, one who reflected the radiance of the autumn night...
Ruel wouldn't know; she died birthing him.
Outside of the compound was a forest of white aspen trees, the silver bark and the silvery green leaves that fluttered with the breeze lovely and worthy of admiration from the boy, his soft, glassy diamond hair quivering in the breeze in tandem with the leaves as his pretty face grew calm, his purple and gold eyes emptying before closing as he let the serenity of the forest cool his excitement.
If his mother was of autumn, then perhaps he was of winter; the thought came to him randomly, another one of the countless thoughts that flickered through the lonely child's mind, and yet it had a rather stellar impact on him momentarily.
'Of winter... it seems I've become rather sentimental. Enough of this, I must look for further excitement...'
The boy who could be mistaken for a fairy continued on his quest for more entertainment, a blank poker face on his features, leaving behind two, bleeding personages in the place he called home; truthfully he didn't care much for them—the maids would take care of them, they always did.
—————
Andrew was exhausted.
The sun of noon beat down upon his fully armored form incessantly, as he stifled a yawn, his blue eyes showcasing dark rings of sleep akin to a raccoons in prominence; he'd been woken up at three in the morning, assuming his post of guarding the main gate of the castle's out wall in the wee hours when the cold bit and shivers were abundant.
Now it was hot, and he felt like a potato in an oven as he all but cooked in his full metal armor.
The other guard, a new lad named Leto, wasn't much better; due to being overweight, he looked like a hog over a spit in his armor—sweat and smelled like one too. It was only natural, since he was the disgraced youngest son of a baron, that he would've had more to eat since his youth, with a lack of clear exercise.
It didn't help the smell of a truly unfortunate body odor, one that made Andrew visibly cringe just from being near. He sighed—all he wanted was to get off his shift as quickly as possible, take a shower, have a cup of mead and a platter of decent food, and retire to his bed early.
But nonetheless, he was vigilant—even though one had to be insane to even deign to attack the Raphaelis Empire, let alone the main castle of the empire that had lasted for a thousand years. And even all that was after taking into account the reigning emperor's power, the one who was considered to be the strongest within the last 300 years, Leon Crusies Delorian la Raphaelis the Ⅲ.
He stifled yet another yawn, breaking from his thoughts as he turned to check the time on the castle clocktower, counting the minutes to his shifts end before he choked.
"W-What?!"
Andrews sudden exclamation disturbed Leto who had begun to doze off, prompting him to choke with him. Gasping sounds began to ensue from the pair, both of their eyes bogged open wide at the sight before them; you'd think something was wrong with either the air or their lungs by the way they went on sputtering.
Well you couldn't really blame; after all, it's not exactly everyday you see a child so pretty they look like a girl jump off a 25 story clock tower nonchalantly, their long and wild diamond glass hair—the sign of the Raphaelis Imperial Family—sparkling in the wind on their way down.
Ruel smiled as he fell, his expression entirely relaxed; this was actually pretty fun.