Ash sat quietly under the twisted, ashen tree in the garden, her fingers absently running through the soft petals of a blood-red flower. It had become a place of calm for her, the only sanctuary from the storm inside her heart. Here, in the sprawling, eerily beautiful garden of Hell, she could find some semblance of peace. But today, peace felt fleeting.

Asmodeus sat beside her, his presence as constant as the shifting shadows in the garden. Yet, something was different. There was an unfamiliar tension in the air, a heaviness in the silence between them. He had been distant lately, his usual confident and charismatic self buried under something deeper. Ash could sense it—he was carrying something heavy, something unspoken.

She had always known there was more to the prince than the charming figure he portrayed. He was kind, generous, and surprisingly patient with her. But beneath his calm and collected exterior, there was something dark, something that whispered to her that he wasn’t entirely the person he appeared to be.

The moment stretched, the sun low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of violet and crimson. The wind picked up slightly, swirling around them, but neither of them spoke. Ash’s heart raced as the silence seemed to stretch longer than usual.

“Is everything all right?” Ash asked finally, her voice soft, tentative.

Asmodeus didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looked at her, his deep, dark eyes scanning her face as though searching for something. She met his gaze steadily, feeling the weight of his stare in a way she hadn’t before. There was something vulnerable in him now, something raw that she had never seen.

“I’m just… thinking,” he replied finally, his voice low, tinged with something that sounded like regret.

Ash frowned slightly, sensing there was more to his words than he was letting on. She had come to know him well enough to see through the layers he hid behind. The prince of Hell, with all his power and charisma, was not impervious to pain.

“I don’t think it’s just thinking,” she said softly, her voice gentle. “You’ve been distant for days. If something is wrong, you can tell me.”

For a moment, Asmodeus was silent again, his lips pressed together in a tight line. The weight of his internal struggle seemed to hang in the air between them. Ash's heart ached as she watched him, knowing there was more to the man who had become so important to her than he was willing to share.

“I never wanted you to know this side of me,” Asmodeus finally said, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. He looked away from her, his gaze turning distant. “But I think… I think you deserve to know.”

Ash’s breath caught in her throat as she braced herself for what was to come. She didn’t know what had happened to the prince to make him this way, but she knew it was something significant, something that had shaped him into the person he was today.

“The truth is,” he began, his voice trembling slightly, “I’m not just the prince of Hell. I was once… someone else. I was a different person, long before my father claimed me.”

Ash sat up straighter, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quiet but insistent.

Asmodeus sighed, his eyes darkening as memories long buried resurfaced. “I wasn’t always the prince. My real name isn’t even Asmodeus. That’s the name my father gave me after… after he took me from my family.”

Ash’s heart skipped a beat. She had heard whispers of his past, of his mysterious origin, but this was the first time he had openly spoken of it. “What happened?” she asked, her voice gentle but filled with concern.

He hesitated, taking a long breath. “I was born in a place far away from here, a realm of peace and balance. It was a small kingdom, a peaceful place, far from the chaos of Hell. I was the son of a king, a prince by birth, but… my family was not as strong as they seemed.”

He paused, as if weighing whether or not to continue. “My father, the one who rules Hell now, was not always the king here. He was once an outcast, a broken soul, like many others. But he found his way to power, through manipulation and deceit. When he found me, he took me from my family—he killed my parents and destroyed my home, all for the sake of power. He wanted me to become what I am now. He wanted me to become his heir, to claim the throne of Hell as his own.”

Ash’s heart shattered for him. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had gone through, what he had lost. Asmodeus’s pain was palpable, the darkness of his past creeping into the present.

“I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be,” Asmodeus continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I rebelled. I fought against everything he wanted me to become, but he made sure that no one could ever help me. He isolated me. I was forced to become a weapon for his cause. For years, I fought in wars I never believed in, all for a throne I never wanted.”

Ash reached out instinctively, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She could feel the tension in his body, the turmoil that never seemed to leave him. He was a prince, yes, but not of his own choosing. He had been forced into a role he never wanted.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I had no idea.”

Asmodeus smiled faintly, though there was little warmth in it. “You wouldn’t have known. I’ve buried it all deep, hidden behind this mask I wear. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. Not with you.”

Ash’s heart ached as she looked at him, the man who had once been a prince in a far-off realm, a man who had been molded into the prince of Hell by forces beyond his control. He was broken, yes, but there was still so much goodness in him—so much he kept hidden behind walls of armor and pride.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve gone through,” Ash said, her voice filled with sincerity. “You don’t deserve that.”

For a moment, Asmodeus was silent. He seemed to be processing her words, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through the walls he had so carefully built around himself. Finally, he looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Ash didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know if her words could ever fix the pain he had carried with him for so long, but in that moment, she knew that she was no longer just a princess hiding from her responsibilities. She was someone who could understand the prince, someone who could help him heal, just as he had helped her heal in her own way.

Asmodeus’s past was full of darkness and pain, but it was a past that was now intertwined with hers. And somehow, through the turmoil, Ash knew that they could help each other find their way to the light.