Hello!

I have decided to write a new story!

This time a Seventeen one, because I already have three NCT ones!

Please enjoy!

Vote and Comment!

AKD

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Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle, deep in the heart of an endless forest.

The Prince was beautiful-- tall and strong with shining amber hair, chocolate brown eyes that glowed when he laughed, and perfectly smooth skin nearly covered with flowers and blooms because the Prince had had many happy moments in his twenty-three years.

But alas, despite his beauty, despite the blooms on his skin, his heart was cold and his smile cruel, his words like barbs when he spoke.

Some of the townspeople blamed the late King, rest his soul, for turning the Prince so bitter.

After the lovely Queen had passed away shortly after the Prince's seventh birthday, there had been no one to act as a buffer between the cruel King and the innocent boy, and the Prince had suffered for it.

The King lived a life of drinking and partying, using and discarding any beautiful person that caught his eye, man or woman, and the Prince grew up with the same values.

What had once been a teasing sense of humor turned sarcastic and cutting. Instead of laughing readily at almost anything, the Prince began only laughing at someone else's misfortune and eventually, the years turned the darling little boy into a cynical young man.

Others blamed the war that had nearly destroyed their kingdom years before.

The Prince had ridden off ahead of their troops as a boy barely of age and had come home a hardened man who had seen too much war.

The soldiers told quiet stories of the Prince's surprising talent of fighting with the twin blades known as katanas, how he could decimate an entire platoon just by himself.

Spoke even quieter of his many romantic entanglements with the best looking soldiers, of nights spent listening to him find his pleasure, only to see him break the unlucky soldier's heart soon after.

And then, just the barest whispers of the way the Prince would laugh as he tore through their enemies, blades flying, taunting and teasing non-stop as he killed mercilessly. The way he talked about slaying soldiers as if it was a game, drunk and giggling about it over the fire.

But despite their negative feelings and misgivings, all the townspeople waited eagerly for their invitation to the Prince's 24th Birthday Party, for tonight he was to choose a partner to share the throne.

The most handsome men and the most beautiful women made themselves up in their finery, each trying to outshine the other.

Unlike most of the other kingdoms, having two Kings, or even two Queens was not an issue here. Several of the previous rulers had been adopted into the family because the ruling partners could not have a child naturally. Others had been carried by surrogates and raised as royalty, the idea of "pure" royal blood an outdated concept they refused to engage in.

After all, families were about love, and not about bloodlines, so the Prince could choose whoever he wanted.

Needless to say, the kingdom was almost in an uproar, each eligible person trying to figure out what they could do to catch the Prince's eye.

As always, the castle was decorated in astonishing, jaw-dropping colors. Flowers were imported from all over the world and their petals strewn across the tables and floors.

Entertainers from the East wowed the guests with magic, and musicians from all the grandest symphonies played in every corner of the ballroom.

And in the center of it all, the Prince sat upon his throne, a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face as all the most beautiful people paraded themselves in front of him, each dress more intricate than the last, each suit a richer shade of varying colors, each glance more flirtatious, each smile more promising.

He was still so charming, even after going away to war, even after becoming so bitter. When he wanted to pay a compliment, his words left the recipient blushing, fanning themselves. Older women who disapproved of his ways were swayed to his side by mischievous smiles and flirty winks.

His eyes were like a magnet, and once he had you in his sights, you were already lost, and he knew it.

His beauty was like a weapon, and he wielded it effortlessly.

This night, he was already drunk on wine, on the air of festivity, on his own sense of ego. His entourage tittered and giggled at everything he said, his hazel eyes looked electric against the solid black of his suit, and he had already chosen three or four guests to spend his night with.

And the party was just beginning.

Oh, little did he know.

It was an odd night, this one. A cold wind blew down from the mountains, bringing with it a wild storm. Inside the brightly lit castle, no one even noticed, too caught up in their revelry, and only the doorman heard the timid knocks upon the grand door.

When the old beggar woman visited the castle that cold winter night, desperate for shelter, the arrogant Prince laughed in her face, then scolded her for being so rude as to interrupt his party.

Clapping his hands for his guards, waving her away, he turned instead to whichever nameless, forgettable girl was in front of him at the moment and asked her to dance.

Furious that he could be so cruel to someone in need, the old woman stood to her feet, revealing her true form, one of a powerful enchantress.

With a flick of her wrist, the musicians and entertainers were gone, the hall falling into such sudden, awful silence that the Prince could only stare in astonishment.

Another wave of her hand and all occupants of the castle were cast into the Grey Void, forced to hover between life and death, their souls imprisoned, their bodies were thrown far away, and immediately only she and the Prince were left in the grand ballroom.

"Have mercy," He whispered, eyes widened in fear. "If I had known who you were--"

The enchantress didn't answer him, calling on her magic instead and casting a spell over him, ripping the flowers right from his skin, the Prince crying out in shock and anger.

His clothing tore as the blooms were physically lifted from him, twirling in the air before evaporating into nothingness.

"A man such as you does not deserve flowers." She decreed. "You have had many beautiful moments in your life, been surrounded by blessings, and still only thorns reside in your heart. And now, your cruelty will be no longer be hidden, it will be printed on your skin for the world to see."

The Prince screamed in terror then, as blackthorns, long and jagged, appeared first on his feet, then traveled up his legs to his waist.

"You will live a painful life, as the thorns take over your body. Every inch they grow will sting as a knife." She announced in a terrible voice. "And every day you will remember how much your cold heart has cost you. Your people will forget your name, and children shall fear the story of the Prince of Thorns."

"Please." The Prince fell to his knees, as the black thorns inched up and over him, tears falling from his eyes as his body lit up with the pain.

"Please, have mercy. Surely I can do something to reverse this, please, another chance. Anything. I am still young, surely I have not lived so terribly that I should be cursed for the rest of my life."

The enchantress thought for a long moment.

"The most beautiful roses bloom surrounded by thorns." She said finally. "Find your rose before the thorns overtake you, and I shall lift the curse and return your life to you."

"What does that mean?" The Prince cried, slamming his first into the ground. "Tell me what that means!"

But the enchantress was already gone, the empty air shimmering in her absence, and the Prince was completely alone in his suddenly empty castle.

There were no more parties, no more banquets, no more beautiful people dancing.

The woods were cast into a never-ending winter, the castle hidden from view.

The memory of the Prince was wiped from the people's minds, replaced with the tale of the Prince of Thorns, a man so soulless that not a single flower would bloom on his skin.

It was a tale to warn children away from the woods, a tale to keep them from misbehaving and as the years passed, no one could even remember if the story was true or not.

No one remembered his name.

No one missed him.

No one mourned the Prince.

He sat alone in his castle, in his rooms in his Tower, staring out the windows at the never-ending winter.

Voices swirled around him even though there was no one to talk to, and the Prince knew he was going mad.

And every day the thorns climbed a little higher, a little closer to his heart, and the Prince put his head in his hands, knowing he was doomed.

Because who would ever love a man covered in thorns, one who was more of a beast than a Prince?

Not Edited

Thursday, October 3, 2019

Song recommendation:

"Can't Catch Me" by Avicii