I can feel my mortal soul slowly leave my body, blood had slowly covered the floor around me. So it finally came, despite my efforts.

“Goodbye father.” Lucifer my son muttered as he withdrew the sword from my body letting red liquid flow faster as he left the room.

‘At least he had the honor to personally perform the deed, just like how the gods intended.’ I intoned as I crawled to my study table taking a special bottle of wine I kept close to me for the entire time.

It was made on the day I found that kid.

“You will not escape Lythia’s punishment. A child of light will strike you down.” the pope, an idiotic piece of meat declared before he was executed.

As much of a fanatic the man was, his proclamations had mostly held true for a long time. It is why at the exact moment I found myself free from the chains of my newfound leadership, I joined my men at the search ensuring that everyone knew the gravity of the task.

I found him alone, digging the graves for his deceased mother. A normal man would take the opportunity to strike him down.

I chose a different route, one where I know the face of my demise and gain the chance to sway him at my side. I told my generals, advisors and everyone that I felt should know.

It was a lie. I had attempted to defy various prophecies during the war, all of them ended in failure and a lesson that working around it was a better idea.

So I turned him into my heir, gave him the lessons and the values needed to reach my level.

When thoughts of taking over entered his mind, I nourished it. I ignored his gathering of allies, people who will aid him in the future.

And when the time was ripe, gave him the opportunity he needed.

I was struck down by the Child of Light, but not as a hero like the Lythia intended.

“All hail the new king.” I raised my bottle as a final spit to the goddess, drinking the wine as I let it be my final sensation.

"You did what?" Zaif screamed at the stone faced man in front of him.

The man in question was rocking back and forth a newborn baby with care. "Silent, the baby is sleeping. Also why are you this anxious, you knew this would happen a long time ago, brother."

"I didn't think you would adopt it. Brother, this little boy is the champion of righteousness, his job is to kill you, the infamous Blood stone Emperor." Zaif was getting more and more worked up because of his older brother's antics.

The man gave the baby to a maid waiting nearby. "Take care of the prince, if I hear him cry I will flay you..." The maid's hand trembled as she took the young prince away.

"Now, you are right, Zaif, this baby is supposed to kill me finally after a thousand years. But do you remember the prophecy?"

"Of course I do, the emperor of blood will cast his shadow on the lands for a thousand years, until a hope is born, the child shall birth dragons out of his blood, basilisks out of his flesh. The chosen cannot live in the presence of the emperor, thus the one coated with blood shall perish."

"Does the prophecy mention anything about the boy being a champion of righteousness or good? No, it doesn't, this is a detail some people have added so they could use him against me and destroy my empire. The kid is born evil, dragons and basilisks, they are not good creatures in nature but evil and the kid is supposed to summon them to this world."

"But that doesn't explain why you took him in instead of killing him?"

"I can't kill him, in better terms it is impossible to kill him, he is protected by fate. So, why not take him under me and teach him everything I know, he will take me out in the end but I will be the one who won in the end and my empire shall last for another thousand years." The emperor laughed as he looked at the city under his palace.

"How would he kill you? We are immortal, brother...."

"That we are, brother, but fate is fair, so the moment the kid was born I was stripped of my immortality, you are now the only immortal in this bleak and boring world. I want you to help my son as much as you can, Zaif."

"Do not worry, I shall protect him with everything I got. But what happened to his parents as you are now calling him your son?"

"I killed them....."

"Reforms you say? What kind of reform are we talking about son?"

The Dread King Solastrion stood serious besides the piles of parchment brought to him by his beloved son, Pastrial.

"Father, when you unified the 12 kingdoms under your banner, things had to be done to maintain the peace. Many warlords we're eager to raise armies and challenge your right to the throne, but this time has passed. For two generations, citizens of the Empire lived in peace. And they now yearn for freedom more than ever."

The prince took a few of the parchment and opened them in front of his father.

" This law, for example, would allow the construction and maintenance of orphanages and publich schools all around the Empire. This other one would allow for greater access to the justice system for all. Judges will also have to answer to the law instead of their whims. And this last one would force government officials to divulge their earnings in an effort to fight corruption."

The Dread King sat down and pondered about his son's initiative.

" And you really think this will help? I really don't see how!"

"Father, you are 63 years old. You've done a lot for the Empire and made it a force to be reckoned with. But divisions are stronger than ever. Rebels have no trouble recruiting and I'm afraid they are bolstered by the upcoming succession. I hope from the bottom of my heart you still have decades before you, but one day, I'll be the Emperor. And I still want an Empire when that time comes. If we can show our subjects we are agents of change, show them I can push the Empire to even greater heights, the rebellion will die out. You'll cement your legacy and songs about the glorious Dread Kings will be written for centuries."

The Dread King couldn't help but smile. He adopted his son when he was a baby, after having brutally killed his parents. A prophecy foretold the child would be the one the end his evil reign. He always thought fate wanted him to die by his hands, but it appears the Weavers had other plans. His evil reign will end, and be replaced by the good King Pastrial after a peaceful succession.

I stand on the balcony, looking out over my kingdom. My time is coming; my son, fifteen years old now, destined to overthrow me, has been gaining the trust of the people. A rebellion is on the horizon, as everyone demands he takes the throne. Of course I'm not happy with this, but he hasn't once disobeyed me; if I tell him to put a servant in their place, he will use compassion and understanding to get them to do their jobs, but if I told him to punish them, he would, apologising for the way things are.

I curl up my fingers. The one thing I don't understand is... how? Ever since my son started making decisions for the kingdom and having a say in what happens to people, there's been LESS crime and disloyalty. This doesn't make sense...

I sigh. I close my eyes and think back to when I first took my son in. Sometimes, prophecies are fake or inaccurate, but I couldn't take my chances. My advisor has always had a gift, and he's rarely ever wrong. He told me that an abandoned baby would grow up and be my undoing. I could have just killed the kid... somehow, I knew it was him... but I know what would have happened. People would NOT have kept quiet. Instead, I raised the boy as my own, hoping I could somehow get him to follow my example...

But no. All these years later, he doesn't even TRY my methods, calling them 'cruel'. It doesn't matter; my grip is slipping, it's only a matter of time. I nod to myself, my decision made. I head to the throne room. What once was a place of fear and respect was slowly becoming a place where even my own guards don't see me as a leader. I walk up to the throne, but I don't sit down. I call for my son. "Shawn. Come here."

My son walks into the room. Usually, he bows to me. This time, he doesn't. I narrow my eyes; this is yet another sign that what I'm about to do is a necessity. "Shawn... why do you insist on being compassionate and kind to those beneath you? To those who are criminals or servants?"

"Because I hate seeing the fear in people's eyes, father" Shawn responds. "They hate you. I can't, but I don't respect you anymore. I'm not afraid to tell you anymore, father, but I don't think you are fit to rule this land. Punish me for it if you want; you'll regret it."

I take two steps forward. He doesn't flinch. "I know" I say. "If I did ANYTHING to you, the people would riot. Son... I never told you before, but the day you were born, my reign was destined to end. I still somehow hoped that if I raised you as my own, you'd follow my example. I was wrong. And now... here I stand, my position fragile. I don't have much choice... the throne is yours."

Shawn's eyes widen in surprise. I step to the side, gesturing him to take my place. He hesitates a moment, before walking over and taking his seat. I feel disgusted, but just a little bit proud. I kneel to my own son. "Your majesty."

He looks at me. "Seems like you at least know humility. So... what to do with you..."

I gulp. "Please... I know you well enough... you wouldn't hurt me... don't hurt me..."

Shawn chuckles. "Never thought I'd see you begging like this, Mason. Truth be told, I always thought death wasn't an unsuitable punishment for you... but you're right, I don't WANT to hurt you. Guards. Take him to the deepest part of the dungeon."

I shake with relief as I'm forced to my feet. I'm escorted to a dark, damp cell. The iron door shuts behind me, and I look at the guards. "Be thankful you were spared" one of them states. "Maybe one day, you can earn your freedom... after, King Shawn isn't like you." The guards leave, and I just sit on my cold, hard bed. One question goes through my head: where did I go wrong as a ruler?

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! More stories here!

Queen Larissa humms thoughtfully and sips her wine, considering each line of the prophecy she had received earlier that day. She wanted to believe it false, that her reign would end at the hand of the baby she had been shown, but her sister’s prophecies had always come true.

“Are you alright my love?” her husband, Cedric asks.

“Do you think I’m cruel?” Larissa replies, gesturing to one of her slaves to pour her more wine.

The boy is shaking and wine splashes out of the goblet. Larissa glares at the boy and grabs his wrist.

“Useless child,” she snaps, “guards take him to the dungeon. He’ll be hung tomorrow at noon.”

The guards obey and drag the young slave away. The other slaves shrink back, trying to hide from the Queen’s wrath. Larissa takes another large sip from her goblet.

“You’re not cruel to me,” Cedric speaks and Larissa glances at her husband, having forgotten she had asked him that question. He fiddles slightly with the chains that wrap around his wrist.

“So you do believe that I’m cruel,” Larissa comments and Cedric nods slightly.

“Larissa stop asking ridiculous questions. You’re rule has been plagued by blood and suffering of course you’re cruel. You just sentenced a boy to death for spilling some wine, I can only imagine what you’ll try to do to escape your fate,” her sister, Arella says from the other end of the table.

“Aren’t you the one who is always telling me that once a prophecy is willed it’s fate is unavoidable?” Larissa mutters.

“Yes, but you don’t usually listen to me, why should I expect this time to be different.”

“Because I’ve decided I’m going to raise this boy as my own. If I’m too be overthrown by this child then it will be on my own terms. I sent Captain Carter to retrieve the boy for me,” Larissa says.

“You’ve always tried to cheat your fate in whatever way possible,” Arella sighs and stands to leave.

There is a knock at the door and Captain Carter steps into the room, holding a sleeping baby. Larissa smiles and the Captain bows deeply.

“I found the child your Majesty. Would you like me to dispose of it?” He asks.

“No. The boy is my son now,” Larissa says and takes the baby from Captain Carter, uncaring about the blood stains on the thin blanket.

“Do you have a name for him my love?” Cedric asks.

“I was thinking Ezekiel,” Larissa replies and hands the baby off to Cedric, “find a wet nurse and make the announcement that my son has been born.”

“I look forward to the day your reign ends sister,” Arella says and storms out of the room.

The bang of the door wakes Ezekiel and his cries echo around the dining room. Cedric rocks him gently and Larissa smiles at her new son.

The Child of Destiny will be born under the light of the falling star. None shall be able to slay him, for Fate shall watch over his destiny and keep him whole, and when he grows up, he will overthrow the Golden King.

Vizier Haran pondered this baleful prophecy concerning the foretold end of his monarch's reign, as he watched the king's heir gallop across the field below on his purebred white destrier.

"You look thoughtful, Haran." the King Draymond said, idly. "What's on your mind?"

Haran cleared his throat. "Sire, it is just that...well, you know the ah...traitorous so-called prophecy concerning you?"

King Draymond chortled, waving his hand dismissively as he took a sip of wine from his golden goblet. "Come come, Haran. We have to execute anyone who repeats it in public, for appearance's sake, but you don't need to toe the party line in private. You know the prophecy is true as well as I do -- the pronouncements of the Silver Oracle have never been wrong."

Haran shuffled uncomfortably. "As you say, sire. But...your majesty, I cannot understand why, rather than exiling him somewhere, you chose to adopt the Child of Destiny. And naming him your heir, no less! Surely your majesty is inviting the fulfillment of the prophecy, by doing so?"

King Draymond smiled, slyly. "Am I? Tell me, Haran, do you know what happened to my father?"

Haran paused. "It is said he fell from the tower of your family's keep when--"

Draymond rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's what we said, but obviously I killed him. He was constantly ordering me around, I was sick of waiting to be able to make my own decisions, so I pushed him off the tower."

"Most...er...decisive of you, sire." Haran said, diplomatically. He knew for whom he worked, of course, but even he was surprised at the king's frank admission of his own ruthlessness.

The king laughed again. "Indeed! And that's the key. Up until that point, I'd just grudgingly done as I was told, letting my father dictate everything I did. It took me a long time to get tired of never getting what I wanted -- I was already a grown man, by most measures."

King Draymond raised a finger. "But that day, the day I shoved him off the battlement, the day I decided to take action, to take responsibility for my life...that's the day I really became a man. Do you see now, Haran?"

Haran paused, looking back down at the prince below. He could hardly see any paralel, there. As a parent, the king seemed like precisely the opposite of how he described his own father. He indulged the prince's every whim -- fine clothes, wine, rich food, women, the lad was denied nothing. That stallion he currently rode was the third expensive purebred added to the prince's stable this year alone!

The lad wasn't as profligate as some, perhaps, and was cruel to neither the women nor the horses he was supplied, but he was still so thoroughly indulged that he could hardly help but spend all his time on frivolity and carnal distractions.

Then Haran's eyes widened in realization. He turned to the king, his mouth agape, as he recognized the cunning monarch's genius.

"...and when he grows up, he will overthrow the Golden King." Draymond quoted, smugly. "Well, even if you can't kill him -- and alas, the prophecy says you can't -- there's still one way to ensure that the brat never grows up..."

King Draymond gestured to the prince below, idly trotting in circles on his new horse. "Just give him everything he wants!"

I hid the child under my robes, sheltering him from the rain. This act of compassion, uncharacteristic of the “brutal oppressor” most have come to see me as, was not lost on my guard detail, and I caught them sharing glances with each other. I did not care. Maybe I would have before, but even holding this babe spurred some emotion in me. If those child really was destined to end me, I wouldn’t try to change his fate by exposing him to cruel violence at such a young age.

As he grew, this emotion grew with him. He was, of course, trained in all things noble. Swordplay, literature, diplomacy, I spared nothing in his education. When he first bested our weapons master, I was proud, though I did not show it.

When he first read the works of our greatest poets aloud to my court, i was proud, and applauded him, though only briefly. I could see his smile, even though he tried to hide it.

When he returned from his first diplomatic mission, the first one to end in peace for our nation in a generation, I broke and embraced him in private. After a second, his shock seemed to fade, and he too rapped his arms around me.

I was frail at that point, and even though I still stood nearly a head above my people, I was not the imposing figure I once was. I had gradually lost my strength, the fire in my eyes faded, and my compassion grew. Those who would have been executed decades ago, I allowed a chance at repentance. I replaced the more violent members of my court with more pragmatic ones, knowing these people would guide my son after I was gone. My reputation amongst the people changed, the older ones, of course, still remembered me for the monster I was, the monster who had taken their mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters away from them. But the younger ones saw me as a fair ruler, and I was greeted more and more on the rare occasion I left the safety of my castle.

“Father, a new merchant has arrived in town, with wares from far off nations I have not seen since my first voyage for peace. Would you like to accompany me?” And I did. He was a young man now, 23 winters had passed since that stormy night, and I was near my end. One last trip wouldn’t hurt, and I was seldom exposed to wonders from outside my domain. We ventured down, through muddy paths, and entered the capital city. This place was larger than I remembered, no doubt from the success of my sons various diplomatic missions.

We walked the main road, when a man, slightly older than my boy walked up to us. “I cannot believe this, I never thought I would see you two in person! You may not remember, but we’ve crossed paths before.” He said to me. He was right, I did not remember, but there was something in his face that sparked recollection. “Ah, I’m sorry, you do seem familiar but I can’t quite place it.” “Oh that’s fine, I doubt you’d remember every life you ruined.” That stung. This was not the positive encounter I’d hoped it to be, and I hated to be reminded of my “glory days”. “Whatever transgression I’ve done to you, I genuinely apologize for. Come to the castle later today, we can perhaps work out some deal to reimburse you and your family. But, alas, we must get going, my son has business in town.” I hurried my boy along, this was not a side of me I wanted him to see often. But as I turned my back, my sons face lit up with fear, I felt a blade puncture my back, lost my breath, and collapsed into his arms.

The man was gone, lost in the bustling crowd. Some were gathering, but I paid it no mind. I wanted my last moments to be spent looking at my son. My boy. The child destined to end my evil reign. I had always believed he would be the one to kill me, that was my interpretation of the prophecy. Perhaps my earlier compassion was, indeed, an attempt to change fate. But, one way or the other, that prophecy had come true. I could see the rage in his teary eyes. The same rage I once saw in my own. “Do not give into it, I raised you better…” as I faded, and the pain shrunk, I saw the rage transform into utter sadness, and for a split second, he was that baby again.

EDIT: punctuation, spaced out the last paragraph.

You had the baby carefully hidden in your robes, it was lucky the baby looked like you. He had your same black hair that never stayed in place, the same brown eyes, and the same skin that was so pale it looked translucent.

You quickly made your way to the cave where your sister, Lucia, greeted you. You quickly rushed past her causing the baby to cry, but you ran into your room.

"Be quiet little one, Aunt Lucia mustn't see you yet. She will have to act as your mother until we can find another way to sustain you." You said trying to calm the baby down.

But he surprised when you slipped into his thoughts you could see redness of vampiric desire.

"It can't be. How can you be the last..." then you realize.

"You must be mine and Marie's son, but see told me that she wasn't pregnant."

'Why would she lie to me, I thought she wanted the vampiric line to continue. Now the vampiric line will continue it won't end with King Sorcen the Failure. That's what I've been called all my life now you will be the next king. King Arthern.'

‐--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, I might continue this story later. I specialize in short stories and I'm always in need of prompts so I think I found the right Subreddit. Also as you can tell I'm horrible at coming up with names, so please share some with me.

“No…”

My voice became a whisper as my daughters eyes locked with mine, the pressure of her blade sinking deep into my sternum. Tears fell, glistening like diamonds between our gaze. Magic swirled under our feet as my spirit dimmed, the prophecy had been true. Despite my unconditional love for her…she still chose to take my life. But the sheer sorrow staring back at me, the soul torn asunder gave me a sense of peace. A trust that she did this because she had to. And that I taught her well enough to make the right decision…no matter what that may be.

She held me as I died.

To think that I once feared this day. When the prophecy came to me that I would be usurped, I knew I could not allow that to come to pass. I hired as many soothsayers and magicians as I could to find out if I could avoid my fate and, alas, it appeared that the more I would fight my fate, the worse the ending may become. That I, the great Tyrant-king Alavast the Bloody, would loose my throne, one way or another. Then I silenced them; the dead can’t speak, and I would prefer the word of this prophecy not get about, and start another pointless rebellion.

So, in the grip of fate, I accepted my end by hurrying it along as best I could, in hopes that my death, my end of reign. would be less extreme. Many in my kingdom would prefer that, to see me fall in the most grisly fashion, but I refused to grant that wish.

Instead, I sought out the peasant boy fated to bring my downfall. There he was, wailing in a ditch, next to his deceased parents. As tempted as I was to drive my sword through him, tempting fate in that matter wasn’t in my best interests. No, instead I scooped up the pathetic, fragile thing, and whisked him home to my palace. I intended to raise him as my own heir, to teach him how to rule as I did, with an iron fist and no mercy for those who knew not their place.

I was such a fool.

I had never found myself so vulnerable as the first time he called me father. I taught him of control and power, while he taught me warmth and joy. Whilst I am what I am, draining the populace through taxes, and crushing any who resisted, the insides of these cold halls shone with a never before seen warmth. I taught him well, even in ways I had not intended, and when he- a strapping young man- pulled his sword from my chest to take my place, I wiped his tears with a shaking hand to tell him how proud I was of him. He would rule nothing like I would, the people already cheering behind him.

But perhaps that would not be a bad thing.

"I took you from your mother's corpse after he slaughtered your village. The meat wasn't cooked to his liking, so he went on a rampage, destroying everything in sight. It lasted 5 hours. Lucky for us, in his rage, he missed you. He went to sleep when he was all raged out, and I took control for a few minutes.

I recognised you by the birthmark on your palm. I instructed the servants to cut your hands, and cause some other injuries to hide the birthmark, to keep you safe so he would never find you. I hid you in the dungeons because I knew he'd never look there. And I taught you everything you needed to know to be able to kill him.

I'm sorry I never told you the entire truth, but it was necessary, so that you could fullfil the prophecy, and kill the demon in me, end his reign of terror. Do not mourn the fact that I am dying as well, my son. Thank you for finally freeing me. "

The son I had raised in secret for so many years, that I have come to love so dearly, stood above me, his hands stained with my blood, and the demon's. I felt the life drain out of me. I felt the absence of the demon. My mind was mine, and quiet. I had never been more proud, and hopeful for a better future. He will be a good king.

I relaxed my body, and waited for death and peace to finally take me, and in those final moments my son's face changed, an expression I had never seen before. And as my sight faded, I heard him say, "Oh no, thank you, old king, for bringing me home to my true father. You didn't honestly think you could hide me, did you? He is truly grateful to you, for giving him the idea to raise me as his own, instead of fighting fate. Yes, I killed him, and you, the last thing that stood in his way. Soon, he shall be reborn ... In me. Good-bye, old king."

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The king had long waited for the passing of the queen mother. The tales of his murdering his uncle and usurping the throne had gone on for almost 10 years. I was on his coronation day that the hermit came into the cathedral and pronounced the prophecy. A small child was to one day end his evil reign, and he himself would suffer the same fate as his uncle.

The queen mother had him arrested, and named a long list of her courtiers to the royal advisor panel. I officially petitioned to replace them with the retired knights that fought with my father. My request met with mockery and I was forced to watch as the queen mother had it buried in the archives.

The historian in the royal archives assured me that if I ever wished to repetition, the document would be made ready in a day. I quietly retired after a day at court, overseen by the queen mother, who made sure no one from the families of influence or the clergy received their petitions. A guard beckoned to me, and I realized it was Sir Morgan, my uncle's most trusted and honored knight!

He told me of the birth of boy the same day as my coronation. This boy had been hidden by the clergy in a remote region since birth. I realized the hermit who pronounced the prophecy was also the abbey of the hermitage. Since the youngster was only a few years from manhood, the knights and clergy had taken a vow to protect him.

I knew that if the kingdom learned the truth, the kingdom would be torn asunder. Many of the remote regions were starving and suffering, while the courtiers and friends of the queen mother lived in luxury. Sir Morgan assured me that if the child was victorious, all I needed to do was abdicate and allow him to take the throne. Sir Morgan was the only other man in the kingdom who knew that my "evil reign" was the work of the queen mother, who was also responsible for the death of my uncle.

A plan was put into place. I quietly whispered it to Sir Morgan the secret entrance to the royal armory, and slipped him the key to the royal vault. The child had been trained by the hermits and made aware of his destiny. Sir Morgan knew that an old ally of my uncle was also poised on the border. ready to move at his orders.

The vault also held proof of the true nature of my uncle's death, a note sealed with my uncle's royal seal. I told Sir Morgan that he must show this to the child and the old ally. He knew the danger of the mission, but assured me that the peasants were ready to follow the child.

The armies of our ally marched upon the capital, but held their distance. Sir Morgan had gathered the knights of old and surrounded the child. I knew the only way for the plan to succeed was for me to open the drawbridge upon the signal. As I quietly approached the castle guard, I ordered them to take up their positions on the wall.

I heard the battle horn of Sir Morgan sound, and ran to lower the drawbridge. The old ally and the knights of old led an army of peasants through the gate and into the city. I knew it was only a matter of time before the peasants overcame the palace guard and royal army. I ran to give the petition to the child, but the queen mother put her poisoned blade between my shoulders.

Sir Morgan had her arrested. The child visited me upon my bed, and I thanked the child for his courage and willingness to help our kingdom. The queen mother had been banished and made to live in a tower. The old hermit who had pronounced the prophecy came to my bed, and after applying some poultices and giving me a potion, assured me I would recover.

I called Sir Morgan to my bed, and I gave them my edict, declaring the child the rightful ruler and the knights of old his royal advisors. My abdication was complete, but Sir Morgan assured me that my selflessness would be forever remembered. I did recover, but would walk with a limp for the rest of my days. The hermitage offered me shelter, and the knights of old would visit me twice a year. The child often sent supplies and notes of thanks. I knew that the kingdom was safe!