The Prince Never Sleeps

He collapsed onto the stone slab that served as a bed. He stretched out in the dark, feeling a sense of power sweep over him. Every now and then he would remember that he was a ruler. He was the lord and master of Hell. How many angels could claim that? He turned onto his stomach, letting his black wings fall open on either side of the slab. As he closed his eyes to sleep, he felt nothing but pride.

Her body resembled more of a skeleton than an actual human. Her cheeks were caved in, her eyes sunken; every bone in her body could be seen. The icy water dripped from the top of her cell onto her boney figure. The water’s source was unknown. She let it pour over her until she was just wet enough to slip her arm out of the cell and pick the lock with a bone. The source of the bone was unknown. She opened the cell door just enough that she could slip through. She climbed up the wall like an insect, moving quickly and silently above the cells until she reached the archway. Slipping through archway from the top, she scanned the room for guards—unaware that he and he alone, was the guard of the inescapable prison. She dropped silently to the floor and dashed across the room to the throne, slipping silently into the hidden doorway.

He was sleeping, his wings rising and falling with each unnecessary breath. She crept up to the slab of stone and looked him over. He was a remarkably good looking man. Though he looked a bit famished and slightly dead, his coal colored hair was cut perfectly, and his pale skin created a glorious contrast between his skin and his black hair, black attire and black wings. She stared at the wings in envy. She lifted the sharpened bone above her head and thrust it downward into the back of the sleeping prince. His eyes bolted open and his mouth cried out a silent scream. She dragged the bone through his back, across his wings, snapping the brittle bones within them. He lay in shock as she leaned forward and whispered insults and threats in his ear. She returned to her business, stabbing the immortal Prince of Darkness multiple times, breaking brittle bone after brittle bone in his wings.

After what seemed ages, and very well may have been, she finished. Stepping away from her victim now covered in blood. She smiled at the sight of his body lying limp. It happened in the blink of an eye. He was suddenly behind her, holding her hands tightly behind her back. She struggled against him, but the water on her hands had long since dried and she was unable to escape. He walked her down the hallway as she screeched, ignoring the trail of blood, putting out each of the blue candles as he walked. No one would see him like this.

Measures were taken to ensure her never escaping again. The leak from nowhere was sealed; the door on her cell was removed. The wounds on the prince healed, though his wings remained a shattered mess, constantly dripping blood. He would fold them flat against his back and cover them with a black cloak. As far as the prisoners from then on would know, he had no wings.