Long Live The Queen

King Jonathan was tall, his muscles sculpted into perfection effortlessly, long brown hair that fell down his shoulders, and hazel eyes that could melt the hearts of almost every woman. He was seductive, intoxicating, and built like a s*x deity. If only he wasn't quite so mad, he'd be a good catch. We start our story long after he accidentally killed his first wife, the moment when his mind broke. When Queen Rosa had been alive, he had been kind, capable of love. Benevolent, sure that he had everything. A beautiful daughter, a beautiful queen, and a lush green land that provided for his people, and allies all around him. But Queen Rosa did not feel the same. She stole from him, she lied to him, and ultimately, she betrayed him with his best friend. And Jonathan found out in the hottest month, in the driest season, he could not stand it. It broke his heart, twisting it, warping it. In the ten years they were together, he thought things were perfect. He thought she loved him. When he found them together, his 'best' friend fled, though he did not get far. Jonathan took his hands and laid them on his wife, violently, repeatedly. Before he could stop himself, he was looking at her battered, bloody corpse, her green eyes wide open in a permanent gaze of terror But his pain was not satiated. His most trusted friend, the one who had been by his side since childhood, his advisor, his confidant was dragged back before him by guards by the order of the King. And Jonathan allowed his wife's body to be displayed before him, his blank eyes and expressionless face watching the anguish of his friend's own face. "How could you? She was your wife..." At these words, Jonathan's face contorted into a sick grin, and he laughed. "My wife? MY wife? That was my wife? No, my old friend. She was more than that. She was my life. She was my world. And you lay with her. For how long I almost wonder? How long were my wife and the man I knew like a brother betraying me?" His words were thick with malice, the hatred practically dripping with each word. "But I don't care. It doesn't matter how long it happened. The only thing that matters... is that it did. Chain him to the roof of the tallest tower. And leave him there. Let the predators of the sky pick his bones clean." "Wait! Jonathan! No! Please I-" But the begging man was dragged away. And still, yet the pain was still not satiated. Queen Rosa's head was cut off and put on a spike outside of his walls as a message that King Jonathan would never again be betrayed, and never again would he ever love. His pain was so prominent, so thick, his anguish something that nothing could extinguish. And maybe time would have healed him. Maybe one day he could have been forgiven for his sins. Maybe one day he would have found someone to heal the deep wounds inflicted upon his soul when his true love hurt him. But unfortunately for every single soul under King Jonathan's domain, in a forgotten vault beneath the castle, sealed off by stone and mortar as it’s tomb, a demon was kept. A demon that Jonathan's great-great-grandfather had defeated long before his birth. A legend that people had soon thought to be a fable. Contained in a blessed jeweled urn the demon could feel the pain even miles below the surface of the palace grounds. And it was sweet and glorious. And so, it began to feed. The twisted pain a straight connection into Jonathan's mind. And Jonathan began to sink deep into a blackness. His anguish became a hatred for everything and everyone. He began raising the levy on the taxes. He stopped providing for his people. As poverty and sickness began to run rampant throughout his entire kingdom, the anguish of the people also began to feed the demon. The rain never came back, even though rainclouds loomed in the sky, blocking out the sun of his kingdom. The demon whispered in Jonathan's mind until he no longer had to whisper into the mad king's ear, Jonathan's warped and broken mind began to feed on its own darkness. And as time went on, he only became crueler, and madder. And his people, even the richest, continued to suffer.