Rupert was old. He was tired. He’s spent his life being at the mercy of others- whether they were humans or goblins or even elves. When his mother gave birth to him, it was only due to his mother’s cousin swearing secrecy and claiming to the town that he- her child- had died during the birthing process that he was able to live in the first place.

He spent ten years on that farm. Hidden on the land, near the corner of the village border. His grandparents were kind, so kind in fact, that it was no wonder why his mother’s family promised to keep him secret. Why his mother was so loving to him despite only having him to thwart off an unwanted suitor.

But then that cousin went missing- alongside many other people from other villages- and the unwanted suitor took to stalking his mother once more. He found out about Rupert, and shortly after so did the village. They stormed their farm with flames and blades of iron and steel, and Rupert’s grandparents gave up their lives to allow Rupert and his mother, Cassandra, a chance of escape.

Eleven years after that, Rupert still looked like a boy. Slowly aging, appearing no more than a teen, compared to his gradually oldening mother. They lived in a forest within the human kingdom, far from any town that could hurt them, and found refuge in what appeared to be an old and abandoned shack.

They built themselves a garden and some simple furniture, and pulled together dead grass and hay for beds. And despite her wishes, Rupert tried to steal into towns and procure medicine and clothes for his mother whenever he had the chance. He didn’t mind the pain- it certainly hurt, more than he would ever like to admit, but if it meant his mother could live just a little longer he would happily suffer time and again.

So when that man appeared, with his pale skin and pointed ears and beige horns adorned with turquoise scales… Rupert felt all the hurt and fear and anger come together. Boiling inside of him, rampaging, but he turned away- shutting it down like everything else despite the cutthroat feeling of betrayal tearing deep into his heart.

He’s never seen him before. The monster that fathered him. The Incubus who gave his mother her escape from the unwanted suitor and stalker. He had hoped he never would see him, for it was him who had caused Rupert to look like this, who had caused such a wonderful family to be torn apart by tragedy and bigotry.

If Rupert… had even looked the slightest bit more like his mother, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad. If his hair was brown instead of blue, and his eyes a chestnut brown instead of a piercing reptilian green, and he lacked the horns that curled around the back of his head… people might have been more accepting.

But it was these traits- the signs of an Incubus’ offspring- that caused his grandparents to die and his mother to suffer without proper medical treatment. An Incubus doesn't usually visit the same person twice- and yet now, with the monster’s most recent and very unexpected visit, she was even put through a second pregnancy.

A pregnancy she shouldn’t be going through- for her body was too weak and there were just too many risks because of her current age. But she was determined, risking everything in a foolish hope that Rupert would have at least one person in his life that would love him after she was gone.

But, as everything does to a child cursed by the world, it didn’t go as planned.

His mother bled too much and her body ran cold, and the tiny infant girl she gave birth to couldn’t take so much as a single breath. Adaline, whom Rupert decided to name in grief, was a still born, and he stayed there in the hut cradling her to his chest as he collapsed beside their mother, broken and numb.

He had… lost everything. Everyone he cared about, everyone who cared about him. All his efforts, all the injuries he had sustained; it was all for nothing. Wounds can heal, but scars will always last, and lives can never be returned from death.

Rupert was alone.

…

Eventually Rupert pulled himself to his feet and made graves right outside their shabby little home, falling to his knees and nearly losing his grip on the shovel as he started to cry in silence, unable to even begin the burial process.

When he was able to start and then finish, he planted some of the flowers they had atop the grave. It was the kingdom of flowers, after all, and his mother loved plants more than anything. He spent about a week in solitude, not going anywhere and simply existing within the home he once shared with his sickly mother.

Rupert had… spent his entire life with her. Caring for and trying to nurse her back to health. Now that she was gone, it felt like he had no purpose. Nothing to do and nothing to care for. He was her child, but as the son of an Incubus he was still an abomination to nature.

So why… was it when that noble from before- the Baron with the black hair and blue eyes and thick brows- located him and his home, did Rupert find it in himself to run? He thought about giving in, in accepting the death so many people wanted to give him, but when the moment came- he grabbed what he could and ran.

Was it because of his mother? Her foolish desire for him to be happy? Or was it because Rupert was simply selfish, desiring a life he could never have, and wanting to live not because he should, but simply to spite those who desired his death?

At first, Rupert ran blindly. He wasn’t thinking. But then he remembered- after an argument he had with his mother about her decision of having a second child, he accidentally wandered into a strange realm. There he encountered… creatures colored in green and yellow. Creatures he would later learn were called Goblins. 

When he disappeared from the realm, he had seen that he was standing in a ring of mushrooms. What that meant he wasn’t exactly sure, but it did make him wonder if they had anything to do with the disappearances of several villagers and his mother’s cousin.

Running was pretty much a habit at this point; he couldn’t fight back against the villagers without hurting them, so he opted to retreat instead more often than not.

Rupert ended up leading the noble through the forest and into the ring, losing him amongst the silvery blue grass and red bark trees, their gold and amber leaves shimmering in the unnatural glow of a twilight night. There he found a cave, filled to the brim with geodes and jewels, a sleeping dragon colored black and blue, with leathery wings which sparkled like stars from the night sky, that spent most days asleep, curled up in the center.

After much panic and fear, Rupert found himself a home there. The dragon seemed to have mistaken him for a hatchling of some sort, for it seemed quite welcoming of him. And after wandering around a bit and trying to become accustomed to the strange and unfamiliar land, Rupert learned how to properly defend himself.

His claws were sharp and his fangs were deadly. Between chopping down trees for firewood, fighting for survival against all the magical beings that wished to eat and/or kill him, and trying to understand the plants and flowers and herbs to start building up a farm for a decent food supply… he became quite fierce.

Goblins were afraid of him, Ogres knew better than to mess with him, and Trolls were… well, stupid, so they still tried to attack. Thankfully, despite their large size, they were slow- so as long as Rupert could trip them or make them fall, he was good to go. If a situation was really dire, he could run back to the geode cave and the enemies would falter- as if sensing the dangerous dragon that slept within.

Yet… in that time Rupert found something most peculiar. In the many years Rupert spent within that realm, he found himself the victim of pranks. He had no idea what was causing them, who it was, or why they were even doing it. They just kept messing with him.

The dragon he lived with didn’t even seem to mind the weird pranks that someone kept pulling on Rupert. One day he’d find himself waking with blue skin and eyes, and his long hair turned black, and it would only fade away after several hours. But not before someone or something had splashed him with water when he was in the midst of doing laundry in the star-filled river. More annoying was when one cut off his hair that he spent so long growing, but then had the gall to drop clothes and books he didn’t know how to read off in the cave.

He did learn, eventually. Though only after a magical butterfly nearly blinded him. He was stunned to discover he could decipher the strange runes that were written in the books, and wondered if the butterflies themselves were the source of the pranks- but quickly dismissed that idea and settled for reading instead. There was so much to learn. 

And Rupert learned everything he could in this odd place, studying and observing until he no longer knew what year it was or even the time of month. With the slow process at which he aged, it was next to impossible to tell. He even learned that he could leave this odd realm and return back to his original one, the land where elves and dwarves and humans resided. Where demons such as Incubi and Succubi tried to roam. 

The continent of Verablum.

Sometime in the future, when he was taller than both humans and elves, he wandered back out into the kingdom of Florensia and stumbled upon a horrible war. There he hid behind a hood, and it was there he used the skills and knowledge he gained to help the wounded he came across.

Why, he wasn’t really certain. Humans never paid him any generosity or kindness; Rupert spent his life fighting for survival, earning scar after scar after scar, mending but never truly healing. He should have left them to suffer.

He should have left them to bleed.

But… he didn’t. Perhaps he pitied them? Felt the tiniest bit of sympathy and compassion for those who were scared of what they didn't understand? Yet, if that was the case, why were Humans and Green Elves working together? Why had the Grey Elf kingdom attacked? Maybe they had grown more tolerable, or perhaps they were just desperate.

Rupert was curious, but he was jaded and no longer truly cared. He was moving automatically at this point, body wandered through the destruction on its own and saving the injured, changing the tide of the war, his mind far gone and not at all fully acknowledging his actions. Because of this, Rupert was completely unaware that he had encountered the human prince- abandoned by his tyrannical king of a father to die, yet betrothed to a brilliant young noble that was waiting eagerly for his return as she searched for a way to dethrone his father. 

The prince's left arm had been sacrificed, but his life was spared… and it was there he caught sight of the one who pulled him from the brink of death.

Looking up, the prince saw a pair of reptilian eyes that glistened like emeralds, deep and intense, staring through one’s soul and calculating the level on which a person can be trusted. Dark skin that shone beneath the moonlight, and hair as dark and blue as the midnight sky. A pair of sharp fangs poking out from between full lips, and a scar marring his strong chin, another cutting across his left eye. 

Beautiful, was all he could think at that moment. 

A gift from the heavens above. His fortune, from her love- the goddess of their kingdom of flowers, Amaryllis. She sent upon them their savior.

So why… did he disappear?

Not long after the war had been won, after he defeated the royal family of Chalcedonia and returned to Florensia to discover the king had been assassinated, did the man disappear.

That prince was known as Charles Lycaon, who had led the Human kingdom of Florensia into a mutually beneficial alliance with the Green Elf kingdom of Rosalia, and cursed the Grey Elf kingdom to abandon their name of Chalcedonia- their previous glory and magnificence becoming no more than a myth. A kingdom where all royalty except the despised illegitament prince was killed, and where the citizens were left to pick up the pieces from their greedy invasion. 

Yet despite all that’s changed and occurred, there was still one thing Charles could not do- even with the help of his ever brilliant wife, Selena.

Locate the man who had saved him and his people. He wanted to reward him, to express his gratitude and throw a celebration in his honor.

Charles had already made a place in the castle for him, ready to accommodate him at a moment’s notice. People were out searching for him, yet never really knowing who to look for. The description was neither that of an elf or dwarf or even a human, and instead seemed like that of a demon.

The child of a most heinous, seductive creature; one whom all were wary and most feared.

But one day Rupert wandered back into the land… observing the changes in the kingdom with both curiosity and confusion, and someone saw him. They gazed at his piercing eyes beneath the hood and cried for the guards, and forcibly bringing him into the castle, they finally met.

In his one arm, King Charles held a toddler- three years old with a curly mop of dirty blond hair, and a woman beside him that greatly resembled the child through the piercing, calculating eyes she used to look at him. Eyes that belonged on her, but should not belong on a child so young. It was unnerving. But Charles, whose grey eyes were bright and full of love and life, was completely different. Rupert, tired though he was, couldn't help but wonder why that was. 

No sooner had he had that thought, Charles ordered the guards to release the half-demon, and Rupert was made to kneel.

There the king stepped forward and asked him his name. Shortly after, he handed the child to the woman and withdrew his sword, and where Rupert closed eyes to brace for the death that had finally come for him… welcoming it, even, he found himself being knighted instead, granted the honor of a noble’s name and the title of “Sir Rupert Raymal Duprees”.

He was tired. Old. Jaded. He knew not his age or the year it was, his young appearance as deceiving as this stranger’s kindness. And yet, for once, after spending so long alone with only a grumpy and very sleep dragon for company, he found himself being drawn into this promise of a better life.

He accepted the name and the title, and the apothecary and greenhouse that had been made and granted to him in his honor. The clothes, the money that came from the medicine he made. The room and bed he was given- oh goddess, the bed was so soft and unfamiliar. He spent several nights on the hard floor before he coul get accustomed to the mattress.

All Rupert did not care for was the hateful stares of the castle occupants, of the nobles who glared at him and whispered about him with fear and disdain. But that was fine. He didn’t like it, but he accepted it. That was his fate as the cursed child of an Incubus. Nothing was ever going to change, and he was too tired to care.