Work Text:
Elusive, esteemed, and sacred. No matter which realm, in the end, all drool at the prospect of it. Power. The five-letter word that sent the sanest of men into a blinding haze.
Naturally, the King of Thieves lusted over the imagery of power. The hunt for power was second nature to any demon, programmed into each one since birth. Perhaps it was because only the strong survived in the land of demons, or perhaps it was merely the nature of the beasts.
The King of Thieves was the envy of many.
Cunning, the sharpest of swords, was as simple as breathing for the King of Thieves, or so the stories say. Words are power, tempting, serenading, and artful. Countless stories told of how the thief had stolen from the most secret of places, the only tools used being a seductively sweet smile and honeyed words.
Knowledge, the strongest of poisons, was a toy to be manipulated by the King of Thieves, or so the ledged says. Information is power, devious, controlling, and guarded. The tales wove of how the thief had taken advantage of countless battles, the only tools used being the detailed data and probable predictions.
Glory, the greatest of honours, was bestowed through every whisper told about the King of Thieves. Reverence is power, ethereal, inspiring, and beautiful. The lore of the thief told stories of the thief’s dominance as he stood in fields of gore, the only tools used being merciless wit and terrifying strength.
Yes, the otherworldly King of Thieves was the envy of many.
However, there was a secret that those approaching the top, close to grasping the true straws of power, knew. A secret not guarded like the many locks the thief could pick in his sleep, nor was it has shrouded in mystery like the information the thief could seduce from most. No, this was a secret that anyone with power would freely share, but nobody wanted to believe it, not even those who were under its influence, thus it was near impossible for it to be known.
Power was simply a five-letter word.
Many lose their sanity in pursuit for their natural purpose, to gain power. However, the closer the crown came to being placed on one’s head, the brighter the fool’s gold gleamed.
People looked, searched, craved, for something. Power was not what they were looking for.
Power’s only true strength was manipulating the fools of the world’s entirety into thinking that it was what they were craving.
The cunning, knowledgeable, glorified King of Thieves was no exception to this rule, nor was he wise enough to believe that the whispers power had fed him since infancy were lies. That he had been fooled into its game.
Perhaps that was why the King of Thieves threw aside his bandits, in favour of roaming solo. Perhaps that was why the King of Thieves had decided to stay a thief rather than crown himself a true king.
It was inevitable that death came to seek out the player that refused the continue the game of power, yet refused to slip from the tantalizing fruit that power had given him.
However, true to the crafted mastermind that he was, even death could not catch him. No, the crafty mastermind cheated even death, a testament to his sly.
Given a new body, a new life, and a new world, the thief observed.
He observed selflessness. A foreign concept, harder to understand than any puzzle, but the thief quizzically looked on.
He observed gentleness. A seemingly meaningless act, much more restraint needed than for any amount of cunning, but the thief imploringly looked on.
He observed love. An incompressible feeling, much more difficult to learn than any art form, but the thief began to peruse.
Greed was in his nature, the thief wanted to know everything, and humanity was the next game.
It was different from power, this word called love.
It was a feeling, an act without tact or reason. The simplicity of it was bordering on laughable.
Yet, as the thief learned to protect, to show mercy, and to love, he began to understand the truth behind the game that life had captured so many in. Power was a false pursuit, empty once obtained. Love was an eternal flame, promising belonging once obtained.
The truth that the thief had concluded was that life was a game of balance. Mercy and cruelty, love and hate, glory and humbleness, they were all the duality that made-up living. Each rose had its thorns, each spark of life was neither black nor white.
Love and power were not dualities on opposing sides. Love was elusive, esteemed, and sacred, just as power. They could exist in harmony.
And perhaps, now that the thief had experienced the dualities of life at its finest, he would try something entirely new.
The King of Thieves would give.