Chapter Text
The massive hallways were considerably empty as they usually were at that late hour. Raindrops tapped against the large, arched windows, a flash of lightning obscuring the view outside for a split second. Thunder rumbled soon after, shaking the castle walls. Three men marched down the halls; two of which were in full suits of armor, the silver shining in the candlelight. The shortest of the three, Lúcio glanced anxiously between the two guards as they stuck close to him. He didn’t need to ask them anything; from the abrupt way they approached and said the king requested his presence, he immediately knew the reason why. And it was just that that made his heart pound violently in his chest.
The three men eventually reached a large wooden door at the end of the hall; it felt as if it had taken hours, despite Lúcio having been through these halls many times. It was like he was trying to navigate his way through the castle for the first time all over again. One of the guards knocked on the door and it soon opened. Two more guards stood in stiff positions on each side, their heavy helmets slowly following Lúcio as he stepped in.
The walls of the throne room were carefully covered in a flawless layer of golden paint. An enormous golden chandelier hung from the curved ceiling, the glow of numerous candles illuminating the room. Pillars lined the walls, each one having the kingdom’s banner hanging from them: a golden outline of a boar’s head on red fabric. Lúcio kept his eyes down as he walked down the long, red carpet. At the end of it he stopped and knelt. From then on, he waited for permission to stand; he knew better than to do otherwise.
“Rise, Lúcio,” echoed a deep voice. As Lúcio stood, he finally allowed himself to look at the man before him: King Mako Rutledge. The throne was as massive as him. It had to be hand-crafted in order to hold his mighty form; no ordinary throne would suffice. Everything about the king was impressive in size - even when seated he towered over everyone. It was a wonder he could fit in any clothes, yet even the finest tailor couldn’t craft a shirt long enough to cover the entirety of his protruding stomach. Everything he wore looked tight on him, arms as thick as tree trunks bulging out under the royal blue sleeves.
As if his mountainous form wasn’t intimidating enough, there was also his face. Broad nose, plump lips curved into a permanent frown and small, piercing blue eyes that were enough to make anyone writhe in their own skin. Behind that emotionless expression, no one could tell what he was thinking. It kept everyone in the castle on edge, not knowing when the ticking bomb that was their king was going to go off next.
“I suppose you know why you’re here,” Mako said.
“Yes, your Majesty,” Lúcio said, trying to come off as calm as he could muster.
“Care to explain yourself?”
With a long, deep breath, Lúcio began explaining. “Well, everyone’s seemed kinda down lately. I wanted to lighten the mood, so I started singing - the lyrics kind of just came to me,”
“And insult me and everything I’ve worked for?”
Lúcio tensed at the subtle growl in his voice. “Yes, your majesty,” No use in being dishonest. “It seemed to cheer people up, so I kept doing it,”
The king was silent for a moment. “I hired you and let you live comfortably in my castle in exchange for entertainment - and you betray me,” Lúcio wasn’t shocked by his extreme choice of words; he was always known for having a short temper, after all. “I’m sure you know the punishments for treason are severe,”
Lúcio’s heart nearly stopped. He expected Mako to punish him in some way for mocking him behind his back, but not to such an extreme degree. Sure, his song was filled with lyrics jabbing at the king, but nothing about them ever implied any intentions of betraying him.
“Treason? All I did was make up a song!” Even behind those heavy helmets, Lúcio could tell the guards’ eyes were on him, silently pleading with him to stop before he could aggravate the king any further - for his sake. The guards - trained and commanded to protect their ruler at all costs - even agreed Mako was out of control. But it needed to be done. If no one else would stand up to Mako, then he would. “You wanna know why I sang those songs mocking you? Because you make everyone miserable! You terrify your subjects and everyone in this castle to get what you want. And you know what? They loved it - because it’s all true! You’re not fit to be king! You’re just a cruel, spoiled brat!”
A low growl rumbled from Mako as he gripped the armrests with force. The wood cracked beneath his nails as they left dents on the surface, causing everyone in the room to jump.
“How dare you,” Mako snarled through clenched teeth, his eyes gaping with rage. Without warning, he stood and stomped down the stairs leading to his throne straight for Lúcio. Everything in Lúcio’s head screamed at him to run, but his feet remained glued to the floor as he stared the furious monster of a man right in the eye.
A round of three, slow knocks had Mako freezing mere feet away. Everyone glanced towards the door where it was coming from in a mutual confusion. One of the guards moved to answer it.
“No,” Mako said, to which the guard immediately recoiled back to his position. “I’ll answer it,” The floor shook beneath Lúcio’s feet as Mako lumbered past him like a forgotten thought. With more force than necessary, he slammed the door open, causing it to bang into the wall. At first, there appeared to be no one there, until Mako realized he had to look even further down than usual to find the culprit.
An old woman stood hunched over in the pouring rain. She was soaking wet, shivering violently from the harsh wind. Her thin arms were wrapped tightly around her, clutching her cloak with frail hands to keep it from blowing off her. Mako grimaced upon seeing her face. Sagged, wrinkly skin hung from her face, dangling from her neck. She had a pointy, hooked nose and a large boil on her upper lip. Both of her eyes were pale white, glazed over by cataracts. Pathetic.
“What do you want? You have interrupted something very important,” Mako demanded, his patience immediately wearing thin with the old crone.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” came out a hoarse voice. “All I ask for is a night out of the pouring rain,”
A scoff left Mako. “Let a filthy, old hag into my palace? I don’t think so. Get out of my sight,” As he began closing the door, a small hand lurched out of the cloak and clutched the door.
“Please, just one night,” the woman pleaded, desperation growing in her tone. “It’s not much, but I’ll give you this,” She reached into her cloak, pulling out a red rose.
Mako sneered at the gift, almost insulted by it. Did this peasant take him for a fool? What could he possibly gain from a measly flower? “Leave. Or I’ll give you a place to stay in the dungeon,” he growled. As pleasing as the idea sounded, he preferred to not have to see the wretched crow’s face any longer. With the woman still holding onto the door, he tried shutting it. But it wouldn’t budge, no matter how much force he shoved into it. How could such a fragile old lady possibly prevent him from closing the door? As much as it boggled his mind, he didn’t dwell on it.
“I would warn you not to be deceived by appearances,” the woman said, her tone taking a serious turn.
Oh, that was it. Patience forgotten, Mako reached out and grabbed the woman by the neckline of her cloak. At that moment, something in her changed. Her wrinkles melted away, revealing fair, pale skin. Mako recoiled and backed away, unsure whether his eyes were deceiving him or not. His eyes widened as he watched streaks of blonde shoot through her thin strands of gray hair until they were much thicker and healthier, tied casually behind her head. The cloak on her seemingly undid itself and flew off, revealing a sparkling golden dress. In her hands were the rose and a long, thin stick of some sort. She was beautiful; more beautiful than most women Mako had ever seen, yet there was something about her that set him on edge. She eyed him with a stern - almost disappointed look.
“What a selfish fool,” she said, her voice young and strong. “I see that there is no love left in your heart,”
Uneased by the mysterious woman, Mako did something he hadn’t done in years: he knelt before the woman, hands clasped together. “I’m sorry,” he said, more for his sake than hers. “I didn’t realize-”
“Silence!” the woman bellowed, the force of her voice almost knocking him back. “I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, and you wasted it. You will be punished for your selfish ways,”
She pointed the stick at him, muttering in a strange language Mako never heard. Once she finished, a thin strand of light shot out of the wand. Before he could react, it shot into him; it didn’t hurt, but it certainly took him by surprise. For a few seconds he stood, awaiting some sort of reaction. Nothing happened. Cockiness getting the better of him, he started to laugh, his voice booming against the walls.
At that moment, a sharp, stabbing pain surged throughout him. A pained gasp left him as he landed on his hands and knees. Sweat almost immediately started beading down his forehead as his skin burned up at an alarming rate. He wanted to move, he wanted to tell the guards to attack whatever the hell this woman was, but the pain was all he could focus on. From the horrified gasps coming from everyone else in the room, something was happening; he didn’t realize it was happening to him until he felt it.
The pain got even worse in his feet. He screamed, his stomach tightening as he could hear his own skin stretching and bones reforming as his feet grew even longer at a slow, agonizing pace. A stinging ache shot through his toes as his toenails grew longer, turning black as they took a sharper shape. The pain seemed to move upwards as his body changed. Bones snapped as his legs reformed themselves, twisting in impossible directions. His calves began jutting out, so far to the point that his pants began to rip. Strands of gray hair grew on his arms and legs in mere seconds, covering every trace of his skin until it was hidden under layers of fur.
Mako was an impenetrable fortress, impossible to break emotionally and physically. Many wondered if the man was even capable of feeling fear. Never before had they ever heard him screaming the way he was - piercing, pained wails that were enough to generate a tight churning in the pit of anyone’s stomach.
The guards could only watch in silent horror as their king transformed. No one tried stopping the woman, afraid that they would be struck with the same punishment as well. Lúcio’s eyes were glued to Mako’s trembling back as his spine poked out, reforming itself into more of an arch. He was almost unrecognizable with the fur covering him and his lower half reshaped. All that hadn’t been changed was his head and face; his brows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut in pain.
Little did any of them know the transformation was still far from over. The ends of Mako’s face seemed to jut out slightly, until they were full on extending out. A loud cry left him as an even worse pain overcame his whole head. His screams didn’t sound human anymore, having a deep, animalistic filter over them. The tip of his nose swelled, until it was twice its original size. The flesh twisted and turned loudly until it resembled the snout of a boar. His ears relocated themselves, stopping near the top of his head. Ever so slowly, the tips grew until they were pointy. An achy throbbing spread through his teeth as they extended, the tips ending at a sharp point. On each side, one tooth grew longer than the others until they were pointing out of the sides of his mouth, sharp at the edges like tusks.
And just like that, the pain seeped out of him, leaving him feeling empty. Drained from his torment, Mako’s arms and legs gave out underneath him and he landed on the floor. Silence flooded the room as Lúcio and the guards froze, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, a swirl of golden light began circling around each of them. Air blew against Lúcio as it passed by, blowing his clothes and hair up. For a brief moment, all Lúcio could see was a soft, golden light until the room came back to his vision once more; only he was on the floor, and everything looked much bigger. As he tried getting up, he realized he couldn’t feel his hands or feet; all he could feel was the cold floor beneath him. He could hear panicked voices, yet none of the guards were to be seen., His eyes darted across the room, spotting what looked to be axes, swords and other weapons on the floor. It took a second for him to realize they were moving by themselves. But, it couldn’t be. He tried moving his hands, but he couldn’t see them. Panicked, he looked down at the tile floor in an attempt to see his reflection, only he didn’t see his face. He saw a thin drum, a dark brown eye on each side of the wooden shell. They were his eyes.
Among the panicked screams and cries for help, the woman looked down upon Mako’s exhausted form, eyeing him like a hurt animal with an almost pitiful expression. “The rose I have bestowed upon you is enchanted and will bloom for ten years. Should you learn to love another and they love you in return during that time, the spell I have placed on you will be broken. If not, you and everyone in this castle will remain in your altered forms forever,” As she backed away, a burst of light engulfed her. When it subsided, she was gone. With the rose no longer in her hand, it fell and landed gently on the floor. “Learn from this, Mako Rutledge.” her words echoed.
Mako felt a sudden burst of energy coursing through his body. His eyes opened and he immediately saw his hands; covered in gray fur, long, sharp claws at the edges of his fingertips. He gasped as he stood to his feet; he had to find a mirror - now. He ran out of the room, barely noticing that his servants had been altered as well. The doors slammed as he burst into his quarters and ran towards the nearest mirror. A horrified gasp escaped him as he was met with what he had become. He was hideous - he wasn’t even sure what exactly he was. A combination of animals melted into a new, terrifying creature. Letting out a frustrated yell, he brought his fist crashing through the mirror, shattering the glass. In one of the broken fragments, a distorted image of a face was staring at him from behind. Whipping around, he saw a stern face looking back at him; a painting of him he had commissioned a few years back. He charged towards it and slashed at the canvas until it was unrecognizable.
Eventually staring at the remnant of what he once was became too much to bear. This wasn’t some cruel lesson to learn from, this was a punishment - a punishment he didn’t feel was deserved. Overcome with shame, he buried his face in his hands, his claws digging into his brow. Though the mysterious woman mentioned a way to break the curse, he felt utterly hopeless. He couldn’t leave the castle, the world would only fear him. No one could possibly learn to love a creature like him - the world wasn’t meant for something like him anyways.