Chapter Text
I am Azoth Zosimos. First of my name.
I was born bewitched, with an eye unstilled by focus, and a small frame that often had me mistaken for the younger brother. But no, I am the heir to my kingdom… a title I was reluctant to hold in my youth, for all the great expectations those around me insisted I live up to.
Perhaps due to my frailty, my mother saw fit to train me in the arcane practices of her home kingdom. All magic is a bargain, a give and take, and it requires a willingness to remove a piece of yourself to manifest miracles into the world. For my mother, it was her hair… for me, knowing that I would want for little once I inherited the throne, I chose to take from my flesh.
The creatures of this world need not give up parts of themselves to work miracles… and that makes them immensely dangerous. I am not nearly strong enough to do battle with these monsters, to fend them off or slay them, but my brother excels in my stead. He will make a fine general… if he can endure the fact that I will be king, and he will not.
I often eschewed the company of humans, in favor of books, machines, plants, magic, and the creatures all around us… I still do, but my childhood especially was a lonely one, so these things brought solace. I love to create, to use my hands to better my kingdom. Many of my courtiers believe me a sullen man, but I simply find joy in different places than them.
As such, there was a worry within my court, and especially from my father, that I would not be a capable king… that my reticent and withdrawn nature would hold me back.
But… now, the throne is mine. After the death of my father, I now sit where he once did.
I can only hope that I am a better king than he was.
I rule over Gaulyss, Palaides, and the seas beyond it… a heavy crown to bear, but someone must. I am burdened with a great many stresses, but the occasional blessings remind me of the fruits of my labor, of my power.
I inherited this throne five years ago, at the age of 20, when my mother still lived. It has been a few years since her terrible passing, as well, but after I became king, she bestowed upon me a priceless gift…
A friend.
A delicate Flower-Keeper, graceful and petite, and unafraid of me in spite of how small she is. She has such a vibrant personality, and adapted to my presence quickly despite being an entirely different species to me. She may not speak with words, but I know her every want at every moment, just as she does mine.
I may be the king of Gaulyss, its guardian, but that does little to quell the loneliness of a throne room. Deference is welcome, expected even, but it leaves people afraid. The creatures of this world hold no such deference to men, at least not inherently. They care not for titles or deeds… they know one’s soul inside and out, they can smell your fear or hatred.
I ought to be grateful that this Flower-Keeper only senses the love I have for her.
She aides me in my magical practice, assists me in my garden, and lends a hand in my construction of machines to better the lives of my people. She is steadfast, and stronger than her meager form might lead one to believe.
My people shower me with gratitude, and I shower her with mine.
For once, I feel as if my strengths outweigh my weaknesses. I am not bound by the frailties of my flesh when in this role— people look to me for wisdom, caring not if my eye is bewitched, or my body feeble.
It… is nice to be appreciated.