Zenith

“Do me a favor, won’t you?”

Every day he heard those words.
Every day he had no choice but to obey.

He was next in line for king, though his father, his wretched father, resented him for it. He would never understand why. He never complained, never disobeyed. He never cried.
He was the epitome of grace and elegance, much unlike his father.

He had mates lined up by the mile, pure Skydancer blood flowing through their veins. His father was to choose one by look alone, and Zenith had no choice, no say in the matter.

He wanted to escape this life, to run and never return. And while he couldn’t get away with running, he sure as hell could get out for the night.

So, after he announced he was going to bed early, he fetched himself some commoner’s clothes and hoddled out his window.
A hood covered his crest and he wore a masquerade mask.

He wreaked havoc through the village, blowing out lanterns, swinging from the commoner’s clothing lines, and disrupting the farms.

He knocked on doors to wake the guard dogs certain villagers had. He half destroyed the straw roofs from the broke, and his heart was burning.

He did damage to his village. He reveled in the destruction he caused, knowing his father wouldn’t be pleased with whatever damned soul did this. He would have to spend his ill-earned wealth on fixing a village? Blasphemous.

He went to bars, getting drunk off his tail with cheap whiskey. He destroyed more property. His grin was immeasurable, sharp teeth showing themselves in their entirety.
He could hardly stand by the time dawn arose.

By the time he noticed the colors of the sky lighten ever so slightly, he shook himself off and found water to splash in his face. It didn’t sober him, but at least he could see, even if it was through wobbles and duplicates.
He hoddled through his window once more, and took a long swig of water.
He took off his mask and put it someplace safe. He tossed his commoner’s clothes under his bed, and as his fathers’ servants began to ring bells along the village, he grinned once more.

The village was devastated.

Cows were running loose, buckets of water were knocked to the ground. That was a hit. There was a drought, and even the wildlife around the waterhole was dying out.
His father had heard of the news, and Zenith could hear him scream at the messenger.

He knew exactly what he would do when the moon rose once more.