Achlys

 Not all princes are charming. The fae shared stories of men who are all kind and good, handsome and honourable. They lied to us.

My prince was not what you would expect, if the fae are to be believed. Scars from a childhood accident marred his face and twisted his body and his mind. Children shied away from him and even the dogs would run when they sensed him coming. Something about his presence whispered of hidden evils, of danger that was barely contained. When I first encountered him, his manner sent a shiver down my spine.

But for all of that, I loved him. Deep down, he was kind and good, though he trusted very few with that side of him. A ruler had to be strong, especially in a war torn country such as ours. It wasn't anywhere special, but it sat on several important trade routes. That meant any military advances along said trade routes had to march through our lands. Foreign soldiers were responsible for more deaths than Achlys ever was, though he was the only one who faced punishment for it.

His brother was first in line for the throne, the heir apparent. If something were to happen, Achlys was next in line, but he was content with merely watching his brother rule from his shadows, where no one could make out his features enough to be afraid of him. I first met him in those shadows and, until the day his brother died, our relationship was hidden by the same.

Duyen was killed by soldiers in a raid, a death that many would say was honourable. Of course, honourable death or not, he was still dead.

Achlys was suddenly yanked from his shadows, and I with him. He had watched his brother learn how to be a king for years, and knew much of what he had to know. However, there is something that no manner of lessons can teach, and that was honour. Years of being tormented over his appearance mean that he was cold and cruel, to everyone except me. He was even cruel to me sometimes, but only when other people were nearby.

Perhaps I should've given up on him then, but I couldn't. The scared little boy he showed me when we were alone needed someone to depend on. Because of that little boy, I stayed by his side, quietly accepting his anger and his love, almost in equal measure.

His lack of honour made Achlys exactly the king that our country needed. He was willing to do what no one else did, such as reforming the army, pushing the men harder than they'd ever been pushed. My prince also ordered that all able-bodied young men join his army, something his brother had hesitated to do.

Achlys was the one who finally stood up to the armies that marched through our lands. The men in our army learned to ignore the unspoken rules of fighting, instead using methods that were previously considered too cowardly to employ. But Achlys ordered it, and it saved our country.

Many of the decisions he was forced to make tore at him, but he was willing to sacrifice what little bit of his humanity was left if it meant saving his country. Some might say that it was honour that drove him to make the sacrifices he did, but it was not. He lied and cheated and twisted his way to peace, and the people hated him for it. They hated that he'd taken their sons and sent them back broken, that he'd betrayed every moral they held dear in order to secure peace.

Looking back, I suppose the uprising was inevitable, but it shocked me at the time. Perhaps that was because I saw how he truly felt, the horror at what he did and the immense guilt over every battle. But that was the side of himself that he kept locked away, deep within. 

As all new kings will, my prince had made his people a promise.When he was crowned, Achlys had sworn an oath before the people, declaring that he would secure peace for them at all costs. Maybe he even knew that the cost would be his own life.

When the rebels broke into the palace, he turned to me, a dagger in his hand and sorrow in his eyes. "I won't fight them," he declared. "I cannot."

I could only nod, fighting back my tears.

"They'll tear me apart if they catch me," he whispered, his voice shaking a little. Even princes feel fear, after all. "Please, Tsillah. I need you to kill me."

Like a coward, I refused. His eyes begged me to do it.

"I know that you will make it quick. They will not. Please."

Now I was trembling. My hands shook as I took the knife, and my breath rattled in my lungs.

When the rebels came to our sanctuary, they discovered me standing over the lifeless body of the man I loved, his blood permanently staining the floor.

For my act, the rebels crowned me queen. I had the most legitimate claim to the throne, and I had proven myself to them with one act.

The country prospered under my reign, thanks to Achlys. His willingness to do what needed to be done meant that the countries around us feared our military. Even bands of marauders avoided our nation, as any man they encountered knew how to defend himselves ruthlessly, much the same way the bandits themselves fought. 

They see me as a hero, but I know better. I am no hero and he was not a villain. Not all princes are charming, not all villains are evil. Not all heroes are good. Most of all, not all princesses get happy endings.

 Edit: Forgot to say, but the credit for this story goes to my fellow Scribbler, Alice Salvage.