“Son, I haven’t told you about how our world came to be yet, have I?”
A young man, no older than twenty, sat in a rocking chair holding a bundle of blankets. Surrounding him was what one would expect in a nursery in the 1600’s. Crib and a bassinet, as well as both wooden and cotton toys. Sporting a clean-shaven face, with blue eyes and short blond hair to boot, he softly spoke to the newborn swaddled in the bundle.
“In the beginning, there was nothing but a clock. The clock would tick and a moment would pass. Then it would repeat. This would happen unceasingly for millennia.
“This was not a static ticking, however. As each tick passed, the next would come faster. Given the unceasing nature of this clock, it was inevitable that the ticks would overlap. And one day, they did. That day, son, is referred to as The Day of Birth.
“And at The Day of Birth, when one moment equaled the next, an anomaly happened. Rather than the collapse of time itself, everything restarted. But there was no longer just a clock. Now, there were deities as well. 12 of them, each a representative of one of the hours found on the clock. These deities, though they were not created by the clock itself, knew that under time their power meant nothing. Time would always tick away, uncaringly and unceasingly, as it always had.”
Arms getting tired, the young man shifted the baby into a different, more comfortable position. After taking a drink from the mug by his side, he continued.
“These deities were different from time. They could not stand to act as the clock did and simply exist alongside time. They needed to justify their reason for existence. For a while the clock was the whole of time, they were each merely one-twelfth of it.
“Their restlessness began the Age of Celebration. It was an age where each of the twelve competed to determine who was the truest representation of time itself. Yet they never expected how they would balance one another out.
“See, son, each deity embodies the purest form of a power. At the 12 o’clock position lie Nostrum, the Psychic. He embodied true mental prowess, having as stable a mind as an ability to affect the thoughts of another. Yet, for all his mental prowess, he possessed a frail body. Opposite of Nostrum, where the 6 would be, lay Hemus of the Blood. While his control of blood arts gave him immense physical prowess, his mental faculties left much to be desired. He was a being driven almost purely by instinct. When the Age of Celebration ended, they each had won half of their competitions.
“The same applied to Illuma of the Light and Lailah, the Dark. While each was the truest and most powerful representation of light and dark in all the land, they couldn’t help but draw. For darkness will always exist wherever light shines and conversely, without light darkness ceases to exist.”
Again, the young man adjusted the bundle in his arms. But when he reached to take another swig from his mug, he realized it was drained. With a quick glance at the clock, he noticed that it was getting to be late. Smiling, he gave the baby in his arms a tickle and a quick kiss on the forehead.
“My little prince, you should’ve told me it was so late! Bah, and I was just getting into it too. I didn’t even get to describe the competitions they had and how they eventually - whoops, wouldn’t want to spoil it for you now, would I? Well, regardless, it is about time I put you to sleep. I can already see your little eyelids struggling to stay awake.”
The young man stood and walked a couple steps from the rocking chair to place the baby in its silk-lined, velvet covered bassinet.
“Only the best for my little prince, of course. I won’t have you wanting for a thing.”
After setting the baby down and tucking it in, and with one final kiss to the forehead, he walked to the room’s door. Right before opening it, his face instantly took on a hardened visage.
Closing the door softly behind him, he completely ignored the two armor-clad guards stationed there and made his way down the hallway.
On his left were portraits of his ancestors. They were clad in a multitude of colors, all but one based on their elemental affinity. For regardless of the magic they commanded and the Deity they fell under the purview of, every member of the Fisk bloodline would don the purple of royalty.
On his right were the many evolutions of the Fisk coat of arms. Generations ago, when they were first given land, it was a simple family crest that displayed a hoe superimposed over a fish. As the line distinguished itself, through political dealings, military accomplishments, and arranged marriages, it eventually matured into a full-fledged coat of arms.
In the center was a gallant purple shield, and it was flanked by a fictional fishman guard to the left and a cannon to the right. Each quadrant represented the qualities the Fisk family had eventually come to be known by. In the top left was a dragon head representing valor. In the top right, an oak tree representing the longevity and strength of the line.
The bottom left contained no image, but consisted of a checkered pattern of purple and, in this most recent incarnation, black. This would change as a new family head was named, and represented his source of power. The bottom right was the deific emblem of Lailah, the Dark, the right side of a nose with a closed eye.
Atop the entire image was a golden crown embossed with 13 gems. Two each of red, green, yellow, and blue. One each of white, silver, black, and crimson. And a final one that stood above all the others, one of purple. Because for those of the Fisk bloodline, the bloodline reigned supreme over all other ties.
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The young man and his hard face walked past these without even a cursory glance. A more detailed investigation would uncover that both the portraits and the coats of arms were newly placed and possessed slight blemishes around the edges.
Reaching the end of the hallway, the young man opened the final door. Inside was a woman around the same age as the young man, but she was gagged and bound by her arms and legs to what looked to be an operating table. The bindings glowed dark silver, seemingly taking on the abilities of darkness and psychic at the same time. The moment the young man opened the door, the young woman’s face took on a look of pure horror, and she began shaking uncontrollably. The young man’s face remained impassive.
“Darling, darling, darling. What have I ever done in this world besides love you? I gave you everything you could ever want. When we were children, I didn’t let the other kids bully you. When we were going through seminary, I aided you in lessons. After graduation, I took you as my wife. I agree it was a rough start, but I truly believed that that hardship only made us stronger. Tabitha, I killed senselessly for you, because that is how much I love you. Now, I sit here as the King. And you, well… you could have been my queen. But even that wasn’t good enough for you.”
The more he spoke, the harsher the young man’s face grew. But at the end, the hatred that laced his features disappeared. All that was left was a look of disappointment and, if one looked closely enough, a hint of pain. He motioned with his arm and a trap door opened. Out emerged a figure cloaked in black dragging a badly beaten man no more than five years older than the two up.
“Inform your Queen how her plan faired, filth.”
Immediately tears began falling from the man’s eyes. “Tabby I-”
The young man immediately backhanded the man. “How DARE you refer to your Queen by her nickname. To have the gall to even think you are worthy.” He turned to the woman on the bed. “This is the type of person you employ then, Tabitha? Someone rendered insensible in the ways of things after a little seduction? Pathetic. Filth, tell her. My patience wears thin.”
The man spit out a globule of blood mixed with tears before speaking once again. “My Queen, I snuck in through the route you outlined, but the moment I entered the hallway to the King’s room my entire body seized up. I know you said to be mindful of his command over darkness, but I was not good enough. I have failed you.”
“This, my Queen, is what happens when you scheme against the only person that has supported you your entire life.”
The room suddenly darkened as the young man’s aura increased exponentially. It rose and rose until it reached a peak, then, it suddenly vanished. With not a single sound or movement from the young man, the beaten and bruised figure slumped over. Dead.
“Yet another piece of filth who has to pay for your follies. But I will not allow it anymore. My love for you can only go so far. And while getting rid of you now and blaming it on the birth of our child would save me many headaches down the line, your light attunement is far too valuable for you to be a simple corpse. Reginald!”
The black cloaked figure appeared once more. “Yes, my liege.”
“You will imprint a geas upon her. No longer shall she have these compulsions to turn against me. No longer shall she covet that which is not hers. No longer will she search for pleasure outside of that which her family can give. Also, make it so that whenever she feels these urges, it will redirect into a general worry for our son. No, our children. Ronald shall be but one of many.”
The black cloaked figure moved closer, but before could begin the young man stopped him.
“Wait, I want to hear her last words as herself. Even now, for all she’s done, I can’t help but love her. Remove her gag.”
The moment the gag was removed, Tabitha began spewing words.
“Wait, Ronald, we can talk about this! You know I love you! I would never send someone to kill you that could actually succeed at it! Please, Ronald! Those we have affairs with must be killed! This isn’t new! I don’t need a geas! I can be better! Please, Ronald, I can behave myself! I love you, Ronald, more than anything! Please don’t do this! Please!”
“ENOUGH!”
Tabitha immediately cowed to Ronald's outburst,
“How dare you say we! Since the moment I grew old enough to see you as a woman I’ve never, not even for a second, thought about another. I’ve given you plenty of chances to be better. To develop even a modicum of empathy. To stop these petty schemes and pleasure-seeking follies. But you won’t listen. And now that I am King, I cannot allow it from my Queen. I am Ronald Leviathan Fisk IV and by my blood, I would sooner strike at my own stomach before facing the kinds of disgrace you wish upon me.
“Regardless, you will not remember this, so I shall cease speaking. Reginald, take care of this. Send her to our room once the geas has stabilized. And take your time. I need her mind to work just as well as ever. My Queen will be more than a beautiful face at my side.”
The young man, King Ronald Fisk IV, left the room amid the screams of his wife and the mother of his child. While she would never entirely be Tabitha again, Ronald comforted himself with the knowledge that she would be a better person after this. And while repeated geas applications damaged the mind of those it was applied to, her light attunement would ensure that she would be very old before the effects would show.
Besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to. The kingdom, for one, but the planning for his son’s first day of celebration, which was still months away, would need to be handled ahead of time. There were only twelve, after all.
---
Unbeknownst to the entire castle, the newborn was awake the whole time. Not only was he actively listening to the story his father was telling him, but he was profoundly thinking the entire time.
“It really isn’t fair that this is a completely new language. That was probably some useful exposition. Oh well, as long as I pay attention, I should be able to pick up the language pretty quickly.”
The moment his father left, he got to work on freeing his limbs from the tightly wrapped blankets. While it took some time, he eventually got free from the swaddling. The baby immediately began wiggling its arms and legs as if it were a cockroach laying on its back.
“Unwieldy, but definitely on par with those novels I read before. While I’ve got to make sure I don’t overwork and end up hurting myself, I can definitely make sure I grow to be flexible and strong if I do some basic bodyweight from a very young age. Oh! Also, I can...”
Yes, this newborn had the thoughts of a grown human. Yes, this newborn is a reincarnated person. And finally, yes, the main character of this tale is reincarnated baby Ronald and not King Ronald Leviathan Fisk IV.