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Crack.
Bad's ears prick, the small sound somehow thunderous as it echoes above the scratching of his quill and crackle of the fire. He takes a deep breath as he stills, his tail going rigid and all his hair standing on end as he strains to listen for the sound again.
Surely not, though, right? It was probably just the fireplace crackling or his quill scratching the surface of the parchment, not, well, it can't possibly be that, because that isn't supposed to be happening for another two days.
Bad shakes himself off, swallowing and glancing toward the half-open door in the back of his study. He's just on edge because of the date is all, probably, this is in no way significant or anything to worry about, and he's just overthinking everything. Again.
He turns back to his paperwork with a sigh, trying to ignore the half-open door behind him. Bad doesn't have time to worry about that, he's a king, he has to worry about strategic grain imports and directing extra resources to certain towns and making sure the law is being fairly upheld, he has important things to do.
Bad can't seem to focus, though, and this time it's not even related to the scars on his hand, his thoughts are instead constantly drawn back to the door behind him, his claws itching to grab the thick, worn book of prophecies beside him, his eyes constantly flitting to the star maps and divine readings across the ceiling of his study, of everything that this could possibly mean.
He taps his claws on the desk a few times before writing another word on his parchment, trying to force himself to focus, even pulling his wings over his head. There's another crackling noise and he stiffens, but that was probably just the fire, because it didn't sound anything like…
Bad scoots back from his desk, the rough sound of his chair on the floor startling him a little as he takes a deep breath and stands. He stalks across the room to the door, and refuses to look inside it while he carefully shuts it with a thump, his claws clicking as he makes his way back to his desk, shooting a glance at the clock hanging above the fireplace. It's only two hours until midnight, and the process can last as long as an entire day, which means this is probably nothing to worry about.
Just two hours. Bad tells himself, taking a deep breath as he slowly sits back down at his desk, his hair standing on end when the fireplace crackles. He looks longingly at the tomes and scrolls of history around him before he lets out a breath and continues with his paperwork. No use worrying about something that won't happen, right? He might as well try not to think about it, because this is not happening.
Crack.
Bad lets out a sharp breath and pulls his wings tighter around himself, trying, desperately to focus, but when he hears another soft crack, followed by a tiny scraaaaaape, behind him he sighs and gives up, tossing his chair back as he stands and lashes his tail a few times, then reaches for the nearest prophecy scroll and stalks to the door.
This can't be happening. Bad tells himself as he takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, glancing inside. It can't be happening.
The room beside his study, and beside his own personal chambers, is bathed in silvery moonlight, streaming in from the open window along with the faintest hint of the garden flowers and the smell of this morning's misty rain, although despite that it's still warm. Bad slips inside, shutting and locking the door behind him, his claws crinkling the surface of the parchment scroll in his hands.
He lets out a breath and slowly sinks to his knees, staring at the carefully constructed nest in the center of the royal hatchery, looking between the soft strips of fabric and warm bedding until he spots the trembling shape of a pale white egg, one that nearly glows in the moonlight.
"No," Bad whispers, staring at it with his mouth dry, before he shakes his head a few times and looks down at the scroll he's holding. Maybe he misjudged the dates, maybe he read them wrong and they're already past that, maybe this is nothing to worry about and he'll be able to welcome his prince into the world with no issues or anxiety or…
Curse.
The parchment falls away from his talons like a waterfall and Bad has to scramble to catch it, frantically paging through the scroll as he searches, desperately, for the dates written down in blood-red ink, all those millennia ago, by the ancient prophets and scholars that foretold the birth of the cursed prince. His claws slide over each date, of which there are many, some years with none and some with too many, days upon days that the cursed prince could be born.
He swallows as his claws brush past one date, over two decades ago, and squeezes his eyes shut, hands trembling as he tries not to remember that day, tries not to remember all the days immediately afterward, tries not to remember the screaming and sobbing, the blood, the retribution, the lying and secrets and everything he was forced to do to save his kingdom.
Even so… it still hangs in his head, in a way he'll never be able to remove.
"Why!?" Sapnap is sobbing, clawing at Bad desperately as he fights to get away from his own father. His tail, still blunt and useless in young adulthood, swings up to jab uselessly at Bad's chest as he tries to defend himself. "WHY!?"
"I'm sorry!" Bad bursts out, digging his claws in harder and pinning Sapnap by his horns with his other hand, feeling tears build in the back of his throat. His claws rest against his son's ribcage and Bad can feel the beating of the fire-filled heart beneath his skin. "I'm sorry!"
He doesn't know how to explain it, to explain the prophecies from long ago, to explain the sickened feeling he'd felt on Sapnap's hatching day, when the world was given the third of it's destroyer, when a cursed prince was born.
"I can be good!" Sapnap cries, attempting to throw Bad off him, collapsing when Bad beats his wing into his son's head to get him to stop. "I promise! I don't wanna hurt anyone! I'm not gonna end the world! Let go of me!"
"I tried to save you!" Bad responds, still fighting the tears inside his throat at Sapnap's sobs. "I don't want to do this!"
He did try, he tried as hard as he could to keep Sapnap away, to stop him from learning of his destiny, to keep his son safe inside the demon palace where he couldn't even find the prophecied others, where he couldn't become a risk to himself or to the rest of the kingdom.
No one had known of Sapnap's fate except Bad himself, but then Sapnap met the other Destroyers and Bad realized it was too late. His son's destiny had been sealed from the moment he pushed his horns through the shell of his egg and crawled into the cool morning air of the demon palace, but it took Bad too long to recognize Sapnap is dangerous.
"Please," Sapnap's voice falls to a whimpery sob, looking up at Bad with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Dad, please, I don't want to hurt anyone."
"That's not up to you anymore," Bad whispers, his breath coming in weak gasps as he remembers meeting his son's two 'best friends', remembers seeing the spark of darkness that passed between them at their meeting, knows of their fates, and knows what happens anymore. "This has to happen."
I just wish it wasn't us. He thinks, then swallows and looks into Sapnap's eyes, the hurt, scared orange chips of flame gleaming beneath watery tears and a terrified face, the look of him, of Bad's baby boy, of his son and his prophecied destroyer.
"I love you," Bad whispers, then takes a deep breath, raises one wing, and slams it into his son's head to knock him out before he crushes his claws into Sapnap's chest and deep into the flesh below, letting out an agonized scream as his son's boiling, demigod blood sears his skin. He reaches a talon out to grasp it around Sapnap's still beating heart and rips it out of his son's chest, tossing it across the bedroom.
His hand is burned, his son is dead, but at least the prophecy cannot be fulfilled anymore. His kingdom is safe.
Bad buries his face in his hands and wails.
He opens his eyes again, covering that date with his thumb and swallowing thickly when he sees the one below, when he sees today written in blood ink. He looks back at the egg in the nest, which is still trembling slightly, and takes a deep breath, trying to shake those awful thoughts out of his head.
Only two hours left. If he could somehow slow down the hatching, then he'll be in the clear.
Bad lunges for the egg, feeling the weak membrane and slight cracking, then the kicking of the tiny demonling attempting to escape the shell. Maybe if he holds it shut until midnight, prevents the hatching altogether, his kingdom will be saved.
He risks suffocating his son (and he knows it's a son, demons always know) doing that, though, risks killing the baby he's wanted for so long, the one he and Skeppy have been trying to have ever since Sapnap died, a prince for Bad to love, a baby he could adore, an heir to the demon throne. He already loves the baby beneath this shell, and he's not sure he could bear to lose this one again.
Maybe if I did it quickly? Bad wonders, sucking in a sharp breath and thinking of how easy it would be to simply wring the thing's neck as soon as it hatches. Maybe it'd hurt less that way.
He could also toss his son from the window, which leads directly out to the sea. No one would know, then, that the second prince had died. He could tell Skeppy their son was stillborn and the rest of the palace doesn't even know he was with egg in the first place, it would be easy to get rid of another prophecied destroyer before anyone knew one was born at-
The egg in Bad's claws shatters.
He gasps for breath, unwilling to look down, unwilling to make eye contact with the next destroyer of his home, the next cursed prince, the next one who he'll have to kill to save his kingdom.
The baby in his hands chirrs softly and Bad instinctually looks down at him, his heart leaping into his throat at the sight. His new son, (Dapper, his mind whispers, because demons are born with their names and their parents always know) looks up at him with intelligent white eyes. He's a spitting image of Bad himself, although his fluffy baby hair is a light shade of blue, like Skeppy's horns in broad daylight, and to Bad's relief, Dapper looks nothing like-
He looks closer and shudders, violently, at the sight of his son's button horns, which are flame red.
No. No. This is not happening again, he is going to get rid of this one too before he can- before- before-
Bad's hands come up to rest on his son's head, and on his chest, and he swallows and takes a deep breath, preparing himself. It's just like killing chickens, he tells himself, just twist his hands and the curse will be gone. No more prophecy. No more babies. No more hurt.
Before he can wring his son's neck, though, Dapper bursts into flames.
Bad screams and drops him into the nest, watching as blue soul fire erupts from the skin of his son, bursts out into the room and burns Bad's hands, his palms instantly aching from the feeling. He stares, horrified, as the fire bursts higher, wrapping Dapper in flames, although the little demon just coos and wriggles happily.
Dad. Sapnap's voice echoes in his mind and Bad cries out at that, looking into the flames and for a moment seeing his son staring back at him, the one he slaughtered with his own claws. Sapnap's face is filled with grief and determination and fury at what Bad did to him. Don't.
"I- Sapnap-" Bad starts, but Sapnap and the fire are gone as soon as they appear, Bad left with burned palms and a giggling baby in his nursery. He stares at Dapper for a long moment, swallowing weakly, before he's promptly jolted out of his shock by knocking at his office door and Skeppy's voice calling his name.
No. Bad thinks to himself, shaking his head and reaching for his son again, scooping him up into his arms and pulling him against his chest. Never again.
He'll find some other way to stop the prophecy, he has to, because he's never going to do what he did to Sapnap to this little demonling as well. Dapper is innocent, even if his destiny says otherwise, and he does not deserve harm for being what he is. Bad will find a way to save him, he knows he will, and he will not take the life of another of his brood.
"I promise I'll never hurt you," Bad whispers to Dapper, pressing his son against his chest with a weak sniffle. "Promise."
…as he stands, he gets the feeling that Sapnap will hold him to that.
Always.