He was a multitude of things. Heart? He had none, he knew not the meaning of the crimson organ that throbbed in the body of a mortal. Ah, but that was the catch was it not? He was no mortal, he could not be described, but he was no mortal. Emotion, if he had any, they were locked away, deep in the recesses of his rotten, rotten mind. But, suprisingly, for all of his heartlessness, he had a daughter. Loved her? Possibly, possibly, there was no way to know. Zmiji was her name, fondly he called her by it, a gentle caress upon the cheek, perhaps that was his show of love, otherwise, he was cruel. At the moment he watched his daughter, unaware of her father's evil, playing delightedly with her various pets that she requested, sticking her beautiful lower lip out in a pout as she gazed up at him with shining eyes. You really couldn't call her spoiled, she never asked for much, but when she did, it when straight to your heart, that is, if you had one. In his room he looked out over the shining city, give it time and all would be his, the wonderful city of Reajh, and then the whole kingdom itself, at his fingertips. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, what a wonderful, wonderful notion. He watched his daughter play and for an instant something flickered across his eyes, then was gone just as quickly as it came. Getting up he summoned a servant, murmered quiet instructions into her ear then left to his study, his steps ringing out in the hallway. He had work to do. Thin bloodless lips stretched into a smile, something they had not done in years. Plenty and plenty of work to do.
