Prince of Hell...

A/N: Warning: Things get incredibly dark at the end. 

"Altair Blackwood," The Prince tried out outside the door to Edwin's office. "Reina Blackwood, Tenebrae Blackwood." he liked the sound of it but remained perplexed. It was a big decision, but he was not a Snow.

He knocked on the door and stepped in when Edwin welcomed him inside. His face was gaunt and pale, his finger gripping his quil trembling. His mind on his bastard, on his sick bed. 

"I saw the sisters when I stepped in." The Prince said, finding a seat across his desk forged of oak. "I'm sure he's alright. Though I needn't tell you, he was poisoned. That much should have been obvious." 

Edwin grimaced. "I know… yet the assassin eludes us all." He looked up at the young man who seemed as charming as he was dangerous. "What is it you wanted?"

"The Sword of the King rides to Forwin." Altair had said. "Did you know this?" 

"I did."