Good Evening my beautiful Earthling, I am Crown Prince Lotor Lessatt.
Perhaps some of you know me better as the Prince of Higher Hell or Prince of Darkness. No?
What is in a name? No name can truly capture the essence of a person or their very soul.

I welcome you to my site. Do you know where you are?
Do you understand what compelling thought led you to venture into my dungeon?
First, you may wonder why such a page exists. Why, you ask? Why not? In time, the others will get their
chances to prove their worth to you, this is my spell. Ahh, but you are not here for them.
You are here for more important things. Me, perhaps?

If it is me you can't get enough of, I urge you to visit Tammysan and see my Royal Harem.
Perhaps you would like to join them? It is an experience you will not soon forget.

So, what should you like to know first? My past? My future?
I have nothing to hide; the question is whether or not you do?
Will you escape from my dungeon knowing any more than when you entered?
Will you understand how far a man will go not to be alone?
How much a man will sacrifice morally in order to attain his definition of magnificence?
Such is the nature of dependency and love.

I see you are still here.
Perhaps you do, after all, seek a glimpse of my life.

I have been told my countenance is one of great beauty.
Even though my rich, blue skin and silken, white hair haunt your dreams
you need a reminder, don't you? The most haunting face is one which
is only partly remembered or one which is only ever half seen, a
reflection in a window or through the haze of fire.
These are faces you long to remember, such as mine.
Many have tried to capture my anima with their pen, but a small few have succeeded.

My beautiful slave Samara has captured my likeness here.
Exquisite work, eh?
Artist Jonathon Earl Bowser has arrested the beauty of my love
And artist Nick Zuccarello caught my features in a work of his own.

I am a prince among prince's.
Many call me selfish and egotistical,
but I am only a man who believes there is nothing
in the world worth dying for. Nothing except, a woman.
You know her name, or perhaps you are one who has never stumbled
upon the writings of my scribes.
If so, I urge you to visit their homes and become acquainted with their stories.

So let's move on, my friend...I want you to meet my love.
Should I romanticize what I did to her on our first meeting?
That timeless second in her dead garden…..
Perhaps, but as I look back on that moment I am sickened.

If my story differs from what you have read in Lady Chani's account of our meeting,
then that is only because she is slow to write the truth. She will in time.

The news of my victories in the Eastern Universe had finally caught
the attention of my father. Now, he had decided, was time to call me home.
It was in this year of my 22nd sun,
that I met the only person in the known universe who could make me writhe.
And in return, I tormented her because she was some one I could make suffer for my suffering.
Maybe I had hoped she would take part in the ecstasy of grief as I did.
Passion rules us and we obey; what other choice do we have?

Are you aware, Earthling, that the meaning of passion is suffering?
Passion never reasons.

 

It was the night after the King of Arus met my father's sword that I first saw her.
My father had already begun to occupy the planet and it was easy for me to stop by unannounced.
I had been watching her from long distances for hours before we finally met,
but never really saw her. The surviving men from her small army surrounded her like one
would a precious jewel. But I could see she carried a summer fire in her hair.
Her long golden tresses swept her curved bottom like lover's fingertips and her sweet lips frowned,
lips that carried a luster of wetness. Wet from her tears.

What a prize for my father this would be! Her death!
As easy as it would be for anyone else to do,
I wanted it for myself.
I wished nothing more than to be her God, her giver of life and death.
I wanted to present my father with her head when I returned to my home.
However small a job it would be,
I knew it would please him. The temptation was unbearable.
How I wanted to take her delicate neck in my hands and slowly snap it!
I could only imagine the feel of her soft warm flesh
against my warriors hands. I imagined my knife would slip into
her throat as if cutting warm butter. I moved closer.
So close I was able to smell her sweet scent.
A scent that has haunted me ever since.

Her pitiable sobs filled the night sky as she mourned for
her dead father. Ahh, I can hear them even now.
How touching they were as she fell in a heap on the floor of
her dead garden, once again, her beauty hidden by her golden main.
Oh, how I would enjoy this!
I would take her differently. Yes, slowly.
I thought I would enjoy holding this one in my arms as her life's blood flowed from her.

The thoughts of deaths long past rushed to me and caused almost a drunken feeling.
I enjoyed this.

Why do you cry, beautiful one?
I asked her not in words, but in thought.
The process is quite simple actually, anyone can do it if their focus is correct.
But this is not a lesson speech, is it?

Immediately, she lifted her head, but turned her gaze away from me.
"Who's there!" she cried wildly, only now exposing the small dagger she clenched tightly in one hand.
Of course, she did not see me.

The irony of it made me laugh!

You called for me, little one… now do you refuse me?

She dropped the golden and jeweled dagger to the floor and stood motionless.
Now she was looking straight at me. It was almost a sexual pleasure to see her so helpless.
Her scent was intoxicating me, now was the time.

In one swift movement I grasped her waist and pulled her in to my hungry arms,
my gesture gentle as not to break her fragile bones.
But she was quicker than I had anticipated. She fell to the ground to retrieve her lost weapon,
but succeeded in nothing but slamming her head into the balcony railing and
falling to the earth in a bloody heap.

How unfortunate this was! I wanted her fully aware, I wanted her to know the face of her God,
her Angel of Death. I swept her limp form into my arms and
pressed her tightly against the court yard wall. Instantly she began struggling.
Yes, struggle my beautiful Princess, I will love you more.

I buried my face in her blood streaked hair and whispered into her ear.
"Why do you struggle when only moments ago you attempted to take your own life?"
She only whimpered and pushed harder against my tall body.
I still wonder to this day why she never screamed.
I think she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

It was then that took her bloodied face in my hands and tilted her head so she could see me.
Her eyes were wide and confused, red from her tears. But, I knew that face.
I knew it from the last moments in dreams before waking, from the dancing shadows beyond the fires…..
Every detail of her burned into my brain, the fine arched brows, the winters oceans
reflected in her blue eyes, and the lips. I wanted to kiss her candy lips.
And in that brief fatal moment, I had fallen hopelessly and helplessly in love.

Every fiber in my body screamed for me to plunge her own knife deep within her throat,
and if I had, things would be different now. Kill her! Now!
Something maddening had overcome me.
I took her knife and held it between my teeth, my personal kiss of death.

A terrible heat flooded my face as I held the jagged blade between my teeth to her throat.
She now pressed herself firm to the rampart, as if by luck she could become
one with it and be absolved of my menace. But, I already knew that I would not kill her.
Not tonight, at least.

I scraped the knife across her throat and she shivered.
A few drops of blood cascaded down her neck and across her bosom.
Every craft in my body seemed to scald with tender desire for her,
this sad little thing I held in my arms. She had given up her struggle
and the arms which once beat furiously at my back grasped me tightly,
not in passion, but in fear.

Arusian folklore says that death comes to those who long for it
in the form of a beautiful lover. Perhaps that is what she saw in me,
for now her resistance was gone and she began to melt small and wonderful
within a glorious peace into my arms. She became eternally desirable to me.
I could feel her softness, her beauty, passing into my blood like poison.
I had to leave her now or I would go mad!

Her head fell back into my hands and she grasped my arms.
Do you live or die?

"I die," she whispered. My breathing had become unsteady.
Break her neck! Give her what she wants!
But I could not let her go that easily. I wanted something from her, too.
What it was at that moment I did not know, but she was its keeper, of that much I was sure.

I laid a gentle kiss across her wet lips, her tears flowed freely,
and then gently laid her on the floor of her burnt garden. I didn't want to leave her!
When she would open her eyes and see her bloodied hands, for her knife sliced through her
skin as I took it from my teeth, she would be frightened and for the first time in my life
I wanted to protect her from that.

Because she was not like me, because she was simple and young,
defenseless and beautiful, how could I be other than her protector?

I ran into the night followed by her terrifying shrieks. Gods above, how she screamed!
I left Arus, I left her galaxy. I delayed my return to father to roam the universe alone.
In a single night I had become a weak, powerless man who could not get
one small woman out of his soul.

 

The next time I saw her beauty she had become a different woman.
It had only been two earth months at the most, but the face that once held such sorrow
now surrendered to pride and happiness.
She has the most beautiful laughter in the universe.

Now, surrounded by four men, she stands strong and tall and I,
who once held her small life between my teeth, am lost.

Her love was mine in past lives, and will soon be mine again,
nothing will separate us this time. Nothing and no one, mortal or immortal.
In rare moments of weakness she has come to me,
this woman who I first wanted to see grovel at my feet as a
slave who I now wish to serve me as my Queen.

Once she asked, "Where do the strong go to be weak?"

My arms.