I was not always called Kinslayer. Once, what seems an eternity ago, I was a prince. The second son of Grack, I was never destined to rule, nor was I fit for it. Smart, they said, but daft with people. I was okay with that. It was a happy life-- let Wralec rule. I am happy with book and horse.
It all went downhill when that woman came. Our mother died in the great war 10 years ago, and so when the Sorceress came to wed my father he gladly agreed. And in time, she enmeshed herself in the bonds of power, slowly drawing the reins of the kingdom away from Father. In his declining health, he could barely tell what was happening.
When at last we could bear no more, Wralec and I confronted Jessica in the Royal Bedroom. She lay an fell curse on Wralec and he attacked me, but I managed to subdue him without killing him. I turned on her, but her magic was too strong even for me. When I came to, I was in a prison cell. The story was, I'd been found in the throne room and Wralec was dead by my hand. Fratricide.
Jessica wanted to kill me, but even in his age and senility Father was fair and just. I was stripped of my title, my wealth, and my name, and exiled for life. I am only Kinslayer now. My heart is empty as I wander these lands, far away from home. Whatever foul befalls me here is nothing compared to what has come before.