The Rise of the Demon King's Consort

He gently touched Paris’ foot. When the prince didn’t seem to mind, he let his hand slide upwards, until Thyrion finally found the courage to turn around and face Paris who still sat behind him. He met his eye, before Paris lowered his gaze respectfully.

“You used to meet my gaze at every occasion, just to prove to me that you were worthy, my equal…” Thyrion whispered, closing his eyes, smelling Paris’ breath.

“I’m—“ Paris stuttered, immediately withdrawing, “—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend—“but then his words faltered, and Thyrion watched in despair as Paris retreated, wrapping himself up in his furs and huddling on his spot by the wall, his back against the king.

“I’m trying to make our last days together matter, Paris of Troy, I’m trying to make things right here! But you let yourself go astray in your manic head. You’re not listening to my words. It wasn’t an accusation. You didn’t do anything wrong. I – I miss the old you…!” Thyrion said with a lump in his throat, his heart shattered over Paris’ sudden rejection. He watched as Paris was sighing, obviously ignoring his words, watched him move towards Sakias. His horror grew as he saw Paris kneel before Sakias, unfolding the fur covering his naked skin.

“Please have me” Paris begged Sakias. “Please take me, take me hard and brutal until I lose consciousness so that I won’t have to remember the past and be so angry at my king. Please, have me!” Paris grovelled before his demon son, again forgetting the relationship. Sakias sighed, eyeing Thyrion before he replied:

“Why?!” Thyrion sobbed accusingly, “why still, Paris?! I have admitted my sin, I made a mistake, a grave one! I apologized to you! Why can’t—!”

“—Please, don’t listen to him, he’s so angry! Don’t let him near me, please!!” Paris sobbed and begged to Sakias, “I don’t want to lose another child, please!”

Over their heads, the golden sphere stirred.

“—he’s a traitor to his own family, he did not just kill me that day, he killed our child. On a whim, an accusation based on a rumour. I trusted him with my life, endured the torments and the horrors, the torture chambers servicing him during his breaks from tormenting the lost and the wicked...”

“—I was possessed! It was Lucifer all along! I could not see clearly—“ Thyrion stopped speaking. The very blood froze in his veins as he watched Paris blink, then turn his head to gaze at Thyrion with clear brown eyes. “Mesthaphus—” Thyrion began. He was cut short to see Paris’ brown eyes turn to fire, and the young prince then bolted out past Sakias, down the stairs and into the darkness of the construction site. Thyrion strained his neck to get to him in time, just missing his arm, and as he did, the golden sphere came alive, bolting out after him.

Paris ran outside, naked, his breath freezing in the cold. His feet burned from the contact with the snow, but he didn’t care. Sakias too, came flying out the window, leaving behing Thyrion, who struggled and pulled at the chain, trying to get free. He froze as he heard Paris shout:

“Lucifer! I call upon Thee! Lord of the Eight Plane! Show Thy Self!!” Paris called out into the darkness, across the treetops, to the icy moon above.

The world shifted. The very air turned some degrees warmer and the moon turned red. From the bowels of the Earth came Lucifer himself, grinning triumphantly from ear to ear, clad in nothing but nocturnal light, the snow on his bone wings glittering like emeralds. His blonde hair was a golden halo around his sculpted features, and the angelic creature unfolded his arms, welcoming Paris. Only Sakias matched the Demon Lord of the Eight Plane with his height, and the half demon landed to stand next to his human father ready to snatch him and fly away into the night if Lucifer tried anything.

“A curse on you, Lucifer! May the gods in the heavens above and Hades beneath my feet hear me now! I curse you, Lucifer! I promise you this: At World’s End, when the heavens crash and the gods fall dead to the face of this Earth, and the Gates of all of the Hells are flooded, and the souls of the dead come to cast judgment on all of us, god, demon and mortal alike, it shall be MY KIN and all their familiars, who will endure. With Hell on Earth unleashed, my Treasure Child, mine!, shall be riding the command chariot, not you! And as you burn, the last thing you see will be ME holding the torch to your pyre!”

Lucifer roared in dismay. “You turned downe the Lord’s Proposal and Now Ye’ve paide The Price. I told Ye: Refraine from My Offer, and spende Eternity in Misery. The Golden Childe though, I did not consider Its Powers”.

“I chose to stay loyal to my king! You should have respected that!” Paris spat, his voice echoing throughout the hills.

“And what Loyalty!” Lucifer chuckled, “Look where it got Ye!”

“Curse you! A thousand times curse!”

“My Offer still stands: Be Mine, My Temple, and Thou shalt know Happiness and Riches. Endorseth upon Me a Thousand Treasure Children to rule the Earth and the Hells in My Name, and Thou shalt never lacke Anything. All You Need to do, is to lay downe Here, right Now, and spread Yer legs. Yer soul shalt be a most Pleasant Desert.”

“And I decline you a thousand times!”

“May the Demon Blood which Runs in Yer Children’s Veins Forever be on Fire! May They Forever have Greed and Hunger in Their Veins, and be They Forever Cursed with Yer Misery” Lucifer growled, “The Hells shall shun them, The Gates Forever be Closed and May the gods above despise them.” Lucifer began to stomp with one foot into the ground, chanting: “May They Rape Their Lovers, Lay withe Their Fathers and cut the Breasts of Their Women—“

“Begone, Foul Creature, I command you! Be cursed and May you be caged on the Eight Plane forever!” Paris screamed in rage, watching as Lucifer obliterated into nothing, leaving only the dark, icy night and Paris with Sakias standing by his side.

Up inside the castle, Thyrion lay sprawled on the floor, tears flooding his cheeks. He’d stopped fighting the chain, and his left hand lay limp where he’d dropped it when he decided to stop pulling, not able to get loose. He stared into the ceiling, the room covered in darkness around him. His golden eyes followed the floating images which took form in the quirks and shapes of the wood in the boards. He saw a fortress. A city. Jehrusalev, or something like that, he wasn’t sure how to pronounce it as the words in his head coming to him from across time were only a whisper. He saw soldiers throwing infants from the city walls. Underneath a Dade tree, he saw a man in rags struggling to free himself from the chains holding him to the ground. He was crying to the walls, begging them to stop throwing the children down to their deaths. As he turned for a minute, Thyrion saw the sun reflect in his golden eyes, saw malice and despair grow in those beautiful, nutshelved-shaped eyes. The children. Thyrion looked closer. His brothers or his sons. Hundreds of them. All crying, some not more than days old, cast down onto the sharp rocks several metres below. A possible future. The Thyrion shook his head, wanted to see no more of the mayhem. He felt it in his very bones - they were of his kin! Another image appeared of another young man, a man with a set jaw, clad in foreign clothes. A soul running from a ghost-eater. Then a Treasure Child, a really weird and powerful one came to his aid, forming a gate into his own body, taking the soul inside to avoid the souleater. Giving his body away willingly! What manner of Treasure Child could be willing to do such a thing? Keep a weather eye on the horizon, it sang in the mind of Thyrion. The images shifted, and he watched the same Treasure Child with a big belly, falling to his knees by a camp fire, gritting his teeth in pain, baring his stomach, watching as a wound opened from the inside, and a pair of hands came out, tearing the gap open wide. The Treasure Child was singing a survival spell while a grown man crawled his way out of his belly. When finally out, the man, his dark curly hair and his body was covered in red blood and fluids, lay sprawled on the grass, gasping and coughing for air. He turned his head upwards, arching his neck, gazing a woman sitting before him. His love. His wife. A swann. Reborn again. By a Treasure child. Another possible future.