The Rise of the Demon King's Consort

The Child Unborn made its way back into the tower. It waited in anticipation as Paris made his way back up the stairs, panting and shaking from the effort. When finally making it up the last step, he remained on hands and knees, just breathing, trying to regain his breath. Sakias had returned too, upset and shaking in his boots over just having witnessed the wrath of a demon far mightier than himself.

“Such courage…” he heard Thyrion whisper, “such a frail body and such a courageous soul. You were simply defending my honour” he swallowed, thinking of the past.

“All I ever wanted, my Lord, was to feel safe in your arms and give birth to your children” Paris said, coughing. The crisp air was like knives in his lungs, “I trusted you with my very soul—“

“—I was possessed—“

“—only influenced. Biased, spending far too much time in court with all of those false princes and their familiars, scheming, corrupting—“

“—I was possessed I tell you—“

“—you’re a demon lord yourself, you know possessions from every angle! No, my Lord, you grew weary with me, and you sent me away, blaming me for putting you in a foul mood—“ Paris said, catching his breath. There was a burning fire in his cheeks which Thyrion hadn’t seen in a long time. He feared the next words that might come out of Paris’ mouth. He saw the accusation mirroring in Paris’ tearfilled eyes.

“I granted her an audience. Her soul was but a torn cloth of anguish, for she had been attacked by soul-eaters, and they’d torn her once lovely legs to shreds. Not even then, in secrecy, did I have eyes for anything but you, Lord. I saw you, I ate, slept, smelled and dreamt only of you. Not even she, my Spartan love, could tear me off the path that was you. She begged, reminding me of the love we once shared, but I told her to leave, for my heart belonged to another. To you. And I told her that I was happy and content” Paris whispered, “content? She said to me, you live as a harem slave, bewitched by a demon lord, you live in a nightmare, how can you possibly be happy? Our love lasts forever, she said, this, all of this you see is a sham!” Paris sobbed, looking up to face Thyrion.

Thyrion could but stare at Paris, sensing that they were at a turning point. He felt sick to his bones, just wanting to get over to his slave and hold him, shake some sense into his head.

“I once gave you my soul. I gave it to you out of my own free will, and by that I still stand. I cannot escape your domination for all eternity, which I have accepted a long time ago. But know that I take no pleasure in pleasing you anymore. Possessed or not, your touch sickens me, knowing that your hands forever are drenched with the blood of my dead child” Paris was staring down at the floorboards. His words were crisp and precise. No madness clouded his mind. It was all too clear. “When I conceive the child that should have been, I shall rejoice, knowing it will be your death. Only then shall I take pleasure in serving you, knowing that with each passing day, I slip out of your grasp a little more. And may the gods have mercy upon me and strike me down with lightning once I have given birth so I will not have to watch him shed his baby skin and grow into a capable demon all at once. May the human blood in him keep the demon in him at bay and steady his hands. I do not wish to know of the malice I will be responsible for letting into this world. I do not want to stand helpless by and watch him make friends with my worst enemies, like you did.”

The light of the golden child flickered above their heads. It had trouble comprehending what it was hearing. What did it all mean? Would he not be loved? Would he not be able to reside inside his father for nine months of absolute bliss? Why did his father fear him so? What wrong had he done to the Childbearer? Wasn’t his father going to be there for him once he was born?

He watched Paris turn and get over to his sleeping space. The golden child turned to Sakias, but Sakias had already left out through the window, his call for his brother Saieros like a whisper on the wind. Thyrion remained still for a very long time, his face dissolved in tears. They fell to the floor, turning into gold as they made contact with the wood. He looked to Paris, but the Trojan had curled up underneath a fur with his back against Thyrion. An obvious cold shoulder.

This was bad, the golden child decided. He turned to look down at Thyrion, who was slowly withdrawing to the wall, not bothering to hide his sobbing. What was the point? The effort of moving was obviously painful. His sore limbs, the gravity pulling him to the floor made every little move cumbersome, and the wounds in his back where his wingbones had been attached, still ached heavily. All that was, however, without meaning. For all that mattered, was to get back inside his Trojan father. The golden child wished for it, and a moment later he found himself inside his demon father’s body, struggling to harness and restrain the writhing body, to make it do what he wanted.

Paris sat up, startled by Thyrion’s screams, instantly knowing what was happening. The demon wrestled with himself, writhing in spasms on the floor as he tried to regain control of his limbs. But the child was so much stronger, and soon Thyrion found himself hurling himself towards Paris, only to be halted by the chain to the collar around his neck. His mouth frothed and his eyes rolled aimlessly around as he felt his arms reach for the chain, pulling at it vehemently. The Golden Child stimulated the vocal chords, moving the jaw, helping it shape the words, making the former Demon King speak in the same tone as if Thyrion had been a deaf person.

“I am coming for you know, daddy”.