To the Victor goes the Spoils/Continued

Author’s note: I own nothing! …and, I quoted Channard in here. Yes. Slightly dark and angsty! Must make up for it with SEX next time! Yes!
…um, all you normal people can pretend you didn’t see all this and read it now. Yeah, heh.

Elactrice panted, her head low. She was tired beyond tired, and the ache of the birth was slow to fade. But it was worth it. It had been worth every moment. The babe was snuggled to her breast, feeding with a hunger that promised future strength. His small hands clenched in little fists, and his brow furrowed as if deep in thought. His legs, where they rested against her arm, kicked in a mock parody of the deadly power that would later reside in them, if he lived…

She rose, weak as she was, and began her search for a safe place to lye low. If it had been a girl this would be unnecessary, but the father must not discover it was a boy. The dominant cenobites, the males who were strong enough to win queens would kill their male offspring. This guaranteed that the qualities that allowed them to win battles, would not one day rise against them, dethrone them, kill them. It hadn’t always been like this…

In Behemoths time as god of hell this child would have been a prize above all else, for they were mainly demons then, and cenobites still new. So few demons were male, competition was an impossibility. A joke, not so now.
Cenobites are made easily, and not all from humans. A demon could be forged into a cenobite with little trouble; all that was required was a docile human body to meld with. After all, that was how any cenobite was made, more or less.

A cold, bitter taste was in her mouth, and she was so weak… but there was no time. Hell’s Prince would remember her scent… trace it to her quarters; follow it from there until it lead him right to her. Her only hope, to gather with as many older and stronger queens as she could find, then disappear into their scents, and become untraceable. She smiled slightly, feeling arms around her as another queen helped her along. Her child gave a small cry and then was still, somehow able to tell that silence was now golden.

Her worst fear came then, a small rumble. She recognized it; she had heard it in full when he had claimed her. Shivering, she turned to face him.

…And was surprised and grateful to see it was not Topec at all. Exstapis looked down at her quietly. He rumbled again, and the queen who had stood at her side moved forward, showed him their child. His eyes looked down at the small form; half a smile curved his lips. Gently he snaked his head forward and nuzzled her, his eyes still on what was crying throatily in her arms.
A pain stung her, but she ignored it. It was emotional, not real, and not important. But how it hurt… seeing that that child was wanted, and knowing hers was… well, not. She snarled at herself, there was no time for this; Exstapis would not protect her, it would offend Topec. She turned to go on alone.

Her steps were heavy, her arms felt weak and her legs threatened to drop her. She clutched her son closer and continued. A soft rumble echoed around them, deeper than before. There was no mistake to be made this time, it was He. For a moment she tried to flee, but her legs wouldn’t move. Terror seized her by the throat and squeezed but still she was too weak, her legs trembled dangerously below her. The panic died as cold reality set in, it was already done.
Defeated her head dropped, her shoulders trembled. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. She looked to him; let him see what she held.

Zipe Topec walked forward, looked quietly down at his son. He watched the legs flail, heard his soft cries. His eyes lifted and met hers. Composed, empty, braced for what six months of weakness had given her to be taken, and never returned. He moved forward, and carefully laid his chin upon her trembling shoulder. She stiffened, stared at him as he gently ran his pins across her cheek. His eyes remained on hers. Slowly, not daring to believe, she relaxed, held the child out for him to take. He sighed, let his chin once more touch her shoulder, and pulled away. The baby remained in her arms.
He was not going to… she pulled her baby back against her chest, smiled as she heard his contented rumble. His eyes were soft, in a way. They were almost gentle, affectionate at least. He watched for a time, then turned, and started back the way he had come. “Topec!”

Confused he turned to regard her, “…yes?”

“Why…why didn’t you..?”

He smiled, “Do I look such a fool, as to assume I will live forever? You hold our immortality in your arms, and question why I have not snuffed that candle.” His eyes were dark, and deep. “I am not concerned with defeat, if it is well deserved. I have fallen to my blood before. It is how we are meant to fall.”

Elactrice nursed their son, looked quietly at him. “Then Exstapis…”

“He is mine, Leviathan forged him with the master’s mold, and in turn he faced me in battle.”

“…And, did he know? Does he?”

“Yes. He knew then, and knows now.”

Another rumble, softer, lighter, how could she have mistaken them? Exstapis came over quietly, keeping a respectful distance from Topec. He looked down at his much younger half brother and seemed to nod. Topec rumbled lowly, not liking a potentially dangerous dominant male about his child. Exstapis lowered his head in respect and moved away. His proud form disappeared into the side passages of hell, and was gone.

Silently the two drifted together, until she leaned against him for support and he pulled her to him before she could fall. Her eyes fluttered, her breaths were coming deeper and deeper. He scooped her into his arms, watched her eyes shut with a low moan. Upon her chest their son was already sleeping. He turned his head, caught the air around them in his nose. It was sweet with the scent of Vanilla. He smiled and turned, heading for her quarters.

They were not far; she had been none to strong. He placed her on the mattress, adjusted her arm so the babe could not roll from her side. He looked around quietly for a moment, as if to be sure no one was watching. Then, with a soft sigh he laid beside her, spooned her to him, her back to his chest. Listened to them breath, unaware and safe in Leviathans embrace, and now his. He would leave at the next dawn, when he was no longer welcome. But for now…
head down he closed his eyes, and savored the moment.

Dreamer watched the labyrinth and pouted; Angelique laughed and reclined like royalty on the bed. “You still are waiting for him Dreamy poo?” Dreamer froze, shivered with revulsion, stunned she turned to look at Angelique.

“…what did you say?”

Angelique’s eyes got mockingly wide. “Oh… nothing, Dreamy poo.”
Fire like a million atom bombs flashed in Dreamers eyes. Blades drawn she loomed above the fallen princess.

“What, Did, You, Say?!!!”

Angelique backed away, silently mouthed “Oh Shit.” Dreamer lunged across the bed at her with a war cry.

… Much Shrieking followed as Dreamer chased Angelique into the hallways of hell, it was pandemonium. Topec’s youngest watched them with disbelief as they ran circles around the God like a May-pole of doom. She sighed, turned to go back to her quarters, and mumbled sarcastically,

“…And to think, I hesitated.