To the Victor goes the Spoils/Continued

Author’s note: I own nothing! Bit of a flashback to the past here, involving Shapron and Behemoth and pretty much everything. Will do the same in the next chapter. Yay!

Let me take you back to the time before the great divide, when behemoth ruled the skies of hell. There were no boxes, there was no gatekeeper. Chaos and order danced to the same dark music on the same icy dance floor. Prayers and supplications rose from the priests of the gods, demons held fiery revels far from the sacred guardian’s sight.

In ancient times…
Hell had held up two favored sons…
Fathered by the same demon, the Great Shapron…
The Prince of the chains, and Pleasure…
The Prince of the Opals, and Pain…

The demon Tec Pozep, Angel of divine pain and guardian of the second gate, stood alone in the hall of Opals. His mind was troubled, since his rebirth his sibling and Father had shunned him. Was the change so terrible? Yes it was… different. It was a strange flesh, not like his own. But it was beautiful in a way. Leviathan, the beloved apprentice of the Great God Behemoth had given it as a gift, and with it came a sense of balance, a strange calm he had not known could exist, an order. Every stitch was a thread in the pattern; every slice was a carving in the design. And oh, the design itself… exquisite. He traced the opals now imbedded in his flesh, shivered lightly at their chill.

And the desires of this skin, he had never felt the like. Every nerve was alive and thrumming, as if Leviathan had stretched through him a chord and was even now plucking. …His mate had noticed it, to put things delicately, which had lead to his now standing exiled from his quarters inside the sacred Hall. She was not having an easy time of this one… he growled below his breath, paced anxiously, his robes swirling about his feet. Was it not to be, that the first birth was the most difficult? And this was hardly their first… the opals cast his reflection back at him, revealing the tension lines in his face below the ceremonial hood. His mind wandered back to his other family.
It worried him, their adverse reaction. His brother would not speak to him, he growled when they crossed, as if a rival male had entered his presence, not his own blood! It was whispered that Behemoth did not approve of the change, that Leviathan had overstepped a set boundary. That was beyond him.

His father was Behemoth’s priest, he and his sibling were warriors at heart. From the adjoining room a wail of pain caught and held his focus, he snarled, revealing teeth. This was taking too long… the wail came again, and when it was cut off by a small, weak screech he offered his prayer to the gods and entered.
Terethe, sweat streaked and still arched with birthing pains hardly glanced at him. The lesser demoness between her legs was far to busy at her work to look at him. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. She had needed assistance? She had never required assistance before, why now?

But from the moment he saw the child, his confusion in the matter cleared. He was bigger than his siblings had been, and fiercer, wailing as if to call the gods themselves to blame for his rude birthing. His legs flailed and his arms did the same. He was strong… and loud. Very loud. Terethe placed the infant to her breast, sighed relieved when he began to nurse, as it eased the last of her pains. Tec Pozep was relived because it stopped the noise. “…Terethe..?” She looked at him, tired, but contented. The lesser demon departed as skillfully as she had come. “He is paler than most infants…”
“Yes, and you are now as pale as frost. It does not surprise me.”
“You are well?”
“I will live. Never open my legs to you again, but I will live.”

Pozep smiled, he sat beside her, nuzzled lightly, chuckled when he caught the scent of Vanilla. “He smells as I do.” She didn’t respond to his statement, her eyes were distant. He scented fear on her, held her to him and rumbled softly. “Terethe…”
“Leviathan will have expected this; he will be forged, as you were forged. Our Lord Behemoth does not approve…”
“Hush, the matters of the Gods are theirs, and not our affairs. It is well.”
“But…”
“Terethe, I am beloved of the Gods, favorite of Leviathan, it will be well. You fear for nothing.”
“You it seems fear nothing.”

Pozep opened his mouth to reply and stopped. As she looked on confused he ran her statement through his thoughts, his eyes widened slightly. “…You are right, I fear nothing. I cannot fear.” The disquieting admission hung heavily between them, until Terethe whispered into the hush. “What shall he be called?”
Tec Pozep looked down at the infant, his eyes widened, clouded in pain. Without a word he rose and left ignoring the exclamation from his mate, he sprinted to his fathers quarters, a thin frost icing the stones where he leapt.

. Shapron was kneeling, his half whispered prayers gave a chill to the room, his hood completely hid his face from his second born. As was customary Tec Pozep knelt, his eyes downcast.
“…what troubles you, my son?”
Pozep looked up surprised, it was not a cold question, but came softly, as if the great demon was actually concerned. His father did not rise from his kneel, nor turn to face him, but a faint glimmer of red shone at him from below the cowl. “…Father.”
“You are troubled my son.”
“Yes…”
“It pains you?”
“…”
“Is your mate well? She was close to birthing.”
“She is delivered.”

“Ah… so it is what I feared.” The red dimmed and a tired sigh escaped the cowl. “The child is as you are?”
“No father. My son is…”
“A son. A male heir finally. And I had given up hope. So many hours I have prayed for Lord Behemoth’s blessing in this… he remembers his faithful. Perhaps he has forgiven us.”
“Father! I have committed no sin!”
The great demon smiled, his mouth just now visible below the cowl. “…
My son… harken thus froth unto me, and do not question. Though the sin was unintentional, it was a sin. You are not completely at fault, no. but what has occurred is an unnatural melding of prey and predator, surely you can see this?” Tec Pozep was silent. “…I have not hated you, my son.”
“You must help my child father.”
“…he was born weak? He is ill?”
“no, there is no illness or weakness.”
“Then what is the matter?”
“…Father… there is no light at all in his eyes…”
“You cannot mean…”
“ I believe he is blind. They are as black as the opals themselves.”

… … …

In the end, there was nothing that could be done. Blind he was not, but his images came only in shades and shadows, brief, and fleeting. Such vision was a cripplement among demons. Terethe and Tec Pozep raised him despite it, but they could not better his chances at living. His hope was to join the worships of Behemoth, it was not to be.
Too much fire ran in his blood, too much spirit ruled his heart. Leviathan loved him, more perhaps than his sire, and kept the boy close as he grew to manhood.
…And it was the God himself who gave the half demon his name, Xipe Topec.

The pieces on the playing board were in motion already; he had been born just in time for the end.