POV: Athaliah Beleth
You kneel because you love him.
You love him because you kneel.
And you know it's not your choice.
…
"Standing around for hours really wears a man down," Amras said as he lounged on the couch, his feet resting in her lap while she massaged them in silence. A wine glass dangled from his fingers.
"I apologize for the inconvenience, master," Athaliah replied, her voice flat.
He clicked his tongue and glanced down at her. "Is that all? You sound like a broken doll. Would it hurt you to pretend you mean it?"
She looked up at him timidly, her fingers never stopping their motion. "I apologize for my incompetence, master," she said, a trace of fear slipping into her tone.
Amras answered with a sneer. "Ah, apologies. Your new specialty, isn't it?" he mocked. "How the mighty have fallen. You were once one of the brightest stars of our generation and now look at you."
His gaze hardened, the mask of amusement dropping to reveal raw disgust. "Forced to serve at the feet of your own queen. You who once thought you could surpass Serafall Leviathan herself," he said with a laugh that cut deeper than any blade. He was particularly vicious tonight.
"I was a foolish girl with foolish dreams," she replied distantly, as though she were speaking of someone else.
He chuckled. "Yes, you were. You would not be here otherwise. All alone."
Raising his glass in a mock ceremony, he smiled. "A toast to poor Athaliah," he said. "The girl who dreamed too big and found herself wanting. To the cherished daughter who thought herself precious and is cherished no longer."
He drank. Athaliah said nothing, continuing the steady rhythm of her hands.
"Your brother seems to have changed," Amras said after a moment.
"He has been in exile for the last two years," she answered calmly. "That is bound to change anyone, no matter how strong their will. Being forced from your home is no small thing, even for him."
"You almost sound as if you care," Amras sneered. "Do you hope he might notice your situation and free you?"
"I would not dare," she replied at once.
Meruem might possess the king's eyes that read demonic energy at a minute level and grasp the true nature of things at a glance, yet she doubted he would see what bound her. He had no point of reference. She had been under Amras's control decades before Meruem was even born. And she doubted he cared enough about her to look that closely.
If Amras was right about anything, it was that she was alone.
"Yes, you would not," Amras said, leaning close until his face was inches from hers. "You love me after all, do you not?"
"I love you beyond reason or sense," she said without hesitation.
"Still," he mused, settling back. "I have a strange feeling about him. I need to find a way to bring him under my will. It is unwise to let one of the few who can see through my ability wander freely. The prince of Sheol under my control. That would be a sight."
"If anyone can achieve that," she said softly, "it is you, master."
"Perhaps he could be persuaded to go to the Eye of the Pit," Amras said aloud. He often spoke his thoughts in her presence, certain she would never betray him.
The Eye of the Pit - a wound gouged into reality itself.
A few years after the deaths of the original Satans, Lord Beleth sought to expand his holdings into the Familiar Forest, coveting its vast natural resources. What Beleth chose to ignore was that the forest was not unclaimed.
It was Tiamat's hoard.
The Dragon of Primeval Chaos did not negotiate and was swift in her wrath. She descended upon Beleth and killed him for the insult alone. But death was not sufficient retribution. At the very heart of House Beleth's territory, she tore open reality itself.
That wound connected to the Dimension Gap, forming a warped intermediary space, neither world nor void, a pseudo in-between realm that came to be known as the Eye of the Pit.
Its existence was unnatural. The chaotic properties of the Dimension Gap reacted violently with the dense demonic energy of the Underworld. From that connection, creatures of horrors emerged. Demonic beasts of warped flesh and instinct were born within the Eye, creatures shaped by instability and corruption.
These beasts vary in strength. Near the outer edges of the Pit, lesser entities crawl forth, which could be dealt with by low-class devils. The deeper one descends, the more twisted the space becomes, and the stronger the creatures that inhabit it. At its deepest layers, beings of nightmare dwell, rarely seen and never fully understood.
The beasts are hostile to all life. They recognize no allegiance, no hierarchy, and no restraint. Anything that enters their reach is attacked without hesitation.
Because the Eye of the Pit lies at the heart of House Beleth's domain, they bear the brunt of its consequences. Preventing the beasts from escaping the Pit is one of their foremost responsibilities, and one of their greatest weaknesses.
A significant portion of House Beleth's military must remain permanently stationed there, draining resources and limiting their ability to project power elsewhere.
In addition to the garrison, House Beleth regularly dispatches expeditionary forces into the Pit. These scouting teams venture deep into the unstable dimension to monitor beast populations and detect the formation of large-scale migrations; beast tides that, if left unchecked, could overwhelm the defenses and spill into the wider Underworld.
It was during one such expedition that Athaliah fell to Amras.
She had been fighting for days, exhausted and wounded from continuous engagements with the beasts. When Amras appeared before her, a mocking smile stitched across his face, she believed, briefly, that help had arrived.
She was wrong.
"Knowing him," he said, resting his hands on his chin, "any rumor about a Satan's inheritance would grab his attention immediately. And with his absolute faith in his own strength, he would charge straight into the pit alone and exhaust himself fighting the monsters there. Sounds familiar, right?"
She ignored the jab.
"That is a good plan, master," she said, as she was required to. "However, there is a problem."
"And that would be?"
"Queen Morena," she replied. "She would never allow her son to go to the pit, especially not alone. And father would never permit it either. Meruem is far too precious to be sent into such an unpredictable place."
"Ah, Morena," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I wonder what it would feel like to take that proud face and fuck it. To put the queen of Sheol under my feet and leave her ruined."
As if she would ever fall to someone like you, Athaliah thought bitterly.
She had always admired the mistress of a thousand plots. Her ambition. Her refusal to stop at anything to achieve her goals. The way she protected her son in a way Athaliah could only wish someone had ever protected her.
"I would advise caution, master," Athaliah said carefully. "If the queen catches even a hint of conspiracy, she will strike. Even your status as my queen will not protect you from her wrath."
Amras struck her across the face. His palm snapped against her cheek with enough force to turn her head aside and send her stumbling a step. A thin line of blood formed at the corner of her mouth.
"Watch your tone, bitch," he said coldly. "Do you think yourself important enough to protect me?"
Athaliah understood her mistake immediately. She should never say anything that wounded his fragile ego, yet one of the conditions of her servitude was to always look out for his safety.
"I beg your forgiveness, master," she said. "I was only worried about you."
"I have no need of it," he replied with disgust. "Given Meruem's pride, prying him away from his mother should be simple. Getting him into the pit will be easy."
"Even so," she said, "I wouldn't be surprised if Maerach Redmane has strict orders not to let Meruem enter the pit. You would have to deal with him."
"Maerach the Redmane, Maerach the Crimson," he said, as if searching his memory. "People overestimate him. He is a mere low-class devil with delusions of grandeur."
"He may be low-class," she said calmly, "but he rose to warden of the pit and commander through merit alone. His power and his skill as a commander are noteworthy."
Maerach was at least peak high-class in strength, with many victories behind him as a commander. Countless high-class devils had coveted the position of warden of the pit, yet her father had chosen Maerach instead. The nobility had never forgiven him for that decision.
"It doesn't matter," he said at last. "In the end, they will all fall to my will."
From the depths of her heart, she hoped that her brother would not fall for the trap.
.
.
.
POV: Meruem
"That was by far the worst day of my life," Meruem said, soaked and motionless in the bath. He floated on his back, limbs slack, like a corpse surrendered to the current.
"No need to be so dramatic, master," Rossweisse said dryly without looking up from her book. "One would think you had been sent to war. It was merely socializing."
Rose seemed determined to belittle his suffering. He had chosen quite the cruel queen.
"You would not say that if you were the one who had to endure it," he shot back.
"I was a valkyrie of Odin," Rossweisse replied, utterly unbothered. "I have endured many such occasions. So yes, I do know what I am talking about."
"Yes," Meruem conceded. "But did you have to listen to a countess who insisted on recounting every slight she had suffered over the past five centuries in strict chronological order?"
"No," Rossweisse admitted calmly. "But I did have to stand for days in Asgard's high hall while a drunken Einherjar attempted to recite poetry in Odin's honor."
"For days?" he repeated, shocked. "Don't you need to rest or go to the bathroom?"
"You say the strangest things, master," she said, amused at last. "I was a valkyrie, not a human. I could go for days without rest, and I don't need to use the bathroom. Did you think only devils could do that?"
"Something like that," he replied casually.
I suppose they are tougher than I thought, he reflected. He was not particularly knowledgeable about valkyrie physiology.
"Why are you here anyway?" he asked, gesturing vaguely to the chair she had dragged into the bathroom. She was seated there now, legs crossed, completely absorbed in her book while keeping him in her peripheral vision.
"Because a certain someone has been loitering in here for the last two hours," she answered flatly.
"It is very comfortable," Meruem defended himself. "You could join me."
"No, thank you," she said at once.
"Ouch," he said with exaggerated pain. "I bare my heart to you and you shatter it so cruelly."
"You know exactly that's not what I meant," she protested, stammering as her face flushed.
"No," Meruem said. "I have no idea what you meant. All I heard was your cold rejection of my sincere offer. I, being the generous young master that I am, wanted to share an intimate moment of relaxation with you, and what do you do? You take my heart and throw it in the oven."
"No, no, that's not…" she began, then stopped. "...Wait, you are teasing me."
For someone so brilliant, she could be painfully oblivious, Meruem thought with amusement.
"Your powers of observation continue to serve you well," he said dryly.
"Hmph," she huffed, blushing in a way she clearly hated. "When will you be finished here?"
The moment he had been allowed to leave the celebration, he had come straight here, only to find that Rossweisse had already prepared a warm bath for him. She really did know him too well.
"I have not even begun scrubbing," he announced proudly.
"You are telling me that you have been floating in here for two hours without actually washing yourself?" she shouted in disbelief.
"Of course," he said with a shrug. "You are a reincarnated devil, so your ignorance is understandable, but bathing is a sacred tradition in the underworld. It must never be rushed. It is customary to simply drift like this for four hours before beginning to wash."
"You just made that up," she accused.
"No, I did not," he insisted. He absolutely did.
"Her Majesty will be here any moment," Rossweisse sighed. "If you are not ready by then, she will be angry with me."
"Mother can wait," he said. He had no desire to plunge straight back into politics. "And besides, she adores you. She would never get angry at you."
"I don't want to take advantage of that," Rossweisse said firmly. "I am your queen, master. It is my duty to see you prepared for everything. Is there anything I can do to make you finish faster?"
"Very poor choice of words," he said, grinning.
Her eyes widened as realization dawned. "You know exactly what I meant," she snapped indignantly.
"There you go again assuming I am a mind reader," he replied sagely. "How am I supposed to know what you think?"
"I meant if I could maybe rub you so that this can be over quickly," she said with a huff. "And you are a mind reader."
"Well, if you insist," Meruem said, flashing a thoroughly self satisfied grin.
"That was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it?" she asked, studying him with suspicion.
She placed her book aside with careful deliberation, then began removing her clothes. The movements were slow and fluid, almost practiced, though the seduction was entirely unintentional.
"Accusation," he declared loudly, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"A true one," she replied flatly. "You always want to play with my boobs."
She stepped into the bath with him and settled behind his back, the water rippling gently as she did. She began scrubbing his shoulders, her touch firm and methodical. With each motion, her chest pressed against his back, warm and glorious.
"Can you blame me?" he said with a chuckle. "They are magnificent."
She sighed, long suffering, and continued her work.
For a time, neither of them spoke. The room filled with the quiet sounds of water sloshing softly and skin moving against skin. The silence felt comfortable, almost sacred.
"Was it that bad then?" she asked at last, breaking it gently.
"Not really," he answered calmly. "It was not as awful as I imagined. Just far too long. The music and the food were lovely."
"Did you manage to speak…?" she asked carefully. She knew of his strained relationship with his siblings and of his wish to mend it.
"A few words here and there," he replied. "They mostly kept their distance, which is understandable. But I spent most of the evening with Hermon. He did not seem to mind."
"That is good," she said softly. "It may be difficult at first, but I am certain your siblings love you and would be happy to have you back. It is important that you don't give up."
"I don't intend to," he said truthfully. In his past life, he had no siblings, though he had always wanted them. Here, he would do his best to repair what Meruem had once cast aside so carelessly.
"I met Prince Belathriel earlier," she added thoughtfully.
"Did you now?" he said with interest. "What did he say?"
"Nothing much," she replied. "He simply introduced himself calmly and asked a few questions about me. He is polite, unlike certain someone."
"I am a remarkably polite person," he said with a grin.
Rossweisse moved around to face him, her hands now scrubbing his chest. As she did, he reached out and casually caressed her chest in return.
"Hmm," she moaned softly. "And I am a favorite of Odin."
The fuck you mean Rossweisse was not Odin's favorite, Meruem thought in complete incomprehension. She is the sweetest girl ever.
"Well," he said aloud, "Odin was never known for his good taste in women."
"Do not let him hear you say that," she said, giggling softly.
"I will say it to his face," he boasted lightly.
"You would not… right?" she asked, suddenly worried.
He laughed deeply, then stopped when he realized she was serious.
"Rosie," he said gently, lifting a hand to her face and caressing her cheek. He met her eyes directly, his voice lowering. "you are my queen, and I love you. Why would I ever allow anyone to disrespect you, even Odin himself? The way he treated you was unacceptable."
Her eyes widened slowly. The words struck her with unexpected force. She stared at him, stunned, as though the idea itself refused to settle properly in her mind. Someone standing up for her. Someone seeing her worth so clearly. Someone choosing her without hesitation.
Her breath trembled. Memories surfaced unbidden. Being overlooked. Being whispered about. Being lesser among the valkyries. Always the disappointment who failed to inherit her family's magic. Always trying harder, smiling softer, standing straighter.
To hear someone say this so simply, so sincerely, shattered something inside her.
"Really?" she whispered, tears welling. "You would do that much for me?"
"Of course," he replied softly, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "I meant it when I said I would treasure you beyond any treasure."
She broke then, clinging to him as sobs shook her shoulders. Her insecurities, her sense of inadequacy for not inheriting her family's magic, all weighed on her.She could not comprehend how anyone could love her for who she was alone.
They remained like that for a long while.
"Master," she said after some time, her voice soft. "Can you do me a favor?"
"What favor?" he asked, still holding her gently.
"Can you promise me that you will try your best to reach out to Prince Belathriel as well?" she asked softly.
"I was going to do that anyway," he said with a shrug. "Why him specifically?"
"Because he looked so lonely," she said sadly.
"I promise," he said gently.
Having a prodigy as an elder brother was bound to leave scars of its own. Add Meruem's personality to that, and problems were inevitable for everyone involved.
AN: this story is three chapters ahead on patreon with more coming. Consider supporting me there: Abeltargaryen/Patreon.