Author's Note: Technically my first hardcore story! But just a little, so be warned as usual. It's also a combination of two smaller chapters into one part, just from where it was originally written. Originally based on the following prompts; "Demon who sings so sweetly, it is easy to forget their true nature" and "Demon who has left their mark on you, to ensure you do not forget."
CW for a captive princess, little bit of blood and dubious consent
---
The terrific sounds of battle had long since died, alongside the Princess's defenders, and now she lay helplessly beneath her bed. Wards that had been engraved one thousand years ago -- by the castle's Elfish builders, long since driven out -- cracked and comported a sea of glistening, raw magic across the floor.
She tried desperately to crawl away only to find herself
plucked
and placed back down, upon the bed. "You're still here. I had thought you would have fled with the royal procession."
"I-I wanted the Kingdom gone -- not me alongside it." She hid herself again, under the sheets, her Demon sitting down beside her.
"Nor I, sweetest fruit of the tree," said her Demon.
It has all been burned, branches and roots the same.
The Princess sat up, smiling as she had when they first met. "Besides, you've given me this Kingdom, but I still
need you
to secure it."
Her Demon's hands bore a fine wreath of silver roses, a delicate but unbreakable chain blossoming from one bud. The Princess pushed herself back.
"Áine?"
"Your Grace,
sweetest one. This was your wish, was it not?" Her Demon drew near and the Princess fled into the pillows, crying. The collar coiled itself around her neck -- her Demon tugging till she was bled by its thorns. "You're going to look
so
beautiful for the court."
"But Ái--
Your Grace,
how could a
demon
ever hold court? Why
would--"
The Princess was wound closer and closer, till her tears could be kissed from her cheeks.
"I could not hold my domain with monsters -- the people would not tolerate it." How long till a farmer's boy, blessed unfairly with destiny, would cut her down. "So, we must make a showing.
Soothe them,
and show my intentions to make peace. And I know, you wish things to be better, and they will be -- in time.
Theana?"
Áine held her Princess's hands, brought them together between their hearts, whom asked softly, "But why must I be there -- why must it be like this?"
"When will I tire of this? Six, seven centuries?" How many dynasties could have been sown and felled in that time. How much work would be lost. "There must be a lineage. And, for the people, it must be legitimate, more or less. So you must come--"
"--that they might know you, sweetest one." The Demon contorted herself silently, that she might whisper into her Princess's ear.
"My consort."
---
The Princess wished there'd been a thousand flights of stairs, to be carried away warmly in her Demon's arms. She had counted two, which made these her mother's chambers though she felt no recognition of that awful place. The marble floor had boiled and bubbled, grasping up the walls, crystalline tendrils dripping from the ceiling.
It was the cave she had been cast into, years ago -- to die, before her Demon found her -- before her late mother 'forgot' she had done so.
How often the Princess had returned there, to her Demon -- wishing to her that the world could be made better, given so many sweetened words in return.
"It's time --
consort."
she said, with only a silvered fleck of sombreness, drawing the Princess across the room on her leash -- gentle only so she wouldn't slip -- into the crimson light of the fireplace. "You need not be dressed again, for a few decades."
Rosy flames slipped from their iron cage, dragging the Princess to her knees.
"Please,"
she squealed. "You said it wouldn't be like this,
Áine--"
What did she promise you?
Cursed cinders whispered in her ears.
Her Grace.
They danced her dress away as flakes of ash.
Your Grace.
Ancient jewels crumbled into dust.
Your Grace.
They left only that bouquet her Demon had placed around her neck; of petals, and thorns, and broken promises; which her Demon used to bring their lips together. Then flinging her back, into a bed of snakes, before she could fool herself at her Demon's tenderness.
"How such sweet fruit grows
-- from the most
rotten
of trees --
that,
I shall never know."
