Page 8 of The Daughter of the Devil

My wandering thoughts cease as I approach the guards at the smaller side door that leads to the throne room. There is only one door here and it is less grandiose than the double doors considered to be the main entrance. I request an audience and I'm granted one fairly quickly. The guard that had gone to notify the king holds the door open for me and I step in. Stepping inside I can see the king is preoccupied torturing a soul. The grand throne room has shifted into a large theater room, with a stage and seating for audience members. It looked like a theater you would see in the human realm. The king is seated at the front row looking up at the soul he is torturing. It is a human man, completely naked, standing in front of a podium while giving a passionate speech about something or other. I'm not listening to the human ramble as I kneel down by the king’s feet to his left. He doesn't acknowledge my presence so I wait patiently in silence.

“You may speak, Junior.” He says after a few minutes of listening to the soul still talking, trapped in the illusion of his worst fear.

“Your Majesty, I came to report another attack against my lady, Princess Morgana. We went to the same cemetery where she was attacked before and a hellhound appeared. He tried to kill her but I disposed of it before it could.” I report still kneeling at my king’s feet, looking at his dress shoes.He can become irate when it comes to his daughter, so I can only hope-

“Was she injured?” He asks in a calm voice but knowing him for so long as I have, I know he is worried for her, but did not want to show it. He finally turns to look at me as he asks this.

“No, Your Majesty. She is alright, resting in her room.”

I feel a cold hand go under my chin and tip my head back, now looking at him, expression calm and collected. “You’ve done well, Junior. Thank you for protecting my Morgana so well,” he says making eye contact for the first time since I had entered. I can see his relief and appreciation in his eyes.

“It is my job to serve and protect the princess, Your Majesty. I shall do it till the end of my time.” Or to the end of her now mortal life, I add in my head, not brave enough to say out loud for more than one reason.

He releases my chin and leans back in his chair. He waves at me, signaling to raise and sit on the chair beside him. I do as he orders, making sure to thank him.

“I wanted to ask you something if I may, Your Majesty.” He gives me a gesture to proceed, while staring at the soul he just helped to overcome his fear of public speaking in the nude. “I wanted to ask you, have there been any missing hellhounds recently?” Lucifer doesn’t respond but after a second he turns his attention back on me making me feel small under his intense gaze.

“You know, your dedication to my daughter, while admirable, is strange. I have never met a demon servant quite so passionate and willing to go the extra mile for their master like you do. Especially since you are no longer under her command, unable to decline her every request. It is very curious,” Lucifer states coldly while staring me down. I feel the shock wash over me at his words. I try to sculpt my expression into one of neutrality so he doesn't see how off guard he has caught me, but his disappointed sigh suggests he still notices something. "Alistair, you must understand," he continues, his tone now laced with a mix of curiosity and authority, "I have seen countless servants come and go, each bound by their contracts, their loyalty driven by obligation rather than genuine care. Yet here you stand, free from such bindings, yet still unwavering in your devotion to Morgana. Why is that?"

"Your Majesty," I begin cautiously, knowing full well that lying would result in far worse than reprimand. Lucifer would probably cut out my tongue over a simple lie. "My loyalty to Lady Morgana transcends the usual bonds of servitude. I have served her for years now, and in that time, I have come to care for her deeply. It is not just duty that drives me, but a sincere desire to protect and support her."

Lucifer narrows his eyes, studying me intently. "But surely you understand the implications of your feelings. If she regains her powers, she will ascend once more to her rightful place as the Princess of Darkness. You, a mere servant, would be forbidden to covet her. And if she remains mortal, she will live a fleeting life, and you will be left behind, eternal and alone."

I swallow hard, unable to refute his words. "I understand, Your Majesty. But my feelings for her cannot be changed by the circumstances of her power or mortality. Whether she ascends to her throne or lives as a mortal, I will stand by her side."

Lucifer's expression softens slightly, though his eyes remain sharp. "You are either very brave or very foolish, Alistair. Perhaps both. But know this: my daughter’s safety and happiness are paramount to me. If you ever endanger her, intentionally or not, I will ensure you face consequences far worse than you can imagine."

"I would never endanger her, Your Majesty," I vow, my voice steady. "I will protect her with my life."

"Good," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Because if she does regain her powers, she will need steadfast allies. And if she remains mortal, she will need someone to make her short life meaningful." As I absorb his words, Lucifer continues, his tone almost contemplative. "All hellhounds are accounted for and haven’t left Hell all week," he states with finality. "I suspect there is more to this than we understand. Be vigilant, Alistair."

"I will, Your Majesty," I reply, bowing deeply.

"You may go," he says, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

As I turn to leave, he calls my name once more. "Alistair," he says, his voice softer. "Take care of her. She is precious to me."

I nod, understanding the weight of his words. "I will, Your Majesty," I promise before exiting the room.

10

An Invitation

Morgana

Isit leaning forward on the sticky cafeteria table waiting for Alistair to bring me my food. In the meantime, I nod occasionally pretending to be paying attention to a rambling Sierra who has joined us once more for lunch. I accept the tray of human food I’m forced to depend on when Alistair returns and give a nod in thanks. Observing the glob of sustenance on my plate which I imagine is the mash potatoes the menu board advertises, I find myself lamenting the turn of events. How I miss sipping blood and relishing in the sweet metallic taste.

Pushing around the food on my plate I only end up eating half which I imagine is the source of Alistair’s deep frown. He is staring at my plate in discontent and something akin to worry. I ignore this and turn into Sierra complaining about an English book assignment. She has to pick a book for a report but what caught my attention was the topic of the book.

“You picked a book about mythology? I thought you said your brother was into that stuff, not you,” my tone accusatory, eyebrow raised as I stare at the girl across the table. Sierra turns red after being caught in her lie from yesterday.

“I just didn’t want you to think I’m a nerd that’s into magic and stuff like that. A lot of people think it’s lame.” She trails off and looks away embarrassed.

“Why would I think it’s lame? Magic is real,” I state in a matter-of-fact tone, since magic is very real and the creator of a lot of things – including my home. She looks at me in surprise most likely due to the fact that she’s probably been ridiculed for her interests before.

“That’s what I say all the time. There’s a lot of proof out there in texts and caves. And some people even practice it here.” Her last statement catches me off guard.

“What do you mean?”

---