The Demon Queen and the Faery Prince - 1. Story

The Demon Queen and the Faery Prince

By Nephylim

The cell was cold and dark and decidedly damp. It was hewn out of the rock of the mountain and the walls were rough and, in places running with water. It gathered in a channel that ran though the middle of the cave, providing the many occupants their only water supply. Sometimes, if the Queen had been blending potions and thrown the effluent into the lake, or had been expending unusual amounts of dark magic over the water, it became contaminated and everyone fell ill. Sometimes it was more than that. Some of the more long term occupants had changed form more than once.

There were many occupants of the cell. Some were prisoners but others lived there. Many had been in occupation before the Queen had enlarged the already existing cave to make the cell. The only entrance or exit was the heavy iron door set into one wall which was several feet thick and led into a long narrow tunnel that wound in a circuitous manner to the surface, coming out in the higher levels of the palace dungeons.

There were no windows and the only light came from the phosphorescence on the walls. Once every day the guards came and threw food onto the floor and it was a free for all as bodies came out of the shadows on all sides and descended on the meagre scraps of sustenance that would keep them alive for another day.

The natural inhabitants generally did not take part in this as they had found their sustenance here long before the Queen came and they, or their descendents would be there long after she was nothing more than a bad dream. Their ancestors had been there before the mountain rose from the sea, their children would be there when it crumbled to dust. They lived in the shadows, in the water, in the air.

The unhappy prisoners who were imprisoned here were aware that they shared their living space with other beings but they rarely saw them. They feared them as people will those things they don’t understand. These prisoners were almost always proud and haughty when they arrived. They were invariably important people, often political prisoners. The pride didn’t last long. It couldn’t compete with the hunger. And the haughtiness died when they realised that this was likely to be their home for a very long time.

The Queen never came down here. Why would she? The only prisoners who were put here were those she didn’t want to ever lay eyes on again.

This morning a new prisoner had been added to the collection. The guards had brought him in and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. He had not moved since. Unusually the native creatures had taken a great interested in the still bundle of very expensive rags and shadows swarmed over them. Because of this the other prisoners stayed away.

At first the humans were curious. As soon as they heard the lock slide back on the door they knew something was about to happen. Their nostrils flared and their stomachs growled with the hope of food. When the guards dragged in the unconscious body they had a brief impression of a slender figure and long tendrils of silver white hair that completely covered the face and half the upper part of the body. They had no idea if it was a man or woman, old or young.

Their curiosity waned when the shadows started to crawl. When the first of them crept over the crumpled heap they lost interest completely.

Another shadow detached itself from the deeper pool under an outcrop from the wall and crawled across the floor. It licked out to touch the body and then it began to rise. The humans crouched against the wall and gibbered with fear as the shadow swirled upwards until it was roughly human shaped and gradually solidified into the shape of a young man. Although solidified might have been the wrong word. Dressed in muted tones of russet and brown with gently curling hair of the same colour kissing his shoulders, he was transparent, so that it was possible to see the phosphorescence on the wall of the cave behind him through his body.

The man dropped to one knee and touched the body. It didn’t move. Gently he gathered the scattered strands of hair and moved them aside, leaning over so he could see the face. When he did so he froze and simply stared.

The boy who lay at his knees was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen. He was so pale that his skin seemed translucent and the blood that flowed beneath wasn’t red. The long white hair had a silvery tinge that, when viewed in sunlight, even better in moonlight, wasn’t silver at all but incandescent like the wings of a dragonfly. The lashes that trembled on the white cheeks were almost transparent and fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. He was unconscious but not at peace.

The nut brown hand which reached out to gently touch his face was trembling and the moss green eyes were wide with horror and disbelief. For a moment the figure crouched over the pale boy and then abruptly it dissolved leaving only a puddle of shadow that seeped into the floor of the cave and was gone.

For a time there was silence. The shadows crawled around the boy but did not touch him. The humans huddled against the wall and watched suspiciously. None of them dared approach him.

Everything was still and silent. The shadows moved, they eddied, little swirls rose from the floor like tiny tornados. The chilly cave grew colder. The water in the channel iced over. Frost formed on the iron door. The humans shivered. There was a shimmer in the air near the unconscious boy and a figure appeared, outlined in ice, formed of shimmering translucence that held no warmth and only the slightest hint of physical form.

Although there was nothing visible the watchers caught details through the corners of their eyes, seen only when not looked at directly. The frosted hem of a long skirt stirring up the shadows that clung to it like dust. The glitter of diamonds adorning a slender throat and long pale hand. The shimmer of pearls encrusting a tight bodice.

The figure that was not there knelt before the figure that was. Gently, hesitantly, the white hand reached out and touched the white cheek. Ice blue eyes caressed him from the crown of his head to his torn and bloodied naked feet. Fire flashed and the icy eyes melted to blue fire. The light of the flames filled the room and burned coldly.

The eerie light illuminated the form of a tall slender woman with a face of such beauty that this alone had the humans cowering against the walls as if they wanted to press through them. The face, although beautiful was set in a mask of fury and the eyes flashed with anger. Slowly, delicately she reached out and lifted the cold, limp hand holding it briefly to her lips. Her fingers caressed the heavy silver ring on the middle finger.

Laying the hand reverentially back on the slender hip she threw back her head and howled. It was not a howl that any animal or human throat would be capable of. It was elemental, like the scream of the wind. It shook the cave and the foundations of the palace built above, it radiated like the aftershocks of an earthquake for many miles. Although there were no words to the howl its meaning permeated the very fabric of the world. WAR. Far above, in a crowded hall it was heard and the cruel face of the creature who heard it smiled.

In the cave all was silent. The icy figure was frozen, her head thrown back, the long white hair brushing the ground behind her. Slowly she raised her head, her face set in lines of sorrow and rage. At her signal the shadows danced and the semi transparent, earthy young man slowly emerged and sank to one knee bowing deeply. There was no sound, but a breath of wind. There was no movement but the whisper of snow on snow. But they all heard the message as loud as if it had been screamed.

“Deva! Stay with him. Care for him as you may. Report to me. There will be war for this.”

“As Your Majesty pleases.”

And then the figure became a shimmer, the shimmer became a blur and the blur disappeared. Deva rose from the bow and looked around. Carefully tearing a strip from the shredded robe the boy was wearing he took it to a place where water was running into the still frozen channel. Placing the rag under the flowing water he made sure it was entirely soaked. The huddled prisoners watched in wonder as this ghost like figure performed such a natural physical act.

Holding the wet rag carefully Deva carried it back to the boy. He knelt and lifted him into his arms. He was utterly unresponsive. His head hung back over Deva’s arm, his hair sweeping the floor behind. Gently clearing the long tendrils away from his face Deva parted his lips with one finger and squeezed the rag into his mouth. The water trickled from the sides as the boy made no attempt to swallow. With a sigh that swept through the cave like wind through the forest he dropped the rag onto the floor and held the boy close to him, crooning a song without words. His eyes were closed and his face intense.

They made a strange contrast. The muddy brown boy with skin the colour of oak bark. His silver and white companion with skin like fine opal. Yet somehow they complimented each other. Yin and Yang. The earth and the sky. Night and day. The glow from the one made the other seem more solid, more present, even while it made it’s creator less so. The word that, had any of the prisoners been thinking clearly at that time, might have sprung to their minds would have been... elemental. They would have been mostly right.

Time passed, as time will. It could have been moments. It could have been days. It could have been years. Time had little meaning in this place. With no day or night, nothing to mark the passing of the hours it served nothing other than to bear witness to the whiling away of lives.

The sound of the bolt sliding back startling them all. Deva’s head shot up and he stared at it with something like fear on his face. Gently laying his companion on the cold stone floor he dissolved into shadow which sank into the earth. By the time the door swung open there was nothing but a lingering odour of damp earth which went unnoticed by all.

The guards came in first. They stood on either side of the door, two on each side facing out. At first the prisoners began to crawl nearer in the hope of food but there was none offered. Soft footfalls were heard in the passage outside, accompanied by the tinkling of tiny bells. They immediately scuttled back again to cower against the walls. The stared transfixed at the figure who regally lowered her head and glided into the room.

Tall by human standards she stood over seven feet high but was in perfect proportion. Her appearance was startling; from her shapely, mostly naked body, to her raven black hair bound in a long braid hanging over one shoulder, twined with gold and threaded with pearls. Diaphanous robed swirled as she walked, multi coloured and sheer almost to the point of invisibility. Apart from a waistband of red leather studded with rubies from which hung a short skirt of glittering studded leather strips she was naked beneath.

The most startling thing of all was her face which was incredibly and terrifyingly beautiful. Although her skin was as blue as the ocean it did nothing to detract from the beauty which was further enhanced by her regal bearing.

She was a Queen. Of that there was no doubt. She wore a crown of pearls on her head and carried a jewelled staff surmounted by a diamond the size of a goose egg. She was a cold and terrible Queen. She was a demon. The eyes that stared haughtily from the glorious countenance were red and burned with a demonic fire that left no one in any doubt about her nature and the tips of her long and slender fingers were clawed and venomous.

Glancing around once she smiled. The baleful eyes missed nothing. She had been here. Oh yes. She had come. She had seen. Well let her see. Let her go back to her pathetic kingdom and declare war. She had already lost. Here and now the final battle would begin and it was a battle that She, Queen though she was, could not win.

“Show yourself you pathetic creature. I know that you are here. I can feel you. Your Queen would not have left her precious son alone in my hands. Does she think that I am a fool? There are wards on this chamber that not even you can break, Lord of the Cold Earth.” She spat out the title in a voice that dripped with scorn. That was not his true title of course but it did not do to speak such things out loud. Especially not at a time like this.

“No doubt you are to be her messenger, to report to her about the welfare of her unfortunate offspring. I am afraid that I have bad news for you to impart. I do hope that she does not turn her anger upon the bringer of the message. It would be most sad for two noble lords to be lost to her in one day.”

The air eddied as if it was itself angry with her words but she just laughed. It was a full rich laugh and it boomed around the cave, bouncing from the walls.

“I have a message for your Queen, fey one. Tell her this. Tell her that from this day on her Aster Ganos (bright star in Greek) her precious Psukhe (meaning soul - Pronounced Suki)is and always will be mine. Bear witness to my power. Stand as the recorder of this auspicious event. Mark this day, when The Queen’s son perishes and mine is conceived. Take careful note Deva for I will expect you to convey to you mistress in great detail what is about to transpire.”

No breath of air swirled the shadows at her feet. Indeed it was as if the very earth itself held its breath and waited to see what she would do.

Smiling the Demon Queen held out her hands palm down the ghastly red claws like clots of blood dripping from the ends of her fingers. Whispering across the dusty floor the rags that had clothed the prince’s body seemed to take on a life of their own and slithered away from him, leaving him naked. The Queen smiled, her black lips curling mirthlessly.

Turning one hand palm upwards fine silver chains shot from her fingers and wrapped themselves loosely around the prince who was bourn upwards as if lifted by invisible arms. He hung there suspended. His feet almost touched the ground. His back was arched and his head hanging back, the glorious hair draped over one shoulder and then cascading in frothing abandon to barely inches above the floor. His face was pointing straight up at the ceiling but his body was tilted as if the arms that were holding him were not straight. One arm was at his side, held either by the silver chains which seemed to be binding nothing, or by the invisible body in whose arms he lay. The other hung limply almost touching the floor.

In this position the contours of his body were accentuated, utterly laid open to anyone whose eyes slid hungrily across his flat stomach, or lingered on the smooth pale skin on his long shapely limbs, or the delicate curve of his shoulder. Those same hungry eyes might linger to admire the beauty of his softly rounded hip or rise to the promise of his long slender neck, presented in all its glory by the angle of his head. They would have been disappointed though if they had sought to espy his manhood for the chains which swathed his loins were thicker and concealed what every eye in an honest head would admit to being the ultimate object of their survey.

What everyone who stared at the glory of the suspended body had to admit was that it was the epitome of perfection. There was no flaw anywhere. No spare ounce of fat or flesh. No blemish. No deformity of any kind. He was perfect. Not even the deep purple bruises on the side of his face, running down over his shoulder and ribs, could mar that beauty and only enhanced it, speaking of impermanence and bringing the only colour to the marble paleness of is form.

Somewhere the air eddied in what sounded like a sigh and the Queen laughed. “Save your breath Deva. There is so much more. Keep your sighs for when you truly have something to sigh about.”

Still laughing the Queen stepped forwards and ran her hands over the body which hung at just below chest height. The boy shuddered in his sleep as her fingers traced the lines and curves of his body, lingering in places to the tinkling of silver on silver.

“Ah sweet boy. Do not shrink from my touch. Soon you will welcome it. You are so pale, so cold. You need fire in your veins and I shall give it to you.” She leaned forwards and kissed him deeply. With a sigh the incandescent lashes shivered and lifted to reveal eyes of stunning topaz which gazed sightlessly upwards.

The Queen caressed his face and smiled deeply. He remained unresponsive as she touched his hair, his lips, his cheek. With one claw she drew pictures lightly on his skin. Over his stomach, his chest, his shoulders. Tilting his head further back so that his empty eyes stared into her face she hooked his hair and brushed it away from his face and throat.

“You are so pretty my love, but oh how cold that beauty is. Have you ever felt the touch of a loving hand? Have you moaned in the throes of passion? Have you tasted the sweetness of another’s body? You will my love, you will. I will release you from the chains that have bound you since your birth. Chains not of silver but of fear and selfish love. Here, with me you will be free.” As she spoke she ran her claw up and down his exposed throat but there was no reaction.

Laying her other hand against the side of his face she caressed his lips with her finger while she stared deeply into his eyes. “It will just be a little while my pretty one, just a little while and you will be mine. Such a small price to pay. Such a short time to wait. And at the end... and eternity at my side. You shall be my prince, my heir, the son I have never conceived. But you will be so much more. The leader of my armies, the warmer of my bed, the father of my children. This and so much more shall be yours...when you are mine.

“Forgive me my love. If there were a way that this could be done without pain then I would seek it but to be sure that you are wholly mine I must fill your veins with my fire and it will burn you. But do not fear. It will not kill you. And in three days, when the fire dies, I will come for you and you will take your place at my side. You shall be my prince, my consort, my love. Remember this when you burn. Remember... this...” She leaned forward and kissed him, then she plunged the claw of her right index finger into his neck, her lips still clasped to his.

His entire body jerked and convulsed against the bonds but the movements appeared to have little conscious volition to them. His hands clasped and unclasped, his own nails digging into his palms. The Queen smiled against his lips continuing to pump venom into his body. When she raised her head, his chest was threaded with fine red lines as if veins of fire were running through the marble. She continued until his entire body was veined with her burning energy.

When she withdrew the claw he shuddered and his body twisted, writhing in the chains which tinkled musically with the movement. Smiling the Queen ran her hands over the hot body which glowed with an eerie red light. He trembled at her touch. She stood at his head and stroked his face, crooning to him as his body arched in torment. His lips opened and closed, flecked with bloody froth and his eyes were changing. Now the turquoise blue was trapped within a ring of flame.

After a time the fire faded and the boy hung still and limp in his bonds. The Queen, still stroking his face leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. He groaned deeply. Lifting her head The Queen smiled fondly at him.

“Sleep now sweet prince. Soon you will begin to change. I wish that I could make it easier for you but unfortunately pain is part of the process. Just relax and let it happen, it will whether you fight it or not. It will be so much easier for you if you don’t...” she bent and whispered in his ear, “...but I would be so disappointed if you didn’t.”

Her fingers crackled as she ran them through his hair. His eyes flickered, still bearing the red ring around the irises. A shudder passed through him as the questing fingers found the base of his skull and sent a chilling burst of energy into his body which travelled like ice cold fire down his spine and up into his brain. He hardly had time to gasp before his body convulsed and his eyes rolled upwards as consciousness was violently ripped from him.

Making a dismissive gesture with her hands The Queen withdrew the chains and the body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Raising her head The Queen spoke to the ethers.

“Bear this message to you Queen, little one. Her son is gone. His body will lie here in torment for three days while my burning energy consumes him. On the third day he will be mine. Tell her also that she is not welcome here. That if she tries to breach my defences again I will destroy her utterly. If she has not yet had the opportunity to say goodbye to her precious Psukhe then her chance is gone. She will see his body again but in three days his soul will be burned to oblivion and the shell will be filled with my fire.

“Feed the animals.” She directed the guards as she swept through the doorway and was gone. The guards ducked into the passageway outside and threw the usual slops onto the floor of the cave before they left.

This time there was no rush towards the food. The prisoners were cowed, terrified by what they had witnessed. Slowly the bravest among them crept across the floor towards the food but he ignored it. Instead he crawled past it to the fallen prince. Reaching out his hand he touched the cold flesh and brushed the tangled hair from the beautiful face.

“Oh my prince, my prince, what have they done to you?” He wept.

For as long as it took for time to pass the only sound in the cave was that of weeping. It was not just the man who wept. The very shadows mourned. The ice on the water hissed. The tinkling of the water falling into the channel conveyed unbearable sorrow. The rock wept.

At first the shadows kept their distance. Then, tentative at first, they crept forward and soon they were swarming over the cold body in which the red glow had faded. The man who had been kneeling at his side skittered back and huddled in his usual spot hugging the wall.

The shadows deepened. They coalesced and in moments Deva stood, his face grave, his green eyes moist with tears. Dropping to his knees he again lifted Psukhe’s body into his arms and the tears fell thicker, splashing on his stone cold face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry my love. I came too late. I let them take you. Forgive me.” he closed his eyes and rocked. He lost himself in sorrow.

Slowly the cold skin pressed against his warmed but he did not notice. He was too immersed in his own pain. He knew nothing until Psukhe stirred and his moans whispered in Deva’s ears. Surprised he opened his eyes and looked down at a face that was suddenly flushed and damp with perspiration. Beneath the surface fire burned. It was invisible now but still it burned.

Gently stroking Psukhe’s hot face Deva crooned and rocked him as the fever built, sending chills to wrack his body and chatter his teeth.

“Hush beautiful one. I am here. I will be here to the end. Do not be afraid. I swore I would never leave you and I never will.”

At the sound of his voice Psukhe turned his head and moaned. Deva rocked him and crooned but it did nothing to soothe the torment. Psukhe’s breathing quickened to pants and his hands clenched.

“Hush now. Please. Don’t...” The pain was raw in his voice and it may have been this or it may have been something else that brought consciousness back where it should never have been.

“Deva.” The word was soft and breathless but it stopped Deva in his tracks. Breathless himself he forced a smile as Psukhe’s eyelids fluttered and opened. Staring down into the brilliant blue eyes, forcing himself not to shudder at the red rims that still circled the pools.

“My Prince. I’m so sorry I let you down.”

“Where am I?”

“In the dungeons of the Demon Queen.”

“Deva...” His eyes fluttered, and his gasping breath caught in his throat.

“Ssshhh. It’s alright. Try to rest. Don’t...”

“I burn.”

“I know. I know you do. Please... just...” He couldn’t continue. How could he comfort Psukhe when there was no comfort to give?

“What... what did... do... me?”

“She... she’s changing you. Her venom is in your veins. That’s what burns. She’s turning you into a demon.”

The blue eyes widened and then hardened. “Never.”

“Psukhe you can’t... You know you can’t... no one can.”

“Then... kill me now.”

Deva reflexively shook his head. “NO. No I can’t do that. Don’t ask it of me My Prince, my love.”

“I can’t... I can’t be...” His voice died but his eyes continued the conversation.

“No. No it cannot be. It will not be. I will not end your life. You must go on.”

Psukhe shook his head, fading. His eyes searched Deva’s face then he shook his head again.

“No. I cannot. You cannot ask it of me. There must be another way. You must fight it. You a prince, an elemental, no common man. The Demon’s venom destroys the souls of mortals a fey alike but you... you are half elemental. More that this... your element it Aether which combines them all. You are strong, stronger than any man I have ever come across. You can fight it. I know that you can fight it. I have faith in you. Fight it Psukhe. Promise me.”

Gathering the last reserves of strength Psukhe gripped his hand and gazed into his eyes. “I will promise... to try... if you... promise that if... if I... fail... you will... you will not let...me become...”

Deva, weeping freely gripped the cold hand hard and nodded. “I give you my word. If... if you fail I will not let her take your soul. I will take it from you first and cherish its memory for eternity.”

Psukhe sighed and closed his eyes.

“Wait.”

With a great deal of effort the prince cracked open his eyes, just a little.

“You have to know. Just... just in case you have to know.” Deva bent low over him, holding him tight against him. Psukhe had no strength to hold up his head so Deva, burying his hand in the long hair, raised it for him. “You know that I have served you well all your life. We grew together. We were children playing in the flower... together. We served our apprenticeship in the guard... together. We ate together, slept together, ate together and you were the best friend I ever had.

“But... you were more than that. I know that you know I love you but I don’t think you know just how much.” Gently, lightly, tenderly Deva took possession of his lips and Psukhe surrendered to him.

After a soft, sweet moment Deva raised his head and gasped. The eyes that stared into his were pure, clear blue again. The look on Psukhe’s face was wondrous. He opened his lips to speak but before there was a chance to speak he shuddered as the red bled back into his eyes. With his last sighing breath before he sank back into his nightmare Psukhe breathed. “I know.”

For two long days and two long nights Deva stood guard over his prince. Sometimes he burned with a fever than bent his back and sent his body into convulsions. Sometimes he lay comatose, cold and still. Sometimes he clung blindly to Deva and screamed until his throat bled and he collapsed again exhausted.

Often the burning fire in his veins was visible beneath the skin, crawling through his body like trails of red ants. These were the times that Deva feared most of all. At these times Psukhe would lie shivering and sweating while the took possession of him and then twitch and jerk, his back arching, raising his body from the ground so far that Deva could hear his spine creak. For a time he would be completely locked with a look of such pain on his face that Deve wept with helpless frustration.

Always these fits ended with a violent convulsion which left Psukhe vomiting bloody bile onto the floor and losing control of his bodily functions before lapsing again into the deep unconsciousness which differed from death only in the fluttering heartbeat and shallow breath. Grimly Deva would carry water from the channel and clean his body, saying a prayer for his soul. He had no idea if these fits indicated success or failure in the epic battle that was being waged within the frail body.

Being part fey and part elemental Psukhe needed little nourishment, other that water, which Deva dribbled into his mouth whenever he was able to swallow. Never again in the whole time that Deva sat and watched did he open his eyes again or speak a word other than a scream.

Many times Deva wanted nothing more than to flee. He could not bear to see his love in such torment and he wanted to turn away his face and cover his ears. But he did not. He had promised his Queen to watch over her son no matter what and, more than this, he had promise Psukhe.

The denizens of the shadow helped as much as they could. They brought lichens and fungi to feed Deva and maintain his strength. They wove themselves into his hair to give him such comfort as they may. The blanketed Psukhe in shadow to keep him warm when he slept.

The human prisoners, after their initial fear of the strangers gradually crept closer. They brought over choice titbits of food. They offered scraps of clothing and providing hands to hold Psukhe down when his thrashing threatened to injure him. They whispered together but never spoke to Deva. They tried but he was too lost within his own mind to listen.

On the third day the fever died and Psckhe lay in a stupor, his body trembling with occasional tremors which ran through it like ripples on water. For the first time his breathing was deep and even and he seemed to be at peace. Deva was taut as a bow. He searched his friend’s face and body for a sign, any sign of which way the battle had turned. There were no red lines under his skin. He was pale and cold. There were no claws erupting from the ends of his fingers. His lips were neither blue nor black. How does one know when a man has become a demon? Deva fingered the short dagger at his belt uneasily.

Time passed although no one was sure precisely how much. They knew that the Queen would come soon. None knew what she would find when she did.

Deva was distracted when the end came. He was not looking at Psukhe when, without sound or warning he rose gracefully to stand tall and straight. He was clothed to the hips in his hair which writhed about him as though it were caught in a swirling wind or was made up of myriad tiny snakes.

Startled beyond measure Deva rose to his feet. He was shorter than Psukhe by at least half a foot and he looked up into the familiar eyes which he immediately saw with a sinking heart and shattered soul were not so familiar any more. The red bands that had encircled the irises had enlarged to swallow them whole so that there was no blue left at all. The flaming eyes glowed with baleful fire and shed a sinister light onto the curling lips.

The expression in the red eyes was one that made Deva shrink back. The smile did not slip from the sweet red lips as they parted and whispered.

“Why do you shrink from me Deva? Do you not love me? Is that not what you said? Do you not love me still?”

The voice was a hiss and it chilled Deva to the bone. He shook his head and backed away as the thing that had once been Psykhe advanced on him. Terrified he allowed his body to dissolve into shadow and he heard Psukhe laugh. “Hide from me if you must, my friend.” The word ‘friend’ was a distinctly unfriendly sneer. “You cannot hide for ever. We have history you and I. We were to be lovers were we not, that is not impossible still. My Queen is not a jealous consort. She would not gainsay me my pleasures.”

“I would rather die than sleep with you now.” Deva spat as he plunged his dagger into Psykhe’s back. Except Psukhe wasn’t there any more. Moving faster than Deva could follow Psukhe spun and twisted, grabbing Deva’s wrist and forcing the hand that held the knife to hold it to his own throat.

Gasping and wondering what had happened Deva found himself in Psukhe’s arms. One was wrapped around him pulling him close against him. The other was holding his hand, crushing it, preventing him from dropping the knife.

“Please...”

“Would you beg me, My Lord? Surely that is beneath such an exalted personage as yourself.” Psukhe lowered his head and whispered into Deva’s ear, so softly that the elemental himself barely heard him. “You are my life. Trust me.”

Stunned Deva went stiff and Psukhe threw him away, flinging him to the ground. He retained the knife which he looked at with a curious expression on his face. “A faery weapon.” He mused before he crumpled it like paper in his hand and dropped it to the floor.

At that very moment the bolt of the door flew back and the door swung open. The four guards took up position and the Queen slunk in. Today her hair was piled on the top of her head with tendrils artfully curled around her face. It was encircled by a band of gold encrusted with diamonds bigger than walnuts. Her body was oiled and clothed in brief strips of jewelled fabric that bound her breasts and loins but covered nothing more than was absolutely decent. Not that the Queen was decent and it showed in her eyes.

As soon as he saw her Psukhe dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Smiling broadly the Queen hooked one clawed finger under his chin and lifted his head. When she saw the glowing red eyes the smile became hot.

“You are so beautiful. I had not thought that anything could have added to that beauty but I was wrong.”

“I live to serve, Your Majesty.”

“Yes. You do. I wish you to please me.”

“In any way you wish. Name your pleasure.”

“Kiss me.”

Gracefully Psukhe rose and took the Queen into his arms. Without hesitation he pressed his lips against hers and sought access with the tip of his tongue. At the same time his hands roved over her body, gently stroking the skin on her back which, even though it was blue and distinctly demonic was soft and supple.

The Queen shuddered and pulled away. “All in good time, my love. This is no longer any place for you.” She flicked her eyes to Deva who still lay weeping on the floor. “Deliver your message elemental and hope that your Queen does not send you to oblivion for it.”

Linking her arm with Psukhe’s the Queen swirled and led him from the room. Just before he left he cast a glance over his shoulder at Deva who stared after him, utterly shocked until the door closed. The moment the lock clicked into place he melted into shadow and vanished.

The Queen led Psukhe up through the levels of dungeon, through the living quarters of the palace to her private bed chamber. Although she posted guards at the door they were more to keep their privacy than for protection. She was utterly confident in her power and knew with no doubt that Psukhe was now utterly under her control. The red eyes were as much evidence as she needed. They had never failed her yet.

Once in the chamber the Queen insisted that Psukhe bathe to cleanse himself of the stench of sickness and the cell. She massaged fragrant oils into his skin and laid him on satin cushions on a low couch while she stroked his body and murmured words of lust. All the while he smiled and gazed at her with adoring eyes.

Finally, panting with anticipation she took him by the hand and led him to the enormous bed. Lying back against the silk pillows she drew him down beside her. For a while he let his long fingers play with the soft skin on her breasts and bell before raising himself to straddle her. Looking up she felt as though she were looking into the face of a God. The red eyes still glowed and the translucent hair floated out around him. A God or an Angel, and Avenging Angel.

The thought made her uncomfortable and she brushed it aside. “Take me my love. Take all of me I am yours.”

“Yes... you are.” He purred and there was something in his voice that terrified her. Before she had time to utter a sound he bent forwards and kissed her on the lips. The kiss sealed them and to her horror she couldn’t speak. She struggled but he was too strong.

“Are you wondering what’s going on? What I’m doing to you and why?”

Maintaining the haughty expression and with fire crackling over her hair and sparking in her eyes she nodded.

“Well... I seem to remember you telling some time... a long time ago... that you would be disappointed in me if I did not fight you. And so I did.” His eyes, hovering above hers blinked and the fire died, clear blue reasserting itself as if he had switched on a light. Her own eyes widened as he smiled. “And I won.”

Raising himself sinuously but not so far as to allow her an inch of movement he called “Deva.” And the shadows gathered.

“You called, My Prince.” He said joyfully, far more solid in this place where there were no wards t prevent it.

“You delivered my message?”

“I did, My Prince. Even now your mother’s forces amass before the gate.”

“Are they hidden?”

“Completely.”

Psukhe turned back to the Queen. “I am going to let you go and unseal your lips. Then you will give the order to open the gate.”

With blazing eyes she shook her head. “Very well. They I shall take your head and assume your position and I shall open the gates.”

Her eyes widened even further and she considered her options. Finally she nodded, defeated. “Make no mistake My Queen. One false move and your head is mine.”

Slowly Psykhe withdrew and stood at the side of the bed. The Queen too rose and glared at him with hate filled eyes. He smiled pleasantly. Raising one finger he touched her lips and she immediately hissed.

“I will crush you to powder, you viper.”

“If I am venomous it is because you made me so.”

“How do you know that I will not betray you now that I am free? What can you do to prevent it?”

“This.” He said simply as the red glow returned to his eyes and he reached out so fast that the hand was a blur. Grabbing her wrist he squeezed until she cried out and begged him to stop.

“What have I done? What have I created?”

“Nemesis.” Psukhe purred, leading her to the consul from which she could communicate with the guard posts. “Give the command.”

The Queen reached out her hand to touch the panel but before she did so she spun. Taking Psukhe by surprise she held him, as he had previously held Deva, although not so gentle.

“I should have known.” She hissed, pressing her venomous claw to his throat. “When the elemental tried to stab you, you let him live. Any true demon would have obliterated him.”

“Live and learn Your Majesty. Never let your loins govern your thinking.”

“Never again.” She pressed the claw deeper so that a drop of blood, pearlised and shimmering like mother of pearl welled up and ran down his neck. Psukhe chuckled deep in his throat.

“Fool. Do you think your venom frightens me any more? I have beaten it once and I can do so again, far more easily this time. I am immune to you bitch. Do my bidding or die.”

Now there was no doubt that he was a prince. With eyes as cold as ice, rimmed with fire he commanded and she obeyed.

But she was a Queen and obedience does not come easily to one such as she. Once again she reached for the consul only to spin away at the last minute. Only this time she lunged for Deva. Startled he tried to shift but the Queen’s power held him in human form and he could not escape her.

“Let him go.”

“That would be foolish of me. He is all the weapon I have to wield against you. You have fought my venom and won... can you be so sure that he would do the same?”

“No. I can’t. And you know that I would never take that chance.”

“Then you will yield to me.”

“I yield to none... save the one you hold.”

“Then...”

“Then I am left with no choice.”

Startled the Queen had no time to wonder or to think. The last thing she saw was the cold blue eyes turn to fire and the slender body blur and then she saw nothing but blood and fire. If she had been watching from the outside she would have seen Psukhe spin and leap for the long silver sword that lay across the consul table. She would have seen him raise it and swing it with such precision that it severed her head completely before stopping millimetres away from Deva’s terrified eyes.

Released from the Queen’s spell he melted and reformed as her body slumped to the floor.

Psukhe let the bloodied sword fall from his numb fingers and looked at Deva with dazed eyes. “I think perhaps that I am more demon than I thought.”

With a sob Deva threw himself into his arms and they held each other, holding on tightly until the shadows lengthened and others used them to reconnoitre the situation. Now that the Demon Queen was dead her wards had failed and there was nothing to prevent the faery overrunning the palace. As soon as they realised this the guards stormed the queen’s bedroom to find Psukhe awaiting them holding her gory head aloft.

The law of demon kind demands that he, or she, who takes the head of a man, or woman, took their place and station. This extended to their royalty and meant that Psukhe was now the Demon King... at least for this race and kind. Although at first they were shocked the guards knew their place and immediately fell to their knees renouncing the Queen and acknowledging Psukhe as their king.

After clearing the bedroom and displaying the Queen’s head on a pole outside the window as evidence of the change in title he was ready to sink onto the bed and sleep. However it was not to be, not just yet.

Without preamble the doors were thrown open and elemetals of all kinds spilled into the room. Psukhe groaned inwardly. His mother was the last person he wanted to see now. With a sigh he forced himself to stand erect facing the door.

The Faery Queen swept into the room, the hem of her silver white dress floating around her feet. She stopped before her son and gazed into his eyes. Raising her hand she cupped his chin and tilted his head to look deeper.

“Show me.” She commanded.

Obediently he complied and red fire flared and spewed from his eyes. The Queen’s eyes widened and other’s audibly gasped. Unsure what would happen next the Prince blinked and his eyes regained their crystal blue colour.

After a moment pause the Queen, shockingly, pulled her son into an embrace. He hissed at the gems encrusting her dress dug into his naked skin. Resting her cheek on his hair she whispered so that none but he could hear.

“My son. I thought I had lost you and I have. I lost the child you were but have gained the man you have become. I am proud.” She held the stunned prince close for a few moment more and then released him. Shocked by the uncharacteristic display of affection from his mother he was further shocked a moment later when she sank to one knee and bowed her head.

“All hail to thee, most glorious and terrible Prince of the Fey, Lord of the Aethers, Demon King.”

© 2010 Nephylim

Story Discussion