Prologue: The Arrangement
The fire crackled, as the serpentine man took a sip of a dark substance, a drop running down his chin. He watched the fire dance, green flames leaping out at whoever dared to step near it. The man sighed contently, as he finished the ruby liquid, licking his chin with a long forked tongue. All was serene; it seemed, well, save the trademark screaming of the damned. This was Hell, after all. He watched the soft green lighting of the fire illuminate the dark stone walls of the castle, as soft footsteps accompanied by the signature short stature, and batwings of a serving demon.
He frowned, as the footsteps grew louder, accompanied by a high-pitched wheezing, when a runty little thing, colored dark crimson, bony wings sticking out from its back, mustard yellow bug-eyes squinting, as it bent over panting, clutching a crinkled paper. He waited, staring at the creature, anticipating for it to catch its breath, say whatever it wants, and then rid of it. He didn't want any of Azazel's minions wandering around the place for too long.
"Y-your Grace," it squeaked, as the man cringed at its irritating voice. "Lord Azazel sent me here all the way from the other side of Acheron to give this to you!"
"I thought we were at war," he mused. The demon shook its large head. "Well," it started, "We are, however Lord Azazel grows weary of fighting, as his son is turning fifteen, and," it trailed off, as the man looked at it.
"You have a child, correct, Your Grace?" it asked, looking at him, waiting for confirmation of the aforementioned child.
"And what if I do?" he said cautiously. Azazel probably kidnapped the boy, with threats of murder, to end the war.
The demon breathed a sigh of relief. "Lord Azazel- well, read it for yourself, Your Grace."
The man took the letter, scanning the entire thing before looking back at the messenger.
"Azazel, the same Azazel that broke my ex-wife, and that has constantly threatened my son and I? Is proposing an arranged marriage?! Between my son and his?!" howled the man, his booming voice echoing down the halls.
The demon squeaked, "Yes, exactly that, Your Grace." it said, terrified.
The man stroked his scaly chin. "Not a bad idea, I suppose," he mused. Turning to the demon, the man slammed the letter into its crimson, and very nasty grime-encrusted claws.
"Tell Azazel that I accept his proposal. We'll have our sons be married by March 21st, spring solstice of next year!" he declared.
The serving demon nodded, "Yes, King Pythagoras!" it screamed running out into the stony halls once again.
Pythagoras smirked. "Well played, Azazel. Well played." he said, thinking aloud.
"How will I tell Nagisa?"
(a/n)- Cross-posted on Wattpad! Same username.