disclaimer : I do not own Ghost Rider. Nor do I own Mazikeen, or any other multi-universe character I have decided to incorporate in this schizophrenic fic.

foreword : Maybe I'm way out of line here. Ghost Rider is such an intriguing concept, a decent comic book, but at most a mediocre movie. And yes, it's the movie I was mostly inspired by here. Wes Bentley made Blackheart into this beautiful creature (even if he was forced to say the tackiest lines), and it intrigued me. Oh, and yes, I've made the unholy mixing of Marvel and DC comics. For those of you who know who do not know who Mazikeen is, she is Lucifer's lover in The Sandman and Lucifer series by DC comics. I'm borrowing her for this. Just go with it.

Come like shadows

Part One : As Heaven Sang

"The Emperor of the Universe of pain jutted his upper chest above the ice - If he was once as beautiful as now he is hideous, and still turned on his maker, then well may he be the source of every woe!" - Inferno, Dante Alighieri

Hellfire is surprisingly cool to a demon's touch, it feels a bit like how cool water would feel on a mortal's skin. Mephistopheles trailed his fingertips along a fiery wall, his eyes closed, mouth slightly open, deep in thought. He was still in his human form, stuck in the cumbersome smallness and tightness of a man's body, wondering how he was going to make his grand entrance.

He'd made up his mind to come in his true form, although he imaged the looks of some people if he had come as a man. The stares and whispers around the hall, "What's gotten into him, anyway?"

Nodding to himself, he transformed back to his true form, huge and rubicund, the man everyone was expecting. The man everyone knew in hell.

Today was a grand occasion, one of those ironic times when the denizens of hell gathered in delight for a feast, to break bread over spilled blood.

Today happened to be the day one of Mephistopheles' sons was to be married off to a Countess of the Netherworld. She was beautiful and nubile, a popular demoness and loyal subject. The girl would do when it came to marrying one of his children.

Readying himself, he couldn't help but feel there was something ominous just on the horizon.

---

Mazikeen gazed at her reflection in the water. She looked as she always did, lopsided and imperfect, and that was what was expected of her.

Days like these were always bittersweet. Her eldest son was to be married. She was so proud! But, at the same time, she was losing him and would never get him back.

They were to celebrate, and she would, despite the sadness inside of her.

Sighing, she made her way to the banquet.

---

The hall was filled to the brim with Hell's highest courtiers, all gossiping and murmuring, one huge social body.

Mazikeen scanned the hall for someone she knew, and her eyes fell upon the man of the day.

There was Be'elzebub, happy and grinning, his huge wings spread across his back. Mazikeen made her way to her son, moving through crowds of demons.

"Zebub?" she said, standing next to him.

"Mother! How have you been?" he turned to her, his sharp teeth showing in a smile, "It has been many months!"

"Yes, it has." she nodded, giving him a quick embrace.

Be'elzebub left and went on greeting guests, laughing, smiling. The boy was a rowdy one, but Mazikeen had never seen him so happy.

Ah, the wonders of young infatuation, she thought sadly, remembering those millenia ago when she had first become a concubine in Hell - long before Be'elzebub's birth anyway.

Mephistopheles sat in a throne at the front of the ceremony. Of all days, this was one to speak to him.

She walked to his side and whispered in his ear, "I never thought I'd see this day."

Mephistopheles grunted, "Yes. Our son has grown."

It was strange to hear those words. Our son. She never stopped to think that her sons also belonged to him, but in reality, in this patriarchal society, they belonged more to him than her. It was was odd to think they had created them.

"Mazikeen, why don't you sit down? I will give the speech soon."

Curtsying she went to her table, sitting down and being quiet unless someone close by chose to talk to her. Be'elzebub was scurrying around, shaking hands and embracing strangers, and presenting his new bride whenever she happened to be nearby.

Not much later, Mephistopheles stood.

"Sit, my guests, sit and feast."

The guests took their seats, all reaching for food and wine, speaking as they shoved food into their mouths. A Duke was next to Mazikeen, and while he spoke to her, she could not make out a word, since his mouth was full of bread and his speech was fast anyway. Sighing, she merely took a glass of wine.

Mephistopheles had called Be'elzebub up, his hand on his son's shoulder.

"It's been long in question who my son should be betrothed to, I and believe that he's found the perfect match. Rangda is a fine young demoness, and it's my pleasure to have them joined."

The crowd cheered and hollered in approval, leading to the grin on Be'elzebub's smile growing bigger.

"I'm also quite pleased that now my son had joined the Patrons of Hell. As a married man, he can finally have as much political power as is allowed him. As for my daughter in law, she too shall join the Matrons once her children have grown and been married themselves. Celebrate, my subjects, a Prince of Hell has been wedded and we have added greatness to our ranks."

There was more cheering, and saluting, and toasting. That was, until there was a sound at the doors.

They swung open fast, before anyone could really see what was happening. A man stood in the door frame.

Everyone turned to see him, still in his human form, at the door way. Be'elzebub was the first to remark, with a large smile on his glossy lips.

"Blackheart! My dear half brother, I am pleased to see you could make it to the banquet of my union!"

Be'elzebub went to him, wrapping his arms and wings around Blackheart in a display of brotherhood and good faith. Blackheart cringed at first, not expecting the contact, but hugged back.

"I would not miss it." he said somewhat quietly, only for Be'elzebub to hear.

Mephistopheles could not believe his eyes. Blackheart hadn't been home in so long.

"My son?" he said, walking towards his two sons, his eyes on Blackheart.

"Father."

They embraced in an awkward yet oddly affectionate moment, Mephistopheles smiling, "I have missed you, Blackheart. It is good you came." he backed up and took a look at him, "Now, come, show us your true colors."

Blackheart nodded, changing instantly into a blue skinned beast with red eyes and spiny thorns. Mephisto nodded in approval, turning around to face the reception.

"This is one of my younger sons. He has been away for a while, but has returned for the night."

The reception all smiled in approval and bowed to the Prince of Hell.

Mazikeen bowed too, raising her eyes to look at this new prince. She had met him once before, many many years ago, when he was still young. She had heard of this one. He was Mephisto's favorite. How could she forget?

Blackheart. That name had crossed Mephisto's lips many times when he complained about how none of his children respected him. She had heard it when he spoke admonishingly to Be'elzebub, and saw the hurt on his face when he was compared to a superior, absent younger brother. The other place she had heard that name whispered in gasps and giggled in any place the women gathered, the young noblewomen telling of his erotic journeys among their beds. Blackheart, yes, without knowing him she knew him.

The hall returned to it's noisy disposition, the guests quickly forgetting about the newcomer. Mazikeen grabbed for her drink, concentrating on the reflective surface of the wine instead of the demon who was walking their way.

"Ah, Duke, I see you're well," he said to the Duke next to her. He slurred something at Blackheart, who nodded, "I see."

He turned to look at Mazikeen, "And might I ask who you are?"

"Oh, I," she gulped down a mouthful of wine, "I am Be'elzebub's mother."

"Oh?" his mouth crinkled, "So you are one of my father's concubines?"

She nodded, "Yes. Yes I am."

There was an empty seat at the table so he took it, and it just so happened to be adjacent to her.

"I and Be'elzebub were born around the same time," he said to her, "But he is older than I. He was made the usual way too, and I was not."

"So I assume you shall be wedded soon, too?"

"I -" he paused, "I have no time for a concubine."

"Well that's quite interesting, because it seems every other man has too much time for them." she said, taking another gulp of wine.

She didn't have much time to pay attention to Mephisto's other son, as there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Asmodai, her younger son.

"Hello, Mother." he said softly.

"Asmodai? How are you?"

He shrugged, his eyes cast down, "Fine, I suppose."

Asmodai was a small demon, small framed and thin, his skin was the color of rubies and his hair was the color of sand. He wasn't handsome like Be'elzebub, or outgoing, but he was intelligent and showed and interest in tradition.

"It's been ages," Blackheart cut in from across the table, "Since I've seen you, half brother."

Asmodai looked up at Blackheart, "Blackheart, yes. How are you?"

He grinned, "Quite well."

"Well," Asmodai said to his mother, "I'll be going. I'll talk to you later most likely."

Once he left Blackheart scoffed, "So he's yours too? It's easy to forget he's Be'elzebub's brother. So torpid."

Mazikeen glared at him, "I'd rather you'd not insult my son, if you would."

Huffing she rose and went to seek out new company. She found it in a Countess, a shrill, outgoing woman.

"I see you've made friends with Blackheart." she chuckled.

"Friends? No, not at all. He's an arrogant bastard."

"Oh, that's what they all say." she said, "That's what they say until he gets in their bed. Then they change their tune real quick."

"Well he's not getting in mine. That's reserved for his father."

The Countess rolled her eyes, "How many wives does Mephisto have? When was the last time you shared your bed with him? Perhaps you should seek out a lover, Mazikeen, it might do you good instead of waiting for that old man."

Mazikeen sighed and rubbed her forehead. How she hated these events.

The night drew to a close and the guests began to stream out. Only a few remained, and among them were her two sons and him.

"You again." Blackheart said when they crossed paths.

"And you."

"Might I walk with you?"

Mazikeen was about to head to her chambers and he could tell, now following her.

It wasn't as if she could truly say no. He was a prince of Hell, if he wanted to walk with her he could.

"Fine." she murmured, as he followed beside her.

"I know my words might have been - harsh," he said, "but I am hard on all my brothers. It's only my nature."

"That's fine." she said, shivering as they made their way down the corridors. He emanated cold from his body, and merely standing next to him chilled her.

Suddenly he grabbed her wrist, his hand was freezing and she screamed from the cold. She had no idea what he was doing, but he was staring at her, and had her wrist is a vice like grip.

"Mazikeen, you -"

He was cut off when from behind him Mephistopheles boomed, "Keep your hands off her, Blackheart."

Blackheart turned and quickly dropped Mazikeen's wrist, "Yes, father." he said, casting his red eyes down.

"Goodnight Blackheart," he said, "You can go to your chambers and remain there."

Blackheart bowed, but only after casting a glance at Mazikeen. Swiftly he made his way down the corridor to his own chambers.

"I'm sorry about him, the boy has no manners." Mephistopheles began, "I'd suggest you be wary of him. I'd suggest everyone be wary of him."

She nodded, "I see. I will in the future."

Mephistopheles smiled, "I have missed you, Mazikeen."

"As I missed you."

They both knew what was coming, and Mazikeen happily followed him to his chambers.

Even though she was so happy to be in his arms, she didn't know why she could only think of him. Of Blackheart.

---

Deep in Texas there is a little ghost town known as San Venganza.

This was were Blackheart presently found himself, shuffling through the remains and ashes of the town.

Such sinners. Such greatness.

The contract was practically of legends, but he was determined.

Yes, he was going to succeed.

In fact, he was going to succeed in more ways than one.

Mephistopheles would lose everything.

Everything.

---

So ends part one. Reviews always appreciated.