Thanks to a few folks on tumblr (StupidHarpy and Cell113 in particular) I finally dug into the idea I had for Succoria and Doviculus's lives. Mostly their would be 'childhood' if you can call it that.
I also wanted to tie pity more into the narrative, since Riggnarok's pity led to a romance later in Succoria's life. While her own pity gave her a rival she could never shake. Crossposted to my AO3.
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When they were young, before he was wrapped in the binding rites of blood, brittle bone and teeth, before she was bound as emperor in the blood of Ormagoden- they were as close as any could be in the Coil.
Succoria remembered an amused sort of fondness towards Doviculus. She pitied him, pitied him enough to protect him from the other young demons looking for a meal. He had been so small then, moist oily skin, sunken eyes, broken tucks and curved bones. He was disgusting, he was bare as any demon could be. His horns hadn't even grown in yet. Those as weak as he were usually eaten at birth.
He took a fondness to her in turn, she wasn't sure if it was out of fear or need he became her shadow. The wet lump of a demon trailed in her wake, greedily accepting anything she gave to him. Succoria remembered the stink of desperation wafting from his slick battered body. At some point, she had thought of eating him while he slept, but he wouldn't have been worth the effort. He was one of her many followers. Someone to keep close and use when the time called for it.
She remembered his claws uncertainly clinging to the loose fabric she wore around her waist when they traveled. She would always spit and hiss, slapping him away.
Weakling, wretch, pathetic waste.
The anger in his eyes had been enough for her to laugh at him. He would survive, he was worthy of it after all. If he did not shy away from her anger, he could be worth keeping.
They tussled, bellowed with the roar of the great beast, feasted upon the weaker and lesser than them. He was never her equal in any regard, but she wouldn't call him a waste of flesh any longer. He stayed at her side, came at her call and proved handy with a weapon. He was useful, useful enough to keep. Succoria would need him for her ascent. Her ascent into ruler of the realm.
He grew, not quite as quickly as she did, but he slowly became something. He slowly unfolded, curved bones being straightened with metal and leather. His teeth growing in anew and body being realigned to what the Titans wished it to be. He never cried, he never clung to her again. But he shook with ragged breaths and pained sounds. She could smell the desperation wrapped away in layers upon layers of latex.
When she crushed the Emperor, took the beasts throne and wore his skull as a crown upon her brow- he approached. He did not simper, he did not whisper or hide. He stood, lips curved into a smirk.
"Succoria." He spoke her name loudly, before he bowed. "Bow to our new Emperor!" The hollowed fortress shook with his voice, bringing other demons to their knees.
Only then, did she realize she had made a mistake in letting this wretch live.
