Summary: The servant is a ghost in the background, always watching, always listening. She knows far more than people suspect, and keeps her feelings to herself. This is the story of Ialessa, maid to both the Glassred and Venomania households.

Disclaimer: Setting belongs to mothy, Gakupo, Luka, Gumi, KAITO, Miku, and IA do not belong to me.

Queen's Quornor: This was what first sprang to mind when I got this idea. The guilt and pain, the fear of being left alone. The Venomania character always struck me as being a very lonely man, and I believe that is the root of his deal with the devil. So long as he had all those women, he could pretend they loved him. He could substitute sex and blind obedience for love and acceptance. He would not be alone, ever again. His death at the end always breaks my heart, because he sold his soul for nothing. He is even more alone at the end then he ever was before the trade. He may have epitomized the sin of lust, but I think his problem was more of loneliness than desire.

Slave of Lust

Something is different about this lady.

I meet her at the door while Sateriajis finishes dressing. As per his orders, she is to remain in the entry until he arrives, at which time she will fall beneath his spell and join his harem. But something is off. This lady is certainly pretty, with long golden curls and huge blue eyes. Her figure is slender, not very curvy, and she is garbed in an expensive blue and white ballgown. She is holding her hands to her chest, as though attempting to keep her heart from pounding out of place. Her eyes are darting about the room in a nervous fashion. I have seen many women act in this manner since becoming my lord's servant, yet something...

I am not sure what it is that I do not like about her. I have never felt this restless about another lady before. But something keeps nagging at my senses, and I'm not sure what -

Ah! There is my lord now!

He strolls lazily down the corridor, his violet eyes glowing in the light of the torches. His lips are curved in a welcoming smile, and once again I am struck by how handsome he is. My lord Sateriajis may not have me in his thrall, as he does the other ladies, but I can never deny how the mere sight of him affects me. Those beautiful eyes flick in my direction, then rake over the new arrival's satin-clad body. His lips curl even further.

"Go prepare some tea, Ialessa," he tells me. "We'll take it in the parlor."

"Yes, my lord." I depart the entry, keeping my misgivings to myself. His orders are not merely to prepare tea and refreshments, but also to plump up the pillows and cushions on the sofa in the parlor. Whenever a new lady arrives at the manor, Sateriajis often claims her there, in a setting both neutral and intimate. Noble ladies tend to relax more before the fire, even after they have fallen beneath his spell, and commoners enjoy the novelty of being in a room most often associated with aristocracy. If there were any reservations left in a woman's mind prior to a few hours in the parlor, they are always gone by the time I am called to guide the new arrivals into the basement. The only exception has been myself.

I still have water left from luncheon. Sateriajis prefers that I keep hot water ready at all times, in case someone comes seeking entry into his harem. He lulls them with tea, and as their guard falls so do their clothes. Then they are his, and I busy myself with menial tasks until he rings the bell. I think today I shall wash the windows until my lord summons me to remove the new lady from his prescence.

As I spoon the tea leaves into the strainer, I hear a pained cry from the corridor. My heart races when recognition strikes. That was Sateriajis!

The teapot abandoned, I hurry to the entry. My lord and his newest lady are silhouetted against the open door, bathed in golden sunlight. It takes a moment before my mind registers what lies before me.

My lord, crumbling to the floor. The lady, now revealed as a young man with blue hair, standing above him with a blade in hand. His golden wig is clutched tightly in his other fist, and his face is twisted with hatred and jubilation. The dagger glistens with blood, slowly slipping down the length of the blade.

"I'm taking her back," he snarls. "You stole her from me. But now she's free. I hope you burn in Hell, you bastard!"

I shrink back at his words, covering my mouth with my hands. It never occurred to me that these women had people still looking for them. The aristocrats I served never seemed to care when their wives and daughters went missing. Even Gumina's family, the noble Glassreds, gave up when told that there was no trace of her. I had assumed the same to be true of the other women.

As my lord falls upon the floor, an outburst of sound arises from the stairwell leading to the basement. Women's voices, all crying out in astonishment and dismay. At first I think they are protesting the harm done to our lord, but as the door flies open and they all begin streaming out, I realize such is not the case. None of them spare Sateriajis more than a glance as they race towards the sunlight. Mikulia flies into the arms of the murderer, crying as though her heart has broken. He drops the dagger and wig, wrapping her in his embrace, and guides her from the manor. One after another, all of the women vanish into the light.

I can only cling to the doorframe, one hand fisted tightly against my mouth. It is all that is keeping my screams from escaping. My tears, however, flow freely down my cheeks to soak into my dress. This cannot be real. It cannot be. There has not been enough time...

Only one woman remains. Gumina, my former lady, has been slower to leave than the others. She strides from the basement, her naked feet slapping against the tile in a steady rhythm. I am awarded no acknowledgement, which is to be expected. She only took notice of me whenever she needed me, and I imagine she holds no kind thoughts regarding my role in her life here. As always, I remain beneath her notice.

But as she steps into the light, she hesitates. She glances back towards our lord, and he stretches a hand in her direction, trying to keep her with him. "Wait!" he chokes. "I forgot...to tell...you..."

She is gone.

His hand falls, the fingers scrabbling at the tiled floor. The sight wrenches me from my stupor, and I crawl over to him, laying a hand against his back as I kneel in his blood. "My lord!"

His head rolls to the side, allowing him to view me with one tear-filled eye. "Ialessa..."

I grab for his hand, raising it to my cheek. My fingers grip tightly, trying to keep him with me. "No, you cannot die! You cannot!" My voice catches as it all spills out; I have to tell him before it is too late, even though it is a sin. "I have not told you that I love you yet!"

I press my cheek harder against his palm, wishing there was more time. Praying there is something, some way to save him. Hoping to stay with him just a little longer. "I've always loved you, even as a child! You cannot go! Please," I sob, watching my tears fall into his blood."Please don't die. Don't leave me!"

His fingers flex against my cheek, the merest of strokes. "Ia-!" The rest of my name chokes off in his throat, and he shudders. As the spasm passes, his hand relaxes. The light fades from his eyes.

I hear a scream, as though from a great distance. It sounds like a wounded animal. One of the women, perhaps?

It is only when I feel the rawness of my throat that I realize the scream came from me.

His hand remains in mine, still warm. His handsome face is frozen in a rictus of agony and fear, as though his body knows what awaits his soul. I reach out with trembling fingers to brush the hair from his unseeing eyes, and his tears smear against my digits. He was crying at the end. Had he finally realized the full extent of his exchange?

My eyes burn with the salt of my tears, and as I blink away the pain I notice his blood in the sunlight. There is a purplish cast to it, as though something else was mixed into it. Is this an effect of the deal he made with the devil?

Or maybe...

I reach for the dagger. It is heavier than I thought, and as I raise it before me I notice a colorless film near the hilt, at the base of the blade. Most of it is concealed by my lord's blood, but a bit still gleams in the sun. Poison?

I fling the thing as far as I can from my lord. It flashes as it clatters onto the walk outside, and I must avert my gaze. It is far too bright.

My lord - my love - is dead. What is there for me now? If I return to the Glassred mansion, I am certain to be held accountable for running away and keeping my lady in captivity. Such crimes will result in my hanging, especially when it is revealed that I helped keep so many other women here. Gumina was the highest in status, but I doubt she alone will accuse me of being the duke's accomplice. I took them to and from his chambers, cooked their meals, emptied their chamberpots, and mended their dresses. I cared for Lukana when morning sickness overwhelmed her, and held back Mikulia's hair when she became ill between meals. They will surely remember me, and blame me for any wrongs done to them during their stay. It will not matter that I was kind to them, nor that their time in this manor was not unpleasant. Sateriajis and I cared for them, and we were never unkind. They were members of his harem, and he saw no reason for cruelty. It pleased him to treat them well, and I followed his orders willingly.

My life has been forfeit since I first stepped within the Venomania mansion.

All of those women have people waiting for them, families and friends. Mikulia had a man willing to kill for her. As for myself, I have had no one since my mother, the Glassred chambermaid, and my father, the head butler, died of illness when I was young. I have spent my life in service to first Gumina, and now my lord Sateriajis. What is there for me now?

I am alone.

As is my lord.

My gaze fastens upon him as I realize this. Loneliness drove him to trade his soul, but it was more than his desire to attract all those women. He also lost his parents as a child, to the same illness which stole my own. He clung to Gumina because she was the only person willing to be kind to him, and even she turned away from him in scorn. He would try to hold her, kiss her, and she would always taunt him with claims that he was but half the man her other admirers were. I am certain that he did this in part to show her that he was more than they, a better man than she ever dreamed.

Now he is all alone in Hell, burning by himself. There was not enough time to give him memories to give him comfort, and he is without friends or family.

I know it was his choice, and yet...

Nobody should have to be alone.

There was poison on that dagger, and his blood has spread across the floor. There is more than enough.

I dip my free hand into the purplish pool, raising it to the light. His blood glistens against my skin, shining with a vile light. If I do this, I am damning myself alongside him. Is it worth it? Do I really want to do this?

I stood by and did nothing as that man killed him. I helped him keep those women here, took them to and from his bed. I abandoned my duties to the Glassred family, and did not even try to rescue my lady. I did nothing to stop him from condemning himself to the flames. I never stopped Gumina when she mocked him, never stood in his defense in all the years I knew him. I left him to face his pain alone, because it was not my place to help him.

I love him.

His blood is salty upon my tongue, and the poison adds a bitter spice as it slides down my throat. I scoop more into my palm, mindful of his hand within my lap, and swallow the mixture. More and more, until the tiles are smeared and swirled with purple and crimson and my lips are stained. My heart races, losing its rhythm, and it becomes harder to breathe. It is working.

I stretch out beside him, clutching his hand tightly in mine. As the spasms rack my body, I muster the strength to press one final kiss to his slack mouth. I will soon join him in Hell, and he will never be alone again. Even if we suffer for all eternity, it will be enough just to be with him. I cannot shield him, but I will share his torment.

Now, let us burn as one.