The Demon was, indeed, true to her word. Eighteen years of freedom. The only caveat being that it started from being born.
Not... quite what you expected.
Life as a baby went by as a blur, your brain simply not developed enough to do much more than cry, sleep and drink milk. You'd like to say that you amazed everyone with your skills at walking, but it still took several months, and the praise lavished upon you was more from affection than genuine awe. It was all so very confusing, names and faces blurring together. They spoke your language, but you simply couldn't understand it all. About a month after your first foray into walking, you finally realized that the face you had seen constantly was the same person. Dressed in black, you reckon she must have been some kind of maid. Shortly after that, the hazy jumbled words they said finally started to make sense, and one word was repeated a lot more than the others. With a smile, you realized that it was your name.
The surroundings were, surprisingly, quite familiar. After overhearing the servants talk, you come to understand that you've been reincarnated as a child of the Blumenthal family, daughter of the Earl Constantine Blumenthal. The décor and structure are as lavish as you remember from your time as a slave. After all, the man who enslaved you seems to have a similar status.
The rage from your previous death still burns bright, but you can't bring yourself to hate your surroundings. The servants seemed well treated and they all seemed to have a soft spot for you, constantly playing with and giving gifts to you before you could even talk. Your father and mother seemed busy, but they did pop in at least once a day to play with you. Your mother was a handsome woman, her sharp features and long blonde hair making her look quite dashing, if nothing else. Half the time she returned clad in armour, stopping only to take off her gauntlets so she could play with you.
Your father had an ever-present grim, serious look on his face, but in his deep blue eyes you could see the hard man that he was melt away whenever he looked upon you.
It's not an exceptional infancy, but it's a happy one, with your every need taken care of. You relearn much, speaking, walking, running, and even something you had lost a long time ago - Joy. As you grow, you're introduced to the finer parts of Noble culture. Meeting your peers, playing around, riding horses, learning the way of the sword, practicing magic and so on. As it turns out, you've got quite the pedigree. The daughter of a Knight and an Earl meant that you were constantly assaulted by play dates from various other nobles with children around your ages, not to mention the shared lessons you and the other nobles took together.
It's there where you truly shined. Your memories of old served you well in everything but your equestrian pursuits, and your teachers and parents alike praised you as a genius in most of the scholarly arts. You may have been a slave, but you did everything you could to educate yourself enough to get a job once your freedom was finished. And without that damnable collar crippling your magic, you find that you can actually do a fair amount!
Most children could only really learn a single magic trick corresponding to the element of their soul without ascending the thaumaturgical barrier, but you were in a particularly strange situation. This has all happened before, in your old childhood, despite the heavy collar that made magic painful you still knew a thing or two. But now you've been given the opportunity to learn a second school on top. Your original, and your new magic.
The day you revealed your magic was the day everyone's attitude towards you changed. Light Magic was exceptionally rare, with the commoners saying that it came from a blessing of the gods themselves. Now, you know that obviously isn't true, but it made a great cover. You leant into it, giving everyone a smile and acting gentle whenever the topic of magic came up, healing scrapes and bruises. You were Anastasia Blumenthal, the little angel of the earldom, known to be compassionate and wise beyond her years. It was a mask you wore well, but it did fatigue you at times.
It was exhausting, hiding your true magic, but you found outlets. After all, the brighter the light, the darker the shadow. Whenever you used your light magic, you felt the rising urge to indulge in your hidden Darkness magic. A cursed element, capable of so much, but perceived as evil. Should you have revealed it, you'd almost certainly have your magic restricted and handed over to the Mage's association. The woodland critters on the estate made for excellent puppets, and more than a few times you tried your hand at some light 'suggestions' towards the maids. You couldn't help but to grin every time they complied with a strange request, all with that glassy look in their eyes. Few could claim mastery of either Light nor Dark, and should you focus, you could get both. It was definitely interesting, and you studied your hardest to try and gleam the basics to advance your magic as quickly as possible.
All those fools, they had no clue who they were messing with. Anastasia, Emissary of Dusk, the Final Dawn. Ready to cut them down with a thought.
The moment you grew beyond the confines of a small child.
However, Magic wasn't the only thing nobles were trained in. In tandem with the magic lessons, you were subject to physical exercise, learning the way of the sword. It was fashionable for ladies to get an education in combat nowadays, ever since the Knights Lilium proved themselves defeating the Dread Dragon of Arstagon Mountain and restoring order to the border provinces. Allegedly, that's how your Mother managed to bed an Earl as a knight, so sword ladies are responsible for your birth in a way. Once a slave, you knew that sometimes you had to fight, be it to defend yourself or to acquire the food you needed. Your sword skills themselves were on the same level as the rest, but while the other children were nothing but kids, you found yourself with the killer instinct that helped you dodge and avoid strikes. In the body of a growing girl, you could have even been a dancer with how gracefully you moved.
Who knew that years of scrapping for scraps would result in such elegant footwork and a keened killer instinct?
And finally there were your studies. While you had a bit of an advantage, keeping that advantage was the result of hard work and effort. And as you grew, you had to pour more and more time into things. Not just mathematics and the sciences, but managing estates, finances, and learning from your mother to navigate what she called the "pit of Vipers " - the noble courts filled with cutthroats who would gladly ruin your reputation for a laugh.
Yet, there was only so much time in the day...
You had trouble balancing your time, but you managed something workable. Whenever your constant forays into the mystical realm got the better of you, you went to master the sword. There was an odd... tingling feeling in your heart whenever your Mother watch you spar with her old sword instructor. He was a handsome man, and as you grew in age and skill, you started harbouring a few feelings. Ill fated feelings, sure, but the dude was fit!
Your skill with the sword and magic gave you a bit of a reputation, with your mother's embarrassing nickname sticking. She called you "Her little Valkyrie", after the winged servants of Septimus who smote down evildoers. A bit ironic, considering your penchant for dark magic, but hey, whatever works.
When you heard the nickname you...
You tried playing it a bit smart, actually. You leaned into the nickname, buying some fake wing adornments for the dress armor you wore during training or whenever someone important came over. It became a fun joke between your friends, and some of the other girls even started wearing wing-themed necklaces.
But you had to work in order to keep that perception of you accurate, and so you spent no shortage of time putting in extra training, ensuring that your view as the Valkyrie was kept intact. Your skill with the sword rose, and you grew up much more fit and active compared to most of your peers.
As you grew older, your overprotective parents eventually started letting you out into the town outside the mansion. It may have been a trial, but at one point you were sent through the slum district in your carriage. The guards protected you from any issues, of course, but a big turning point of your childhood was when on a journey you spotted a boy lying face down in the snow. Two ruffians stood atop him, stomping on his fingers as they tried to rob him. He was still breathing, but when you saw him you demanded the carriage-
You leapt from the carriage, wooden sword in hand, and beat the ruffians half to death. You were a kid, but you WERE trained by one of the finest and sexiest swordsman to ever live. They had knives, but a sufficiently hard hit with a wooden sword was still painful. The guards joined soon after, arresting the two while you healed the boy.
Few knew that as you healed him, you also planted hooks into his mind, little compulsions to make him return to your meeting place. For a few weeks after, you snuck out with some snacks under the guise of helping him, only to toy with his mind, seeing what you could and couldn't do with your dark magic.
Eventually, he claimed his parents found jobs and he had to move away, but you still gained a lot from him regardless.
At the ripe age of 14, you were still the Valkyrie to most people. It was then that crushes started to form fast and wild among the young nobles around you. Most of them were boys, but you distinctly remember one in particular. After a long, hard session of sword training over at the Baron's estate , you drank from a pitcher of water, using a towel to wipe the sweat off your forehead. After taking of your armour to escape the heat, you were left with just your bra on as you drank down the water and wiped yourself down with a towel. It was then that a girl about a year older than you approached nervously. Her messy, unkempt hair made you aware of who she was in the instant. The baron's reclusive daughter. She must have been watching you from her room!
"Um..." she murmurs, doing her best to not stare right at you. "Lady Anastasia, I've come here to confess... I've always held a certain... fondness for you."
The girl's name was Mila, daughter of baron Nassau. And for a time, she was your perfect little secret. You'd vanish off after swords practice to visit her in her room, and just enjoy her company. There were some hugs and kisses, some indulging in relatively chaste groping, but nothing overly serious. From her, you learned just what it meant to be in a relationship, not just... taken for your master's pleasure.
Though your curiosity soon turned dark. You made use of your Dark Magic to slowly twist and turn Mila's crush on you into something far darker and obsessive. It wasn't true control, it was just... enhancing some of her feelings, while turning away the others. Being praised, worshipped by her awakened something dark inside of you, and you experimented constantly to see how far it could go.
Unfortunately, the girl just wasn't very interesting. When your sword instructor, Sir Romulus, was set to rotate to another noble holding, you were let down to see Mila planning an assassination. Deciding that she was more trouble than she's worth, you cut the compulsions and lowered her love for you, before dumping her and leaving it behind you. A warm memory of the past, and plenty of experience to boot.
When you hit 15, you were brought along to one of your father's Hunting games. The fall of the demon lord a thousand years ago stopped the creation of new monsters, but some particularly annoying breeds kept on popping back up. But they were mostly weak - little creatures like Goblins or Gnolls that fell by the hundreds. The Elven Guard were mainly for ceremonial purposes, but still, it was very cool seeing the tall, almost alien beauties up close.
You were considered old enough to undergo hunting by yourself, confident that someone like you in full armor could handle a few goblins. Your mother participated in a hunt when she was just a bit over your age, and was well known for her fantastic performance. And so You roamed around, killing what you could, but often stopping by to assist other groups with healing and a friendly smile.
The contest didn't end with your victory. You killed a fair number of Goblins, but your score was hampered by the fact that you spent a lot of time roaming between groups. There were many youngsters like you who tried their best to win glory, but their recklessness cost them. You went from party to party, rescuing those who had waded too deep and healing those who had injuries.
While you made it third overall, mostly on the account of forgetting to collect trophies, few cared about who the winner was, instead singing the praises of the Valkyrie who descended upon the battle field to heal the wounded and slaughter the evil. All a plan to enhance your image.
And while you were concerned about how you would be perceived, your mother did let it slip that she couldn't possibly be prouder.
For a while, you kept your Wind magic a secret, until you learned enough to finally fly. You were well known as a being blessed with powerful magic, but your sword skills and radiant beauty combined with the slight glow your skin seemed to radiate had some suggesting that the earl bedded a genuine Valkyrie instead of a knight. Flight was very exhausting, but you kept practicing. Not needing to take to the ground just made you feel... well, better than the rest. Because you were, truth be told.
Around your sixteenth birthday, you pushed yourself too hard flying, drunk on the sensation of freedom that it granted you. The unparalleled sensation of floating through the sky was unmatched, until you pushed yourself just a bit too hard and came tumbling down.
Falling through trees was not a pleasant experience, and you found yourself with an unfortunate sense of deja-vu as you bled in a crater of your own making. Your magic reserves low, you began to panic, especially when the sounds of creatures in the dark began to stir. For a while, you worried that you were about to die, that you had miscounted your years, but thankfully, luck was on your side.
An ornate carriage came by, stopping as it came beside you. A fairly handsome white-haired man left the carriage, heading towards you with a smile. He wordlessly held his hands over your body, chanting as Water Magic began to encircle your body, fixing up the cracks and aches and the maybe punctured lung. As you cough out the last of the blood, the white-haired man smirks. "You should pick better landing spots, oh great Valkyrie."
He held out a hand, helping you onto your feet, but as your skin connected, you felt something stir within your core. An icy cold sensation, resonating within you and him, a tendril of sensation worming its way through your body and coalescing in your lower belly... One you haven't felt at all in your new life.
He doesn't seem to notice, but the strange feeling brought back memories of your own grudge. Shaking away the concussion, you look upon your saviour and-
The strange sensation you feel has a name to it, and you finally place where it's from. The bargain you made on the precipice of the abyss, it feels almost as if this guy has had something similar done to himself. But you can't imagine what for.
"T-thank you for the assistance," you tell him, doing your best to remain formal. "I truly appreciate the help."
The man simply smiles. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just heading into the town on business and I just happened to notice something falling from the sky on my way there." Did he really not feel the same touch of Demon upon you? He's not even flirting that hard. Must be married.
"In that case, Sir, I will endeavour to pay you back for the inconvenience." You thrust your blade into the ground and take a knee, bowing before him. " A single favour, to be called upon whenever you desire. This I swear, upon the name of Anastasia Faith Blumenthal."
He looks at you, seeming almost amused "Indeed. Well then, Anastasia. My name is Estaban. And maybe one day I'll come and collect."
Blushing slightly, you rise up, and seeing that you're okay, the man walks back to his carriage. He offers you a ride, but you decline. Right now, you need to think. His mark reminded you of your duty.
Your life has been great, but you've only got a few years of it left.
As you take the long walk home, you can't help but to start to dread what is to come.
Another year flies by, and throughout it you can't help but to be satisfied. You were given all that you wanted; a second life, your hard work coming to fruition and even the first hints of love with your childhood crushes.
As you hit your seventeenth birthday, having truly blossomed into a beautiful Valkyrie, you could truly say that this new life was one worth living. Through all the mundane worries and trails of your new life, the spectre of revenge clung to you still, a miasma that underlined everything you did in the form of your dark magic. And as you grew closer to your age, the thoughts in your head began to grew. You lived a good life, yes. But the knowledge of just how far there is to fall, knowing the disparity, the suffering and how throughout all of it, your saving of a boy was considered charitable instead of the right thing to do. Living a life of luxury is fine, but if it comes at the cost of the Sacrifice you once were, then…
Then this world deserves whatever the demons have concocted for them. Even as you accept the presents from friends and feast with the family, that underlying thought never truly leaves you. One more year until the demon comes to collect. You're so lost in thought with worry about what you're going to do on your last year that you hardly pay attention as your maids and servants dress you up in a beautiful silken dress.
The Seventeenth birthday is considered a special day in the Empire of Cilicia, it is when you are considered an adult. Girls are expected to marry soon, boys to finally take up whatever role they were attempting to fill, and it was customary to meet other nobles for your event. As an earl, your father had no small amount of pull, so what would have been a relaxing birthday was an exhausting affair, meeting, shaking hands with and introducing yourself to hundreds of other people while committing their names to memory. The "Valkyrie Squad", your group of friends known for their wing-shaped necklaces, are all here to support you, but there are just so many people to meet...
The faces and names all blur together while you brood about your final year, only for it to be suddenly cast aside by a cold feeling that makes your heart skip a beat. For a moment you wonder if it is a demon who has come to collect, but as you look up you notice a familiar face. The man who saved you a year ago. Estaban. This time though, he looks a bit worse for wear. The cold feeling is stronger, and you can't help but to stare as you finally understand why he feels how he does.
He too, has made a deal with a Demon, and the time is approaching for him as well.
The slightly awkward meeting of the eyes the two of you share brings its fair share of muttering, from both friends and curious noblewomen. The chattering intensifies as the two of you both awkwardly look away from one another. This man is actually relatively attractive, but there's an off-putting malaise about him, as if sick or dying. It almost reminds you of an ill animal about to perish; you can tell that there was once majesty but now it's started to fade.
"I'm terribly sorry Sir Estaban," you murmur, trying to look away from his silver eyes, the sharp intelligence within obvious even to you. "I didn't quite catch your title."
The silver haired man lets out a soft laugh. "Oh, it's no worry," he says, voice upbeat but still slightly strained. "I'm sure you've been meeting a lot of new people. I'm a… well, I suppose you could say that your father was a bit like an older brother to me. I am Duke Estaban Hesse. "
Oh shit, a Duke. In terms of nobility, under the Emperor of Light lies the 4 Dukes, followed by the 8 marquesses and the 12 Earls, with viscounts, Barons and Landed Knights below them. Your father is an Earl, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, but this man is one of the top 5! But he's a friend of your father's? How old is he? He only looks in his late twenties, but... No, it's unbecoming to ask someone's age.
You give him a dainty curtsy, just like you've been taught. "It is my honour to formally meet you, sir Hesse. I am Anastasia Blumenthal, firstborn daughter of Constantine Blumenthal."
He waves his hand in front of his face, laughing softly. "No need for the formalities, my dear. I'm sure you've got better things to do than entertain an old fox like me, I'm just paying my respects to an exceptional young woman as she comes of age. Happy birthday, Anastasia." He offers you a slight bow and exits, leaving you to stare at him as he goes. The rumors continue, but really, you're just perplexed as to what a Duke is doing here. Does he have business with your father?
Your nightly jaunts through the mansion were well known. Often you left to spend time in the library to practice magic or out in the training yard keeping your perfect body in shape, but on this moonless night, you were compelled somewhere else. Keeping you up was a tiny voice you could barely hear, stoking your curiosity. So at the dead of night, just a few hours after your birthday, you escaped your room under cover of night, stepping through the silent halls. As you approached, the voices got louder and louder, until you were finally at your father's office, the door held slightly ajar.
Curious, you peaked inside, only to pull back and choke back a gasp as you see your father,in his chair with a glass of wine, conversing with the duke.
"...Costin, I know you love her…"
Your father pinches the bridge of his nose. "I know. She's young, but a lot of her peers are married already. The way she's roughed up some of the boys in her training sessions has gotten me no shortage of marriage requests, but are you sure?"
The duke sighs, shoulders slumping wearily. "I have three years at most," he murmurs, looking at the ground. "I've tried everything, every treatment, even magical healing can't undo the Dragon's Mortarium. I've done... things I'm not proud of to extend my life, but I'm nearly my limit."
Your ever so stoic father's composure actually cracks at that, and you spot a look of utter anguish on his face. "Est…"
"I've come to terms with it, Costin," he replies, waving away the concern. "I'm ready to meet with our maker. But... I have too many responsibilities. With no heir, with my brothers all gone, all that awaits us is a bloody succession war in my duchy. We both know the kingdom can't handle that."
He lets out a depreciating, bitter laugh. "Perhaps this is what I get for my... for our wild younger years, eh?"
Your father mulls the wine in his hand, staring at his companion closely. "They were certainly interesting..."
Estaban cheers up at that, gently punching your father on his shoulder. "Oh, don't be like that. Let's not even pretend like YOU weren't the one starting everything off."
The two of them share a laugh at that, reminiscing about times gone by. The levity fades, and the stoic silence soon takes root once more, until your father speaks up.
"It just feels like selling her."
"You know I'd never do anything to hurt her," the duke says softly. "I'm not like that bastard Montgomery. If she has you to fall back on as regent until the heir comes of age, we'll avoid bloodshed."
There's a long pause, and your father sighs.
"... When do I break it to her?"
The duke steps forward and places his hand on his friend's shoulder, bringing him in for a tight hug. "Whenever you're ready. I know this is hard, but you're the only one I can trust."
Your father pinches the bridge of his nose as he sinks deeper into thought. "A year," he says. "On the day of her eighteenth, we'll do the ceremony.."
It was then, peaking into a dark room on a moonless night that you learned of your arranged marriage, fated to land upon the day of the demon comes to collect.
If you didn't know better, you'd say it'd been planned.
Your father breaks the news to you the next morning, and you have to try your best to hide your surprise. But honestly, you had expected something like this eventually. You grew up knowing that your marriage wouldn't necessarily be one of love, but of status. Even someone as inexperienced as you could notice the way your mother's hands remained just a little too long on the bodies of servants, as well as the "special friends" from the Knight Lilium who she often kept company in the night and WOW how did you not get that sooner.
Love, on the other hand, was entirely in your own grasp. It wasn't uncommon for Mistresses to pop out after the heir was secured in an arranged marriage, nor was it entirely unexpected for some incredibly close "friends" within the nobility to spend the nights together "reminiscing".
You try very hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke. You try very hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke. You try very hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke. You try very hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke. You try very hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke. You try very hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke. You try very, VERY hard not to think about the relationship between your father and the duke, despite the fact that they're super close, constantly touch one another, have cute nicknames for one another and had an apparently wild and hectic youth.
It's more... how do you take it? Part of you wants to just resign yourself to destiny, what with the demon's bargain looming, but...
Honestly all things considered, it could be worse. Your father's totally-not-lover doesn't seem to be a bad man. He's rich, one of the most respected men in the land, helped to slay a dragon, kind, and decently funny at times. No wonder your father was so taken with him.
His time is short, but so is yours. Hopefully, you can make something beautiful together. Your father is strangely overjoyed at your acceptance, almost suspiciously so. As you lie back, you think about your own time messing around with boys and girls. The time with Mila was fun, but did you prefer girls over boys? Or were you like your parents, who could stomach dealing with both?
As you lie back in your bed, processing the news, you think to what you want to do with your last year before your marriage. Before the Demon comes to collect.
You spend a bit of time researching your magic. Light Magic can do healing, but that's just a fraction of what it's capable of. After all, "Healing" is a very broad umbrella. You first caught wind of the spell from an erotic tale you read that was stashed away in the family library. Of how there were certain spells in the priesthood, of how some nuns knew a spell that would allow a woman to conceive with another woman.
From there it was fairly easy to track down a tome yourself and add that particular Light spell to your arsenal. It's just... healing yourself in a certain other way. Really, this is for your husband. Gotta make him happy before he bites the dust anyway.
It's so odd to think about a husband like that. And so you decide to ask the perfect person. Cordelia Blumenthal. Your mother.
You finally got the courage to bring the topic up in one of your lessons. Your mother helps your father run the estate, and so with the prospect of a duchy looming over you, she assists with learning the ins and outs of managing a territory. But instead of talking about monster protection, you instead bring up a topic very sensitive to your heart.
"Mother," you say, trembling a little with nervousness. "Uh... about the marriage..."
She raises an eyebrow. "You're not normally one to be nervous, dear. What's up?"
"Is it normal to be... you know... prefer the company of women?"
She pauses for a moment, before letting out a big sigh. "Ah. I see you've inherited some of my own... unique tastes." You nod, blushing all the while.
"Look, it's about time you learned the truth. Anastasia, I love your father. I love him with all of my heart. But... I'm not attracted to him. And he's not attracted to me." You quickly banish the intrusive thought about who tops between your father and the duke, and instead nod along, hoping your mother can finish off the explanation. "But there are certain... expectations, for a noble of his rank. We were close friends, and both of us needed a cover for our later years. One thing led to another and..."
You knew you were born out of convenience, so it doesn't really sting. "And the maids...?"
Your mother lets out a hearty laugh at that. "Oh, that's just me screwing around. A lot of the younger ones get curious about women, and when you're as dashing as I am, they're like putty in your-" She averts her eyes, coughing as she tries to change the subject. "A-anyway, if you're not attracted to him, then that's perfectly fine, perfectly normal. Having a child can be... an annoyance, but it's worth it for the freedom you get afterwards. And even if you dislike the act, it doesn't mean that your child won't grow up to be the strongest, cutest, best thing in all the land. " She gives you a kiss on the forehead, making you squirm slightly from embarrassment. After a moment you recover, finally catching on to one of the things he said.
You raise an eyebrow. "Freedom?"
Coredlia chuckles. "You wouldn't believe how much easier it was to convince my Sisters-in-arms to stay over once we had you. It was the perfect cover. If you and that Nassau girl strike up a 'friendship', nobody will look twice, you know?"
You think back to your first relationship, the secret tryst you had with the Baron's daughter. "You knew?" you ask, aghast. Coredelia laughs, slapping her knee.
"Honey, you practically sprinted away from the sword lessons and left her room an hour later skipping around without a care in the world - everyone knew, it's just that nobody cares when you're young." You hide your face in embarrassment. And you thought you were being secretive.
Deciding to quickly change the subject, you bring up child rearing and the lesson abruptly shifts to learning about raising your young. Your mother's close as she teaches you the basics, and when you're all finished the task doesn't seem nearly as daunting.
You spend your time learning, keeping in shape and doing all you can. It's a busy year, one filled with many meetings, getting fitted for dressing, beating up potential suitors who wanted to "save" you from the perverted Duke. It's chaotic year, but your mother and father are both so supportive. You understand more of their relationship now, finally understanding that while they're not in love, they still both love each other.
Your mental acuity is pushed to the limit as you learn everything there is about managing royal land, your power in magic grows yet further, your body refines itself even more. You live your best life. Nights spent flying through the sky, days spend sparring with the Knights Lillum your mother invites over, evenings spent close to your father as he imparts upon you the knowledge needed to rule.
The year passes in a breeze, but with your parents both helping you, it may have been your best so far. And so when it is time for your wedding, it is not dread that fills you, it is anticipation for the future. Even if the demon comes to collect, you'll manage somehow.
Optimism is the name of the game as you approach your wedding day.
Your white and gold dress, the colours of house Blumenthal, were a lovely contrast to the black and blue that go with the Hesse duchy. It was as if they were the canvas, serving only to illuminate your radiance. As you walk down the aisle, your father, dressed in his best, tears up slightly. The crowd is truly massive - the duke has no small amount of adoring fans and even some commoners are here to celebrate their beloved lord's marriage. Your Valkyrie squad were so supportive, giving all sorts of presents, even if some of them seemed a little... heartbroken the prospect of you getting married. The Duchy wasn't too far from home, only a day's ride or half a day's flight, but the distance is still a bit of a barrier.
Several other familiar faces adorn the wedding area, though one makes your heart skip a beat in absolute terror. It's all you can do to not scream.
Him. The cruel bastard who owned you, once upon a time. Even if he's grey and balding, even if he's older, you'd never forget that wart upon his nose, nor the cruel sneer that avoids his face.
"Avoid Earl Montgomery," your father whispers as he grabs your hand, noticing your discomfort. "He is... not to be trusted."
You do your best to keep that out of your mind, swallowing the distaste. Only now, you have a name. That old, smouldering rage climbs up out of your throat again, but you keep that curse buried within for now. Instead, you look around spotting more familiar faces. Your instructor, Mila, even some of the children you beat sideways sparring so long ago, have all come out to witness you.
You even spot the Emperor of Light, together with a beautiful woman you can only assume to be his wife. Her features are strange, with pale skin and slanted eyes. You'd heard rumours that he had married a foreign dignitary he fell in love with during a peace talk, but it's your first time seeing someone like that in the flesh. She's strangely alluring.
Trumpets roar as the band plays for you, legions of people clapping while you're walked down the aisle.
And then you see him. Your husband to be, Duke Hesse. He's... not looking as good as he did last time you saw him. There's plenty of makeup, but up close you can notice the dark rings under his eyes, and how he trembles slightly in the wind. His smart, dark blue suit is padded slightly to hide how thin he's become. Your father chokes up slightly at the sight, and you pat him on the back to comfort him.
Taking your husband's hand, the tow of you turn to one another and smile. "You look radiant," he says, giving you another one of those smug smirks.
"Not looking too bad yourself," you reply. You can feel not only the lingering presence of the demonic pact, but a slight trembling from his hand as you both walk up to the altar. This... This is it. You've reached the age of eighteen, set to be married. You stare at your husband to be's face and can't help but to feel strangely happy, despite it all.
The Priest of Septimus speaks the vows, both you and your husband repeat them, a binding contract in the eyes of the heavens.
To be married as husband and wife, joined as one. For your family lines to become merged, for you to become Anastasia Blumenthal-Hesse. In sickness and in health, together forever. Well, not forever.
'til death do us part.
You place your hand on the ring, letting your magic shine through. His ring erupts into colour, the base blue dyed a swirling green and white, while your ring becomes interspersed with droplets of blue, like raindrops in a storm. You place the rings on one another - a little bit of your magic with him, and a little bit of him with yours. You can feel the pulsing of his strange, unfamiliar magic, and you know that as long as you wear it, some part of him will live on.
The pair of you kiss to rapturous applause, the cheering almost deafening as you remain. His lips are soft, and the Duke is gentle, as if touching a flower of glass, too afraid to push lest it crack. But truthfully, it's the other way around. You can feel the weakness in his bones, and a part of you wonders if he'll turn to dust if you push him too hard.
And with that, the two of you are joined.
It's strange, being married. You stand there at the altar for a bit, unsure of what to do. But it's at your husbands insistence that the two of you go to meet some of the guests. The ring, the little bit of Light Magic within, seems to alleviate some of the pain Estaban was in. There's a spring in his step, a genuinely healthy glow that almost convinces you that he's not terminally ill. Your worries are soothed by his magic, like a gentle shower of rain.
The two of you can get through it.
There s a certain radiance around the Emperor. His black hair and short beard give him a sharp look, and you notice that he's much younger than you thought, appearing around the age of your father. He and his line have an unbroken talent of Light magic, and you can feel yours pulsing as you and the duke head over to meet him. The crowd clears as the pair of you approach him. "Est!" he shouts, stepping forward and bringing the duke in for a gentle hug that lingers just a little too- no fucking way
Your husband hugs back, laughing weakly. "Glad you could make it, Lothair."
The Emperor looks your husband up and down, the joy fading from his voice as he turns deathly serious. "You holding up alright?"
Estaban shrugs. "Her light magic helps more than I thought it would. It's quite soothing, you sure she's not one of yours?"
The Emperor laughs at that, Est joining in. The jolly ruler wipes away a tear and turns to you. "And here's the lady of the hour. Congratulations, Anastasia. Congratulations to you both."
"Thank you, your majesty"
The ruler waves his hand in front of the two of you. "No need for formalities here," he says. "Your father, Est and I are old friends. It's a strange pairing, but I have to admit, you go together well. The hotheaded Valkyrie and her cool, collected husband? It'll fit."
Your cheeks flush red, and all you can manage is merely saying "I hope so." He's the freaking Emperor! What are you supposed to say?
"Didn't think you'd ever do it, Est," Lothair says, wistfully. "Septimus above, we had no idea-"
Your husband shakes his head, voice weary. "Stop it, Lorthair. It was random chance. We all knew the risk, and somebody had the short straw. I don't mind, truly. I've lived my life in full, there's no debt for you to pay."
"Even if you say that, " the Emperor replies, voice tinged with self loathing. "I can't help but to feel..."
"If you want to help, look after Anastasia, okay?"
The Emperor lets out a sigh in agreement, the two of them walking away together, leaving you alone with his strange wife. "The Curse of the Dragon runs deep into his veins." There's a slight accent there, but her mastery of the language seems very good considering she is a foreigner. "Men are so inconsiderate. Did you know?"
You nod, surprising the Empress. "Yes, I'm aware he doesn't have long..."
She pats you gently on the back. "When it happens, send a messenger to me. It's difficult to raise a child alone, I'll do what I can to assist."
She's willing to help you raise the child? How kind of her. You grab her hand, and your heart skips a beat as you feel that same cold tendril joining between the pair of you. If she notices, she refuses to say anything. "T-thank you, my Empress. "
She snorts rather un-empress-like. "Please, call me Kimi. I'm glad to help out whenever I can. You're a good girl, you don't deserve this. I don't know what my foolish husband was thinking."
Before you can continue, your husbands return, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, you're off to see his friends.
Your husband is a popular man. You learn half a dozen names this day alone, most of them close buddies who work in the Royal palace or on the duchy. Strong, smart subordinates leading cadres of knights or running the nation found in equal number. Most of them are clued into his illness, looking at you with a somewhat condescending look of pity. It... chafes, just a little. You've done so much by yourself, you're not a fragile little girl who's going to collapse without her husband.
But you can't bring yourself to hate them all. So many of them are so earnest, even the ones who look twisted. It's as if your husband managed to gather not just the best and brightest, but those with good hearts and a mind for justice.
It's a little reassuring to think that even if you didn't study properly, the duchy would probably be managed fine. Which only goes to show how much your father trust you, how high his hopes are for you.
You can tell your Husband's strength is flagging and the moon is starting to rise, so after exchanging a few more pleasantries, you and your husband (Gosh, it's so strange to think of it as that) head back to the castle. Your Valkyries wish you good luck as the two of you, arm in arm, head into your new home.
Your heart felt as if it was going to explode out of your chest. After all, this is when it happens. Y-your virginity taken on your wedding night. The part your Mother told you about.
Your every step is tinged with anticipation as you finally enter your room. You know exactly what you need to do here. He's a man in need of an heir, and you're the one to provide it to him. You stand still as you enter the lavish bedchamber, heart beating fast. You're unsure what to do, merely watching as your husband steps towards the bed
And collapses onto it, face first.
You yell in surprise, running over to him, only for a familiar, husky voice to freeze you in place. It's a sensual, deep laugh that brings back memories of a time long ago.
"Five years of life, in exchange for a single night as a conduit. A good deal for the both of us, it seems."
You turn to see the demon, Manat, slitting on the window ledge with the widest grin you've ever seen on a creature.
With the pale moonlight at her back, you can see the majesty of her huge wings. She looks... radiant, almost. You shouldn't be feeling this way for a devil, but there's a primal urge that runs through you as you look at the utterly beautiful demon.
"He thought it was doing the world a favour," she continues, grinning wide. "The last free demon, signing away her existence for a single night of carnal pleasure in his skin. He thought the restrictions were enough. No Bloodshed, nothing he considered a crime, nothing that would harm his duchy... I can't even do so much as 'touch' a mortal without their consent."
Her heels clack against the ground as she begins to step towards you, her hearty chuckle chilling you to the bone.
"And yet here we are. Hello again, Little One."
At first you think to bow, and in your panicked state you almost do it if not for the words echoing from nearly two decades ago. This... is supposed to be equal.
"Greetings Manat. I assume you've come to collect your boon?"
Her black lips curl upwards in a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. "Exactly, my petal." It's not like before, trapped in that same void. Here, she's… real; physical. The Demon has no concept of personal space, constantly walking closer to you until you're forced to take a step back. Again, and again, until your back is against the wall.
She presses a hand above your shoulder, and you can only marvel at her. She's a fair bit taller than most men even, and the difference in size is clearly apparent. But you agreed to this. It is what you signed up for. With your back to the wall and her so close, you can only breathe in deeply, waiting for what it is she's going to take.
As it turns out, it's your lips. You cry unintentionally as her mouth presses against yours, serpentine tongue making you squirm as you're kissed far deeper than any human should. You struggle for a moment at first, but as her hands begin to roam across your body, you find yourself melting into the kiss, knees quivering as the gentle Demon toys with you.
Septimus above, is this what the maids are like when your mother has her way with them?
After not long enough too long she parts, a vicious smile on her lips. "I'm incarnated through that fool over there. It's taken me so long, but I can finally do it. I can touch..." Her hand grips your waist tightly. "I can taste..." She plants a gentle kiss upon your forehead, moaning slightly as she does it. "And now, I can complete my duty."
Her hand presses over your stomach, and you let out a yell as that cold feeling of the curse you carry begins to glow, a burning brand appearing on your skin, shining so bright it's visible through even your gown. That feeling wasn't in the pit of your stomach - it was laid upon your womb.
"The manifestation of your curse on the world," she whispers, almost reverent. "By following the steps of the First Demon, however unintentionally, your curse has grown to equal hers."
The curse you've carried with you since your first death. The curse against the world that doesn't deserve to exist. When you focus on it, you see a flash of a woman; pale skin, with crimson red horns and black, feathered wings.
An angel sent to die fighting the darkness of the abyss, crawling free from the corpses of her comrades. Swearing revenge, cursing the world with her utter fury forevermore. - the first of the Demons. The thought comes unbidden, and you can't get it out of your head.
A sacrifice crawling from the pit, surrounded by the corpse of her others, determined not to die. And with her dying breath, cursing the world. You've followed her path, which would mean...
"And so, my darling," Manat purrs, pressing her body against yours, eliciting a moan. "Our creator used that curse to birth demonkind. And now, we have the world free of demons, monsters on the edge of extinction. So what is there to do, but to birth another Lord of Darkness?"
With her words, your mind's eye opens and the true form of your Curse becomes apparent.
[Trait Unlocked!]
The Curse of the Forbidden Fruit
The Fruit Borne From This Womb Shall Gather The Strength Of A Thousand Slain Demons. The First And Greatest Shall Receive The Halo Of Blood, A Testament To Our Creator. A New Lord Of Darkness To Reign Eternal, With The Power Of All Her Slain Subjects At Her Call.
Her finger caresses the brand, eliciting a moan as she shocks you out of your thoughts. "The last free demon and she who followed the road of the First Demon, willingly, through ignorance, joining together through the death-curse of the mightiest monster left alive. A tripartite union, my golden opportunity finally crystallizing."
She presses her lips against yours, once more, and you can't help but to melt beneath her ministrations.
"I wonder what we'll make together~"
You spare a glance to your husband, and although it's a major bother, you push Manat away. "I-is he going to be alright?"
The demon merely laughs. "The full might of a Dragon's Death Curse is not something so easily stopped, darling. Two more years and he'll crumble apart into dust. But don't worry, I uphold my bargains. He'll live. If you can call it living."
She forcibly turns your head away from your husband, planting another infernal kiss upon your lips that has your entire body burning with lust. "But enough about him, dearest. Tonight will be about us."
You spare Est one more look, then gulp. You can't resist this demon any more, everything is just screaming for you to indulge, and you can't say no, even if you wanted to. You've already agreed to this, after all. This is the boon you owe, even if your heart pangs in pain for a moment.
But at least it can be on your terms. You grasp the demon's wrists and press back against her, a passionate kiss catching her by surprise. Pulling away, you notice that to your delight the demon is frazzled, taken off guard by your sudden aggression. If this is how things are going to be... you're going to enjoy it~
"If this is your last night, let's make it memorable," you tell her, a lewd grin starting to appear. "I've learned a very perverted spell, and I intend to lose ALL my virginities."
Manat's white teeth glint in the moonlight as she throws her head back in laughter. "You speak like one of the succubi. Child, you were born for this. The demon snaps her finger and her outer clothes are gone, leaving her in just her underwear, sporting a sizable bulge. " Her hands caress your skin as she whispers out a promise. "I taught the circle of lust what they know, child. Try to keep up~"
After so long you can hardly contain yourself. This is what you need, this is what you promised. A boon, freely given. And today you intend to give it.
Her nails are like claws, cutting through your bridal gown and turning it into so much scrap while you rain kisses down upon her collar. You can feel the vibrations from her throaty purr as she sizes you up, clearly appreciating your huge assets and perfectly toned body.
"Like what you see?" you tease, hands roaming across the demon's body. She's curvy in all the right places, but right now you're a bit curious. The idea of a woman with a man's tool was by far the best part of that erotic novel, and tonight you're going to indulge.
Smirking, she pushes you to the ground, pulling free her rod as she stands atop you. It juts out far, around the same size as the one you've learned to create yourself, but from this position you wonder if you've gone too far. Completely red with a black head, the size alone make it seem intimidating.
With the bed being occupied, you're forced to use the floor. Not that it matters, you're so entwined in the throes of lust that any discomfort is minor at worst. Her finger brushes between your legs and you can't help but to moan. Your womb aches with desire, to finally fulfil its purpose, and the demon is all too happy to oblige. Dropping wet, you close your eyes and scream as your stretched open, maidenhood finally taken. Your eyes roll back in your skull as Manat thrusts forward, so overwhelmed that you're unable to do much but mewl. You're far too inexperienced to turn the tables right now, but when it feels so good you hardly even care.
Her hands grasp yours, lips joining together as the Demon slowly thrusts in and out, not wanting to cause pain. Her thrusts slow down but you need more, wrapping your thick, muscular thighs around her so that she gets the signal.
Thankfully, she does.
The demon speeds up, each thrust, hitting so deep that you see stars. Every part of your body aches for her seed, to make the contract complete, and the two of you moan into one another as it's finally consummated, the pair of you convulsing in climax at one. The all-consuming wave of pleasure washes over you, and for the first time in your life, a weight lifts from your shoulders. You can feel it. The seed has taken.
The demon above you smirks as she feels the same thing. "Congratulations," she tells you. "It's a Demon."
You breath deeply, trying to recover from the sheer satisfaction that roils through your body. But it's not over yet. Spending a moment to recover, you cast your light magic and resist a moan as your own nine inch flesh rod slowly grows from your crotch. Manat's eyes widen slightly at that, but she knows exactly what to do with it.
The hot, roiling passion between your loins refuses to submit, and you're only thought is that if it feels this good, no wonder men are so horny all the time. Mana's pussy is as tight as you imagined, her muscles milking you with every thrust. But you're incredibly fit, and so you lift her with ease, bending her over every table, the windowsill, the nightstand, ceaselessly breeding her as your cock drives her to climax after climax. Your use her horns as handlebars, revelling in her wanton moans as even the demon loses control. Your mastery over this spell is mighty, and you decide when you cum. Wiping away the sweat on your forehead, you give the demon a kiss on the back of the neck as you hilt into her one more time, screaming as she cums yet again.
"Had enough?" you ask her, smirking. You could do this all day. The demon, on the other hand, is feisty as she fights back.
"Oh... please..." she mutters between deep breaths "You'll be done in an hour, tops."
Somehow, you doubt that, Giving her a quick kiss on the lip, you and the demon lose yourselves once again, fucking all over the room with your wild, passionate lovemaking. She penetrates you and you penetrate her, an endless dance of sweaty, needy sex that lasts until the break of dawn.
The two of you breathe heavily, leaning against the windowsill as the first light of dawn approaches. The Demon lets free a hearty laugh, but you can't help to feel a little melancholic. "When I was young," she says, looking out towards the kingdom. "When Mother brought us forth, we thought we'd last forever. An eternal part of the world, our own slice of the Abyss ours for the taking. There were so many of my brothers and sister faster than me, more beautiful than me, more cunning than me... and yet they're all gone."
The sadness in her voice... the usual teasing, flirtatious nature is gone. Instead, she just looks wistful. "We thought we would outlive eternity itself, and yet here we are, almost extinct, and saved only thanks to one man's obsession with consuming the power of the abyss." You don't quite know what to say, what comforts to give. Her voice trembles slightly, and from the corner of your eye you spy a black tear falling to the ground. "I've worked towards this for years, but now... I'm scared." Her voice quietens down into a whimper. "I've done all I could, saved my race... but the terror still grips me."
Her hand wraps around yours, and then you see it. The rays of light piercing her body, parts of her dissolving into so much dust where the dawn light's rays touch her. "My Darling, I ask of you one favour. No boon can be offered, for I have none left to give."
"What is it?" you ask, watching in awe as the modes of her turn into twinkling sparkles. Parts of her fly off, the shimmering dust lighting up the dawn even brighter..
"Remember my name, if nothing else. Manat, the Last Demon"
You give her hand a light squeeze back. "I will."
The demon turns towards you, black tears streaming down her face, yet with the widest, most natural smile you've ever seen on her. The brought light of dawn rises, and the demon crumbles to dust, for a moment leaving behind only her black lips.
"Thank you."
The lips crumble, leaving you alone with the sleeping body of your husband and a single thought that occupies your mind.
You're going to be a mother.
