The royal dance had proceeded without any significant trouble. King Matthias welcomed everyone and predictably announced the dance was a farewell to Lady Viserra Devitt and her cousin, Lord Qimir Snow. However, despite the questions and curiosity, Matthias never stated which kingdom they'd be sent to, especially after the recent news of King Athelstan's death spreading throughout the country.
At dawn the following day, the planned journey home for the demons took place with them Viserra and Qimir. The horseback ride to the boarders had been filled with quiet conversations, particularly between Kane and the Undertaker, who seemed content to mumble between themselves. Bray engaged in a polite discussion with Qimir only to offer a distraction from what would await when they arrived in the underworld.
Finn, Viserra, and Aleister, however, remained silent. The three were peaceful as they witnessed the sun rising over the distant mountains, painting the morning sky with pastel pinks, oranges, and yellows. No words were exchanged between them, only silent thoughts of what awaited them in the future dawning ever closer.
Finn's thoughts were clear enough; he'd gone to the mortal realm to retrieve his queen, in that he'd succeeded, but the hope of finding the woman he'd call his own had not been met, almost haunted him the longer he dwelled on it, even more so when he slowly began to understand what would one day lead him astray.
Aleister's thoughts were the same, crystal clear, although his centered around Viserra—the queen she was meant to be and the life that awaited her now. She had made her desire clear: She wished to remain human even if those she served as queen to were near immortal. He didn't have the heart to tell her the truth about what waited, that her path had already been written, and four more would rise from her power. He didn't have the courage to tell the brave woman; her fate had already been decided for her, and she would become a true demon one way or another.
Upon reaching the boarders, each dismounted their black steeds and returned them to the stables in which they had been rented. Finn had opened the portal before the group, his icy eyes glowing yellow once more as he did so. Kane and the Undertaker were the first two to enter the red glimmer portal; Bray followed them, beckoning for Qimir to follow as if welcoming the young lord to the new life he'd be granted and the family he'd be a part of.
"My Queen," gently spoke Finn, offering Viserra his arm as a gentleman of old would upon her acceptance. He led her through the portal, distracting her from the swirl of colors as the landscape changed around them. Gone were the distant mountains and grassy plains; in their place were carved caverns thick with shadows and lit with flames.
Aleister followed silently behind the pair, a smirk appearing upon his lips as his icy eyes found the small welcoming party. Damian towered over the Hardy brothers, Nikki Cross, and the Bella Twins. Each of them offered a small bow to Viserra as if they instantly recognized her as queen, like another, to pass through the portal before alerting them.
"Come, my queen," softly worded Damian, speaking to Viserra as if she were a friend he'd not seen in some time, the same way Aleister had done over the week of being in her company. "I'll show you to your chambers," he offered like many, sensing her uneasiness. Like all queens before her, she was not prepared to be queen and likely had no desire to be one.
With uneasy steps to start with, Viserra began to follow the taller demon. At first, silence bred between them, but that soon gave way to quietly worded questions and softly spoken answers. By the time they reached the carved cavern with the chambers, Damian had explained as much about the hierarchy and power levels in place. Even though neither king nor queen were born demons, they were all human once, as tradition stated.
"Is someone hurt?" asked Viserra, hearing the agonizing screams of another echo through the caverns again. She soon brushed her midnight braided locks over her shoulder, turning in the direction the wailing was coming from. Her previous task of getting to her chambers was forgotten now.
"No," replied Damian with honesty, his eyes focusing on the door the latest recruit had been put. He'd arrived in the underworld world the night before, weak and on the verge of death; in his last moments of grasping onto hope, he'd begged for life, calling upon Balor to be saved from his undeserved fate. "Not anymore; he's recovering from his transition; his screams are of anger, not pain. A demon of rage," explained Damian, knowing rage was rare for a demon. Most were calm and collected. Those of rage were wildcards, a weapon of mass destruction if need be.
"May I?" asked Viserra as she approached the bolted door. In an instant, she'd forgotten she was the queen, at least in name. Instead, she acted like the ordinary woman she had always been. Hesitantly, Damian unlocked the door, pushing back his regret long enough to open it as the metal hinges groaned in protest. With careful steps, the mortal queen entered the darkened room; her eyes adjusted to the darkness for a little while.
Slowly, she made out the contents of the room: a fireplace carved into the wall, smoke still rising from the ashes, a pair of armchairs in front of the fireplace, and dresses on either side of it. A generous-sized wooden bed pushed against the furthest wall, at the end of which a figure hunched over and shivered, his clothes torn and smothered in the dirt, his hair wild and messy, a dark shade of blonde. The man was skin and bone beneath the torn fabrics of his clothes, cuts and bruises scattered could be seen too, broken bones and lacerations, burns and marks around his wrists.
"What's your name?" gently called Viserra, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet she knew the broken man had heard her; his mumbled words had stopped, as had his shivering. "My name is Viserra Devitt," she added just as softly, stepping closer to him, fearless where others would have cowered away.
"My queen," called Damian, following Viserra's lead with a calm voice as if he could sense she was trying to settle the tormented man. He observed how the newly turned demon reacted as she stepped closer, his crazed, icy eyes focusing on her as if she were something he'd never seen. At the same time, the man made no attempt to move away from her as he had done others who had visited since his transition.
"Dean," replied the man, quiet at first, so quiet it was as if the shadows had spoken. "My name is Dean Ambrose," he repeated as curiosity shone in his icy eyes. The taller demon, the one who had turned him, had called her queen, yet he could see she was no demon like everyone else. "You're human?" he questioned as if to understand the oddity.
Viserra didn't word a response, merely nodding. Although she did step back upon Dean, practically jumping from the bed and moving toward her with haste, he didn't do anything to her. He just stopped before her, watching her closely as if to determine if she was real or a figment of his broken mind.
"What happened to you?" softly questioned Viserra, her voice sweet as her sapphire eyes shone. "Who hurt you?" she asked. She knew from Finn those turned had to ask or consent to it; most demons were born from pain and suffering, and most were tormented in some form or another.
"I was accused of something … I … I can't remember what," muttered Dean, noticing Damian had disappeared; another had taken his place, a man with multicolored dreadlocks. "The lords deemed me guilty … I was sentenced to the stocks … no one listened when I pleaded my innocence when I … begged for mercy," he concluded, squeezing his icy eyes shut as his rage began to build once more. The same rage he'd unleashed just hours before on the same people who sentenced him to die in such a barbaric way.
"The first to rise," whispered Jeff when Damian reached his side again, this time equipped with fresh clothes and a bowl of warm, soapy water. Instantly, Damian glanced at Jeff, confused at first, but the truth of the words soon hit him.
"Which is he?" asked Damian, placing the bowl on the furthest dresser, the clean clothes folded neatly to the side. Concern briefly lit his eyes as Dean moved between Viserra and the others he knew to be demons as if protecting her from the world surrounding her.
"The Vengeful," simply replied Jeff, "The first of the horseman and our queen's loyal protector and friend," he added, a shadow of a grin appearing across his lips. Many had made predictions of which horseman was to rise first; nearly all guessed the defiant prince would be first; none, however, predicted the vengeful man would come before the rest. "She'll be a force to be reckoned with when the Seven are bound to her. Even Balor will regret crossing her when Devitt truly rises."
"Finn said she wasn't who he expected …" started Damian, unsure of his words at first. His eyes mirror his uncertainty as he watches the dark-haired queen interact with Dean, noting how gentle she is. Dean seemed far calmer with her than with the violent outbursts others had been receiving when they got too close.
"All kings dream of love, just like any other," replied Jeff, his voice void of emotion as the words passed through his lips. "Our queen Lady Devitt is, but she is not the wife he searches for. Both are destined to find another. Like our first queen, she does not need a king to rule, but Balor needs her," he added, his eyes clouding over once again. Seeing the path that awaited and the consequences that always loomed in the shadows.
A sigh escaped Jeff's lips upon seeing someone all demons wished had come to a journey's end. Giuseppe Snow, the man who seemed to desire power like no mortal before him. It saddened Jeff what he saw, but he knew there was little he or anyone else could do to stop it. Aleister's slip-up had gone unnoticed for the most part, but Finn's display of power had sealed the fate of fourteen, including Devitt.
"Snow Falls seals seven as the forgotten weapon. When the black is taken, fourteen falls. Balor faces punishment from the kings of old … one far crueler than any to come before," worded Jeff, a sense of sadness taking over him, confusion also present, although he didn't voice the course of it.
"Will she bring peace?" asked Damian, his attention remaining on Viserra as she brought the humanity out of Dean or at least reminded him of it.
"When her mortality is stolen, six centuries of peace awaits," admitted Jeff, his eyes adrift from her momentarily as if guilt had taken over him. "War breaks again when the last Iseult Heir falls at the hands of Snow," he adds. "Resentment follows as three are abandoned and forgotten; the horseman defies him to bring them home again. True peace can be achieved only when the blood of innocence is shed, and the family curse ends."
"What is she doing here?" asked Finn, concern rife in his voice. He'd gone to welcome her and his queen properly, yet upon entering her rooms, he was met with empty chambers.
"What everyone else failed to do," replied Damian with a surge of confidence. "He surrendered to her and realized she was still human despite being our true queen," explained the taller, more menacing demon; his voice remained calm, however, tainted with pride.
"Do not underestimate her," worded Jeff, his voice serious as his eyes locked onto the king. "When Devitt truly rises, she will not forgive those who betray her, as others have done with past queens."