The Demon Lord’s Bride (BL)

The first thing was a jolt. It was followed by a gasp, and soon, Val's whole body was trembling. The sound coming out of his throat was the struggle of airways desperately calling for oxygen.

Val remembered it was hot the first time he took the Amrita. But this time…this time was different.

It was scorching.

And it was painful beyond belief.

It was like the entirety of his veins were blazed by ancient fire and being hammered by a spectral blacksmith.

It was so scorching hot that every time he tried to inhale, his lungs felt like it was licked by fire and filled with ashes.

Why? How was it possible to feel this kind of pain? His mind registered the way his circuit was being reconstructed and it burned. It burned so bad that his mind whited out for a while.

Until a sound called out for him.

"Val," a soft voice, a gentle caress; a cold that he sought. "Val, come back to me,"

Where did he hear it before? The cold reminded him of winter, of snow, of sneaking out and touching the coldness he wasn't supposed to enjoy.

And the voice. Who was it? His mind was so blurry, but he remembered that sweet, gentle voice. He remembered that he liked it, he liked it so much. The voice that was calling out to him when he fainted amidst the cold snow.

He didn't hate the snow, he didn't hate the cold. He could hear the sweet and gentle voice because of it.

But oh...why was it so scorching hot?

In a pain-driven delirium, Val reached out his shaking hand, and another cold one held onto him. Tears were forming in his emerald eyes, wetting the long, thick, fluttering ebony lashes. His trembling lips parted to call out in between choked gasps.

"N-Nat..."

The Demon Lord, looking over the trembling human, stiffened. The silver irises shook like rippling water, gleaming sharp with shock, with longing, with complicated feelings.

But he had no time to dwell on those feelings right now.

Hands, still shaking, gripped into the Demon Lord's clothes, clawing and scratching as if they were seeking for something underneath. A coldness, perhaps, or was it protection?

"Nat..."

It was a desperate voice. The vibrant, green eyes were glistening with tears, and they flew down the fair cheeks.

"It...hurts..." the voice was sobbing, choking on words and tears and pain. "...urt...Nat, it hurts so much..."

The Demon Lord pulled the trembling priest into his embrace. The man was hot, but he wasn't sweating. All the heat was trapped inside, as if there was lava flowing inside his circuit, mending all the broken roads it could find, melting the wall around the narrow passageway.

And there was nothing the Demon Lord could do about that.

He couldn't help cooling down the man, or else it might hinder the process. All he could do was take the shaking and gasping figure inside his embrace, transferring some of the coldness his skin had.

"It's okay, you'll be okay," the Demon Lord whispered sweetly. "You can do this, you have to stay awake, sweetheart, just endure it a bit more, mm?"

He kissed the sweltering temple, and tightened his hold. It was like embracing a fire elemental, the heat felt burning even in his skin. The hands on him gripped even tighter, and a more desperate sound came out, quieter, like it took everything the man could do just to utter a single word.

"Nat..."

The Demon Lord inhaled deeply, harshly, with a frown and pressed lips. "I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here..." the hands gripping him grew even tighter, although the sobbing sound also grew that much louder. "Don't think about anything, yeah? Just focus on staying awake, I'll be here with you,"

He pressed the sobbing man gently into his body, caressing the trembling back and the ebony hair. His shoulder and chest were wet with tears, and his clothes were crumpled beneath the gripping force of the hurting man.

Every sob, every gasp, every choking sound sent painful stabs into the Demon Lord's heart. If it was possible, he would rather have Val go through this while sleeping. But they couldn't do that, for the moment Val fell unconscious, the Amrita, who used the mana channel as guiding pathways, would go into a rampage.

So Val had to stay awake until the Amrita was done with its work, no matter how painful it was.

"You're doing good, sweetheart, just a little bit more, endure it a little bit more,"

Amidst the kiss pressed on his temple and hair, Val opened his eyes slightly, green eyes flickered in an attempt to stay conscious. "...a...bit m-more?"

"Yeah, just a little bit more," the Demon Lord caressed the wet cheeks tenderly, planting a soft kiss on the priest's forehead. "You can do that, can't you sweetheart?"

"Ngh..." Val sobbed again, pressing his face into the Demon Lord's neck, who immediately caressed his nape, and massaged his clutching hand. "I...can..." he said slowly, brokenly. "I-if you...re here...I c-can..."

"Yeah...yeah, I'll be here, sweetheart, I'll be here,"

Inside the cold embrace of the Demon Lord, the former Priest of Judgement writhed and sobbed as the scorching heat blasted his circuit. The same sense of heat had destroyed it before, and with the same pain, it was restored.

Whether it was because he finally got used to it or because the treatment was nearing the end, the painful sound of sobbing and choking, as well as the trembling subsided considerably after a while. And with a sweet voice, the Demon Lord whispered the words Val had been waiting for.

"It's over now. You can rest, sweetheart,"

And with that, Val let himself fall deep into the starry darkness again.

* * *

The Demon Lord's bedroom opened softly, and Angwi came inside without a sound, wordlessly picking up the scattered clothes wet with sweat and tears. She looked at the bed, and watched her Lord stroke the human's cheek tenderly, soft gaze tracing the pale skin that slowly regained its color.

"He's sweet, isn't he?" the Lord moved his fingers to hold the warm hand that had been clutching onto him since earlier. "So sweet...so pitiful..."

Angwi lowered her gaze—it wasn't her place to observe her Lord's heartfelt gesture. She didn't know much about relationships, whether it was between demons or between humans. But she knew enough about humans, and by the standard of the human she knew, then yes...the Lord's bride was a sweet human.

The human looked at her and the other demons with a clear gaze—not of scorn, not of fear. He looked at them like normal living beings, and went as far as studying them to know the demon kind better.

It was truly hard to imagine that the same person had slaughtered a lot of her kin, and destroyed five of the Demon Lord of Wrath's hearts.

"It's weird isn't it," the Lord continued to speak, and Angwi continued to listen, just like usual. "He's always trembling with the smallest tease, like an innocent maiden," there was a gentle smile on the Lord's face, but it was gone in the next second. "But he reacted nonchalantly when he was being touched. As if he'd used to it..."

Angwi fixed her gaze on the floor, because she was sure she'd have a nightmare if she looked at the Lord's face right now. "How hateful..."

There was a cold air piercing the maid's skin, filling up the room with dreadful feelings. "To be able to casually touch him, when I had to wait for so long..."

The cold, dreary air persisted for a while, and it was only after Angwi felt like she couldn't breathe that the cold vanished, and the room returned to its warm origin.

"Give him his favorite tomorrow," the Lord spoke without tearing his gaze from the man's sleeping face.

The maid bowed and went out of the room, leaving the Lord still staring at the human, hand caressing the ebony hair and brushing the stray strands away from the human's face.

When the maid had gone from the bedroom, the balcony creaked open, and a robed figure entered this time. If Val was awake, he would be able to recognize them as the spy he cornered to deliver his letter to the Demon Lord.

They had a human appearance, but as they shoved their hood down and kneeled beside the bed, their skin changed to a light blue one, and their hair and eyes turned pearly white, almost iridescent.

"How is it?"

The robed figure took out a box the size of a small suitcase, and put it respectfully on top of the bedside table.

"Just this?"

The robed figure lowered his head and spoke with an androgynous voice. "Yes, My Lord. He had sold most of his possessions to pay for the debt. What's left are mostly keepsakes from his past," they explained carefully, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Haa..." again, there was a barrage of cold air filling the room. But this time, it was harsher than the one Angwi felt. The robed figure gritted their teeth, face scrunched up to withstand the pressure coming out of the Lord.

At that time, the human stirred and let out a little sigh. And just like that, the pressure vanished, and the robed figure gasped quietly in relief. They stayed kneeling on the floor as the Demon Lord pulled the blanket to cover the human better. Softly, tenderly, as if the piercing, cold fury he let out earlier was a lie, the Demon Lord patted and caressed the human's sleeping figure.

"And the church?"

"It seems like they put someone to watch him from time to time, and they started to notice that the priest hadn't been seen for the last few days," the robed figure answered swiftly.

"To wait for his death and retrieve the spear?"

"It seems to be so, my Lord,"

The Demon Lord chuckled, but it wasn't the sweet sound that the human usually heard. It was eerie, cruel, and induced the latent fear inside one's mind.

Such was the true nature of a Nightmare.

"Does Sohram manage to infiltrate the palace?"

"Yes, my Lord,"

"Good," a deep smile carved on the Demon Lord's cold face. "You should proceed with the plan."

"My Lord?" the robed figure lifted his face, white eyes widened in surprise.

The Demon Lord, for the first time after a while, turned his head to look outside the window, at the night that stretched far and wide. His silver orbs rippled, piercing the space to stare at a certain kingdom.

"Let's show the 'Hero' how dirty the real world is."

The robed figure immediately lowered their gaze and let out a faithful reply. "Yes, my Lord,"

They moved back, still with their body bowed low in the ground. They put up their hood and only stood up once they arrived in front of the balcony door. With a soft clicking sound, the door closed, and the figure vanished into the dark.

Soon, the room was filled with silence again, and the only sound that could be heard was the soft breathing of the sleeping human. Slowly, carefully, the Demon Lord climbed into the bed and laid down beside the former priest, caressing the cheek until it regained the healthy, soft pink color. The Demon Lord watched the lashes flutter as the human dove into the dreamland, wondering what kind of dream the pitiful child had.

Softly, he rubbed the corner of the human's eyes. The eyes that were filled with tears. His thumb slid down into the now dry cheek, and stopped at the slightly parted lips, stroking ever so gently.

The lips that had been letting out pitiful sounds, and uttering a single name.

"Val," the Lord whispered in a soft tone. And yet, there was something sharp, something sad inside the low voice. "Whose name were you calling?"