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Published: 2011-10-04 15:13:10 +0000 UTC; Views: 574; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 3
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Castle of Helheim. A black, cold abomination with veins of lava streams crisscrossing the walls. Glowing. Pulsating. Giving the onlooker the ominous impression that it is something alive. A monster. A living being in its own regard.It is an imposing structure, one that leaves the observer shivering in cold sweat.
Even despite its somewhat overwhelming size, it is surprisingly empty of people. No guards are patrolling the walls. No one but a lone stray hound is guarding the gates. No guards, not anywhere. The reason for this is rather simple; no one can protect the royal family better than the royal family itself. And most of all so, is Satan Himself, sitting high upon his throne of skulls, he rules the realm with an iron grip, for that is the only way this chaotic realm ever could be ruled.
Few know, however, that this man has a daughter. A daughter of a most rebellious nature, aged 1093. Counted in Daemon years, that would be about seventeen.
She is actually quite short for a Daemon, but she carries herself with a pride unmatched by most of Daemon nobility, giving people the impression that she is towering over them.
As all Daemonettes, she is born with breathtaking beauty, but while most won't hesitate to use their looks as a lethal weapon, she prefers to let her fists do the talking, although not for the reasons one might expect. She is a Daemon. To the core. But inside that core also lies the soul of a proud warrior. And as such, she refuses to let people go easy on her, only because of her looks. Or worse yet, because of her title.
Ah, yes. Her title. Something most Daemons would consider a curse from their king. She considers it a God's Blessing. For a good reason.
*******
"Mistress Luca! Your highness!"
The princess opened a tired eye in annoyance as the sound of the servant's call reached her. He must be a new recruit, as otherwise he'd never call her 'your highness'. He'd know a lot better than that.
The door flew open and in came the young servant boy. He had been running, judging from his heavy breathing. He quickly remembered his manners and bowed down low.
"Luca, my princess, Drud awaits you at the sparring grounds."
She rose up from her bed with a sigh. She considered burning the servant to a crisp for disrupting her nap, but decided against it. This was Drud's call, after all. One couldn't help but appreciate one of the few lights of irregularity in this place. They always put her in a good mood. Thus she felt merciful, for once in a while.
The servant boy fell flat to the floor when she passed, causing the princess to groan in frustration. Inwardly. He was new, and they already had a shortage of servants as it was. They didn't need another one to resign out of sheer terror.
But still, it wasn't like she had chosen to be born a princess. Frankly, why would she? If she hadn't, she'd most likely be a part of the army since long by now, probably as an agent or a scout. Yes, definitely a scout, so she could run at least somewhat freely. Sure, she'd be forced to take part in that endless blasted war against those heavenly Angels, but she'd never liked that stuck-up, arrogant lot anyway. The likes of them wouldn't be able to survive a week down here.
A wicked smile crept up upon her face as she walked down the corridor towards the Flighthall. Yes, if she ever met one of those shiny bastards, she'd drag his pathetic, feathery person kicking and screaming down into the fiery wastelands, just to observe how long he'd last. And then the fiery wastelands had one of the milder climates in Muspel, the realm of fire.
Several servants that she passed by carefully edged away from their princess as her smile was even more evil than her usual temperamental self. Most people generally made it a rule to stay clear out of her presence, even when she was in a good mood. So far, there were only four exceptions to this rule.
Having reached the Flighthall, Luca casually stepped into the free air as the floor abruptly gave way to empty space filled with naught but air. She was free-falling. She didn't bat an eye. No, this was something practically every single building in all of Helheim used instead of the Tellus invention called Elevator. What use are such constructs when you have wings, anyway?
Spreading her wings only meters from the ground, she halted the fall with practiced ease before hurrying towards the sparring grounds. Drud was one of the only two persons she could interact with on equal ground without arguments arising, and the occasions they had any time to do so were becoming increasingly rare.
Stepping into the courtyard, she spotted her old friend and instructor who had been training her in the art of combat for several centuries now. He was sitting down on an old stone bench, smoking one of his strange, smelly cigars. She hesitated for a moment, sensing something in the air. The old goat was a clever man with an incredible control of his relatively small resources of magic powers. He wasn't considered one of the most skilled warriors ever to have served Lucifer for naught. Yet he was sitting here, completely open, as if only inviting her to attack him. Well, that was their usual greeting, after all, but there was more to it. He was testing her. Just like he always did.
Then she felt it. A sensorial barrier. Cunning bastard. So, this time it was a sneaking test, eh? Again? Great, that was the one area she had problem with. Discretion. He was never the one to pass up on an opportunity to improve her skill and when he had noticed her difficulties with the area, his tests on the subject had just about tripled.
She couldn't help it. As all nobles, she was born with a tremendous magic capacity, and the stronger magic you had, the brighter it shone. And the more difficult it was to hide. Most nobles didn't even bother learning how to hide their presence. No one dared to stand up against them anyway, and discretion was something that was rarely needed on the front lines.
And naturally, the royals' inherited magic power was legendary. No wonder it was her worst area.
But the training had provided results, and now, Luca was determined to show those results. She reached out to her magic, taking control over it as she would a trusted steed. Carefully, she let it envelop her whole being and slowly, but steadily sink in deep below her skin, the natural barrier. Clenching her fist with a confident smirk, she quickly strode towards the old blue goat Daemon, trying to make as little noise as physically possible. It wasn't the easiest task, since the courtyard was paved with what most probably was solid obsidian, and as many daemons, her feet had very large claws. When she was about two meters from the old master, he turned his head towards her and blew out a large puff of smoke in her face.
"If it wasn't for the pavement, I'd give you a perfect score."
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but hold back a smile. All of that training really had paid off. Now she only had to find some way to mute the sound of her claws clapping against the stone. But now was not the time. Now was the time for a good spar. A spar that ended in a mildly surprising fashion. In the end, the match was a draw, after fifteen whole minutes of exchanging blows.
Exhausted, they both sat down on the stone bench to breathe out a bit before their lives outside of the sparring grounds would be calling. They usually used these few minutes to talk technique and the finer details of magic usage in combat, but not this day. This day, the old master just sat silently, a peaceful expression embracing his features. For some reason, he seemed so much older now than only minutes before. Luca didn't give it much thought. She just leaned back against the black wall while her master puffed silently on his odd cigar in thoughtful silence.
They sat there like that for quite a few minutes as Luca's breathing slowly evened out. But then the old goat decided to break the silence.
"Seven centuries."
Luca looked up, caught by surprise.
"Say what now?"
The old man chuckled.
"That's how long I've been teaching you the art of combat. You have come far."
Luca smiled the honest, whole-hearted smile she only ever used in the presence of three particular people. But there was a certain amount of melancholy and self-mockery in the expression, and especially in the sigh that escaped her.
"Oh, really? It's not like you was giving your all, anyway."
"Incorrect. I was."
Luca stared at the half-goat, unable to find anything to say back, other than giving him a look of utter disbelief. The old goat just chuckled.
"Yes, we stand on pretty much equal ground now, you and I."
The Daemonette practically froze when her teacher uttered those words, but not in happiness, as logic would have it. No, it was the realization that if Drud couldn't teach her any more, her father would most likely not let him stay in the castle any longer, and thus she would lose her best sparring partner, and one of her few escapes from the rest of her life. She couldn't just accept this.
"But… But there has to be something I'm still doing wrong! Something you have yet to teach me!"
The old goat smiled to himself.
"Yes, Luca, there are still endless ways you could improve, and many things you are doing wrong. Alas, I cannot help you with that."
Luca felt panic rising in her chest, but she did her best to keep it down. Some slipped through in her voice, though.
"What do you mean, you can't help me?"
Drud calmly puffed away on his strange cigar, smiling mysteriously.
"I can only teach you my way of combat, not yours."
Luca frowned.
"I don't get it. You're telling me I have to find my own style?"
He just smiled.
Luca raised an eyebrow. She knew that he was strangely serious, and when he was, he meant what he said. Still, this wasn't exactly what she had been expecting.
"And how do I do that? Here?"
The old master met her gaze for the first time during this whole conversation.
"That, my lass," he said, giving her a quirky look, "is for you to figure out yourself."
Luca was just about to come with a sharp retort when a loud call rang throughout the yard.
"Princess!"
"Here we go again," Luca sighed, rolling her eyes. She wasn't particularly enthusiastic about whatever was calling for her presence. "I'm sorry, Sensei. I'll come back later."
The old Daemon didn't answer. He just puffed on what was left of his cigar, absorbed by his own thoughts as he watched his now former student stride away. As she rounded the corner, his smile turned from quirky to melancholic. He plucked the cigar from his mouth, exhaling slowly, letting the smoke form rather neat rings.
"I wonder about that, my lass," he mumbled to himself. He then inhaled another lungful of smoke, blowing it out in the shape of a roaring dragon, flying right through the bigger of his previous smoke rings as he chuckled silently, almost sadly to himself.
"Yes, you'll make a mighty fine warrior one day, Luca. Just follow the voice of your soul."
*******
"Engagement?!"
The King of hell, privately called Lucifer, or occasionally Louie, met his daughter's outrage with a calm and steady gaze.
"Yes, Luca. Time is running out. It's about time you got yourself a fiancée."
The young Daemonette was not amused.
"And I don't even have any say in the matter? Not even in the choice of guy?!"
The King's gaze didn't waver a nanometer.
"Since you have made no effort whatsoever regarding the matter, I had to take drastic measures."
Lucas utter rage reached a stage that it took on a physical form in the shape of a bright flame covering her hair and greater part of her back. In fact, it was as if her hair became the flame itself. In fact, that was indeed the case. It did that when the badly tempered princess fired up a bit too much.
"You- You didn't even- You could have bloody well warned me! You could have at least given me a blessed chance to in the first place!"
Lucifer narrowed his eyes, and it was as if greater part of the room suddenly dropped in temperature by several degrees.
"Don't come with excuses, Luca. You have had plenty of chances to do so. There have been countless occasions when good Daemon nobles and Knights have been visiting our halls."
The princess spat on the floor. The spit quickly begun to erode away at the stone floor as if it was acidic. It was almost as if the whole hall begun writhing in pain, without actually moving. Luca didn't give a damn.
"Those spineless Archangels?! They're good for naught but licking our claws clean."
"Luca!" For the first time, the Dark Lord raised his voice, but only by a fraction, all without losing an inch of his cool. "Morai is a most fine Daemon youth with an admirable record in the war. He has slain several Archangels with his own hands and countless lesser guardians."
"That means nothing!" the angry teen retorted. "If I haven't been out on the front lines myself, then just how the Heavens could I know how big an achievement that is?!"
"Luca, that's quite-"
"Besides, I haven't even met the guy! You have arranged an engagement between me and a guy who I know practically nothing about, let alone met?! Lucifer, this is a bad joke."
The King's gaze hardened even further.
"I am not changing my mind."
The few servants in the audience hall trembled like dry leaves in the wind in the sheer presence of this clash of wills. And they weren't the only ones feeling the bad vibes. All over the two realms of Helheim, the inhabitants could feel a distinct, eerie change in temperature, intensifying the already extreme climates.
But then, the flames of Muspel suddenly subsided again. They subsided so suddenly that it was almost as if the heat dropped to lower levels than normal.
In the audience hall, Luca's flames had gone out, and her gaze had turned dangerously calm. If looks could kill, even the near-immortal Satan would be real dead now. Luca had come to a conclusion. She met her father's gaze with a confident smirk.
"Give him my deepest blessings then, Father."
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away with an air of dignity and heavy rage turned lethal. She didn't even bother to open the gates; she simply walked through them, leaving a big hole edged with nasty burns in her wake.
A thundering, ear-shattering screech echoed throughout the castle halls, as if the very structure was in agonizing pain. The King sighed to himself, finally allowing himself to soften up a bit as he rose from his throne, walking up to the nearest wall. He then patted it reassuringly, as if it was an old, trusted friend. Or possibly pet.
"There, there boy," he mumbled, seemingly to the air. "Easy."
The shrieking stopped, now replaced by a pained whimpering as the holes slowly closed up, seemingly by themselves.
Lucifer once again gave the wall an affectionate pat before walking back to his throne, a thoughtful smirk playing on his lips.
"I don't even know whether I should be upset or proud," he thought out loud, before leaning back, rubbing his temples. His sighing face in that very moment was probably one of the most emotional expressions anyone but one single person had ever seen on the man.
"Lilith…"
*******
Nightfall was a peculiar phenomenon in Helheim, where much of the light provided came from the lava and flames, whose light was reflected back by the whiteness of Jotun.
But as it happened, while flame and lava streams surely lit up the caverns moderately, the by far brightest light sources were the coral-like crystals that seemed to grow out of the cavern roof.
Their existence was a mystery to all. All but the royal family, that was.
Their light dimmed down during night, or the 'Shadow Hours' as most Daemons called it, but the reason for this strange occurrence was another big riddle. About as big a riddle as was the mysterious woman who lived alone in a peculiar little cottage, perched high up on a tall cliff overlooking the great lava lake known as Arnon.
This woman, however, will remain a mystery for a while longer. But from this little story, we can easily reach the conclusion that the Shadow Hours were surprisingly bright. Not that anyone but the royal army knew anything different. And despite this, it was still the by far most optional time for escaping from someone or somewhere unnoticed, which was exactly what a certain Luca IV Melanie Flamesoul was planning to do.
She let her gaze slowly travel around her room, taking what would probably be one last look of her quarters. The quarters in which she had spent her whole life living in. Up until now.
Her gaze landed on the mirror by her bed. She smiled thoughtfully at her reflection. For over one millennia and almost a century she had been living in these quarters. In this castle. That was a lot of time.
She didn't feel particularly bad about leaving. She'd seen it enough. Enough to last her eleven lifetimes. It was about blessed time for a change in scenery.
But then she spotted something. Something odd. Something out of place. A small, oblong package, lying on her bed, wrapped in dirty-white, rough linen cloth. A letter was placed on top of it.
Luca frowned. How could she have failed to notice that until now?
She walked up to the package, picking up the letter. 'Dear Luca' was written on the envelope. She didn't recognize the handwriting. She frowned. It couldn't be that jerk Mural or whatever, trying to make a good impression, surely? Feh, likely.
Ripping open the envelope, she unfolded the letter, trying to have some patience for once. Her frown of annoyance almost immediately loosened up into a face of surprise. It was a letter from Drud.
Dear Luca,
Consider this a graduation gift.
Only use them in an emergency.
I hope that you will find them useful.
Sincerely,
Drud Mehst
Luca raised an eyebrow. What was this all about? It was almost as if the old goat knew that she was leaving. But that couldn't be, surely?
She picked up the package and carefully wrapped it up. She did not know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't what fell out; two long, strange daggers, about as long as her forearms. The hilts were artistically wrapped in black, almost green leather and they had a surprisingly plain cross-guard, the only thing that caught the eye was the faint flame-like pattern that seemed to have formed when they were first forged. They lacked scabbards, and so the blades were wrapped in a linen cloth similar to the cloth that had been used to wrap it all together. Only, this cloth was of a finer quality.
But what actually caught the eye about the weapons was the faint hint that the way the cloth was wrapped gave away. The blades weren't straight, more jagged, but she couldn't tell. The cloth was wrapped in a way so that it would conceal the shape.
They had usually sparred unarmed, but occasionally they had tried a weapon or two, but the only type of weapon she had shown any talent with were daggers.
But these daggers… she knew them from somewhere, perhaps from a picture, in a book from long ago. But no matter how much she tried, she just wasn't able to place them. If she had only paid more attention to the more theoretical teachers… Oh, well. There was no changing the past, and now she was going to leave this place. Hopefully forever. If there was anything with these daggers, she'd be sure to find out sooner or later.
She thoughtfully strapped them to her back and opened the big bedroom window, stretching her wings as she prepared for the flight. She had just hopped up on the windowsill when-
"Finally running away, are we, dear?"
She froze. She'd been found out! Moreover, what impudent servant had the nerve to- Wait, 'dear'? Oh. That guy.
"The fuck, Al? Don't scare me like that."
The Daemon whose full name really was Alexis just chuckled to himself, leaning against the door. Or was that herself? After all these years, Luca still wasn't sure. He was much too feminine to be considered a man, but way too masculine to be seen as a woman. And he hardly ever talked about himself, and whenever asked about, he'd just shrug it off, asking if it was that important, really. Luca had, however, long since settled for using the male pronoun. It made things easier to deal with, at least mentally.
He wasn't exactly a servant, although he occasionally came to the castle to help out with things. Especially to help out Luca with things. He came and went as he liked and the King let him do so as he was a surprisingly skilled musician, not to mention his genius at the battlefield. Even despite his odd choice of weaponry.
He was also the only friend Luca had ever had who was of her own age.
She sighed, smiling as she jumped down back to the floor.
"Well, good evening to you, too. What brings you here today?"
He, or perhaps she, gave the princess a sad while sly smile.
"You're leaving and didn't even take your time to say goodbye to me? Sweet, you hurt my feelings."
Despite how it might sound, the two Daemons were naught but friends. Al just made it a habit to address people in an easily misinterpreted mannerism. He was a bit peculiar in more ways than one.
Luca sighed in a way that sounded a lot like a chuckle.
"Well, it's not exactly my fault that you only show up where and whenever you please, and never otherwise. It's near impossible to seek you out."
"Aw, don't say that."
"Anyway, that's not the only reason of why you suddenly pop up in my room without warning."
It was not a question.
The strange daemon smiled in a strangely peaceful way.
"You know me so well, sweetheart. But as it happens, I just came to wish you good luck." His face turned serious. "You're going to need it."
Luca just grinned back while hiding her presence just like she had done earlier that day in the courtyard.
"Thanks. But I'll be fine."
The serious look that Al then gave her said more than words could ever do.
Luca rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Fine, I won't underestimate them. No need to turn all worry-worm on me."
Before she could blink, she was embraced in a friendly hug.
"Don't you dare die on me, you hear that?"
She blinked in surprise, before returning the embrace.
"No worries. I don't plan on kicking the bucket for at least five more millennia."
"Good." He let go, his usual sly smile back. "Well, dear, what are you waiting for? Fly away, and make sure you don't come back."
She grinned widely, once again perched up on the windowsill.
"I won't. Well then, until we meet again!"
And with that, she jumped out of the window and was soon out of sight.
When a servant came by about two minutes later to bring Luca her usual cup of evening tea, he found the room utterly devoid of people.
And no one had been seen leaving the room.
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Comments: 2
JargonTheRed [2011-10-05 17:24:05 +0000 UTC]
FINALLY! Oh ho ho, great job! This was totally worth the wait. Thumbs up for Lucifer being called Louie
Yeah, I'd love to beta-read your chapters Win-win situations are always my favourite ones. Especially when they involve very, very interesting stories.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0
monkeeboy3 [2011-10-04 21:02:43 +0000 UTC]
Very nicely done, but a little bit before the letter, you said "over one millennia;" millennia is plural, the singular is millennium. That is, however, the only mistake I noticed, so good job.
👍: 0 ⏩: 0