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Zerxus, former first knight of Avalir now burning right hand of Asmodeus Lord of the nine hells and prince of honeyed lies, knows that despite all his protests he plays his part well. War had always suited him he could admit as much. His only saving grace was that he used to be on the other side of it, fighting side by side with heroes and defending those in need. If indeed heroes ever existed at all.
Now, the blood of the innocent burns into his skin like a fiery brand and despite his best efforts most days he can’t get clean. Zerxus imagines it is his Lords will that makes it so, taking some twisted joy in the impossible task, watching as his champion is unable to fully wash away the dull red, the metallic sting always hanging in the air around him like a warning, a fog of war or as the God would call it, an announcement. ‘Here comes Zerxus Ilerez burning right hand of Asmodeus’.
Every day is the same, another battle, another slaughter, another victory, another piece of his soul lost to time and ruin. He'd fought it at first, tried to remember every name, every face, every last word cried into the unforgiving fire burned to nothing but ash and bone, lost somewhere within a smouldering mass of writhing pain and ruin. They danced in his nightmares backlight by the fury of an unforgiving and wrathful God who often wore his husbands face. They tormented him exactly as Asmodeus desired and so Zerxus stopped keeping count, stopped forcing himself to remember. He needn't make himself suffer, that was Asmodeus’ job, one the devil took great joy and pride in, Zerxus would hate to deprive him of that. Still the fallen champion decided long ago that while he could not stop his Lord’s will, he could certainly delay it, make it difficult, distract him from it.
Which is why he speaks as he enters the throne room, ruined armour clanking to the ground by the door, the blood already beginning to pool beneath it. "A thought came to me as I slaughtered those innocents living in the stronghold you sent me to this evening my Lord, and I have decided once and for all that I do not seek to redeem you, I made that mistake years ago I have simply decided to forgive you, for all you have done to me, all you are doing to me, and all you may yet do to me."
Asmodeus doesn't look up from his place on the throne, his large and looming figure barely reacting to the presence of his champion, more than use to these outbursts from Zerxus now and then after a particularly gruesome victory. "This again? Come now my Champion you know your forgiveness does nothing for me."
"It's not for you." He stands in defiance head held high as he gazes up at the God before him wiping the blood from his sword with a ragged piece of cloth. There are so few things in this world Zerxus could really claim to be his. His body, his mind, and on some darker nights his emotions bent to the whims of a dark God but his ability to forgive was something the Lord could never touch as though shielded by what small piece remains of who he used to be "It is for me."
Asmodeus scoffs at Zerxus defiant stare and rolls his burning eyes the remnants of war clear on his blood splattered claws. A rare night when the Devil seemingly joined his army on the front lines, that is why Zerxus was sent to the stronghold and not with the army he realises. Still, it must have been a quick victory, hardly as entertaining as Zerxus knows the God wishes it was. he will crave a different kind of victory tonight, one harder to fight for and so despite the distaste his speech brings upon him Zerxus continues because he knows that despite his clipped response his Lord desires him to.
"You are not what I believed you to be when we met so long ago my Lord, I no longer wait for that soft voice to return I am no fool. True too is the fact that you are not what the world believes you to be, what you believe yourself to be. There is a balance between the three, I cannot redeem you and the world cannot condemn you because they would be condemning themselves ... you simply are. That is all, though you wear my husband’s face I see you as you are my Lord." Zerxus finishes bowing his head, a piece of false worship tagged on to the end as though that may soften his Gods response, it of course does not.
"This face of mine is your own doing my Champion, the day you no longer see me as a lost lover is the day I know you truly see me as I am for you will see the divine beauty of my will and it will surpass the common face of a mere mortal man." The Devil glowers his voice booming as he snarls down at the once first Knight the air growing hotter as the flames in the room spark and flicker brightly.
"Your will could never surpass him in beauty and despite the pain it brings me I enjoy seeing his face." Zerxus refuses to back down, he knows his God too well by now. He understands his Gods wishes. "I just wish it were not accompanied by your vile manner."
The arm of the throne cracks and almost shatters as Asmodeus brings a fist down in anger, chest heaving as he leans forward and snarls teeth bared "Would you prefer me to be the mewling weak creature you saw in that reflection, sprawled out in that bed bleeding out, whimpering and begging for salvation? Would you wish that fate upon me, to be cut down and powerless, riddled with guilt and longing? Tortured and in pain simply so you may save me!" The jagged black stone beneath his large red hand crumbles away onto the floor, a mess Zerxus will have to clean later he imagines half distracted by the thought though the next words snapped at him draw him back in as the deep resonating voice echoes throughout the room demanding attention "You are no better than me Zerxus! You do not wish for others safety you simply wish to save them! You cannot fix without me first breaking, you should have worshiped me all along I am the catalyst for your change, I am the vessel of your healing just as you are now the vessel of my hurt. A fair trade I think my Champion. I chose you for a reason I would have no other."
Zerxus almost flinches, Asmodeus always finds new ways to get under his skin. More often than not it involves simply ripping it off though or digging his claws past it into the muscle and sinew that stretches and tenses below, in this moment Zerxus thinks these words hurt more due simply to the truth held within them. As Zerxus grapples with himself internally Asmodeus casts a practiced dismissive look and with a scoff goes back to cleaning the blood off his claws ignoring the now crumbled arm of his throne.
It isn't until Asmodeus grows bored and glances back in his Champions direction that Zerxus responds with the knowledge that despite all appearances he has his Gods attention fully. "Hate the whole world and it doesn't hurt as much when the whole world hates you back. Though I suppose no mortal’s hatred could hurt as much as a Gods. I wonder when the sun touches your skin does it blister or does the Dawn Father care so little for you it does nothing at all?" It's a bold statement to be sure but one that fuels the fire behind the Lords eyes and Zerxus knows his God is happy, he has given him a reason to punish him later. It was common, this game between them. The Devil allowed Zerxus to push boundaries and cross lines only because of the joy it brought him to drag him by the hair back over them.
"You say such funny things my Champion as though you wish for me to react, does my anger please you?"
"Does it please you?"
Zerxus’ answer is as quick as his draw and cuts the air just as a blade might, Asmodeus leans over from atop his throne to make eye contact with the champion dark coals igniting a fiery red, the air seems to burn. Zerxus moves as though pulled by an invisible force stepping closer despite the heat and rage he feels radiating from Asmodeus, He feels again the blood on his hands that never quite goes away and decides that tonight he’ll deserve any punishment he gets, in fact he finds himself yearning for it.
The fire in his Gods eyes burns so brightly Zerxus imagines it must alight his face in an orange glow highlighting the lines, scars, and age earned through the seemingly endless battles and hardships of recent years. "... Ah your insolence is for my benefit then. I thought it was because you hated me."
Hatred, a common theme. The thread which runs through all their conversations and interactions as of late like a stitch in a wound that hurts instead of heals. Understandable and not unexpected, almost boring now.
"I don't hate you." His voice is quiet but the honesty in it echoes throughout the throne room "That boils your blood doesn't it, all your hard work for naught, all that effort to convince the whole world that everyone is unforgivable and yet here I stand and prostrate myself before you and tell you I forgive you. For you I think the worst part is not that I say it but that you’re finally starting to believe me.”
“It is a constant with you Zerxus! I can’t breathe for being ‘forgiven’ by you. Is there no end to your forgiveness? What must I do to find the limit, how depraved must I convince you I am Champion, who must I kill, torture, and main to show you how out of your depth you truly are you wretched mortal. Exandria will feel the ripples of my torment until the sun burns from the sky and the last living creature’s breath turns to black smoke and ash, there will be no mortal left to witness the ruin but you my Champion and we shall see then what you can forgive.”
“I needn’t concern myself with ripples of your torment my lord I am baptized in it I am sure by then I will not care enough about the world to mourn it.”
“I know you better Zerxus, when the oceans boil the only water left in Exandria will be your tears.”
“I would cry only for you my Lord, if you wished it.”
“You should not feel this way, I should not let you!”
Zerxus thinks it’s odd how out of breath the Devil sounds, how flustered, and almost panicked. Mere hours ago a rebellion was slaughtered without mercy, countless lay dead at this burning creatures feet and he revelled in their pain and suffering, found joy in their ruin. “Then stop me … command me not to.”
The devils voice grows softer his breath still ragged from his outburst Zerxus still standing so close he can feel it against his face “You will not listen.”
“You are a God, you could make me.”
“It will not last.”
And Zerxus knows that to be the truth, all the powers of a God could not shake his convictions from him, he thinks Asmodeus wouldn’t want to succeed anyway, he thinks despite everything the God really did chose him for a reason, needs him as he is, wouldn’t want him any other way. It feels a little like love, just a little.
He reaches a hand up to caress the familiar face above him catching a strand of dark red hair that falls over Asmodeus' wrathful eyes tucking it behind a pointed ear "I forgive you.”
Spoken softly from a man standing at the foot of a dark Gods throne to the face of the Betrayer that sits atop it without coercion, truly and honestly
"I forgive you."
There is silence for a moment, the air heavy and swelteringly hot, sparks of anger half faded in the air between them. And then the force with which Zerxus is kissed is almost as shocking as the fact that he's being kissed at all.
Desperate clawing hands grasp at his broad shoulders and neck, reaching up to tangle in his mess of black hair. His Lord God growls against his parted lips panting deeply as though the air itself has slighted him and deserved only to be pushed and pulled into his lungs not the luxury of settling within them. The kiss holds a fury Zerxus has not experienced since life, since Evandrin. A crash reverberates throughout the throne room as Zerxus, lacking recent practice and all together caught off guard, loses his balance and Asmodeus, supported mostly by his champion, falls from the throne into his arms. There is some greater meaning there Zerxus thinks but it must wait for a time when his mind is sharper, and his arms are not full of Betrayal.
The act of falling seems to shake Asmodeus out of whatever whim pushed him to embrace Zerxus and just as quickly as he was held Zerxus is pushed aside. The towering form of his God turns his back on him leaning against the throne to catch his breath and perhaps hide his expression. "I have tarried too long amongst the mortals of that wretched land, I seem to find myself lost in the tangled threads of a lie I once told you years ago, this was a moment of weakness nothing more."
The Lord lies and his champion know better, his confusion fades and a step is taken towards the throne. "If it was weakness, you'd never admit to it, certainly not to me." Another step is taken towards the God, a burning pillar of heat in the room "so I am guessing-" Zerxus now stands behind the Devil leaning over to mutter in his ear careful to avoid the curl of their horns clashing "it’s something worse than that, something so terrible you'd choose to hide it behind false weakness-"
For the first time in a very long time Zerxus feels like he’s winning.
"-... a moment of clarity perhaps?"
There's a snarl and Zerxus feels himself being flung bodily against the wall beside the throne a loud crack resonating out into the quiet of the room as the dark stone behind him cracks. Huffing angry breath heats his face like smoke from a chimney as Asmodeus stalks closer and towers over him both arms bracketing him against the wall. They stay like that for a long moment Zerxus unable to move even if he wished to, his head ringing, Asmodeus scowling down at him the heat of his body burning like a furnace against Zerxus’ own. Zerxus waits, for the grip to tighten to the point of death, for the killing blow that comes after outbursts like this from the petulant Lord of Lies but he is simply held, a reflection of their embrace mere moments ago but darker, coloured by rage and defensiveness, Zerxus finds that despite himself he craves it all the same, a symptom of his loneliness.
When the Devil finally speaks it is in a gravelled whisper eyes lidded as he stares "Very little of you is not under my control Zerxus, your body is my dominion, and I shall do with it what I wish. I shall burn it."
A burning hand sears into the flesh above Zerxus’ hip and he grits his teeth the skin blistering as his clothes weld themselves to the wound.
"I shall break it."
A hand slips into his dark hair and wraps around his horn snapping it in two, the piece that comes away in Asmodeus' hand dropping to the floor with a dull clatter as Zerxus’ head throbs.
"I shall remake it as I please."
The wounds on his body heal, the horn stays broken, his Lord presses closer one hand sliding from the wall to press into Zerxus shoulder as he speaks gripping tighter with each word “You. are. mine.”
Zerxus knows better than to argue when in such a position, he feels the hand against him and knows the damage it can do.
"So, my champion if the rare mood strikes me, just as I destroy, I shall worship, as to worship your form is simply to worship an extension of myself, that is all. Your body is my temple I may desecrate it how I please. Do not confuse my lust for longing."
Despite the healing magic Zerxus feels a trickle of blood seep from where Asmodeus’ claws dig into his shoulder and watches as the Devil notices it too his eyes flickering down admiringly as it collects upon Zerxus collarbone. Eyes darting between Zerxus' injury and face Asmodeus digs his claws in a little tighter feels the flesh give way under his blackened nails and his eyes flutter closed at the soft noise of pain that is released as a result. After a moment the God leans down almost tentatively and places a kiss to the deep gouges in his skin.
Zerxus winces his hands flying up to grasp at Asmodeus’ hair as he whimpers. For a moment Zerxus worries he's stepped too far but his worry is for naught as Asmodeus welcomes the hands gripping his hair and kisses harder against his collarbone as though gentleness would hint to something more, something he simply cannot allow. Zerxus watches the dark crimson pooling at his shoulder be cleansed and imagines that the taste of blood is nothing new to the Lord of the nine hells, he imagines perhaps the taste of iron upon his forked tongue is all too common a way to offset the sickly-sweet honey of his lies.
Zerxus lets the Devil lead, uncertain what may perhaps turn this false lovers embrace into a deadly grapple, he allows the biting against his neck, the grip around his waist, the curl of a pointed tail against his leg, he allows himself to be held, will not admit to himself that it isn't just to stave off another inevitable death and resurrection but simply because it has been so long since he was held like this. There's the quiet sound of tearing as Asmodeus takes a sharp claw and drags it down the centre of Zerxus chest, the fabric of his shirt rips lower and lower. A trail of blood follows as the God takes extra care to nick the skin just enough to sting revelling in the pained grunt it pulls from the man before him.
"I've hurt many others before my Champion, but none hurt quite so beautifully as you." Asmodeus groans as he pulls away wincing as though the honesty tastes so bitter and poisonous on his tongue even his champions divine blood cannot wash it away, despite himself he continues in a low and steady voice "when I torture them, I wish it were you. How I despise you for that."
Before Zerxus can respond Asmodeus' knees buckle and he falls to the floor kneeling before his champion still gripping him tightly as his face rests against Zerxus’ stomach cheek pressed against the harsh fabric of his torn tunic, horns digging into the firm flesh there in a way Zerxus knows is deliberate.
“The things you do to me, it is unholy the power you wield.”
He doesn’t feel powerful, not in moments like these. Not when the God is so unpredictable. It takes a moment for the once first Knight to form the words his wishes to speak, to choose them carefully, to convey what he feels to be true. "You hate everyone, but you love hating me."
A broken voice responds, "and I hate loving you." Asmodeus does not look up his face nuzzled against Zerxus hip bone and despite himself Zerxus once again feels pity for the creature before him. He is thankful that his Lord cannot see his face, pity may ruin the moment, pity may push pleasure into pain.
"Evandrins love for me came easily there was no doubt we were meant for one another, that to me was the truest form of love because it was inevitable but I- seeing you here in such pain simply because you long for me yet longing for me anyway, making the choice to car-"
"There is no choice Zerxus Illerez! If it were a matter of choice, I would not be prostrated at your feet like some wretched begger. I am a God." His voice is somewhat muffled as he speaks against Zerxus’ midriff arms still clinging to him despite the sentiment behind the words spoken, he does not move to stand, does not even attempt to.
"You have no idea the power one might gain upon his knees." Zerxus finds himself running a hand gently through Asmodeus’ hair and the devil flinches away as if slapped "Clerics must pray to their God's to earn their magics, what do you think you will earn from me like this?"
"I needn't earn anything; you are my Champion you do as I command."
“You don't want to command me to love you, you want me to do it freely." Zerxus can’t quite help the slight chuckle he releases at his realisation and wince slightly as Asmodeus tightened the clawed grip on his waist in retaliation piercing holes through the fabric and his skin. “If I am wrong then you must tell me what you want, correct me. You have had no trouble voicing your desire before why is this different?"
"That was not the same as what I ask for now, It is natural that I wish to do wicked things I am not ashamed of those carnal desires."
"Then what are you ashamed of?" Zerxus asks running his fingers through the tangled red hair obscuring Asmodeus’ face, the devil leans into the touch mouth falling open in a silent plea before he responds.
"I am ashamed of the gentle desires you stir in me; I am ashamed that I wish to hold you as though you were precious to me. I am ashamed that I desire to be better for you. By your nature you could love even the worst of me, I could make you so why do I long to be the best of me? It is meaningless if you would love me anyway."
"It is natural to want to better ourselves for those we love."
"Natural! It is not the nature of a God."
"... it is exactly the nature of a God, a God who changes with their followers is a God who is always worshipped, and you wish for me to worship you."
Asmodeus hides his face against Zerxus stomach and Zerxus’ breathing catches as he feels pressure against the wound, Asmodeus presses his tongue to the blood gathering against his navel and licks up the cut along Zerxus chest moving to stand as he does. The skin knits itself together behind that clever tongue and once the God reaches his full height said tongue is pushed into Zerxus mouth so that he may taste the proof of his Gods vindictive love. They stay like that for a long moment intertwined in the throne room, it occurs to Zerxus that the chamber it not entirely private but the thought drifts to the back of his mind as Asmodeus wraps his pointed tail around Zerxus waist tightly and without breaking the kiss moves them to the throne pulling the champion down into his lap with more force then necessary.
"I want you to love me don’t you see, loving me would be torturous for you." The Devils voice rasps into his ear as he pulls away from the kiss with a snarl "So beautifully torturous, won't you give me that my Champion? Your unwilling love. Don't you understand, it would hurt you to want me, to love me and so I want you to. It would hurt more if I wanted you back and so I must, I am compelled by my nature against my will."
Zerxus feels a hand rest against his throat and tips his head back as he attempts to catch his breath, organise his thoughts before his body takes over and makes very poor decisions on his behalf. He finds himself pressing harder against the man under him hands clasping at the soft shirt he wears, unsure if he wishes to push him away or pull him closer. He feels more in control sitting over Asmodeus and knows the move was deliberate, knows the God is still above him in all the ways that matter. The very presence of his body burns him, the sweetness of his words heals him. A deliberate dance to make Zerxus crave him, to make him yearn for the bad to earn the good. The hand around his throat shifts and Zerxus is sure that strong crimson hand must feel acutely each pulse of his heartbeat against his neck straining as he gasps. His mind must be addled by the flame, and the pressure, and the pain because for a moment those words sound almost romantic, and he feels himself cave under the Devils pleas. "You burn through me like fire, I feel I won't survive being loved by you." Zerxus speaks a warning, and his God hears praise.
Asmodeus lets out a soft groan and stares wide eyed up at Zerxus "You say the most beautiful things champion, you only burn because you light such fire within me. It is my desire that dances like flames.” The clawed hand on his neck moves to grasps Zerxus chin “Where it burns let my love sooth." The other hand runs through his dark unruly hair mending his broken horn “The control you lose in being desired by me; you may gain back from being loved by me."
He kisses the corner of his mouth again and Zerxus finds himself turning to deepen the kiss despite everything, he doesn’t want it, he needs it.
“Let me hold you gently tonight, as gently as a monster of my ilk might. Look upon me with that trusting gaze you first gifted me and allow me to be in your eyes alone what I was when you first met me, how you first saw me.”
Zerxus isn’t foolish enough to truly forget what lies behind that smile. Behind those cherry lips lie sharp fangs and an even sharper tongue but in moments like these Zerxus thinks that the play acts of kindness and care are as much to trick Asmodeus himself as his champion.
He knows there are crueller tricks to play, easier tricks than this. So Zerxus against his better judgement and in line with his true nature settles into the fiery embrace “I do see you my Lord, as no one else does.”
There will be agony later he knows, kindness in this place is a prelude to sorrow but in this moment, he finds warmth in the arms of a Betrayer and loves, despite the pain, the God who loves because of it.