The Devil's Beloved part ten: A Confession Wrapped in Tears
Alright then...
All that sentimental business in the last chapter? Dear reader, never you mind. My tale of the faerie girl and my pursuit of lost love? It was only a momentary lapse of theatrical indulgence, a matter hardly worth dissecting.
I am a king after all, and a king has command of his emotions, especially where love is concerned.
It doesn't really matter either way, these things always end sooner or later- a line is drawn, the door closes, and we carry on. That’s how it works.
That’s how I work.
Besides, she… she made her choice.
And I’m fine with that.
Really.
Utterly fine.
Why wouldn’t I be? I’m composed. Dignified. One girl- one beautiful, bright, darling girl- doesn’t undo me.
Not even a little.
Now then. Let’s resume our angelic story, shall we? The scene to come involves a secret tryst between two celestial beings, sharing the most decadent of delights...
Right, no more slips of unwarranted melodrama on my part, just calm authority.
I'm forgetting her now.
I said, I'm forgetting her...
☆☆☆
Finally, Rideriel found the scroll and turned around to hand it to Tzyeriel, only to find the angel standing mere inches away from him. He could see the fiery passion burning within Tzyeriel's gaze and wanted nothing more than to be enveloped by those flames. He stammered-
"I... I... let me lock the door." Tzyeriel cocked his head ever so slightly, grinned, and playfully kissed the scribe's cheek. Rideriel's eyes bulged with surprise, his hands shaking as he placed his silver key into the lock. He'd turned around and was taken into a sudden passionate embrace by the Seraphim. He'd gasped as he felt the fierce angel's soft lips envelop his with a kiss as overpowering as starlight. Rideriel wrapped his arms around Tzyeriel, and murmured-
"I never thought I'd... I want this, I want..."
Tzyeriel lifted him off the ground and carried him over to a nearby table. Without a word, he laid the scribe down and climbed on top of him. Rideriel readily gave himself over to the angel's divine gift of pleasure. The next several minutes were the most intense he'd ever experienced, for that fleeting series of moments, Rideriel had been happy.
Afterwards he was filled with an immediate sense of remorse. Tzyeriel gave him a friendly pat, Rideriel tried to smile at him, but his embarrassment was so overwhelming he couldn't look the Seraphim in the eye.
They straightened their clothes in silence. Tzyeriel tried to start a casual conversation, but Rideriel only grabbed the scroll and handed it to him without making eye contact. They'd left the room together, heading off on their separate ways.
Rideriel sat down at his desk and gone back to organizing the orders that had piled while he'd been away. The entire thing felt so surreal, he'd just engaged in one of the most forbidden acts that could be committed amongst his kind, yet here he was, scribbling away with his quill as if this day were the same as any other. He'd imagined doing the thing so many times, playing out the scenario of how it would happen in his head in a million different ways, but he'd never dreamed he would ever actually experience it.
Weeks passed. Rideriel tried to act unassuming but lived with the constant fear that he'd be discovered and cast out, forever doomed to walk the Earth alone. Eventually his fear started subsiding. He found himself thinking more and more about the Seraphim. He didn't know anything about Tzyeriel, but found he couldn't get him out of his mind. Records of the goings-on of angels regularly moved through his station, so he'd started keeping tabs on what Tzyeriel was up to. Occasionally he'd find a scrap of information, usually about an especially wicked sinner Tzyeriel was being sent to punish.
Rideriel constantly caught himself daydreaming about the angel. After a couple of months, the maddest idea started going through his mind. He began thinking about reaching out to Tzyeriel. There were many times he'd envisioned what would happen if they met again, scenarios where he might, for example, make up some story about a missing scroll that he just had to deliver himself- Oh, the things that would happen when they reunited, the deliciously wonderful things...
And then one day, there he was! Rideriel was surprised to see the broad-shouldered angel enter the large golden doorway. In his mind, he'd gone over what he would say the next time they met over and over again, rehearsing the lines under his breath whenever he'd had a moment to himself. What good fortune, the object of his desire was there, heading his way!
But then a cold fear filled him. Rideriel had been lucky not to get caught the first time, but if he gave into his fantasies by pursuing Tzyeriel Heaven would find out eventually. He'd panicked and, unable to think of anything else, hidden under his desk. The Seraphim walked by moments later, stopping to look at Rideriel's empty desk before moving on. The scribe waited in a cramped, huddled position until he was certain the angel was gone. He'd peeked up to make sure the coast was clear, returning to work as if nothing unusual had happened.
His coworkers noticed his sudden odd behavior. They'd all heard the rumors about Rideriel, seeing his reaction to Tzyeriel's presence only confirmed the validity of the stories in their minds. However, Rideriel was pleasant enough, so they collectively decided not to discuss the matter any further until Jophiel and Amitiel came around.
☆☆☆
Rideriel shook fearfully as Jophiel stared down at him. He knew if he didn't tell the truth, Amitiel would know. He thought- "If I fall to Earth I'll never survive, I'm weak, at best I'll become some fallen one's pet, oh, Tzyeriel, how could you do this to me?!"
And then he came up with an out. Technically, he wouldn't be lying if he accused Tzyeriel of being the instigator. A pang of guilt went through him, but he ignored the sensation, and rationalized- "Tzyeriel is much stronger than I am, if one of us is to be thrown out of Heaven, it would be better if it were him. I've read his service records, if he fell, it wouldn't be long before the fallen were running away from HIM..." Rideriel looked up, and was shocked to see Amitiel standing inches away, staring into his eyes. He tearfully exclaimed-
"I admit it, I was seduced by Tzyeriel, it was all his fault!" He confessed, excluding any admissions of how much he'd enjoyed the encounter. When he was done, Amitiel nodded, turned to Jophiel, and said-
"I believe him." Jophiel turned to the weeping scribe, put a hand on the angel's shoulder, and said-
"You have been of great assistance in our investigation, I thank you." Rideriel hung his head. A deep sense of shame filled him. He was led away, and escorted back to his desk, where he tried his hardest to get back to work.
As he watched Jophiel and Amitiel leave, he felt a terrible emotion threatening to overtake him. He'd condemned the closest thing he'd ever had to a lover, and while he may have saved his own skin, part of him knew that a sense of loss and remorse would haunt him for the rest of his days.
☆☆☆
Oh no, oh no!
Royal blog readers, this is not good. I, Stinksnort, must finish this post. King Badinel, he who is greatest and best smelling among goblins, is acting... odd. Very odd, oh yes.
I was sitting by the sofa finishing his dictation of kissy kissy angel time when it happened. He was pacing around the room, saying-
"Stinksnort, erase those words, they are like this, not that", but then he stopped in his tracks. The king said nothing, only standing still. I thought he was planning the next story bit, until I noticed tears rolling down his cheeks, really big tears, like wet lemon drops. I saw this and could not stop wondering-
"Does the king have a tummy ache? Did he stub his big toe while he was walking?" But then I thought about what he said before telling the angel story, and that he is sad.
His majesty wiped his face on the sleeve of his royal cloak. Agatha, the small hissy dragon, she heard the sound of sniffling and came over to see what is happening. Usually, she does not get close to the king without puffing up all angry, but this time she is quiet, she looks at him for a moment and then goes back to rest under her red lamp.
Blarg looked up from his tablet. He has been poking it with a dainty magic stick all day, but the sound of crying has gotten loud enough he could not help but look at his majesty. The orc frowned and went to open the icy freezing box. He pulled out the green creamy ice and scoops it into a bowl. Blarg offers it to his majesty, but my lord only looks at it, sniffles, and hangs his head. The orc pats the king on the shoulder kindly before heading back to his desk.
Don’t worry, dear readers. He’ll get through this. Kings are good at hiding things, even broken hearts.
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