Word Count: 1,295
Created for the Tropetember Event – Noble Demon
…
The demon king’s throne room is a cavernous hall of sleek black stone that glints like an oil spill in the spirit fire that drift lethargically across the high ceiling. The only decorations are massive pillars, the middle carved into great heroic figures, so mocking perfect and strong, heads high, swords raised, armour practically gleaming.
Totelos does like a good joke, after all.
When the heavy double doors are slammed open, the great bang resounds through the entire hall and it’s really incredibly satisfying. Totelos does it at every opportunity, mainly to scare his minions.
This time when the doors open, it’s only the left one, and it’s pushed open a bit to let a figure step through before it slowly levers closed by itself with a thunk. The summoned hero enters with his sword still sheathed, his party members missing.
Totelos’ ready smile wavers but firms up into something more like baring teeth. He holds his pose, legs crossed at the knee upon his throne of bleached bones on the raised dais. “I’m sorry, would you like to try that again, Riccardo?”
The princess he stole is chained to the throne, very dramatically ragged and bloodied from a fight Totelos was half-assing, the steel collar around her neck weighing heavily since she snapped the nice delicate gold one, because gods forbid she co-operate for once in her life.
She sees her hero and lurches forward where she’d been pacing around the throne like a caged tiger, occasionally taking potshots at the demon king whenever she thought he was distracted. “Riccardo! You shouldn’t have come, I could have escaped myself.”
Totelos rolls his eyes.
“Let Samia go,” the hero says evenly as he walks down the long room, boots thunking on the black floor.
Totelos laughs. “If you want to save your precious-“
“You don’t even like her,” Riccardo cuts in, annoyed. “Neither of you could stand each other for long. Just – we need to talk.”
Totelos grits his teeth and then forces a smile back on his face. “Where is my surprise, hero? Where is my rage and betrayal? I’ve been travelling with you for a year in disguise, and you come to defeat me, and I get a ‘we need to talk’?!”
Riccardo stops at the bottom steps of the dais and just looks up at him. “You stopped bothering to pretend, at the end there. Wasn’t much of a surprise.” He shakes his head. “Let Samia go.”
Totelos yanks his hand up in a sharp motion and the chain dissolves into dust. Samia lurches forward, sprinting down the steps and scrambling at the hero, drawing his second short sword with a scrape of metal against the scabbard.
Samia turns on the demon king, falling into a ready stance. “Good work. Now call in the others and we can finally finish this,” she snarls.
“You are just the worst princess,” Totelos complains, rubbing his forehead. “I really should have taken Gwenn. Riccardo, why couldn’t you have been better friends with Gwenn, then I wouldn’t need this?” He gestures vaguely at the local princess.
“I still would have come to kill you anyway,” Samia snaps.
Riccardo puts a hand on Samia’s shoulder. “The others are waiting outside the castle. Go get healed up. Your father is frantic.”
Samia darts a glance to Riccardo, expression softening. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’ve trained for this too.”
“Can we get to the fighting yet?” Totelos drawls, slumped in his throne.
“I was summoned here for this,” Riccardo tells Samia with a wry smile. “I think the church would be upset if you stole my glory.” He leans in and lowers his voice, eyes earnest. “Please, go get healed, I know you’re in pain.”
“He only got a few shots in,” Samia mutters. She hesitates but hands the sword back.
“Keep it, there are still demons wandering around,” Riccardo explains and gives her a gentle push towards the doors.
Samia scowls at Totelos all the way to the door. At least she slams it though.
Totelos bounces his hanging foot, frowning down at Riccardo. “You’re not here for a fight, are you?”
“What did you except to happen?” Riccardo throws up his hands. “Really, you become my friend and then you -what- think I can still do this?”
“That’s why I had a hostage,” Totelos snaps, rearing up and uncrossing his legs so his boot thumps down. “I wasn’t expecting you to be upset and then cry about it, I was expecting betrayal and anger!”
“What is Samia compared to you?” Riccardo admits. “You were the only one I could really trust. The only one who would put me first. You had no motive except to help me get stronger.”
“And now you have no one,” Totelos sneers.
“That was genuine fear in your eyes when I was hit with that spear.” Riccardo slowly paces up the steps of the dais. “You panicked. You killed all those people, an entire city, because they almost killed me.”
“I would have murdered them eventually anyway, I’ll slaughter all the humans,” Totelos argues. “If you died – do you know how long it takes the church to summon another hero? Another three fucking centuries of boredom in this wasteland with demons no better than animals wandering around as the only thing to entertain myself with?” His mouth snaps shut with a click of teeth. “What is your point?”
Riccardo stops in front of the throne. And then he just sits down on the top step, staring out into the massive hall filled with all the other heroes that came to defeat the demon king.
Totelos lunges out of the throne towards Riccardo’s back, a blade of shadow swinging through the air so fast it sings.
“Is that meant to be Chanwook?” Riccardo asks, pointing at a nearby statue.
Totelos stands, hand gripping the handle so hard his knuckles have turned white, the blade kissing the skin of Riccardo’s neck. “Don’t disappoint me. Not you. I put so much effort into you. You were going to be the strongest of them all.”
Riccardo looks over a shoulder and the blade draws a clean line across his neck when he turns into it. It soon beads with blood and starts to drip, soaking his collar. “You did this to yourself, Apolytus.”
“My name is Totelos,” he hisses, slashing the sword away and it splatters droplets of blood on the ground. “I am the eighth ruler of demonkind, son of Ruperta the Flame, the prophesised demon king to end this world in fire - but quite frankly I’ll choose whatever fucking manner I see fit.” The sword gushes into black steam and swells, grows into a broadsword with teeth, rattling scales, jutting spikes of bone and ore. “Why won’t you fight me?!”
And Riccardo, he just asks, “What have you done that’s so terribly worse than any other ruler in this world’s history?”
Totelos stares. “I’m the demon king.”
“I try not to be racist,” Riccardo huffs out a pathetic laugh. “Everything was so simple at first.”
“I made it simple,” Totelos retorts but the sword wisps away back into shadow. His hand falls back to his side. “You’re the one who made it complicated. Save the princess, kill the monster - no, you couldn’t leave it at that.”
“Was it bad?” Riccardo murmurs. “Was it boring travelling with me?”
“I just want to fight you,” Totelos admits.
“We can spar.”
“Don’t humour me like I’m a child.”
Riccardo purses his lips. “I was thinking we could go Naslo next. A few weeks by boat, fight some monsters over there. They have dragons, I heard. You like dragons.”
“Their dragons are pathetic,” Totelos mutters. He stumbles back until his legs hit the throne and he sits heavily. “Frinei has better ones.”
“Where’s that?”
“I don’t know. North-ish?”