Becoming Fae
Talking to a Chair

It happened in the snap of a finger. I suspected that the throne room wasn’t cheerfully lit to begin with, since most of the light in the place came from lava and the place was spelled to be bearable instead of stifling, but in an instant of blinding pain, I was looking at a different throne room. I was actually able to see! It was amazing and wholly welcome to be able to use my eyes to see actual things, not auras and shadows.

Wrath was gone. So were the demons that had littered the floor. The place had a red haze to it, like looking through a colored lens that was slightly warped around the edges. It looked... well, it looked pretty freaking scary, if I’m being honest.

I was back near the door and instead of seeing a fancy, demonic chair, there was a man standing where it had been. He looked like a less... intense version of Immail. He had the same dark red skin and horns, the same eyes, and identical facial features. He was more human looking, though. Not over-sized and terrifying, though those horns sure as heck would make anyone fear for their life. Change his skin to something not a primary color and remove those horns and you could walk right by him and not suspect at thing.

“Fated Heir,” he hissed, and I frowned. “I will allow none to claim me should you not be worthy.”

“You picked me, Fancy Pants, so don’t complain about the slim pickin’s,” I scoffed.

“My pants are not fancy,” he frowned at me.

“Oh, good gravy boat,” I groaned and smacked my hand over my face. “Another one of those annoyingly literal people.”

“I’m not a person,” he snapped at me.

“Fine. Personality, then,” I huffed and waved my hand. “So, how do we do this? Play rock-paper-scissors, pick a card, guess a number between one and ten?”

“What?” he asked, frowning deeper.

“I’m here to claim you,” I pointed at him. “I intend to do so, regardless of your approval, so the sooner we get the details worked out, the sooner I can park my butt all over your lap. Wow, that sounded different in my head.”

“You are very strange,” he cocked his head at me.

“Says the personified chair,” I crossed my arms and leveled a look at him. “Now, how are we going to move froward from here?”

“How do you think, Fated Heir?” he grinned flashing sharp teeth and wicked fangs as he materialized a sword in his hand.

“Oh, good. I was hoping for more bleeding,” I rolled my eyes as I snapped my own weapons into my hands. “I have too much of the stuff still in in my veins, so let the blood flow.”

If I though Wrath hit hard, the Throne was worse. I couldn’t keep blocking him or I’d risk going numb and making a mistake. So, I had to dodge as much as I could. I was barely managing to get out of the way before he was correcting and adjusting his aim mid-stroke, which was insanely impressive. I was getting bruised up as I ducked and rolled and hit the ground more times than I thought I could stand. Every move I made, I barely managed to stay out of reach by only a fraction of a second before I had to move again.

The Throne remained calm and stoic the entire time, swinging, jabbing, and slashing as he moved to follow me around the throne room. Super creepy, in my opinion, but I wasn’t about to take the time to comment, especially when he seemed more than content to lop off my head and mount it on a spike somewhere. I mean, it was a demonic castle. There had to be head spikes somewhere, right?

I used my wings to give me extra space, but unlike with any of the other non-winged sparring partners I had, the Throne didn’t need the lift to help him stay close to me. He had speed and maneuverability that no one else did and I just knew that he wasn’t giving it his best effort. I was barely keeping up with him as it was, so when he did put in effort, I was going to die.

’Here lies Fae,

She tried,

She failed,

She got killed by a chair.′

Fantastic grave marker aside, I vowed to put my butt on the Throne, not get it handed to me by said Throne, personified or not. Granted, I also didn’t count on it holding a weapon, so... Yeah, I’ll just have to get creative, but I needed some space between me and this killer hiney holder in order to think.

I could feel the same pulse all around me here and I had no idea what it was, but something was pushing me toward using it somehow. Like when Blaine was in the depths of his Fury and I ended up claiming him, I shut off the higher part of my mind and let that... thing, speak to me.

‘SMITE!’

I should smack myself for not thinking of it sooner.

What’s the best way to defeat a demon?

Celestial powered magic.

What the best way to get rid of an unwanted piece of furniture?

Set it on fire and grab a marshmallow.

I couldn’t do anything with him in my face. The magic might come from me, but I was also part demon. I didn’t think shish-ka-Fae would be all that pleasant, so I needed to find a way to get the Throne away from me long enough to bring up the magic I needed.

The pulsing grew quicker and more insistent and it started bringing forth something decidedly ‘other’. It was like rage, yet oddly seemed like it was promising cathartic release if I gave in to it. I called to all of the bad I felt inside of me. The anger, the fear, the insecurity, the unforgiving hatred was all being amplified more and more with every beat that pressed in on me. It made it exceedingly difficult to focus on the part of my magic I hadn’t practiced with. I needed it, but I feared it as well.

‘SMITE!’

The feline demon eyes glowed as the Throne’s proxy bore down on me again, just as passively and just as deadly as ever, yet something odd niggled in the back of my mind. Something that said I was about to make a mistake. A warning that, if I did what I was told, if I trusted this thing inside of me, I would die.

‘I created the Throne to help control the uncontrollable.’

“I need your help!” I shouted and the Throne stopped mid-swing and stared at me. “Are you going to stop trying to kill me for a bit so I can talk or are we going to keep with the slicing and hacking?”

“Speak, Fated Heir,” he said, but didn’t move a muscle more.

“Gods, you are creepy,” I blinked, then shook my head. “Look, you were made to help Immail control demonkind. They don’t need that kind of leading anymore, though. What they need is someone who can put aside their own issues and problems for the betterment of something bigger than themselves.”

“And you are this person?” he asked.

“Gods, no,” I recoiled. “I mean, I can try to be, but I’ve got a pretty crappy track record so far. I don’t know who exactly fits that, but... I’m going to level with you, here; I don’t want to claim you. Not really. I mean, I do, or I wouldn’t be here, but I don’t want to lead. I don’t want to even pick what I have for breakfast most days. I leave that up to my Bonded because I am not a morning person. I don’t have a choice and I’m thinking you don’t really have one either.”

“You were chosen by something beyond me,” he nodded shortly.

“And this,” I held my arms open, “Is the only way you get to have any kind of control, which is kind of the whole reason you were made. To control.”

“I don’t wish to be a tool, used and then discarded,” he bared his teeth.

“No one wants to be used like a disposable tool,” I agreed. “But you are a tool. At least, it’s what you were made to be. If there was a way to give you something different I would do it. The most I can do is destroy you, which I admit is kind of the plan. I need your help to stop a war before it becomes too large to keep contained. I need to call the Legions and get things back to right again, but I can’t do that without you.”

“I will not be used then abandoned,” he glared.

“The plan was never to use you than walk away. I was going to use your influence to call the Legions and clean house, but then I was going to destroy you,” I admitted. “But plans change all the time. Now, I’m here asking for your help instead of demanding your obedience. I’m giving you a choice. I’m letting you control this outcome.”

“Why would I agree to you destroying me?” he gave me a flat look.

“Maybe there’s a different way?” I paced as I thought. “Immail is alive. You could allow him to claim you again?”

“He abandoned me for that... thing!” he hissed, and I held up my hands.

“Okay, okay. No Immail. What about Garloth? Do you know who that is?”

“I have seen him many times. He is not worthy,” he replied simply.

“My mother?” I winced.

“Never,” he growled.

“Wow, that was... violent,” I shook my head, then I snapped my fingers. “Rollie!”

“I don’t know this person,” he frowned.

“Um... Roltak?” I tried and he narrowed his eyes. “Of Valkeen?”

“Possibly,” he said after a long silence.

“Better than nothing,” I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. “How do you know about Rollie, though? He and Hadria never made it this far.”

“I am connected to you people through Immail’s blood,” he glared. “The taint is not as deep in you as others. It is, oddly, balanced. But that curse is...interesting.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I rolled my eyes.

“And you have... something here,” he touched his chest, then mine. “It’s more of the taint, but it’s different. It, too, is balancing the curse.”

“Um... thanks?” I guessed.

“Are you sure you don’t wish to claim me?” he asked, looking me up and down critically. “You are very young. You could grow into the role.”

“I just want to love my Bonded and raise a family with him in peace without the fear of something happening to them,” I shook my head. “But Rollie would be a great choice as well.”

“No, I think not,” he inspected me further.

“Can you stop looking at me like that? It’s making me feel really exposed and uncomfortable,” I dropped a wing around myself and turned slightly.

“You truly wish to give me a choice? To allow me to control more of my existence?” he asked.

“Now, yes,” I nodded.

“Why did you wish to destroy me?” he asked.

“Being Immail’s heir to the Infernal Throne has turned me into a demon beacon,” I grumbled. “You can’t remain unclaimed because every demon with big enough balls will try to kill me in order to take you. I can’t just walk away once I claim you either.” He growled and I put my hand on my hip and pointed at him, “Don’t get pissy. This was all thought out before I knew this was a thing.”

“So, you decided killing me was the best solution?”

“Hey, I tried to get someone else to step in,” I shrugged. “Even offered Immail the chance to get in here, but he’s convinced you’ll kill him, for various reasons. I’m not sure you wouldn’t, so... Yeah.”

“This... Rollie, is a fine choice for daily duties,” he said thoughtfully. “But I do not think he will be worthy of claiming the power I hold. You would be better suited to that, but as you said, you are unfit to lead.”

“Okay, ouch. Try to soften the blow next time. Truth hurts,” I winced.

“I will allow you to claim me,” he declared. “You will have the power you say you need. You can call the Legions to your bidding, but this Rollie will sit upon me as the ruler, should he agree. If he refuses, you must do both and we will pray you don’t destroy us all before you figure it out.”

“Again, ouch,” I flinched. “Gods, you’re brutal.”

“It’s done. This is going to hurt,” he warned me as he lifted his sword and ran it right through my heart.

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