My Sacrifice

Author\'s Note: Alright, this is a story I\'ve been working on for quite a bit, I\'m doing it for a friend of mine, but I figure that it might get me to write faster if I can manage to have some pressure.
Belial is my character, Samael is hers... Lucifer is Lucifer... The first chapters are angsty, it gets better afterwards ^^;

My sacrifice
Intro

This desert was wide. Not only was it wide, but it got very lonely. Oh, it was far from empty, there was nothing down in Hell that was sheer emptiness, but it still was lonely. The sands of these vast plains were licking down to the very base of the tall castle. This fortress was strong and mighty, but in a desert of loneliness. Lost in a plain, wide desert. The winds were blowing, chanting and pulling the sands in a dance that was both entrancing and macabre. The breeze was singing to no one’s ear, or so it seemed, a sad sound for a sad place.

It was late in the night, though in those forsaken lands, the notions of nights and days hardly existed, it was still the night. No sun was shining for the banished of Hell, and no moon was shimmering down either. Hours were passing and yet it did not change anything, everyone just knew that it was night, that it was time to rest or to party, either was working the better. And at night, what was suppressing the gentle complain of the winds were the screams of the many victims being tortured down in The Pits of a neighbouring kingdom. Those screams of despair were filling every inch of that wide desert, making it look like the worse place to be down in Hell. With no tree, rock or cliff to stop the sound, even the snapping of the whips was heard above the sand dunes. It was a terrible place to be, most demons knew that, though it was not due to the cries or because of the climate. It was the realm of the Fallen Angels.

If Hell was a lonely place to be, Byleth’s kingdom had to be the worse. There was not only the desert, but what lay past the eastern mountains belonged to Belial, but that was a whole other story. And so, that night, lost in the desert of Byleth’s kingdom, someone was actually taking in the whistling of the breeze of the sand.

Belial was just one of those demons whose existence was lonesome. It was lonesome to a point he could not explain, and he would try filling the void within himself at all costs. A childish way to act, but that was simply how he was. He had people around him, of course, but he was still lonely. No matter how many people were there, none seemed to be for the right reason. So not only was he feeling lonely, he was irritated and misunderstood. But that night, he was calm, serene and still lonely, he was listening to those winds that did not want to calm, looking to those skies who did not want to light up, announcing the morning. In that one room, up the highest tower of his Byleth’s mighty castle, he was resting.

The door of his room was closed, but the window still was open so he could listen to the melodies of the invisible troubadour outside. There was a form resting close to him, tangled up in those silk sheets, sleeping like a baby would. The heavy body was lifting with every deep breath, and the dark strands of hair were pushed back just enough to expose a part of the demon’s tanned face.
Byleth always was beautiful when he was sleeping. No one would ever deny him that much. Behind him were resting those long, dark wings. A few feathers had fallen to the ground while they were passionately making love, but neither seemed to have cared about that. The King had enough to compensate the loss. He truly was a beautiful man, and sometimes Belial would just wonder what it was about him that he disliked enough to always push him away. He did not understand what made it so that he could not have feelings for his King. He was a loyal friend, but he was not as closed as Byleth had always wished him to be… sometimes he simply wondered why.

The very small demon bowed and closed his eyes for a moment, his heart lost into the listening of this music, while his thoughts were drifting over to his complex relationship with his master. It was nice to see him sleep like this, so comfortable close to him, and yet it was weird to be ever smaller than any of his partner. Belial just smiled wearily, running his fingers onto the other demon’s cheek, touching the skin as if it was the first time, though he often did that when they were alone at night, when his King would be sleeping against him while he would just think about it all. When looking at him, no one would have believed that Belial was prone to such thinking, but he could not be otherwise.

And then he heard it.

That sound was not one from The Pits.

That scream was not carried by the winds, it was one of pain.

And it came from the castle.