#devilsdaughtr

“Alright, in that case.” He waved to Clea and Wanda before walking through a hell portal returning to his home. He was torn as to tell his denizens or not. He cared for them but he could not ignore the fact that they were demons and should they know that nothing they do would have consequences after the next few days they may run wild. He couldn’t let that happen, especially if they made their way to the mortal world, causing the last moments of their existence to be full of pain panic and despair.

He continued to ponder that thought on his throne sipping his wine. “This is bullshit!” He shouted to himself before throwing the glass of wine across the room, quickly evaporated from the heat of the hellfire. Flames dripped from his eyes from his raw frustration. He was angry, he was sad, he was scared, but most of all he was regretful. He bult this kingdom and took control to help humanity, but in the process lost the majority of his connections to them. Stephen was dead, he was dead to Trish, Jess was... Well he can’t say he missed that ex that much. But even those he could consider his closest friends on the plane didn’t even care for him enough to humor the thought of hugging him or considering him a loved one. He hadn’t been hugged in years. Closest was his endeavors with incubi and succubi, but that was shallow, physical loveless. A king is truly a lonely existence. 

“Can’t just sit here any longer. I can’t be alone.” He said to himself feeling his heart race. His body grew tense, his breathing erratic, his limbs growing numb. Was this what a panic attack was like? Daimon Hellstrom, Son and Slayer of Satan having a panic attack? Couldn’t be. He shook his head refusing to believe it.