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As Diavolo walked through the halls, he realized that the paintings on his walls seemed a bit different. Of course he recognized them, but certain details seemed either blurred on inaccurate altogether. It didnât bother him however. He was in familiar territory after all. So he continued, admiring each one and recounting the stories held within their frames.
It wasnât until he came to stand in front of a painting he had never seen before that Diavolo felt the first pangs of unease. But the contents werenât particularly unusual. In fact they were rather ordinary. A landscape of the sky and a quaint-looking forest with a few rays of sunshine peaking in. He felt no magic emanating from it. If it wasnât cursed, then why was it in his possession? He couldnât recall any legends that depicted such a scene.
The longer he stared at it, the more exasperated he became. Like there was something out of his reach that he couldnât understand. He leaned in closer to inspect the intricate brushstrokes of green and he felt a bit of triumph when he was finally able to make out a pair of eyes staring back at him. Of course! This was an enchanted forest with a magical creature inside of it. Although he didnât know which one, Diavolo was glad to have at least gathered that much.
He smiled, shaking his head slightly as he straightened up, briefly wondering whether it was time that he update his collection and brush up on his knowledge of the fae long forgotten to have existed in the Devildom. He looked again at the eyes and stiffened. They were glowing.
A rustle behind him quickly derailed his train of thought. An intruder? He didnât remember inviting anyone to his castle. A thief then. Diavolo had dealt with them before. Certainly the lower level demons were brave in thinking they could get away with stealing from him.
His own eyes lit up as he traced the foreign scent, intrigued by the speed with which it travelled. Always a step ahead. Funny, he thought, not even Mammon could out-do him like this.
The throne room. Thatâs where they were heading. Diavolo transformed, leaving a trail of black smoke and gold dust in his wake. They were going for the big one. The crown, perhaps?
Right as he had chased them to the heavy wooden doors, he saw the hint of a tail disappear behind them. His first thought was Barbatos, which was ridiculous. The only time heâd ever chased Barbatos was when heâd been younger and that was centuries ago. This was now. He knew it because heâd transformed at will.
The air seemed to shift as he entered. It was empty. Apparently demons still relied on cheap parlor tricks to get away with petty crime.
âShow yourself.â
No response. Not even a whisper of fear. That was dangerous. He could sense their presence, their formidable nature. He wasnât dealing with just any old demon. This one was clever, clever enough to conceal himself that Diavolo wasnât sure where to look.
And then he saw it. The tail heâd spotted was curled around the head of his throne, lazily resting on the gold ornament and he followed it into the shadows to a set of piercing cobalt eyes that bore into his own. Eyes that were reminiscent of those he saw in the painting.
He could only conclude that it had in fact been cursed and heâd summoned the creature directly out of it. How heâd done so would be an issue he could deal with later. Diavolo summoned his magic, feeling it furl around his hands. The creature seemed to approve.
âI would advise that you come quietly. I apologize for disturbing your painting.â
The creature made no motion to move so Diavolo began to step forward. Instead of relinquishing back into the darkness, it watched him. He saw its eyes sweep over his figure and found himself wanting to do the same. He wanted to see.
âCome into the light.â
Hesitation. Diavolo offered a smile.
âPlease? I donât think weâve met before.â
How odd. Suddenly it felt as if he was at a club trying to convince a stranger to dance with him.
But it worked. The creature mirrored his steps, taking as many as he himself had and Diavolo gasped. It was no creature. He was a demon. A demon he knew and a demon he admired.
There was tension, a thread of intimacy. The silhouette with blond hair sat down on his throne and Diavolo fell to his knees.
He woke to the sound of Barbatos opening the curtains. He often had prophetic dreams yet this one hadnât depicted any version of the future he had ever discussed with his butler. His heart was racing and his mind struggled to find a reason for what he saw. Strange. Diavolo had to admit that he had, in a way, been somewhat attracted to the beautiful man.
âGood morning, my Lord.â
âGood morning, Barbatos. Please cancel any meetings I have this morning.â
No questions were asked as Barbatos merely bowed his head. Diavolo felt the kick of adrenaline as he hastened to pull his uniform on.
âI need to visit the library.â
If Satan was going to have the nerve to visit him in his dreams, it was only fair that Diavolo pay him a visit in person.
