Princess of Hell

Back in our dormitory, I settled at my desk with a piece of infernal parchment, its dark surface shimmering faintly in the room's ambient light. Behind me, Aria rummaged through her wardrobe with characteristic enthusiasm.

"What are you planning now?" I asked, dipping my quill in the crimson ink.

"I'm thinking of hitting up Velvet Touch tonight," she said, holding up a particularly revealing purple ensemble against herself. "You know, that new club in the entertainment district? They supposedly have the most divine incubi dancers."

I nodded absently, already focusing on the delicate task ahead. Writing to Father required careful consideration—too much information would invite unwanted scrutiny, too little might not get me the help I needed.

"You should come with me when you're done," Aria continued, fastening a jewelled collar around her throat. "Dancing always helps clear your head, and you look like you could use some fun after today."

"Maybe," I said, though my attention was already on the letter. "If I finish this in time."

Aria appeared beside me, fully dressed and radiating excitement. "I'll be at Velvet Touch if you change your mind. The night's still young, and I intend to make the most of it."

She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before heading for the door. "Don't spend all night brooding, Lily. Some problems solve themselves better when you're not thinking about them."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the blank parchment. I began to write:

Father,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm writing because something unusual happened during my time at the Academy, and I believe it may be connected to what you taught me about True Magic in my childhood.

Recently, I manifested what I can only describe as magic unlike anything I've learned here. It felt… different. More fundamental than the spellwork we practice at the Academy.

The problem is that I haven't been able to reproduce the effect since. I've tried meditation, emotional triggers, even recreating the circumstances, but nothing works. It's as if the ability has vanished entirely.

Could you provide guidance on understanding and controlling such manifestations? I remember fragments of our lessons, but clearly not enough to proceed on my own.

Your devoted daughter,

Lily

I pressed my seal into the warm wax alongside a crimson droplet from my finger and then watched the letter as it dissolved into smoke, carrying my words across to the Ninth Circle.

With that done, I collapsed onto my bed, suddenly feeling the weight of everything that had happened. The feeding in London had provided temporary relief, but now the anxiety came rushing back.

"Mistress, is everything alright?"

I turned to see Bellas approaching with genuine concern in his blue eyes. He'd been so quiet I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Everything's fine," I said automatically, then paused. "Bellas, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Mistress."

"Do you ever miss your home?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard. His expression shifted, becoming more guarded. "I don't, Mistress. All I want is to serve you and Mistress Aria. That's my purpose now."

I studied his face, wondering how much of that response was genuine and how much was conditioning. Stockholm syndrome? Training? Or something worse—had he been so thoroughly broken that he actually believed it?

"What would you do if I took you back to your original world?" I asked quietly.

His face went slightly pale. "I would die, Mistress. My life essence is bound to Hell now. But if my death would bring you amusement, I would gladly—"

"Stop," I interrupted, disturbed by the casual way he offered his life. "I mean hypothetically. What if I could send you there without you dying? Answer truthfully."

For a long moment, he was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more vulnerable. "I suppose… I would want to see my family. To know if they're safe, if my people recovered from what happened to them."

His eyes grew distant. "I'd want to warn them not to make the same mistakes I did. Not to trust promises of power when desperation clouds judgment."

Then, as if catching himself, his posture straightened and the deferent mask slipped back into place. "But of course, I would only do such things if my Mistresses permitted it."

I sighed, wondering how many souls like Bellas populated Hell—people who took a wrong turn and now existed in a place that revelled in their suffering. Before I could pursue that troubling line of thought further, a letter materialized above my desk in a puff of crimson smoke.

Father's reply had arrived remarkably quickly.

* * *

I picked up the letter with trembling fingers, breaking the familiar seal that bore my father's mark. The parchment felt warm to the touch, as if it had travelled through flames to reach me.

My dearest Lily,

Your letter brings me great joy. It has been far too long since you've written to me directly.

What you describe is indeed possible. You carry my blood, and with it, the potential for abilities that transcend conventional magic. That you manifested such power, even briefly, confirms what I suspected but dared not hope for during your childhood.

I would be honoured to help you understand and develop this gift. Come to me whenever you wish—my schedule will accommodate yours. We have much to discuss about your heritage and what it means for your future.

Your loving father,

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Lucifer

I read the letter twice, noting the warmth in his words that contrasted sharply with his usual formal demeanour. There was an eagerness there, barely contained beneath his careful phrasing. The idea that he'd been hoping for this awakening all along sent a thrill through me.

Tomorrow. I would visit him tomorrow and finally get answers about the power that had saved Faith's life.

I folded the letter carefully and placed it in my desk drawer. The weight of anticipation settled in my chest—excitement mixed with nervous energy that made sitting still impossible.

"Bellas," I called softly.

He appeared at my side instantly, as always. "Yes, Mistress?"

I reached into my spatial ring and withdrew a handful of soul coins, their metallic surface gleaming dully in the lamplight.

"Take these," I said, pressing the coins into his hands. "Go do something you actually want to do for once."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Mistress, I don't understand—"

"And if anyone asks you why you're not attending to your duties, tell them I ordered you to do whatever it is you're doing." I waved my hand dismissively. "Consider it… a whim."

Bellas stared at the coins in his palm, then back at me. "Thank you, Mistress. This is incredibly generous—"

"It's nothing," I interrupted, uncomfortable with his gratitude. "Just my whim, like I said."

But even as I dismissed it, I felt a small spark of satisfaction at the genuine happiness that flickered across his features. Some part of my humanity still functioned, apparently, even if it was selective in its application. I still remembered watching Aria and Isabella torture that innocent elf in the Transition Zone without feeling more than idle curiosity. Yet here I was, giving Bellas a few hours of freedom because his earlier vulnerability had stirred something in me.

The contradiction didn't escape me. I still exploited him, still owned him, still participated in a system that treated sentient beings as property. But perhaps holding onto these small moments of compassion was better than losing my humanity entirely.

Bellas bowed deeply. "Thank you for this kindness, Mistress."

"Just don't get yourself killed," I said, already turning away. "I'd rather not explain to Aria why our slave vanished on my watch."

After he left, the room felt too quiet, too confined. My thoughts kept circling back to the letter, to tomorrow's meeting with my father, to the implications of having True Magic. I needed somewhere peaceful to think.

The library. Unlike Aria, who found books tedious, I'd always found the Infernal Library soothing. The soft whisper of floating tomes, the smell of ancient parchment, and Meridia's sardonic presence created an atmosphere of scholarly calm that appealed to the engineer in me.

I gathered my things and headed out into the Academy's corridors. The evening bustle had died down, with most students either in their rooms or out enjoying Ardorkeep's nightlife. My footsteps echoed softly against the stone floors as I made my way toward the library wing.

The massive doors stood open as always, revealing the familiar sight of towering bookshelves that stretched impossibly high. Books drifted through the air like lazy fireflies, occasionally settling back onto their shelves before growing restless and taking flight again.

Meridia sat slouched behind her desk, dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than usual. She glanced up as I entered, offering her characteristic half-hearted nod of acknowledgment.

"Evening miss Nightstar," she said in her flat monotone. "Looking for anything specific, or just hiding from your roommate's social activities?"

I smiled despite myself. Meridia's blunt observations were oddly comforting. "The latter, mostly. Though I might browse the sections on magical theory."

"Third aisle, halfway up. Though most of those texts are drier than Glacius in winter." She gestured vaguely toward the appropriate section. "Try not to fall asleep standing up. I'm not dragging unconscious students to the infirmary tonight."

I chuckled at Meridia's dry warning and headed toward the magical theory section, already feeling the familiar comfort of being surrounded by knowledge and the gentle rustling of floating books overhead.

* * *

The gentle sound of our dorm door opening pulled me from sleep. I blinked in the dim morning light filtering through our window, watching Aria slip inside with the careful movements of someone trying not to wake a roommate.

"Morning," I mumbled, sitting up and stretching.

Aria startled, then grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. You missed quite a lot of fun last night."

I rubbed my eyes and gave her a knowing look. "I think we have different ideas of fun, Aria."

"Oh please," she scoffed, dropping onto her bed and beginning to unlace her boots. "I know deep down you like it just as much as I do."

I considered this, tilting my head thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But if there's too much of something, it can get boring."

Aria paused in removing her second boot, giving me an incredulous stare. "Boring? Lily, we're talking about pleasure, not mathematics homework."

"Even pleasure can become routine if you indulge constantly," I replied with a shrug. "Anticipation makes everything sweeter."

She shook her head in mock despair. "You're impossible sometimes. Anyway, I'm going to take a shower." Her expression brightened with sudden mischief. "Want to join me? I could use someone to help clean my back."

The invitation hung in the air between us, and I felt that familiar warmth in my chest that Aria always managed to kindle. Despite my philosophical musings about moderation, I couldn't deny the appeal.

"Alright," I said, swinging my legs out of bed.

Aria's grin widened. "Good, because I really do need help with my back."

I stood and gave her a playful push toward the bathroom. "Strip yourself, then. I'm not your servant."

"Mmm, I like the way you think," she purred, already pulling her top over her head.

The bathroom filled with steam as Aria activated the magical heating elements. Unlike mortal showers that might run cold or lose pressure, ours maintained perfect temperature and flow through demonic enchantments. The water cascaded down in a steady, luxurious stream that never faltered.

Aria stepped under the spray first, her dark hair immediately plastering to her shoulders as water ran down her curves. She tilted her head back with a satisfied sigh, and I couldn't help but appreciate the elegant line of her throat.

"Are you going to stand there admiring the view all morning?" she teased without opening her eyes.

"Maybe," I replied, but moved to join her under the warm cascade.

The shower quickly became less about cleanliness and more about exploration. Aria's hands found the soap, working up a rich lather that she spread across my shoulders with deliberate slowness. Her touch lingered, fingers tracing patterns across my skin that had nothing to do with washing.

"Your back really is beautiful," she murmured against my ear, her breath sending shivers down my spine despite the warm water.

I leaned into her touch, letting out a soft sigh as her hands worked lower. "Is that your professional assessment?"

"Absolutely," she whispered, pressing closer until I could feel the heat of her body against mine. "Very thorough examination required."

Her hands moved with practiced skill, finding all the places that made me gasp and arch against her. The sound of water mixed with our increasingly breathless moans as we explored each other with soap-slicked fingers and lingering caresses.

When we finally emerged from the shower, both thoroughly clean and thoroughly satisfied, I felt boneless with contentment. I collapsed onto my bed with a satisfied groan, still damp hair spread across my pillow.

"That was definitely worth waking up for," I admitted.

Aria laughed, towelling off her hair. "See? I told you that you like it."

"I never said I didn't." I stretched luxuriously, then remembered my plans for the day. "Speaking of which, I'm going to visit my father today."

Aria paused in her towelling. "Your father? As in…"

"Lucifer, yes." I propped myself up on my elbows. "Want to come with me?"

Her eyes went wide. "Me? At the palace?" She stood frozen for a moment, then suddenly shouted, "Of course!"

I winced at the volume. "Aria, it's still early—"

"I'm so going to brag about this to Isabella," she continued, bouncing slightly on her toes. "I'll be at the palace before her! She's going to be so jealous."

I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "It's not a competition, you know."

"Everything's a competition when it comes to bragging rights," Aria declared, already moving toward her wardrobe. "What does one wear to meet the King of Hell? I need to make a good impression."

"Just be yourself," I said, settling back onto my pillow. "Though maybe tone down the volume a bit. Father appreciates wit more than enthusiasm."

Aria nodded seriously, as if I'd just given her crucial intelligence for a military operation. "Wit. Got it. I can do wit."

I watched her rummage through her clothes with determined focus and felt a warm flutter of affection. Whatever challenges lay ahead with my father and the mysteries of True Magic, at least I'd have Aria's irrepressible spirit beside me.