Chapter Text
“Welcome, my lady.”
The staff at the Demon Lord’s Castle greeted you with dutiful bows. If they were surprised at the punctuality of your arrival, they showed no signs of it and ushered you inside. As per your previous visits, they were all cordial. Most of them even looked excited, and you felt a pang of guilt for deceiving them all this time.
Originally, the demon brothers had planned for your grand arrival with all seven of them escorting you to the ballroom. Due to your change of plans, however, you made excuses and admitted you had matters to discuss with Diavolo before the celebratory ball, intentionally leaving out any specifics. You persuaded them by divulging your plan of handing Diavolo the baked goods you prepared as a gift. In the end, the demon brothers reluctantly relented. You patted yourself on the back for remaining firm despite your gratitude for the Seven Rulers of Hell. It was a difficult feat to accomplish.
The day after your conversation with Solomon, you headed to town and purchased an outfit for the celebratory ball on your own rather than using those hanging on the racks of the prophesied Queen’s closet at the Demon Lord’s Castle. It was the first step in your departure from your role as the faux Queen. While browsing at one of your favorite boutiques, you found a red embroidered evening gown that completely covered your back and was zipped from the side. It was simpler than any of the formalwear in the Queen’s closet, but it wasn’t as if you would be at the party to impress anyone nor enjoy yourself.
It would be the last time you would pretend to be Diavolo’s other half. After this event, everything would be over.
A bittersweet feeling flooded your chest, but when you looked back at the moments you shared with Diavolo, you were unable to deny the truth to yourself: you’d do it all again if you could.
Your high heels click-clacked on the polished floor as you approached Diavolo’s study. Before anything else, you peeked inside and only entered the room once you found it empty. You shut the door and went over to his desk. The kisses you shared with him the other day were still fresh in your mind. In a span of a few days, your circumstances with him had completely changed. It was strange to stand in the same place with that realization gnawing at your gut.
Gingerly, you set the pastry box on Diavolo’s table, pulled a sticky note from his tall stack, and wrote a short thank you note for him. A small sense of finality washed over you as you signed your name and placed it on the box. It was cowardly of you to give him your gift like this, but once you’d told him you’d end this charade with him, he might decline it. You were already hurting, and as much as possible, you wanted to lessen the impact of his rejection.
After leaving his study and roaming around the castle, Diavolo remained nowhere in sight. You took a wild guess and went to the gazebo, a tinge of dread in your steps when you found out you were right. As tall and regal as he was during the first time you saw him, he stood and gazed at the lake, its tranquility one with its beholder.
“Diavolo,” you called.
“Hello there.” He turned his head to look at you, his lips breaking into a smile. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you replied and moved forward, taking in the sight of him in formalwear. “You look great, as always.”
“You flatter me.”
“It’s the truth.” Once you reached the gazebo, you stayed at the threshold, ready to leave once you had said what you needed to tell him. “By the way, I left something for you in your study.”
“A gift?”
“That’s right. Some pastries. I baked them myself.”
“Let’s eat them together later. We can have our own after-party.”
“No, I made them for you. And we’ll get full at the banquet, won’t we?”
“There’s always room for dessert.” He laughed at his own quip and gestured over the lake. “Why don’t you stand beside me? The view is quite splendid.”
“It’s fine. I can admire it from afar.” Unwavering, you remained rooted at your spot. The lake was majestic, but it wasn’t what you were here for tonight. You hid your shaky hands behind your back and fiddled with your fingers, taking a deep breath as you returned your complete attention to Diavolo. “I have something to tell you. It’s important.”
“You can tell me anything, my princess.”
“I’m sorry, Diavolo,” you said, “but let’s end this.”
A long pause passed before he clarified with uncertainty, “The party?”
“Not that. I meant this—whatever’s between us—let’s end it.”
“What? Why? Have I done something to displease you?” Diavolo interrogated, his entire demeanor shifting into a panicked one. He stepped closer to you, but you retreated and exited the gazebo entirely. It dawned on him: his pursuit would cause you to fall further back. A grim expression on his face, he came to a halt and demanded, “Tell me.”
“No, Diavolo. Far from it,” you confessed with a sad smile. “You’re the Prince of the Devildom, and you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”
“If so, then what’s the problem?”
“I’m in love with you.”
“And?”
And? That’s all he has to say? you thought bitterly, hurt your confession warranted such a lackluster reaction. “I can’t keep doing this when there’s someone else meant to be by your side.”
Diavolo stiffened. “Someone… else…?”
“Yes. I can’t pretend to be the Queen in the prophecy anymore. I love you. A lot. And it’s hurting me, so please, let’s end this.”
Instead of replying, Diavolo kept quiet.
Unable to take his silence any longer, you averted your gaze and proceeded to wrap up the conversation. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’ll attend the party. You’re free to clarify this tonight or I can pretend to be your Queen one last time, whichever works for you. But please make sure to clear up the misunderstanding in the future.”
“You’re under the impression,” he paused and let out a laugh in an icy tone you’d never heard from him before, “that we’re pretending to be together?”
Chills ran down your spine. The question he uttered made you more nervous than you ever were tonight. Diavolo’s deep voice dripped with realization, incredulity, but most of all, rage.
You were in trouble.
“You’re right. There’s been a misunderstanding.” He let out a menacing laugh and strode in your direction. Instinctively, you attempted to put space between the two of you, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, wrapping both of his arms around your waist so quickly you didn’t have the chance to step away and flee. “All the times you said you were happy, whenever you told me you were looking forward to seeing me, when you agreed we looked like a great couple, you weren’t lying.”
“I wasn’t,” you acknowledged, your tense body gradually going lax at his touch. The familiar scent of his cologne made your mind hazy as you breathed in. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I might have pretended to be your lover, but I’ve been true to you. That’s why we have to end this.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.” Diavolo bent his head and whispered in your ear, “I never lie, did you know?”
You didn’t.
His words prompted your head to swirl with scenes of your interactions, one of them standing out among the rest.
“So, that day… when Maddi confronted us about the prophecy,” you paused, your eyes wide as you tilted your head to meet his gaze, “y-you meant every word you said?”
“Yes, you’re the one for me. The only one,” he declared, embracing you tighter. “Shall I prove it to you?”
Once the question left his lips, Diavolo’s eyes glowed, and the next thing you knew, the sights around you shifted from the gazebo to the Queen’s closet. He refused to let you go, and you were faintly aware you were in the corner of the room as your hips nudged the wooden edge of the grand vanity table. Fortunately, the surface was vacant since all the cosmetics remained in the drawers, or else they would have already toppled on the floor.
Diavolo asked, “Do you know what’s on your back?”
“How did you—”
“I saw. When we had breakfast together, during that day when you agreed to pretend to be my lover.” His fingers brushed the nape of your neck and slid down to your spine, his large palm resting over your back. “Do you know what’s written here?”
“My soulmark.”
“It’s more special than that.”
“How come?”
“Have you seen it?”
You shook your head. “I’ve never dared to. I don’t like it... and I’m… scared of it.”
“Do you like me?”
“I love you.”
“Are you scared of me?”
“No.”
“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to dislike or be scared of your mark.”
As he had revealed to you moments ago, Diavolo never lied. You trusted him. If he was certain he was your soulmate, you had nothing to fear. “Okay, but I have to remove my dress, so if you will, the door is that way.”
Diavolo released you with a quiet laugh. A familiar mischievous smile played on his lips, he shook his head. Determinedly, he reasoned, “I can’t afford any more misunderstandings with you.”
Instead of leaving, he moved and settled down a few steps within your reach. He gave you free rein over the space in front of the mirror and crossed his arms, waiting.
Conceding, you sighed and shook your head in exasperation. There was no way you could convince him to leave. You raised your fingers to pull the zipper from your side, but the eyes trained on you were too intense, you almost turned—if not for the fact you’d still see him admiring your actions from the mirror which, strangely, felt more intimate. Averting your gaze, you stripped out of your evening gown. You thought of making your way to the chaise and laying down your outfit on it, but your hands felt too shaky, and your feet felt too cold. The crimson cloth slipped away from your fingers and pooled on the floor.
Donned only in your lingerie, you were exposed, and your back was ready for your revelation. Fear threatened you to put an end to this mess through flight, but your trust and affection for the man standing in front of you led you to fight this fear and face it head-on.
And then, on your own volition, you finally looked at what was imprinted on your back: the soulmark you once resented but now gave you hope and promise.
Once you saw it, you felt grateful for your unknowingly wise decision of hiding it from everyone who asked about it in the human world.
“No way…” you murmured, unable to tear your gaze from your back’s reflection.
Three numbers were written vertically over your spine:
6
6
6
Diavolo approached you, his arm moving past your waist and resting on the table. He tilted his head to the side, and like you, openly gazed at your soulmark’s reflection in the mirror. His fingertip traced over the numbers, one after another, earning a soft gasp from you. “You know what this means, yes?”
You did.
The Devil’s Number.
Devil.
Diavolo.
Speechless, you turned your face and stared at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.
“Do you honestly believe I could be this good at pretending to be in love with you?” Diavolo questioned and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “You think too highly of me.”
“Do you really… love me?” you whispered.
“Listen well, my princess,” Diavolo embraced you and stroked your hair. “I love you.”
Tears streamed down your cheeks, dampening his suit, but neither of you cared. “The prophecy…”
“It’s about you.”
“So, all this time…”
He sighed and grimaced. “Yes.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“I am,” he said, releasing you to wipe your tears with his thumbs. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with it.”
Diavolo cradled your cheeks and bent his head to kiss you. After you decided to break things off with him, you had accepted you’d never be as close to him as you were before, but here you were. Eyes closed, you basked in his affection, which you now know was true and meant only for you. Despite the anger he admitted to, the sensation of his lips on yours was warm and forgiving. When you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and deepened your kisses, the soft sigh that escaped his lips was all you needed to know he was relieved. It put him at ease that you loved him and weren’t going to leave him. It was a sentiment that mirrored yours.
Breathless, he leaned back and met your heated gaze. The crackling tension between the two of you grew from powerful to electrifying, a telltale sign of a singular ending to this encounter. It was a resolution you never dared to consider when you entered this castle tonight, but it was one you had no complaints about. He needed this—needed you—and you’d be damned if you were going to let this end like it did last time.
“Will you indulge me?” His fingers grazed your mark once more as he took the clasp of your bra between them and unhooked it in one go. “Rather, would you indulge in me, my princess?”
“Here? Now? The celebratory ball is going to start soon,” you teased, tugging his bow tie with your index finger and unfastening it.
“Our unfinished business is more important,” Diavolo reminded you, his suit jacket falling on top of your dress. You unbuttoned his shirt and brushed your lips on his collarbone, the tip of your tongue teasing his exposed skin. He sighed and continued, “You have no idea what you do to me. I’ve wanted you for so long, but it seems my feelings didn’t come across properly. I’ll make it so you’ll never have any doubts about us ever again.”
Diavolo guided you to sit on the dresser and began kissing your neck, freshening the faded lovebites he had made and adding more as he caressed your breasts with his palms and dragged his thumbs over your hardening buds. His ministrations were languid and tender, but every contact with his mouth and fingers left you squirming, eager for him to quicken his pace and pay attention to where you needed him the most.
“When you first arrived here, I just knew… I have to have you all to myself,” he confessed.
As his lips reached your abdomen, Diavolo went down on one knee. To you, he looked like a knight receiving an accolade from his monarch; as if the vanity table was your throne, and he was promising himself to you. Perhaps, it would be more appropriate to liken him to the prince who had finally found his elusive Cinderella. But perhaps not—as unlike that prince, he was removing your high heels and setting them aside. Desire and reverence filled his eyes as he tilted his head and stared at your bare form, your chest rising and falling in anticipation.
“Now, everyone’s going to know you're mine,” he vowed, hooking your panties at the side and sliding them down your legs, “including you.”
Your mouth parted in a soundless groan as Diavolo kissed the inside of your knees.
“What do you say, my princess?”
Anticipation pooled at the pit of your stomach. A slow, coquettish smile made its way on your lips. Above all else, you wanted him to know you were eager for this as much as he was—that you desired him as much as he desired you. You raised your legs and beckoned him closer by spreading them and letting your calves and feet rest over his wide shoulders. “Show me.”
He smirked, pleased with your answer. Wordlessly, he kissed and nipped at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Tilting his head lower, his warm breath ghosted over the apex of your legs, his lips hovering over your sex. The first swipe of his tongue was gentle. He let you familiarize yourself with the sensation before he licked you where it was the most pleasurable. When he did, the sharp inhale you took didn’t escape his notice. He knew what he was doing, flicking his tongue and sucking at that little bundle of nerves with the right amount of pressure, in the way you never knew you wanted it. His index and middle finger over the sides of your entrance, his tongue plunged inside you. It triggered a sudden movement of your hips, but he held you in place and steadied you with his other hand, his ministrations never faltering, coaxing a diminutive moan out of your lips.
“You hear that?” he murmured, pertaining to the sound the shallow thrust of his middle finger made. Those three words sent a pleasurable wave from his lips to your groin, making you curl your toes and your back arch against the mirror. “We’ve only just begun, and you’re already so wet for me.”
“Stop teasing me so much,” you whined. You reached out to brush his hair and thread your fingers between its strands, but at the quickening pace of his hand, you ended up tugging at his locks instead.
“It’s because you’re holding back,” Diavolo pointed out with a soft chuckle. He peered at your face and waited for your reaction as he added a second—and soon, a third —finger into the mix. “Let me hear you. I know you can be louder than that.”
Even if you wanted to subdue the gratified noises threatening to fill the room, you were helpless against his earnest pursuit of your peak. He pumped his fingers in and out of you over and over, making you cry out as you reveled in the sensation of your release. At a rhythmless pace, your hips shifted against his face once more, only this time he let you ride out and enjoy the most out of your climax.
Diavolo might be all refined, dignified, and gentlemanly, but now that you had brought out the lascivious side of him—the raw and sinful part of him he kept in the dark to many—he was relentless. He straightened his body and licked his damp lips, savoring your taste. It was a look that told you that there was more to come—that he had more to give.
Eyes bleary, you were faintly aware of it as Diavolo stood. You did likewise, albeit unsteadily, and allowed him to turn your body around. With a light press of his palm over your back, he inclined you downward. Your fingers grasped the edge of the table, and the vision of your flushed state connected with your eyes in the glass. Above your likeness, Diavolo’s reflection smirked at you. Then and there, your earlier thoughts about him admiring you from the mirror were proven correct: everything about this was intimate, enthralling, and insanely sensual.
Diavolo pressed his lips on the numbers on your spine, and your legs wobbled as you shivered. He held you by the waist, his torso perfectly fitting over your back as his other hand worked on his trousers and guided himself near your fluttering entrance, the tip touching you but not entering. His lips tickled your ear, and he dragged them across the lobe and tugged at it. With a soft but demanding voice, he urged you, “Say it.”
Still in a daze from your climax but covetous of another, you were ready to do whatever he wanted you to do. “Say what?”
“Say you’re mine.” He nudged his length between your sensitive folds. He felt so good, and you knew he was going to feel even better once he was inside you.
“I’m yours,” you vowed, shifting your lower half to sheathe him. “I’m yours—only yours! Now, please Diavolo!”
He was delivering what he had promised earlier, showing you how you were his. At the same time, you wanted him to show you he was yours, too. Yearning to be connected to him in some way, you turned your head to meet his lips with your own. Instead of replying with words, he slipped his tongue past your mouth and kissed you deeper. He gripped your hips and eased himself inside your core.
Startled, you pulled your lips away and faced forward with a soft gasp. Although you had an idea of his size and girth from your foreplay, he still felt more than you expected. He was only halfway in, and yet, you were already biting your lower lip to suppress a pleasured scream from coming out of you.
His pace was tantalizingly unhurried. Again and again, he drew back and thrust inside you—only to stop midway.
It was frustrating. You were capable of taking all of him, and you knew it.
“Harder,” you pleaded, “Do it harder… Please!”
With a kiss on your shoulder, he chuckled and replied, “As you wish, my princess.”
He gave you what you asked for and eased himself fully inside you. Once you accommodated his length, your eyes fluttered closed reflexively. Yes, this was it. This was exactly what you needed. Your breath hitched as he slowly drew back until his tip remained in your entrance, and in a second, he plunged inside you again. “Y-Yes, just like… like that.”
Diavolo groaned, increasing his pace. His fingers dug at your hips, and the erotic sound of skin slapping filled your ears. He leaned back and let out a low hum of appreciation as you took every inch of him perfectly. His voice strained and lacking its usual composure, he remarked, “Feels even better than I imagined.”
Well, damn.
The image of him touching himself to the thought of you was enough to make you shudder with arousal, but the pleasure of having him, in reality, was beyond any vision your mind could conjure up. You clenched around him, coaxing a grunt and a loud moan from his parted lips. He gritted his teeth and tightly shut his eyes, the rhythm he had set gradually turning rougher.
“Fuck!” you moaned, “Diavolo, I… I-I’m gonna—”
He sensed it. His pace refused to falter, and you reached your climax within seconds. You witnessed how much of a mess you turned to in the mirror, but you couldn’t care less. It was Diavolo who made you this way, after all. Your arms and legs gave out as you shuddered, but he readily caught you before you could fall to the ground.
Diavolo unsheathed himself from you and returned you to your seated position. He kissed your hair and shifted his lips near your ear. “More?”
“Y-Yes.”
Gently, he held one of your legs up and propped your ankle on his shoulder. His other hand clamped over your bent knee. He entered your slick heat, and this time, you were able to accommodate him at once.
“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, his golden eyes following the movement as he thrust in and out of you. “Good girl.”
For the third time tonight, he drove you over the edge, but your earlier climax caused your current race to the peak to be agonizing. You feel it dangling over you, but at the same time, it was out of your reach. Distressed, you exclaimed, “I can’t!”
“You can,” he countered, giving it to you harder, “and you will.”
The fervor in his promise remained inexorable, and the tremor in his voice hinted at his impending climax.
You grabbed his wrist and shifted your leg downward, determined. He realized what you were trying to do as you held your arms up and wrapped your legs around his hips. Chuckling, he lifted you up with ease and held you in his arms firmly. You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him. He gripped your thighs and slid you up and down his length, returning to the rough momentum you had moments ago in sought of the heat the both of you had built up.
Little by little, his pace turned uneven. His breathing was labored and warm against your skin.
“I want to see you come,” you told him. The familiar coil in your abdomen unfurling, your voice grew louder as you cried out, “Fill me up, Diavolo. You’re mine.”
As soon as you said those words, euphoria washed over every fiber of your being. This was the highest you’d ever felt, and you were certain no feeling could compare to this. No other being could compare to him. Diavolo was the only one for you.
In a split second, his jaw slackened and his eyes closed, groaning unabashedly and calling out your name. He continued thrusting inside you, never sliding out he chased his own peak. Trembling, he throbbed and filled you up as you asked, the warm and wet liquid dribbling down the inside of your thighs with his final thrust.
Panting, the two of you remained still as you came down from your respective highs.
It was you who broke the silence a few moments later. “I love you.”
He smiled and stroked your hair. “I love you too, my princess.”
The tender moment was shattered by the sudden increase of temperature on your back. Pain derived from your soulmark and spread over to your shoulders and hips. It rapidly grew hotter until it was sweltering. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer.
“Diavolo!” you cried, “My back—it’s burning!”
The touch of his bare skin was comforting, and somehow, his presence alleviated the agony. However, the invisible fire grew more intense. You could do nothing but let out a scream on his shoulder and cling to him.
Diavolo hooked one of his arms under your knees and carried you to the connecting bathroom. He placed you in the bathtub and made sure your head rested on the area gently. As the cold water rose and filled the tub, he caressed your forearm and held your hand reassuringly.
Your throat felt parched, you couldn’t say anything although you longed to.
He cupped your cheek and wiped the tears you were unaware you were shedding. “Shhh… It’ll be alright. I’m here. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll stay with you and...”
Before you could hear the rest of Diavolo’s words of comfort, everything had gone black.
Vivid visions of the past filled your dreams one after another. You had long heard of people having their life flash before their eyes before they pass away. Was this it? Were you dying? You hoped not. The images blurred and turned ambiguous as the heat you felt subsided.
And then, you returned to the waking world. Alive.
The cool wind from the open terrace doors nipped at your skin. Except for your exposed back, the rest of your body was warm, enveloped by the calming embrace of the man laying underneath you.
You slowly opened your eyes and blinked.
Diavolo turned his head to look at you. “You’re awake.”
Your fingers reached the fabric of the sleeveless nightdress you were wearing. Vaguely, you recognize it as one of the items in the closet next door. It was your first time wearing it.
“I dressed you. I hope you don’t mind,” Diavolo said.
“It’s fine.” You had shared more intimate moments to be embarrassed about something like that; it almost felt trivial. “Thank you for staying and taking care of me.”
“Of course.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost midnight. How are you feeling?”
Abruptly, you sat bolt upright. “Wait, what? And the celebratory ball?”
“It’s still ongoing, but you have nothing to worry about. More importantly, does your back still hurt?”
“No,” you replied after a brief pause, surprised at your own observation. You stretched your shoulders and bent your arm to reach over the small of your back to check. “It’s as if nothing happened.”
“Something did, actually. Something very important,” Diavolo informed you, his tone full of seriousness. “Your mark changed.”
“What do you mean it changed?”
It was the first time you heard of a soulmark morphing into another shape or form. Appearances of soulmarks were rare enough. As you mulled it over, however, you were quick to overcome the disbelief. When all was said and done, you and Diavolo were far from a regular pair of lovers.
Diavolo sat up and took your hand in his. “Come, look.”
The spark of excitement and delight in his demeanor piqued your curiosity. His eagerness, though contagious, was patient. He led you to the bathroom at the pace you were most comfortable with. Given the events that transpired earlier, the last thing he wanted was to insist you advance quicker and push yourself too hard.
A giant mirror rested over the sink. Unlike before, you had no qualms nor nervous sentiments about looking over your back. The nightdress made it easy for you to see what Diavolo was talking about.
“This is…”
“My sigil.”
You face Diavolo with a quiet smile.
“Do you still have doubts about me? About us?” he asked.
“No… I’m sorry.” You take his hand in yours once more. “For the record, I don’t think I ever will again.”
“Good to know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me right away? You said you suspected it from the first day we met. I think there’s a possibility Barbatos knew of it as well.”
“Yes, it was the first time I felt so drawn to someone, but while I had my suspicions, I was only able to confirm them during that day, at the House of Lamentation,” he revealed, squeezing your hand. “As for Barbatos, I asked him not to look into anything relating to the prophecy and you, or at least, not to inform me if he sees anything—except if you would be in danger. I wanted things between us to progress naturally. Was that overly selfish of me?”
“Not at all. I’m glad we were able to get through this together, just the two of us,” you replied, endeared by his intention of pursuing a relationship with you in the most normal and genuine way he could. “I didn’t act upon it because I never thought it would be possible, but I… felt drawn to you from the first day, too.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” you admitted and glanced at the door. “Is it too late for us to attend the party? I bet everyone is worried.”
“Are you feeling fine enough?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He nodded, his expression shifting into an amused one. “I think our previous outfits are wrinkled, though.”
You laughed. “I think so, too.”
“Why don’t you choose another one from your closet? You know, I was wondering why you’re always so hesitant to accept gifts from me.”
“Sorry about that,” you replied with sincerity. “This time, I accept the offer wholeheartedly. Thank you for everything. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome, my princess.”
As a final touch, you swiped a layer of red lipstick over your lips and closed the container with a snap. You leaned back and observed your reflection in the mirror. Even though your choice of lip color was bold, you opted for light makeup and went with the natural flushing of your cheeks. You couldn’t help the blood heating up your face at the reminder of your earlier escapades with Diavolo. Undoubtedly, you would never be able to look at this vanity table in the same way ever again.
Gold jewelry adorned your ears and wrists. The intricate lace pattern of the sleeves and neckline of the black evening gown you were wearing was exquisite to your touch. The full expanse of your back was bare, laid in the open for all to see. While you were unused to such clothing, the impending revelation of your fate for all of the three worlds to witness felt right. All in all, it was a quick ensemble you arranged, but it was elegant. You were more satisfied than you were earlier when you first dressed up for the celebratory ball—in more ways than one.
“All done?” Diavolo asked, standing up from the chaise and putting his D.D.D. inside his pocket. He was in his demon form, as everyone else would be except for your friends from Purgatory Hall, for your ceremonial dance at the end of the celebration. It would be the only event you would be able to attend at this point, but it was the most important one, marking the end of Diavolo’s search and the beginning of your new role.
“Yes.”
He stepped forward and offered you his arm. “Shall we, my princess?”
Wordlessly, you smiled and slipped your hand in his arm as affirmation. This time, you had no guilt nor doubt. Your relationship with him was as real as it could get. You were the prophesied Queen of the Devildom. Soon, he would be your King.
Diavolo was your fate and your choice. And you were his.
Bound by destiny are the Prince and the Princess.
Over her skin, his symbol shall appear and remain.
And with the whole Devildom as their witness,
King and Queen, they shall be; eternal, they will reign.