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Nyx and Perpetua had been nervously awaiting the more thorough test results from the ministry doctors, only to be disappointed that their first successful union had resulted in a completely normal human. It unfortunately had taken quite the time to reach this conclusion as the most reliable way to determine infernal heritage was, like sex, still just looking at what it’s shaped like as soon as it would be apparent, and when the humanoid fetus had failed to grow wings or a tail or hooves at any of the typical ghoul gestational benchmarks and the aether that it emitted was perfectly mundane, it was safe to assume that it was no hellspawn.
They had prepared for this possibility. The potential D&E had already even been scheduled. For the doctors it was all routine, and Nyx couldn't be more eager to get it out of them, repulsed at how long they had to let the poor thing brew before putting it out of its misery. And yet when the procedure was complete and Nyx was recovering and it came time for them to ask Papa what they planned on doing with the remains, he was still taken aback.
"I'll take them," he replied automatically, perhaps out of a sense of obligation. After all, it would be a shame to let them dispose of it with the rest of the medical waste. But once he was presented with the bag, he couldn't help the sudden weight that rested in his heart.
This was a part of Nyx. This was supposed to be his child. Their child... All the time spent helping them through morning sickness and keeping them fed and rested properly, and all of that love and effort from both of them reduced to a bag of red goo. He turned it over, and as the mush shifted, the remnants of a face peeked out. Tears welled in Perpetua's eyes as he imagined the life they could have had together in another universe. This was unfair.
He kept it together long enough to get to a bathroom and locked himself inside as they flooded over, clutching the bag to his chest. He made a deal that he wouldn't argue about keeping the baby, but he made no promises about what he would do with the remains that he had now been entrusted with.
No sense in letting all that effort go to waste. And at least this way he could still truly be one with them. Both of them, Nyx and child. He opened the bag and felt a deep and profound disgust. Not at what he was doing, but because of the lack of fanfare. It felt wrong, disrespectful even, like a desecration of their body and blood.
Through his sobbing, he offered the remains to the Dark Lord. Then with as much reverence as he could muster, he scooped out a glob of parts with his fingers and placed it into his mouth. The taste of Nyx and of something new washed over him, unholy and divine. He couldn't help the voracity that he continued with, crunching through delicate bones and shoving more into his mouth until he was practically dumping the bag down his throat. Through this they were his and they were with him. An unholy, albeit unconventional union.