No ordinary heart

All at once the room grows deathly cold, an icy foreboding brewing between the two parties. The devil's eyes narrow at my mother, an empty look crossing his features, as though debating in that moment that he would very much like to wrap one of those tendrils of darkness that wisp around him around my mother's throat and coil it tight. I can hardly blame him really, I have shared a similar thought for half of my life.

But that doesn't make him any less intimidating.

A wintry shiver runs through me, rocketing through my bones. Whatever business the devil has here, it surely can't be good. But since when has anything in my life been good anyway?

The Devil's voice simmers to a low, warning hum.

"I wasn't talking to you, Akari. For once in your life, why don't you let your daughter speak, hmm?"

I can tell simply by the fiery nature of his gaze that had I not been present, there would have been sparks of death flying across this room. The devil looks at the very least, displeased, his voice deathly quiet, his eyes filled with a silent and unfulfilled rage, his form flickering ardently. My mother looks no better. In her many years as Queen, I doubt she has ever faced a challenge quite as insistent, or as obviously powerful, as this one. For once in her life, she has been forced to feel the helpless expanse of becoming a powerless being under the rule of another. Part of me wants to go down there and thank the devil personally, for he has accomplished something I could never in the long years of my life. Finally, finally, my mother is stunned into silence.

"Tell me," I speak at last, causing Alastor's hand to clench tighter around me. I can tell the kitsune wants me to look at him, to give him some nod of reassurance, or words of consolation, that this mad, unreal situation is going to be resolved. Instead, in a vain attempt to quell his nerves, I run my thumb over his skin, soothing him into relaxation. Naturally, with the Devil present, and my mother in a ragefully royal strop, my actions are only so effective, slightly numbing at best. But it's the thought that counts, and much to my relief Alastor motions me back, squeezing my hand nervously.

"As you wish, Princess," the Devil says respectfully with another bow, in an oddly courteous manner for the ruler of hell. It's the first time I have been shown any sort of respect from a peer in a long time, aside from Alastor of course, the feeling sitting rather unnaturally on my conscience. I can only blame my mother's shitty methods of upbringing for that.

He clears his throat, his luxurious black wings spreading out behind him like twin pairs of fantastic banners.

"19 years and three weeks ago today, news traveled around my kingdom of the birth of a golden child, and a prophecy that spoke of a girl fated to be so powerful, she could end all wars," he says, peering around nonchalantly at the masses of nobles who cower fearfully under benches and behind towering marble pillars, as though that may help them escape from his all consuming gaze. His eyes settle on me, but I hold my nerve. He doesn't scare me.

"I don't give a fuck about fate," I exclaim, pursing my lips together. If this is all the devil is here to talk about, then I have no purpose being here. Fate isn't real. It doesn't exist, anyone with half a head could figure that out.

At this, the devil only laughs.

"And neither did I, until I heard about you," he says, his eyes lowering knowingly. He growls a laugh.

"That day I visited the upper world to find this child, to lay waste to any false claims and determine whether the rumours of this prophecy had any truth in it at all. And what else did I find but a Queen and an angel with a child whose heart was not of an angel, or a human, but an immortal demon."

"Stop lying to her, Devil, my child is not a demon!" my mother screeches next to me, her fingers clenching around me so tightly that blood begins to draw from my skin. But I barely feel it. Barely feel the warmth of Alastors hand in mine, or hear the fearful whisperings among the nobles, even Prince Yariel fades from my vision, my mind trained only on one thing, pinpointed into focus. An icy cold sweeps up my body, my mouth growing stale. I let go of Alastors hand.

"Prove it."

The devil holds out a hand expectantly.

"Come forward," he beckons softly, curling a finger in my direction, urging me to descend towards him. I make to move forward, but a firm hand on my shoulder holds me in place, strapping me down to the polished marble floor.

"Don't you dare do it, Elowyn. Don't you dare disgrace me!" my mother practically yells, her voice so high she sounds close to bursting. If it weren't for the audience surrounding me, and Alastor in such close proximity, I might have leaned round and smacked her.

The Devil gives her a long look, the same thought clearly running through his mind. Only he isn't bound by the laws of man, or any morals on this earth- he could burn down this entire palace if he wanted, harvest every soul in this room and saunter back down to hell unscathed.

The Devil, unlike me, can do anything.

"I told you before, Akari, this is your daughter's decision, not yours, now kindly get your hands off her, before I make you," he asks roughly, an undertone of violence sinking into his voice, eyes glimmering dangerously. Seconds go by, and then another.

Seeing she will not budge, he sighs a long and despairing sigh, decidedly flicking a finger in the direction of my mother. At once she falls back, clutching her hand in agony as it begins to burn black at the tips. The smell of soot and ashes fills that air, the intense aroma causing many of the nobility to gag. With her hands off me, I tumble forward a few steps into open hair, soaking in the Devil's presence with an oddly calm exterior. But my heart is racing.

"Now, cherie," he says, closing up his hand as he realises for obvious reasons I will not yet come any closer yet. "This might tickle a bit, but I promise you, you won't have any doubts after this. Brace yourself," he warns, flicking a finger upwards. Then all at once I burst into flames.

Screams erupt around me, people call my name urgently as the fires continue to roar around me, flames licking the open air. My mother behind me screeches, clutching her blackened hand, and even Alastor, whose coolness is not usually wavered, steps forward a little, reaching his hand out in distress. But in the flames, I feel nothing. There is only a slight sensation of warmth through my skin, and a gentle tickle as the flames lick patches of my bare skin. But no death, no agony, no pain flows through me as one might expect it would. Only a strange and surreal calm, and warmth.

Then the devil makes a twisting motion with his fingers, and the flames vanish into thin air. As soon as everyone sees I am unharmed, the shocked screams die down, leaving nothing but an awful rumbling in its place.

The devil pulls up his sleeves.

"That," he announces, giving me a dazzling smile. "Was hellfire. Any mortal standing in those flames would have been incinerated in a matter of seconds. But you, Princess, are no mortal. You are a demon."