Trust me, chérie
"You are the least useless person I know," Valerian whispers, so quietly I almost don't hear it, before pushing open the doors and leading us out.
A temporary shudder runs through me, causing me to stall on the spot, my mind whirring frantically. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
It is only when I snap from my daze that I realise Valerian is already leaps ahead of me, pacing down a beautiful golden corridor lined with ornate paintings and tapestries, the likes of which I have never seen in my palace back in the Upper Realm. Blazing, I sprint after him, hitching up my wedding dress in order not to trip up on the pretty woven carpet beneath my feet.
"You are being awfully confusing, you know that?" I say, bristling, exasperated and still part angry about the continued spouting of prophetic bullshit as I draw myself level to him. But with heels so high they almost feel like stilts, doing so becomes increasingly difficult, the silken red carpet sliding beneath my footfalls, each step more precarious than the last. Inwardly, I groan. Stupid heels and stupid wedding dress. I am an embarrassment to myself. And to Valerian.
Whether or not Valerian hears me, I cannot tell, as he keeps pacing forwards as if our little speech in the meeting room never happened.
Perhaps he is regretting saying what he did. Or maybe he is just letting me soak all the information in. Either way, he does not say a word.
"Valerian, where are we going?" I ask, still not getting an answer. So I try again:
"Valerian," I growl angrily once more, reaching out to grab him by the shoulder, but my aim- largely from the influence of strong wine, is vastly undershot. Stumbling forwards, I trip on my heels, legs crumbling beneath me like a baby deer who has yet to master the art of traversing. Everything seems to happen in slow motion- my fall forward, the floor rushing to meet my face, and the inevitable horror that accompanies the sinking feeling in my stomach, lurching and gnawing at my insides. Just my luck to make a complete fool of myself around the one person down here who I can solidly trust. Truly, an act like this should be criminal.
But before my face can hit the ground and my body can be flattened into a pile of inelegant mush, pair of hands hoist me upright, and suddenly my impending doom doesn't seem so impending any more. A slight look of amusement playing on his features, Valerian positions me upright, his tail curling in mocking circles beside his calf.
"Drink a little too much?" he muses airily to himself, his hands fixing on my waist to keep me from swaying out of balance. Grumbling, I shoot him a discontented frown.
"Are you going to condemn me for drinking too?" I mutter irritably, desperately trying to push his hands off me, but the Devil holds me tight in his grasp, his hands planted firmly at my sides. To this, I cackle a small laugh. "Now who's feeling me up," I snicker, to which Valerian rolls his eyes in mild amusement.
"I am not going to stop you drinking, no," he says, letting go at last as he sinks down on to his knees, pushing away the myriad of pleats at the hem of my wedding dress, delving underneath it. Perhaps it's the influence of the alcohol, but a heavy blush obscures my face.
"What are you-"
"Give me your shoes," he instructs, curling his free hand impatiently, his eyes meeting mine. My drunken blush only futhers.
"What?"
He rolls his eyes.
"You clearly aren't going to be able to walk in them, give them to me, please chérie," he asks once more, beckoning with his hand.
"Fine," I sniff, lifting up one foot unsteadily, allowing him to slip the shoe off my foot with a gentle ease. "But don't think you have anything on me because I am tipsy and I let you carry my shoes. I can still beat your ass if you try anything."
The devil smiles wickedly as he slips off my other shoe, rising at last, my shoes clutched in one hand, holding out to me with the other. It's obvious he has realised I am a little more than tipsy at this point, but he doesn't say anything of it either way- an act which I am rather grateful for.
"I wouldn't dream of it. Princess." he chuckles, leading of into a break of silence between us. The silence drags on for a bit as we stand there, the devil tucking my shoes under his arm, and I puffing out the lace of my dress, hoping against hope the dizzying warmth will subside from my face. Perhaps I did drink a little too much.
"Look," the Devil sighs at last, running his free hand through his hair. "I know you don't yet believe me about who you are, what you are destined for, but I ask you to trust me. Tomorrow everything will be a lot clearer, I promise" he assures, pressing a hand gently against my shoulder. To this, something inside me softens.
"It's not that I don't believe you," I start, then pause, realtering my words. "- well, not really. Its more that all this is so sudden, so knew. I have grown up shielded in a palace my whole life with no knowledge on prophecies or who I really was. I didn't mean to be rude, I really didn't. I guess I am just a bit confused," I apologise, curling back into myself, suddenly feeling as though I could hide away from the world. And all of that is indeed the truth.
As much as I despise talk about destiny and prophecies, and no matter how terrifying whatever the future might have in store for me is, the Devil has been to only one to give me things straight, to lay all the cards on the table. He has not lied to me, he has not avoided the truth. He has answered my questions, and even offered me a deal when there was never one to offer in the first place.
That is a lot more than I could say for my mother, and all the nobles in the upper world. Up there, I knew nothing about myself, my father, my powers, and I had no choice in anything, a mere puppet for the will of my peers. But down here, I have a chance, the opportunity to bring myself a purpose.
"Come on," Valerian whispers softly at last, his eyes twinkling gently under the partial light of the corridor. He offers out his hand.
"I need to get you cleansed before I show you to your room, otherwise the demons will be quite distressed- you smell of the Upper Realm. It's just this way, come on," he assures, beckoning towards me once again. With a grateful smile, I take his hand, letting him lead me through the fantastic array of corridors that pass us by in a blur of wonder.
The corridors, much like the meeting room where I met Dreyfus and Tarquin, are fantastically decorated. High arching ceilings and flickering gas lanterns gives is a somewhat medieval attire, but the richly decorated walls and draping curtains suggests that this palace we are clearly in is nothing short of magnificent. Paintings scatter across the walls, portraying pictures of demons, of kings, and a vast variety of the Folk who trail through the Upper Realm and the Downside, having no obligation here or there, but coming in and out of existence at a whim of their own.
Every now and them the Devil will look over his shoulder to ensure I am okay, a faint yet mischievous smile on his face every time he sees my hand clamped over his. There is a look on his face, a shifting expression that seems to imply he wishes to say something, but no words ever come out, and he continues pacing beside me with his guiding hand in mine. Sometimes he even slows, waiting for me to catch my breath as I heave forward with my many frilled, ridiculous wedding dress, encrusted with white jewels and the most boringly excessive frills. Truly, to think I was to get married in this monstrosity, what a crime. By my side, the Devil chuckles.
"A crime indeed," he acknowledges, stopping outside a set of double doors, his fingers linger over the handles. "Tomorrow I shall give you a tour of my Palace before we meet with the other demon lords and ladies, but for now may I advise that you stick with me, or call for me if you need anything. I would rather you didn't get lost. Now," he says, opening up the double set of doors to reveal a huge open room, like a cave and glittering with all manner of rough, crystalline gems. Holding the door open for me, he graciously lets me inside, dipping his head respectfully as I go past, before following in after me.
"It's time to get you cleaned up."