All in Due Time

Chapter 1

Mammon feared the stars.

Mammon feared their beauty. The way they dotted the darkness in shimmering light. A light that had captivated him with a single glance and left him unable to tear his gaze away. Mammon feared how they kept drawing him in, with the promise that he could be as beautiful as they are; yet each time he tried to reach for the stars, he was left with nothing but angry burns.

Mammon feared how dependant he was on them. The kind that with a single wish, they could convince him that everything would be fine. The same kind that had him constantly looking up to them when they were there; and searching for them in the darkness when they weren't. He was scared to think about what he would do if the stars were to disappear forever; and how lost he would be without them.

But what Mammon feared the most about the stars was that they might not love him as much as he did them. That, while he looked up at the stars with nothing but love and adoration, it was left unrequited. He was scared that the stars were staring down at him with nothing but contempt. Or worst of all, they had never cared about him to begin with.

And that was the most terrifying thing imaginable.

~

The first thing Mammon noticed when his eyes shot open was how sweaty he was, despite the chills wracking his body.

The thin black sheets under him clung to his bare skin as if their life depended on it, and with the minimal light shining out from his closet, he could already see the sweat stains that covered the front of his shirt. As he turned onto his side, he could feel how damp his pillow had gotten from the beads of sweat that were still dripping down his face, and he could only groan in response. The sticky discomfort covered him like a blanket, suffocating him until he could barely breathe. When it finally became too much, he ripped his duvet off of him, just for a sharp chill to run down his spine. A pained groan left his mouth as he pulled his duvet over him and laid back down.

For a minute, he debated getting up to take a shower before breakfast. He was sure if he got out of bed right now, he would be able to fit in a quick one before Beel managed to eat everything; he really couldn't afford to miss any more meals. It would have to be quick, just long enough to scrub the sweat off his skin. Just the thought made him feel refreshed, but in the end, he couldn't bring himself to leave the safety of his own bed quite yet. It would just have to wait until later.

The second thing Mammon noticed was the sharp, throbbing migraine he had.

Although he would have liked to stay in bed for the rest of the day, he knew better than to think he could. So, as he forced himself to sit up, he felt a sharp pulse of pain. His clammy hands flew to his head, searching for some sense of temporary relief. Mammon only groaned at the feeling as he leaned forward, groping his bedside table looking for the bottle of meds he had put there the night before. When he felt his hands touch on the smooth plastic surface, he greedily grabbed the bottle, twisting off the cap in one quick motion. Only to whip it across the room a moment later, a slew of curses leaving his mouth once he realized it was empty. He must have taken the last two the night before without realizing it.

With another sharp pulse of pain, Mammon almost regretted ever trying to get out of bed. At this point, he wasn't sure going to breakfast was even worth it. Nonetheless, he refused to let himself lie back down. He needed to get up. So, with a push, he stood up, ignoring the sharp pulses of pain beating against his head at a steady pace of 150bpm, and began to get ready. He threw on a new pair of clothes, dried off his face, and threw on the closest pair of shoes he could find. When he looked half-presentable, Mammon started towards the dining room.

The third thing Mammon noticed was how weak he felt.

As he grabbed his jacket from the pool table, he noticed how heavy it felt in his hands as if someone had stuffed weights in the pockets while he had been asleep. And as he reached to grab onto the stair's railing, he noticed how heavy his arms themselves felt; already aching from something as simple as holding onto the railing as he walked up the stairs. Even his legs felt heavier, twice he hadn't lifted his foot high enough and tripped, nearly falling back down the stairs. The only reason he hadn't ended up in a pile on the floor below, was because of the death grip he had on the thin railing.

Even as he walked down the halls of the House of Lamentations, Mammon could feel his muscles straining under him. He could only make it a few steps before his knees would buckle slightly, sending him off balance. Unsurprisingly it took him longer than usual to make it to the dining room, not that he had the energy to care at this moment. Right now, he was just happy to have made it there without falling over.

The fourth thing Mammon noticed was how nauseous he felt.

Standing outside the dining-room door, the warm scent of breakfast was floating out to him. On any other day, he would have opened the door, ecstatic that there was a warm and delicious meal waiting for him. But today, the aroma made his stomach twist in knots. The thought of even just sitting near food gave him a sour taste in his mouth as if he were about to throw up where he stood. Staring at the wooden door, Mammon willed his stomach to calm down so he could go in.

Once ready, the avatar of greed straightened his posture and put on the best smirk he could manage. All before shoving the door open with all his might and marching over to his seat. He just prayed to anyone that would listen that none of his brothers could see through his act. Not that they would care nonetheless. He knew better than to expect that, but if they found out they would surely look down at him and mutter about how pathetic he was. One of the strongest demons in the Devildom, and he couldn't handle a measly fever?

Instead, Mammon had decided that for once he would take a page out of Lucifer's book. He wouldn't whine and complain now that he felt under the weather. Instead, he would deal with it on his own, like the responsible demon that he was expected to be.

Anyways, it should only be a couple more days until he was feeling better, just in time for the dinner party at the Demon Lord's Castle. So, for the time being, he would put on a visage of wellness; and pretend that everything was fine.

Just as he always had.