Shadows of Helvete

Chapter 17

After the church burning and the chaos in the cellar, everything about Varg shifted. He'd always had a wild streak, but now it was as if he was untouchable. His boldness, his recklessness—it was frightening to those around him. Even the guys in the Black Circle who once admired his audacity now kept their distance. Varg had become unpredictable, erratic, and the rivalry between him and Euronymous turned more intense.

Varg was always on the edge, but Euronymous wasn't about to let him steal the spotlight. The power struggle between them was growing, not just in the band or the scene, but something deeper—a fight for control, for dominance, and even, it seemed, for Emilie's attention.

But despite the tension in the air, Emilie and Euronymous were drawn to each other like two opposing forces that couldn't be separated. It started in secret, the thrill of their passionate encounters hidden behind the cold, grim facade of Helvete. But now, they couldn't hide it anymore. They weren't just sneaking around—they were stealing moments together whenever they could. Their attraction was all-consuming.

One evening, after another intense night together, Emilie leaned back in the bathtub, the water warm against her skin. Steam curled up from the surface, and her hair, damp from their earlier escapades, clung to her neck and shoulders. Euronymous was sitting at the edge of the tub, watching her with a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You know..." he started, his voice low and rough, "we're not fooling anyone anymore."

Emilie chuckled, her hand idly swirling the water. "Let them talk," she replied, leaning her head back against the cool tiles. "It's none of their business."

Euronymous' eyes darkened slightly, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Emilie's heart skipped a beat when he opened it, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a sharp-edged pendant.

"I'm not good with words," he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I want you to have this. To show everyone you're mine."

Emilie's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the necklace. She wasn't expecting this—Euronymous, the one who guarded his emotions so carefully, was showing her something real, something deeper than just lust or attraction. She felt a warmth in her chest, something almost unfamiliar to her.

She smiled, her hand reaching out to touch the necklace, and then she met his gaze. "I want that too," she whispered. "I'm yours."

With a careful touch, he leaned forward and fastened the necklace around her neck, his fingers brushing her skin. Once it was in place, he leaned in, kissing her deeply, the warmth of the water and the heat between them filling the space. Their kiss quickly escalated into something more, more intense, more desperate, as if the necklace marked the beginning of a new chapter between them.

Days Later

As word spread about their relationship, Emilie and Euronymous became an open secret. They weren't hiding it anymore, and their constant flirtation and physical closeness were impossible to ignore. The dynamic within the Black Circle was changing. Some of the group accepted it, others stayed out of their way, but one person in particular wasn't happy about it—Ann-Marit.

She had her eyes on Euronymous for a while. She wasn't subtle about it either, her lingering stares, the way she'd laugh a little too loudly at his jokes, or brush her hand against his arm when they talked. Emilie noticed it, and so did Euronymous, though he didn't seem to mind the attention.

One afternoon, while everyone was lounging around in the cellar, Ann-Marit was also invited over. Emilie didn't think much of it at first, but as the day went on, she noticed the tension in the air. Ann-Marit was clearly trying to make her presence known, standing a little too close to Euronymous, making snide little comments toward Emilie.

"Nice necklace," Ann-Marit said sarcastically, her eyes flicking to the silver pendant around Emilie's neck. "Guess you've really marked your territory."

Emilie, lounging on the couch with a cigarette in hand, raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her tone calm but with a sharp edge.

Ann-Marit smirked, leaning against the wall, her eyes flicking between Emilie and Euronymous. "Just saying... It's obvious who wears the pants around here."

Euronymous, sitting beside Emilie, glanced up, his face hardening. "What are you trying to get at?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Ann-Marit shrugged, feigning innocence. "Nothing. I just think it's funny, that's all. I mean, everyone knows how things are in this circle. Nothing lasts forever."

Emilie felt a flash of anger rise in her chest, but she kept her cool. "If you have a problem, you can get the fuck out of here," she said, her voice steady.

Ann-Marit's smirk faltered, and for a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. But then she stood up straighter, her expression hardening.

"You think this is going to last?" she asked, her voice dripping with condescension. "You're just the next in line, Emilie. When he's done with you, he'll move on. Just like he always does. I should know, Euronymous and I had a lot of fun back in the day when you were with Dead. I guess you want to give it to every Mayhem member... who is next? Hellhammer? Or was it his turn already?"

"You fucking bitch!" Emilie spat at her.

Before Emilie could say anthing else, Euronymous stood up, his expression dark. "That's enough," he said sharply. "Get the fuck out, you are not welcome here."

Ann-Marit's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting that reaction, but she quickly recovered, grabbing her bag from the chair.

"Whatever," she spat, giving Emilie one last glare before storming out of Helvete, slamming the door behind her.

The cellar fell into a tense silence, and Emilie sighed, leaning back into the couch. "She's got some nerve."

Euronymous sat back down beside her, his arm casually draping over her shoulders. "Don't listen to her. She's just bitter."

Emilie nodded, though Ann-Marit's words lingered in the back of her mind. She trusted Euronymous, but the constant competition, the power dynamics in their world—it was hard to ignore.

"Still," Emilie said, glancing up at Euronymous. "This is different, right? With us?"

He looked at her, his eyes serious for a moment. "It is," he said quietly. "This isn't just a game."

Emilie smiled softly, leaning into him. For now, that was enough.

Meanwhile, the tension between Euronymous and Varg continued to grow, but something shifted after Varg's outburst in the cellar. Varg was becoming more erratic, more unpredictable, and even more dangerous. He wasn't just burning churches anymore—he was setting out to prove something, to show everyone that he wasn't just following orders, that he was the real deal.