Pledged Silence

| PROLOGUE |

Usually when you sell your soul to the devil, you don't expect it back. Yet here the said demon was, black cloak and all, at the doorsteps of your apartment on the 6th floor, holding the shining bluish-grey orb you had given away all those years ago, having not wanted to keep it yourself anymore.

"You're going to help me," Moloch said after he made the orb vanish. An undecipherable look crossed his face before he caught himself and returned to his vacant stare.

Archer, the human standing next to the door, blinked twice. Was it fear he saw? Perhaps worry? "Nah, I've got three reports due to finish off by Monday, you can come back next time though," he said, smirking and went to close the door, but a strong arm holding it in place stopped him.

"I wasn't asking," the devil snapped and barged his way into the huge apartment - the same thing he had done last time he had rudely intruded and injured Bertha - walking down the corridor into the living room.

An exasperated sigh escaped Archer's lips as he had long given up even telling Moloch off. He closed the door and slumped into the living room, as he rubbed a hand down his face in exhaustion, following after the demon. "Okay then, so what it this 'issue' and why do you need my help?"

Moloch began to turn red and Archer flinched in surprise as a pop echoed through his small apartment. A teasing smile spread over his face. "Oh, wow, where did the horns come from? Are you embarrassed?"

"Silence! And the issue is a family problem." Moloch turned his face away slightly, noticing that Archer's apartment hadn't changed that much since he had last visited. There was a light stain though, on the carpet where Bertha had last been.

"Daddy issues?" Archer raised an eyebrow.

If possible, Moloch turned an even redder colour, which really brought out his uniquely marigold eyes that the human found fascinating, but didn't erase the scowl on the demon's lips. "No," he muttered, as if hating admitting that to Archer. "It's my mother."

"Oh, a mummy complex?" Archer assumed. "You wanna schedule a therapy appointment, get in line; I only work Wednesdays and Fridays." He leaned against one of his walls on his shoulder, looking at Moloch with both of his eyebrows raised and a lazy look in his eyes.

"Do you want your soul back?" the demon inquired, feeling like his already thin patience was about to run out, yet due to the situation he was right now, he felt desperation. He needed Archer to just help him with this.

"Not particularly." Archer shrugged.

Moloch grumbled something incoherent under his breath. Standing up from the chair he had been siting on, he strode across the whole room to face his challenger. And from there he crumbled. "Please, help me."

Archer blinked. Out of all the scenarios that he imagined in which he refused a prince of hell, this one was not one of them. He furrowed his eyebrows and then sighed. "Explain what this is about first, and then I'll think about it."

Moloch nodded his head slightly. He moved towards the chair he had organically been in. "So... I need you to pretend to be in a relationship with me to prove my mother wrong." His words all came out in a huge jumble.

"What...?" Archer furrowed his eyebrows.

"She's..." Moloch looked up thoughtfully, clicking his tongue. "How would you humans put it— a cold ass bitch who expects a perfect family."

Biting his lip, Archer looked away from the prince. He knew a lot about family— especially mother issues. That was the reason he studied psychology in the first place.

"So, will you help?" Moloch ran his hand through his jet black hair in a nervous way.

Archer blinked. He realised was doing that a lot. "I said I'd think about it."

"Yeah... we do not have that luxury. Actually," Moloch looked towards his watch, which was fittingly adorned with various jewels; Archer didn't even know how it worked with the mass of them. "We have ten minutes."

"We... we what now?" Archer raised his hand up, palm facing Moloch. A disgruntled look on his face."You could have just been a normal demon for once and done this beforehand."

"I was busy!"

"Doing what exactly? Grumbling about your mother and pushing away your pride to ask me to do this?" Archer asked.

Moloch opened his mouth, but then closed it again, huffing, and Archer the human, 23 year old human in the room couldn't believe that he was acting more responsible than the centuries old demon in front of him.

"Also, why the hell would you choose me?" He paused, breathless from his sudden frustrated outburst. As he thought for a moment a Cheshire grin spread over his face. "Oh, I know... you couldn't get over me after our first conversation, right?" he teased.

Moloch gaped at the human. His marigold orbs nearly popping out of his head. "You mean when I stole your soul and you spent an hour lecturing me on my etiquette and manners?"

"I mean you tore my couch in half, so..." Archer deadpanned, shrugging at the demon.

Moloch stood up, a snarl was forming on his face. "We are not having this conversation again. I have your soul, Archer, do me this one favour and you will have it back, plus, you won't have to see me ever again. Do we have a deal?"

Archer narrowed his bluish-grey eyes at the devil's outstretched hand before he saw Moloch's desperate look. "Fine, we have a deal."