Chris is a demon sent to hell from his belief of not being one to believe in God. He is set to be the next ruler of Hell, also set to marry Satan's daughter, who is not completely sure of it all.
short story based off the song Bloodsport by Sleep T...
And somewhere Somewhere the atoms stopped fusing I'm still your favourite regret You're still my weapon of choosing
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Both men stand on opposite sides. Both giving death glares to the other. Eyes fully black and both preparing for the task at end. The very thing that hasn't taken place in this world for eternities. The big battle and deal for what matters most. Only one's intentions are real.
More then anyone ever truly knows.
Both knowing the winner wins both you and the throne.
Everyone stands around in a circle. Your fathers in his throne as well you sitting beside the man. His arm wrapped around you with a protective sense in it. The first you have felt from him for years. He is waiting patiently. He knows he is the one to start to when it's time to go. For this to be ready and open.
He waits.
It's been the first time in years. Centuries at that, that someone has spoken up to an arranged marriage of one of his children. No one even dared to do so before. A shame really. He wants the build up to be worth it. The build up to cause so much of a good fight.
He missed this kind of entertainment. Two men wanting his daughter's heart?
It's come to this.
He looks to you.
There is hope in the eyes of yours. He knows where he stands with you. He is the one who decides over all. It's either he can go with what's right. Who wins the part. Or he can go with what's best, still have a relationship with his demon child. It's a war inside his head always.
Yet, he has the decision.
He has for awhile now.
"You ready?"
No.
It's now or never and you would rather get it over with. It all comes down to this now.
You suck in a shaky breath. Eyes flicking between both men. Only finding one staring back at you. His brown eyes soft and filled with admiration in them. The other focused on the other man. His jaw still clenched. His fists at his side bawled up.
All you can do now is remain hopeful.
That things can go the way you had held on to for so long now.
You look towards your father, nodding and he gives one back. He looks back to the men. One tall and lanky, a clear distaste for the weak. Who could rule this realm with an iron fist. He could keep things in line the way things should be. The obvious choice.
He is the perfect leader. He checks all the marks.
The other short, brown hair, the one who never quite got rid of his own humanity. His own weakness if your father is honest. He holds your heart in his hands. He loves you. Despite it. He carries himself with such a confident pride. He has seen him stand up to one person once. Enough to make them run off in tears. He is the right choice.
