All Hail (Diavolo x Reader)

50,000 Years After Rebellion

The swamp is peaceful when Diavolo approaches.

"Are you sure you do not want me to join you, my lord?"

Barbatos's voice is concerned, tentative as usual. Diavolo is hardly surprised at the man's skepticism. This swamp is the one place he has never permitted Barbatos to follow him through—Diavolo would be concerned, too, if he were in his butler's shoes.

"The swamp doesn't like outsiders," The prince mumbles softly, running his hands against a vine. Millennia ago, the plant might have whipped itself against the prince's face, effectively slapping him for such a bold action; but hours upon hours of one-sided efforts have smoothed over most of the patches in Diavolo's relationship with the swamp, and the vine twists contently around his finger. "I hardly wish for you to deal with what I first had to go through when I came to this place."

The look on Barbatos's face is unconvinced, doubtful as ever. Diavolo chuckles at that, knowing all too well that his butler never believes him when he talks about the swamp and its oddities, but the demon butler heeds his words regardless. 

"As you say, my lord. I will be waiting for your return."

"Actually," The prince hums thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against the vine. "Do not wait for me tonight, Barbatos. I will return to the palace sometime tomorrow."

"Oh?" The butler offers a smile tinged with sympathy. "Is it that time of the year already, my lord?"

Diavolo nods his head, a bittersweet smile forming on his face.

"Very well," Barbatos bows. He leaves without any courtesies, without any pleasant 'good night' or 'enjoy your time' because the demonknows all too well that Diavolo only ever comes here for one reason, and any such pleasantries would be an insult.

The prince watches for a moment as his butler turns around, momentarily considering seeing his friend off—but then the vine in his hand is swaying gently, almost as if urging the demon inside the swamp.

"Yes, yes," The prince chuckles, running his thumb over the plant. "I'm coming."

The swamp comes to life the moment Diavolo steps foot inside. Animals discreetly peak their head at the demon from behind trees, birds follow him from overhead, and every tree branch arches backward to accommodate the prince's hulking frame as he shuffles down the familiar path, running his fingers along the tree branches in silent thanks.

The walk is short, as usual.

It takes Diavolo fifteen minutes to move from one end to the other, his long legs carrying him through in a fraction of the time it once took him.

The demon nearly hesitates when he realizes that he's already come out on the other end, silently wondering if he absentmindedly discovered a shortcut, but the truth is that he's simply grown.

"Oh, if only you could see me now," The prince mumbles to no one, smiling gently as he enters the cliffside that the swamp hides on this end. "You might even be proud."

Diavolo closes his eyes as the wind brushes by him, savoring the sensation.

The field he's standing in is different than it was fifty thousand years ago. The ground is colorful now, dotted mostly with purple and blue wildflowers—and the wildlife has also changed. Undead chipmunks and squirrels sprint by less often, replaced with herds of Purgatorian deer and packs of firefoxes. Diavolo is quite certain that the grass has changed color as well, the blades looking greener than ever as he walks over them.

Still, the memory of the field in Diavolo's memories is more beautiful than this. Because in his every flashback of the past, you're there, brightening up the whole world around you with nothing more than a smile and a laugh.