Chapter Text
Belial had a job. One he liked to think he was rather good at.
As kin of Time - one of only a handful in the entirety of existence - the demon had faithfully served his Master since inception.
It was busy work to be sure, for no task was too small, no whim too frivolous, and given his Lord's many, many wiles, Belial routinely found himself wishing earth's rotation period wasn't quite so brief. He could do with a few extra hours, but since that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon the demon made his peace with being chronically engaged.
All things considered; he had little reason to complain. The work was...varied, he supposed was the best way to phrase it, and as trying as his occupation and Master could be at times, there was satisfaction in accomplishing tasks others could not. Comfort in knowing his existence served a purpose. Most of all though, Belial enjoyed the level of regard his position brought.
Despite his inhuman nature, the demon possessed no real passion for fighting or spilling blood. He was a gentleman, after all, and a butler to boot. He had neither time nor energy to waste on such pastimes, and since few, human or demon, were foolish enough to meddle in his Lord's affairs, it was exceedingly rare for Belial to be put in a position where he might need to consider defending himself.
Which was precisely what made the current situation so very deeply unpleasant.
"If I may," he began, even toned and head lowered as was proper. "We have prepared rooms for Your Highness' stay."
The response was deafening silence, the air fraught with power and heat all emanating squarely from the King of Fire. Indeed, his Master appeared to be in a similar state of malcontent. Belial may only have caught a glimpse of the Time King's face before it was concealed from sight but he knew there would be precious little rest to be had this evening.
After passing on silent instructions to another member of staff to have new games delivered to their Master's bedroom post haste, Belial cast a cautious glance upward.
Iblis had stayed where she was, arms now crossed over her chest and red glaring down at him open hostility. It was a look Belial knew rather well. His Master had a singular talent for drawing it out of even the most amiable individuals and whilst Belial normally felt fully equipped to handle such dissatisfaction, it was another matter entirely to be the focus point of a King's ire.
For beings like them, it usually meant the loss of a vessel at best. True death at worst and unless it concerned one of her siblings, Iblis had shown a strong preference for the latter.
Trepidation built and Belial tried to swallow it down to no avail.
Humans could not comprehend it, he thought as the seconds ticked by. The denizens of Assiah were far too wrapped up in their own self, blinded by their arrogance, to the point where they had entirely forgotten just how small they actually were. How easily flesh and bone could be crushed, ruined, wiped from existence-
Iblis turned away, the weight of her presence vanishing so suddenly it left his mind and Heart reeling. He waited, but she made no move beyond that and Belial took that as permission to rise.
She never did answer him, but one could not have served a member of the Ba'al for as long and as closely as he had without familiarizing himself with the idiosyncrasies of all the siblings. And silence from her was, generally speaking, the closest to permission he was he likely to receive.
Satisfied with his safety for now, Belial lead her away from his Master's home office and down to the east wing. It was a part of the manor seldom in use, the majority of the rooms here intended for the housing and entertainment of guests.
Opulent private suites took up most of the space, and should one wish to engage in social activities there were various parlors, libraries and terraces to choose from. There was even a ballroom tucked away somewhere, although to the best of his recollection, it had never once been used.
Belial had, at some point in the past, suggested hosting a gathering here. It was rare for the Kings of Gehenna to congregate outside of private meetings between individuals or the periodical summits held to discuss the everlasting quandary of procuring better vessels. And while the latter had been a long-standing tradition, spanning several millennia, it had never once taken place at any of his Master's private residences.
As expected, Lord Samael been most vehemently against the notion of inviting his siblings over for any reason, claiming that he wasn't about to risk having his belongings ruined by 'those spiteful little gremlings' as he often called them and yet here Belial was, guiding yet another King to her assigned quarters.
To an ignorant observer, this might have been construed as his Master wanting to engage with his family but such musings reflected a decidedly human quality none of them possessed. And to Belial, who had born witness to enough interactions between the Ba'al, there could be no clearer sign than this that reality was on the verge of collapse.
It was why his Master, and by extension Belial, would do whatever was necessary to ensure things went according to plan. Starting with the appeasement of a certain demoness.
Once they arrived at their destination, Belial opened the double doors and quietly stepped aside so Iblis could enter first and appraise his work.
This part he wasn't particularly worried about. Unlike the situation with the Earth King, his Master had actually given notice this time, as well as seeing fit to provide Belial with near limitless funds in order to transform the previously generic rooms into something more suitable for their future guests.
He'd opted for furnishings which were classic in design. Heavy pieces of ancient wood and wrought iron dominated the space, softened by silks and furs. The overall impression was dark, comfortable, and brightened with of golds and reds in homage to the flames she commanded. It was anything but subtle, but flattery went a long way with royalty. Even – perhaps especially – the fractious ones.
And should all that finery still fail to mollify her, then there were still the books.
Hundreds of them, enough to fill the grand bookcases that lined an entire wall and stretched from floor to ceiling. They encompassed a wide array of genres, old works and new ones mixed together, all carefully arranged by category and size to produce the most aesthetically pleasing result while retaining functionality.
As expected, Iblis wasted no time, only performing the most superficial examination of what was to be her temporary domain before turning her attention entirely to the books. She along the wall, perusing the shelves, stopping occasionally to take one out and leaf through its pages.
Her expression cleared somewhat, Belial noted with rising satisfaction.
All demons craved things. To desire was the quintessence of their kind and the Kings were perhaps the finest examples of that fact.
For some, their vice was food, substituting one sort of hunger for another. There were those who indulged in pleasures of the flesh while others thirsted for knowledge. But where Belial's Master had always been open in his enjoyment of mankind's numerous creations, the King of Fire' interest came across as utilitarian more than anything else.
Not that it mattered. Belial's main concern right now was keeping the manor from being destroyed, and if that goal could be accomplished by supplying her with frankly absurd amount of reading material that gave her no real pleasure, then that was precisely what he would do.
"Well?"
Ah, he was thinking too much.
"My deepest apologies," Belial said, dipping his head. "How may I be of service?"
"You could start by paying attention." The sharp words were delivered with a glower before she pointed a claw-tipped finger to the side. "I asked you what those are doing here."
On a table near the unlit fireplace stood a collection of boxes. Their shapes and sizes varied, but all sported similarly blue exteriors and each was tied up with simple golden ribbon in the exemplar image of a gift.
'Why don't you open them and find out.'
His Master's response would have run along those lines, Belial thought, because according to Lord Samael, foolish questions deserved to be mocked. Having his vessel turned to ash would be problematic however, so the butler opted for a more tactful answer to her question.
"They were delivered by courier the other day. As they were addressed to Your Highness, we brought them here. I believe there was a card as well."
Not that either of them had any doubts about who the sender was. Their appearance was a dead giveaway and since her presence here was supposed to be somewhat of a secret, there could only be one sender.
As he spoke, Iblis had approached the table, scowling at the gifts as if their very existence was a personal offense. The card in question was read, scoffed at, and quickly discarded again before she moved on to the first box. She frowned at its contents, not bothering to take whatever was inside out before moving to the next one, a smaller box, and-
"...I was unaware Your Highness had taken an interest in Japanese graphic works," Belial said with faint surprise. For what she was holding in her hand was undoubtedly manga, the first volume of a rather popular shōnen series his Master had been obsessed with for a time. "Lord Samael has-"
Belial's mouth snapped shut as fire tore through the room, destroying chairs and tables, blackening the walls and eagerly devouring a good deal of the books on the shelves before Iblis chose to quench them.
"Strange," she remarked mildly. Her eyes were still on the pristine boxes in front of her, book placed aside while she continued opening and sorting through her gifts as smoke curled and stray flecks of ash floated by. "I don't recall asking for your input. Do you?"
Belial bowed again, lower this time, eyeing the minute distance between his own feet and the burn marks on the floor.
"My apologies. It will not happen again."
"No," she agreed. "It won't."
She grabbed the book and turned to the door leading to the bedroom, not sparing him another glance.
"Clean this mess up and get out." She paused, glancing over her shoulder while her hand rested on the handle. "Oh, and tell my brother if I catch him spying, I'll make sure to turn this entire place to ash. I believe his precious 'collection' will burn nicely."
"Understood," he said, but she'd already slipped inside and shut the door. Belial bowed one last time, etiquette outweighing the logic that there was no one left to witness it, before calling on his own magic.
The room stirred, broken and burned things twisting and reshaping as time was rewound. It was nowhere near as instantaneous Lord Samael's work, both the temporal range and area of effect vastly inferior to his King's, but it was sufficient.
Once all was in order again, Belial took his leave, stepping back out into the corridor. There, he came to a halt.
Beyond the glass windows, one could see the night settling in nicely. Darkness enveloped the city, dotted here and there with the flickering lights of humanity.
Belial liked this view. He had followed the growth of this place over the years as his Master transformed it from impoverished slums to something far better. A thriving metropolis, unequivocal proof of his Master's benevolence, self-serving though it was.
He would have liked to stand there longer but his moment of admiration was cut short by a tug at his soul, small but insistent. A summons from his Master, informing him of a new task which needed undertaking.
Belial allowed himself a dry smile as he followed the pull.
Four Demon Kings under one roof... Ah, how very busy he would be.