RE: Monarch

Beyond the immediate object of horror, the contract itself was strange. Less cold-blooded and stringent than mine by an order of magnitude, filled with little additions and considerations that prioritized Annette's wellness and care. All of which would have been at the very least suspicious, if the section that kept drawing my eye back, over and over, didn't spell out the intention clear as day.

Pursuant to verbal deliberations, Princess Annette, of House Valen, cedes exclusive courtship rights to the Fiendish Consortium. The princess will attend no outside suitors nor uphold formal or informal courtship with any person or persons outside the consortium.

"You... let this go through?" I breathed, a black rage billowing up from within me as the pang of betrayal grew too great to ignore. Confronting Loria, facing down a woman who had—unknowingly—done catastrophic damage to my psyche, was supposed to buy Annette and Maya enough time to work Ozra and prevent something like this from happening.

"It was not—" Annette began, before Maya cut her off.

"—No." Maya shook her head, looking between Ozra and Annette in quiet frustration. "In fact, I spent a great deal of time pushing back against it, but the princess would not yield. So my time was spent ensuring the terms favored her."

"I—" Annette's mouth closed, opened again. "I thought we were in accord."

"Then you were not listening to my many, many warnings." Maya snapped at her flatly. "Nor my attempts to pivot the focus of the proceedings."

"Enough." The growing surge of frustration that always accompanied the realization I'd need to trigger a reset flooded in, clouding my thoughts. It was right there, written in Ozra and Loria's gloating faces. They'd won this bout.

But they would not win the next.

Until the moment the contract was signed, there was still room to maneuver. I funneled mana into the inscription pathways in my chest that would stop my heart, staring directly into Ozra's smug expression. He probably thought he'd played this well, capitalizing on my distraction with Loria to force through a deal I'd never approve of.

How I so desperately wished to see that smug smile falter as I dropped dead to the floor, reality bending back on itself as all of his clever maneuvering was undone.

Another item on the contract stood out to me, as I continued to work up the nerve. I scoffed at it. "Koss games every fortnight? With him? Really. Did you take nothing I said to heart?"

"If you both would be so inclined, we'll need a moment to discuss this among ourselves," Maya said matter-of-factly, directing her comment to the demons. Ozra and Loria took their leave, casually conferring in low voices in the corner near the secretarial desk as I continued to pore over the contract, growing more and more dismayed with the contents.

"I did not cede my soul," Annette countered, but her typically cold delivery lacked confidence.

"That's hardly a victory when, instead, you've given him access." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "With no endpoint, making matters worse. From now until the day you meet your end, you've given him time to get to know you, build rapport, to slowly whittle down your resolve and wait for circumstances to align until the fateful evening trading a soul suddenly sounds reasonable. Equitable, even."

Annette looked away. "That evening will never come. The fact remains that a good opponent is hard to find. I've learned more about strategy and tactics in the last half hour than I have over years. Lessons that apply to far more than a game of wits—"

"—You have countless tutors—"

"—We stand to gain far more than we lose!" Annette stood, knocking over her chair, fists clenched in fury. "There is danger, yes. Risk. But there is always something at stake in matters of power. A reality you seem more than comfortable embracing when it is your life being wagered, and only averse to when the same logic is applied by those you care for." Her voice crescendoed, eyes glimmering with fury and something else. "Why are you alone allowed to suffer for the sake of peace? Why does it have to be you and only you?"

Because that is my purpose. The reason for this gift. To shield the innocent. And I've failed that duty enough, as of late.

I spoke, as evenly as I could. "What could possibly be worth putting your soul at risk? Beyond that, your more immediate wellbeing?" I extended a hand towards Maya and let it drop. "Not long after we met, Maya formed a generational contract with a demon. At the time I was confused by the many parameters and seemingly paranoid fail-safes she enacted, going to great lengths to ensure that demon could never escape its contract. When I asked, she said something I found strange, given the recent overcoming of differences: 'All demons are evil, without exception.' Yet to this day, I have not seen a single shred of evidence that she is wrong. If anything, she undersold the depths of their depravity."

"As unhappy as I am with this turn of events," Maya hedged, "it's probably the best we could hope for. Perhaps better. It invites restriction without compunction. Annette cannot marry outside the fiendish consortium, but she is not compelled to marry within it or take any action beyond occasionally entertaining suitors, something she already does."

"Suitors far older and craftier than those already foisted upon her," I argued.

Ozra's voice carried across the room with an undercurrent of mirth. "Intercessor, if you'd draw the Prince's attention to page twelve, subsection three—"

"—I've neither requested your help nor require it, arch-fiend," Maya snapped back, waiting until Ozra and Loria returned to their quiet musings before she lifted the contract from the table and leafed through the first dozen pages, pointing out a paragraph near the end.

Any potential suitor must fulfill the following pre-requisites.

2A. Hail from a legion of good standing within the consortium.

2B. Hold the current role of Renascent Prince within that legion

2C. Have undergone renascence within the timeframe of a maximum of three years preceding, and three years after, the princess's year of birth.

"The hells is a renascent prince?" I muttered, reading it over, hoping it would make more sense the second time and gleaning little more.

"It's not surprising you've never heard of them. Despite being an integral aspect of demonic hierarchy, they rarely draw attention to the practice as, in a way, it paints them as fundamentally imperfect, an impression they are quick to avoid." Maya looked away, guilt tainting her expression. "I need to clarify that the generalization of all demons as evil is also imperfect. It would have been more accurate to say that they will all, eventually, become evil." R𝒶ＮổΒÈȿ

"I'm not following," I admitted.

"As you know, demons do not die a true death. When they die, either voluntarily, or through violence, their core—which, while different from a soul, acts in a similar capacity—is retained and repurposed. These cores are auctioned en masse to various legions to the purpose of bolstering and bringing new blood into their population. This cycle is called renascence. The memories and allegiances of a renascent demon are intentionally wiped while their power remains. And like any being, nature and environment are considerable factors in upbringing." As Maya spoke, Annette idly cast small illusions upon the koss board, tiny individuals surrounded by a ring of fire. "Some succumb quickly to the practices of those around them, others resist. In this small way it is not so different from any society tainted by evil. Like any child, they grow and develop, adopt or resist the lessons they are taught. Within the first century of development this results in a surprising breadth of individuality." Her eyes grew hard. "But time is an inevitable poison. The longer they live, the more their nature erodes that individuality and their innate cruelty becomes more apparent until they are no different from the next. That is also the reason most demons are not allowed to assume positions of power until they have proved their worth over the course of a century, sometimes longer."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Most," I realized, glancing down at the contract. "So why are the demonic princes an exception?"

"A fair question." Maya nodded. "Unlike souls, cores do not diminish over time. They grow stronger and more resilient from accumulated power gathered over a demon's lifespan. And this potential for power is the one aspect they do not lose. So while the rank-and-file cores are auctioned like cattle, the core of an arch-fiend, or any demon with primordial or prime evil essence net a far higher price.”

"But they do not face the decay of age," I said, growing frustrated with the semantics. "You've told me before that there's many who are thousands of years old. So why even follow through with this farce? Why artificially mimic the process of reincarnation at all, if it's within their power to simply revitalize a core with experiences and loyalties intact?"

"That's a topic of great debate among scholars, and there's no end of discussion on the topic. Keeping the balance of power in flux, churning conflict. But the most commonly held belief is that the unavoidable skew towards cruelty is a double-edged sword."

One of the tiny figures from Annette's illusions contorted, growing taller and more muscular until it dwarfed the others. It cackled in a silent laugh, then chased its siblings, swinging a considerable club.

"Infighting is to be expected within the fiendish consortium. Power struggles between legions are inevitable. Wars over territory, relics of power, all considered within the scope of ordinary affairs. What's not tolerated is overreach. Attempts to instate a greater tyrannical order over all of demon-kind. That's the purpose of the consortium. Deadlock. Every thousand years, there's a handful of attempts to instate hierarchy. Typically stemming from arch-fiends who have grown too grand for their station. Without fail, every one has fallen to the united front that rises to cut them down, their legions brought to heel. Their recovered cores undergo forced renascence, a process that can take centuries until their original personality and malignancy is purged. Only then will they be returned to the fold and auctioned to the highest bidder. These valuable cores form the foundation for future leadership, without compromising power."

"Always princes. Never kings," I murmured.

"Exactly," Maya answered.

The portrait began to take form, even as I resisted it. It made more sense now why Maya hadn't immediately raised some sort of alarm. In a way, Annette's suitors would be of similar age, absent—at least, temporarily—the sort of cruelty I'd come to expect from demons. They'd be motivated to seek her favor, with hopes of learning the secrets of the magic she held and passing that knowledge on to their legion. And with the way the pact was structured, while it limited her options, it placed my sister in a position of control.

Still.

"You do realize what you'd be giving up?" I turned to Annette, trying to mask the pain in my voice. "Even if you turn them all down, you'll be surrendering any possibility of a normal courtship. Building a family of your own."

"Where you see tragedy, I find only benefit." Annette stared down at her boots. "When Ozra explained it, there was a part of me that grew giddy. Their power structure is so different from ours. They care nothing for lineage or bloodline. My magic can be taught, though apparently, doing so will take most of a lifetime. In the circumstances I actually find someone to share the rest of my life with, the focus will be passing on my gifts, not serving as livestock, producing offspring after offspring until I'm old enough that my vitality is spent and my purpose is served, all the while watching someone else lead more poorly than I could." Her lip curled in disgust.

A question struck me. Something that I'd never asked her, because the answer seemed inherently obvious. But perhaps, it wasn't. "Do you... not want children, Annette?"

She shuddered. "I've always found the concept of a life growing within me disquieting. Mother told me, once, I would eventually outgrow that reticence. But as the years have passed and I've learned more of the particulars, it's become more horrifying, not less. Beyond the physical unpleasantness and mortal danger, something within me... sickens at the thought. And while I cannot define where it stems from, or why, I can say, definitively, that I don't want it. And likely never will." She cast a look at the contract, still in Maya's hands. "Even if I marry within the consortium, there's no expectation to produce an heir. Simply to learn, advance my abilities, and teach them to others. Barring this opportunity, perhaps, if I was a commoner, I could one day find a partner who felt similarly to me. But I am not a commoner. And there is simply no hope of finding such an arrangement in a royal match. They will all seek to advance their bloodline. Without exception. This is the best option. The best I've ever had."

I breathed out slowly. It was difficult to grasp because our experiences had been so different. Unlike Annette, from a young age, I'd often fantasized about building a happy family. Likely because it'd been denied to me, I'd elevated the idea, listening to my mother's storybook tales that often enshrined a core romance between hero and maiden, latching onto the idea of being a better father than the one I had. But the longer I thought about it, the more Annette's behavior over my previous life clicked into place. Throughout her teenage years, she'd been notoriously brutal to her suitors, even the rare few I'd considered decent. To the point it'd caused a diplomatic incident more than once. Which looking back, was odd, seeing how politically savvy she was in every other regard.

The Queen had it wrong. It wasn't some childish reservation Annette would grow out of. It was part of who she was. And just because it didn't conform to my expectations, or our parents', or anyone else's, didn't make it any less valid.

I put my hand on her head as she cringed, waiting for my response. "The expectations placed on us were different from the beginning. I can't know your mind, or your desires. And I'll be honest, it's difficult to relate. But if you're confident this is what you want, and you're not doing it simply for the benefit an alliance with another legion would yield or because you want answers, well, that's good enough for me. I'll make sure no one stands in your way."

My sister smiled a little. "And the debt grows larger. I promise I'll pay it back someday."

"None of that. You're the one taking the risk here." I forced myself to return the smile, leaving it fixed as I addressed Maya. "There've been steps taken to ensure the suitors behave themselves?"

"Oh, yes." Maya leafed through the contract, brow furrowing. "We spent a great deal of time on that. She can expel them at will, and they will be automatically and decisively ejected if they attempt to sidestep any term." She squinted, reviewing the list one last time before coming away satisfied. "It's thorough."

I took the contract from her and read through the entire thing again, more open-minded than I'd been the first time. As Maya attested, it was thorough in its protections of Annette, and consistent in maintaining her agency. It was also petty in a manner I found amusing, insisting that any potential suitor achieve high marks from a human tutor in etiquette, complete with a required reading list comprising no less than twenty books, at least a few of which I knew to be tomes.

Otherwise, the fact that Ozra intentionally excluded any princes from the Asmodial legion from the list of potential suitors gave me pause. It worked to our purposes, of course; the possibility of another demonic legion at our beck and call was a considerable force multiplier. It could be merely self-serving, concern over boosting favorable demonic princes within his own legion to heightened power and popularity to the point they might eventually challenge him for his position as arch-fiend. But his confidence, and the way he'd set himself up as an intermediary between Annette, as well as the monthly Koss meeting where he would, undoubtedly, try to influence her opinion, all gave the sense of a much bigger game being played here. I had no doubts the suitors along with the legions they hailed from would be handpicked by Ozra personally, and if Annette made a selection, that prince's legion would owe the arch-fiend far more than mere tribute.

If this arch-fiend was going to continue meddling in my affairs, I needed to at least gain a sense of his.

For my sister's sake, as well as my own.

The signing was a somber affair. Neither our side nor theirs seemed to want to risk saying anything that would prompt yet another revision. As my sister dipped quill in ink, my sense of nervousness and unease only grew. I hadn't let the mana go. It wasn't too late to end this here, try again another day.

This is the best option. The best I've ever had.

My brief hesitation was all it took for Annette to sign her name in impeccable penmanship at the bottom of the contract. Ozra took it from her gently, handing it off to Loria, who rolled it up and sealed it with wax, then snapped her fingers. The contract vanished in a cloud of smoke.

"Well argued my dear. And well negotiated." Ozra grinned, giving off the impression of a man who had eaten more than his fill. "Now, we both have some initial steps to take, do we not?"

"Yes." Annette agreed, steeling herself. "You're going to examine my soul."

"And if possible, grant a degree of understanding over where that pesky fear comes from." Ozra's smile ebbed. "Typically, I would let a mortal walk face first into something along these lines without warning. Better reactions that way. But as we appear to have found something of a kindred spirit in each other, I'll grant you this." He leaned forward, his expression serious. "Whatever the truth, it will not be pleasant. Few things in my realm or yours can cause the sort of extensive damage to a soul that Vogrin reported. None of them are kind. And there's a certain... disturbance that comes with learning how one met their end in a previous life."

"It doesn't matter." Annette leaned forward to match him, her mouth tight, struggling with momentary indecision. "If my mettle breaks, you'll pass on whatever information you can about the demon in the sewer to my brother?"

"As outlined in the contract." Ozra agreed, all flattery and admiration. "Whatever he believes, I'm as invested in his survival as yours."

"Then do it." Annette commanded.

And braced, as Ozra's fingertips brushed her forehead.