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defensivelee · 6 months

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Dona Dona: A Whole Day and Half a Night

The second chapter is a story about a boy and his very doomed friend. Please enjoy.

Here is the AO3 link! If anyone has anything they would like to say about it, I would appreciate comments said there rather than here on Tumblr. Nonetheless, please feel free to reblog :)

CW: abusive marriage, child abuse, forcing a child to commit crimes, cult-like setting, religious indoctrination, implied/referenced genocide, fantastic racism, ableist language, ableist slurs, torture, murder, terrorism, pedophilia, grooming, father/son incest, child sexual abuse, minimization and glorification of sexual assault (by the characters, not by me).

EXTRA WARNING PLEASE READ: there are a couple scenes where the boys "initiate" the sexual contact with the adults. This is NOT meant to show that kids are capable of consenting; this is the result of the specific mindset and religion they've been raised with as well as grooming. This goes without saying but any of this IRL is disgusting and I do not support it in any way.

“Happy birthday, William! Look what I got you!”

William blinked, sitting up on the grass. Liselotte was there, grinning at him with all her teeth. She’d gotten her stitches out a while back, but he wasn’t yet used to seeing her smile. Not that he was complaining; he kind of liked it.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s a knife,” she said matter-of-factly, swinging the dark blade around. “But it’s not just any knife, it’s a devil’s knife. So it’ll have extra protection and extra sharpness and extra love because I love youuuu!” She pulled him into an embrace, and he jumped slightly.

“Love me?”

“Yeah, you’re like my best friend!” Liselotte handed him the knife. “I stole it from the king, don’t tell.”

“You steal lots.”

“Well, you think I’m gonna politely ask to get something for my weird little Overlifer friend?” She snorted. “They’d literally execute me. And anyway, relax, this isn’t even the real one. You gotta summon me in the real world so I can actually give it to you.” She blinked at him hopefully. “So, what do you think?”

William turned the knife in his hands. It was very unique, he had to admit, with a shiny black blade and a glowing red line that ran all along its spine. The handle was a little lighter in color, but it was inscribed with scratches and stars that he could only guess was writing in Infernal, the original language of the devils.

“The blade is retractable,” Liselotte said proudly. “And look, can you read what it says?”

William shook his head.

“It says, for my very first and best friend in the entire world, William! I hope your six lives make you happy. I also kinda wanted you to have something to trace, ‘cause I know you like doing that.” She puffed out her fluffy chest. “Well?”

He truly didn’t know what to say. He knew he loved it very much and would be holding a lot in these coming days, but as to expressing that...he had no idea. She had known him for a long time now, though, and he knew she would understand whatever he wanted to say.

“Love it so much,” he blurted. “I love you.”

“Aww,” Liselotte said. “I knew you were a huge softie.” She lifted her tail and brought his head down, so that it was leaning on her shoulder. “What else did you get today?”

William paused. His mother had apologized for not being able to get him anything for his tenth birthday, said she hadn’t been able to catch his father in a good mood to ask. De Witt had given him a new book, he supposed, and shown him how to paint his nails. His father had only given him another mess to wipe off his sheets.

“A book,” he said simply, hiding his black nails in his fists.

“Wow.” Liselotte tilted her head to the side. “I mean, I guess I don’t get that much either. Is it a good book, though?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“So tired.”

“You wanna sleep a little, then?”

William nodded. “Bring the knife.”

“Tomorrow!”

“Yes.”

She kept her promise. She gave him the knife the next day and told him to take good care of it.

“I will.”

“You better. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

As much as he wanted to take the knife out for a test run when his father took him to another torture session, he knew it wasn’t possible, unless he wanted to be found out and executed for treason. But it looked so delightfully sharp and deadly; he couldn’t wait to use it.

He had actually gotten good at these torture sessions, he liked to think. It was nice to see someone so afraid of him for once.

His father didn’t care, of course. The only praise he gave William was more directions.

Another Sunday came by, another ring of the phone sounded. William waited outside of his father’s door to hear the conversation, his tail twitching with excitement. Please let it be de Witt.

“William!” his father called. “Come down here!”

William waited a few seconds before opening the door. “Yes, sir?”

“De Witt’s taking you downtown to observe the beginnings of the Dwaallichtsdag ceremonies,” his father explained. “You know what that is? I’ve never told you about it.”

“No, sir.” Really, William did know, but how would he explain that?

His father scowled. “Alright, well, go get ready. He’ll be here in an hour. And you be wary out there.”

The reign of the Southern Kingdom was upon Altos Diablos, which meant that he had to put on more layers and pretend that they weren’t the worst thing that had ever touched his skin. As soon as he was out of his father’s sight, inside of de Witt’s car, he began unbuttoning his coat.

“Hey, no, William, stop that,” de Witt said, adjusting William’s scarf. “You have to keep that on. Do you want to get sick?”

“Hot in here,” William mumbled.

“I know, but we have to be safe,” de Witt said. “Just leave it on, we won’t be driving for so long.” He smiled. “How’s the little prince today?”

William couldn’t help but smile as well, though he turned away towards the window so de Witt couldn’t see it. “Fine.”

De Witt was right, they weren’t in the car for so long. Once they were in the city, standing in the biting air, de Witt tightened William’s scarf around his head again. “It’s either that or the mask,” he told him. “And the mask doesn’t keep you warm.”

“Fine.”

William had no idea what to expect from this event. He knew he was already kind of enjoying it when he realized that it was happening in a park. He hardly visited them, but he loved the endless paths and trees.

“We have a little bit before the event starts,” de Witt said, checking his watch. “So you can run off if you’d like. But can I trust you to go find me at the stage over there?” He pointed at the stage looming in the distance with its huge horns that imitated those of the devils. “In twenty minutes. Promise me you’ll come back when it’s time.”

“No watch.”

“Then take mine.” De Witt unclipped his watch from his wrist, handing it to William. “I have a phone, anyway. Please be safe. Don’t leave the park.”

William nodded, waiting for him to leave before he took off running through the grass. With every bound he heard dry leaves crunching under his feet, which was a strange delight.

Yes, know my wrath! Dirty devils, that’s all you are! He paused now and then to kick them in the air.

It wasn’t long, though, before he remembered one of the few things that he agreed on with his father. He hated the Southern Kingdom! For all that he was wearing he realized he was still trembling under his coat.

Sorry, Liselotte. He sat back on a bench in the playground to catch his breath, maybe warm himself up, and watched the families and their children play there. I just don’t know why you guys would choose to rule over such awful months. It wasn’t even that the actual Southern Kingdom was a bitterly cold, biting wasteland with dead leaves everywhere. Liselotte said she’d never even seen snow before.

There were a few children there that looked like descendants of that very kingdom, with their bright horns like radio antennae and their thick, fluffy tails. If they’d had sharper teeth, maybe more eyes and fur, he would have thought that they were related to Liselotte.

But he knew they weren’t, which made it easier to know that these kids were going to die once his father ruled the world. He didn’t know why they were supposed to hate the Southern Kingdom and its descendants— he just knew they did. It was part of the doctrine or something.

Well, I hate them too. See, he was loyal. Liselotte didn’t change anything.

He brushed his tail along the wood chips on the ground and immediately withdrew it; they felt like the scales upon a snake to him. He began to kick them away from the bench, growling under his breath. As he did so, he felt something heavy move in his pocket, and he shoved his hand in to stop it from bouncing when he realized that it was de Witt’s watch.

He took out the watch and checked the time. It looked like maybe twenty minutes had passed, after all? A little more? Less?

Ugh! Watches. He huffed and left the wood chips as they were, running through the grass again towards the stage in the distance. His eyes stung as the wind blew into them, and his chest seemed to close itself up around every breath he tried to take through his scarf. But he kept running until he was standing in front of the stage, looking up at its dark horns. He glared up at those horns, then began to cough, shudders running from his chest down to his tail.

Not now! He heard people murmuring behind him, and his face grew hot with shame. He’d kill them all one day!

“William? William!” De Witt’s voice called out behind him, and he turned around to see the man running at him, scooping him up in his arms. “Are you alright?”

William wiggled around, trying to slip out from under de Witt, but his coughing went on incessantly, and he could only grip onto the arms around him to keep himself standing.

“Alright, let’s get you your inhaler.” De Witt patted his back, leading him through the crowd and the cold folding chairs they sat on. He sat down on one in the third row, and William wondered if he’d just chosen it or if he had been waiting here the whole time.

De Witt sat him down on the chair right beside him, digging through the pockets in his coat and pulling out William’s inhaler. He slid the cap off and shook it a little, rubbing William’s back as he did so. “Do you want me to do it?”

William shook his head, snatching the inhaler from de Witt’s hand and batting his tail against his face. He pulled his scarf down and huffed out as much as he could, then held the inhaler up to his lips.

“Who taught you?” De Witt smiled.

Can’t you see I can’t talk right now?! William turned away from him resolutely. Besides, he didn’t have a good answer for that— he’d sort of just read the instructions. His doctors weren’t good for anything; they knew very well what his father was involved in and were terrified of saying anything wrong about his son, his heir. As far as they were concerned, he was perfectly healthy, just the way his father liked to see him.

“Oh, look,” de Witt said, nudging his shoulder. “I know you always like a chance to meet your enemies, so I’ve brought you to another one.” He pointed at the stage, and William looked up as he continued to puff from his inhaler.

A tall man with huge black and white horns curving inwards over his head and a long, bluish tail strolled onto the stage, his striking yellow eyes made even brighter still by the way his dark hair and gas mask obscured his face. He dangled a microphone from a wire on one finger, and William watched it swing back and forth.

“It’s a pleasure to be here again,” the stranger said in his muffled voice, tossing up the microphone and holding it to where his mouth should have been through the mask. “In windy, shitty New Amsterdam. It’s really a beautiful place, though, if you don’t think about it too hard. Maybe it was prettier when I was growing up here. I don’t remember. I really don’t.” He laughed, flicking his tail dismissively. The gold jewelry dangling from it clinked as he did so, and William wondered how he could stand the heavy metal on him. “Right! A pleasure! Hello, everyone!”

There were some awkward greetings on the part of the audience, and the man laughed again. “You sound half-drowned! That’s not at all the holiday spirit I was expecting! But I get it. Southern Kingdom’s not my favorite reign, either. I usually spend it in the beaches of Grand Cabaret, like maybe some of you do, but this year, and maybe for all the years after, I’d like to celebrate Dwaallichtsdag more traditionally. I’ve always considered the Berufungsachse Governorate my home, so I’m here to stay!” He paused, his gaze passing over William. “For those of you who don’t know, who were dragged here by your hardworking parents or relatives, you may call me Charles Stewart, philanthropist and the newest owner of FaciRonya, the largest producer of your vaccines.”

William slipped the inhaler out of his mouth and narrowed his eyes, his tail twitching fiercely. Charles Stewart! He wasn’t just any boring businessman, he was the most recent leader of the Disciples of Restoration, the only rivals of the Devils of Orange-Nassau, who were founded by descendants of the Eastern Kingdom. William had heard whispers about them often, mostly concerning his mother, but they hadn’t seemed to be much of a threat at all— his father had said they were in hiding after some interactions with invasive devils. Devils that could possess humans.

But it seemed they were back now, in the very city where their rivals roamed the streets. William knew instantly that everything that had just come out of Charles’ mouth was a lie. This whole stupid show was just him announcing to every enemy that he had returned to New Amsterdam to face them head-on.

Aside from the Allies, this was William’s worst enemy.

“We celebrate Dwaallichtsdag every year to thank the dwaallichten for creating our universe with the Nine Honors at the beginning of time,” Charles went on. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell that story, though. Out of the remaining powers of the dwaallichten came their remnants, creating billions upon billions of spirits made of their energies. Some remain even today! Yes, these spirits are very, very old.” He lashed his tail behind him, and as if it were a signal, out of the air bounded four little spaniel-like dogs, their eyes and markings glowing.

Gasps rose up all around William as the dogs ran around the stage, barking with their tails wagging rapidly behind them. Charles gestured to them with a hand, and they floated up beside him to rest on his shoulders and arms. They looked incredibly light to William.

“These are some of my spirits that I have tamed,” Charles announced proudly. “They’re just as loyal as any other dog.” He paused to scratch one of the dogs under its chin. “I’ll tell you right now, I don’t know why we see them as pests. They’re wonderful, curious little creatures. Some are malevolent, yes, but humans are like that, too. To kill them is to kill the only remnants we have of the forces that created our world! And what disrespect to do so! Truth be told, I think they’re just like us.” He kissed another dog on its nose, and the whispers around William continued.

That was something new. He’d never met anyone who viewed dwaallicht remnants with such admiration, and it was the last thing he’d expect of an Overlifer. Those were usually very strict on keeping with their ancient hierarchies. And his father, of course, only ever killed them, set traps for them, whenever he found some in the house.

Poor little things. Poor little babies. He watched the dogs nuzzle up beside Charles and couldn’t imagine ever slamming his foot down on their backs to kill them the way his father sometimes did.

“And you’re probably thinking, oh, he would say that,” Charles said. “His own son is a dwaallicht spirit!” He raised his hand, ribbons suddenly swirling all around his arm and shooting up in the sky, where a young boy with floppy ears as dark as his hair and a green cape flew up and grinned down at the audience that met him with polite applause.

“Hello, everyone!” he yelled, landing hard on the stage in front of Charles. William’s eyes widened as he watched the boy’s body move, his tail wagging so hard that he was wiggling just as much as the dogs. “I’m the Duke of Monmouth, from the Eastern Kingdom! Well, not actually, I was born some place far away from here, but that’s where I lived forever and ever until my papa found me!” He pointed at Charles, who watched him with shining eyes.

“Talking spirit,” William murmured.

“Yes,” de Witt said. “Not very common, but you’ll find them here and there. I have to say, though, I’ve never heard of anyone adopting them like this. Even just as pets.”

An Overlifer has a remnant son? William tilted his head to the side. Did that make Monmouth the heir of the Disciples of Restoration? Surely not, only humans could receive six lives!

“Happy Dwaallichtsdag!” Monmouth yapped out, and Charles laughed.

“No, my boy, it’s about a week into Northern Kingdom.”

“Close enough,” Monmouth said, sticking his tongue out, and this time there was laughter from everyone. William leaned back, blinking in astonishment. If he’d shown such insolence in front of his father, it would have been met with a sharp slap to the mouth.

“Take notes, William,” de Witt said.

Notes on what? William glanced up at him, then looked away, handing him back the inhaler. De Witt chuckled and adjusted the scarf back around his nose, much to William’s irritation. He was still finding it hard to pull air back in his lungs.

“It’s so good to be here in New Amsterdam with all my papa’s friends,” Monmouth said. “I can do so many things you guys can’t do!” He waved his arm, transforming into a crow and flying over Charles’ head. The audience let out delighted cries and whispers, and William snorted, starting to get up. He didn’t need to see this!

“William.” De Witt pulled him back by his shoulder. “Sit down. We’re not leaving yet.”

William pulled out de Witt’s watch and checked the time. He groaned when he saw that they’d be here for another hour.

“Just pay attention,” de Witt said. “Are you cold?”

“No.” That was only partially true, his tail and hands were freezing. He fiddled with the watch for a bit, feeling the metal that had warmed in his pocket slowly get colder, and then he reached out to take de Witt’s hand, starting to clip the watch back on.

“What?” He looked down, stifling a laugh. “You want to put it back on me?”

William nodded firmly.

“You can keep it, if you’d like,” de Witt said, pulling his hand away. “You need it more than I do.”

William cocked his head to the side, then shoved the watch back in his pocket before de Witt changed his mind.

But it wasn’t long before he took it out again just to hear it click and jingle in his hands. He wasn’t interested in what tricks an enemy Overlifer had taught his pet spirit. It was a lot of shapeshifting, a lot of flying and ribbons everywhere. Nothing that could be counted as a threat, though, so William found himself paying more attention to the watch he dangled over his legs. At one point he dropped it on the metal chair and it made a loud clanking noise, causing William to bounce back in surprise.

“Shh.” De Witt nudged him. “Don’t make so much noise.”

William pushed de Witt’s arm away, going back to dangling the watch in the air.

If anybody had asked him that night what had happened with Charles and Monmouth, he knew he would have been in trouble, because he had no idea what they were doing. Some holiday show it was, just an opportunity for an Overlifer to show off what his spirits could do! And yet everyone had eaten it all up. Where was the love for his father?

He asked that question after the event, when de Witt asked what William would like to eat and he had simply responded with Black&White. It was what his father always bought him after they were done torturing and interrogating hostages in the city, not as a reward, but because they were hungry and they just happened to be out and Black&White was always right there.

“Your father’s had it...somewhat difficult with the public, even with his own people,” de Witt explained while they waited for their food. “He doesn’t really make himself likable, which is a must if you’re going to be, you know, a wealthy businessman, probably the supreme ruler later on— you’ve got to win the hearts of the people, William. He never learned that lesson.” He paused. “Do you like him?”

William shook his head. He could believe in an Overlifer’s authority without liking him, that was easy. It was just politics, which was confusing, but the term seemed applicable here.

“See? If he can’t even win the heart of his son and wife, what hope does he have to make everyone love him? You’ve got to do it like Charles, William.”

“Say nothing and everything?”

De Witt frowned, then laughed. “I guess that’s one way to put it. Just don’t be as blunt and cruel to all the people below you as your father is, and I think you’ll be okay.”

William grunted, putting his head down on the table. The only thing he didn’t like about Black&White was that they didn’t have cats here.

It was because of de Witt that William was brought to his first council meeting of the Devils of Orange-Nassau, where his father said they’d forgotten to bring another chair for him, oops, guess you’ll have to sit on my lap. William wouldn’t have minded it if he was younger, and if his father wasn’t grabbing onto his waist and tail in a way that made his stomach churn.

“William here has finally seen our worst enemy in the flesh,” his father said, waving his cigarette as he spoke. William covered his mouth and nose to stifle his coughs, though he was afraid everyone could see how hard he was trying because his eyes were welling up with tears. “Tell us about him, William. What were your first observations?”

“T-Tall. Big horns.” Bigger than yours.

“Tell the boy to speak up,” said one of the men, and William shot bullets through him with his eyes.

“Speak up, William, get your hand away from your face.” His father twisted his tail under the table, and William bit his lip. Beside his father, he saw de Witt wince.

But he had no choice, he had to obey. So he brought his hand down, and as he opened his mouth to speak, his whole body was wracked with the coughs he’d been trying so desperately to hide. He looked up, trying to take a deep breath, but it only made him cough more.

“Sir,” de Witt said, standing up, “do you happen to have his inhaler with you? This looks like an attack to me.”

“What?” William heard his father growl. “Why ever would I bring it with me? It was up to him to remember.”

“Well, if you were planning to smoke beside him, I assumed—”

“Silence.” His father prodded him painfully in the side. “Did you bring it with you, William?”

William nodded, and his father pushed him off his lap, standing up behind him. “Excuse me, I’ll just deal with this real quick. Come on, William.”

De Witt said something else, and his father must have snapped back, but William couldn’t hear it over his wheezing anymore. He looked back with wide eyes at his father, who only took his hand and pulled him out of the room, slamming the door behind him with his tail.

“Listen here, William,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t get out of talking just by conveniently getting an asthma attack, of all things, during our meetings. One day you’ll be leading them.”

“S-Sir, I-”

“Shut up, shut up!” He raised his hand in a fist, and William scurried back, only for his father to bring his foot down on his tail and pull it towards him. William stumbled, and his father lifted him up by his shirt, still stepping on his tail.

“You don’t run from me,” he hissed. “You understand that, William? I’m only not going to beat the shit out of you because you gotta go back in there, but make it the last time this happens.”

William blinked, fighting to catch his breath. He could feel tears running down his face, his tail stinging fiercely where his father was stepping on it, at the base too where it was being tugged down. But he was pleased— he hadn’t even let out a squeak.

“Do whatever you need to do and come right back in.” His father took another puff of his cigarette, then blew the smoke out at his son’s face. He dropped William on the ground and walked back into the room, apologizing for the interruption.

Interruption. There was a word William couldn’t say yet.

Well, he wasn’t going back in to face them all now, even de Witt. At least, not so soon. So he took his inhaler out of the pockets in his coat and paced there in the hall as he taught his lungs to breathe again, all alone. He found himself wishing that de Witt was here to watch, to smile at him in that gentle way his father had never learned.

He was still wheezing when he put his inhaler away, and he could still smell his father’s cigarette smoke wafting in the air, so he decided to stop by the bathroom to wait until his father was done with that stick. He didn’t know what he’d do in there, but it was a valid excuse.

On his way there he passed by a large window where he could see all of New Amsterdam from the top of this building. Well, he should have been able to, but the smog reached its claws so far into the distance, and the only thing he really could see was how the city was covered in it. Even in his head he didn’t know the word, but he knew what he felt as he stared outside.

Disappointing. If he was in charge of this nation, he’d fix this all up in no time. All the righteous children with asthma deserved some peace.

He turned sharply and nearly collided with a boy far taller than himself. The boy yelped, stumbling back, and as he did so he stepped right onto William’s tail. William cried out, and the boy jumped off of it.

“Oh my Ferocity, I’m so sorry!” he said. “You just scared me, is all. You look like death!” He took William’s tail, rubbing at the spot where he had stepped on it. “I’m still very, very sorry, did I break anything? My father taught me some tricks to wrap up broken bones. If you have any, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?!” William pulled his tail away. “How dare you? You know who I am?”

The boy blinked, and it was then that William allowed himself to properly look at him. He was blonde, with many of his curls falling neatly over his face, and his eyes were blue, but not strikingly so. More fascinating to William, however, was how he had nothing that on him that could indicate he was a real descendant of the devils. No horns, no tail, not even differently-colored sclerae like William’s father.

“Oh- oh, wait, are you the Prince?” The stranger’s eyes widened. “You’re William Henry, aren’t you? Oh, those horns, you are the Prince!” He sprung back and dropped to one knee, taking William’s hand and kissing it fiercely. “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to disrespect you, I was just on my way to see you but I didn’t know you’d be outside and everything, I’m so, so sorry.”

William’s first instinct was to pull away, but he’d often seen his father’s subordinates kiss the Overlifer’s hands with much the same reverence and submission. He thought it was fun, how everyone was so afraid of the wrath of the true authority. Even him, when he shouldn’t have been! He deserved to receive that worship as well!

And now here it was. He lashed his tail behind him and lifted his head proudly, at this featureless, Ally-wannabe boy.

“That hurt.”

“Y-Yes, I imagine. I didn’t mean it, I’m very, very sorry.”

“No forgiveness,” William said. “I’ll kill you.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “W-Wait, sir, I’ll do anything! I’m only eleven, do you know how much longer I have to live? It’s a lot. I mean, not as long as you, sir, of course, but I really don’t want to die now, please. I mean, I guess if you wanted to kill me, then-”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” William shrieked, and he lunged at the boy, throwing him back against the ground. As swift as a viper, he took the knife Liselotte had given him and flicked the blade out. The boy cried out in shock and fear, and at that moment, they both heard the creak of a door behind them.

They looked back to see that William’s father stood in the doorway, glowering at them both, with one of his vassals behind him. Mijnheer Bentinck, William knew him as, and he knew in an instant that this boy was his son, judging by the matching color of their hair and how the father had no devil features, either.

“What are you doing, William?” His own father’s voice was dangerous.

“Hurt me.” William pointed at the boy lying before him, quietly putting his knife away. He hoped his father hadn’t seen it.

“What?” Bentinck glared down at his son. “Is this true, Hans?”

“N-No!” Hans protested. “I would never! Well, I may have stepped on his tail, but it was an accident, I swear!”

“And of course my son thought that for such an offense you deserve to die.” William’s father did not sound sarcastic; he actually sounded rather pleased. “William, get off of him. What these angels are worth keeping around for is for what they can do to serve you. It’s no good if you kill them right away, you have to make sure they never do it again. You have to teach this boy fear.” His rat-like tail ran under Hans’ chin, and he smiled back at William. “Have you taught him fear?”

“Yes.” William nodded rapidly.

“Good. If he does it again, then you can kill him.” His father ruffled Hans’ hair. “That was your first strike, little one.”

“Um- thank you for your mercy, sirs.” Hans tilted his head to the side, and his own father nodded.

“Very good, Hans,” he said. “This wasn’t how I intended for you to meet the prince, but I’m glad you did regardless. It seems he taught you a lesson.”

So that was what Hans was there for, apparently. To learn from William, to begin his training as a servant of the Devils of Orange-Nassau. When William heard that, he wondered why Hans hadn’t already begun, like he had when he was five. There was too much to learn, why start him off so late?

“Because, William,” his father told him, “his older siblings all started off at this age, too. I told this man not to wait so long for each of them or they wouldn’t have the stomach for war like you do. I suppose you still turned out a little stunted on that aspect, but can you imagine what it’s like for them? It’s pathetic to watch.”

“Not fair!” William cried.

“Hm, no, it isn’t. But we can make it fair, can’t we?”

“How?”

“Make the tests harder for little Hansi,” his father said, eyes flashing. “After all, the others are merely training as guards, as bombers, maybe assassins if they’re lucky. But he will train beside you, he will work for you, specifically— I chose him myself. It is only sensible that we hold him up to a higher standard.”

“Yes, sir!” William’s tail wagged fiercely at the tip. Only the bravest and strongest were worthy of serving him!

Hans did not at all react to the sight of blood on a hostage like how William expected, though. He didn’t cry, he didn’t vomit, only flinched on occasion— but it was as if he could not look away. He covered his ears at every gunshot, but still did not cry, and enthusiastically took up the gun at his first practice.

“Hold it with both hands or it’ll go flying,” William’s father told him.

William snorted. Even he had noticed that when he had first been allowed to use a gun.

Hans, he suspected, was not very stupid, as he knew when to bow, when respect was owed to his Overlifers, but he was also not very bright. There were things he should have been horrified by, William wanted to see him afraid like he had been on the day they met, and it annoyed him to no end that he had the most boring reactions to everything he learned.

“Alright, boys, let’s see how well you handle this one on your own,” his father said on the day that Hans first helped kill someone. “This one, we found out, was conspiring with the Disciples of Restoration. He didn’t get far before we found out, but what do we call this, hm?”

“Traitor!” Hans and William hissed in unison.

“Yes. And what penalty does that warrant?”

“Execution!”

“Correct. Execution. You two will execute him, and we will all watch, no interference. My only command is that William must be the one to land the last blow.” He looked down at his son. “All the blood that you spill is necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” William nodded firmly, and he and Hans looked at what they were working with. The traitor was rather unremarkable, the scarred horns and tail faintly reminiscent of the Eastern Kingdom. Of course someone like that would betray the Devils. They didn’t need to lift the blindfold from his eyes to see that he was afraid, but there wasn’t much he could do now— if he stood, he’d just be shot back down.

“Okay, follow me.” William glared at Hans. He didn’t want him to mess this up with his incredibly dull ideas of torture.

“Yes, sir.” Hans watched as William took a blade from the table, running a finger all along the side. It wasn’t as pretty as Liselotte’s, but it would do.

Liselotte...

He turned back to the table, feeling around until he found the weapon he was looking for: a sewing needle. There were a few of them here, all still covered in blood, which was probably dangerous, but William would make sure to throw this one away when he was done.

“Hans. String.”

“Yes, sir!” Hans looked around wildly, then gasped, kneeling down to pull out a loose string from his shoelace. “How long?”

“Very.” William raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected Hans to actually find one in the moment, really he just wanted the boy to mess up on something. And then his father would be furious, and finally, William would see Hans afraid again.

“Got it!” Hans sprung back up again. “It’s a little curly, but I think it’ll do. What do we need it for?”

William took the string. “Traitors run mouths. Don’t deserve to open it again.” He narrowed his eyes, pushing the string through the tiny hole. “So can’t scream when you die.”

“W-Wait, I thought an execution was just a bullet to the head,” Hans said. “Or a knife to the throat. This sounds unnecessarily painful.”

“Huh?” William glared at him. “You don’t care. Everything’s necessary.”

“I just thought there were ethics about it, like my father taught me,” Hans said nervously. “You only torture a guy you’re trying to get information out of, but that doesn’t even really work. So I guess it’s just because it scares people. Or maybe just because we like seeing others in pain. But, you know, at the end of the day there’s still people on the other end of it, so you- you have to only torture responsibly. Right?” He nodded once, as if he was pleased with himself.

William could only stare. How had Hans come to such a conclusion? How had he even survived it? If William thought that way, he would never be able to torture somebody who deserved it. He’d taught himself long ago that the people on the other end of this were not people, they had crossed his path for a reason and were therefore just tools, steps he could climb on to reach his glorious destiny! To think of them as human was frankly insulting.

And yet here Hans was, hurting them despite the way he viewed them as being exactly that.

“Monster,” William spat.

“W-What?”

“Not people. Enemies. Feels better. You get better.” He batted Hans’ shoulder with his tail. “Trust me.”

Hans’ eyes widened slightly, and he nodded again. “Yes. Enemies. That makes sense. Thank you, sir.”

For all of Hans’ faults, William couldn’t deny that he took everything said to him to heart, and that he was obedient like no one else he’d ever met before. Perhaps he could make a great servant one day, after all. Maybe not even one day, maybe right now, if he could do this.

“Hans.”

“Yes?”

“Be strong.” William handed him the needle.

Hans took a deep breath as he fiddled with the needle, raising it over the traitor’s lips. “It’s not going to hurt,” William heard him say to himself.

Their traitor would have probably begged to differ, and, William supposed, he did beg, or at least he did before Hans finished sewing the lips shut. By the time he was done, there was blood running down his arms, and he let the needle fall at his feet, his hands shaking.

William narrowed his eyes, the stench of blood in the air crawling down his throat. But he held his breath and stepped forward. “Hold his head.” He knew he wasn’t tall nor strong enough to hold it up by himself.

Hans obeyed, and William ran the knife across the traitor’s throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw de Witt watching from the shadows, then turning away just as William stepped back, the unworthy traitor falling before him.

“C-Can I go wash my hands now?” Hans swallowed, and William turned to look at him. There were tears in his eyes, but he was clearly trying to stifle his gasps, holding his head up and smiling when William looked at him.

Somehow William realized he didn’t want to see this boy afraid anymore. Yet he couldn’t let him run off, either; his father always had the same thing to say when William himself made that request.

“Let it lie on you. You get used to it.” Then he did something his father had never done. He took Hans’ hands in his own, which were wetter and warmer than he thought, but he didn’t draw back only because his hands were worse. “Good job.”

His father walked up behind him, slapping him behind the head. “No praise, William.”

Later, when they were washing their hands in the bathroom, that was when Hans began to cry, and William looked over at him.

“I- I’m sorry, sir,” Hans said, clearing his throat. “I just- I tried what you said, and it’s so hard when they- they still look like they’re hurting. I didn’t wanna say anything in front of your dad, but- but how can you do this? I wasn’t one who came here to kill people, I- I just wanted to learn to fight. To serve you.”

William tilted his head to the side. “They’re not hurting.”

“W-What do you mean?” Hans looked down at the blood he was washing off his hands. “This is all real.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not real. Tricks. Think that way. Dwaallicht spirit tricks.” William leaned forward, tapping a finger against Hans’ skull. “Helps me. Then you get strong. Still enemies, but not real.”

Hans turned off the water, blinking down at William. “It might take me a while.”

“That’s your fault.” William whisked out of the bathroom with a conclusive lash of his tail.

Later that night, when his father was lying beside him, he asked what he thought of Hans.

“Very good. He should stay.”

“He should stay?” His father narrowed his eyes. “Very well. He’ll work beside you for the rest of his life. But make sure he always knows his place under you, or I’ll make sure to remind him. And you make sure you know your place above him, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Liselotte was quickly informed of this new boy, and, much to William’s surprise, she was actually delighted rather than jealous as he thought she would be. She wanted to know everything about him, and was happy enough with what William told her, except for what he said about their positions.

“He works for me.”

“What- don’t you want to be friends with him?” Liselotte asked. “Like you’re friends with me.”

“Just want you.”

“Aw, but you need friends in your world too!” She patted him between the horns. “What if one day we can’t talk?”

“Never happening.”

“You don’t know that. Look, just in case, William.” She turned to him, holding William’s hands in her own. “Make some friends out there! He sounds super nice. I’d want to be his friend, if I were you. Besides, I think he wants to be yours, too. So I think the first step to making him one is to tell him to stop callin’ you sir. You’re younger than him, that’s just dumb.”

“But- but I’m the power,” William protested. Liselotte merely waved her tail in the air, the jaws snapping beside his face.

“So what? It’s a sign that you think he’s better than everyone else!”

William hesitated. Technically it went against what his father had told him, to make sure Hans knew his place, but as long as he didn’t find out...that would be okay, he thought. And maybe it would show Hans that he did mean it, if he was willing to undermine his father’s orders.

“Fine.”

The next time he and Hans met at another training session, where they were just testing out their aim, William took him aside as soon as he had the chance. The only other adult there was de Witt, loading some more guns for his older master and the younger one, but William didn’t mind if he heard this.

“Hans. Stop calling me sir.”

“What?” Hans drew back in shock. “Why? You’re the prince! You’re gonna rule the world one day!”

“Not right now. I’m William.” He flicked his tail uncomfortably. “Just not when my father is here.”

“If you say so, sir. I- I mean, William. William!” Hans clapped his hands together. “Yes, William. Did you know that’s my other name? Hans William. Hans William Bentinck. They named me after your father.”

“I like it,” William said honestly.

De Witt looked up, meeting William’s eye for a second there. He gave him a firm nod, and William took that to mean that he’d made the right choice. But he would have to ask later to make sure.

He did get to ask when William’s father had to go do other business, deal with some stuff back home, and so de Witt took William and Hans to Black&White for dinner. When Hans went to the bathroom, William immediately let his whole body fall back on de Witt.

“We share the same name!”

“You and Hans?” De Witt nodded. “Yeah, you do. What you did back there was-”

“Good, right?” William looked up at him expectantly. “I like him.”

“It was very good, William.” De Witt smiled down at him, patting his shoulder. “A boy like you needs friends. There’s no use in driving a potential one away by enforcing the divide that your father wants you to. Remember, William, you can gain more respect by treating others like equals. I think Hans is someone you need.”

Someone I need? Surely not— he’d lived ten years just fine without him. If he had to live another ten without him, he’d be okay.

Hans learned quickly. His hands still shook when he was ordered to kill someone, when his father told him to use the guns he had practiced with on real people, scared and desperate sacrificial lambs. He still cried afterwards, and William was just glad that he’d been introduced to this world far earlier.

But at the very least, Hans had taken what William had taught him and ran ahead with it. After the very last time he had cried because he had killed someone, he’d simply stated that he hated the dwaallicht spirits. He hated them because their predecessors had created this world, and he hated them because he’d made the toys of the Overlifers bleed.

“I hate their stupid tricks.” Hans blew his nose, and William leant against his shoulder to remind him he was there. “They should have made our enemies faceless so we know who to kill and don’t accidentally kill someone who doesn’t deserve all that pain. You see how they scream, William?”

“If enemies were faceless...too easy. A challenge by the oldest Overlifers. Tests your mind and spirit.” William patted his hand. “You’re getting better. Strong Hanni.”

Hans laughed when he heard the name, and that was when William decided to keep it.

There was one night, when the Bentincks invited them over for dinner. William’s mother had actually come, for once, and William could not take his eyes off of her. He saw too little of her now, as she was always shut up in her room, or William was always out with de Witt or his father. And he certainly couldn’t go see her at night.

But her eyes were on her husband, which was the most annoying thing ever. They saw enough of him all the time!

“More peas, Prince?”

William jolted and looked up at Hans’ mother. She’d been offering all sorts of food for him to try, but she’d apparently caught on that the only thing he really liked here were the peas. He nodded, and she laughed, petting him between the horns as she pushed more onto his plate. He would have to remember to reward her family when he ruled the world.

“That’s all you’re gonna eat? Aren’t you hungry?” The oldest of Hans’ siblings, Henry, looked down at him, and William smiled nervously, scooting away from him on his chair.

“Leave him alone, he just likes peas,” Hans said.

“Why are you defending him?” one of the younger sisters, Isabella, piped up. “Do you like him, Hansi?” She gasped, tugging at his sleeve suddenly when she saw his blush. “Ooh, you do like him! Hansi’s in love with the Prince!”

“I’m literally NOT—”

“Isn’t that some form of heresy?” Eusebius asked.

“I just said I’m not! Shut up!” Hans covered his face, and his mother laughed.

“You have high standards, Hans,” she said.

William blinked, looking up at his father. Is this what he meant when he said that Hans would be beside him for the rest of his life? He knew that a marriage would be arranged for him once they had taken over the world, but was that the plan already?

Somehow he wasn’t averse to it. Hans would make a pretty funny, if somewhat lame, husband. At least he was rich, too.

But William’s father only growled low and lashed his tail. “I don’t care what little Hansi thinks about my son. I have other plans for him to serve us in the Devils of Orange-Nassau, whatever may happen.”

The whole family fell silent, and William saw Hans look down uncomfortably.

“Hans is, admittedly, a very beautiful young man,” his father began. “Those golden locks look as if they belong on the manes of devils. And he’s a very good listener, proud and obedient. It has been a great pleasure working with him.”

What? William’s eyes widened. His father never praised anyone! Why was he praising Hans? Did he think he was better?

He looked back down, wiping furiously at his eyes. He didn’t know why it upset him so much now. He thought he’d gotten used to it. Behind him, he could feel Hans’ mother rubbing soothingly at his horns, and he leaned into the touch, glaring at his father out of the corner of his eye.

“Thank you, sir!” Hans sat up taller. “I’ve liked working with you and your son, too.”

“Indeed. I think it is time I inform you and your family of what I have decided for you.” The Overlifer looked to Hans’ father, his eyes darkening. “As I said, your son is a lovely boy. He has no features of the devil ancestors, and I believe you have told me before that your family belongs to an unbroken line of purely human ancestors. The devils never touched your bloodline. That makes him eligible to become an Ally.”

William stifled a gasp. Surely not! The Allies were their enemies! And besides, Hans would have to fight a devil. He was skilled, but a devil was something different— he was not prepared for that just yet.

“Me?” Hans’ eyes shone. “You’re gonna choose me?”

“Yes.” William’s father nodded. “We need a powerful Ally at our side to lend legitimacy to our cause in the eyes of the public, and to shake off suspicion by the government. There are restrictions on who can become an Ally, but what can the Master do once we have one?” He shrugged. “He’s not going to question the divine authority of the old devils. And if he does, he knows the business he’s up against. Especially since we have you— Allies are incredibly powerful. They bring in money constantly. They can swallow bullets. They can survive fires. Anything I can do at my fourth life, really. Doesn’t that sound nice, Hans?”

Hans nodded rapidly. “Yes, sir!”

“You would make my son an Ally?” Hans’ father shook his head. “Absolutely not, sir! Those Allies are a bunch of frauds, and all their worshippers do is objectify and use them for the sake of divine arguments! Besides, he has to fight a devil— do you know how dangerous those are?”

“I know very well.” His leader’s eyes flashed. “I never said he would have to become one now. We’ll give him time to mature, to fill out all nicely so he looks a bit more presentable. Regardless, he will become an Ally, whatever you say. And if that’s a problem?” He flicked his tail ever so slightly at William, but he saw the signal and recognized it immediately.

There was a light clink, and then William stood behind Hans’ father, his tail coiled multiple times around his neck, holding Liselotte’s blade up to his throat. He realized it too late, but it was the first one he had taken in his pocket. He only hoped his own father didn’t notice.

“William—!” Hans cried out.

“That’s sir to you, young man!” William’s father snarled. He looked back at his subordinate. “As for you, Bentinck, if any of my divine orders are a problem for you, then we can make it real easy for you to follow them. My son knows all the same tricks yours does; if he wanted to change your mind, he would know how to.”

Hans’ father blinked in shock, his hand raised slightly towards William’s tail. Then he bowed his head. “Very well. Forgive me, sir.”

William slowly withdrew his blade, stuffing it in his pocket and sitting back down to eat his peas. He was aware of the whole family staring at him and his father.

“Thank you,” his father said pleasantly. “Hans, come here.”

Hans hesitated before standing up, and William’s father pulled him close, ruffling his hair affectionately. “You’ll make a fine Ally, boy. We’ll begin your training for fighting the devils right away.”

William swallowed. He didn’t like the way Hans’ eyes were shining as he looked up at his father, nor did he like the way his father was looking down at Hans. He saw his mother look at Hans’ mother, but neither of them said anything.

What they learned next was the existence of handler spells, which were necessary to know as William would be Hans’ Ally handler, to neutralize any unwanted power and to protect himself. These spells were usually written on slips of paper in Infernal, which was quite a complicated language to write, William quickly found out. But whereas he picked it up easily, Hans had more trouble figuring out the shapes.

“Can’t we just do them without the paper?” Hans asked once.

“You are only able to do handler spells freely in the realm of the devils,” de Witt explained. “You’ll have your own powers once you’re an Ally, though, so you probably won’t have to worry about them for long.”

That was good, because Hans was also bad at activating the spells. Well, supposedly he wasn’t bad, he was actually doing fine, considering that most of the demonstrations on the part of de Witt or William’s father didn’t really work either. They said the devils were on the other end of the spell, so it was up to them to decide whether or not they would make the spell go through, which was stupid, William thought, because why were the Overlifers using the inferior devils for their power?

“Do the devils know?” William asked. “Who’s using the spell? Is that why it doesn’t work for us?”

“Of course they don’t know,” his father snapped. “They’re just being difficult. They only respond to someone with great power, great influence, you must control them—”

Bullshit! William took out a slip of paper containing the hardest spell he could think of and slammed it down with his foot. “Louis le Grand, délivre-nous du tout mal!” he yelled as he did so, and in an instant the shadows all around the room sprung up and surrounded him in a giant, defensive circle.

He gasped. It was exactly what he had imagined it to be. He almost hadn’t expected it to work, though in hindsight, he supposed he should have, considering all the spells he had cast so far had worked out. Nothing like Hans’ attempts.

It was so quiet here. Maybe he would stay here forever. He sat down, staring up at the shadows, and then a hissing voice spoke from the shadows.

“Hello, Overlifer prince.”

William jolted, his tail twitching nervously. “Who said that?”

“Louis le Grand, or at least a reflection of me. I am the one you called for; I am delighted to be here. I’ve heard much about you, and- wait, what earring is it that you are wearing?”

William didn’t answer. It couldn’t be— the reason this spell was so difficult was because it called upon the ruler of the Southern Kingdom, and he never answered. But he came this time, and he was actually speaking to William. Liselotte’s king was speaking to him!

“William. Answer me.”

“No.” William twirled a finger in the air, and the shadows all crawled back slowly. He waited for Louis to speak again, but it seemed he had left.

He was met only with the stare of his father. His eyes seemed to be searching William’s own, their gaze snapping from him to the shadows and then back again. He looked...maybe angry, but William couldn’t pinpoint it, the unusual look he saw in his father’s eyes that somehow pleased him.

“What- what the fuck, William,” he blurted. “What the fuck was that?”

“Woah,” Hans breathed behind him. “You’re very powerful, sir.”

“Don’t call him that!” William’s father turned to hiss at him. “He is not. I- this training session is over! De Witt, take the boys back home, I’ve got work to do.” He left with a furious lash of his tail, leaving de Witt standing there with the most annoying smile William had ever seen.

“Very good. I’m proud of you, William.”

He knew it was bad to accept the praise, but he tilted his head up anyway, smiling over at Hans.

His father didn’t come into his room that night, which meant he had more time with Liselotte. She’d been keeping up with the spells he was learning, and was particularly fascinated by the one that involved her king. So when William told her, she was ecstatic.

“It actually worked? Like actually? What happened, what did he do?”

“Just the shadows,” he said. “He told me something, though.”

“What?” Liselotte gasped. “Seriously? No devil ever speaks when they send the spell out! How did he do that?”

“Don’t know. Just said he was a reflection of Louis.”

“A reflection shouldn’t talk!” She flicked her tail curiously and sat down beside him. “Well, what did he have to say?”

“Said he heard about me, I guess,” William said. “And then asked where I got the earring.” He narrowed his eyes accusingly at her. “I knew he was gonna notice. We’re so dead.”

“Excuse me, maybe you are so dead, but he doesn’t know I’m the one who gave it to you.” She batted her eyelashes. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re just a thief prince! And he’s gonna kill you when he meets you again, for sure.” She paused, taking his hand. “Serious talk, don’t cast that spell again. It might put you in danger.”

“It’s supposed to protect me.”

“The king’s not going to do that for the son of an Overlifer. He hates you and won’t stop now!”

The next night was just the same, with his father staying out. But this time it was de Witt who came in, and William shuffled back cautiously in case he had decided he wanted to do the same thing.

But de Witt only sat at William’s desk. “William, what you did yesterday was very impressive, calling upon Louis XIV like that. And you know something? It scared your father.”

“No, it didn’t. Nothing scares my father, he-” He paused, glaring at him. He wished it wasn’t true, but he’d figured it out long ago. “Nothing scares my father.”

“But this did,” de Witt insisted. “Did you see the way he looked at you? He’s finally scared, William, scared of you. Scared that you hold greater power than even he does.”

“Stop talking that way!” William cried. “There is nothing with greater power than an Overlifer!”

“Hush, William,” de Witt said, holding a finger up to William’s lips. “Please, just listen. Do you remember what I told you about William of the Western Kingdom? The Law of Honorable Succession is still in place!”

There it was, the famous old law that allowed heirs to kill their parents in order to succeed them themselves in whatever office they happened to hold. In Altos Diablos, it no longer served any purpose, but it was technically still legal.

“Are you telling me to kill my father?” he spat. “Are you crazy? Do you know how dangerous it is to even suggest that? That’s treason! I’ll take my place as the ruler when he dies-”

“But what if he doesn’t, William,” de Witt pleaded, taking William’s hand. “He’s on his fourth life and almost ninety, and you can’t even tell. He’s going to live forever if no one challenges him.”

“Remember that you’re trying to get me to kill your boss,” William huffed. “If he found out about this, you would die. And do you know who I am? I could tell him!”

“But you won’t.”

“Maybe I will!” William stood.

“You won’t because I’m right,” de Witt said firmly. “You don’t want to live like this forever. I’m not suggesting you kill him right now— you’re only a boy. But I’m telling you that your father is a monster and he has done nothing but hurt you. I wouldn’t even consider him your father at this point. You have every right to stand up for yourself.”

“So you disagree with his way of raising the future king of the world? That has never been up to you, and you’re not one to speak over it!” William’s tail lashed furiously. “You’re just jealous that your kids aren’t as powerful as I am! And that jealousy makes you a traitor of the worst kind!”

“Listen, William,” de Witt said. “I haven’t done anything yet. But I will tell you that your father’s insane. I realize that now, and I should have never joined him early on in his quest to bring the Devils to power. That was my mistake, but I don’t regret not leaving after you were born because it means I got to watch over you.”

“W-What are you-”

“I taught you to read, but I could never tell if my teaching was actually effective.” De Witt blinked, and William saw his eyes were oddly shiny now. “Because you didn’t speak. But I knew you understood most of what I was telling you, and I prayed to the Allies to protect you because I knew that that man had the potential to break you. Maybe it’s because you’ll one day be an Overlifer, but- but it seems that even then, nothing could have saved you.”

“You prayed to the Allies?” William whispered. “Oh, you are so going to die.”

“I don’t care what he does to me, William, I’m done,” de Witt said. “I’m not going to help him take over Altos Diablos and subject millions of innocent people to a genocide. I’m going to stop him, okay? And I don’t want you to be on the wrong side of this fight.”

William realized he was breathing heavily, his hand flying to his chest. “Y-You are a traitor.”

“And you’re brainwashed!” De Witt took William’s head in his hands, his hands gripping his horns tightly. “You’ve been raised in a cult, William! No child thinks that killing millions of people is okay! No child is raised to think that everyone owes them reverence, and certainly no child knows how to carry out murder! Do you understand, William? All of this is wrong, it’s not normal!”

“You’re wrong!” William was crying now, shaking his head out of de Witt’s grasp.”This is what our destiny has been for thousands of years! I’m not going to run from it now just because you feel bad for me! Maybe no other kid could handle what I’ve been through, but I can! ‘Cause when I grow up I’m gonna have it so much better than all of them! If they die, it’s gonna be because I said so!”

“Your destiny is inherently evil,” de Witt said. “And so is the way that you’ve been raised. You’ve been abused, beaten countless times; you’re scared of your father.”

“No! No, I’m not! All the pain’s gonna be worth it!” William was shrieking at him, and de Witt only stared helplessly down at him. “You just don’t know what it’s like!”

“Is that what you want to do? You want to kill people for the rest of your life just for disagreeing with you?”

“Yes, it’s- it’s what I- they- the old doctrine-” William couldn’t speak anymore, he thought he was going to faint. He stumbled forward, and de Witt caught him, holding him in his arms as he sobbed into his chest. He thought he heard the door open, footsteps enter, but he couldn’t tear himself away from de Witt.

“What is this?” That was his father’s low voice. “When I said you were excused, de Witt, I certainly did not mean you could come into my son’s room.”

“What have you been doing to him?!” That was his mother.

“Nothing like what you are suggesting, madam,” de Witt said. “I was only-”

“I- I had a bad dream,” William spoke up, finally looking over at his mother but refusing to let go of de Witt’s coat. “I called for you but- but none of you came. He did.”

His mother leaned back, her tail flicking from side to side, and her husband snarled, “Out, both of you. I want to speak to him alone.”

De Witt paused, and William looked up at him desperately. Don’t leave me alone with him!

But de Witt only smiled sadly down at him and pried his fingers off his coat. “Very well,” he said as he walked towards the door, meeting William’s gaze for a moment. “Good night, sirs.”

No, no, no. William’s eyes widened. Don’t go.

In turn, de Witt’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. He turned and left, and William’s mother followed him out without a single protest, much to William’s disappointment. Maybe it would have been more acceptable to beg her to stay instead.

His father slammed the door behind him, locking the door with the narrow tip of his tail. “I thought you knew better than letting someone who isn’t me into your room.”

William swallowed. His tears hadn’t stopped; he knew what he was afraid of.

“Say something,” his father growled. “Anything, William. I’m tired of your silence.”

“I-I’m sorry-”

He didn’t have any time to finish that before his father pinned him back against his bed, and William attempted to cry out before his face was painfully forced down on its side, his father’s thumb in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father’s long tail hanging off the bed.

You’re too big to be here—!

His head was only freed when his father lifted it up to kiss his son’s lips, forcing his tongue in like he forced himself in a few seconds later. William fell back with a gasp, and his father kissed him again and again and again.

De Witt, come back in. Please, just open that door.

When that didn’t work, he turned to praying to the Allies, then to the devils when he remembered that apparently those hadn’t helped him either.

I’m sorry I want to kill you. Just make him stop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Louis le Grand, délivre-nous du tout mal—!

It didn’t work, of course. Nothing worked, not until his father was satisfied. By then William was in agony like he’d never felt before, like all his organs were burning up inside of him. His lungs, too; every breath he tried to take seemed to shatter in his throat.

His father’s breath was shallow as well, warm against his cheek. “William,” he whispered. “You’re so much like your mother.”

William shut his eyes. He swore he was about to vomit. His body shook as he felt his father’s hands run over his chest.

He didn’t leave this time. He stayed, curling his hairless tail around his son and pressing his lips to William’s horns. William didn’t move, only focused on letting his breath back in. There was something dripping out from in between his legs, staining the fur on his tail. He wanted so badly to get up and wipe it off, maybe get his inhaler too, but his father held him tight.

It wasn’t until much later that night, after he’d fallen into a very unstable sleep where even Liselotte couldn’t reach him, that his father shook him awake. “William. Wake up.”

William blinked up at him. “H-Huh?” He felt all nauseous and sticky, and his head ached to the point that even looking outside at the moonlight was too much for him. He closed his eyes again.

“Get up. It smells in here.” His father nudged him to his feet, hastily dressing himself. He turned on the light, and William cried out, his tail flying to his face.

“Stop being dramatic.” His father twisted the tip of his tail, pulling it away from his face. He gripped William’s wrist tightly and led him out of the room, down to the bathroom where he ordered him to sit on the toilet as he set up a bath for him. William covered his eyes, trembling in the cold air. The only thing he wore was the earring Liselotte had given him.

“Come here, William.”

William stood, walking towards his father. The cool eyes looked him up and down as he nervously stepped inside the water.

“It’ll get better with time,” his father said. “It’s like everything else that you have learned.”

William nodded. He couldn’t form words even if he tried; even in his head they seemed to melt away as soon as he figured out what it was that he wanted to say. But in the back of his mind, he knew that there was dread because what his father said meant that this wouldn’t be the last time.

There wasn’t much spell training after that, at least not for William. Hans now went to these lessons himself, but luckily for William, he’d copy down the spells he’d learnt that day and would show them to William. Hans said they were hard to master, but William figured them out in no time, much to Hans’ admiration.

“You truly are destined to rule us all,” he breathed out. “Is that why your father doesn’t bring you around to train with me anymore? ‘Cause you’re better than him?”

“You really think that?” William asked, his heart twisting with both fear and hope.

“I- I, um-”

“I want to believe that I am better,” he went on, taking Hans’ hand. “But nobody else thinks that way except for de Witt. But I...don’t like him. I like you, Hans, and if you think I’m better I won’t tell.”

“Wait a second, did your daddy put you up to test me?” Hans cocked his head to the side.

“No! And even if he told me to, I wouldn’t do it.” William shook his head firmly. “That’s deceit and it sets you up to fail. I’m being for real here. Please tell me I’m better than him.” He winced; it sounded like a plea to him.

“You...you are,” Hans said. “Way better.”

“Thanks.” William curled his tail around Hans’ body. Now that he thought about it, why did his father care so much about how his son treated his subjects? He may have been an Overlifer, but William was the one destined to succeed him. Did he not deserve the same respect?

I can do whatever I like! He can’t tell me what to do when the oldest law there is says I can kill him!

I can kill him.

He often found himself staring at that old painting in his book that de Witt had showed him years ago now. He saw the hatred in the eyes of the first devil and hated her too.

Despite Hans’ reassuring words, he was as desperate as ever for the approval of his Overlifer, which was a stupid and impossible thing to want when William was right there. He always made sure to tell Hans how good he was doing, how much better he was getting at striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. And yet it was his father he looked to for praise, and his father was the one looking at him in a way William didn’t like.

You two keep away from each other!

“There will be times when you don’t have weapons on you,” he told them one night, throwing their hostage to the ground right in front of them. “Between the two of you, I don’t think you even need them.”

“Wait,” their prisoner cried, shuffling back with her tail held up protectively in front of her. “I- I don’t have any information, sir, you don’t-”

“If I wanted information from you then I would have asked,” he said, stepping forward. “I just want to see the blood of an Easterner tonight.”

“M-My father is descended from the Western Kingdom—”

“Vile!” He slammed his foot down on her neck, and she yelped, reaching out towards William, who instinctively reached for his knife. But his father glared at him, and William drew his hand away.

“We can turn this into another lesson,” his father said, landing a hard kick on his prisoner’s side. “The future of the Western Kingdom cannot rely on traitors that breed with their enemies. They rear worthless children!” He brought her up by her horn, just as she lunged for his other hand with her teeth. But he met it with a forceful punch to her jaw that sent her stumbling back, her horn still trapped in his fist.

“Yes, kill the dirty Easterner, sir!” Hans cheered.

Dirty Easterner? William tilted his head to the side. Of course, the Eastern Kingdom was their enemy, but there was something she said, something about her tail so much like that of William’s father...

They watched him corner her, they watched him drive her head into the wall and pummel her stomach mercilessly until blood poured from her lips, until she was crying and begging him to stop, just as the great Overlifer snapped her horn off with nothing but his divine strength.

“One day you will be able to do this, William,” he said, pointing the horn at his son. “But for now, strangling makes a good way to go.” He squeezed her fingers around her neck, and William swallowed. He’d seen this inflicted too often on his mother, and it remained his least favorite way to kill somebody.

“If you’re low on time, of course, there’s this old way my mother taught me, but it takes a bit of strength...” He took the remaining horn on her head, pausing before jerking it sharply to the side. There was a loud snap! heard, and William saw Hans shudder.

“The point is, boys,” William’s father went on, wiping the blood from his hostage’s face, “you don’t need a weapon to show the world exactly what comes of traitorous matches.” He held his bloodied fingers up to them. “Behold, the soiled blood of an Eastern-Western hybrid.”

Eastern-Western hybrid...that’s never been wrong, has it? De Witt had never taught William that it was.

He flicked his tail forward. “I thought Mama was a descendant of the Eastern Kingdom. Aren’t we the same?” He lifted a finger to the tip of his tail. “This isn’t a Western Kingdom tail.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“Wait, are you serious?” Hans looked William up and down. “You’ve got Eastern blood in you?”

“M-Mama’s line has never been broken, right?” William stepped back. “I thought those unions were fine. Some of the old Overlifers said it is because they, um, still bring about more Western or Northern blood. And I thought you were okay with it too, I mean, specifically Eastern and Western mixing because, um, of Mama...” He shrunk back as his father advanced.

“You were a mistake, William,” he spat. “You think I would have chosen an Easterner to marry if I had known you’d turn out to be a retarded, wheezing little runt? I chose your mother because I can choose, as an Overlifer. And love is-” He paused. “I’m greater than the doctrines. I can change them however I like.”

“So what’s the new one?”

“The new one is shut the fuck up!” He slapped William hard across the face, enough to make him stumble to the side but not fall. He bit his tongue, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor ahead of him where his head had turned.

“Further proof that you don’t need a weapon to silence your enemies, only words will do,” he heard his father say to Hans. There were footsteps, and William hardly had time to look up before his father’s tail came up to his chin. “As for you, William, you remember what I’ve told you here. An Overlifer cannot break rules and he cannot follow them, because he creates them.”

“Yes, sir,” William said faintly.

His father scowled. “You disappoint me.”

It wasn’t anything remarkable to William; that was all he had ever seemed to do to his father. He wasn’t sorry about that, though. He was just sorry that he only ever seemed to disappoint himself as well.

What was worse was that it was Hans who his father praised instead, his eyes like a Southern snake’s as he hissed out every prideful word. William didn’t even know why he did it; he didn’t look like he liked speaking to Hans. But he figured it out during another training session, after Hans finally managed to cast a particularly hard spell.

“Very good, Hans,” de Witt said. “You’ll make a natural Ally.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hans said absently. His eyes were all on William’s father, who was staring at him, leering, even, from the shadows. That was why William hated training anywhere that wasn’t their home— everywhere else seemed too dark, but his father loved it.

“Yes, you are very skilled, Hans,” he said slowly. “I think you deserve a gift from your Overlifer, don’t you think? The best thing I can offer you.”

“Oh? What is that, sir?” Hans cocked his head to the side.

What’s he getting at? William narrowed his eyes.

“Come here, Hans,” his father said. “Do you want to kiss your great leader?”

“Oh!” Hans nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course! It’d be an honor!” He ran over to his Overlifer, who bowed his head to kiss Hans on the lips. Hans was rather awkward with it, William noted distastefully; everyone knew you had to close your eyes during it, and you had to at least lean into it.

Nonetheless, Hans was happy, his eyes shining as he bounced back. William felt sick, and he heard de Witt murmuring in shock behind him.

“That’s- that is-”

“An honor,” William said bitterly. “An honor to kiss the greatest Overlifer.”

And what honor he received that night, indeed. William didn’t admit it out loud, but he almost preferred this than seeing Hans kiss his father. As long as no one knew and no one saw them. He didn’t know how Hans had even liked it; when his father kissed him again, he wanted to rip the Overlifer’s tongue out with his teeth.

The next morning William got up just to vomit, as he had been for a few days now, and then he went back to bed. He wished Liselotte stayed asleep for longer; he always wanted to see her one last time before the day began. With his father right there, their meetings were getting shorter and shorter.

“William.” De Witt had come to visit that day, mostly because his leader had ordered him to, along with a few others. But he came to William’s room and knocked softly on the door, and William’s heart jumped. He closed the book he was reading reluctantly.

“De Witt,” he said. “Come in.”

“William, I-” De Witt flung open the door, and William looked up at him with wide eyes. “Your- your mother tells me that you’ve been waking up sick these past few days. And you look so tired. I’ve had enough of seeing you like this, William, and after what happened yesterday with Hans I feel as if I have to ask you something.”

Oh, no. William swallowed.

“You know what kissing is,” de Witt said slowly. “And you know the connotations, right? You know what it means? You’ve read the devil legends.”

William nodded.

“Does your father kiss you?” De Witt bent down beside him, and William fixed the wall with a hard stare. He bit his tongue and then began to cry, nodding rapidly and leaping into de Witt’s arms. He knew he was in trouble now; his father had told him not to tell anyone!

What have I done?! He buried his head in de Witt’s shoulder, muffling his sobs and taking deep breaths until they began to run from him.

“Shh, William, it’s okay,” de Witt whispered. His voice was oddly shaky, which scared William even more. “It’s okay, I’m going to find a way out for you. You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry I didn’t know.” He rubbed at William’s back.

William’s tail quivered, and he slowly sank to his knees, so that de Witt had to sit on the floor beside him. “Don’t- don’t tell anybody.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“If you do, I’ll kill you—!” William leaned back and glared at him.

“I know,” de Witt said. “I don’t doubt it.” He took William’s hands. “Listen, William, if you want to leave the Devils of Orange-Nassau, if you want to live a normal life, then you should start now. Whatever happens, I will be beside you, and I’ll help you out of here. But we have to do it before you’re older, so that everyone knows you weren’t complicit in this..”

“No.” William shook his head, standing up again. “N-No, I can’t go. I don’t want a normal life.”

“You cannot prefer this,” de Witt said, exasperated. “William, you deserve to be happy.”

“I’m happy,” William protested. He was starting to cry again, though, and he stumbled back, curling up in the corner of the room. His bed no longer felt welcoming enough to hold him in moments like these. “I am happy!”

De Witt started to walk towards him, but William glared at him. “Go away!”

“You-”

“That’s an order!” William cried, and de Witt winced. “You’re trying to make me leave!” He fell back, coughing hard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw de Witt hesitate, reaching out briefly before turning away with a twitch of his tail and leaving him alone.

William bit down on the urge to call out for him again. He covered his face with his hands, trying to slow his breathing, and he heard footsteps come from his doorway. Those weren’t de Witt’s.

“William.” It was his mother’s gentle, but firm voice. “What’s going on? De Witt said you were upset. Did he upset you?” He felt her presence over him, and she took his hands from his face. “You can tell me the truth, William.”

“Can I?” William asked. When he looked into her eyes, he felt the sting of them more than when he met his father’s gaze. He felt at times that she was no longer proud of the little prince she had raised— which was just great, neither of his parents cared for any of his gifts and the power he would hold as an Overlifer. Why was he here at all, then?

“Why don’t you love me anymore, Mama?” he whispered.

“What?” She leaned back in shock. “Of course I love you, William.”

“You leave me alone with my lord,” William went on. His chest was still heaving, and he rested a hand on it, trying to slow it down. “Y-You don’t come back. You’re never there when I cast a spell or kill someone. What am I doing wrong?”

“William...” Her eyes narrowed in a way that made him shudder. “You can’t seriously think I can be proud of raising a murderer and extremist.”

“I-It’s not extreme,” William said, looking away. “It’s the truth that nobody knows.”

His mother sighed. “Once I thought that way, too, William. I thought we were the heroes. That’s part of why I- I suppose you could say that I fell in love with your father.” She shook her head, glancing down. “But as time went on I saw it for what it really was.”

“And what is that?”

“I can’t say, can I? Or you’ll run off and tell him.” She stood up again, glaring down at him. “You should have never been born, William. I love what you could have been, but he ruined you. He ruined all of us, and now he will destroy the world!” She spat the last sentence out frantically. “I love you, William. But only because as a mother, that is what I should feel about you. Otherwise I would have drowned you before you could even take your first breath.” Without another word, she whisked out of the room, and William could only stare.

That night was one of the only times William told Liselotte of what happened in his world.

“My mother said she wishes she would have killed me.”

Liselotte didn’t seem very surprised. “Don’t you think maybe all mothers want to do that at some point?”

“I guess,” William said. “But they should keep it to themselves.”

“Yeah.” Liselotte shrugged like she didn’t care, but her tail snapped its jaws and shook with displeasure as if it had tasted something foul.

And maybe he would have gone on like that, with the knowledge that he’d just lost his mother too. He found it hard to blame her, though; having seen the suffering she had been subjected to because of one Overlifer, why wouldn’t she be suspicious of the next one that came along?

Still, it stung, and he no longer found solace in the presence of neither de Witt nor his mother. He was afraid, though not of them. He didn’t know what scared him so much. All he knew was that he wanted it to go back to the way things were— when the only reason that he was afraid was his father.

It was Hans who comforted him in the waking world, Hans who put all his faith in him now. And so it was Hans who he told about what his father had been doing to him. Then he asked if his father did the same.

“No,” Hans said simply. He looked more confused than anything. “He only kisses Mama. Not us, never like that. It sounds gross.”

“It is,” William said. “Every time. ‘Cause it hurts.”

“The kissing?”

“And...the other things,” William said. He took a breath. “It hurts really weird. Like, not the worst pain you’ve ever felt. But the strangest. You feel it inside of you for days after he’s carved you up. It’s like he’s looking for something, but I can’t give it to him.”

“Why don’t you ask?” Hans said.

“He doesn’t like it when I talk.” William looked down. He didn’t feel the same anguish he had felt upon telling de Witt; no, this was a strange, detached anger. “Only wants me to say what he likes to hear.” He looked up again, blinking away tears. “Don’t ever kiss him again, okay?”

“I find it a great honor,” Hans said, but William shook his head fiercely.

“It isn’t,” he said. “Don’t ever say that. It scares me and it hurts and it’s wrong. Didn’t it feel wrong to you?”

“Maybe a little? But it can’t be-”

“Ugh, Hans, I thought you’d get it!” William cried out suddenly. “I’m not some spirit you can just kidnap and do this to, I’m his heir! I’m gonna be an Overlifer! And I hate it, okay?”

“I’ve just read some things in the devil legends, like the ones with doomed lovers and conquered enemies and all that.” Hans shrugged. “They make it sound nice. I’m sorry that it’s so rough and mean.”

William didn’t know why Hans was so surprised. To him, the legends always sounded cruel, downright disgusting sometimes, especially when he read about a devil lord being conquered by another. He couldn’t read them without wondering if he was just a beaten enemy under his father, and yet of equal standing.

Maybe I am supposed to like it. Maybe that was what he had been getting wrong. If the devils could do it, surely he could do it better.

So when his father came into his room again, William bit back any protest and decided not to waste any time with their fake little greetings when they pretended that they cared about each other. Instead, before his father could say a word, he pushed him to the bed insistently, much to his father’s amusement, and was the one to crawl over him instead of the other way around.

“Excited already?” His father laughed, which was such a rare sound that it made William freeze. “Do you at last find me impressive?”

William agreed, though he really didn’t know what that meant. To shut his father up he kissed him on the lips. It didn’t feel any better than he thought it might have. As soon as he felt the tongue slip through he recoiled as if he had kissed fire, but his father pulled him back down by the horns.

If anything, he realized he had made a terrible mistake, that this was worse. There was still pain, awful pain and the feeling of the cold hands on his waist, but this time there was the knowledge too that he had asked for this. And he didn’t know why he would ever want it.

Whenever he thought his father would finally leave, he would have something else for William to do. It was the longest he had ever stayed here, and at some point William realized he was crying, once more held under his father like always. There was a frenzy behind his father’s movements, something that could not allow him to stop no matter what William said or did. And so it hurt like it never had before, like he was being torn apart over and over again, the fire in him rising to his lungs until he was choking on every gasp.

He was sure that this was when he would die. He thought he was going to. He closed his eyes and under his breath prayed to the devils like the first time, begged them to set him free. If he was going to die here, then kill him now, because he could not bear it any longer.

And when he was met with silence, he screamed as loud as he could, to reach their divine ears in their realm.

They answered his call, it seemed, but not by killing him. His father stopped his movements briefly, slapping William and hissing at him to shut up. William whimpered and tried to push him away.

“What? What is it, William?” His father took his hands and easily pinned them to the bed. “You want me to leave?”

William couldn’t say anything. He was still gasping for air. His father raised an eyebrow and leaned in to kiss him again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “And neither are you.”

“William.” A breathless voice came suddenly from behind them both, and William felt his heart stop. That was his mother’s voice. He had no idea which William she was talking to.

His father didn’t even turn around. He simply lifted his head and narrowed his eyes on the wall. “Mary.”

William could see her clearly if he lifted his head, standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide, and her legs shook as if she wanted to turn and run. But she stayed.

“What- what is this?” she asked.

“You want to come in and help, Mary?” Her husband at last looked back at her, and she went pale.

“N-No,” she whispered. “Never.”

“Are you going to stay?”

“I-” She paused, looking down and shaking her head miserably. “No.”

“Then get out. If you tell anyone about this, it’ll be a bullet in you next.” He said it so firmly that William knew he was not lying at all. “By the way, Mary, our son is better at this than you are.” She began to step away, and William opened his mouth to tell her to please stay. To protect him. But he knew in his heart that there was nothing she could have done, nothing anybody could do. So he watched her leave him alone with her husband, his father.

#give me a break i haven't read this in like two weeks so some stuff might be ~scuffed~#i did revise and edit as soon as i was done #this chapter can best be described as ~kids in places where there should not be kids~#i kinda didn't want to add the disclaimer but. just in case #bc theres always crazy ppl out there #six lives won't make you happy #eugh this was hard to write. but fun nonetheless !!

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