#kotw

[mofffun]

Concept artist Tajima Hideki assumed Chikyuu's diameter to be roughly 1/10 of our Earth's. For scale, Honshu will take up almost 1/3 of Chikyuu's surface.

Honshu length: 1300km; Chikyuu d/c: 1725.6km/4007km

…so that made me feel slightly better about the international/continental travel times… (this would open up another can of worms about density/gravity but i digress)

He created the Chikyuu map from a draft by Kamihori and adjusted the seas and balance on a planetary model.

[murasaki-cha]

I'm just a girl, sitting down in class, eating a muffin during break time, staring at my phone which definitely is not showing the scene in the book where the witch and the demon prince who are enemies finally give in to their desires and start getting it in the hot spring, definitely not reading that with a straight face

[odessa-the-anathema]

The goddess of death was trapped by gold, the light of the sun that gave life, that blinded her to the calls of the grave.

The goddess of fury was trapped by silver, the cool waters to drown her flames, that ordered her to be calm when she yearned for her ire.

The goddess of death returned by turning ice cold, her heart ripped out, no warmth in her eyes.

The goddess of fury returned by engulfing herself in the flames of passion, of anger, of love, her irises set ablaze again.

(Kerri you're a queen for setting up this dichotomy I didn't even notice until today)

[nicstylus]

Lines!

[thelov3lybookworm]

ever since i finished kotw, ive been desperately wating for pride's book. not that ive finished tpt and know the next book coming out is greed's, i know pride's would be last and its all i can do not to sob 🥲

[litnerdwrites]

Headcanons- Euphemia

A/N: I'm working on the next chapter of Clandestine affairs, but I also have other stuff going on, like exams coming up, so it's slow going. Until then, have some Demon family headcannons, mostly centred around Euphemia, and her relationship with her uncles. If any of you have any prompts you want me to write some short headcannons for, send them in, and I'll answer them as between fic updates. They could be about either Euphemia, the demon princes, Emilia, etc.

TW: None. Just fluff.

🎀 Sloth pretends he doesn't like looking after Euphemia, but secretly adores curling up in a cozy arm chair and reading her fairy tales.

🎀 Euphemia, as we find out in 'Want it' is like a magpie. As a child, she got easily distracted by anything that glittered, and tried stealing her father and uncles' house daggers, and succeeded, on more than one occasion.

🎀 Euphemia doesn't like the crescent Shallows. At all. Emilia tried taking her there to teach her to swim, since it felt like the safest place to do so, only for her begin wailing. It took hours to console her, and she wouldn't sleep in her own room for weeks. She also clung closer to Wrath during this time, scared Emilia would take her back to the shallows. This still hurts Emilia a lot.

🎀 She painted Camilla a picture of her and Envy as a present, and while it was about what you'd expect from a children's drawing, Camillia got teary at the sight of it. She hung it in their chambers and refused to let anyone touch it, even insisting on cleaning the frame herself.

🎀 Adriana is secretly very sweet to Euphemia, when nobody else is around. She even sneaks her a treat or two from the desert table before dinner, when nobody else is looking. It makes Gluttony feel betrayed.

🎀 Euphemia wasn't allowed to visit House Lust, Gluttony, or Greed for a long time, for obvious reasons. As she grew, and as his brothers pestered him, Wrath relented and allowed Eupheima to visit House Gluttony, and Greed, on the condition that anything inappropriate for her age was to be out of sight during her visit. Lust complains about being the odd one out.

🎀 Eupheima's a daddy's girl. Through and through.

🎀 People say that The Devil, and seven demon princes rule the underworld from their houses of debauchery and sin, but those who reside in the Seven Circles know better. The young Princess of House Wrath is the one who has the real power.

🎀 Euphie was first given her nickname by Sloth when she first called him by name. Her first word was 'Mama' but her second was 'Lo'. Wrath wasn't pleased by this.

🎀 She calls Anir her Uncle, and he secretly takes her into town sometimes. He gets her anything her little heart desires, even if it drives Emilia up a wall to see her drowning in sweets before dinner.

🎀 The quality Euphemia loves most about herself is her hair. She loves having it styled in all different ways, with ornaments, tiaras, cuffs, and clips.

🎀 Euphemia read one of her mother's romance novels once, and the character in it had a braided coronet. It's since become her own favourite hairstyle.

🎀 Euphemia came across a Church Grim by the gates of Hell while visiting The Sin Corridor with her Celestia, and decided to keep it. She named her Frost.

🎀 Speaking of Frost, there are three thrones in House Wrath's Throne room, and one large, lush pillow from House Lust, beside the smallest throne. The perfect size for a wolf to lay on no matter how much she grows.

🎀 Frost also has her own box of ribbons and collars, which she loves. Frost is as much of a girly girl as Euphiemia is, only she turn up her nose at the thought of getting dirty, while Euphie, despite loving frills, ribbons and dressing up, has an adventurer's heart, and often comes back from playing outside scraped and covered in dirt.

🎀 Sometimes Euphemia worries that Vittoria doesn't like her, since she doesn't allow her to visit House Vengeance, even if Emilia comes with her.

🎀 Euphie believes that even though the don't always say it, each of her Uncles loves her in different ways. They each give her something irreplaceable. 🎀 Lust is that one Uncle who was so excited to finally have a nibling, even though he had no clue how to even hold her. Had Euphemia not been in his arms at the time, Wrath would've tackled him for how he held his newborn daughter.

🎀 Once, Euphemia tried to use her mother's make up, only to end up scaring the life out of Anir, who even unsheathed his knife before realising it was the princess. Emilia was more shocked to see that the state of her vanity.

🎀 She was even more shocked to see the things Euphemia had written on the mirror with make up. She used rouge to write out 'I am beautiful' and some kohl to add 'I am powerful'. Apparently Pride taught her to do this, to help with self confidence. Emilia had Wrath deliver Pride some Cannolis immediately.

🎀 Gluttony happily spent ages just pinching her cheeks and cooing over her when Wrath brought her to visit. His excuse was that it was his sin, and that he couldn't help but want to indulge more in her cuteness.

I'll leave it at this for now, but if you want any more, let me know. These are fun to come up with. Also, feel free to let me know if you have any headcannons for Euphie, or even the princes as uncles.

[nymph-of-water]

I FOUND THIS FANART OF VITTORIA AND I'M SCREAMING SHE'S SO PRETTY

[princeofsinweek]

Hello! I am so excited to be hosting a Prince of Sin Week this year. The goal is to get more content on the Princes and to celebrate the next book coming out in October! @afandomangel is running the account but I want to shout out @litnerdwrites and @cadiawrites for all of the support and great ideas. The encouragement to have this be a larger event has really helped!

Shoutout to @litnerdwrites for this idea to have both prompts for each day and a prince for each day that creators can choose from! We need your help for the second option of each day. For each day creators can choose to either write for that Prince and/or use the prompt. i.e. for 07/08 you can choose to create something for Pride, use the prompt to make something for Pride, or chose a different Prince and use the prompt for 07/08.

07/07 Day 1: Prince Wrath/All Is Fair In Love and War

Featuring Prince Wrath’s sin, Wrath is the demon general of war and is a fierce warrior and strategist. "Acta non verba," meaning "actions, not words," is Wrath’s motto, and he lives by it. And don’t forget that “anger is his own personal aphrodisiac.” 😏

07/08 Day 2: Prince Pride/ Reflections and Ego

“I don’t simply look pretty. I am dashing.” Day two will feature Prince Pride. He loves to feed his ego and leads many to believe he is debauched, a drunkard, and a rake, but it is all an act. Though he does play the role so well that sometimes it doesn’t look like an act, leading to some of his struggles with those he cares for.In Emelia’s description of his throne room, it is described to have ornate mirrors everywhere to allow him to gaze upon himself whenever he likes. And as we learned from one of the other princes (Envy) the mirrors may not always be used just for his own reflection.😉

07/09 Day 3: Prince Envy/Games and RIddles

Prince Envy, oh Prince Envy, our prince loves a good game just as much as he loves to invoke his namesake sin in others. He often plays games with others, some dangerous enough to threaten his court. He is very cunning and ruthless, and he is not above trickery.  He is quite envious (hence his sin) and is a tad possessive as we saw in Throne of the Fallen with Camilla. 

07/10 Day 4: Prince Greed/All Bets Are Off

Prince Greed, like his brothers, enjoys games and tricks. He rules over his own gaming hell and enjoys placing wagers. He is also very calculating and ruthless, and Emelia describes him during an encounter as having a possessive hunger in his gaze. With his namesake sin, he is very greedy and can never get enough of things, power being one of them.  

07/11 Day 5: Prince Gluttony/Champagne Fountains

“He was a rake through and through. And he seemed adored for it.” Prince Gluttony overindulges in the things he enjoys: food, alcohol, debauchery, and hosting jaw-dropping parties to shock others, including the Reporter (Can’t wait for Throne of Secrets).  Gluttony is very suggestive and is often occupied in the selfish matters of his sin. Someone mentioned in the suggestions for prompts that he spends a lot of time with his partner. Our prince most likely does overindulge when it comes to his partner, time, gifts, food, attention, etc. 

07/12 Day 6: Prince Sloth/For Research

Like Gluttony, Sloth is often preoccupied in selfish matters of his sin. But unlike his brothers, he prefers to lounge around and read rather than engage in debauchery. He wears a mask of being a bashful, lazy book lover but he is also a very lethal warrior wielding a powerful weapon of his mind. He is very calculating and does not miss a detail. He takes his time studying until he has formulated a conclusion and course of action.  Sloth is very guarded and wary of others and often investigates others wanting to know everything about them from birth to the present day, including all potential lovers.  As for relationships Sloth has only had a few serious relationships and none have ended with tragedy or heartbreak. Sloth tries to avoid drama. 

07/13 Day 7: Prince Lust/Lover

The final day will feature Prince Lust’s sin. The Prince of Lust is known for toying with a person’s happiness and their carnal urges. He is quite the gossip and is very cunning. The prince is also a secret romantic despite his love for debauchery. Him being needy and romantic were a common suggestion for the prompts for Prince Lust.

[stargirlbryce]

Every book I read in 2023: Kingdom Of The Feared by Kerri Maniscalco

"I always knew you. And always will. Your soul calls to mine. It’s a feeling of coming home. Of peace. No magic can duplicate it."

[lilitherie]

"Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

The stars incline us, they do not bind us."

I was in the mood to draw this couple and give them some love because I have finished the last book some weeks ago and omg 🖤, I am obsessed! Also, I am so happy with the result and with my improving ☺️

🐍 characters belong to Kerri Maniscalco

💜 emilia pose ref by Rachel Bradley

🐍 art by me. credits if you repost and do not crop the watermark. please do not repost on x / twitter.

[murasaki-cha]

Emilia: *has horny thoughts about Wrath*

Emilia: Damn this cursed land making me feel like this

Hell: I'm just out here housing demons and others and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now

[odessa-the-anathema]

VERY MILD THRONE OF SECRETS SPOILERS THIS POST! (I'm almost done but I'm trying to hold off)

Okay y'all, I know I usually engage in fandom in a more serious and analytical manner. And I complain to myself about other people not engaging with this universe in an analytical enough way (even though there's nothing wrong with that, I'm just peculiar about things!) But I'm gonna let myself be silly for a second.

Silly KOTW and Prince of Sin thoughts!

Go listen to "Lavish" by Twenty One Pilots and think of the Envy, Lust, Gluttony trio. (I love them so much) Really listen to the lyrics towards the end for a little classic demon prince spice lol. It kinda works for all of them but ESPECIALLY that trio. (If someone made an animatic of this, you might very well have my hand in marriage)

I wanna see the demon princes + companions play Among Us. It would be really, really funny.

I also realized that out of all the card games, the Demon Princes can't play Bullshit. Except for Envy. But he can't even because that would reveal that he can lie.

I highly doubt it judging from what Sloth's reading tastes seem to be, but I like to imagine him and Emilia fangirling about their fav romance novels.

I can see Vittoria flirting with Val and Val being verrrry unnerved by it.

Head Canon: Val and Blade are going to hook up at some point. The forbidden nature of it is going to fuel Val's sin and Blade just isn't going to be able to help himself (Edit: I was HORRENDOUSLY wrong, Val indulging with the witch instead. YAY MORE LESBIANS!!! 🔥)

Another head Canon: Gluttony has used silk to make a little baby harness thing to carry dragon hatchlings in on his front. And been totally nonchalant about it. He's a prince, he's got things to do, also needs to keep an eye on the little ones.

I wanna see the demon princes play Jenga. Again, hilarity would ensue.

More on the way I assure you!

[nicstylus]

The Darquesse Trilogy (and Phase One as a whole) is done!

[vraimothra]

my favorite character is The Sin Corridor & dont tell me "that doesnt count" bc that bitch is sentient & hilarious

[litnerdwrites]

I was out all day yesterday, so I couldn't upload it then, so here it is now. Day seven, extended version. I do have plans to make this a series, and once I have all three series planned out, I'll be sure to ask who's you want to see first. Be sure to look out for more Euphemia content until then too. On a side note, did anyone see Kerri's stories, where she was scrolling through the first few pages of Throne of Secrets. We got a glimpse at the first couple of pages and honestly, ever teaser just makes me more impatient to read it.

This is probably my favourite piece, and the longest that I've written. Even though it's extended, there's so much more that I wanted to add, that I'll probably put into the series. I really loved writing Lust, and trying to balance gentle, romantic side with his lustful, jovial one. Although, I don't think there was much room for the latter here but I'll be sure to give it ago in the series. What are some of your favourite Lust moments from the trilogy? Let me know! @princeofsinweek

Day 7: Lust/Lover

Speak Now - Lust x OC

WC:4,077

TW: Almost forced marriage, abuse (father striking his daughter, plus forced fiancé hurting bride), mentioned death of a parent, mentioned canon typical violence.

Amara was stone faced as her ladies maids tittered around her, tugging, tucking and tidying up her hair in preparation. They had tried to make smalltalk at first, but when she didn’t respond, they quickly gave up. 

She wanted to grimace at her reflection. She wanted to tear the pins and veil from her hair. She wanted to smear the makeup from her face, even if she had to break a few nails and tear her skin to do it. She wanted to rip the silk and lace from her body, and throw it to the pigs. 

She wanted to run.

But she couldn’t. 

All because she had nowhere to go. Noone to turn to. 

The gown itself was classic. An a-line gown made of silk, with a sweetheart neckline, and thick lace sleeves. The ivy patterned lace reached right to where her neck met her head, and somehow managed to irritate her skin. Yet, despite her growing discomfort, she remained like a statue, even as the maids began wondering if she even lived or not. 

“You will wed the Prince, and you will finally make yourself useful to me,” 

Even as it echoed in her own mind, her father’s voice remained harsh, arguably colder than even the northernmost flaming tombs. It became his usual attitude after her mother had been killed by who Amara now knew was the Goddess of Death in an act of vengeance. The father she knew and loved lasted until the funeral, but once people began moving on with their lives, things began to change. Gone was the gentle, doting father she knew, and in his place was a shell of a man who only sought power and fame. 

Even at the expense of his own daughter.

Part of her, thinking back to that night, when she felt as though things had turned around for her. 

Growing sick of the scent of alcohol and sex in her home, she’d wandered to one of the many cliff sides in Palermo. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, eyes locked on the crashing waves below, but not really looking at them. 

It would be so easy to just… Push herself forward, and let herself fall. So, so easy. 

But, before she could properly contemplate the idea, he was pulled from her  thoughts by the distant sound of music. As if in a trance, she made her way down the side of the cliff wondering if it was the cold, or anticipation that had her limbs trembling. What she hadn’t expected was to find a bonfire, and a single male dancing on the beach. 

The sculptures that nobles commissioned from renowned artisans to line their overly elaborate halls must’ve been inspired by the man. His skin was gold, and hair dark. His charcoal eyes seemed to glow under the light of a flaming circlet that wrapped around his head. Yet, somehow, she got the impression that if she met his gaze, she’d feel like she was trapped in a darkened abys

se of desire. 

“If you like what you see, then why not join?” The male’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. 

He had been across the beach a moment ago, but now he stood right in front of her. Too close. His face was too close, as he bent at the waist to examine her. It was only then, when she felt that flaming circlet flicker against her forehead that she realized how… Wrong- no. Not wrong. How… Strange it was. 

“Doesn’t your head get hot during the summer?” she had blurted out, before slapping a hand over her mouth. 

The man’s eyes widened, and he had jerked back, clearly surprised by the question. He observed her, eyes narrowing somewhat, before leaning back, letting his lips spread into a grin.

“There are no summers where I’m from,” he shrugged. She blinked up at him, hands still pressed to her mouth, but eyes wide and curious. He seemed so jovial when she first saw him, then he looked like he could see all of her secrets laid bare, before going back to seeming like he was having fun. “Should you not be more concerned by this?” he cocked his head to the side.

Amara dropped her hands from her mouth, and blinked up at him again. After a few moments under his expectant gaze, she raised a brow, and rocked on the soles of her feet, answering with a shrug. “No. My mother was a witch,” 

Lust’s brows shot up. 

“You seem remarkably comfortable sharing that, when all it would take is the wrong person overhearing for you to be condemned,” 

“You aren’t exactly human either, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she pointed out, “I know enough about malvagi to know that if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Clearly, you don’t. Not as of yet, anyway,” 

Lust’s brows shot up again, as he circled her. 

Amara held her chin high, eyes tracking the male. 

Silence stretched on for what felt like hours, though was likely only minutes.

“Do you know who I am, Stella Stregah?” he finally asked.

“A Malvagi,” she stated, matter of factly, before looking behind him, “Why are you having a bonfire all alone?” 

“Would you care to join me?” was the only response he gave.

“Will you attempt to use your powers on me?” she asked.

“Dance with me, and perhaps you’ll find out,” the demon bowed at the waist, offering his hand to her. 

Amara eyed him skeptically, but shrugged and accepted.

Music filled her ear again, though there was no discernible source, as the demon guided her through the steps. Amara let him. She followed his lead, though never once made eye contact with the demon. 

“Which one are you?” 

“I am the Prince of Lust,” 

She narrowed her eyes on him. Taking a moment to examine herself, and thinking over their interactions thus far. It didn’t seem like he used his powers on her.

“Why haven’t you tried to influence me with your sin, yet?” 

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Lust huffs. 

“What?”

“Our powers can only inflate emotions that are already present. When I reached out to inflate yours, I sensed no emotion to inflate. Either you truly feel nothing, or they’re so deeply buried that even I can’t find them,” 

“I…See,” 

“Is that why you considered jumping from the cliff, Stella Stregah?” 

Lust raised a brow, examining the way her face scrunched. 

“That’s not your concern, Malvagi.” Amara snapped, moving to pull away.

He chuckled, yanking her into a spin, before she could, then caught her, and pushed her into a dip, hand cupping the thigh of her raised leg. His face was mear inches from hers.

“No need to be so wrathful, little witch. Let go of your troubles for a night. Release those pent up feelings and give in to your desires,” 

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she told him, point blank. 

“I never said you should. Not unless those are your desires,” Lust shrugged, not rising from the dip, letting his hand trail down her leg, “Dance. Drink,” she glanced behind him to see a table of drinks and food she hadn’t noticed before, and on the other side, comfortable looking chairs were laid out around the bonfire, “Rest. Talk. Sing. Give into whatever brings your pleasure,” 

“You mean to feed your sin,” 

“Perhaps. But can you deny that giving in to pleasure, forgetting what ails you, even for a single night, would be bad?” 

It wouldn’t. She knew it wouldn’t. 

“Surely you have plenty of people available to feed your sin,” 

“Yet I crave you,” 

Amara’s eyes narrowed. 

“If I give into pleasure, you won’t use your sin on me?” 

“Not unless you ask, little witch,” 

“Then it’s a deal. Just for tonight.” 

“Just for tonight.” 

It hadn’t been just for a night. 

She had returned two nights later, and made the same deal again, swearing it was the last time. Then again. And again. And again. And again. 

Eventually, she gave into more and more of her desires, spending more than a couple of those nights with him making love on the beach, or in a cave. One time, he’d even appeared in her bedroom while her father was out drinking. Lust had wrinkled his nose when he appeared, be it at the sorry state of the place she lived in, or the clear evidence of her father’s vices, despite his  own position, she couldn’t tell. 

Eventually, she’d found herself coming to enjoy the jovial prince’s company. Perhaps it was unwise to do so, given what she knew of the malvagi, yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Even as she began to desire more than just his body. Instead, she longed for tender nights where he held her by the fire after a particularly vigorous session of love making in a cave. 

Foolishly, she longed for the scowl he gave at her proposal to roast marshmallows over his flaming crown, before reluctantly agreeing if only she never shared it with her brothers, only to watch her oh, so tenderly as she made s’mores for them. Above all, she longed for the high she felt in his presence, which she recently learned wasn’t due to his sin, but rather her own feelings, and delusions.

That was all it was. Delusions. 

Princes of Hell are content to rule alone, with no desire to share their power with anyone. 

Now, at least she had her memories to hold onto as she got married. Then, when Prince Zarus would transform her into one of his own at the reception, right before injecting her with his venom, she’d likely lose all senses, or memories of her Prince. Perhaps that would be the mercy. To forget all of it, and be lost in the oblivion for the rest of eternity. 

A sharp knock snaps her from her thoughts. In the mirror, she watched the lady’s maids quickly shuffle out, but glanced away at her father’s entry. She refused to even look at him. 

He, obviously, noticed this too, but for once, did not strike her. Instead, he examined her.

“You don’t look like a whore, for once,” he comments. Amara said nothing. “Don’t look so sullen when you walk down the aisle. You are to wed royalty, and if you wish for comfort in your new life, do not let the prince tire of you.” 

“Don’t pretend this is for me,” she whispers, “All this is so you can gain wealth, power and immortality. You care nothing for how I feel about the matter.” Tears well in her eyes as she gazes at her reflection, feeling like an imposter. 

Her father approached, ignoring her flinch as he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning beside her head to watch her in the mirror.  

She refused to meet his gaze.

“Nonsense. You’re the precious,” his hands squeezed uncomfortably tight, voice strained, “daughter that my wife left behind before she died. I am merely doing what is best, so that you might live a life of comfort,” 

Amara wanted to retort. To hurl insults and decor at him, but knew the guards would happily inject her before the wedding started, upon their Prince’s orders, and drag her down the aisle in that state of euphoria if that’s what it took. She didn’t want that. She wanted to put it off as long as she could. Yet, she also wanted to be rid of her father. 

Mercifully, another knock at the door dragged her father away with one, final, painful squeeze of her shoulders. 

She barely noticed the newcomer enter after her father, the woman draped in silver, emanating a familiar sensuality. Amara’s eyes snapped to hers as she pressed a finger to her lips. A slip of paper drops in front of her, before she uses transvenio to make her escape. 

Eyes wide, Amara reaches for the paper, slowly unfolding it. 

My dearest Amara, You don’t have to say yes. Meet at the back door and I can take you away from here, somewhere you’d be happy. I’d give absolutely anything for that, so I ask that if you wish to escape this, then come find me. I’ll be there until the reception ends.  Forever yours, Prince Lust. 

The message burst into flames, leaving behind a slip of paper with a map drawn on it. It appeared to lead from her room to the place he was waiting. The only issue were the guards outside her room. With furrowed brows, she shoved the paper into her pocket, hoping she’d have a chance on the way to the altar. 

Finally, when her father came to collect her, she walked to the end of the hall. 

“Father. I- I forgot my necklace! Could you go back and get it?” 

“Just leave it, before we’re late,” he assures, with thinly veiled irritation and faux kindness.

“But it was a gift from the Prince. He’d be terribly angry if I don’t,” she tried.

Her father raised a brow, but nodded to the guards, who turned back. She and her father had watched them head back up the hall, to her room, before she turned on her heel, reaching for the paper. She’d made it halfway up the hall before a firm grip pulled her back. 

“Where do you think you’re-” he noticed the paper. His eyes slid over the map, narrowing on it. Before she knew what was happening, a sharp sting was felt across her face, strong enough to send her to the ground, “You whore! You think you can escape this? You think you can embarrass me?!”

She shrank under his ire, more tears welling in his eyes. 

“I- I’m sorry-”

He yanked her up by the arm. 

“No. But you will be. Just you wait until the reception is over,” he hissed, “Now compose yourself,” 

She did her best as they stood in the hallway, certain that the guards heard everything. A put of dread opened up in her stomach and minutes ticked by far too slowly, yet far too quickly at the same time. Each second was like a step towards the gallows. 

She barely processed the guard’s return or her father clasping the necklace around her. She didn’t bother to hide her stiffness, or heartbreak, even as her father snapped at her to smile. As far as she was concerned, this was as good as walking to the executioner’s block. 

The doors to the throne room opened, revealing the altar, where the immortal throne, where Zarus, sat at the end of an aisle laid with red and black petals. 

Amara didn’t care much what plant they were from, only that it felt like a mocking reminder that the path to her future was scattered with more and more burdens to laden her shoulders. 

She didn’t notice when she got to the altar.

She didn’t acknowledge the priest, or her fiance. 

She stood in stony silence, with the eyes of bloodsucking monsters pinned to her. 

The lines she dreaded most were coming.

She hardly felt like she could breath, much less speak. 

She wanted to run.

She had to run.

She needed to run. 

Run. 

Run.

Ru-

“Do you, Amara Willows, take Prince Zarus to be your Prince and your husband, and to serve him and his court, for the rest of eternity?” 

Her throat dried up. 

She couldn’t speak.

“Amara?” a distant voice called.

She couldn't discern who.

She could feel her father’s harsh glare on her, and the Prince’s hand tightening on hers. 

“Amare Willows, do you take-” 

She couldn’t take it. She ran. Amara practically jumped off the altar, gown bunched in her hands, as she raced for the doors. There was yelling, and she felt pain in her foot as she stumbled, shoe falling off in the process, but she refused to acknowledge the pain as she made for the doors. It only really sunk in as two guards caught her arms in a bruising grip.

“Let me-” 

“Aren’t you supposed to ask those with objections to ‘speak now’ or some bullshit?” 

Amara’s head snapped towards the door at the familiar voice. Charcoal eyes met her own, and the flames that circled his head flickered somewhat brighter. As per usual, he wore an embroidered suit jacket and pants, foregoing the shirt. 

It was him. 

He was here. 

Her prince was here. 

“There is none in this court who would dare object to their Prince’s union,” scowled Zarus. 

“Luckily I’m not part of this court then,” Lust grins, ever the jovial one, “So allow me to say with all sincerity in my non-existent heart,” he mocked, only, there was something different. His eyes had an intensity about them that she’d never seen before, “that I object,” 

“Lu-” she tried to reach out, only for Zarus to appear in front of her. 

The guards back off when Zarus grabs her wrist. 

“On what grounds? You have no right to interfere in our affairs,”  

“I do when you take a member of my court,” 

“My daughter has never been a member of your vile court!” Her father interrupted, his face going red, from embarrassment or rage, she couldn’t tell. 

“You see, that’s where you're wrong,” Lust starts, as he begins his way up the aisle, “She and I had made a deal, that involved her allowing me to fuel my sin through her several times a week. Marrying you would prevent her from holding up her end of the bargain,” 

Her eyes widened as she recalled the deal she made, time and time again. 

“Each corner of The Underworld has its own set of laws. Human law, the law of the Shifting Isles, dictates that a woman may not enter such agreements without her father or husband’s consent, deferring only to their female line in the absence of a male relative,” her father snapped. 

“Yes, however, each law can be overturned by The King,” 

“Not without valid reason to-” 

“And there is,” a new voice called. 

The man who just entered is burly, with dark hair, tied back with leather, and upswept, dark eyes. A scar is carved through his right cheek, a silver gleam against his darker features, and fine black suite. Despite how bored the man seems, the way his hand remains in reach of what appears to be a dagger’s sheath makes it clear that he’s been assessing everything with a warrior’s eye. He came prepared for violence. 

Lust told her about him before. Anir. The King’s second. 

“Consent is the most important aspect of courtship and marriage. Yet your bride doesn’t appear to want to be here at all,” Lust muses.

“What nonsense-” her father snapped, but was cut off by a withering glare from Anir. 

“The King has asked me to confirm this. If it is true, then he’s willing to recognise House Lust’s claim of the woman, and has ordered me to leave behind a declaration of war as a result,” Anir holds an envelope between two fingers. 

“This is ridiculous-” her father attempted again, only to be cut off again.

“Of course my bride wishes to be here,” Zarus turns from Anir to Amara, grip tightening painfully on her wrist, “don’t you?” 

Amara winces, unable to speak from the strength with which he was holding her. Anir examined her, waiting, but the pain in her wrist became too much. She was sure he was crushing the bone, even before she heard a snapping sound coming from there. She wanted to cry out, only for the pressure on her wrist to vanish in a moment. 

That was the moment the petals scattered on the aisle started coming closer. It was as if she was falling.

It wasn’t until warm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to a warm chest, that she saw Lust kneeling beside her. Through her gaze, though blurred with unshed tears, she noticed a female demon, the one from before, gripping the Prince’s hand almost as tightly as he did her’s. Tighter perhaps. 

A warm hand gently guided her face away from the sight, so that she might meet the gaze of her prince instead. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make it,” she whispered, thinking to her failed attempt at escape,” 

“It’s okay, little witch. I’m here now,” Lust whispers, cradling your body. 

You turn to see the man, Anir, approaching too. His gaze is calculating as he observes you, likely trying to figure out what to report to his prince. 

“What’s important now is that you’re honest,” he tells you sternly, though not unkindly, “If you don’t wish to marry Zarus, speak now, Miss Willows,” 

Her heart races at his words, at the opportunity to escape. She wants to reach for it, to grasp it but-

“But where will I go?” she asks weakly. 

Lust, who was cradling her wounded wrist in his hand, smiled gently at her. Like he had many times before. 

“You’ll come with me,” he whispered. 

“But why? You have so many demons to feed your sin, so why-” 

“Because I want you,” he reminds her, “I’ll tell you as many times as you need. I want you. Not anybody else,” he leans down to your ear, “Come back with me, to House Lust. Join my court officially. Be mine. Let me make you my princess, and then be mine. Mine for eternity,” 

“Lust-” 

“Hush. Let me finish,” he waits for you to nod before speaking, “In return, I’ll give you all the comfort and pleasure you want. I won’t have dalliances with anyone else. I won’t look at anyone else. Nobody but you. I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, if you just say ‘yes’” 

He’s practically begging, in front of the entire vampire court, and his brother’s second, no less. 

You don’t bother to contain your tears as you lean up, wrapping your good arm around him. 

“Miss Willows-” Anir begins. 

“Amara, I forbid-” 

“Yes,” she manages to get out through her sobs, not breaking your gaze from Lust’s, “I want to go to House Lust. I want to leave this place,”

Anir nods, beginning to address the room again, but you pay it no mind. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Lust’s shoulders, mindful of the injured wrist, and buried your face there. The demon from earlier tried to console her, only for Lust to wave her away. He could feel her emotions. The fear, and heartache for her situation, all overshadowed by relife, joy, and desire for her freedom, for Lust. He felt no need to inflate it, instead, he gently encouraged her to let it out however she needed. 

It was only when Lust deposited her on a bed covered in deep plum silks, and overly stuffed pillows.

“Care for a bath?” he asked.

“As long as it stays one. I’m far too tired to do anything right now,” she murmured to him.

Lust chuckled, but agreed, as he helped her from, what he called, an inordinate amount of fabric, as she giggled and reminded him that it was only two layers.

“Two layers too many,” he huffed, before tearing the dress from her body and depositing her in the bat. 

While she soaked, Lust gently wiped the makeup from her face, before pressing a kiss to her temple. He brought some ointment and bandages for her wrist, silently wrapping it, before carrying her back to bed.

“If you don’t wish to sleep bare, I could have some night clothes brought,” he gently offered, as he helped her dry off.

Amara shook her head.

“I’ve slept beside you, naked, in caves, and on sand. I think I’ll be fine to do so while wrapped in the most comfortable silks I’ve ever seen,” she assured.

Lust smiled, nodding, before reaching for something from the bedside.

“I only wish for your comfort, little witch, before I make good on one of my promises,” 

Amara blushed at the reminder.

“You don’t-”

He ignored her as he took a ring in one hand, hew good wrist in the other. 

“I want to. Let me make you my princess. My fiance. My only lover,”

She stared at him, noting sincerity in his dark eyes. Amara nodded.  

“Then, from now until eternity, be mine, Lust,” 

Lust slid the ring to her finger, then pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Mine,” he nipped at her.

She giggled, and nipped back.  

“Mine,” 

[magicisinbooks]

Gluttony x the reporter

Kingdom of the Cursed

Whatever levity Gluttony had been feeling was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy glare. I followed the direction of his gaze, surprised to find the object of his loathing was a beautiful, prim noblewoman. Her pale blue hair was coiffed in the style of proper English ladies and her elegant dress buttoned up to her neck. She wore kidskin gloves that ended past her elbows and an expression of revulsion as she spied the host, her gaze cutting from across the room. She leaned next to her companion and whispered something that sent the other noblewoman tittering.

"If you'll excuse me." Gluttony's mood darkened further. "There's a party crasher in our midst." Without uttering another word, Gluttony strode off toward the giggling ladies.

"She's a journalist from the Shifting Isles. And she rarely has anything flattering to say about the royals in this realm. She's been particularly vicious with Gluttony." [...] She called his last gathering 'perfectly ordinary and utterly contrived. A predictable, uninspired evening.' " [...] My brother quoted it so often, it stuck. Gluttony was furious. He has since thrown the most lavish, over-the-top, debauched parties he can." "He wants her to eat her words." "Amongst other things, no doubt." I couldn't help but smile. "Hate is a powerful aphrodisiac for some."

Kingdom of the Feared

"Prince Gluttony is correct about one thing-his feast will make guests wish he'd end them all." Gluttony's easygoing smile vanished. "My dear, if my parties had the ability to kill, I'd personally deliver your invite." "That was as clever as your idea to lace wine with slumber root, promptly knocking all your guests out. At least that time it wasn't sheer boredom that put them to sleep." She gave him a cutting smile before dropping into a curtsy.

"Trust me, demons are not just asking about the curse's return. They live in fear some superior reporter with a penchant for snobbery will ruin their good time." Gluttony shooed her away, promptly earning a fierce glare.

Gluttony robbed his hands together, a devious expression falling into place. "You know? That viper gave me a great idea I think I'll offer her a glass of wine laced with slumber root and kick her and her assistant out. Then we'll see who thinks I'm unclever. At least we won't have to worry about your coronation party hitting the gossip columns."

He glanced around a crowded room, pausing on where Gluttony and the columnist stood a foot apart, not speaking.

Throne of the Fallen

Gluttony at the very least ought to know better-he was currently involved in a war with his own reporter in the Seven Circles.

Gluttony's reporter printed this just today.

Before this article was submitted to print, the ever-lacking Prince Gluttony was questioned about a guest he'd hosted the previous night, but he refuse to comment or confirm any part in the game. [...] Gluttony remained mum, hinting only that it was likely a lover sneaking out after overindulging in sin. [...] That the prince would attempt to play coy and fail spectacularly is unsurprising. Gluttony is the least clever of his brothers.

The reporter he was feuding with hadn't responded to the invitation Envy had sent, and he was sure Gluttony's foul mood had nothing to do with that.