Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no profit, Capcom does.
This is the first in a series of four fics pairing Sparda with various people. It takes place after Storm, which is in the Nevan set of four and is Sparda/Nevan.
This story is themed B is for Baal, for the alphabetasoup livejournal fic challenge.
Midnight - Mundus
The feast was of the tenderest meat of babes and the most maddened of sinners' souls, fruits of the conquest that Mundus had envisioned.
With control over the food supply, who would be able to stand against the new Emperor? He would reign forever, the devil prince whose strength had overthrown his father, as he had overthrown his, as the denizens of the Underworld grew stronger every eon, as only the strong survived.
He had believed in that vision of an eternal night to reign over the Underworld and the human world. He had been honored to be sent to serve its architect as the strongest of his family in his generation, though by fruit of study rather than innate power. Surely he was no match for Mundus.
Yet Mundus seemed to disagree.
It was almost time, the humans would be beginning the preparations soon.
His duty now was to keep Mundus busy.
What had once been the most pleasant of endeavors, something he had strived to earn by delivering the human world on a platter (oh, the screams of tortured, dying souls, the agony in the air, it had enflamed him more than the succubus could sate: reveling in his strength he had wanted the approbation of the strongest) as the demons that should have been guarding Temen ni Gru did now, pouring through the portal bringing tributed slaves, prisoners of war, casualties of war, the dead and the ones that longed to be dead.
These would be the last to suffer so, he promised himself, and forced himself to look up at Mundus from his bow as he presented the offerings of the conquered world.
And Mundus smiled down on him, and oh.
So strong, so very strong, and he questioned what he had questioned over and over.
Was it worth losing this? Was it worth losing his own world, his soon to be mate, his seat of near-ultimate power for the sake of something as meanlingless as 'right?' The rights of humans? The weak only had the right to die, that was truth.
But they were not weak and ugly.
Yet Mundus, for all they called him evil, and perhaps he was, was beautiful and strong, more than any other, more than those whose lives relied on being bewitching.
And he was seated on Mundus' right hand, the feast beginning.
He fed well, knowing what was coming. He would need stamina to survive the battle long enough to inflame Mundus, need every trick he could muster as he performed the ultimate trickery.
Mundus had promised him he would become the Emperor's mate, Viceroy of the human world as soon as he delivered it to his master.
Tonight, he would swear himself again and be forsworn utterly.
The most evil thing a devil could do, and yet… what was his sin against a world of wrongness, of beauty and strength wiped out? For they were strong, even if not in ways demons valued. They strived, and he could not let that be lost.
But they were pale little things, the easily-crushed flowers they admired, next to the midnight sun.
He would betray someone tonight.
Would it be their plans? Say he had tricked the humans: they were using the last of their resources to build the seals, he would kill the last of their strongest white mages at dawn tomorrow, after this night's delights, while the others celebrated in the Underworld.
And Mundus would praise his cleverness. He wanted that.
How could Mundus in all his glory be wrong?
Agony awaited him tonight, and pleasure. But would the pleasure burn him alive?