Misla frowned as she entered the library. Sorin was supposed in here studying. So why was it completely dark without any sounds? Did something go wrong? Were there assassins here? Sure, Devils could still see in the dark, but it was too dark to read here. If he were studying in here there should be a light somewhere.
With a thought her senses sharpened, her nose strengthening, to allow her to pick up the scents around herself. The smell of books was hard to describe. There was no dust, no mold in here. Everything was pristine and new, even the centuries old shelves being in perfect condition. Even so, books and the dry ink on them had their own distinct smell, weak normally, but strong enough when she was surrounded by a whole library of them. Yet that was not what caught her attention.
With catlike grace she glided across the floor, past rows of shelves, crossing dozens of meters in a moment to arrive at the aisle where the scent of three living beings were coming from.
Dwaaaa. So cuuuute.
Sorin was sitting with his back resting against one fo the shelves, sleeping. The black cat was curled up, head in his lap, and drool trickling down her lips as she slept. There was already a small, wet patch forming on Sorin's pants indicating that she had been at it for a while. The white cat in turn had apparently decided to snuggle in beneath Sorin's arm and had fallen asleep there while hugging him.
She wanted to rush over there and hug him, but that would have woken him up. Sorin was already working so hard to meet his father's impossible expectations - really, Zerophimus should just get over his own incompetence instead of holding Sorin to higher standards than he was ever held to - that she couldn't make it worse by depriving him of his sleep. On the other hand, sleeping here in the library wasn't good for him. She needed to get him into his bed. And discipline his cats. They were supposed to take care of their master's well being, not use him as a pillow.
With cat like tread, she stole upon Sorin, stopping just a step away. Reaching down, she pinched the backs of the necks of both of the useless cats, releasing her aura into them. The two were both simultaneously jolted awake, and unable to move, held limp and frozen in place as she physically lifted them up and off of her son. Their inability to move was all that stomped them from wilting in place as she glared at them, turning around and setting them down on the ground. She made a simple shushing noise with a finger to her lips, not that it was necessary. Her power ensured that they couldn't speak even if they were dumb enough to ignore her order.
With that she turned back to her itty bitty Sorin-kins.
A warm smile bloomed on her face as she bent over once more and gently reached down, scooping her son to her bosom and holding there. She was careful not to jostle him as she carried him back towards his room, humming a lullaby that he used to fall asleep to when he was younger the whole way.
She could smell and sense the two cats trailing behind her, careful not to disturb their owner's rest like proper servants were supposed to do. Now if only they could have taken that proper servant behaviour to getting him back to his bad when he fell asleep.
Eventually she reached Sorin's room, and set about tucking him into his bed. It required a bit of finessing, holding Sorin with one arm in a way that let him keep sleeping while moving his sheets aside with the other until she could lay him to rest. She could have asked the cats to help, but that wasn't an act of trust she was willing to give them right now. So instead she shooed them away, sending them back to their room.
"I love you Sorin."
She whispered, leaning down to lay a kiss upon his forehead.
"I love you. And I hope that someday you will forgive me."
Standing back up, she turned around and headed out. She stopped at the door, giving her son one last wistful look before stepping outside and gently closing it.
Once out in the hallway she spent a few seconds composing herself, and checking her outfit. It was a proper and formal dress, intricately designed to show her position both as Lady of House Bael and sister to Lord Vapula. It was probably not needed for this meeting, but probably wasn't good enough in this case. After all, Sorin wasn't her only child. And while she loved her sons equally, Sairaorg… Well, Sairaorg needed a lot more help than his brother did. Even if it was unfair to Sorin, she had to balance the scales for Sairaorg, lest he end up even more angry and bitter than his father did.
And so with one last second to collect herself, she cast the teleportation.
The Vapula mansion was smaller than what she was used to.
And doesn't that just say everything that there is about how much I have gotten used to being a Bael.
Objectively, it was still a magnificent mansion, the entire building easily the size of a town. It had an entire wing meant to serve as an open zoo to dozens of lion species as well, but someone had misunderstood 'open' zoo to mean that the animals were free to enter and exit the zoo at all. As a result, there were lions wondering the entire mansion and the gardens, all of them kept tame, and serving as an extra layer of security for the Vapula family.
Even now, she had only just arrived, and already there were a trio of lions nuzzling up to her, pushing their heads into her, purring and begging to be petted.
"You were always a Vapula, no matter the clothes you wore."
The laughing voice made her look up to see her brother standing there. He was tall, over two meters in height, wide and muscular. He was missing a shirt, eight pack chest hard enough to forge steel on exposed for all the world to see. He also possessed a mane of golden hair - not the color he was born with - spread out and wide, as majestic as any lion's hair.
"Lord Vapula, you do me-"
"None of that bullshit sis." He interrupted her. "You are here to meet family, not attend one of Zero's little idiotic parties."
She would have normally made a rebuttal about someone insulting her husband like that. Even if she no longer loved him, even if she desired the touch of others, they were still married. There were expectations to maintain. But she couldn't. Not here. Not given why she had come.
"Hello, brother." She greeted simply. "It is lovely to see you. How have been things here."
"Boring since you have stopped coming around."
She frowned. "I have been married for centuries." She pointed out to her brother. "So have you."
"Yes. And in all that time, how many times have you visited?" He asked simply. "How often have I gotten to meet my sister."
Misla sighed. "Zerophimus insists that as Lady Bael I am expected to-"
"Are you really going to recite what he said to be as if they were gospel while you are here to ask my help in going behind his back?"
Misla stopped, caught off guard. Sure, her brother hadn't had much love fore Zerophimus ever since his jealousies had become more visible, but he usually had the decency to not be this blunt about it. At least not unless they were behind closed doors with magical spells to prevent eavesdropping.
"Tell me, has he allowed Sairaorg to test his abilities with the Vapula talents yet?"
"No, he-"
"Of course, not. He is a Bael. Who cares about what special bloodlines cultivated over millennia someone might have if it isn't his oh so special Power of Destruction?" Misla felt herself becoming rather uncomfortable at the tone. She looked around- "Don't worry, there isn't anyone around to hear." Her brother clearly understood what she was thinking. "I made sure we would meet alone for this. I didn't want to jump around the topic. Not now, not for this."
Misla sighed, and closed her eyes. "You aren't happy." She said simply.
"Of course I am not!" Her brother yelled. "He doesn't love you anymore. He doesn't care about you as a person, as Lady Bael or even as a Vapula. All he cares about is that you don't embarrass him and serve as a broodmare to create his precious Super Devils of Destruction for him."
"He is my lord and husband." Misla protested. "By ancient law-"
"We are Devils, not Angels. Ancient laws are just a list of things that you should follow most of the time but violate each at least once in your life time. You know this. You were taught this at the foot of our parents together with me." He paused, taking a breath. During the tirade, the volume of his voice had been increasing. Now, he spoke once more, in a calmer manner. "If he wants a Super Devil heir that badly, and you want to please him that much, why don't you sleep with Sirzechs? He would take care of you and treat you with love, and no one would know that the child wasn't Zero's."
"Grayfia would know." Yes, there was no way to hide such a thing from Sirzechs's sexretary. The women might pretend to be all prim and proper, but Misla was certain that acting the part of Satan's subservient prudish maid was just what she got off on. Most importantly, Grayfia was almost always at her lord's side. When she wasn't, she could return at any moment without knocking. To sleep with Sirzechs once without being caught? A high risk gamble. To have an affair? That was suicide. "She would know, and she would kill me."
Her brother laughed at that. "You know, I think that says more than I ever could about your marriage. I suggest cheating on your husband, and your only protest is fear of the other man's wife. You didn't even mention Zero in your protest."
Misla winced. "I meant-"
"Let it be." He sighed, and shook his head. He then reached behind him, and took out a sword. "This was the best that I could get on short notice. It will only go so far. If you want Sairaorg to overcome the Power of Destruction with this, it won't last. I give it five to ten years before it fails."
Misla shook her head. "It isn't supposed to let him win. That is impossible. With Sorin training, no matter what we give Sairaorg, he will eventually overcome it. No, I just want Sairaorg to know that we care. That even if he doesn't have the Power of Destruction, that is okay. That he is loved."
"Then divorce that husband of yours, pick up your sons and come back home. Become a Vapula again. Here he won't be hated for not having that prick's power."
Misla sighed sadly. "I can't. The balance of Hell wouldn't allow it. Even if it did, he is Lord Bael. I would lose the children." She raised her hand to stop her brother's response. "You can't fight it. You can't be the one destabilizing Hell. We are still weak from the Cvill War. The Satans wouldn't allow another one."
Her brother growled. The air shook, and the ground shattered from the voice. The lions around her quickly fled, running back into the house.
"So I am to just stand and watch as you suffer?"
"What else is there?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How do you console a child whose inheritance was stolen by their brother at their father's direction?
Misla did not know what she should say. She could not blame Sorin; he hadn't asked for the fight. He had simply been made to fight, like Sairaorg, and turned out to be stronger. She could not blame her husband; not publicly, even if everything was pretty clearly his fault. So how was she supposed to help Sairaorg? It was certainly not his fault that his father was an ass.
She did not know. All she could do was go in there, and try to be there for him.
With that determination, she opened the door to the medical room. There was just a single bed and occupant there. Sairaorg was upon it, his body bruised and battered. Blood that he had been ignoring during his fight covered him, his young form looking weak and broken. Worse, the injuries did not seem just physical. Sairaorg wasn't lying down or sitting up, but curled up and crying, tears and snot coming down his face.
Misla instantly forgot her hesitation, and rushed over, pulling her son to herself as she hugged him.
"Oh, Sai. I'm so sorry."
Sairaorg didn't say anything. He just turned around and hugged her back, burying his face in her ample breasts. Within seconds she could feel the gown grow wet and clingy from his tears and snot, but ignored it. Sairaorg needed emotional support right now, and if this was all she could give him, then she would give it to him.
They remained embraced like that for a few minutes, Misla patting him and saying soft, consoling words that had no real meaning to them, until Sairaorg eventually spoke up.
"Why?" He asked, the words muffled by her breasts, but still heard with her cat like hearing. "Why is it always me? No matter how hard I try, how hard I work, he won't recognize me. And now I can't even compete with Sorin. I'm not even heir anymore, just the loser who lost the position."
"Oh, Sai. You aren't a loser. You are my lovely son."
"Who else- who else is there? Who lost the title of heir like this?"
Honestly? Misla could recall a few. Each such event was notable, with plenty of attendance, and would be recorded in books afterwards besides. That said, they were rare. The newest she could recall was from around three centuries ago. Relatively fresh news by the standards of Devils like her, but to someone like Sairaorg who hadn't even lived a tenth of that time?
"No one." Sairaorg said, misinterpreting her pause. "I'm the biggest loser of my generation."
Misla winced. Not just at the self hate in those words, but at that the fact that they were indeed true. No matter what she said, what Sairaorg just said was an undeniable fact. His only defense was losing against a twin. Even so, unless someone did something truly pathetic like being upstaged by a sibling five years their younger, this was a shame that none in his generation would match for likely centuries.
"Oh, Sai. You shouldn't worry about things like that. Don't care about what others say about you. Their opinions don't matter." She pulled back, and then knelt down, so that she was eye to eye with her son. She could see his eyes, red with crying, puffy lips, and pouting limps. It was both adorable and completely heart wrenching. She ignored it, grasping his hands, and forming them into fists. "These fists of yours are your strength. Train them, and never give up on them, no matter what. If you do that, one day you will become truly strong. Strong enough to wash away any shame you might feel right now. The opinions of those who look down on you? They won't matter once you are stronger than them." It was empty platitudes in a way. It wasn't like there weren't those with talent who also pushed their limits. Those would have an unbridgeable gap Sairaorg could never cross. Still, empty platitudes was all she had. "Become strong Sairaorg. Become the strongest that you can be, and there will be many who will accept you."
He sniffed. "Thanks mom." One hand was pulled out of his grasp to wipe away his tears. "Thank you. I will become strong enough so that you can be proud of me. Just, please don't leave me. You are the sword that you gave me are all that I have left."
Her heart clenched painfully at the words. "Oh, Sai. I would never-"
"Mrs. Bael?" A voice interrupted her. With a murderous growl she turned to the butler who was standing by the door. "Lord Bael requests your attendance at the party. He would like you to congratulate your son on his magnificent victory, and for putting on a fight worthy of a Bael."
For a moment Misla wondered if she killed and disposed of the butler, whether she could reasonably claim that he had never found her. Unfortunately, Sairaorg was still young. He would never be able to keep a secret like this. Besides, he was too young to see someone being torn to pieces while still alive before his eyes.
"Very well, tell my husband that I shall be there momentarily."
The butler put on a brittle smile at that. "I was explicitly ordered to lead you there directly."