In the Throne Room

Desdemonda looked up at the throne room door, wishing that she didn’t have to do this; she would be punished for sure. Prince Lucifer hated everything, everything, even her, his most effective destroyer. More than he hated her however, he hated the Shepherd, hated him with every inch and bit of his cold bitter black cavity in his chest. The rumour was that when Lucifer declared himself better than Shepherd, his heart stopped, turned to stone, and fell out of his chest. He was then sent to live in the abyss on the far eastern coast, a bitter land of freezing cold winds, jagged sharp rocks, and no relief from any of the elements that constantly rage. It was hell.

                Desdemonda waited for her name to be announced and she proceeded into the throne room. She knew that looking at her feet would be futile, he could sense her rage. She looked up and saw the most beautiful man, at least, Lucifer as he looked to her. He had gorgeous blue eyes, ink black hair, the most chiselled jaw and perfect nose. Even though she admired his perfection, it disturbed her in a way, knowing that he looked different to everyone.  

“Desdemonda,” Lucifer spoke in his smooth, seducing silky voice, “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to come back empty handed, after your last punishment I would have thought you would have done better.  Or did you get a strange thrill out of it?” he chuckled in a deep bass that sent shivers down Desdemonda’s spine.
”Your highness, I had her, her cloak was in my hand. She was caught!! I HAD HER!!”

Lucifer glared at her with intense hate, “Yet, she somehow managed to escape you again. You are testing my extremely limited amount of patience. If you don’t have her the next time you meet her, you are going to suffer more than you can imagine,” his voice had become chilling, enough to raise goosebumps on Desdemonda’s skin. She looked back up at his face, noting the false warmth in his eyes had disappeared, his eyes turning pitch black.

“If you fail me one more time, I will have to take matters into my own hands. And that is never pretty.”