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King!Demon!AmericaXReader

As cliché as it might sound, there are demons that rule another world unknown to ours.

But that’s the only cliché thing there is.

You’re thinking that this other world has people boiling in hot oil. The victims scream in pain as they’re pulled on a rack above a fiery pit. Shoved into an iron maiden and tightly locked away, with the spiked shadows etched on their faces. They’re never dying carcass put on a spit and rotated on flame of despair and ache until they were well-done and crispy.

You’re half right.

Granted, there aren’t pretty pink unicorns running around. The clouds aren’t made of cotton candy, and the flowers aren’t spun sugar. Demons, monsters, and minions don’t hold hands and sing Kumbaya together while roasting marshmallows on a roaring campfire, sharing heartwarming stories.

Although, that is a little closer.

That a world like ours existed beyond our vision, but where demons live much like we do, is surreal to most, perhaps to even you at the time. They have rich and vibrant lives, and were already in the ending years of their own renaissance. They were starting in on the new way of life, with a new royal family.

Much like your own world, they flourished in the new cultural movement. But even with paint on a canvass, they weren’t like us. Free thinkers, newer ideas, and inventions were fine if you had horns, wings, or the murkiest sense of wickedness.

Sadly, they were quite far from equal rights for everyone. They still had classes of people and what you fell into was the lowest class, and certainly the most different. And what was the difference you ask?

The only difference was cattle.

You’ll find out.

You didn’t know that, nor had you ever thought you would know about underworld sing-a-longs before. And if you did learn about it, it would be after you died. At least that’s what you were told. Why not believe it?

Would you really want to think that a living, breathing person would be taken to the bowels of a hellish, gleaming world of torture? Somewhere something lurked to deflower virgins in unspeakable ways. Creatures came out on moonlit nights to steal and eat babies. Delectable souls were snacked upon by ripping and snaring teeth of less-then holier beasts.

Of course you wouldn’t! Those are what nightmares are made up of; fear, agony, and unsightly acts on the dead or living. No one wants nightmares of that magnitude. Nightmares that would devourer you with razor sharp teeth.

But perhaps this wouldn’t be that kind of nightmare, or maybe it would be.

*~*~*~*~~*~*~**~~*~*~~**~~*

Your breath hitched painfully in your throat like a rock with jagged edges slowly crushing your windpipe.

“We give this sacrifice to you, our God! Our Master!” The apparent leader of the group held out a black, leather bond book in his hand. His face hid by a mask of a goat with horns that rose up and caught the light, his body clad in a red cloak with gold accents. The others around him wore sweating, waxy face covering to hide their true identity.

Biting down hard on the gag in your mouth, your teeth ached as you clamped your jaw tighter. Pulling at the bonds on the table, they cut deeper into your wrists.

Looking around the old meat cooler, you stared at the hooks that hung menacing from the ceiling. The aroma of stale blood and rotten meat and fat burned your eyes. Mold slowly expanded up the side of the wall, hiding the rusting steel shell.

“Calm yourself, (f/n).” A person said, resting his hands on your shoulders that tensed, your muscles bunched in defense. “This is for the greater good.”

Strangely the tears didn’t flow from your eyes like they should have. You were still in shock maybe?

You were dressed in your black polo from your work at the grocery store, still in black jeans and old sneakers. Even your name badge still on the left side of your chest, slowly moving up and down with each breath you pulled thru your nose. They hadn’t even removed your headphones that blocked some of the sounds.

You were going home, walking down the same worn sidewalk to your small apartment, just like every night. It was almost a blur as a rag covered your mouth, and you awoke in this candlelight room, surrounded by men wearing robes.

“We call on our King! Show yourself!” The leader beckoned again, and a dragger dancing in his hand that waited to stab your heart.

“Do you hear that?” Someone asked.

Your eyes scanned the room for the rhythmic tapping coming from the walls. The ambiance changed, the temperature dropped low. The candles flickered violently on their stands. The air became ranked with a stench and cloudy with a gas-like smoke.

Even the men that were summoning the unseen force seemed to straighten their bodies in fear. If you could have seen their faces, you would have known they looked panicked.

“Who dares to disturb me?” A voice bellowed, bouncing every inch of the room.

It felt like a knife shoving into your ear and you painfully cringed. How you wished you could cover your ears to help, even if the headphones gave some protection. The men dropped to their knees, covering their own like the pain was ten times worse.

“I asked you a question, peasants!”

Craning your neck, you looked at the men that were even more nervous than you. Trickles of blood covered their hands from the voice, slowly seeping between their fingers. Were your ears bleeding too?

The leader was lifted into the air and tossed into the far wall by an unseen force, his body flying in the air like a ball. He slammed against the metal wall with a groan as he slowly slid down. Leaving an imprint of his body in the steel, he glided down like a rag doll, and limply rested on the floor.

Leaving their leader, the others scrambled to their feet. They moved quickly to the door, knocking the other in front of them out of the way. Bones cracked and crunched as they finally got away.

The leader was dead, you stared as his neck that was wretched into a way that was unnatural. His mask was ajar from his face. You could see a small line of blood escape his pale lips and swirled down his chin.

“Humans,” a voice finally spoke into the stale air. “Humans are the weakest creatures on this plane of existence and mine.” A pair of boots stumped next to you and something materialized.

A set of gleaming teeth were first, then the rest of a strong body loomed over you. Two blue eyes calmly stared, with brushed back corn-yellow hair, mingled within two curling horns.

Your (e/c) eyes widened in shock, but you didn’t pull at the restraints to get away. There you stayed, perfectly still awaiting for your fate. Simple and silly thought ran thru your mind. Childhood memories, library books you forgot to return, and favorite foods. This must have been what they meant by your life flashing before your eyes.

“You aren’t scared?” He asked, as his hands slowly pulled at the leather restraints. “No…” his chuckled and his fingers lingered on your wrist, “…your pulse is racing.” And it was, like horses around a track with pounding hooves.

He pulled at your mouth gag, wickedly grinning at your trembling lips.

“You, my dear…” he said, lifting you up from the table, “…are going to have to do for my old friend. He’s turned everyone else down I’ve bought him.”

~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you awake?” Someone asked, dropping next to you on the bed. “How do you feel?”

You groaned, rolling over to face a small boy, well, it looked like a boy. Two gleaming blue eyes watched you on a smooth looking face. Looking past the normal features, you stared at the two black wings that folded to its back.

Reaching your hand up, you moved to tug at the extra appendages to see, if in fact they were real. He drew back from your touch, side stepping off the bed. The boy’s tail quickly flickered back and forth in irritation, along with his face scrunching in anger.

“I asked you a question.” He clicked his tongue and tightly crossed his arms over his chest. Knitting his thick eyebrows let you know that he was a demanding…whatever he was.

“I’m fine.” You said, sitting upright. To your surprise, you felt alright. Confused, but other than that you seemed to be well. “Where am I?” You asked, running your hands over your face, resting them over your eyes that seemed to have a hard time now adjusting to light.

“My name is Peter.” He smiled, taking a seat in the scarlet colored upholstery chair across from the bed. You seemed to be good at listening, he liked that. Finally he had someone that would listen to him.

You looked around the room and tried to place what motif this was. It looked like a room made for royalty. The crimson curtains were closed, hiding your view of the outside, although the room was brightly lit from the chandelier that hung from the middle of the room.

“Do you have a name?” He asked, studying you. “You weren’t born here, so you must. You’re not like the rest of the cattle.”

You snapped your head back at his choice of words. What did he mean by cattle? Something made you not want to ask, knowing what fate might be coming to you. Drawing in a breath of the sulfur air that smelled like burning matches, you ready yourself to ask the question. “What do you mean…”

“…what is your name?” He cut you off. “Those strange letters on that thing,” he pointed to his own chest, tapping his finger, “must be a name, right?”

“My name is (f/n),” you said, looking down at the name badge. “Where are we?” Watching the boy nervously twiddle his fingers you knew something was on the way.

You could hear voices that boomed loudly from outside the double bone white doors with bright gold handles. The voices on the opposite side sounded angry and sounded like you didn’t want to meet them. You especially didn’t want to if they were bigger version of this mini demon in front of you.

“(f/n),” Peter coolly said, as he rested his hands in his lap. “How would you like to be my bride? Demons can take cattle as wives.”

Your eyes widened, as you pushed yourself up a little farther on the massive amount of pillows. This kids, demon or not, was like twelve.

“I refuse to take a human as payment!” Someone screamed, tossing the doors open to the room. “I don’t need any more cattle!”

Whoever was there waited in the shadows of the hallway.

There was that word again; cattle. You bunched your hands in the fabric of the bedspread, how you wished you could run, but you didn’t know where to go.

“Alfred, this is payment for the three I killed earlier in the month during your coronation.” The familiar voice from the meat cooler now spoke, trailing close behind the first one. “I told you I’d make it up to you. And this, this is beyond payment. You'll have to really thank me later.”

You stared at the cream colored floor as two black dressed shoes came into view. Slowly you lifted your (e/c) eyes to take in the rest of what gave off an aura of annoyance. There stood a sandy blond haired man in a Louis Vuitton-like suit, glaring at you. You gawked at his black horns trimmed in gold upon his head. The wings on his back held tightly in place.

“Ludwig,” the now named demon, Alfred’s voice rose. “Take her back and give her to that damn Gilbert or even Ivan, I don’t want her.” Alfred glanced back at you, nervously pushing his glasses that slide down his nose up. Turning back, he started to protest to the blond fiend in front of him.

“They’ll hurt her!” Peter wailed, climbing onto the bed and grabbing your hand, pulling you closer to this small demon-like Romeo. “Alfred, can’t I just keep her?”

You gawked at the tanned demon that looked more like a beachgoer, then something of malevolence. His dusty blond mop of hair moved as he continued to speak to Ludwig, completely ignoring Peter. If it wasn’t for the bat-like wings, horns, and gleaming fangs he would have been considered handsome by any other standards and not a complete throw off.

The clearly German demon chuckled, as he heard the irritation increasing in the man’s voice. He waved a goodbye and parted with the usual German line, snapping his fingers loudly he was gone with a puff of smoke.

“Just peachy,” Alfred grumbled, slamming his hand into the door, cracking the thick wood. You drew back in fear at his strength, and why wouldn’t you? He was a demon.

“Bollocks!” A voice barked down the hallway, storming down to the room with a stream of obscenities coating the air.

“Great!” Alfred grunted. “Ludwig leaves me and now Arthur is up, this is just fan-fucking-tastic.”

The door slowly swung open on the bent hinges now, to show another creature. Tapping his foot slowly on the floor, his arms stayed across his chest.

“Alfred?” The third demon that stood on the edge of the room finally spoke. “Why are you yelling like a child? And who is that on your bed? Letting cattle into your room is far from that of royalty.”

It didn’t take a mastermind to figure out humans or whatever they considered you were cattle. You just weren’t sure what they did to cattle, and personally you didn’t want to find out.

“You…” the demon named Alfred snapped and walked quickly to you with an arrogant swagger, “…get off my bed.”

Immediately you were off the bed, standing on weak knees in front of the glasses clad demon. You gazed at him as he loomed over you like a bear ready to attack. Lowering your head, you wished to make yourself as small as possible.

“Her name is (f/n).” Peter cracked, shuffling over to where you stood and wedging himself between you and Alfred. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of fear, or common sense for that matter. Placing his balled fists on his hips and sticking his bottom lip out, he prepared to duel this miscreant.

What you didn’t know was this little lad had seen his share of humans slaughter at the hands of the older demons. Never had Alfred laid a hand on one, but he wouldn’t take the chances of you ending up impaled by one of Alfred’s fiery fists.

“Move, Peter.” Alfred order, short of grabbing himself and tossing him clear across the room. Placing his own hands on his hips, he cocked himself into a pose. “That’s an order.”

“I’m a prince!” Peter spat at him. “I’ve got just as much right, as you do, to say what happens to her, so back off.”

“Peter Kirkland.” The blond that hung by the door walked over and yanked on the ear of your defender, pulling him over to him. “You will not speak to Alfred like that. As much as you might not like the fact, he is our king.”

Alfred soon joined in, and all three were going around, raising their voice to out shadow the next.

Looking at the partially opened door, you didn’t realize you were running until you hit the black and white checkered floor in the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, but it really didn’t matter at the moment. If it wasn’t for the fact you were forcefully knocked into the wall, you probably would have found the energy and will to run until you collapsed by your own volition, but that didn’t happen.

Your eyes focused on the tip of the sword the rested on your throat, glittering from the golden wall sconces.

“Cattle found free range is death,” evenly said the demon.

Looking up, you bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming. Trying to control your breathing you focused on his piercing red eyes, almost as dangerous as the sword in his hands. Taking in his face you noted his smooth cheek bones and superficial smile, his platinum silver hair. His horns that twisted down from the side of his head, like thick vines of undergrowth in a forgotten forest.
Behind him stood one that was like a tree that no wind could knock over. The horns atop his head curled upwards, twisting towards the sky for warmth. His light blond hair and violet eyes stared with mystery at you.

“You’ve got no collar, nor do you look like one from the castle.” His smirk darkened, digging the tip of the weapon a bit deeper, readying his aim. “Have they picked such a weak thing to kill our king?”

You sucked in a breath and opened your mouth, finding suddenly your mouth was dry like cotton. “I don’t…I don’t belong here in Hell.”

“Hell?” He wheezed out a laugh, his not so steady hand shaking as he nicked your neck.

You winced at the warm dribble of blood, but the blade being so sharp, you wouldn’t have even know you’d been cut.

“This isn’t Hell, my dear.” He drew his weapon back and sat it back in the scabbard on his hip. Bowing down in front of you, he held out his hand. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Dia-Talamh.”

“Gilbert!” Alfred’s voice ricocheted off the walls. “Ivan!”

You looked back at the three that came storming down the hall. You couldn’t move quick enough to get away when you found yourself grabbed and slammed against the wall. You trembled from the pain, and wondered if you were shoved clear thru the wall.

Blinking a few times, you saw that the demon that was a stoic statue behind the red eyed one had you by the shirt and dangled you off the floor. His solid fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and bit into your skin. Finally a child like grin painted his face, his round cheek rose as he half listened to Alfred that barked orders to let you down.

Lowering himself down near your ear, he lashed out his tongue, rounding the delicate shell of it. “You would be safer thinking this is Hell, if I was you.” His hands uncoiled and skidded down the wall with a painful thump.

Peter rushed to your side, trying to help you to your feet. Hunching over, you found that you couldn’t stand. Every breath felt like slivers of glass, he must have broken a rib or two. You looked at Alfred that was nose to nose with the taller blond, verbally trying to tear him down. Ivan scoffed at him and waved his hand in the air.

“Da, I understand.” He said, turning to leave. “Stop killing the cattle or we won’t have any.”

“That isn’t what I said,” Alfred growled and stomped his foot. “Ask questions first…”

“…then kill them.” He laughed, trailing down the hallway.

“Gilbert, take her down to the others and get her something different to wear.” Alfred said, closing his sapphire blue eyes. “Just…just get her out of my sight.” Looking back at you, he gave the most pathetic look, if to half say sorry for the hospitably that you’d been welcomed with.

“This is what I mean, Alfred.” Arthur started to preach. “Peter, come along.”

“I’m a damn general and he has me doing grunt work.” Gilbert cursed under his breath. He marched down the hallway. Peter looked back at the two that walked near each other. Alfred bobbing his head to whatever Arthur was saying.

Alfred glanced back at you and Peter. He secretly shooed Peter away with his hand, while pretending to keep his attention on the fellow that read him the riot act.

“Gilbert…” Peter grumbled at the demon that was still complaining, “…come help her. I think she might be hurt.”

“General. I am a General, not a wet nurse to humans.” He snarled.

You fell forward, landing into his arms that scooped you up. Cradling you like precious porcelain, he heaved a sigh. “Let’s get her downstairs. I’m sure Francis and Antonio will be able to help. They do know more about humans than me.”

~*~*~*~~*~*~

Description
King!Demon!AmericaXReader

As cliché as it might sound, there are demons that rule another world unknown to ours.

But that’s the only cliché thing there is.

You’re thinking that this other world has people boiling in hot oil. The victims scream in pain as they’re pulled on a rack above a fiery pit. Shoved into an iron maiden and tightly locked away, with the spiked shadows etched on their faces. They’re never dying carcass put on a spit and rotated on flame of despair and ache until they were well-done and crispy.

You’re half right.

Granted, there aren’t pretty pink unicorns running around. The clouds aren’t made of cotton candy, and the flowers aren’t spun sugar. Demons, monsters, and minions don’t hold hands and sing Kumbaya together while roasting marshmallows on a roaring campfire, sharing heartwarming stories.

Although, that is a little closer.

That a world like ours existed beyond our vision, but where demons live much like we do, is surreal to most, perhaps to even you at the time. They have rich and vibrant lives, and were already in the ending years of their own renaissance. They were starting in on the new way of life, with a new royal family.

Much like your own world, they flourished in the new cultural movement. But even with paint on a canvass, they weren’t like us. Free thinkers, newer ideas, and inventions were fine if you had horns, wings, or the murkiest sense of wickedness.

Sadly, they were quite far from equal rights for everyone. They still had classes of people and what you fell into was the lowest class, and certainly the most different. And what was the difference you ask?

The only difference was cattle.

You’ll find out.

You didn’t know that, nor had you ever thought you would know about underworld sing-a-longs before. And if you did learn about it, it would be after you died. At least that’s what you were told. Why not believe it?

Would you really want to think that a living, breathing person would be taken to the bowels of a hellish, gleaming world of torture? Somewhere something lurked to deflower virgins in unspeakable ways. Creatures came out on moonlit nights to steal and eat babies. Delectable souls were snacked upon by ripping and snaring teeth of less-then holier beasts.

Of course you wouldn’t! Those are what nightmares are made up of; fear, agony, and unsightly acts on the dead or living. No one wants nightmares of that magnitude. Nightmares that would devourer you with razor sharp teeth.

But perhaps this wouldn’t be that kind of nightmare, or maybe it would be.

*~*~*~*~~*~*~**~~*~*~~**~~*

Your breath hitched painfully in your throat like a rock with jagged edges slowly crushing your windpipe.

“We give this sacrifice to you, our God! Our Master!” The apparent leader of the group held out a black, leather bond book in his hand. His face hid by a mask of a goat with horns that rose up and caught the light, his body clad in a red cloak with gold accents. The others around him wore sweating, waxy face covering to hide their true identity.

Biting down hard on the gag in your mouth, your teeth ached as you clamped your jaw tighter. Pulling at the bonds on the table, they cut deeper into your wrists.

Looking around the old meat cooler, you stared at the hooks that hung menacing from the ceiling. The aroma of stale blood and rotten meat and fat burned your eyes. Mold slowly expanded up the side of the wall, hiding the rusting steel shell.

“Calm yourself, (f/n).” A person said, resting his hands on your shoulders that tensed, your muscles bunched in defense. “This is for the greater good.”

Strangely the tears didn’t flow from your eyes like they should have. You were still in shock maybe?

You were dressed in your black polo from your work at the grocery store, still in black jeans and old sneakers. Even your name badge still on the left side of your chest, slowly moving up and down with each breath you pulled thru your nose. They hadn’t even removed your headphones that blocked some of the sounds.

You were going home, walking down the same worn sidewalk to your small apartment, just like every night. It was almost a blur as a rag covered your mouth, and you awoke in this candlelight room, surrounded by men wearing robes.

“We call on our King! Show yourself!” The leader beckoned again, and a dragger dancing in his hand that waited to stab your heart.

“Do you hear that?” Someone asked.

Your eyes scanned the room for the rhythmic tapping coming from the walls. The ambiance changed, the temperature dropped low. The candles flickered violently on their stands. The air became ranked with a stench and cloudy with a gas-like smoke.

Even the men that were summoning the unseen force seemed to straighten their bodies in fear. If you could have seen their faces, you would have known they looked panicked.

“Who dares to disturb me?” A voice bellowed, bouncing every inch of the room.

It felt like a knife shoving into your ear and you painfully cringed. How you wished you could cover your ears to help, even if the headphones gave some protection. The men dropped to their knees, covering their own like the pain was ten times worse.

“I asked you a question, peasants!”

Craning your neck, you looked at the men that were even more nervous than you. Trickles of blood covered their hands from the voice, slowly seeping between their fingers. Were your ears bleeding too?

The leader was lifted into the air and tossed into the far wall by an unseen force, his body flying in the air like a ball. He slammed against the metal wall with a groan as he slowly slid down. Leaving an imprint of his body in the steel, he glided down like a rag doll, and limply rested on the floor.

Leaving their leader, the others scrambled to their feet. They moved quickly to the door, knocking the other in front of them out of the way. Bones cracked and crunched as they finally got away.

The leader was dead, you stared as his neck that was wretched into a way that was unnatural. His mask was ajar from his face. You could see a small line of blood escape his pale lips and swirled down his chin.

“Humans,” a voice finally spoke into the stale air. “Humans are the weakest creatures on this plane of existence and mine.” A pair of boots stumped next to you and something materialized.

A set of gleaming teeth were first, then the rest of a strong body loomed over you. Two blue eyes calmly stared, with brushed back corn-yellow hair, mingled within two curling horns.

Your (e/c) eyes widened in shock, but you didn’t pull at the restraints to get away. There you stayed, perfectly still awaiting for your fate. Simple and silly thought ran thru your mind. Childhood memories, library books you forgot to return, and favorite foods. This must have been what they meant by your life flashing before your eyes.

“You aren’t scared?” He asked, as his hands slowly pulled at the leather restraints. “No…” his chuckled and his fingers lingered on your wrist, “…your pulse is racing.” And it was, like horses around a track with pounding hooves.

He pulled at your mouth gag, wickedly grinning at your trembling lips.

“You, my dear…” he said, lifting you up from the table, “…are going to have to do for my old friend. He’s turned everyone else down I’ve bought him.”

~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you awake?” Someone asked, dropping next to you on the bed. “How do you feel?”

You groaned, rolling over to face a small boy, well, it looked like a boy. Two gleaming blue eyes watched you on a smooth looking face. Looking past the normal features, you stared at the two black wings that folded to its back.

Reaching your hand up, you moved to tug at the extra appendages to see, if in fact they were real. He drew back from your touch, side stepping off the bed. The boy’s tail quickly flickered back and forth in irritation, along with his face scrunching in anger.

“I asked you a question.” He clicked his tongue and tightly crossed his arms over his chest. Knitting his thick eyebrows let you know that he was a demanding…whatever he was.

“I’m fine.” You said, sitting upright. To your surprise, you felt alright. Confused, but other than that you seemed to be well. “Where am I?” You asked, running your hands over your face, resting them over your eyes that seemed to have a hard time now adjusting to light.

“My name is Peter.” He smiled, taking a seat in the scarlet colored upholstery chair across from the bed. You seemed to be good at listening, he liked that. Finally he had someone that would listen to him.

You looked around the room and tried to place what motif this was. It looked like a room made for royalty. The crimson curtains were closed, hiding your view of the outside, although the room was brightly lit from the chandelier that hung from the middle of the room.

“Do you have a name?” He asked, studying you. “You weren’t born here, so you must. You’re not like the rest of the cattle.”

You snapped your head back at his choice of words. What did he mean by cattle? Something made you not want to ask, knowing what fate might be coming to you. Drawing in a breath of the sulfur air that smelled like burning matches, you ready yourself to ask the question. “What do you mean…”

“…what is your name?” He cut you off. “Those strange letters on that thing,” he pointed to his own chest, tapping his finger, “must be a name, right?”

“My name is (f/n),” you said, looking down at the name badge. “Where are we?” Watching the boy nervously twiddle his fingers you knew something was on the way.

You could hear voices that boomed loudly from outside the double bone white doors with bright gold handles. The voices on the opposite side sounded angry and sounded like you didn’t want to meet them. You especially didn’t want to if they were bigger version of this mini demon in front of you.

“(f/n),” Peter coolly said, as he rested his hands in his lap. “How would you like to be my bride? Demons can take cattle as wives.”

Your eyes widened, as you pushed yourself up a little farther on the massive amount of pillows. This kids, demon or not, was like twelve.

“I refuse to take a human as payment!” Someone screamed, tossing the doors open to the room. “I don’t need any more cattle!”

Whoever was there waited in the shadows of the hallway.

There was that word again; cattle. You bunched your hands in the fabric of the bedspread, how you wished you could run, but you didn’t know where to go.

“Alfred, this is payment for the three I killed earlier in the month during your coronation.” The familiar voice from the meat cooler now spoke, trailing close behind the first one. “I told you I’d make it up to you. And this, this is beyond payment. You'll have to really thank me later.”

You stared at the cream colored floor as two black dressed shoes came into view. Slowly you lifted your (e/c) eyes to take in the rest of what gave off an aura of annoyance. There stood a sandy blond haired man in a Louis Vuitton-like suit, glaring at you. You gawked at his black horns trimmed in gold upon his head. The wings on his back held tightly in place.

“Ludwig,” the now named demon, Alfred’s voice rose. “Take her back and give her to that damn Gilbert or even Ivan, I don’t want her.” Alfred glanced back at you, nervously pushing his glasses that slide down his nose up. Turning back, he started to protest to the blond fiend in front of him.

“They’ll hurt her!” Peter wailed, climbing onto the bed and grabbing your hand, pulling you closer to this small demon-like Romeo. “Alfred, can’t I just keep her?”

You gawked at the tanned demon that looked more like a beachgoer, then something of malevolence. His dusty blond mop of hair moved as he continued to speak to Ludwig, completely ignoring Peter. If it wasn’t for the bat-like wings, horns, and gleaming fangs he would have been considered handsome by any other standards and not a complete throw off.

The clearly German demon chuckled, as he heard the irritation increasing in the man’s voice. He waved a goodbye and parted with the usual German line, snapping his fingers loudly he was gone with a puff of smoke.

“Just peachy,” Alfred grumbled, slamming his hand into the door, cracking the thick wood. You drew back in fear at his strength, and why wouldn’t you? He was a demon.

“Bollocks!” A voice barked down the hallway, storming down to the room with a stream of obscenities coating the air.

“Great!” Alfred grunted. “Ludwig leaves me and now Arthur is up, this is just fan-fucking-tastic.”

The door slowly swung open on the bent hinges now, to show another creature. Tapping his foot slowly on the floor, his arms stayed across his chest.

“Alfred?” The third demon that stood on the edge of the room finally spoke. “Why are you yelling like a child? And who is that on your bed? Letting cattle into your room is far from that of royalty.”

It didn’t take a mastermind to figure out humans or whatever they considered you were cattle. You just weren’t sure what they did to cattle, and personally you didn’t want to find out.

“You…” the demon named Alfred snapped and walked quickly to you with an arrogant swagger, “…get off my bed.”

Immediately you were off the bed, standing on weak knees in front of the glasses clad demon. You gazed at him as he loomed over you like a bear ready to attack. Lowering your head, you wished to make yourself as small as possible.

“Her name is (f/n).” Peter cracked, shuffling over to where you stood and wedging himself between you and Alfred. He didn’t seem to have an ounce of fear, or common sense for that matter. Placing his balled fists on his hips and sticking his bottom lip out, he prepared to duel this miscreant.

What you didn’t know was this little lad had seen his share of humans slaughter at the hands of the older demons. Never had Alfred laid a hand on one, but he wouldn’t take the chances of you ending up impaled by one of Alfred’s fiery fists.

“Move, Peter.” Alfred order, short of grabbing himself and tossing him clear across the room. Placing his own hands on his hips, he cocked himself into a pose. “That’s an order.”

“I’m a prince!” Peter spat at him. “I’ve got just as much right, as you do, to say what happens to her, so back off.”

“Peter Kirkland.” The blond that hung by the door walked over and yanked on the ear of your defender, pulling him over to him. “You will not speak to Alfred like that. As much as you might not like the fact, he is our king.”

Alfred soon joined in, and all three were going around, raising their voice to out shadow the next.

Looking at the partially opened door, you didn’t realize you were running until you hit the black and white checkered floor in the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, but it really didn’t matter at the moment. If it wasn’t for the fact you were forcefully knocked into the wall, you probably would have found the energy and will to run until you collapsed by your own volition, but that didn’t happen.

Your eyes focused on the tip of the sword the rested on your throat, glittering from the golden wall sconces.

“Cattle found free range is death,” evenly said the demon.

Looking up, you bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming. Trying to control your breathing you focused on his piercing red eyes, almost as dangerous as the sword in his hands. Taking in his face you noted his smooth cheek bones and superficial smile, his platinum silver hair. His horns that twisted down from the side of his head, like thick vines of undergrowth in a forgotten forest.
Behind him stood one that was like a tree that no wind could knock over. The horns atop his head curled upwards, twisting towards the sky for warmth. His light blond hair and violet eyes stared with mystery at you.

“You’ve got no collar, nor do you look like one from the castle.” His smirk darkened, digging the tip of the weapon a bit deeper, readying his aim. “Have they picked such a weak thing to kill our king?”

You sucked in a breath and opened your mouth, finding suddenly your mouth was dry like cotton. “I don’t…I don’t belong here in Hell.”

“Hell?” He wheezed out a laugh, his not so steady hand shaking as he nicked your neck.

You winced at the warm dribble of blood, but the blade being so sharp, you wouldn’t have even know you’d been cut.

“This isn’t Hell, my dear.” He drew his weapon back and sat it back in the scabbard on his hip. Bowing down in front of you, he held out his hand. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Dia-Talamh.”

“Gilbert!” Alfred’s voice ricocheted off the walls. “Ivan!”

You looked back at the three that came storming down the hall. You couldn’t move quick enough to get away when you found yourself grabbed and slammed against the wall. You trembled from the pain, and wondered if you were shoved clear thru the wall.

Blinking a few times, you saw that the demon that was a stoic statue behind the red eyed one had you by the shirt and dangled you off the floor. His solid fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and bit into your skin. Finally a child like grin painted his face, his round cheek rose as he half listened to Alfred that barked orders to let you down.

Lowering himself down near your ear, he lashed out his tongue, rounding the delicate shell of it. “You would be safer thinking this is Hell, if I was you.” His hands uncoiled and skidded down the wall with a painful thump.

Peter rushed to your side, trying to help you to your feet. Hunching over, you found that you couldn’t stand. Every breath felt like slivers of glass, he must have broken a rib or two. You looked at Alfred that was nose to nose with the taller blond, verbally trying to tear him down. Ivan scoffed at him and waved his hand in the air.

“Da, I understand.” He said, turning to leave. “Stop killing the cattle or we won’t have any.”

“That isn’t what I said,” Alfred growled and stomped his foot. “Ask questions first…”

“…then kill them.” He laughed, trailing down the hallway.

“Gilbert, take her down to the others and get her something different to wear.” Alfred said, closing his sapphire blue eyes. “Just…just get her out of my sight.” Looking back at you, he gave the most pathetic look, if to half say sorry for the hospitably that you’d been welcomed with.

“This is what I mean, Alfred.” Arthur started to preach. “Peter, come along.”

“I’m a damn general and he has me doing grunt work.” Gilbert cursed under his breath. He marched down the hallway. Peter looked back at the two that walked near each other. Alfred bobbing his head to whatever Arthur was saying.

Alfred glanced back at you and Peter. He secretly shooed Peter away with his hand, while pretending to keep his attention on the fellow that read him the riot act.

“Gilbert…” Peter grumbled at the demon that was still complaining, “…come help her. I think she might be hurt.”

“General. I am a General, not a wet nurse to humans.” He snarled.

You fell forward, landing into his arms that scooped you up. Cradling you like precious porcelain, he heaved a sigh. “Let’s get her downstairs. I’m sure Francis and Antonio will be able to help. They do know more about humans than me.”

~*~*~*~~*~*~