111 - Why
Belial's silver eyes remained fixed on Mariana. For the first time since arriving, the man wasn't grinning. He simply looked... knowing. Like someone who had seen this story before. Unfortunately.
Mariana cleared her throat. "... I don't love him." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Belial blinked. Then laughed. Not a small laugh. Not a polite laugh. A full-bodied, absolutely delighted laugh that nearly sent him falling backward in his chair.
Mariana stared.
Belial wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, that's wonderful! Except... that is exactly what Lilith used to say."
Mariana frowned.
Belial leaned forward. "When she was still Crown Princess." His smile widened. "'I don't love him.'" The Emperor Consort deepened his voice in a terrible imitation. "'I would never fall in love with my father's shadow.'"
Mariana immediately knew who he meant.
Belial. Back then, before becoming Emperor Consort, he had been the late Emperor's shadow. The infamous monster standing behind the throne. The man everyone feared. The man Lilith supposedly hated.
Belial pointed dramatically at himself. "And now look at us."
Mariana resisted the urge to point out that everyone already looked at them. Mostly because they were one of the most famous couples on the continent.
Belial looked deeply offended. "We're happily married." A pause. "We have a son." Another pause. "A deeply concerning son, but a son nonetheless."
Mariana almost laughed. Almost.
Belial caught the twitch of her lips immediately. "Aha!"
"There was no aha."
"There absolutely was."
"There wasn't."
Belial looked victorious anyway. Then his expression softened slightly. "I'm not saying you're lying."
Mariana blinked.
The teasing vanished from his voice. "I'm saying that feelings are complicated." The Emperor Consort rested his chin on his hand. "And denying them tends to create problems."
Mariana looked away.
Belial noticed, of course he noticed. The man probably survived entirely on noticing things he shouldn't.
"If you genuinely don't love him," he said, "then you don't. But.
.." He continued. "If you keep suppressing every positive feeling you have because you're afraid of what it might mean.
.." His gaze sharpened. "You might realize your feelings only after you've fallen so deep that climbing back out becomes impossible. "
Mariana froze. The words struck harder than she wanted. Because lately—
No!!
She wasn't thinking about that.
Absolutely not.
Belial watched her expression carefully. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed again. "Though, to be fair." Mariana looked up. "My son isn't exactly easy to love."
"We-Well—"
"Actually, let's be honest." Belial counted on his fingers.
"Possessive." Another finger. "Overprotective.
" Another. "Terrible communication skills.
" Another. "Questionable understanding of personal freedom.
" Another. "An alarming tendency to solve emotional problems with political authority. " Mariana stared. Belial nodded. "Yes."
"You're literally describing him."
"I know."
"He's your son."
"I know."
"You're saying this very casually."
Belial shrugged. "I'm secure enough in my parenting to acknowledge reality."
Mariana snorted, actually snorted.
Belial looked incredibly pleased with himself. Then his expression turned thoughtful. "If you truly want advice..." Mariana immediately regretted letting him continue. Belial tapped the table. "Stop focusing on how he does things. Focus on why."
Mariana frowned.
Belial leaned back. "My son is terrible at expressing affection." A beat. "Catastrophically terrible." Mariana could not argue. "He often arrives at the right emotion through the wrong method."
That... actually sounds accurate.
"He doesn't always know how to show care.
" Belial smiled faintly. "But he always has a reason.
" Mariana remained silent. Belial continued.
"When he does something ridiculous—and trust me, he frequently does something ridiculous—ask yourself why he's doing it.
" He laughed softly. "The answer won't always excuse his behavior. But it will help you understand him."
For a few moments neither spoke. The wind drifted across the balcony.
Then Belial suddenly grinned. "Of course."
Mariana immediately became suspicious. "Of course... what?"
"I am also having tremendous fun watching the two of you." Belial's grin became evil. "The amount of mutual frustration is extraordinary. It's very entertaining. You should see yourselves."
Mariana wanted to throw her book at him. Suddenly, she understood something. The Pope—her great-grandfather. He had once described Belial as possessive. Dangerously possessive.
Mariana had always imagined something terrifying. A monster. A tyrant. A frightening man. Instead, she got this. A disaster. An ancient disaster. A very powerful ancient disaster.
Belial pointed at her. "You just compared me to someone."
Mariana nearly jumped. "What?"
"You made a face."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
Mariana looked away. Belial laughed.
Unfortunately, he was probably right. Because despite the humor and theatrics, she could see it. The possessiveness. The dangerous devotion.
The absolute certainty that if Lilith asked for the moon, Belial would immediately begin calculating how to steal it. No wonder Zafiel ended up like this. It was hereditary. A horrifying realization.
Belial stretched lazily. "Hm."
"What?"
"I think I'll stay longer."
Mariana blinked. "... why?"
The grin returned. "Because Zafiel should be returning soon."
Immediately, Mariana understood. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Absolutely yes."
Mariana sighed.
Belial looked delighted. "Please?"
"You're the Emperor Consort."
"That's not an answer."
Mariana stared. Belial stared back. Eventually she gave up. "... fine."
"Excellent!" Belial settled more comfortably into his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Mariana suddenly had a terrible feeling.
Several hours later, that terrible feeling proved justified. A servant arrived, whispered something urgently and immediately left.
Belial's grin became enormous. "Oh."
Mariana already knew. "He knows you're here?"
"He absolutely knows."
The Emperor Consort looked delighted. Mariana looked concerned.
Less than thirty minutes later, the door opened. Hard. Not slammed. Not kicked. Just opened with the unmistakable force of a man exercising considerable restraint. Zafiel stepped inside, his amethyst eyes immediately landed on Belial.
The room became colder. Mariana suddenly felt like she should leave.
The Crown Prince didn't even greet his father. "Father."
Belial waved. "Hello, son."
"What are you doing here?"
"Visiting."
Zafiel's gaze sharpened. "Why?"
"Because I wanted to."
Before Mariana could blink, Zafiel walked directly toward them. Then stopped directly between Mariana and Belial like a human wall. Mariana stared at the back of his uniform.
Belial looked delighted. "There it is."
Zafiel ignored him. "You're crossing boundaries."
Belial gasped dramatically. "I beg your pardon?"
"You should not be entering my residence uninvited."
Belial looked offended. "I entered through the balcony."
"That is not better."
"I disagree."
"It is literally worse."
Belial laughed.
Zafiel pinched the bridge of his nose. The gesture looked painfully familiar. "Father."
"Son."
"You are not helping."
Belial raised an eyebrow. "And locking Mariana inside the palace was helping?"
The room went silent. Zafiel froze. Mariana froze.
Belial looked victorious. "Checkmate."
The Crown Prince's expression darkened. "You promised Mother you wouldn't bring that up."
"Your mother isn't here."
"That's not how promises work."
Belial shrugged. "I never claimed to be honorable."
Mariana stared.
At least he was honest.
The argument continued. Back and forth. Relentlessly. Neither side willing to surrender. And Mariana slowly realized something horrifying.
They were exactly alike. Not physically. Not in personality... maybe they are. But in the way they argued. The way they pushed. The way they refused to retreat. It was like watching the same person debate himself.
Eventually Mariana quietly stood. Neither noticed.
Good, I can escape. Wonderful. Perfect.
She took one step. Two steps. Three—Belial looked at her. Zafiel also looked at her. Somehow simultaneously.
"We weren't finished."
Mariana pointed at herself. "Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Stay." That was Zafiel.
Belial nodded. "Stay."
Mariana looked from one man to the other. Then back again. The resemblance somehow became even more obvious.
This is ridiculous, completely ridiculous.
Yet somehow neither seemed willing to continue without her present. As though she were the audience. Or perhaps the referee. Or perhaps the prize, which was an uncomfortable thought.
Mariana sighed deeply. Then sat back down.
Immediately both men resumed arguing as if nothing had happened.
Belial accused Zafiel of being overprotective.
Zafiel accused Belial of being intrusive.
Belial brought up childhood stories. Zafiel threatened to reveal embarrassing stories involving Lilith.
Belial immediately retreated from that line of attack.
Mariana watched quietly. Occasionally sipping tea. Occasionally wondering how the Empire functioned at all.
And as the argument continued, for perhaps the first time, the palace felt strangely normal. Not because the people around her were normal. They absolutely were not.
But because beneath the titles and power and frightening reputations, they were simply a family. A deeply dysfunctional family. But a family nonetheless.
And as Zafiel argued with his father while Belial laughed at every opportunity, Mariana found herself hiding a smile behind her teacup. Neither man noticed.
Thankfully.
Because if they had, she suspected both of them would immediately become unbearable.