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Your people are starving.
Every day they get leaner and leaner, every day more die.
At least in death they can escape the all consuming hunger, at least death has not forsaken them.
The only hope they have is trade with the humans.
The best of your ore for whatever trash they pretended wasn't just their scraps.
Trade with those that laugh at you and your kind’s misfortune, those who curse your kind for the crime of existing, who give you half rotten produce, who spit at you and sneer.
You bow your horned head and ignore the spit on your face.
Your people need food and for them you will face any hardship.
____________________
You were the youngest son of the king, naive and carefree in the way that only someone never destined for the crown can be.
You used to be part of a family.
Brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, all used to roam the halls of your home.
The humans killed them.
The king had gotten too greedy, they said. Too power hungry, they said.
To your knowledge, all your father had done was try to establish an alliance with the nation on the other side of the holy kingdom.
They left the throne to you, the youngest, the weakest.
The easiest to defeat should the urge strike them again.
You used to be loved now you are alone.
You don't permit yourself to dwell on it.
Your people are starving.
_________________________
The sun does not shine on your lands. Forsaking your kind long ago.
No impression of its warmth persists in your memory nor in the ancient histories of your people.
Crops do not grow here, they never had and you doubt they ever will.
Spells that can replicate the sun's rays belong to humans.
A demon can learn those spells, but to do so they would have to venture into human academies and learn as students.
The humans would never allow it.
Many demon kings have tried to get even one demon accepted into those hallowed halls.
One even succeeded.
The young demon was returned in a coffin.
‘An unfortunate incident’ the humans said.
‘Lies’ Your kind whispered.
The message was clear.
No more demons were sent. And none volunteered.
You looked out towards your barren lands, soaked with water and covered with dark clouds.
At least the rain had not abandoned your people.
It was amongst the few.
_____________________
The holy kingdom was the one that sat at the eastern border of your nation. The only side not battered by the untameable seas.
All of your kind's trade had to go through them; confined to the merchant town that sprung up within the ruins of your old capital.
They barred any of your people from so much as looking at the border.
It was something they pretended to accept humbly.
"It is our duty to protect the world from such unsavoury creatures,” they told the other nations.
You looked at the illustrations of the priests with jewel encrusted robes and the current king who had had four of his illegitimate children disposed of and you wondered if they saw the hypocrisy.
____________________
A prophecy had been issued by the church.
A saintess will be born to defeat the demon king or some such drivel.
You had laughed like a mad man when you heard it from your aide.
If you listened closely you could almost hear the funeral bells.
____________________
Almost all trade agreements were terminated.
They didn't wish to associate with ‘monsters’ and ‘abominations’
All that was left were the greediest of souls, the ones that wished to drain your kingdom of anything of value before its supposed end.
You couldn't afford to be picky.
Your people were starving.
____________________
The church's words had made your council uneasy, an heir was needed they cried for what if the last of their royalty died?
And you, dutiful as ever, married your love.
You held your son, so tiny and fragile.
His red eyes peered up at you with misplaced trust.
You wanted to cry.
Your son will starve.
______________________
Once or twice you entertained the thought of praying to the goddess for mercy only to immediately cast the thought aside.
She had shown who her favourites were long ago.
_______________________
Your aide was never meant to be your aide.
He was once promised to be your eldest brother's right hand, not yours.
They were close, you remembered in your hazy memories, closer than friends.
You and everyone else in the kingdom knew they were destined to do great things together, things changed.
But despite being saddled with a lacking king, your aide never complained.
He worried for you.
You wanted to tell him not to, you were just a dead man walking.
____________________
You told your son all you knew, until your throat felt like it would bleed.
You told him of your brave sisters and ambitious brothers, of bright and brilliant nephews and nieces, of grandparents he would never meet.
Of a stupid youngest prince who did incredibly reckless stunts to impress the love of his life.
He loved those stories best, so did your wife.
You tried to tell him all that you could.
For the march of time continued on, and your end was approaching.
__________________
You loved your wife.
Had loved her the moment you saw her standing across the ballroom, looking for all the world bored and wanting to be elsewhere, all those years ago.
You had gathered the fleeting pieces of your courage, fused it together with sheer will, and asked her to dance.
To your ongoing surprise, she said yes.
From that point onwards it was less of a ‘falling’ in love and more ‘stumbling blindly downwards’ in love.
Your wife died in your son's twelfth year of life.
Humans had attacked her carriage with the suspicion that it was a weapons shipment for the troops you supposedly had.
The holy kingdom's ruler sent his deepest, insincere, condolences with a promise that the offending party would be dealt with to the best of his ability.
You did not hold your breath for that but were forced to listen to their celebrations for twelve days and nights.
In all the confusion and pain and yelling and grief and rage of your wife's passing you couldn't help but be the littlest bit glad.
If she was dead she wouldn't have to see what came next.
_________________
The news came on a good day, or what passed for a good day in the demon world.
The saintess had been found, your messenger who had run all the way from the border told you, almost collapsing from exhaustion, she was attending the holy kingdom's best academy with the nation's heirs.
You wanted to scream.
You wanted to laugh.
You wanted to cry.
Instead you looked at your son.
He was your spitting image, horns that had just come in and a new set of adult teeth, sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones, dark hair and skinnier than he should have ever been.
He was only seventeen, three years older than you were when you took the throne.
You told your aide, your oldest and dearest friend, to take him to the farthest corner of your domain and wait until it was safe to return, whether you were alive or dead.
Your aide met this order with defiance, arguing for seven days straight before bowing to the whims of his king.
He went unwillingly, dragging along an equally unwilling prince that wanted to stay and help.
You didn't care if they hated you for ordering them away.
They were the last of your loved ones and with your dying breath you would ensure they remained safe.
__________________
Your end came about at the hands of a teenage girl.
Her and her party of young heirs tore through your castle, laying waste to the loyalest of your guard, the ones that stayed to protect you even after being dismissed.
You didn't want them to get killed for standing in the way of the goddesses' favourites, but they were the most stubborn and steadfast demons you had ever met.
You lay dying in a pool of your own blood, each wheezing breath bringing you closer to your deceased kin.
The holy kingdom’s crown prince stood above you, self-righteous and arrogant in his victory, you didn't put up much of a fight, far more keen to get this whole farce over with, so you didn't know what he was being so smug about.
The saintess lurked a little ways back, she looked uncertain clutching her staff to her chest, as if the reality of what she was doing had finally sunk in.
The party's mage and duke fussed over her, both were ignored as she stared straight ahead, neither seemed put out by it and you belatedly wondered if this was the norm for them.
Ah, well, it hardly mattered to you.
You were dying after all.
And with your death the holy kingdom would resume trade with your nation out of the goodness of their heart and your people would have food once again.
With the prince monologuing about ‘evil acts’ and ‘your reign ends here’ you stared into the saintess’ uneasy eyes and the last thing you wondered was if she saw how tragically funny this all was too.
______________
The demon king had a family once, he knew that objectively but he was always shocked with that fact.
He had a mother and father who loved him, perhaps once he would have had more but that was before his time.
Now all he had was his aide, his almost uncle if his father's stories could be believed.
Apart from that, he was alone.
He didn’t dwell on it.
His people were starving.