Summary: Kenna and Diavolos deal with the aftermath of the final battle and Luther.
Part 1 (PG-13) Part 2 (NSFW) Part 3 (NSFW)
Diavolos is no stranger to death. He has watched, too many times to count, while troops under his command were destroyed by massive armies and technology they’d never even dreamed of. He saw Baltair and Seoras bleed out in front of him, helpless and near death from his own injuries, while his troops dragged him to safety. After so many years and so many people dying in front of him, and Luther lecturing him about manning up and growing a backbone, Diavolos has learned the art of detachment. It comes as naturally as breathing now, his brain blocking out the loss and bloodshed and focusing instead on the next battle.
Until Kenna, he’d opened up to no one in a long time. He’d meant it when he told her that grieving in the Nevrakis family meant making everyone else around you as miserable as you were. That’s how it’s been for as long as he can remember. There were never fond memories shared, no time to mourn or cry – there was only angry yelling, bitter fights, and Luther threatening to beat them if he spotted so much as a tear.
Diavolos thought he preferred it that way. It was, in many ways, easier to remain unemotional and unfeeling. War didn’t make time for sadness. And then, Kenna had gotten him to open up, had genuinely listened, and it forced him to realize how much he kept bottled up. He had been surprised by the emotions that washed over him as he laid on her bed in the airship, and even more surprised that it was Kenna Rys that he finally shared those feelings with. Laying in his bed that night, he had the realization that maybe it was more painful to pretend not to feel anything.
Diavolos manages to keep his emotions in check during the final battle against the Iron Empire until Azura throws Kenna across the room and she collapses to the ground amongst the splinters of her throne. His throat aches with the effort of not screaming No!, muscles burning with the effort it takes not to run to her. He cannot, will not, let her die in front of him.
He wars between an almost all-consuming rage, wanting to murder the witch himself for doing this to Kenna, and an overwhelming sense of despair, as he watches Kenna try to drag herself to her feet. Diavolos feels himself start to shake, the backs of his eyes burning, breathing ragged, as Azura surrounds Kenna with her lightning arcs. He watches her struggle and forces himself not to run her, knowing Azura will simply kill him. He can feel his heart pounding as Kenna slumps over, unresponsive, and feels as if time has slowed to a crawl as she stops moving.
No, no, no…
Azura’s cackling laugh fills the room, drowned out seconds later by the screams and sobs of Kenna’s friends and allies.
“That’s unfortunate,” Luther says drily next him. “I was hoping she could at least manage to get rid of the witch for us.”
Diavolos blocks him out, staring at Kenna, as if he can will her back. He refuses to believe she’s gone, not after what she’s lived through…not after what she’s made him feel.
Get up, he chants silently, eyes locked on her still form. Get up, Kenna.
It runs through his head like a mantra, the deafening cries and shouts of disbelief and despair drowned out as he focuses on her. He feels like hours pass by, though he knows it must be only seconds, before he sees her twitch, just slightly.
His heart leaps, and then suddenly Kenna is on her feet, her voice a roar in Azura’s face as Kenna drives her sword into Azura’s stomach, and the witch drops to the ground.
Azura screams for Jorrin, for anyone, rages at her daughter helplessly…and then is gone.
The room erupts again, with cheers and applause this time, as people rush to Kenna. Diavolos wants nothing more than to run to her and wrap his arms around her. But she’s surrounded, and Luther is watching him carefully, so he refrains.
He manages to catch her eye as she’s assisted to her chambers, and she smiles at him, her face lighting up, despite the pain and exhaustion he knows she must feel. He watches her until she’s out of sight, immense relief washing over him.
~~~~~~~~~~
When Kenna makes it to her chambers, Annelyse and Dom attempt to insist on staying with her. She appreciates it, but she just wants to sleep.
They brush off her reasons at first, until Kenna finally sighs irritably and says, “I can’t sleep if you’re sitting there staring at me.”
Annelyse helps her remove her armor, and Kenna collapses into the bed in relief after she leaves. At first, she sleeps deeply, sheer exhaustion taking over as the adrenaline wears off and everything that has happened hits her at once. When she wakes, her room is dark but for the orange glow of the fire.
She’s stiff and sore as she stands and stretches, grimacing as her muscles scream in protest. She returns to bed and lays there for a while, thinking about nothing in particular, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. It’s strange, not having to worry about Azura, or battle plans, or who might die tomorrow. Her life has been so consumed with battles and war for the past three years, that it’s hard to think about other things. She smiles a little as random thoughts cross her mind, like what she wants for breakfast tomorrow, or what to name the new foal that was born recently.
Her thoughts turn to Diavolos, that smug grin flashing into her mind and making her smile. Closing her eyes, she lets memories of him wash over her…his lips against hers, his hands caressing her bare skin, the way he looks at her that makes her heart beat a little faster.
Kenna wonders where they’ll go from here, now that the war is over. She assumes he’ll return to Abanthus, and her heart sinks at the thought. For a second, she wonders what he would say if she asked him to stay in Stormholt. Luther would never allow it, but she gets the feeling lately that Diavolos cares less and less about what his father thinks.
Her eyelids grow heavy as she lays there, despite her efforts to keep them open, and she lets herself sink back into a deep slumber.
When Kenna wakes again, it’s early morning. She should probably try to sleep longer, but she’s antsy and can’t bring herself to keep laying in bed. She rushes to get dressed, but her body protests her rapid movements. Hells, but she’s sore. She reminds herself to talk to Annelyse and Madeline, to see if there’s anything they can do so she’s not hobbling around at the banquet tonight.
Stepping into the throne room, Kenna is surprised to find it quiet and empty. She’s been so used to it being full of people that it’s strange being there alone. The room is mostly picked up from her showdown with Azura the previous day, the pieces of her shattered throne stacked neatly to the side.
As she surveys the room, her thoughts drift to her mother, and she feels a rush of sadness that she isn’t here. She hopes her mother would be proud of what she’s accomplished, even if she didn’t go about things in the most conventional way. Kenna finds herself talking aloud, wishing her mother could answer.
She’s interrupted by Luther’s voice saying, “How touching”, and turns to see him entering the throne room. He’s alone, and it puts her on guard, remembering Diavolos’ vow to keep her safe. She’d assumed he meant Luther was planning something against her.
She keeps her voice and expression calm as she greets him. “Luther. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He steps closer and she fights the urge to put more space between them. The look on his face is making her nervous.
“I wanted to congratulate you, of course. You vanished so quickly after the battle yesterday, I didn’t have a chance to pay my respects,” Luther says off-handedly.
He continues to step closer to her, and Kenna knows for certain now that he undoubtedly has something planned, and wonders if she’d be able to step around him quickly enough to get away.
“You want to pay me respect? This will be new.” Her voice quivers just slightly as she eyes the doors to the throne room. They’re closed, and nowhere near the living quarters, so even if she screams, no one will hear her. Kenna’s heart starts thumping loudly.
“Hardly. After everything you’ve accomplished these past few years, I have a great deal of respect for you. Just as I did for your mother.”
No…
“Like I’ve said before…this is nothing personal.”
Kenna attempts to whirl away from him, but she’s not quite quick enough, Luther’s dagger plunging into her shoulder in an instant as she lets out an involuntary yelp of pain.
She manages to slam her good elbow into Luther’s face, her wounded shoulder screaming with agony as blood pours down her arm.
“You snake,” she gasps angrily, stumbling backwards a few steps. “Was this your plan all along?”
“Ever since you locked me in that dungeon. Thank you for killing Azura for me, by the way.” Luther looks at her calmly, coldly, gingerly feeling his chin where she hit him.
Kenna grits her teeth against the blooming pain in her shoulder. She’s enraged, at Luther, yes, but also at herself, for not expecting this. Diavolos had warned her against this, and she’d believed him, but with Azura finally dead, she’d let her guard slip just enough to allow Luther to sneak in like this.
She’s about to tell him that the Five Kingdoms will never unite under him and his tyranny, when the throne room doors suddenly slam open. Kenna and Luther both jump, and Kenna hisses in pain as it jostles the dagger still in her shoulder. She yanks it out and looks up.
Diavolos is standing there, looking briefly surprised, and then furious as he looks at her, and then Luther.
Luther smirks. “Diavo-ahhh!” he shouts, clutching his now bleeding leg. Diavolos has sliced Luther’s leg open with his sword, Kenna realizes as she tosses the dagger behind her. Luther curses angrily as blood drips down his leg.
Diavolos catches her eye, frowning at the blood dripping down her arm.
“You feeling good enough to fight?” he asks.
She is, would love nothing more than to watch Luther pay for what he’s done to her, but she wants it for Diavolos more. After a lifetime of dealing with this man and his cruel abuse and mind games, Diavolos should be the one to put an end to it.
Kenna shakes her head. “You should fight him,” she says.
Diavolos nods swiftly. “Take a seat, Your Majesty. This won’t take a minute.”
He faces Luther, bringing his sword in front of him.
Luther glares at him, blood seeping between his fingers as he presses against the wound on his leg. “Don’t think I won’t put you down for this, you ungrateful fool,” he rages.
Diavolos brings just the tip of his sword to Luther’s chest.
“You’re wrong, Father,” he says. “I’m very grateful.”
Luther grabs his sword, and Diavolos pushes the blade off to the side easily with his own.
“I’m grateful for those few years before Mother died, when you were a real father to me…”
Luther jabs his sword forward, and Diavolos dodges the blade with ease, then slams it aside with his own. He kicks Luther deftly, and Luther drops to the ground, cursing and grabbing the wound on his leg again, now bleeding more profusely.
“I’m grateful that your neglect and cruelty pushed me to become the formidable warrior I am today,” Diavolos continues.
Luther’s face is red with anger as he takes one last swing, Diavolos disarming him easily. Diavolos leans down, his eyes dark, mouth an angry line.
“But mostly…I’m grateful that I’m the one who will be your undoing.”
Diavolos rests his sword on the side of Luther’s neck, Luther’s face twisting into a smile.
“Well, well…I wondered if you would ever scrounge up the courage to challenge me. I’m proud of you, my son.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Diavolos doesn’t even hesitate before he swings his sword into Luther’s neck, severing his head. Diavolos stares at his father’s body, looking stunned momentarily, then looks at Kenna.
Kenna is in disbelief that Luther Nevrakis is dead in her throne room, by his own son’s hand. She approaches Diavolos quietly, resting her good hand on his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“I…I think so,” Diavolos says slowly. He slides his arm around her back, pulling her close. “Twisted as it sounds, I think this is what he wanted.”
He brings his hand up to her inured shoulder gently, his brow creasing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this. I told you I’d keep you safe-”
“You did,” Kenna murmurs, leaning into him, his warmth and his strength soothing her. “He would have killed me.”
She drops her forehead to his shoulder, exhausted.
“Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary,” Diavolos says.
“Good idea,” Kenna mumbles, leaning on his arm as he helps her out of the throne room.
~~~~~~~~~~
When Kenna’s shoulder is stitched up, and Madeline has given her some herbs for pain relief and a lecture on not getting any more stab wounds until this one is healed, Diavolos helps her back to her room. She’s obviously exhausted, stumbling a little, so he finally stops and scoops her up.
She protests that she’s more than capable of walking as he adjusts his grip under her legs and around her back.
“It will take all day to get there at this rate,” he points out.
She grumbles once, half-heartedly, then allows herself to relax into him, her arms looped around his neck. She nuzzles against his neck and sighs quietly as they enter her room and Diavolos sets her down.
Her face contorts into a grimace as she attempts to pull her top off.
“Want some help?” Diavolos offers.
She grins at him. “You just want me to take my clothes off,” she teases him.
He shakes his head, smirking. “Kenna, as much as I want you – and you know that I want you – you need to rest.”
Kenna sighs. “I know.”
Diavolos kisses her sweetly, then turns to leave, telling her he’ll see her at the banquet. She tugs at his hand gently, her fingers lightly touching the inside of his wrist.
He looks at her curiously.
“Will you stay?” she asks quietly.
“As you wish,” he says, pressing a kiss to her hair.
He helps her undress, his hands surprisingly gentle. She giggles as he helps her pull her pants over her feet, and he looks up in amusement, realizing he’s eye level with her hips.
“You’re insatiable,” he laughs.
“Only when it comes to you,” she promises, and damn if that doesn’t make his ego swell.
He straightens up, fixing her with a stern look and pointing to the bed. “Get in the bed, Kenna.”
She raises an eyebrow, challenging him, then leans in and whispers teasingly, “Yes, Diavolos.”
She’s going to be the death of him.
He tugs his shirt over his head and climbs into the bed next to her. There isn’t a position that’s really comfortable with the stitches in her shoulder pulling with her every movement. She winces as she fidgets, trying to get settled.
Finally, Diavolos nudges her gently onto her good side, mindful of her injured shoulder as he slides behind her. He rests an arm around her waist, his leg in between hers, and presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder.
“How’s this?” he asks, his voice a rumble against her back.
“Mmm…good,” she mumbles sleepily.
Her breathing evens out, and he thinks she’s asleep when she suddenly says, “I knew I was right.”
“About what?”
“I knew you’d cuddle if I asked you.” He can sense the smile in her voice.
Diavolos shakes his head against her, grinning. “Only for you, Kenna. Now go to sleep.”
~~~~~~~~~~
She’s awoken by the bed shifting next to her, then Diavolos’ hand brushing hair out of her face. They’ve shifted while they slept, Kenna on her back and Diavolos on his side, facing her.
She turns into him and sighs sleepily as his lips brush over hers.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs. “I’m going to get ready for the banquet.”
She opens her eyes and stretches, wincing as her stitches catch. Diavolos’ hand is warm and gentle as he rests it next to her wound.
Kenna threads her hand into his hair, leaning in to kiss him. It becomes heated quickly, Kenna pressing into him and Diavolos groaning against her mouth before he pulls away.
“If you say we can’t do anything because of my shoulder, I will hit you,” she threatens.
Diavolos smirks. “No. I’m saying we can’t do anything because while you can be late to your own banquet, it might look suspicious if I am also late.”
Kenna sighs in mock irritation. “You’re no fun.”
“Oh,” he says in a low voice. “I’m fun. You know I’m fun.”
Her face heats up. Damn his ability to always leave her speechless with his suggestive comments.
Diavolos grins as he climbs out of bed and tugs his shirt on.
Kenna sits up, watching him. “Diavolos?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think the people of Abanthus will support you as king?”
Diavolos sits on the edge of the bed, considering her.
“Maybe. I am the eldest, and I haven’t forced any of the powerful families’ relatives to fight to the death like Zenobia…but I don’t know if they see me as ‘king’ material.”
Kenna nods, untangling her legs from the blanket to sit next to him. She slides her hand into his.
“What if you were already a king?”
His grip on her hand tightens as he turns to face her. A slow smile crosses his face.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she answers, smiling as he lifts her up and settles her on his lap.
“Positive? I figured you’d ask Tevan-”
Kenna snorts out a laugh as he kisses her.
“-or Dom-”
“Hmm…” she says, pretending to consider it as he gently bites her neck.
“-or Raydan-”
“No…” she sighs as he kisses across her collarbone.
“-or Val-”
“Stop talking,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
“Banquet,” he reminds her between kisses.
Kenna groans in frustration. “You started this.”
“I did,” he agrees. “And I’ll finish it…after the banquet.”
“Promise?”
He stands and pulls Kenna to her feet, his mouth gentle against hers. “Yes, my love, I promise.”
Her heart flutters at the “my love”. She wonders if he even realizes what he said, but considering the surprised look that’s on his face for a split second, followed by the cocky grin, he does.
“I’ll see you at the banquet,” she murmurs, stealing one last kiss before Diavolos heads out her door.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he says, then smiles at her smugly before leaning in and whispering, “My love” into her ear.
Kenna watches him walk away, cheeks flushed and a smile splitting her face, then turns back into her room.
She has a banquet to prepare for, and an announcement she can’t wait to make.