Belial was Pride and Pride was Belial. Even in the submission, it was matter of wounded arrogance, one that would be avenged in the Hatter’s scheming head, a love so sullied and so conditional that burnt the dark soul of the Satan.

Sie smiled and complied to Lucifer’s wishes, noticing hir companion was silent, observing the exchange.

“Someone who is perfect doesn’t need flattery to adorn his title, my Lord,” Hatter honestly uttered. It wasn’t flattery, it wasn’t a lie, his image was flawless in the demon’s mind. A pedestal no one would reach. “You left us again. Why? You are Hell, Lord. Yet you walk away from it as if it had no value to you.”

It wasn’t an accusation but a statement. Belial wanted to know his reasons.

“Is there perhaps something or someone whose worth surpass your kingdom, your legion of vassals and your hundred of brides?”