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***Nearly Two Years Ago***

Malphas jolted awake from his sound slumber when he heard a noise from downstairs. He was sleeping lightly; Hera, his gray-dappled mare, was to drop a foal any day now, and he needed to oversee her labor and ensure that there were no complications. The demon had tucked himself into bed almost fully dressed so he would be prepared, should he hear her giving birth tonight.

Sharp ears twitched towards the sounds, and strained to listen; a metallic rattle- he recognized it as the chain lock of his front door, followed by the thud of it being closed. Quiet footsteps padded across the wooden floor, and grew closer...then they halted at the foot of the stairs. Malphas' pulse kicked and his blood heated with rage.

An intruder; the Devil swallowed a growl. Who the Hell would be stupid enough to trespass on his property? Much less break into his house?

'Someone is going to die. I swear, if they dared to touch Hera...'

He slipped over his satin sheets and slid out of bed as silently as possible, taking care to not allow the broad spikes of his tail to catch and tear them. Then the scent hit him like a freight train; the smoke of wildfire, dark spice and scorched sandalwood.

Comfort. Home.

Not intruders.

Demiurge.

Malphas' rage instantly evaporated like morning dew in the glaring sunlight, and he hurried downstairs to find his brother.

The Guardian of the Seventh Floor sagged against the wall and his legs trembled beneath him, and he smelled strongly of distressed sweat and sharp anxiety. His hair was disheveled from its usual slick styling and his normally flawlessly pressed suit was in wrinkled disarray. Dark circles gathered like storm clouds beneath his spectacles. Demiurge looked weary, as though he had not slept in a week or two.

The younger Devil's eyes were desperate, pleading.

A spider-legged chill crawled up Malphas' spine and spread to the rest of his body at an alarming speed. Demiurge looked injured, as if he couldn't even support his own weight.

"Demiurge! Are you alright?" Malphas rushed to his side.

"No..." He whined, and his jaw clenched. "Hurts..."

The demon's lips peeled back to bare ivory fangs, and Demiurge then collapsed to his knees, and Malphas felt his heart nose-dive with him into an icy lake of fear.

"What's wrong?!" Malphas didn't smell blood. He wasn't wounded, that he could see, but he was obviously in agony. "What hurts?"

"Everything!" Demiurge bit out as a full body shudder violently wracked through his frame.

Malphas dropped to knees beside him and frantically shifted his vermilion pin-striped suit around as looked him over; cobalt eyes raked over his body for signs physical damage, and when they landed on the straining tent of his trousers, monumental relief washed over him.

'Oh.'

"How long?" Malphas sighed.

Demiurge glared furiously at his accusation.

"How long what?" He spat.

The venom in his voice would naturally piss Malphas off, but the elder demon let it go, as he knew his brother wasn't in his right mind. The Seventh Floor Guardian was in the height of withdrawal.

Why Demiurge didn't ask him for help sooner was beyond him; though he felt he could safely assume pride was the likely culprit.

"How long have you been without?" Malphas specified. "You don't have to lie to me, brother. Playing dumb doesn't suit you in the least."

Demiurge huffed and averted his eyes; Malphas' sapphire gaze made him feel naked, in the worst way. But Malphas was right. There was no hiding what ailed him. He swallowed the growing and guilty lump in his throat.

"Three weeks." Demiurge confessed, and his face pinched into an embarrassed scowl.

"Hades, Demiurge!" Malphas ran his claws through his hair. "Why so long? You know two weeks is the minimum we can safely withstand." He scolded him.

"I know..." Demiurge's ears flattened against his head and he whimpered like a kicked dog as a fresh wave of searing pain ripped through him, twisting Malphas' heart in knots. "My work has absorbed all of my time lately...I-I should have-"

Demiurge's jaw tightened as he clenched his fangs, and his tail curled tightly like a leaf drying in the baking sun.

"Help me..." He whimpered a plea, and his chest heaved. "P-...Please, Malphas..."

Malphas rose to his feet, and canted his head in gesture to follow. "Come on."

Demiurge struggled to stand; his legs as unsteady as a newborn fawn's. He was growing worse by the minute.

'For Hell's sake.'

The elder Devil hauled him up off the ground, and gathered his legs under his arm to carry him bridal style, and started up the stairs.

"Put me down, you great oaf!" Demiurge snarled and weakly thrashed; he felt beyond undignified being carried like a child. "I'll crawl if I have to!"

"Like Hell, you will!" Malphas spat back, but couldn't help how one side of his mouth curled in a half-smile at the pompous nature of the insult. "You are in no condition. You came to me for help, so kindly shut up and allow me take care of you."

Demiurge glowered at him, but he did bite his tongue. With a nervous swallow, his diamond eyes fell to the buttons of Malphas' shirt, and how they stressed to remain fastened across the ridiculously _broad_expanse of his chest. His eyes traveled up to the thick cords of his neck, and his mouth watered with how desperately he wanted to sink his teeth into them.

Malphas brought Demiurge to his bedroom, and deposited him on his emperor-sized bed. He took his brother's face carefully between his massive hands and met his eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

"Other than the usual agony associated with a lengthy withdrawal, no." Demiurge replied dryly.

Malphas gave him a curt nod before he strode to the bathroom. Demiurge heard the wet patter of water on porcelain; he must have turned on the shower. The elder Demon returned shortly after, and had removed his shirt. A hot wave a desire tore through him at the sight of Malphas' massive shoulders and chiseled bare chest, and Demiurge doubled over in pain.

His tail rattled in agony. It hurt like Hell to go so long without shared sexual contact, but it was excruciating to be in the presence of the one who could give him what he so desperately needed. The mere sight of his brother made raw need scream from every pore, and no potion nor magic could take the edge off; it would not be satiated until Malphas touched him.

Demiurge hated it. He hated to be this needy, to be utterly helpless and ruled by his own biology.

The first week without was manageable. He put off his need and continued working and took care of himself with little fuss. On the fourth day, he knew it was getting worse when he felt a sensation of prickly insect legs crawling over his skin and his blood running too hot. On the sixth day, masturbation no longer quelled his arousal, but merely held it at bay. His thoughts continued to drift to carnal desires, and at the most inappropriate times; he ached for the sensation of Malphas burying himself deep inside him, yearned for the wet heat of his tongue running over his shaft. Demiurge remembered their pounding hearts and open mouths as they found a rhythm-- until they were breathless and gasping.... there was something he was supposed to be focusing on...what was that report regarding again?

It was nearly impossible to keep his attention nailed to his work by the second week. He was constantly distracted.

To make things worse, he could not sleep. He laid shaking wretchedly in bed, burning up inside but his flesh freezing, his stomach a roiling ocean and his body screaming for the only thing which could relieve him.

His focus then shifted to the nearest Alpha male.

Every time he laid eyes on Lord Ainz, he was instantly hard; his heart thrummed in his chest and he had to swallow often with how his mouth watered. The demon attended meetings with his shaft tucked between the waistband of his trousers so his annoying...problem would go unnoticed.

He tried not to stare at the Elder Lich for longer than necessary, tried not to imagine the black silk of his robes sliding over his bare back. Tried not to imagine how his voice would darken as it huffed in his ear when he bent him over his throne, how it would feel to have his bony fingers wrapped around the back of his neck-

'Fuck.' He wanted Lord Ainz to do filthy, unspeakable things to him.

Demiurge hoped to everything unholy that no one saw the blush which no doubt crept up his neck during the meeting.

On the nineteenth day the pain came. An agony like no other, it seared through him like a holy blade. Feverish chills wracked his body and every muscle cramped and ached that night. He could tell no one, because he did not trust himself with another (male or female) in a closed room. Not only that, but he feared he may be relieved of duty until he had control of himself. He did not dare do anything which may cause his Lord to question his competence.

At last, Demiurge caved; he flew to Malphas' home after midnight in hopes that his brother would grant him salvation.

"Can you undress yourself?" Malphas asked as he began to unbuckle his belt.

"Of course, I'm not a fucking child." Demiurge growled irritably as he righted himself, and began unfastening the buttons of his shirt as if to prove it to him. Withdrawal had reduced his normally flawless dexterity to fumbling hands, but he still managed.

"Then watch your attitude, or I'll spank you like one." Malphas hurled back with an expression that was dangerous and unimpressed, which he sharpened with a narrowing of his sapphire eyes; he was an immovable force, seemingly fearless. He never shied away from the challenges Demiurge presented.

"Now, get your ass in here and shower."

A sharp thrill skittered up Demiurge's spine as Malphas' voice took on the snap of command. Every atom of his being was screaming for what Malphas could give him.

Demiurge stripped down as quickly as possible, and with his teeth clenched and feet heavy, he managed to clamber off the massive bed and drug himself to the bathroom, and joined Malphas in the shower. He positioned himself under the falling water with a shaky sigh, allowing the steamy rivulets to soak into his skin. The Seventh Floor Guardian leaned against the cool tile when his weakened legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

Malphas stepped up behind him, and took Demiurge's hips in his hands, and pulled him back against his own body, allowing himself to be his pillar of support.

Flames of raw excitement licked up low in Demiurge's belly at the promise of a fix. The elder Devil's hands stroked up his sides, up over his biceps and one reached for his throat, and gently squeezed. Demiurge's breath hitched when Malphas dropped his head into the crook of his neck and shoulder to nip him with his fangs.

"Do not ever scare me like that again. I thought the worst." Malphas admonished him before tenderly biting the tendons of his neck, earning a soft hum of pleasure.

"Forgive me. I should have come to you sooner." Demiurge apologized, much to Malphas' surprise, and their tails found one another.

"Yes, you should have. I would have helped you; you need only to ask."

Demiurge's eyes rolled back when Malphas' teeth teased his ear. The heavy hand on Demiurge's hip moved to wrapped around his straining erection and gave him a few languid pumps, and the moan the shorter demon let out was simply obscene.

"You're so hard..."Malphas rumbled in his ear, loving how thick and heavy Demiurge's cock was in his grasp. "You must be terribly pent up."

Demiurge's hips jerked, pushing into the elder Devil's hand in desperation when the rough pad of Malphas' thumb smoothed over the gleaming head, flushed angry purple and hot with arousal.

"I am..." He admitted with a breathy gasp when the thick digit smeared the pearl of pre-come over the aching tip.

Fuck, that sound on his lips...a thorny vine of guilt twisted around Malphas' heart. Demiurge was rarely this needy, and the circumstances were far from ideal, but nevertheless, it preened at the Alpha in him. His other half needed him, needed what only he could give him.

Malphas brought his thumb to Demiurge's mouth, and brushed it over his lower lip to encourage him to open. Demiurge eagerly complied, and coiled his tongue around the digit before drawing it between his lips, tasting himself with a hungry suck. The sharp inhale that ghosted over Demiurge's ear, how Malphas' chest expanded against his back made his stomach swoop.

"What is your body telling you?" The massive demon's voice took on the smoothness of black velvet, thick with desire. "Do you need to fuck, or be fucked?"

The younger demon let his older brother's thumb pop out of his mouth.

"Take me." Demiurge hissed. "Please..."

"Please what?" Malphas continued to stroke him, and his brother's abdomen clenched with every pull of Malphas' fist.

"Please," He whined, and felt Malphas' lips curve into a grin against his skin. "Please, Alpha..."

Demiurge suddenly found himself slammed face-forward against the cool tile; a massive hand curled cruelly into his hair.

"That's more like it." Malphas growled huskily. "How hard?"

"RUIN me." Demiurge dared him, his words edged with wild desperation, and Malphas engulfed him like a wildfire; his hands were everywhere as he licked the side of his face roughly.

With one swift movement, Malphas reached down and seized Demiurge up under his arms to crush him into the wall.

Malphas then hoisted Demiurge two heads higher than his, to have him to have him wrap his legs around his waist, their tails coiling around them to hold their joining form more securely. He settled his thick ruby knob at the smaller demon's furled entrance and his celestial eyes seared into his brother's like cold fire.

Malphas pushed until the ring of muscle gave way- the older Arch Devil froze at his brother's animalistic snarl and gasping pant of pained pleasure. Demiurge's hands slammed onto Malphas' shoulders as he braced against the sweet, fierce ache ripping through his backside. This sometimes worried Malphas, how Demiurge refused to ever use lubricant; he relished the pain associated with their coupling, and would gladly sacrifice safety for masochistic pleasure. Malphas slid in slowly, and Demiurge's insides gripped him every inch of the way, squeezing around his shaft as his greedy little hole was gradually fed eight inches of hot steel.

There were no words to paint the ecstasy that bloomed through Demiurge's veins when his hips were flush with Malphas', at last giving him the relief he so desperately needed. He felt it in every nerve ending; a potent, swirling euphoria- the balm to the blistering fire of withdrawal that was almost too much to bear.

Demiurge writhed in rapture, so full of the elder Devil and yet, he still whined for more-- and Malphas had to remind himself to be go slow. To let him adjust, lest he risk injuring him.

Malphas lowered both hands downward to cradle his rear and began to carefully lift him, capturing his lips with his as he tried to pull out, but Demiurge's slick channel clutched at him, determined to keep him rooted deep inside. He was tight as a vice, his internal heat like molten lava. As Malphas shifted, the angle deepened and he settled more comfortably into him, sliding in and out lazily.

The slow, thick drag as Malphas withdrew and surged back in made Demiurge dig his claws into the thick pads of muscle that made up his brother's shoulders, and cry out into his mouth. Malphas groaned at the delicious sting of his brother's talons, and Demiurge bit down on the larger Devil's lower lip with a growl before Malphas hungrily sieged his tongue into his mouth.

"Is this what you needed? Your Alpha's cock?" Malphas hissed with haughty arrogance, and began to quicken his pace.

Demiurge sucked on Malphas' tongue, drawing a deep purr of satisfaction from the Dominant Devil. His hands flexed on Malphas' upper arms, fighting the urge to violently jerk himself off tooth and nail.

Malphas was in Alpha mode now, and he would not allow Demiurge to touch himself until he said so. It was torture, but it made it so much better in the end. He could come multiple times from prostate stimulation alone.

"Yesss...please," Demiurge shamelessly begged; he was beyond desperate at this point. "...don't hold back."

"Oh, I won't." Malphas promised, and drug his tongue up the side of his neck in a hot, lecherous lick before clamping his fangs down in a firm bite as he rammed into him harder.

"Tell me how badly you want it."

"Fuck..." Demiurge's eyes rolled back, his cock weeping a long, glistening rope of pre-come as Malphas gifted him with what he craved. "Make me come all over myself...and force me to lick my dripping mess up off the floor."

"Mmmm...I very much like that idea." Malphas rumbled. "I love seeing you on all fours like a beast."

Degradation was another one of the Seventh Floor Guardian's many fetishes. After being expected to have perfect poise and elegant charm among his peers, day in and day out, he relished the weight of Malphas' heavy boot on his back.

Demiurge's eyes widened with a ragged gasp as he suddenly released a few short spurts of come onto his stomach, his channel squeezing around his brother's shaft. Malphas groaned as his velvet walls massaged his member, and the corners of his lips curled victoriously. Demiurge was granted a precious few moments of recovery before Malphas' large fingers clenched around his throat in a menacing but non-lethal grip, and rutted into Demiurge with hard, deep strokes. The smaller demon let out a strangled cry and wrapped his arms around his neck to brace himself against his brother's savage onslaught.

Grasping roughly at Demiurge's hips, Malphas hoisted him higher in the air when he started to slip, and tilted him just slightly. He knew he had found the perfect angle when his brother's moans stretched into pleading cries, his back arching in ecstasy as Malphas brushed over his prostate mercilessly with each thrust. Gods of Darkness Below, the thick slide of Malphas' cock was the sweetest of tortures.

"Fuck...fuck, Malphas!" He let out a strangled cry, his jaw dropping open as the dam broke and he suddenly erupted, pouring hot spend between them like a fountain.

"You really were pent up, weren't you?" The older demon teased with a dark chuckle, then licked his lips at the delicious hot splash of his brother's come spraying against his chiseled abdomen. Demiurge could only moan in lieu of a reply, as fuzzy white noise and his racing heart thudded in his ears as he was still spurting.

Semen dripped down between them, spotting the shower floor with droplets of pearl before it was washed away. Malphas slowed his pace while Demiurge was still leaking, but maintained a languid, steady roll of his hips.

Demiurge was glistening in a sheen of both sweat and water, a beautiful pink blush glowing on his cheekbones, his breath coming light and feathered from parted lips as he clung to his predecessor for dear life. It was sight that was nothing short of spectacular to Malphas.

Powerless to resist, Demiurge reverently sculpted a hand over Malphas' neck and shoulders; they were thick with muscle and delightfully hard, yet yielding beneath his fingers. He loved how Malphas' biceps bulged and flexed as he was lifted and speared upon his predecessor's perfectly thick cock over and over. Malphas was all brute strength, raw power.

God-like. _Magnificent. _

Ulbert may have been their all-knowing and Supreme creator, but as to why he was unsatisfied with the masterpiece which was his elder brother was beyond Demiurge's understanding. As far as the Commander of Defenses was concerned, Malphas was perfection.

"You're so exquisite..." Malphas murmured thickly, and sucked his earlobe into his hot mouth until a full body shudder rippled through Demiurge's frame, his baser instincts preening at the physically superior Alpha's praise. The elder Devil then nuzzled along his jaw, and dropped his head to tug a dusky nipple between his fangs, his velvety tongue swirling over the taut bud.

A gasp burst from Demiurge's lungs at the bone-melting pleasure, and felt the tension at the base of his spine threatening to unravel as his head fell back into the wall, his moans crested in pitch, grew craven with need. Malphas' tongue swept over his heated flesh, leaving a searing trail as he swiped away the droplets of water.

Demiurge's sounds of rapture were nothing short of a potent drug for Malphas. He traded one oral fixation for another, to reclaim Demiurge's mouth in a brutal kiss to swallow his sweet pleas for more, as if he were starved of him.

For the time that their lips were locked together, the world ceased to exist; everything around them blurred, faded until all that remained was slick flesh, the way their breath fed into one another, and the how Malphas was moving them in a rhythm older than time itself. They melded together, became one once again, and were as indistinct from one another as the colors of a wet painting left out in a rainstorm. When Malphas opened his eyes, for a fraction of a second, Demiurge's own reflected every moment he had wished that could have existed between them, before he hid behind his defenses of indifference. In the heat of that kiss, there was a stolen moment which could have just washed away, that Demiurge could have brushed off, but instead it was set, undeniable.

Malphas knew then that no matter how many times Demiurge pushed him away, no matter how many times he pretended what existed between them was false-

...it wasn't.

This gave Malphas hope. Hope that Demiurge would not resign to being the heartless, unfeeling monster he liked to paint himself to be; hope that one day, his brother would let him in...

Demiurge was rapidly reduced to a gasping, panting puddle in his arms. Malphas bared sharp rows of teeth and fucked him punishingly, and his brother's palms slammed onto his shoulders once more as he felt the tightening pressure of a blinding climax building, burning within his loins. Malphas saw a near panic in his gaze, and Demiurge's lips parted in a silent cry.

Malphas whipped his hips faster as his brother's enthralled expression brought him to the edge.

How beautiful Demiurge was, with his raven hair wetly draped over the pleasingly perfect bone structure of his face, his crystalline eyes pleading for release, for his brother's mercy. Malphas' lips pulled back into a savage grin, and he gave Demiurge a short nod, finally permitting his younger brother to touch himself. Demiurge eagerly grasped his aching cock and furiously stroked, his mouth widening with each gasp.

Malphas ground out a fierce snarl, and with a final hard thrust, they both detonated.

Malphas' name was torn from Demiurge's throat, and lightning whipped through his every vein as he exploded all over himself and his brother. Malphas roared with rapture as he fell into the scorching-hot abyss of endless, clutching pleasure, flooding Demiurge full of his own release until it spilled out. Malphas plunged his face down to mark him between the curve of his neck and shoulder, felt his flesh yield and break beneath the pressure of his fangs. Demiurge's channel clenched and agonizingly milked Malphas' length until he was empty.

"Fuck..." Demiurge murmured as he sagged weakly against him, mindless and drained. Malphas hungrily swept his tongue over the bleeding mark, his mark, and then rested his forehead against his brother's while he tried to steady his heaving breath and thundering heart.

"Thank you, Malphas..." Demiurge shakily whispered. A mild ache in his muscles still lingered from the cramps, but the majority of the pain was soothed, and his temperature had lowered considerably; it no longer felt as though his blood were boiling.

How foolish he had been to allow himself to go so long without; never before had he experienced a withdrawal so severe. Demiurge had been especially fortunate to have not made any mistakes or fallen behind in his work during this; he gave his all for the good of Nazarick, but if he had pressed on for another day, he certainly would have.

He decided then and there that he needed to find another way to satiate himself when he was unable to leave the Tomb. The Guardian of the Seventh Floor would not allow himself to be less than a freshly sharpened blade for Lord Ainz.

"I've missed you, Demiurge." Malphas crooned, and squeezed him in a light hug.

Every muscle in Demiurge's body tensed, but he did not growl or snap at his brother for this small display of affection. Malphas had helped him, in the wee hours of the morning, at that. Instead, Demiurge nodded in response, and then brushed his neck over Malphas', to collect and share his scent.

The elder Devil knew this was the closest he would come to having Demiurge reciprocate, so he accepted it with a low, contented purr. He then turned them both to stand directly under the shower head, and rinsed them off. They winced as Malphas withdrew, and he gently set Demiurge down. They finished showering quietly, and toweled off.

When they exited the bathroom, Malphas' heart sank when he saw Demiurge reach for his clothing.

He was going to leave.

"Stay with me tonight. I'll make sure you are taken care of before you head back in the morning. I can even make us breakfast." Malphas offered.

"You are bribing me with bacon, I assume?" Demiurge quirked a brow and crossed his arms.

"Maple glazed," Malphas flashed him a hopeful grin, his sapphire eyes sparkling with mirth. "your favorite."

There were very few dishes Malphas could cook worth a damn, but if there was one thing he could adequately prepare, it was bacon. And sweet and savory was indeed the Commander of Defenses' favorite combination. Now that he finally felt more like himself, Demiurge realized just how utterly exhausted he was.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stay the night.

The younger Devil playfully rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Oh, all right." Demiurge gave in, and laid his collared shirt back down over the dresser.

Malphas' heart soared with victory laced with relief, and he took his place on the bed and pulled his brother close; but not so close that they were touching, should it irritate him. As much as Malphas wanted to hold him, to feel him curl into his chest, he didn't dare push his luck or chance doing anything that may cause Demiurge to change his mind.

His brother's scent alone was comforting enough. He would happily settle for that.

Demiurge's tail did, however, seek out and wind around his own, acknowledging Malphas' desire for intimacy. The metallic rasp of steel plates over steel plates was music to his ears, and it made a soft smile play on Malphas' lips; he was glad Demiurge had his back to him, lest he see just how thrilled he was to have his brother here with him once more.

Demiurge slept soundly that night for the first time in three weeks, and his predecessor slept better than he had in four months. Just as Malphas had promised, he made sure his brother was satisfied again the next morning and cooked them breakfast before Demiurge returned to Nazarick.

---

***Three Months Later***

The water made a hollow drumming sound as it splashed into the empty metal troughs. The rippling surface painted Malphas' shimmering visage in gold leaf and amber orange as the sun began to sink behind the horizon, and set the sky over his land aflame. Amid the wheat field, the soft golden ears, whispered the unseen wind. It moved his raven hair and sea of late summer grass which made up the wide expanse of meadow all the same.

The keeper of the Royal Capital's stables was refilling his Bicorns' water supply after a thorough scrubbing of their troughs, his last chore of the evening before he could call it a day and settle in for the night.

The countryside lay sprawling before him like a living fingerprint, curving and changing, no arch or whorl quite the same. In all of Yggdrasil, this view was unique; the curvature and sway of the land, the ever-changing wind and sky. Even in this one place, the view from here would never be exactly the same twice. Little by little, the seasons brought change with them; lightning scarred the earth and trees, turning giants into dust. Torrents of rainfall carved new paths into the land, and the fertile ash of wildfire birthed flowers were there once were none. It should have made him happy, he thought, to see what the other Guardians likely never would.

But it didn't.

He missed the familiar comforts of Nazarick, seeing the warm splashes of color which were the stained glass windows of certain floors of the Tomb. He was reminded of them when he saw a rainbow or wildflowers in bloom.

He missed walking the path of the intricately patterned runner rugs which led to the glorious sight of Lord Ainz upon his throne; the brilliant designs adorning the wings of the swallowtail butterflies as they fluttered about in the grazing field evoked his memory of that, too.

He missed home every time he ate. Food was dishearteningly bland now. Anyone's palate would have gone gourmet with Pestonya's fantastic cooking. But here? He had to cook for himself. He ate whatever he hunted or collected. Luckily for him, wild boar was plentiful, as were red elk, but his spice garden had not produced yet. Until it did, his pork and venison were only lightly salted. It was a good day if he came across freshly laid Midgardian pheasant eggs in the nearby scrub brush, or stumbled upon wild dewberries which glittered like black pearls in the thorny thickets edging his property.

But most of all, Malphas missed seeing the same familiar faces every day, seeing his brother whenever he wished.

Malphas would give anything to come home.

The hair on his nape suddenly prickled and stood on end, and the meadowlarks which had been singing nearby fell dead silent.

Static electricity crackled and popped loudly in the air, the tell-tale sound of a portal opening up behind him, which was followed by the staggering dark aura of none other than his Master. Malphas' heart thudded hard in his chest and he promptly set down the metal bucket with a clang, and dropped to one knee in respect as Lord Ulbert stepped through the opening in time and space to stand before him.

"Greetings, Master. May I ask what brings you here on this fine evening?" Malphas politely inquired.

"Hello, Malphas. I was just...checking in." Ulbert's reply was suspiciously vague.

Malphas could sense something was off immediately. Ulbert had only been to his stables once, and that was when he had assigned the demon to them and oversaw the construction of his new home. That was a little over a year ago.

The original Guardian of the Seventh Floor searched his face for something, anything which may clue him in as to what this surprise visit was really regarding, but with Ulbert's caprine features and a mask covering half of his face, it was nearly impossible to read his expression.

"I know this is a rather odd request, but would you mind showing me your stables?"

"Of course, Master." Still, Malphas agreed without hesitation. "This way, please."

Malphas was relieved to have tidied the place before his Lord's unexpected arrival; he led him into the massive barn which he had built by hand, and paused before a stall which housed a sleek, leggy foal which couldn't be more than three months old. His freshly-brushed coat gleamed like black velour.

"This young stallion is my personal favorite. While he is still a colt, he has shown the most promise by far." Malphas said proudly. "I have named him Hades."

"Ah. A Hellraiser in the making." Ulbert smiled, showing his pointed fangs at the fruit of his creation's labor. "He will surely sire many a beautiful foal when he reaches adulthood. You bred this creature?"

"Yes, Master. I paired Hera with Styx. Their genetics are ideal for both speed and stamina, and based on the results of his current training, I would say luck was in my favor, as he has inherited the most desirable qualities from each. He is a quick learner, and highly intelligent." Malphas mused.

The demon watched with trepidation as the corner of his Lord's mouth tugged upwards in a grin.

"Excellent. I'm sure his parents are equally as magnificent. I am quite pleased with your work." Ulbert praised him and patted his shoulder affectionately, but carefully with his bladed hand.

Malphas couldn't help the sudden kick of his pulse and the flush that bloomed over his face at his Master's verbal approval.

"Th-thank you, Master." Malphas stuttered. "I hope he will make you proud. The very day he was born, a list was created for parties interested in his future offspring, which I have forwarded to Demiurge for investigation."

"You have made me proud, Malphas. You did this all on your own. I provided you with a single mare and stallion, and you are well on your way to producing the most powerful steeds for Nazarick and our neighboring lands. Not only that, but the information you have given us on interested parties for your Bicorns has given us secretive insight on possible threats to the Tomb, as well as potential alliances." Ulbert gushed.

Malphas blushed to his ears over the lavish praise, and his tail wagged before it curled around his leg shyly. "Thank you, Master. I am unworthy of such praise."

"Nonsense. As my first creation, you deserve that and more. I know this work was not ideal for you, but it is as important to us as guarding the Tomb." His Master assured him.

"I am pleased to fulfill any role you assign to me, Master." Malphas replied with as much sincerity as he could muster. It was a half-truth, as being uprooted from the only home he had ever known and ripped away from Demiurge had broken the heart he never wished to have beyond repair.

Now, Malphas was lucky if he had contact with anyone once, maybe twice a month. And for a demon who had been rewired to experience humanistic emotions for the purpose of being able to care for other creatures, living in the massive shadow of isolated solitude was agony.

"Believe me, if there was another way in which I could have gone about it, I would have." Ulbert said, his voice laden with regret, as he seemed to sense the truth as to how Malphas truly felt about it.

The Arch Devil was dumbstruck, and had no reply. Did his Lord really just apologize for sending him away?

It speared Malphas with a uniquely-shaped blade of guilt, but also offered a balm of validation. His place was to obey Ulbert's wishes without question- he knew he should be grateful Ulbert gave him a new function, but the manner in which things played out had wounded him deeply. He could only surmise that he was less than perfect in the eyes of his maker- so much so that his being had to be copied, streamlined, and improved upon. To add insult to injury, this new model, Demiurge, was handed everything he had worked for, all which he himself was created to protect.

Malphas could only assume that he had failed his Master, and deeply offended him with his shortcomings; so Malphas worked his fingers to the bone every day to prove he was worthy, that he could excel in this new function and exceed Ulbert's expectations.

"Believe me, _if there was another way in which I could have gone about it, I would have." _

How Malphas had longed to hear such words, something resembling an apology for being stripped of his title and dumped miles away from home, where he was expected to fend for himself with zero guidance and with very little explanation.

More importantly, why were these words being spoken now?

There was a short stretch of awkward silence. Ulbert's jaw set, and Malphas watched the motion of him swallow.

"I want you to have this." Ulbert finally broke the ice, and then pulled a small paperback book from a leather satchel strapped to his hip, and passed it to Malphas.

The Arch Devil's' sapphire eyes shimmered over the title. "Frankenstein..."

Its cover was dog-eared, the pages yellowed with age and the spine heavily marred. It had obviously been well-loved. This was not a brand-new item or something forged especially for him; no- this was a Supreme Being's personal possession.

This book must be truly precious to his Master, and it was now being bequeathed to him. The former Guardian of the Seventh Floor felt his chest tighten as his heart swelled with joy.

"I think you will appreciate it. It's an old story, and is well known among the Supreme Ones. In many ways, it reminds me of you." Ulbert said, and Malphas did not miss the secretive gleam of sorrow in his one visible eye.

The Arch Devil could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Malphas wanted to ask what troubled Ulbert so, but it was not his place. While Ulbert's somber undertone made the demon uneasy, he did not allow it to spoil the fact that he had finally proved himself on some level in his Master's eyes.

'Maybe I am not a failure.'

"Thank you, my Lord." The Devil smiled warmly at the priceless gift his Lord had presented him with, which he delicately held in his claws. The Devil knelt to him once more and clutched it to his heart. "I will treasure it always."

And he still does.

That was the last time Malphas saw Ulbert Alain Odle, before his Master disappeared for another plane of existence.