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The Devil May Care

Side-Story: Arnis

For DuskCypher

By Draconicon

Once, he had been able to think. Once, the bear had had a name, something that made him more than the endless firestorm of fury that he had become. In that moment, in the many moments since the curse had been laid, he had forgotten it, and he didn't care. All that he cared about were the chains that held him back and the insatiable urge to slaughter, to run, to kill, to rip, to tear.

To tear himself, especially. Why? He didn't know, but the anger burned all the hotter when he thought of himself and his skin all intact, in one piece, no longer shredded and burned the way that it should have been after -

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

His screams grew louder again, and the fire burned hotter around the bear's body, leaping two, three, four times his height around him. The inferno of Wrath burned to a level that would have melted mortal steel, would have left puddles of molten metal all around him if he had been in the mortal world.

But he was in Hell, and he could not escape.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Another roar as the fury rose through him, anger that blinded him to all but the fires that surged around him. Why? Why was he so...

It hurt. The anger hurt, as it always did, but not enough. Not nearly enough. The great bear pulled at his chains, dragging at them with all his strength, pulling from right and left, pulling at the great weights that held him back. The angrier he got, the heavier they became, until he was pulled back against the wall.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Scream after scream after scream, and not one made any difference. The inferno blazed higher, and he lost himself in the fire, in the senseless rage, in the helplessness that it offered and the intensity that made everything else fade away.

A face. A simple face. Something that he had all but forgotten about, something that he had tried to forget so that he could not feel guilt.

Soft. Gentle. Another bear. Another person. Another - what was her name? It was one like his.

One like his.

One like his.

A cut across her face, the picture ruined by the blood running forth, and the bear screamed again. A tear left his eye, only to turn to steam as it touched his muzzle. He roared for more, for the heat to grow, for the fire to rip through him and burn out his mind and soul once more, but...

But there was...

There was something lost. He wasn't forced into it anymore, and the little picture of her, of her, in his mind had introduced something that he had forgotten about. He wondered if they had all forgotten about it.

Guilt.

Shame.

Pain.

So much of that last one, and the fires started to die around him as he felt the tears rising. The one line of red across her face, the one slash of blood that he could see in his imagination turned to another, and another, criss-crossing her face and leaving her a bloody mess of tracks. Her eyes went from shining red-gold to something broken, white and oozing with something that should never come from the eye. Not tears, but blood, and other fluids.

He could feel the wetness on his claws, the pain that he had delivered to her. And then, he remembered her name, and just after, his.

Amelia Judas.

Arnis Judas.

My sister.

The bear screamed at the top of his lungs as the guilt hit him harder than the flames had over the course of hundreds, thousands of years. The guilt, the pain, the horror of what he had done to his own sister.

The memories came clearer, faster, harder. He saw her, saw her body as he ripped her limb from limb. Arnis could see it, see through his own eyes, and see himself from further off as he sunk his claws into her joints, pulled and then yanked her apart. Her arms, first, then her legs. She tried to fight back, but only weakly, never harshly, never actually trying to hurt him. She never had, never could. She refused the curse of Wrath, and this had been her -

"No...No..."

He tried to stem the flood of memories, but they kept coming, merciless as he had been back then, driven by the same Wrath, the same curse that he'd just been released from. He could feel the heat of the hell magic still sticking to him, but it was burning off, the inferno fading and departing as he slumped to the floor, hitting the ground with a hard clank. Metal floor, hard wall, harsh heat. He was sweating like a pig, then steaming like a kitchen, the sweat burnt off before it could settle in.

Amelia. His sister. The first victim of Lucifer's Curse of Wrath.

"Nnnngh..."

He bit down so hard that he broke his gums, bleeding from the self-inflicted wound. He took the pain and treasured it, used it as a balm against his guilt. He deserved this...he deserved this for what he had done.

The chains, so long holding him back, keeping him from touching himself, from breaking free and doing what he wanted, shattered. The rage was dead, and the chains no longer had the strength to hold someone that was not filled with Wrath.

I...killed her...

Arnis slammed his head down against the floor, wailing in agony, in pain, in horror at what he remembered. She had...

Why...why did I...

No, there was no question. His memory refused to let him have those questions, refused to let him spin his own story. And this time, they had a hint of mercy.

He saw her, again. Heard her words of defiance. Heard what she had to say against the Dark Throne and the great Satan that sat upon it. Amelia had spoken out against the way that Lucifer ruled, against the entertainment and weakness that he had delivered unto the demons of Wrath. She had called him out for the horrors that he had delivered unto them, and then...

Then, he had ordered her punishment. She had not taken the Curse of Wrath in herself, had managed to resist, and so, she would be broken before it spread. Lucifer had turned to him, and in a flash of red, Arnis had been given to Wrath in a way that he had never felt before. Blinding, burning, barely controlled from the outside, he had been turned toward his sister and -

The sounds. Oh, the sounds of horror that she had let out, the screams of pain, the squelching mess of her body being ripped and beaten to nothingness. Arnis screamed, trying to block the sound from his mind, slamming his head against the metal floor as if it were some great bell that he could ring to silence all the other sounds. All he managed was denting it, screaming until he broke through with one final blow.

He fell through to the chamber below, falling among all the other Wrath demons that had likewise been released from their curse. Bears, wolverines, spinning devils and more were there, panting, gasping, growling. Some held tight to the rage that was left, and he knew that they did it because to them, it was better. It was safer. It was what kept them from thinking about all that they had gone through. Those that didn't were easy to spot; they had fallen, wracked and shaken, and some were broken.

Arnis saw what had happened to the realm of Wrath, and somewhere, somewhere deep inside, he wondered what had happened. Was this an act of war by the other demons, a way to weaken Wrath so that they could be overwhelmed in the perpetual politics of the devils below? Was this a 'reward' of some sort from Lucifer, a way to break them further so that they would beg to be angry all the time to not feel this horror?

Or...

Or was it...

"He's dead..."

Someone said it, though nobody was sure which. The single statement echoed through the room, and then was taken up by other demons, other beings of Wrath.

"He can't be."

"He must be; I can't rage."

"Nobody could have -"

"Someone must have."

"It's over."

"It's done."

"We're done."

Was it Arnis who said the last one, or someone else? It was what he was thinking, at the very least, and he knew that others would feel the same. Amelia's death weighed heavily on his mind, too heavily for him to think of anything else, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before their various crimes started sinking in. The fact that he could feel guilt over this shocked him, but if there was anything that he would feel bad for doing, it was hurting his family.

Family. His house.

Arnis, of House Judas. The Betrayer's House, some called it, and he had proven that right with what he'd been made to do. His sister's betrayal of the Dark Throne, however, would be what was remembered. She had gone against Lucifer, had stood against the Satan, and now, she was dead.

He was alive.

His House, if it was still there, would need...

No...no, no, no...

He could not stand that. He would not be able to stand that. The very idea of anyone looking to him for commands, for him to receive anything like respect, was too much to bear. The great bear pulled himself to his feet again, feeling the remnants of the chains still clinging to his ankles and his wrists. He looked down at them, remembered the pain that he felt in them, and knew that it was only right to feel that after what he had done.

He saw other bears coming, familiar red marks running over them, over their faces. The signs of House Judas. They had come for him.

No, no, no.

Not now. Never again.

Judas closed his eyes. If he could not trust himself, he could not lead. If he could not lead, he didn't belong with his family. And if he didn't belong with his family, he did not belong here.

With a flash, he was gone.

He stood at the edge of the world of Wrath, looking down at the end of the realm and wondering if he could throw himself off. He doubted that he would die. Very little died in Hell forever, and he doubted that there was anyone there that would actually pull him down and finish the job. More likely he would fall forever, and he would exist in that state of horror that would put Sloth demons to shame for how little there was to do, slowly going insane until he no longer remembered anything, no longer cared about anything.

Honestly, it sounded better than what he had left to himself right then. He felt a flare of anger, and for a moment, he was scared of it, but then...

It's not fair...

Arnis stomped a foot, feeling almost petulant with such a minor expression of his anger, but it kept building. Not stopping, not holding back, but growing stronger. The fires of his own anger started to build around his heels, surging up behind him as he thought about it more and more.

It's not...fair...

And it wasn't.

He had been robbed of everything. A scion of House Judas, one posed to take over when Lucifer had completely lost his mind and punished everyone. He had been the bear that was ready to take the family forward, and his sister had been right there, waiting to help give him ideas. He had the force, she had the mind, and it should have been the simplest thing in the world to be better, to be the best family that Wrath had to offer.

Then, Lucifer had turned cruel, crueler than ever.

Then, his sister had stood up to him.

And then, finally, he had been made to kill her.

He could almost feel the juices of her popped eyeballs on his fingers again, and he slumped down, sickened, and he drew on that rage all the harder just to stay conscious, just to keep focused on how it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't.

It. Was. Not.

He had been forced to do that. The Wrath had been there, pulled forward, dragged out of him, yes, but he had not been the one to unleash it. Lucifer...Lucifer had been the one to do that, not him.

And now...

Now, the curse was gone. Which could only mean one thing, something that none of the other demons of Wrath had entirely figured out yet, from what he could tell. Lucifer's curse was gone, which meant that, somehow, he was dead.

And if he was dead, that meant that he was down here. In Hell. In torment.

Arnis shivered as he imagined what he could do to that man if he found him. He had hours upon hours of inspiration, decades, centuries of ideas that had come to him and been buried in the fire and ash that had tried to consume his soul. They had burned and sharpened, become tempered in the flames, and now, they were blades that he could wield in his vengeance for all that he had been made to do.

All that they had been made to do.

All that the realm had been reduced to.

The bear seized hold of that feeling, that desperate, vengeful anger. It didn't consume his grief, his guilt, his shame, but it did give him something else to hold onto. He was no longer depressed, no longer dying from his sadness, but empowered by the need to do something about it. The fires burst around him again, melting part of the stone cliff, making it shine from the heat that surged around him. It was...it was freedom to scream, freedom to let loose.

He looked down at the chains at his arms and legs, the remnants of his imprisonment. He could remove them, now...but he chose not to. They were...

They were a reminder. A reminder of what he might do if he didn't think things through properly. A reminder of what he would do if he was completely lost to Wrath. It was his power, and his bane.

He would not lose it again. Not like that.

Not on someone like her.

He knew where the plains of torment were, and he turned to leave, making his way to it. His family wouldn't know where to look, that much was for certain. They had always been a bit slow. Then again, so had he. They all were.

Except Amelia. Another tear hissed away in steam as he walked along.

He reached the plains of torment, but he wasn't the first to find Lucifer there. No, that honor belonged to a demon of Pride, and a familiar figure she was.

He stayed at a distance, disguised in the flames that burned the mortal souls. He stood with them, untouched by the fires, uncaring of the torments of acid and burning metal that poked at him from below. To Arnis, it was just one more thing to go through, one more thing to suffer for what he had done.

And from there, he was able to watch as Lucifer struck a pathetic figure, someone small and weak compared to what the great Satan had been. The ruler of all Hell, the terror of the seven realms, the master of the seven Vices, reduced to a tearful feline that could not do anything but beg and grieve.

Selene stood over the black cat, whispering something to him. Her voice had always been hard to catch when she wanted to be quiet, but the results were no less horrific. The terror of Hell lurched against his chains, screaming, shouting at her as she pulled something from him. It was barely visible, but it shone slightly in his view. A soul? And...something else. Something that had some power, obviously, for Lucifer to care that much.

She held it tight, shaking her head at him, and then turned away. The screams of the king of Hell echoed after her, chasing her through the realm as she disappeared, and Arnis...did not approach.

She hurt him...and she took more than I could...

It was, he supposed, something to be expected. Selene had been with Lucifer before the Curse, and he remembered how the lioness had been the beating toy of the great black cat. She had reasons to want him brought low. Every demon did, but her more than most.

Not as much as him, but close.

Yet...she had done more than his claws ever could. He could see the great cat whimpering, crying, screaming. There was pain, there was obsession, and then...

Then there was rage. Lucifer threw his head back in a scream that echoed through the plains of torment, and the sound made it clear that the great cat had been lost to the same endless rage that the Wrath demons had been cursed with. This, however, was a curse self-inflicted rather than laid out on purpose. Lucifer had lost so much that this loss of self was more desirable than staying himself.

Arnis couldn't beat that, so he wouldn't try. He turned, walking back through the flames, suffering further loss to himself. His clothes, his fur, everything was stained with fire, soot, and pain.

It felt right.

Some time later, he found himself drawn to a party in the Diel house. He remembered being there once before, during a gathering of the different families of Hell, and it was just as stony and hard as he remembered it being. The scents of food, sex, and smoke billowed out from the front doors, just as it had done in the past, and he was as familiar with all of it as he had ever been. The old memories remained strong, despite the efforts of the fire and the rage to burn through them all.

He walked up the steps, barely caring about all the others that turned to look at him. Their eyes narrowed at his state of undress, and the Wrath demon hardly noticed. What mattered was the feeling that he had, this sense of being drawn forward into the house.

It took him a minute to realize what it was. Two things. One, the lioness, standing at one end of the room, looking towards the thrones where Diel and his guest would sit. Two, the guest.

He barely had to look at the black cat for a moment to know that this was the person that had managed to kill Lucifer. He narrowed his eyes, half-expecting to feel some sort of vengeful need to take out his frustrations on someone else now that Selene had taken his chance to take it out on the great black cat, but this one...

This one did something different.

This one pulled at him. There was something to the aura besides the power of the great Satan. Instead of being someone that just exuded the powers of the seven Vices - though this feline did do that, in spades - there was also this void in him, something that pulled, something that consumed everything around him.

Even from the doorway, he could feel that sense of power, that sucking feeling pulling at the guilt, the shame, the anger. It felt like it was pulling the sheer fury from him enough for him to think, and enough of the guilt and shame for him to be able to stand himself. It was...strange, soothing, in its own way.

He looked down at his chains, and he made a decision. If he could have been used once, then he could be used again. There was no way for him to trust himself, not any longer, not after killing Amelia. There needed to be someone else holding his chains. Someone else that could make sure that he didn't lose his temper, his sense of self, his direction.

I can't be stupid again.

In the back of his mind, he was aware of the gifts being given to the black cat, could hear them being offered one by one. Blades, coats, and more. There were a hundred different gifts that were being offered up by the souls of Hell that wanted to get in good with the potential second Satan. They were cowards, trying to get something from him that they could never get from Lucifer: good will.

Arnis had a different thought. He stepped up, and all eyes were on him.

The bear stood at the front of the crowd, completely unbothered by all the different eyes on him, not at all bothered by the many different cocked-heads and whispers of worry and fear on the voices of some of the demons. They were right to be afraid. They were more right than they knew.

He put on the cockiest smile that he had, and then made his proposal. One that would change his life forever.

He was almost surprised that this Dusk actually took it, when it came right down to it. By the time that the gifting had been finished, the cat had been given enough weaponry to conquer the world, and there was more to come in the future. He imagined that the black cat could hardly be harmed by anything short of all of heaven coming for him, and even that would have a fight on its hands to take him down.

Did the black cat need a bodyguard? Probably not.

Did it make it better to have one? Hell yes.

And he doesn't know the truth about me, Arnis thought, looking out at the world that was spread out before him. Gluttony was a powerful realm, one that would likely grow more powerful depending on the appetites that Dusk had for the future. However, for now, it was just a realm waiting to consume, as it had always been.

It would have been easier for the Judas family to have been born here rather than in Wrath. Less prestigious, yes, and a good bit less powerful, but he imagined that they might have been happier. They wouldn't have suffered the Curse, and they would have been allowed to grow up normally.

And his sister would still be there.

His hands shook, and he had to grip them by the wrists to stop them, holding his arms out in front of him and crossed. The shaking persisted for another few seconds before finally dying off, leaving nothing but tension behind. He held that, too, his claws almost cutting into his skin before he finally pulled his hands apart. He waited for a few seconds, making sure that they weren't going to start again, then lowered his hands to his sides with a sigh.

"A new day..."

He tried to be happy about that. Tried to be even a little bit cocky about the fact that he'd be going to the mortal world, that he would be able to go there without having to ask for permission. There were things that he had heard of, even in his imprisonment, that made him think that there was something amazing up there. Weapons of such power that the demons would be hard-pressed to match them, even with magic. Techniques of pain such that the demons of Wrath would be delighted to try. Powerful opponents...that would not die just from a simple touch.

And best of all, he would not have to worry about himself. He would pull and tug on his chains, he knew that much; he was a demon and that was impossible for them to avoid doing. But that didn't mean that he would be able to break free. The chains would always be there, and Dusk would ensure that he never broke free of them. Arnis would make the cat show him where he belonged, and that would make things better.

"Arnis."

The bear froze in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. He supposed it was to be expected. Someone would eventually find him, and this time, it was his mother.

The older bear looked down at him from where she'd hidden at the doorway, shaking her head as she walked down the stone steps. He could have left, could have declared an emergency and gone back to his employer, but such would have been the act of a different demon. Not one of Wrath. Not him.

He waited, and she took her time to reach him. When she stopped, she was looking up at him, not down. So different to what things had been before the Curse.

"You have to come home," she said.

"Not happening."

"But - you're the heir."

"Not. Happening."

"...Nobody blames you for what happened to Amelia."

He doubted that. Even if it wasn't a lie - though he was thankful for her at least trying to address that thing - he blamed himself. Even though it was Lucifer's fault, he still carried the blood.

"Nobody blames you," she repeated, shaking her head as she adjusted the imp-leather that she wore. "But we need you. House Judas needs you."

"No. I have a new contract."

"You what?"

It was the surprise dead-pan of it that hit him, and he barely managed to keep from chuckling at the way that his mother went from earnest to wide-eyed in shock as she looked at him. It shouldn't have been funny, but it was.

"I have a new contract. I got someone that I gotta protect."

"You - you can't."

"Heh, sorry, but I do."

It was the other reason that he'd been so willing to pledge himself. The moment that he got a contract, his family had no hold on him. It meant that he could do what he wanted, as he wanted, in the world above without them doing anything to call him back. After all, a demon bound by a contract had to fulfill it. Particularly with a mortal. After all, that was how they got souls to play with without having to fetch them from the plains of torment.

His mother gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing. He shook his head, turning to look back at the hungry lands of Gluttony.

"Ain't gonna be that bad. Just gotta stick with him for a while."

"How long?"

"Eh, a while."

"How long, Arnis?"

"Dunno. Gotta figure that part out."

"It's in the contract, isn't it?"

"Heh, actually, it ain't. I'm stuck with it, I guess."

The sheer frustration in her following growl made him rather amused, but he kept the amusement quiet. After all, there was no point in making it worse. Pushing her might make her fight, and if they fought, then it was going to lead to blood for one or both of them. Probably both, all things considered. He was the stronger, but she was the more experienced, and that would lead to scars of its own.

"Fine. Fucking - fucking fine," his mother growled. "But as soon as you come back, you are taking over."

He nodded absently, already feeling his boss moving inside of the manor. They were going to be heading back to the mortal world before long, and he needed to be ready to leave. And that meant not talking with his mother. Shaking his head, he turned from the vista before him, walking up the stairs to the main hall -

"Hey, did you hear me?"

She grabbed his arm, forcing him around to look her in the eye. She glared at him.

"I told you. When you get back, you're taking over. You hear me?"

"..."

"I said, do you hear me?"

"...I hear ya."

"Good."

She let him go, but he could still feel the claws in his arm. The anger bubbled just under everything else, a reminder that he might have been free of Lucifer's Curse, but not necessarily from everything else. He could still lose himself in the rage, and that was something that he needed to pay attention to.

He rejoined Dusk as the cat opened the portal to the upper world, already thinking about what his new life would be like...

The End

Summary: Arnis's backstory. Surprisingly sad for the poor guy.

Tags: No sex, Torture, Bondage, Demon, Bear, Rage, Lioness, Family, Politics, Hell, Series,