FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING
Chapter 37: THE DESIGNERS (1)

Chapter 37: THE DESIGNERS (1)

After her meal, Velmoria led Arella to the drawing room to meet with the designers. Velmoria called it a room, but it was more like a grand hall. Crimson drapes cascaded from the high windows, their edges trimmed with silver thread. Velvet settees lined the walls, and an ornate obsidian table stood at the center, laden with fabric, samples and sketches. There were around ten demons in the room, and Velmoria introduced the three main designers.

Arella eased herself onto one of the settees with effortless grace. Her back was straightened, the elegant curve of her wings framing her silhouette. The fabric of her gown pooled around her as she crossed one leg over the other. One hand rested casually on the arm of the settee, her fingers tracing idle patterns against the smooth surface. The soft glow of her halo bathed her in a gentle radiance, further accentuating her angelic power. Echo settled himself next to her feet, settling his eyes on the designers.

"Your Majesty, they are ready to begin." Velmoria spoke up after Arella was settled down.

"They may begin."

The first demon was a short, wiry demon Velmoria had introduced as Lorthiel. Curled delicately around her head like a crown were crimson horns. Her hair was a deep silver gray, and her eyes were blue like the sky. Her demeanor was professional, and one of her assistants walked forward with a leather-bound portfolio filled with designs. "Your majesty, it is an honor." She bowed slightly as Arella accepted the portfolio.

The second demon was a towering male with serpentine eyes and scales running down his arms. His tunic was sleeveless, showing two tattoos circling around the arm, just above the point where his green and blue scales ended. He had been introduced as Azrathion. His eyes were green and slitted, gleaming with curiosity. His assistant also stepped forward to hand her a portfolio; this time it was fabric bound, and a flowery scent emanated from the velvet.

He offered her a smile, his sharp teeth barely visible. "Queen Arella," the towering demon bowed his head, his green locks flopping over his eyes as he bowed. "I look forward to creating something truly divine for you."

The third demon made no attempt to hide her disdain for Arella. Her nose was practically turned up all the way in the air, scrunched up as if she was smelling something completely foul. She had been introduced as Melasva, and her demeanor reflected her pale, ice blue skin. She stood with her arms crossed, her silver eyes narrowing as she looked Arella up and down.

Arella raised a brow at her actions, her green eyes shining. Some altercation was bound to happen with a demon looking so very hostile. How exciting.

Melasva glared at the other two demons. Her lips pulled up into a sneer that exposed her fangs. "Are you two truly stupid? I still do not understand why we are designing for an angel." She tapped her foot rhythmically onto the floor. "A demon queen should be draped in demonic energy, in power, not halos and feathers."

Velmoria, who had been standing slightly behind the settee Arella was seated on, held her breath. This was the first openly hostile demon the queen was facing. Velmoria had simply called the designers that usually made outfits for the king, not expecting that any of them would show hostility to the queen.

She wanted to step in and direct the demon out of the palace.

However, something stopped her, and she waited to see how Arella would react.

Arella stopped tapping her finger on the arm of the settee and slowly raised her head to meet Melasva’s frosty gaze. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as if the very air was responding to the unspoken tension,

Echo’s ears twitched at the shift and at the sudden release of holy power from his master. His eyes narrowed as he raised his head to stare at the demon. If he could speak, he would have begged his master to not set anything on fire. However, being a demonic creature with no ability to speak, he lay his head back down and prayed that his master had even a little mercy on the stupid demon.

Arella’s halo bobbed up and down ever so slightly as she straightened up a little more. "Is that so?" Her voice was painfully calm for someone who had just been insulted. She straightened her back just a little more, her wings subtly unfurling behind her as if to assert her presence even more.

Melasva’s lips pulled up even further, unbothered by Arella’s composed demeanor. "Yes, it is quite ridiculous, is it not? An angel here, married to the king of demons." Her voice dripped with contempt as she continued to speak. "I am sure that I am not the only one who wonders how the king lowered himself to such a thing. Marrying an angel of all things and letting her come here, where she had no place among us." You cannot even begin to understand the intricacies of the demon culture. You do not belong here."

Arella met Melasva’s challenging stare. There was a slight tilt to her lips as she smiled, obviously amused by the demon’s actions.

The other designers remained silent. Lorthiel shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other while Azrathion looked at the room, as if suddenly in awe by the tapestry that lined the walls. Velmoria’s hands cracked slightly, as she prepared to use her demonic power if needed.

"Is that so?" Arella repeated, her voice smooth. Her fingers resumed the light tapping on the armrest. "And who, exactly, do you think you are to tell me where I belong?"

Melasva rolled her eyes before narrowing them to glare at Arella. "I think you should stick to your angelic duties. I speak for those demons who oppose this marriage but cannot get an audience with the king."

"It doesn’t matter what you think, Melasva." Arella tilted her head ever so slightly. "I am the one married to the demon king as of this moment." She rolled the ring on her finger round. "Would you dare go to the king at this moment and tell him what you have just told me, or shall I burn your beautiful hair instead? Those are your two options."

Melasva’s breath halted, not expecting such an answer from the queen. Were angels so... violent?

"Shall I give you time to think as I go through these portfolios?"

There was silence, as Melasva calculated whether or not to push the queen further. The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. "I would like to leave. I shall not design for a queen I do not approve of."

"Ah ah." Arella shook her head. "You seem to be mistaken. You have two options: to go to the king and inform him of your wonderful thoughts, or to let me burn your hair. Whether you leave or not is irrelevant to me. If you go to the king and tell him your thoughts word for word, I will spare your hair and scalp. If you refuse to go to the king," she raised a finger, and a flame danced on its tip. "I think we know what will happen."

Echo, who had been lazing around at Arella’s feet, raised his eyes upon feeling her holy power. Still, the creature made no move to stop her.

Demons who had never left the demon realm had obviously never encountered holy energy, let alone holy power. Nevertheless, there was an inherent fear etched into their DNA.

Melasva’s eyes flickered nervously as realization finally dawned on her on how serious Arella was being. She could feel the holy power emanating from the demon queen. This was no idle threat. She really was going to burn her hair.

For a moment, the icy demeanor Melasva had so carefully cultivated faltered. The thought of confronting the king with her disapproval—actually walking up to the demon lord and voicing such disdain—was too much. A cold sweat gathered at her brow and her body stiffened. Who in the demon realm did not know of the demon king’s cruelty to anyone who dared defy him?

With his origin, how else would he have even managed to become king if not being cruel and decisive?

Her lips trembled, as she opened her mouth to speak, but the words got caught in her throat. She had always seen herself as superior, a demon of high standing who could always voice her opinions without any consequence. Her father was even one of the high lords, and the only reason she had been allowed to be a designer was because her father believed that she could win the king’s heart by being one of his official designers.

That old lout knew nothing.

The demon king never gazed at any of them. And after seeing how he looked at the queen, she knew she never had a chance.

Under the weight of Arella’s gaze, she realized once more that she was nothing but a tiny insect. The queen was the looming predator waiting for the time she would strike. Then, as she had said, the queen looked down at the two portfolios that she had been given. It was as if Melasva did not exist in her sight.

Melasva opened her mouth to speak, but the words got caught in her throat. The silence was thicker than before, as they all waited for her answer.

"I... Your majesty I..." she stammered, glancing at the other designers who were pointedly avoiding her gaze, unwilling to intervene. As he last saving grace, she looked to Velmoria, who was doing a horrid job of hiding her amused smile.

Damn succubi.

"I... can’t," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper, "I shall not go to the demon king." The defiance was long gone from her tone, and she looked down at her feet, unwilling to look the queen in the eyes. "I am sorry, Your Majesty."

Arella looked up from her portfolios, a light smile on her face. She lit the holy flame once more, balancing it on her finger, "Wise choice."

.

S/T:

Melasva: (that morning) I’ll show that queen that this is not a playground. She should go back to where she belongs.

Melasva: (Same day, that evening) That queen is a demon. How can she burn off all my hair? All my hair. I cannot go out like this!

Author: Aren’t you the demon?

Melasva: (Glares at author) Are you the one who had all her hair burned off?

Author: (Slowly dissipates)

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