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asmodeus-fallen-principality · 1 month ago

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She'd tried. Really, she had. But years of ruling Hell did not make Shax any more bearable.

And now the damned stork was trying to plead her case for a promotion. It might have been funny, but the time for that had passed thirty minutes ago and Shax was still talking.

“Are you done yet?” Abby said, interrupting the demon. “My mind is already made up, you don't have to continue trying to convince me.”

“Of course, my King,” Shax muttered between gritted teeth.

“You make a good case for yourself, I must admit.” Abby didn't even look at her as she spoke, instead inspecting her wine glass. (Dagon had given it to her only five minutes into Shax's theatrics.) “From what you say, there is no one more deserving of this promotion than you.”

“Really?” The shine of victory was in Shax’s eyes. It was almost a shame.

“But unfortunately for you, it is not your words that determine things. And I know the truth that hides behind your silver tongue.” Now she did look at the demon, her eyes dark and calculating, never blinking. “You care not for the betterment of Hell, but only for your own gain. This could be excusable, perhaps, if you were willing to do as you're told. There is nothing wrong with ambition. But I have no tolerance for bullshit and nonsense.”

“But, your Majesty -”

“My answer is no. Get out of my sight.” And with a flick of the King’s hand, the floor shifted under Shax, and the walls followed, and then she was gone. Abby sighed and drained the rest of her wine. “Are we sure I can’t exile her?”

“It would be an unwize decizion.”

“Damn it.”

Never let it be said that Shax was the type to give up. Oh, sure, she let it be for a few years, letting the rejection run its course. But she had a plan. She always did.

It started off slow. When the time came for their quarterly meeting to discuss Shax’s progress on Earth, she wore a scandalously low-cut dress and higher heels than normal. The King didn’t even notice, having a rather unnerving habit of making eye contact when speaking, and otherwise looking at the files in front of her. Never one to quit, Shax tried this again at the next three meetings. It got the same response every time, which is to say, nothing. And so she was forced to try a slightly different approach.

The next meeting, Shax walked in with the same shirt, but this time, there was a flower pinned to one side. It was slightly wilted and a little crushed, but it was there, and it worked. Abby looked at Shax, looked at the flower, and then back at Shax. And smiled.

“So that’s why Crowley sent me a string of messages about a plant being knocked over.” She waved her hand, and the flower brightened up, no longer wilting. “You know you can grow your own plants, right? I thought I made it clear that Crowley and Aziraphale are not to be bothered.”

“Of course. My - mistake.” It almost seemed to pain her to say the words, but that was also something Shax was trying: not arguing with the King. So far, it had gotten her nothing more than a few raised eyebrows, but it was still a work in progress.

The next step in her plan was…not quite as simple.

The King had a habit of getting ridiculously drunk after her trips to Earth. The trips had become less frequent as time went on, but she still went up a couple times a year. And like clockwork, every time she returned, her cupbearer would be called upon and no one else would see the King for a few days. (No one else, of course, not counting Eric and Dagon.)

The tricky part would be choosing the right time to lure the cupbearer away and take her place. Too early, and the King would still be sober enough to notice the switch. Too late, and she’d be too drunk for Shax to get any worthwhile information. It was entirely down to luck.

Shax is not often very lucky. Which means that even she was confused about how she managed to be pouring the King’s wine after her latest trip to Earth.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” Abby mumbled into her glass. “Well, I do, a little.” Shax just stayed silent, letting her ramble on drunkenly. “You used to flirt with my wife. I was jealous.”

“Of me?”

“Yes, of you, keep up.” The demon just rolled her eyes as the King continued. “You were - I don’t know, all the dark skintight leather, and you’re older than me, more established. I was jealous and territorial. I didn’t want to lose them to you.” She paused, staring into her wine glass. “I miss my wife.”

“That’s why you keep going to Earth,” Shax said quietly. Abby just nodded.

“I visit my family as well. But I always go back to the cottage. Our home.” She wiped away a tear distractedly before realizing she was crying. “Shit. You’re - you can go, I…get Dagon, send them in, please.”

“My King, I can -”

“I said go!” And once again, Hell shifted, and Shax was out in the hallway, still holding the bottle of wine. Dagon, well used to Abby’s moods, is already waiting there.

“You know,” the duke said lazily, twirling a knife, “the King may not see what you’re doing. But I do.”

“I didn’t realize that the Lord of the Files had been demoted to guard dog now,” Shax sneered back. Dagon just shrugged.

“Call it what you will. Someone has to protect her.” The knife they were twirling had, rather rapidly, become embedded in the wall by Shax’s head. “You’re not going to break her heart because you want power.”

“This is Hell, everyone’s after power.”

“Then I guess you haven’t been paying attention,” Dagon said as they walked past her. They paused, their hand on the door. “And I can’t have you fucking up my vacation schedule.”

She waited a year to make the next move (time, after all, makes little difference in Hell). There was a demon on Earth, a fussy little blonde one, who had access to antiques and didn't seem to recognize Shax. He had been rather reluctant to part with any of his wares, but he just required a bit of convincing. (“Convincing” being used here to mean that she stammered about “getting a sword for my King - I mean! My friend - I mean, just…someone I know.” Asmodeus, being good friends with the sword-loving King of Hell, put two and two together and gladly sold Shax the sword with a massive price hike.)

Had Shax known more about courting than seducing, she might have chosen a particular day to give Abby the sword, or perhaps even made up an anniversary. But, instead, she marched her way down to the throne room immediately, not even bothering to wrap it. This did, however, mean that she stormed into the throne room unannounced and armed, causing Dagon to pull two swords out of nowhere.

“Hold your fire, Dagon,” Abby said, rising out of the throne with a hand resting on her own sword. “Demon Shax. Is this your attempt at an uprising?”

“No, your Majesty. It is a gift.” She held out the sword like she didn't know what to do with it. Beside Abby, Dagon gasped so hard that they started coughing. The King raised an eyebrow. “I…hope you like it?”

“And what reason do you have for giving me a gift? Have you really stooped to bribery?”

“No, no, I…I saw it and thought of you? Because you like swords?” This was not going the way Shax had planned. She might actually have to fight Dagon, and she does not want to do that.

“Hmm. Interesting.” The King walked closer, Dagon always two steps behind her, just in case. She plucked the sword out of Shax’s hand and inspected it. “This is clearly human-made, but it smells demonic. Where did you get it?”

“Earth. Antique shop.”

“Asmodeus is selling things now? That’s new.” She swung the sword a few times, testing the feel of it before sheathing it on her belt, an empty sheath having suddenly appeared. “Thank you, Shax.” Both demons stared at her wordlessly, mouths open. She cleared her throat and leaned forward to whisper, “This is the part where you say, “You’re welcome.” Just so you know.”

“Oh! Right. I knew that,” Shax insisted. “You’re welcome.” There was a slight smile on the King’s face, and Shax couldn’t help but look hopeful.

“If that is all,” she said, “you’re dismissed.” The walls and floor did not shift this time, allowing Shax to walk out herself. As soon as the throne room doors closed, Dagon started ranting.

“You know what she’s doing, right? I mean, it’s obvious, but you haven’t said anything yet. And who gets their boss a gift? She’s clearly flirting with you, she’s just after power. Probably thinks she can get the throne or something.”

“I know, Dagon.” Her voice is quiet, but it silences theirs immediately. “I have eyes, I can see what she’s doing.” On instinct, one of her hands moves to the small chain around her neck, three rings hanging on it. “But if she is focused on this, she will not pursue other methods of gaining power. You know as well as I do that there will never be a Queen as long as I am King. Let her be.”

“You sure this isn’t just you being lonely?”

“Do not worry for me, my friend.” She continues before Dagon can scoff at being called something as nice as a friend. “You can not deny that she is harmless like this.”

“Ugh, fine. I won’t stab her. I still get to threaten her, though, right?”

“As if I could stop you from doing that.”

It was Furfur who noticed it, out of all the demons. He had a few hours to kill, and had popped up to Earth to see Shax on assignment. When he found her, it was with a stack of files, a few swatches of fabric, and an obnoxiously pink beverage.

“Who are you tempting with all this?” he asked, sitting down across from her.

“The King,” was all she said, still focused on the files. “Which of these do you think compliments her eyes?” She held up two swatches, along with a photo of the King.

“What the bloody Heaven are you on about?” He nabbed her drink as she tossed her head back in frustration, taking a sip and making a face. “Why do her eyes matter?”

“You don’t know how to court an angel, clearly. I have to match her!”

“No, you don’t?” He tilted the drink accusingly at her. “I think this has gone past trying to get the throne.”

“Obviously, as her Queen, I must look good next to her. I couldn’t make her look bad.”

“Oh my Satan.” Furfur dropped the drink in shock. “You’ve gone and gotten a crush on the King.”

“I have not!”

“You have too!” He snatched one of the files off of her stack, quickly scanning it. “You have a cross-referenced list of things that make her smile!”

“To get on her good side! Don’t be dense!”

“Is this a poem?!”

“Give that back!” She snatched the paper back from him, but he had already read it. “I read it in a book! It is an established courting behavior, which means it would work perfectly for my plan to seduce her.”

“So you’re going to show that to the King? Really?”

“Well, no, not this one,” Shax said slowly. “This one was…practice! Not for her yet! It’s not good enough.”

“Oh, you’ve got it bad. This is going to be great.” He pulled out a phone, something outdated and cracked. “I think I’ve still got Crowley’s number somewhere, he’s going to love this.”

“Don’t do that! I am not in love with the King!” Furfur just raised an eyebrow and pointed to the hearts doodled in the margins of her files. “Oh, fuck.”

#poor foolish shax #i say as if i am not enjoy watching her dig her own grave

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