Abyss and Naberius always sit next to one another. You suppose it’s because they’re the only two members of demon nobility who don’t have horns - and, thus, shouldn’t be considered nobility at all. Abyss in particular is one of the oldest demons you’ve met, possibly one of the oldest there is. Their face is slate-blank and passive, but the purple mass of tentacles on top of their head is undulating anxiously in its high ponytail. On the Council, the rest of the demon nobles tend to listen when Abyss speaks, and they’re often successful in creating compromise over a [[judgement|the people]].\n

Cassiel has their bare feet up on the table, and is idly examining their fingernails. Their hair is done up in an elaborate braid, and the sun streaming in from the large courtroom windows makes it shimmer like straw spun into gold. Mephistopheles murmurs something to them as you’re brought in, and they laugh, a loud, high, tittering sound that grates on your nerves. On the Council, they always cast judgement in favor of swift, violent punishments. They have a reputation for being [[bloodthirsty|the people]].

“Love?” Kesi’s lip curls. “Is that what you call it? Is love refusing to acknowledge me as your equal because you were afraid of how it might affect your social standing? Is love threatening me when I had doubts about your plan to rule Hell?”\n\n“You were the only one who I could talk to!” Your words come out as a shriek, your voice rising and cracking. “The only one who understood me!”\n\nKesi draws himself up to his full height - taller than you - and sneers openly. “You don’t know the difference between a real friend and a servant who’s been trained to agree with his masters all his life. That’s sad, Crocell.”\n\n“Can we [[vote|voteagain]]?” Mephistopheles asks again, louder this time.

[[Your name.|name]]

You had just woken up. But they gave you time to get ready, to bathe, to pick out what you were going to wear and put your makeup on. They knew better than to rush you. You knew why they were there before they said anything, and no one was going to make you look like a fool in front of the [[Council]].\n\nIt didn’t even cross your mind to try and slip out a window, to have a servant distract the guards while you ran away. There’s nowhere you could have run where they wouldn’t have found you eventually. And the life of a fugitive is too [[unglamorous]].\n

Ariel is the one demon with a permanent spot on the Council, given that he’s Hell’s Royal Historian, and keeps the records of every trial and the minutes of every meeting of demon nobles. He tends to keep to himself, and you’re not sure he’s really friends with any of the other nobles. He’s scribbling away in his book of records as you walk in, and doesn’t bother to look up. He doesn’t pass any kind of judgement during trials unless there’s a split decision that the Council can’t [[compromise on|the people]].\n

You are, but [[you don’t deign to answer.|deign]]

“You are being charged with treason, and conspiracy to commit regicide,” Paimon says, after a moment where you can see him desperately wrestling with the urge to snap at you. [[“How do you plead?”|plead]]

It was still early, barely dawn, when the guards came for you at your [[estate]].

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“I did nothing of the sort,” you say, taking another step towards the Council’s table. “He’s lying. This is a farce.”\n\nMephistopheles leans over the table to grin at you. “Farcical or not, we have all the physical evidence we need to pass judgement against you.”\n\n“I was getting to that,” Paimon says irately. “Witness, is it true that you aided Crocell in kidnapping and murdering the archangel Iofiel?”\n\n[[“Yes,” Kesi says.|iofiel]]\n

Sitri’s lips curl into a smile, and he gives you a little wave as you’re marched into the courtroom. You want to wave back, but your hands are bound in chains in front of you. He’s done something new to his hair that you don’t care for, as per usual, and he’s practically dripping with jewelry. Trust Sitri to treat a day in the courtroom like a dinner party at someone’s mansion. You’ve never actually seen him on the Council before, but you suspect he’ll be a swing voter, following the popular [[opinion|the people]].\n

Your smile falters a little. You were expecting to be accused of treason. You’ve weaselled your way out of that before with little more than a slap on the wrist. But there’s no way anyone on the Council could have known about [[what]] you and Kesi were planning.\n\n“[[Not guilty]],” you say, the words sour in your mouth.\n

You turn to Kesi. “You’re really just going to let them do this? Put me on Earth [[forever]]?”

Kesi is more than your servant, of course, but that’s how you’ve taken to referring to him among the other nobles. It’s bad form for someone from Kesi’s class - little more than an insect, usually born into servitude - to become the consort to someone from the upper crust like yourself. But he is, covertly, your consort and only confidante. You feel more comfortable talking to him than you ever have with anyone of your social class, maybe because you don’t have to hold your tongue and couch your feelings on social issues in flowery language. Kesi understands you like no one else you’ve met [[before|what]].\n

A cold wave of realization washes over you as the door swings open. You try to say something witty, something flighty and dismissive of this whole disaster, but your breath sticks sharply in your throat the longer you stare at the [[open door]].\n

“Surely you aren’t going to consider this,” you say, looking around at the other Council members. “It’s ridiculous. It’s - Paimon, you said yourself that you have to set an example. You can’t just bind me on Earth and expect -”\n\n“Why, Crocell,” Mephistopheles purrs, [[“are you scared?”|scared]]

He can’t look at you - his eyes keep darting towards where you stand, then sheepishly sliding away. Good. He doesn’t deserve to look at you anymore.\n\nYou keep your chin up and look back at the Council. You won’t let them get under your skin.\n\n“Tell me, Kesi,” you say, “[[what did they offer you]] in exchange for selling me out?”\n

The regicide charge is true, of course. You and your [[head servant]] Kesi have been [[making plans]] to assassinate Samael (Satan, Prince of Lies, King of Hell, what have you), for roughly a year now. Samael doesn’t involve himself in the politics of Hell whatsoever these days, which means he’s a figurehead leader at best, and the demon nobles are allowed to do whatever they like. The lower classes - Kesi included - aren’t fond of that arrangement in the slightest. They would much rather have someone like you on the throne, someone who actually knows what’s [[best for them|plead]].\n

END

[[What you looked like.|looked]]

“So that’s it, then?” Naberius asks. “We’re going to punish them?”\n\n“They admitted that they killed Iofiel, at least,” Sitri says, resting his chin boredly in his hands. “And that they needed the sword for killing a demon. So, yes, I’d say they’re plenty guilty.”\n\n“Does anyone here [[disagree]]?” Paimon asks.

“Be quiet, Crocell,” Paimon says, and he actually does snap this time. The other demons around the table look surprised - well, everyone except Mephistopheles, who just looks amused. “If I wanted this to be a circus or a spectacle, we would have had a public trial.”\n\nYou did wonder if this was going to be public or not. The Council has a separate, larger courtroom where lower class demons are allowed to attend and watch judgements being passed down. It’s a good showing of transparency from the ruling class, but you’re glad you don’t have to put up with being hooted and jeered at by a crowd.\n\n“Moving on,” Paimon says, looking to the door off to the left of the Council’s table. “The Council calls its [[witness]] to the stand.”\n

It’s humiliating, kneeling on the floor in front of the Council, but you can’t quite focus on how humiliated you are. You can’t quite focus on anything. You bite back a scream so hard that you taste blood. The world feels like it’s spinning too fast around you, your ears ringing, your tongue heavy in your mouth. The guard next to you grabs your arm and tugs you to your feet, but you wrench away from him, and this time the scream comes out of your lungs like it wants to.\n\n“Don’t touch me!”\n\nThe guard looks afraid, and steps away from you, his hand still grasping outwards. You swing around to look at Kesi. Your hair is coming loose, falling in your face, but you can’t fix it with your hands chained. You must look [[like a mess]].

You suck in a breath. Abyss has hit the nail on the head. Letting this go public would make you a hero in the eyes of the lower class, a figure they can worship, can look to for treasonous inspiration. People might make attempts on the Council’s lives, on Samael’s life, in your name. Gods, you hope they spring for a public execution. [[You’d be a martyr.|bored]]

Kesi starts to say something, but Sitri smoothly intercepts the question, still smiling at you.\n\n“It’s not really your place to ask that, is it, Crocell?”\n\n“Liar,” you hiss. You try to lunge forward, at the table, but the guard standing next to you grabs your arm and yanks you backwards. “He’s my head servant, you fucking -”\n\n“Language,” Abyss warns.\n\n“I’ll use whatever language I want,” you spit at him. He raises his eyebrows in bemusement, but doesn’t bother to retort. “You think it’s funny to turn my own staff against me? For all you know, he could be lying - I’m sure he’d gladly sell me out for whatever grand offer you made him!” You look back at Kesi, your lips twitching up into a grin. “[[What was it]], hmm? A seat on the Council? A position in Samael’s palace? Your own mansion?”\n

“I say we dismember them with Iofiel’s sword,” Cassiel says, practically beaming. You force yourself not to react. They’re probably just testing the waters, seeing how brutal of a punishment the other Council members think you deserve.\n\n“I’m not opposed,” Paimon says, to your complete and utter surprise.\n\n“Now, hang on,” Sitri interjects. “That seems harsh, doesn’t it? If they really had killed Samael, or tried to, that would be one thing, but just for planning it -”\n\n“We have to set a precedent.” Paimon’s voice is steely. “Regicide has never been attempted in Hell, and we have to ensure that no one gets ideas from this. If word gets out that plotting to murder Samael is met with anything less than death -”\n\n“Death and dismemberment are two very different things. And one happens to be much more painful than the other,” Abyss says.\n\nMephistopheles snorts. “I assumed that was the point.”\n\nYou sneak a glance at Kesi, to see if he looks any guiltier than before about selling you out. [[He just looks bored.|bored]]

From left to right around the large, curved table, you can see [[Abyss]], [[Naberius]], [[Sitri]], [[Paimon]], [[Cassiel]], [[Mephistopheles]], and [[Ariel]]. It’s unsurprising, from what you know of the pool of demons eligible for Council duties. No one you wouldn’t have picked yourself, [[really|Council]].\n

“Why didn’t you bring out this evidence before we set about humiliating Crocell?” Naberius asks, his tone carefully neutral.\n\n“Wouldn’t it be less fun that way?” Cassiel answers his question with one of their own, flashing him a grin. Naberius frowns at them.\n\n“I don’t think so.”\n\n“Regardless,” Paimon says, “all of the evidence points to Crocell planning an attempt on our king’s life. And, while we’ve excused them from charges of treason before, regicide is a serious crime, which should have equally serious consequences.”\n\n“But they never actually carried out that attempt,” Abyss argues. Your stomach sinks. The fact that the Council is talking like this means that they’ve all but decided that you’re going to be punished. The only question now is [[how]] they’re going to do it.

“Someone would have to re-seal the binding every hundred years or so, to make sure they can’t break free,” Paimon muses, “but it’s feasible. I think all of us combined could do the sealing ritual, and then perhaps we’ll take turns whenever it comes time to reinforce the bindings.”\n\nAriel looks up from his records book. [[“And would we ever set them free again?”|free]]

a pound of flesh

Paimon sits in the center of the table, in the Master of Ceremonies’ seat. You can’t read his expression - it’s somewhere between furious and distraught, maybe, but he’s clearly trying to wrestle it back down into something more stoic. You don’t blame him for being upset, of course. You knew he would be. He adjusts the device he wears over his right eye, and you see the lens on it dilate, tilting in your direction. On the Council, he always casts fair, logical judgements, but he’s apt to be thinking with his heart instead of his head [[today|the people]].\n

“What about public execution?” Cassiel asks. “We could do it on market day, make a big deal of it, have Paimon or someone read a speech about loyalty to the King. We haven’t done a public beheading in decades.”\n\n“That’s because, historically, the middle and lower classes never responds well to them,” Ariel remarks quietly.\n\n“Well, it would certainly send a message,” Sitri says. “Just maybe not the right message.”\n\n“It might behoove us to take care of this discreetly,” Abyss says. “I doubt word of Crocell’s arrest has gotten out by now, and we can easily think of some way to gloss over Kesi’s inheritance of their title and estate. The less we address the idea of regicide, and the idea that a demon has gotten away with planning such a thing for at least a year, the [[better]].” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “I would add, too, that Paimon’s judgement may be...impaired, in this case, as he and Samael have had a personal friendship for quite some time.”\n\n“Oh?” Sitri’s eyebrow’s shoot up, and he leans towards Abyss. He’s practically drooling over the gossip. Typical. “I hadn’t heard that.”\n\n[[“That’s irrelevant,” Paimon snaps.|irrelevant]]\n

“Are you sure,” Paimon says, his voice more of a growl now, “that is how you wish to plead?”\n\nYou reinforce your smile. “Yes.”\n\n“Can we get on with it?” Cassiel asks boredly, twirling a lock of hair around their finger. Paimon turns his glare in their direction, but they just smile at him, and shrug a little. Paimon sighs.\n\n“Fine. The Council -”\n\n“May I ask [[what proof]] you have against me?” you interject. \n

[[“You gave me up for so little?” you ask him.|little]]

“Why did you murder Iofiel?” Paimon asks.\n\n“For their sword,” you say, before Kesi can answer. Might as well dig your own hole with the truth, rather than whatever lies he’s cooked up. “The flaming sword of an angel is the only thing I could think of that would kill a demon.”\n\n“But surely you couldn’t handle the sword yourself,” Ariel says softly, from the other end of the room. You jump a little. You’d almost forgotten he was there. “It would have burned you badly.”\n\nYou grit your teeth again. “Yes.”\n\n“That was why they needed me,” Kesi adds. “As a lower-class demon, I could touch the sword for longer than Crocell could.”\n\n“So you were going to [[kill Samael on their behalf|behalf]]?” Paimon asks.

Kesi mumbles something you can’t quite catch. He’s standing at the end of the table now, next to Abyss, who reaches out to touch his arm reassuringly. Kesi flinches away from Abyss’s fingers, his face darkening a little. Another chill runs through you.\n\n“Did you torture him?” You ask Paimon. He smiles at you, and you can almost hear the blood boiling inside your head.\n\n“Of course not,” he says.\n\n“Unfortunately,” Cassiel sighs, “we didn’t have to. He told us everything he knew as soon as we offered him your [[title and estate]].”\n

“We may as well,” Paimon says. “[[All in favor]] of binding Crocell on Earth, to atone for their treason and attempted regicide?”\n

[[Every single hand goes up.|every]]

Naberius won’t make eye contact with you. Half of his face is hidden behind his long, glossy black hair. He looks even more pale than usual, sitting between dark-skinned Sitri and Abyss, and he’s picking anxiously at his cuticles. He doesn’t carry himself with the same noble air as Abyss does. You wish he would embrace being the black sheep of the Council a little more. On the Council, his judgements are usually fair, based on facts and evidence, though you know he can’t resist ruling in favor of an [[underdog|the people]].\n

[[Not a single hand goes up.|hand]]

“How so?” Abyss asks.\n\n“Death seems very...final,” Naberius says. His voice is quiet again, and he brushes his hair away from his face, tucking it behind one ear. “There’s a good reason we almost never use it to punish someone for a crime. Ending an immortal life is...serious. And, as we’ve been discussing, there are very few ways to permanently kill a demon.”\n\nPaimon looks thoughtful. “What would you suggest, then?”\n\n“We bind Crocell somewhere,” Naberius says. “Somewhere on Earth, where they can’t harm any other demons. We force them to [[possess]]...something, I don’t know -”\n\n“Something harmless,” Abyss suggests. “And away from any humans. A cave, maybe, or [[a small body of water]].”

You’ve never liked Mephistopheles, and you’re fairly sure he knows it. He tilts his chair back and gives you a big, smug grin full of sharpened teeth, and you wonder for an instant if he was the one who reported you to the Council. But no - there’s no way he had even an inkling of what you were planning. On the Council, he’s usually a swing voter, casting whatever judgement he’s sure will cause the most discord. You don’t think that means he’ll speak in favor of a light punishment for you, [[though|the people]].\n

He nods. His gaze slides [[away]] from you again.

“Maybe if they show signs of rehabilitation.” Naberius shrugs.\n\n“And how am I supposed to do that without a physical form?” you ask, your voice cloyingly sweet.\n\n“You’re a very clever demon, Crocell,” Cassiel says, their voice just as honeyed. “If you were clever enough to kill an archangel, I have no doubt you’ll be clever enough to figure out that little conundrum. Besides, you’ll have lots of time to think about it.”\n\nYou fight back the urge to lunge at them and tear their throat out with their teeth. Giving the Council more ammunition to use against you doesn’t seem like a good idea right now.\n\n“I should note,” Ariel says, “that there are no records of a demon being consistently bound to a non-human vessel for more than fifty years. There’s no telling how it will affect Crocell’s mind, or their ability to hold a physical form.”\n\n“Well, it’s not meant to be comfortable. It’s a punishment.” Mephistopheles gives a demure, cat-like yawn behind his hand. “Can we [[vote]], please?”

“Well, good.” Mephistopheles claps gleefully. “Now we can do the fun part.”\n\nPaimon gives him a split-second look that can only be a warning, before settling back into a more composed expression. “The floor is now open to the Council, for suggestions regarding [[the punishment of Duke Crocell|punishment]].”\n

You aren’t expecting your legs to give out from under you, [[but they do]].\n

You fix their faces in your mind as you’re dragged out of the courtroom. Ariel. Mephistopheles. Cassiel. Paimon. Sitri. Naberius. Abyss. [[And Kesi.|aching]]

[[And how thirsty you are for their blood.|end]]

You clench your teeth so hard that it hurts. This isn’t good. The Council usually could care less about angels being slaughtered, but archangels are something different. Killing such a high-ranking angel could cause problems with the shaky-at-best treaty between Heaven and Hell. And worse, it could get you a much more [[severe punishment]] for this whole business.

The hardest part was figuring out how to kill a demon permanently. You managed to get your hands on the sword of an angel (after killing the angel, of course), but only Kesi can wield it without being burned, and not for very long. That was the one kink you were still [[working out|what]].\n

“I think,” Naberius says loudly, causing the whole table to go silent, “that we are perhaps [[thinking about this the wrong way|wrong way]].”\n

[["I have an inkling."|inkling]]

“Yes,” Kesi says, looking straight at you. “Crocell intended me to be [[their weapon]].”\n

Could they really force you to possess something? Solomon did. Your chest tightens as you remember being trapped like that, too many demons sharing one comparatively small vessel, clawing at each other in desperate bids at escape. Paimon, and Sitri, and Naberius - they were all there, too. They must remember. They wouldn’t inflict that on you [[again|wrong way]].

[[At Kesi standing there.|standing]]

“Crocell’s estate was searched this morning, after their arrest,” Paimon announces to the rest of the Council. He beckons towards the still-ajar door Kesi came in through, and two guards step into the courtroom, bent under the weight of something long and thin, that still manages to have a radiant glow through a shroud of heavy black fabric. “[[Iofiel’s sword|sword]] was found in their quarters.”\n\nThe guards don’t uncover the sword. You know from experience that it will temporarily blind most of the demons in this room if they look at it without a protective layer in the way.

[[How you spoke.|spoke]]

The aching inside of you, the stabbing pain of revenge not yet taken, stays, even when you lose your physical form. Even when you start to [[forget]] what you were before you were a lake.

You roll your eyes. “Crocell. Duke of Hell, forty-ninth demon captured by the prophet Solomon.”\n\n[[“Do you know why you are here, Crocell?”|why]]

[[He doesn’t answer.|search]]

The only thing you remember is the people who [[betrayed]] you.

A lump rises in your throat. You wish you had your fan to cover your face with, so that no one could see you like this. At least it’s not a public trial. You blink away tears, willing them back inside your eyes, where they can’t make messy streaks through your makeup.\n\n[[“Is that what you think of me?” you ask Kesi.|think]]

The Demonic Council is the major judicial body of Hell, with a rotating, seven-seat lineup of judges. The judges are almost always demon nobility, but the rotation is carefully structured so that no one at any given time has very much personal attachment to whoever’s on trial. It’s an efficient enough system. You’ve been tapped to sit on the Council several times before, so you have a little insight into how it works, and how this might go, based on [[the people]] you see sitting around the [[table before you|estate]].\n

“Kesi, please,” you try again, swallowing past the lump in your throat, which seems to have grown bigger, “I [[love]] you. Why are you doing this?”

marn

[[He doesn’t answer you.|you]]

“Is this relevant?” Naberius asks, looking up abruptly from his hands. “I’d rather we not drag this out into a whole classism discussion.”\n\n“Examining the ethics of master-servant relationships would certainly lead to several cases of the pot calling the kettle black,” Abyss adds, their golden eyes glittering mischievously against their black sclera. \n\nPaimon sighs. “Fine. Witness, when did Crocell first approach you to discuss treasonist ideals?”\n\n“Several years ago,” Kesi says. You can see him getting more confident in his betrayal by the second, and it’s like a corkscrew being twisted into your gut.\n\n“And when did they first mention the possibility of assassinating Samael?”\n\n“Just this past year.” Kesi smiles - actually smiles - and you feel like you’re going to be sick. “Crocell told me that they wanted to take Samael’s place as the ruler of Hell. They coerced me into helping.”\n\n“How so?”\n\n“They told me I would be [[put out on the streets]] if I didn’t.”

“Enough,” Paimon says. “Witness. Is it true that you have been in the employ of the demon Crocell for six years now?”\n\n“Yes,” Kesi says. You see his throat tighten and release in a swallow.\n\n“When did they begin a [[romantic relationship]] with you?”

“State your name for the record, please,” Paimon says flatly, bringing you back [[to attention]].\n