Foes Near And Far
"The bargain made was simple, daemon," Malekith finally spoke once more with unholy bemusement.
"A pact of mutual aid. To escape the Realm of Chaos, and in return, a boon of power and strength."
Dechala cackled, madness in her eyes as she beheld him, her serpentine body undulating back and forth.
"
How could I possibly have imagined that the boon, the power…would be all I have desired since my parents first sold me away?!" She'd spoken at first slowly, sibilantly, but the pace increased faster and faster.
"For thousands and thousands of years I have cut my way across the Wastes, through the Realm, even reached the Palace of Perfection, yet ever have I been denied ascension! All because of you, because of you, because of you, because of YOU!" She shrieked the last word and then flung herself forward.
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"Dechala. Our bargain has been fulfilled. Power for service." Malekith spoke fearlessly as she looked down upon him.
The newly born daemon prince breathed in deeply before opening her mouth, letting a large forked tongue taste at the air while simultaneously exposing a set of perfect elven teeth that were stained a mixture of purple, black, and pink.
"Yessssss…the bargain was fulfilled…," she hissed, but it was a two-toned voice, a mixture of her own and that of, disturbingly, Samael.
"And I shall devour his essence forever, and he will have the bond he so desired…but in accordance with my desires…," she laughed.
Dechala twitched slightly before looking down on him.
"Service for power. But I am bound to Slaanesh, mortal," she did not yet speak the word with the derision so many of her kind did,
"Yet all the same, the bargain was made…and I shall fulfill it, for it fulfills the design of the True Prince of Chaos."
The weapons melted away, leaving her six arms free to fold together in a complicated gesture as she bowed ever so slightly.
"Besides which…," she chuckled, a noise that would send weaker willed mortals to their knees and begging to hear it but one more time.
"I was once a Princess of Nagarythe. The irony of serving you, even if momentarily, amuses me."
"Momentarily?" Malekith asked with dangerous note in his voice.
Dechala's face writhed before settling into a blank mask devoid of even the slightest hint of mortal existence, leaning back ever so slightly as she noted the tightened grip on his sword.
"All mortal things are momentary, Witch King. Only that under the purview of the Dark Gods can be truly timeless. You passed through Their Realm, you know this," Dechala said slowly.
"In fact, if you only-,"
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"Mother," Malekith said with only cool acknowledgement.
"You are just in time for our discussion."
"I was unaware that such a thing was planned," she replied haughtily, hefting her arms beneath her chest. "Did I not bring you to this Black Tower when you stumbled back into the docks two years ago? Did I not locate all of Hotek's remaining tools, tear his soul forth to aid in your healing, perform the process myself at the Altar of Ultimate Darkness?"
She cared not that she spilled the information with the daemon within hearing range, for Morathi would brook no insult from anyone, even including her son.
"You did," he inclined his head shallowly.
Morathi narrowed her eyes.
"And now we shall speak on other matters."
"Such as?" She rolled her eyes.
"The Cult of Pleasure."