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Phil pressed forward, his robes flowing behind him. The sun poured over the walls, the bright shine of the snow reflecting in more light during the ever-morning months. He was used to the castle and it's blinding mornings and winding halls. His stroll took him to the tea room, scuddling feet from behind racing after him.
The servants dipped into a curtsey as he passed. The scampered-feet paused to watch their poise, perhaps out of jealousy. As they were told, the servants ignored the creature and Phil had done the same, going about his morning as usual. He let the doorman open the tall wooden entrance, pausing for only a moment which had been enough for the little thing to stumble over its toddled feet, landing on his robes.
Phil looked over his shoulder, studying the cursed creature in bright pink hair, piggy ears, and fangs for teeth. They’d toppled onto his clothes, eyes weathered from the fall and the emperor frowned. He took his robes and yanked them away.
The child let out one of its squeals as it tumbled off.
The Emperor wasted no time, heading into the tea room. Unfortunately, the creature followed after him, shy of the door catching his tail.
The creature grew slowly, hardly of use to any part of the castle. All it could do was roam the halls and search after the Emperor, only to stare at him with his beady, soulless eyes. After a few days of horrible messes in its wake the first week they arrived, Phil assigned a nurse to teach it proper manners around the palace. It took far too long and several series of punishments to learn where it was allowed to defecate.
The thing was difficult to train, shying away from all his staff. However Phil hardly found it to be his struggle. The best tamer had progressed well enough to where the creature could follow commands for a few moments. Or until Philza exited the room to which the creature believed it well to disregard any and all commands to trail the emperor.
He'd often shoo it away. But its head was empty of any logical thought, instead reaching for his hand with its clawed finger tips. Philza battered them away and rolled his eyes, walking off. And well enough it would follow. To the office, to the tea room, to his breakfast, to the garden. It even insisted on joining the war room and sit-in with his advisors. It used to have enough sense to hide behind his chair, but as the days went by it became bolder; exploring the rooms it wandered in, even approaching others to beg for trinkets like an imp.
He'd gotten a few comments on the stray too which he quelled down. The implications of having a poor handle on his beasts infuriating the Emperor to no end.
He made sure to lock up the creature for most days.
And still it kept escaping. Wailing as it ran into his legs the moment it caught sight. It would take three guards to unlatch it, tie it up and drag it away.
He took relief while the creature sat in the dungeon. Only for a few days. Before the creature managed to mangle its hands in escape, outrun its guard just before its meal, and track down Philza’s location by what could only be assumed by scent.
The nurse caring for the beast needed guards to hold it down while she managed their wounds. She presented her observations of the creature's affinity towards bright objects and soft things, noting that since Philza had the majority of such objects, the beast latched himself onto the emperor to gain proximity to its wants.
Phil frowned at the idea of rewarding such sordid behaviour, only agreeing to give it a blanket or two of middling quality.
Then for a few solid days, the halls were spotless of the cursed creature. He frowned to find it in the room, curled up on a freshly made bed for a prince. The sight disgusted him, the creature’s hideous features juxtaposed to the fineries of the palace. He allowed the creature to rest within the confines of the room, ignoring the churning in his stomach at the sight in favour of having the thing contained at last. He ordered the creature be left with a few poorly cut jewels and his cheaper metals to satisfy its want for shiny things.
The nurse said it behaved differently while wearing the jewellery. It'd refuse to remove anything, even biting her hand when she'd make an attempt to do so. She was sure to correct it and since then Phil agreed on ensuring the thing were sedated in some way when handling it. After just a day or so, servants noted how the more it wore its jewellery, the worse attention it paid to them, or any action they took upon it. After several rounds of moving a few of his goods into its room, the more the creature was calmed when surrounded by his things. It'd allow the servants the feed him and clean him. And eventually, when Philza had nearly all his objects of gold within the room, it fell into in a perpetual state of sleep.
He’d not seen the creature out of the room since the day he enforced the change. But just in case, the servants made sure to keep the room and creature clean, ensuring Philza's gold and gems remained in place. Not a treasure out of place lest the creature rouse the terrorise the palace once more.
Phil did not know where the beast hailed from, did not know how it could have entered his home, much less occupy the room reserved for his son should Phil ever marry for an heir, a prospect unwarranted at his youthful age of 400.
He shuddered at the thought of children, unsure when he could have possibly proclaimed to ever —
Phil had been in a daze for the past year with the creature-child appearing in his halls. Its unseemly nature and attachment far too much, as though from a dream. And under the realisation of such a fact, of its relentless nature, lack of evolution of learning, snapped the answer into his mind.
He offered his goddess many things over the years. His death, his empire, his elderly years, and his children should he ever be blessed with them in the mortal world. He never undermined the goddess’s will and he needed a great sacrifice to make amends.
She had warned him before of what his services would entail when he declared his life to her. He would welcome her and her kin with open arms. He would bring forth her spirit into the world by way of her culling the non believers. And she would do so with his wings and the talent of her sons.
He sent his letter, written in his finest death willows ink. Ordered the servants to bring the finest wine and fruits and silks for the Lady’s altar.
It was arranged, the walls of the round altar room were lined with candle holders under the pillars. Their faces were dark in shadow and he knelt in the bed of white tiger lilies surrounding her gifts.
The sacrifice slept, eyes dreary and her body unfeeling. Her hair was just as dark as the last day she’d been in the altar despite her age. They would require a new vessel soon.
Her breath shallowed and the shine in her eyes dimmed.
Phil smiled, unbothered by the chill in the air. The room, once bright in the Antarctic sun, vanished into the dark. The only light emitted from the dim candle holders, their bodies motionless. He kept his head low in watching as her vessel’s eyes returned to their wonderfully dark void, a smile stretching through her cheeks and onto him. Her grin infected his and before he could properly bow in reference, her hand snatched his neck, capturing his lips.
He pressed into her, letting himself fall into her gravity.
Her touch was heavenly, her body cool as a pond in the night.
He pulled away, only when he was desperate for air. Her smile remained. Before he could speak, his love had done so, saying, “I have missed you, my dearest.”
Phil kissed her again. “When you deliver your sons, the world shall become ours and we shan't ever be parted again.”
Her black eyes glinted as though he were making a jest. “My darling. I’ve sent him.”
His heart stopped. “How will I know it is him?”
She leaned in, her lips pressed to his ear and cradled his head against hers.
And she spoke, “He will not rest until he finds you, and you declare him the heart of your treasures. And when it is done, you shall have a son, and he will be ours.”
Phil stormed through the palace halls, his pace hurried as the nurse and servants followed after him. The guards at the door stepped aside as he threw it open and marched through.
The walls were tall and decorated in warm inviting colours, gold filling the room over every inch and enough to blind a man. In the nest of gold embroidery sheets and smocks and vests lay a small creature, just as small as when they appeared in the palace, hands pink as his, ears cupped and round as his, and nose, small and buttoned as his Lady Death's.
He brushed back the babe’s hair, turning them to face his father. For a moment the eyes were a shineless black for a beast before blinking into colour, red rims glimmering in the ever Antarctic sun. The babe reached up, taking hold of Phil’s golden hair and cooed.
The emperor lifted the babe into his arms and pressed him into his chest. His wings encased them, and his chest warmed as the child’s sweet hands grasp onto his robes. Something they'd done many times before, relentless to chase his father just as his mother made him do.
His lips stretched into his cheeks, petting his silky locks, his heart hammered in sight of the omen. He would raise the child, bring them up as his chosen general. He would ensure he was the strongest in both mind and spirit, with fidelity to his mother first and foremost as her harbinger, carving the path of the empire into her design.
Philza would become the child's father.
Lady Death was forever his mother.
And he would become the Blood God.