His dark voice trails down her spine, lighting a path of desire that renders her breathless. "If only I were in a position of no consequence."
Alia's breath wavers when the pad of his thumb slowly glides across her bottom lip.
"Then I could give in...
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"She who laughs last, laughs best." - anonymous
•
Bertraim slowly drums his fingers over one of the armrests of the throne, eyes filled with cruel amusement. "How delightful of you to answer my call," he says. "If I had known that all it required was your name, then I would have searched for Death's name instead."
Greed's upper lip twitches, his displeasure evident. "How did you come to know of it?"
Bertraim hums. "Oh, just from a little mouse called Restal."
Greed bristles at the name. His shirtless frame tenses as he balls his hands into fists, wings adjusting behind him. He begins to turn away, green smoke building at his feet. "A name is only a name," he mutters. "I came because I was curious, not because I was powerless."
The boy's expression darkens at the revelation, and he swiftly reminds himself to continue speaking. "I know of what you did to Lycaon."
The green smoke manages to reach Gule's knees just as the God stops walking and turns his head back towards the throne. His face is blank, but his eyes carry a fragility that Bertraim is eager to break.
"I know you aided in his imprisonment," Bertraim adds. "And I know that he sleeps somewhere underneath this Kingdom because of you."
Gule's sickly eyes darken, and it sends an unnerving chill down the boy's spine. Bertraim tries to play it off, but it forces him to adjust his position on the throne.
"He took from me," Gule answers lowly, the green smoke slowly starting to cover the floor of the throne room. "So I took from him."
"It seems my little mouse failed to inform me of such matters," Bertraim says. "But another mouse of mine did reveal something quite intriguing."
"I do not care for—"
"He got out," he lies.
Gule's blank expression shatters. A fear so fierce and destructive overcomes the God's expression, and it has his skin paling just as Bertraim's body tenses from the potent aura of dread that fills the room.
"And I know where he is."
A hand wraps around Bertraim's throat, nails digging into flesh just as the God dangles him above the throne. Air fails to enter the boy's lungs, and he chokes on the tightening grip around his neck. His hands grab at the God's iron-like fingers, face slowly turning pink.
Unnaturally pale and with eyes slightly crazed, Gule seethes, "I will have you feast on your flesh just for daring to blackmail me. Your knowledge dies here, mortal."
