Return

Bleak with dread and pain surrounded her as she made it to the throne room through the passage she took. Her bare foot, scratched and bloodied, felt the soft carpet against skin. The sound of people shuffled and rustling of clothing entered her ears. They were still ringing, and her eyes were still blurry, unable to focus through the haze. 

Raven hair was matted with the blood slipping down her temples, merging with those on her cheek to combine with the rest of her wounds. Her left arm was the worst of it; arrows still stuck through the limb dying the once creamed arm red. Her black dress was ripped and there were holes through the cloth. She reached her workable arm and touched the arrow, the one pierced mere centimeter from her heart, and pulled it out.

The scream of pain she shouted out echoed the room as the noises of others stilled. Harsh breathes puffed out of her chapped broken lips. Holding the arrow before her foggy eyes, she blinked her honey eyes to focus. This arrow, this arrow could have been the end of her. 

Tossing it off to the side, she attempted to push herself up, but faltered.

'Damn it!' She yelled inward as her body shook from the loss of blood.

"My queen!" A few voices filtered through and she took a deep stuttering breath.

"Help me to my throne."

She felt arms slung under hers, as she was lifted and placed onto her rightful seat. Sweat and blood were mixed with one another, soaking the dress and skin even deeper. Eyes moving to the passenger she brought, they narrowed as she spoke.

"Chain him to the wall here," her voice commanded, but it was barely a whisper.

Her servants did not question her as they did as she asked. They pulled the purple demon over to the wall to her left, close to the doorway. The demon was still unconscious due to her pushing a bit of her demonic power to subdue him. She couldn't let Him take the demon because she knew they would exploit him and Samael was a stupid fool. He would do anything for himself.

"My queen," a female servant spoke up close by, "Your wounds, let us tend to them."

Her glazed eyes looked to the worker and she nodded once. They normally do not need healers or medic in Hell. They were able to heal easily, especially those in higher ranks, but there were times like these where one's body refused to heal.

She heard the sloshing of water in bowls, barking orders of the main healer, and the sound of ripped fabric. Then all she felt was pain, excruciating like needles scratching against her bones. She wasn't sure if she passed out or not, but the darkness pulsed against the fuzziness she could see. 

"Water, my queen," she heard from someone and a glass was placed against her lips.

Liquid drizzled down her throat and she gulped it down, with the excess trailing down the corner of her lips. She felt a cloth against her face, wiping the dirt and blood away. Licking her lips, she felt the cut against her tongue and winced slightly from the burn. Looking to the side, she saw some of her workers cleaning the floor where her blood spilled, some helping her into a robe, a plate of food before her, and others waiting and watching her expectantly.

Eyes slowly coming to clarity, she sat up with a gasp and a wince. 

"Thank you," she said softly, "You have waited patiently for my return."

"Of course, my queen," she heard them say with a bow.

"Samael will be punished for uprooting what my father created," she let out a breath, "Those in Heaven will not breach Hell."

"We thank you my queen," the elder of the servants bowed once more, "Do our queen need anything more from us?"

She thought for a moment as her breathing slowed and her eyelids felt heavier. Does she need anything more? They have done excellent in what she had asked of them and were very loyal to her father.

"What are your requests? Do you wish to be free?" She wondered looking at the elder half lidded.

"No my queen, your father had been kind to us," the elder stated bowing his head.

"I wish to create a festival in thanks to all you do for my father and I," she smiled out a sigh, "What do you think?"

"What? Is that… what you really wish to do?" Some of the workers began to whisper in surprised, but the grin on their faces told her their answers.

"Yes," the queen nodded and closed her eyes, "I shall rest first…"

"Would you like to move to your chambers, my queen?" The elder asked, only to hear nothing from those lips, but soft breathing.