My Sweet Mortal | Chapter 7

Deroki's ears twitched at Marisel's sharp chuckle, pulling him from his thoughts. His gaze snapped toward her, his expression darkening.

"What?" he growled, his tone dripping with irritation.

"Oh, nothing," Marisel replied airily, an amused smirk curling her lips. "It's just so rare to see the mighty god brooding. Careful, brother, you might get permanent frown lines."

"Don't you have anything better to do than sneak up on me?" Deroki retorted, his voice biting.

Marisel feigned concern, placing a hand theatrically on her chest. "But it's my duty to care for you. Seeing you so tense makes me worry."

"Tense?" Deroki's laugh was harsh and hollow. "Why the hell would I be tense? I'm merely savoring the rare peace of this mortal realm. The guards, the maids—they're always running about, pestering me with their mundane nonsense. And you, sister, hovering over me like a vulture. Do I not deserve even two seconds of solitude?"

"Why so defensive?" Marisel asked, her tone purposefully needling.

Deroki narrowed his eyes at her. "If you think I have somehow fallen in love with an omega just because I slept with him once, you are mistaken, sister. There are far more important matters to contemplate than a whore from our house of pleasure."

Merisel's face hardened, her expression taut with anger. Deroki knew he had struck a nerve. Like most members of the enclave, his sister detested the dismissive use of the term "whore" when referring to the sacred enclave members.

"Must you always degrade the enclave members like that?" she snapped, her earlier jesting tone replaced with icy disdain. "They're not whores, Deroki. You should know better."

"I don't what you call them," Deroki shrugged.

"I know, Deroki. I know you are incapable of love—no, wait—caring about anyone but yourself," Marisel said, her voice dripping with mock pity. "So, to think you would spare a thought for a loyal omega who has spent his life worshiping you is laughable, isn't it?"

Deroki's lips curled into a smug smile. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back slightly, a picture of nonchalance. He didn't need to confirm her accusation; Marisel wasn't expecting an answer, just venting her irritation.

"Well," she continued, her tone sharp, "I should get back to mentoring him. He'll need to learn a few things before taking his first lover as a vaisa. From what I hear, nearly every royal Alpha has requested his services. He's already booked for the next year. I might have to advise him to pace himself, though—knowing how open-minded he is about these things, I wouldn't be surprised if he started entertaining two lovers a day."

Her words were calculated, aimed to provoke. But Deroki merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

He leaned back, his posture relaxed. "Good for him," he said flatly. "Is your needless chatter done? I have more important things to attend to."

Marisel stepped aside with a mocking bow. "By all means, brother. Don't let me keep you."

Deroki moved past Marisel without sparing her another glance, his long strides taking him toward the administrative section of the palace. The halls were adorned with opulent tapestries and columns, but Deroki hardly noticed, his thoughts already occupied. Upon reaching the Chancellor's office, he pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped inside.

Gerald, ever the picture of efficiency, rose from his chair and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty," he greeted.

The room reflected Gerald's meticulous nature, every inch of the large space utilized with precision. Shelves lined with ledgers and scrolls covered the walls, while a massive desk dominated the center, cluttered with documents in what appeared to be organized chaos. Despite Deroki's general disdain for mortals, he appreciated Gerald's rare competence. Few humans impressed him, but Gerald had earned his respect through years of unerring dedication.

"You summoned me?" Deroki asked, his voice steady but edged with curiosity.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Gerald replied, already rifling through the stack of papers on his desk. After a moment, he retrieved a long piece of parchment and held it out.

"There is news from the Capital City," Gerald began, his tone grave. "The former king—disgraced and deposed—has been rallying a hidden army. He claims it is now large enough to challenge the throne, which is currently held by his omega son. The former king seeks an audience with you. He requests your assistance in reclaiming his throne."

Deroki raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "He wishes to enlist my help? A king who cannot defend his own crown?"

Gerald hesitated before responding. "Yes, Your Majesty. However, I do not advise aiding him. Still, it may be prudent to hear his proposition. Understanding his intentions could allow us to prevent greater upheaval."

Deroki's smirk widened. "And why should I concern myself with his intentions?"

Gerald straightened, his expression cautious but firm. "The former king still wields significant influence, and his rebellion could lead to widespread destruction. His followers are fiercely loyal. If war erupts, it could devastate the Capital City and potentially destabilize the surrounding regions."

Deroki's lips curled into a faint smile, the corners of his mouth twitching with interest. "Is that so?" he drawled, leaning back slightly.

The chancellor's unease deepened, his brow furrowed with worry. "The potential loss of life would be staggering, Your Majesty. More could perish in this conflict than in any famine or plague we've seen in the last ten years."

Deroki tilted his head, considering. Empathy was foreign to him, and feigning it was an art he had little patience for. But he also had no desire to unsettle Gerald more than necessary. "I'll give it some thought," he said finally, his voice smooth. "This is not a decision to be made lightly."

Relief flickered across Gerald's face. He bowed deeply. "Of course, Your Majesty. Let me know when you're ready, and I'll prepare the appropriate response."

Deroki offered a polite smile, careful to mask the flicker of excitement stirring within him. He turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. The seeds of intrigue had been sown, and he relished the thought of where they might lead.

Alther, his brother, one of the gods, materialized abruptly, blocking Deroki's path in the grand corridor of the administrative wing. His presence radiated divinity, his towering form a stark contrast to Deroki's mortal shell. He resembled a flawless marble statue, with pristine, milk-white wings that nearly grazed the high ceilings.

"What a pleasant surprise," Deroki said dryly, his tone thick with sarcasm.

Alther's stern gaze didn't waver. "I should have stopped Gerald from informing you about the king."

"Why didn't you?" Deroki asked, folding his arms.

Alther sighed, exasperated. "The palace officials worship you like sycophants. Even if I'd ordered Gerald to stay silent, he wouldn't have dared defy you."

Deroki smirked smugly. "You're right. They adore me."

"'Adore' is the wrong word," Alther corrected. "They fear you. Their devotion is born of terror, not affection. Isn't that why you chose to be reborn as a mortal? To reignite their reverence and remind them of your existence?"

Deroki's jaw clenched, his irritation barely contained. Once, he had been the most powerful of gods, unmatched in strength and influence. Now, his powers were but a faint echo of their former glory, leaving him just above mortals in strength. Yet, he didn't need divinity to command respect—or fear.

"What do you want, Alther?" Deroki asked coldly, masking his animosity toward his brother and the gods who had cast him down.

"I am here to stop you."

"Stop me from what?"

"From helping that king."

Deroki's lips curved into a sly smile he couldn't suppress. "I haven't even decided what I'm going to do yet. Why are you so sure I'd help him?"

"Because I can feel it," Alther snapped. "That gleam in your eye whenever you think about defying the gods. But this isn't about the gods, Deroki. They won't suffer if you aid that tyrant. Mortals will."

"Then the gods should stay out of it, shouldn't they? Let me handle my mortal affairs."

"Millions could die if he goes to war," Alther pressed, his voice tightening with urgency.

"Mortals breed like rats," Deroki replied dismissively. "History shows that no matter how catastrophic the losses, they always bounce back."

Alther's expression twisted in revulsion. "How can you be so heartless, brother? Don't you feel even a shred of remorse for the beings who revere you?"

Deroki let the silence stretch before delivering his reply with cutting finality. "No."

"You disgust me," Alther spat. "No wonder the gods punished you with the cruelest fate imaginable."

Deroki's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. "The gods can go fuck themselves." Without waiting for a response, he brushed past his brother and continued down the corridor toward his chambers.

***

Chapters 8 and 9 are already up on my Patreon.

Link in previous chapter.