narnianvalkyrieofberk:

writing-prompt-s:

“My lord, I know you are the demon lord and I am but a lowly advisor, but please listen to me. I suggest that instead of sending the hero slightly stronger demons to kill each time, we just send the strongest one right away”

“Do you know why the heroes fight us, advisor?”

“Because…. because we threaten their homeland, my lord?”

“And why do we threaten their homeland?”

“Because Kushiel rules it and she exiled you?”

“Close. Because Kushiel rules it and she must be stopped. But we cannot stop her.”

“I’m… not sure I follow, my liege.”

“I am not surprised. This war started long before you were born, did it not?”

“Yes, my lord, at least a dozen centuries before.”

“And I was at least a dozen centuries old when this war began. We sent our strongest soldiers, our mightiest armies. And Kushiel sent children.”

“Children…? Then… how did we not win?”

“Would you like to fight an army of children? See the light that should have burned a century be snuffed out after barely a decade?”

“Well… not particularly, no.”

“Nor did we, and Kushiel knew this. She gives them no training for she knows the worse off they are the worse it will be for us to face them. This went on for several centuries. She fills her people’s heads with stories, false prophecies about how a child will someday defeat the tyrannical ruler who threatens them. And so, we are helping that prophecy become true.”

“Wait, what?”

“We cannot hope to defeat Kushiel. We do not know her with any intimacy. We cannot predict her movements. All we know is she will keep sending children. So we train them. We send out weakest soldiers, those willing to die knowing their sacrifice will eventually be her undoing. Someday, a hero will come who is able to defeat us. A hero who will slaughter our weakest, then our next weakest, and will continue to do so until even I lay dead at their feet. And then the hero will come here and sit in my throne and peer from my grand window. Sit. Tell me what they will see.”

“It…. It’s a graveyard, sir.”

“Those are the graves of all the children Kushiel has sent to die at our hands. Some became adults before they finally fell, but they were always children when they started. We bury them here. And someday a hero will come who will free us from this grievous task. They will take my throne, sit upon it, and see what Kushiel deemed a worthy price for this mere chair. And then the hero will realize who they must fight next. And thanks to us, they will have gained the strength and training necessary to make sure the prophecy is fulfilled and the tyrant will finally die.”