Daughter of a Demon Lord

(Originally posted on r/WritingPrompts, inspired by this prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1eglgkj/wpa_group_of_demon_worshippers_are_about_to/ )

(TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD with relation to physical and emotional abuse)

"Guys, can we, like, talk about this?" I asked as I pulled against my bonds. "I'm sure there's a far more civilized method of handling this, no?"

"Be quiet," the cultist carrying me said. "Or I'll cut out your tongue."

"Oh, my humblest apologies," I said dramatically as I was laid down on the altar. I grinned. "I shall be a very good girl. The goodest girl in all the--"

"I said shut up!" The cultist smacked my face. Hard.

I shuddered as memories of my old life came flooding back to me. Before I was rescued from the ones responsible for my accidental birth. I could handle being tied up. I could handle being sacrificed to...whatever otherworldly entity they were planning on sacrificing me to. I could handle being stripped naked in the dead of night in the middle of winter. But that smack. It wasn't even that painful with regards to the physical pain. It was the memories.

My birth parents made it abundantly clear that I was a mistake. A burden. That the world would be better off if I'd never been born.

It's in the past, I tried to tell myself. I have a loving family now. I'm loved. I'm cared for. I'm not a burden.

I tried to focus on literally anything but the memories. The cold winter air against my skin. The pseudo-abyssal chanting of the cultists. The dagger glinting in the moonlight as it was held above me.

But it wasn't enough. No matter how hard I tried to push the memories away, they broke through my shield. They just kept coming back stronger. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I wished for something, anything, that could take these memories away from me.

Then, pain. Intense physical pain. Finally something strong enough to distract myself from the memories of my past. Not the healthiest thing to latch on to, I know. I'd much rather distract myself via literally any other method. Usually it was shoveling an entire pint of ice cream into my mouth in one sitting. Often it was binge watching my favorite TV show until the wee hours of the morning.

But since I didn't have any control over my current situation, I'd take what I could get. Even if it was agonizing. The dagger slicing into my skin as they carved what I guessed was some sort of fiendish sigils into my flesh. A pathetic imitation of the real deal, but an attempt nonetheless. The splinters of wood embedding themselves into my skin as the cultists surrounded my body with wood and kindling. The sting of the alcohol being poured over my wounds, no doubt to make me extra flammable. I clung to the pain like a baby clings to their favorite blanket. Anything to keep the memories away.

"Great Lord Razalik, we offer this maiden's blood and soul in supplication to you!" The cultist readied his torch, raising it high above his head.

This was who they were sacrificing me to? I suppressed the urge to laugh. If only they knew. They were pissing off a very powerful demon lord.

"May this unholy offering strengthen you! May you forever feast on the--"

A frigid winter wind extinguished the torch as it howled through the air. The wood they'd placed upon me scattered in every direction. My body became numb from the cold.

Razalik was here. My loving, androgynous parent. The one who rescued me from the ones who spawned me into being. Who adopted me, gave me a home where I could feel safe. Wanted. Loved. They may be a demon lord, but contrary to popular belief, they were quite capable of being a very affectionate parent. And boy, oh boy, were they pissed.

"YOU DARE LAY HANDS ON MY DAUGHTER?" Their voice boomed through the air like a war drum. "YOU DARE ATTEMPT TO SLAUGHTER HER IN MY NAME?"

My bonds evaporated from my wrists and ankles. My wounds closed up, leaving not even a scar behind.

The cultists cowered in fear as I stood, a royal blue robe wrapped around my body to shield me from the cold.

"WHICH ONE OF THESE PATHETIC WRETCHES CAUSED YOU THE MOST PAIN?" Razalik's abyssal form materialized before me.

"That one, Zaza," I said, pointing at the cultist who smacked me. "He smacked me. Just like my birth father did. He triggered the memories."

"THEN HE SHALL BEAR THE SAME PAIN AS THOSE WHO SPAWNED YOU!" Razalik's eyes glowed with a brilliant blue light as he snatched the terrified cultist in his icy claws.

"My Lord, forgive me," the cultist said, his voice trembling. "I didn't know she was your daughter."

"YOU DON'T DESERVE MY MERCY, YOU PATHETIC COLLECTION OF FLESH AND BONE! YOU SHALL FEEL THE WRATH OF A VENGEFUL PARENT! YOU SHALL SUFFER PAINS BEYOND YOUR MORTAL COMPREHENSION!"

The cultist looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Don't look at me," I said, vengeful glee rising within me. "I'm not saving you from my loving guardian's wrath. In fact, I think I'll enjoy listening to your screams. Just like those of my mother and father. I believe Zaza is still not quite done with them. And if my memory serves me well, it's been about...two years?"

"TWO YEARS, ONE MONTH, THIRTEEN DAYS, SIX HOURS, AND FORTY-THREE MINUTES TO BE PRECISE. AND THAT'S NOT EVEN A SLIVER OF THE TORMENT THEY SHALL FACE."

"Knew it was something along those lines," I said, nodding. "Anyways, I don't feel the slightest bit sorry for you."

A portal appeared on the ground in front of me, and Razalik shoved the struggling cultist into it, closing the portal with a wave of his hand.

"WHAT SHALL I DO WITH THE REST OF THESE WRETCHES?"

"I don't care," I said. "Kill them, make them your servants, whatever you want."

Among the cultists was a young boy, about ten or eleven years of age. He looked legitimately sorry for his part in my pain, and seemed more afraid of the other cultists than he was of Razalik.

"Except for that one," I said, pointing to the young boy. "I believe he was forced into participating. He deserves mercy."

"IT IS AS YOU SAY, MY CHILD." Razalik nodded. With one breath, all of the cultists surrounding the altar were encased in ice. All except the young boy.

Razalik's form changed into the more humanoid shape and size that I was used to. Still neither male nor female. A few hints of their abyssal nature were present, but to the untrained eye they just looked like an abyssal-touched tiefling.

"Are you alright?" Their voice was softer, filled with tenderness and concern.

"I think so," I said, nodding. Though I didn't quite believe my own words.

"Come here," they said, their arms wrapping around me.

"I was so scared," I said, tears falling down my cheeks. "I thought I was back there. I thought..."

"Shh," they said, rocking me in their arms. "They can't hurt you anymore, Kayla. I'm here. You're safe now."

I sobbed for a few minutes as Zaza held me.

"I'm so sorry, my child," they said, giving me a gentle squeeze. "I failed to protect you."

"It's okay, Zaza," I said, my tears coming to a stop. "Thank you for rescuing me again."

"I'll be more watchful in the future. I won't let anyone hurt you again. You have my word."

I nodded. Then I glanced over at the young boy. He was huddled on the ground, hugging his knees.

"You okay?" I asked, kneeling down next to him.

The boy didn't respond.

"Can you hear me?"

The boy blinked in acknowledgement.

"Do you have any family we could return you to?"

The boy shook his head.

"You could stay with me if you want," I said. "I'm sure Zaza won't mind."

The boy looked down in shame.

"I don't blame you for what happened to me," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're just a kid. Like me."

The boy looked up at me hesitantly.

I took his hand, helping him to his feet.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"B-Bryan."

"Well, Bryan, why don't you come with us for now? You can stay a few days and see if you like it. And then you can decide if you want to be part of our family or if you want us to find you a different family. How's that sound?"

Bryan looked hesitantly at Zaza.

"You need not fear, child," Zaza said. "I am much kinder than mortals are led to believe. I will not cause you any harm. Even if I wanted to, my Kayla would never forgive me for it."

"So, what do you say?" I asked. "Do you want to come with us? Zaza's really nice. I promise."

"Okay," Bryan said.

"Come on, you two," Zaza said, wrapping a loving arm around the two of us. "Let's get you out of the cold before you freeze to death."