Still dressed in his bloody black spiny armor, Thorn stood in front of his fireplace, pouring himself a well-needed drink.
The doors behind him swung open so forcefully that they rattled on their hinges and preceded a wind sweeping through the room with such ferocity that it put out the fire and froze his armor.
There was only one person he knew who would have that audacity. “Something wrong, Father?” He turned slowly to confront the angry giant.
“How could you!”
Thorn set his frozen wine and goblet on the mantle, and prepared to be dragged across the proverbial bridge. “I asked your permission.”
“To assemble an army. Yes. To use that army to fight my soldiers … you knew I’d never agree to such.”
Thorn shrugged with a nonchalance that was probably suicidal. But really, he didn’t care. “You’re the one who failed to ask questions.”
Noir drew back to hit him.
Thorn caught his wrist before he could complete that blow. “Think before you strike. I’m not one of your demons, and I don’t take a hit without dealing one back in turn. Father or not.”
That caught his father off-guard and was enough that Noir dropped his hand. “Your audacity is without equal.”
“I’m the product of my breeding. If you have issues with it, perhaps you should look inward.”
“You are a cheeky bastard.”
Rolling his eyes, Thorn turned and headed for his own throne. “Do you have something more productive than insulting me?”
Noir’s nostrils flared. “I want my army back.”
“I like them where they are. I find that a private army suits me.”
“Of course, you do, you brat. You were supposed to be your sister’s general. Not off on this … I don’t even know what to call it.”
“Youth rebellion. I’m told it’s natural for a child to refuse to follow in the footsteps of their parents. Especially when they don’t agree with them.”
That made Noir’s eyes turn a vibrant red. “You are a warlord.”
Thorn steeled himself at something he’d once taken pride in. But those days were gone. “Was, Father. I was a warlord.”
“And what are you now?”
“The thorn that nettles you every time you move.” He recklessly smirked. “I want your agreement that in the future I’m able to redeem the soldiers I pick for my army.”
Aghast, Noir’s jaw dropped. “You want what?”
“An out for those who’ve been damned. Not just here in Azmodea, but in other hell realms, too.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Given my relationship to you and Azura, it’s a good bet.”
Noir shook his head. “I don’t have the authority to grant you that.”
“Yes, you do. You have diplomatic agreements with other dark gods and Chthonians. I want your word that you’ll back me for negotiating redemption for my people.”
“Why would I do such a thing? They were damned for a reason.”
“True. But it seems to me that if a single act could damn someone to hell, then an equally good or decent act should be able to save them.”
Noir crossed the room to tower over him. An act of intimidation that only served to solidify Thorn’s resolve. “I curse the day I created you.”
