Beetle looked up at his mother, lounging on the throne to the level of Hell her father gifted her, and prayed to Shar that she wouldn’t see through the request he was about to put forward.
“Mother,” Beetle begins. He bows deeply - the deeper the better with his mother. Down on his knees, arms crossed on the ground in front of him with his head resting on his crossed wrists. Her fickle mood swings on an even more volatile pendulum than his own but they’re a thing he’s learned to navigate safely.
Mostly. No one’s perfect.
“Yes, darling?” her voice is disinterested. He hasn’t caused trouble for her in a fortnight and so, he knows, she wants him out of sight and out of her way. Instead her attention is fully upon the pair of Succubi draped artfully against her legs.
“I humbly request leave to spread your influence farther than it’s already reached upon the Material Plane,” Beetle stays bowed. She hasn’t given him permission to stand and so it’s nearly suicidal to do so. The only show of nerves he allows himself is the uncontrollable twitching from his tail wrapped tightly around his waist.
She’s quiet. For the longest time the only sound that Beetle can hear is the tittering snickers of the succubi entertaining his mother.
“And why should I let you out of my sight?” his mother finally demands. “Why should I expend the resources to send you to another realm?
‘To give me someone other than the palace staff to harass’ Beetle doesn’t say.
‘Because you don’t want me here anyway’ He thinks to himself.
‘So that I can live without worry about losing more of myself to your anger’ He doesn’t even dare let himself consider.
“So that the denizens of the Material Plane will know better to fear you as they know to fear Grandfather,” is what Beetle eventually settles upon. “They only know whispers in the dark right now - by the time I’m finished they’ll be afraid to even speak your name.”
His mother is silent for another long while and this time the Succubi are equally as quiet. It goes on for long enough that the twitches of his tail start escaping to the rest of his body, fear of the pain he expects to fill his immediate future for trying to escape from his mothers harsh grasp.
Therefore when a hand touches his shoulder Beetle can’t help the full bodied flinch that he isn’t fast enough to hide.
His mothers fingernails dig into his shoulder to keep him from flinching away from her again. But once he’s simply kneeling in front of her, his arms folded behind him politely - just how he was showed by one of her Imps as a toddler - she gifts him with a pleased smile.
A pleased smile?
Beetle feels his heart beat faster in excited anticipation. Did she like his plan?
Is she giving him his freedom?
“Finally you’ve found a use for yourself,” his mother coos sweetly at him. “I’ll have a portal prepared for you, my son.” She reaches forward and gently caresses the side of his face. He lets himself enjoy the contact and finds his eyes drifting shut as he leans into it.
“Thank you Mother,” Beetle hopes his bone deep relief at not being struck is hidden behind the thin veneer of love that he’s trying to paste over top of it.
“What’s more is I shall gift you with my blessing,” she continues, the sweet tone taking on an edge sharper than any sword. “So that I might check in and see how well you’re doing,”
There’s no way to turn her down without getting himself into trouble.
“More than I’d hoped to ask for and much more than I deserve,” Beetle says as she turns to return to her throne.
“You may leave,” she says as she walks. “Prepare yourself and any belongings you think you’ll need on your travels.”
Beetle stands and backs out of the throne room. Another lesson he learned young - never turn his back on his mother if he could help it.
Very soon, though, he won’t need to worry about things like that any longer.
