King Come Down

Written by Bagelgoose and Wolsal

CONTENT WARNING(S): Choking, grotesque injury

Cold. Dark. Empty. It was something Menhir knew all too well. It reminded him of home, the tendrils of God swirling to tear apart the expanse. But this place was... peaceful, in a sickly ironic sense.

The slithering of the future God, the hearts in his body beating, the swirling of his malicious soul, all contrasting with the veins of ancient long ago. The energy through his body was the only reason he found this realm, this prison. All for one reason.

"Hello? Is there, perchance, a certain prisoner here?" He said in a mocking tone. "An unwanted creature? Divine tyrant? Moronic beast?" He laughed loudly as he slid through the pure black expanse.

Sat far back in the void lay the long forgotten King, Beelzebub. Left to rot. His entire body was tense, fur bristled and hands balled in fists, a low growl boiled up his throat. 

Menhir peered and watched, scanning through the empty, featureless jail- sights setting quick on the figure he drew closer to. There was a natural pity in his hearts, but he still marched. Conquest halts for none, especially the heir to a future, delectable age.

“Who the fuck are you.” Solomon snarled, metal clinking as he adjusted his position to be as upright as he could manage, propped up on his elbows.

There was a quiet chittering that penetrated through the naturally silent void. More silent than usual- the guards had already been sent away with the defeat of the final god. This wasn’t the visitor he’d been trying to keep them from though.

He squinted, trying to catch a flaw or inconsistency in his senses that would indicate this was some vision brought on by a failing mind- albeit far different to what he’d usually see. He couldn’t though- as far as he could tell, it, whatever it was, was here. He scowled.

Menhir chuckled again, slithering on forwards with a new hint of confidence. His floating head nodded back and forth, summing up the God before him.

"Pathetic, aren't ya?" He laughed as he got closer and closer. "Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking. Where is the rat! Why are they not here but instead this glorious bastard?"

Solomon shuffled back and away from the person as much as his confines would allow- narrowing his eyes. 

He snickered as he got closer, a malicious smile floating with his head. He was just a few meters in front of the goat now, yet his tail still stretched to where he walked from. 

"Your little vessel has been taken care of, don't worry. And you won't need to die here if you are cooperative. Sounds like a great thing, right?"

“I had no intention of dying here in the first place.” He bit back, refusing to break his glare for even a moment.

"Hmm, not really about your intentions now is it? It's about mine." The serpent snickered again as it drew closer still.

“Either tell me what the hell you want or get the fuck out!” Solomon snapped- puffing out his chest as much as he was able- fists clenching tighter. He began to feel the familiar sensation of blood trickling down his forehead- though he didn’t raise a claw to wipe it away.

"I want your absolute obedience, a follower of mine as I conquer the lands that have abandoned you." His voice laced in hatred, not towards Solomon, but towards the world around him. 

“Now, unfortunately, I won't leave until you accept. I see bright futures for you."

His tail slithered about, starting to wrap around the area around them. A ring of scales, this serpentine figure marching forwards, as if his own being was a mockery of a sin long ago. "Now, do you accept? Or do you desire suffering more than I thought your weak mind would want?"

Solomon scoffed, almost half laughing. He rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah, no. Not a fucking chance.”

He furrowed his brows. “Get lost, mouth face. Not interested.” He seemed to just be getting legitimately more annoyed than he was fearful at this point.

He halfheartedly spat a small mouthful of corrosive acid in Menhir’s direction in an attempt to get him to leave him alone. “Piss off.”

Menhir groaned, his expression growing into boredom. "Insufferable, but expected none the less." He muttered as he leaned forwards.

Sudden. Swift. Strong. 

A swing of the massive trail of a tail slammed into the goat’s side. The swing stung, like thousands of needles poking in. He yelped in pain, jerking to the side though still held by chains as the searing pain momentarily winded him. Menhir watched as he pushed himself back up, breathing heavily. 

  "All bark, no bite. If you're going to be insufferable, at least be strong." The scaled intruder spoke, a hint of disgust in his words as he glowered down.

Solomon gasped for air, the intense aching in his side making each breath burn. 

Menhir slithered up again, his arms behind his back as he tossed an object between his hands. "Even your rat was stronger than you. Just as weak minded though."

“And you think you’re better? Stronger? Not much of a brag to take me on when I’m still stuck here. Killing someone who can’t fight back? Fucking coward.” He hissed out, chest heaving as he still tried to catch his breath. 

He spat a mouthful of acid again at him, scrambling to try and find a single thing he could do to fight back. The chains didn’t give. 

"Coward? Aw, how hurtful." He teased before smacking his tail against Solomon's face, making him hiss in pain. The acid hit his tail, but it was mostly insignificant. A few bubbles, a tinge of pain, it was nothing that his sheer dedication could overpower.

"I've heard tales of how powerful, how terrifying you were! Slaughtering your own sibling? That's cold! And I love the cold." He chuckled as he stopped in front of him, holding the object in his hands just out of reach of him. Khaos, squirming slowly in his hands. Terrified.

"But you had to lose to those weaklings, and then lost everything. And you thought it would be best to give this away? Moron!" He laughed loudly, slamming the tail against his hand, scrapping the scales slowly along his skin.

Before Solomon could manage to react to the sight of his former crown, he felt an intense shock of pain in his hand- his wrist was almost definitely broken. He yelped out in a mix of surprise and pain.

As soon as Solomon got his bearings he bolted forwards- sinking his teeth as far as he could into the beast’s tail.

He reached for the tail, digging his claws into him. He made sure to have as much of the acid make contact with him as possible.

Menhir barked out in pain- yanking his tail away before slamming it along Solomon's neck- pulling him close to him. 

"You insufferable brat!" He was breathing heavily. Despite his preparations, he didn't expect Solomon to be able to fight back this well.

He started to constrict around Solomon's neck, ignoring the pain of the acid to the best of his ability, the only thing thus far to ignore his suit of power. 

Solomon grimaced in pain as he wheezed- trying and failing to draw in a breath.

Menhir raised his claw, flicking a knife into his hand, before stabbing into the side of his jaw.

Before he could think of what to do next, a searing pain spread across his face. He let out a strangled cry of pain, nostrils flaring as he fought back tears welling in his eyes.

"You can't win this. You must know that, instinctually." He was panting out in pain as he tightened the tail, watching as Solomon grew more panicked as he futilely attempted to shove him off- though still maintaining his glare. 

"You've already lost. Now bow, you failure of a god." 

Solomon just shook his head in response- the metallic tang in his mouth sickening him- not dulled even as he felt his head grow lighter and body grow heavier.

A crooked smile soon spreads among Menhir’s wheel of a head, the eyes following the edge shining a bright, violent magenta- an almost unrestrained giddiness seeming to emanate from the glow.
The tightening tail threatened to crack his neck in half- to tear his head off.

But suddenly he dropped Solomon down, loosening the tail and sighing in annoyance. "You're such a lucky bastard, Solomon." He slouched back, sitting on his own tail before chuckling.

Solomon collapsed onto the ground as the grip loosened- panting heavily. It took a few moments for the dark spots to clear in his vision, blinking a few times as he let the world fade back in. 

He pushed himself back up onto his elbows- clenching his jaw before immediately regretting it, the large stab wound on his jaw sending a jolt of pain through his head.  He grimaced, knitting his brows.

Menhir looked down at Khaos, then back at Solomon. 

"Do you miss it? Your power?"

“Wouldn’t you like to know, snake boy.” He hissed out, cringing at the feeling of blood dripping down his chin. 

"Yes, I would, prick." He snapped back, a snicker behind his angered voice. "Twas’ a genuine question, but I already know what a cocky man like you wants. You do miss it. And you can't even deny it?"

He looked up, imagining stars in the sky. Oh how far he could reach, with just a little assistance. "Think about it all. The stars you could claim with your power. You know it's just in my hand, right? Your adornment, a pet more like, garish, and your key to freedom."

He stood up again, starting to slither away with a mock sadness in his voice. "But if the king would rather me bring the rat here to kill him, who am I to deny?" A chuckle as he squeezed slightly while holding Khaos. An interesting trinket, like him, just a tool.

He scowled, suppressing the anger building in his chest. He raised his hand to cover the wound in his face- there was a small pool of blood forming under his head.

 “And you’re any better? You won’t even kill me. You’re no stronger than the rat if you still need me behind you. Sounds more like I’m the key to yours. I won’t be your fucking follower.”

"Better than your brat of a sister. Unlike her I am actually trying to keep you alive." He barked out in irritation, slapping the tip of his tail along his face, purposefully grazing the fresh wound.

His eye twitched in anger- suddenly becoming aware of the skin stretched just a little too tightly around his back. He bit back a retort- don’t give him the satisfaction.  He flinched at the contact on his injury, letting out a stifled hiss of pain.

"And it's not a follower idea. It's a business opportunity tied with a few unfair restrictions." He chortled as his tail slowly wrapped around one of Solomon's wrists, tugging ever so slightly towards him. Towards freedom from this void, and a newfound sentence.

Solomon stared down at his wrist before moving his glare back to the hulking thing above him. He sneered. “I told you no.” He yanked his wrist away as hard as he was able- eyeing the tail carefully.

“I’d rather die than be your fucking pawn, toothy fuck.” He snarled, rage starting to spill over and eclipse his snarky tone.

"We could have that arranged, but I need your presence for something now." He snarled in response as he lunged his tail forwards, wrapping around Solomon's neck again and pulling him towards him, the coil tightening.

Solomon hissed, lurching back in an attempt to avoid the tail- wriggling as much as he could in the grip.

"Egh, no wonder your own blood hated you. You're insufferable!" He remarked, flicking his hand to Solomon, leaving a small scratch along his chin. "It would’ve been best if you died that day. Save me enough trouble." He leaned a little closer, staring down at the goat.

“I’m not-“ He coughed and wheezed- struggling to even get out that much through his constricting throat. “n-nt help-ing yo-u-“ He managed to eke out, voice strangled and pained.

"Help makes this sound friendly!” He couldn't stop laughing at this point, so close to victory. So close to the crusade beginning. "It could have been more friendly, but scum like you couldn't bother to enjoy the conversation."

Slithering, seeping, veins along his body growing more violent as he dragged Solomon along the empty ground, scales digging into the flesh of his neck and starting to tear up the skin. "Oh, I can't wait to see the future like this!"

Solomon hissed weakly in pain as he felt the skin around his neck getting torn up- head growing lighter and foggy. He meekly shook his head, barely even able to hold his eyes open. The chains pulled hard against his arms and legs- feeling as if they were going to get torn clean off of his body.

"Kingdoms erected in my image! Mortals bowing to me like the former pathetic gods! It's beautiful! And all with you by my side as a little souvenir! I wonder if the other gods will be this annoying." He grumbled, stopping as the chains went taught- stopping him from dragging the chained God any further.

His tail thrashed from side to side, a last ditch effort to make it more difficult for him to keep his hold. Dark spots were engulfing his vision, making it harder and harder to hold his stare. 

He let out a final quiet wheeze before his eyes slipped shut- head lulling down as his body went limp in his hold- Menhir watching with the excitement of a predator who’s finally cornered their prey as he went still.

.

Black. Dark. Free. Menhir finally walked through the entrance, dragging his trophy behind him as he trekked his way through the dark misty night.

Later in the night, the moon at its peak, Menhir had Solomon laying on a fine woven bed, the damp walls heating the room comfortably. Menhir sat muttering about dislocated shoulders and annoying chains, before slithering to Solomon.

"Took you long enough to be dragged. Now to wake you up.” He stood now at the edge of the bed- staring down at him. 

“Let's see if you can wake up quicker than the other four." He muttered, a smile on his face as he lifted the tip of his tail, tendrils wrapping around it before he impaled the sharp tail tip into Solomon's leg. 

"One..."

His eyes shot open in a second, sitting bolt upright at the sharp pain. He scrambled backwards- catching himself just before he fell directly off of the bed. His eyes were wide- momentarily having forgotten to cover up his fear.

He looked around frantically- blood staining the front of his shirt from where his jaw had bled onto it. His arms and legs hurt like hell- his right wrist felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire. His neck and jaw felt like they’d been doused in gasoline and set on fire- hells, his whole body hurt like no other. 

His eyes settled onto the thing in front of him, though he had no idea what to even say. He was in complete shock- beaten up and terrified in a new, unfamiliar place for the first time in 500 years.

"Looks like it was just one. Congrats." A chuckle escaped him as he turned around, brandishing the spike on his tail before the tendrils coiled back. "Was hoping it could last longer, but it's clear you're terrified."

He swirled back to the other side of the room, standing against a large series of windows, looking off into the distance. It was somewhat familiar, a vague imitation of Sol Valley, but... Different. Giant crystals were slowly forming, the beautiful trees appeared haunting as the now pink sun set over the horizon, with hundreds of cultists wearing the same mark Menhir wore around his neck.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He said as he turned to him, a playful smile adorning him. "My own little zoo, and don't you forget it. No matter how much they squirm and struggle, it doesn't mean a thing! And it once belonged to you."

Solomon kept his eyes locked on the serpentine beast for a few more moments before letting his vision stray- looking around the room he found himself in before shifting his gaze to the window. What the hell… 

He swallowed hard, ignoring the anxious tightening of his chest. “Where the fuck am I…” He spoke, an almost imperceptible tremor to his voice. 

He looked around the room- scanning for any sort of exit. He mentally prepared to make a run for it the second the opportunity presented itself. He snapped his gaze back to Menhir- shuffling closer to the edge of the bed.

He looked at Solomon, clearly noticing the shuffling. "You thinking about running? I'd advise not to." He snickered quickly before seeming more calm. "Welcome back to Sol Valley- Err, well, it's now dubbed Ichor's Sore." 

He shifted quickly to a desk, pulling out a large book, a Bible. He set it beside Solomon. 'The Tome of Monolith Empire' it read. 

"A long time has passed, Solomon. And in that time an alien has taken over. Me." He smiled a bigger grin, strangely more friendly. Genuine. Proud.

Solomon glared at him, momentarily considering smacking him with the book before thinking better of it. 

Menhir went back to the desk, seeming to go back to working on something. 

"Your adornment is in the table beside the bed if you want your power back. But even with it you can't fight, so don't bother."

He watched closely as he turned his back, waiting a few moments before acting. 

Steeling his nerves he switched his attention to the exit. He pushed himself off of the bed, running towards the door-

Well… he tried to run towards the door. The second any weight was put on his hooves he collapsed to the ground- legs giving out under him. He smacked his head hard on the bedside table on his way down- dazing himself for a couple seconds and leaving a trail of blood from the table to the ground.

Fuck- fuck. 500 years of being chained- the realisation set in, alongside a palpable sense of dread, that he couldn’t walk. His legs didn’t work. He scrambled to try and grab onto the closest piece of furniture to haul himself up.

Menhir was going to say something, a welcome, maybe? Something friendly perhaps? But he couldn't help it. He roared in laughter, a choir of voices suddenly accompanying him in this building.

"Oh, you moron! I told you not to bother!" He started to stifle his laughter, being more calm now as he continued to examine the desk. He waited a moment, seeing Solomon's shaky attempt at getting up before slithering over.

"Oh, how the mighty fall. Or in this case, tumble out of bed." He slowly lowered his hand, offering it. It had an aura of a comforting chill this time, malevolence no longer accompanying him, only the beautiful chorus of his voice. 

"Come on. The ground of this keep is no place for an Archbishop in training."

He hesitated- momentarily considering the help before deciding firmly against it. He pulled himself up so he was leaning against the bed frame. 

“I told you. I’ll die before I work for you, you fucking prick.” He snarled out- baring his teeth. 

"I know you said that, but either way you are trapped in here along with your fellow Gods." He muttered slowly, the choir seeming to talk to themselves. Some showing pity. Some hating Solomon and the gods. Some simply wanted to go back home. Were they his thoughts, or entirely separate voices?

He moved his hand away from Solomon, seeming a little hurt by that as he sighed, back to the desk again. Maybe to ignore his guest for a moment would be best? Let him adapt to the new environment. "You are free to roam this building. I understand your legs are troubled, so I will give you assistants and guides if you wish. I doubt you'd want to see them, but at least one of the Gods want to see you and not kill you."

He scowled, one-handed grip tightening on the bed frame. He felt his fur bristle- entire body tense and rigid as he glared at Menhir. 

He continued attempting to pull himself up- though his broken wrist and unusable legs made it impossible to do anything more than half hold himself up.

He stared down at the floor, feeling a thousand different feelings hit him all at once as he fought back  tears from filling his eyes.

"... You crying?" Menhir said, somewhat mocking the tears rolling down Solomon's face. "Pathetic, but I can't blame you. Must hurt like hell." He waved his hand towards the door, a tendril slipping over and piercing through the door. 

The door opened, revealing a small cultist adorned in robes, with tendrils covering their eyes as they walked over with crutches in hands.

"My offer still stands, or would you rather attempt to stand with these? Perhaps simply rest in bed? If so I can have someone bring you a warm drink, or some foods to help recover." Blunt speech, with various choir voices again. I should kill him, right? His leg seems terrible, ouch. Should I leave him alone? Should I stay? Should I just tell the full truth? Should I free him? 

"I have others to tend to, so I ask you make your decision quick."

He paused, weighing his options. He was in pain- a lot of it at that. His jaw- his joints- his wrist- his neck- his leg- his failing body only amplified the pain he was in. Maybe he could accept one thing-

No- no this guy just tried to kill him. He couldn’t risk being poisoned or struck down in a moment of weakness- he couldn’t. Not yet at least. 

“I don’t need your help.” He spoke finally, a shake present in his voice.

"You say that, but you do hesitate." He chuckled, sighing before slithering closer to the bedside where Solomon clung to. 

Before he could protest he reached down, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and practically tossing him onto the bed before he could lash out. 

Solomon let out a surprised yelp, landing on the bed with a soft thump. He lay still for several moments, catching his breath as his broken ribs practically screamed at him with each inhale. 

Menhir made his way to the bedside table. He reached in the drawer and pulled out an... oddly terrified looking Khaos. It squirmed, a serpent currently, before looking to Solomon. Menhir haphazardly chucked it over to him before going back to the desk again. Man, he's obsessed with whatever he's working on.

"Take your pet back. I don't have a need for it." He muttered before scribbling something onto a piece of paper on the desk.

 It looked like a surprisingly detailed list of notes beside an accurate image of Solomon. Different views of him, notes about his past. Everything. Even things a certain stone titan had written about him. Another glance, and there were many more papers like that. Of all the Gods. Of all the Prophets and followers. Everyone.

Solomon quickly caught the crown, snapped back to his bearings. He caught a glimpse of the papers, admittedly intrigued if not worried by whatever Menhir had been writing. He shuffled as close as he could to surreptitiously take a glance at what it was. A pit formed in his stomach as he caught sight of the page.

Mental stability, physical scarring patterns, family and friends both dead and alive. Everything. Everyone. Surprisingly, the page of Solomon had much more than anyone else's. Menhir's handwriting filled with the physical, while the other's was more mental, emotionally detailed.

One of the pages Menhir had somewhat torn, of the very stone titan that wrote Solomon's page. Father. Hate. Anger. Many things written in angered handwriting. 

The level of excruciated detail sent shivers down his spine- the notes rang familiar in a sense, but had a different feeling to them at the same time. A secondary- more embarrassed pit formed in his stomach when he recognised the source of some of the notes. Ohhh shit.

A part of him wondered how many of those drawings and notes had been done while he was knocked out just a few minutes ago- the thought made him feel a little sick.

Menhir suddenly looked to Solomon. "What? Curious about these flimsy papers of old? They are nothing more than information passed down."

He stumbled back a little, shaking his head. He didn’t have any questions or curiosities he didn't have the answers to. At least none worth asking, much less wanting the answers to. He, unfortunately, did remember enough to know that. 

He did have to wonder how those books and notes had even been acquired, though the context that Menhir was seemingly his son…

He wasn’t the biggest fan of that fact. 

“No I-… no.” He responded, swallowing hard.

Another glance back, clearly irritated by Solomon's manners. "Ask. I will answer honestly. You have more freedom and knowledge than any person in my Keep. I recommend you use that privilege to its fullest." 

He already knew what Solomon's worries were. His thoughts, at least he assumed. He was mostly irritated by the emotional wall between the two. He needed to break it.

"You are free to look at the papers if that's what you want." He said half-heartedly. He slithered to the side, arms crossed and an expecting expression. All his secrets were open, but it felt off. "Or is it something else? Your honesty will reward you down the line."

He shuffled back, shaking his head again. “I don’t have any questions.” He hissed out, wrapping his tail around himself as some sort of physical barrier. His shoulders were shrugged to his chin, entire body tensed up. He eyed him for a moment, fur bristling.

With no warning he spat a mouthful of acid at him- not necessarily in the hopes of accomplishing anything, more just to get back at him, even if in a small way.

Menhir simply stared at Solomon, the acid landing along his tail. It would've burned, but his scales shined a new brightness. They looked like diamonds, barely affected by the acid. He scoffed, organizing his papers. "Adorable."

He set them in neat piles, staring extra intently at the paper scribbled along, and at Solomon's. "Can't believe you were his curiosity."

 "He barely cared for me and mother... But you..."

He muttered to himself, setting the two scattered along the desk before starting to slither to the door of the room, continuing to mutter about how much he hated this world, his father, and his envy towards his new prisoner.