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Chapter 6: A Mother's Worries.
🕑 Added 2025-12-13 08:41:59 +0000 UTCA Marvelous Devil:
Chapter 6: A Mother's Worries.
Celestine Andromalius.
The Underworld.
Friday, one day before the dinner.
“Are you sure this is necessary, mother?” Dante sighed softly, as if he were humoring me rather than truly complaining.
I paused my actions, my fingers still fussing with the collar of his shirt. For a moment, I simply looked at him, trying to understand what had changed.
It was strange. That was the only word that came to mind. My son stood in front of me just as he always had, same height, same build, the same familiar face I had watched grow year after year. And yet… something was different. Not visibly, at least not in any obvious way.
But as a mother, I could tell it was there.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” I said lightly, forcing a smile as I smoothed the fabric anyway. “Of course it’s necessary. You’ve been invited to dinner by the Sitri family. We can’t have you showing up dressed like you’re heading to training.”
“And considering you avoided focusing on the invitation for two days,” I added, giving him a soft glare, “it’s the least you can do for me, no?”
He didn’t argue. That alone should have reassured me that he was taking the situation seriously. Instead, it made my chest tighten.
He should have complained. Not loudly, but his irritation should have been more obvious. He should have pouted, following me with a faint frown, trying to convey anger that wasn’t real.
He had always been a momma’s boy.
His eyes flicked down to my hands as I adjusted him, then back up to my face. There was some kind of wonder in his gaze.
“I don’t see why you take this so seriously, Mom,” he said evenly. “I told you I could deal with it. You didn’t trust me.”
My eyebrows twitched, and I quickly pulled his cheek. “You have no idea how important this is, young man. Our family has been ignored for centuries by people who were once our peers. This invitation is an opportunity for you. So that you can have a better life than what we can give you.”
That earned me a look. Not irritation or even embarrassment as I had hoped.
No, it was sharper. As if he already knew what we hoped for and simply didn’t care about it.
When had that look started appearing? I couldn’t remember noticing it before yesterday. Or maybe I had and simply brushed it aside because it was easier not to think about it.
It had worried me when he was younger that Dante had no siblings despite how hard we tried; even less visitors, but he'd never seemed to mind.
Other children played while he watched from a distance, content to be alone.
At first, I'd feared loneliness. Later, I realized he simply wasn't interested.
Playdates ended in polite boredom. Invitations were declined without fuss. He was never rude, or even difficult. Just… detached, in a way that felt too mature for his age.
Now, standing in front of him, I wasn’t so sure. If I had thought he was more mature than most children here, it couldn’t compare to how he had been acting lately. And it had come out of nowhere.
“Dante,” I said gently, patting his head this time, letting my fingers brush over his golden locks the way I had done since he was small. “This is important, not for us, but for your future. Being our son made your life harder than we wanted it to be. Please, do this for me.”
His eyes locked with mine. Something tried to appear before his expression went neutral. Surprise? Uncertainty? I couldn’t recognize it before they disappeared.
It wasn’t anger. Of that, I was certain.
He frowned and stepped back, out of my reach. The movement was subtle, but it hit me harder than it should have.
I forced a smile.
Why was he acting as if he didn’t know what to do with my affection? As if my love made him uncomfortable.
That scared me.
Could devils get puberty twice?
“Are you alright, baby?” I asked softly. “You know you can talk to me about anything, yes?”
He hesitated. My stomach dropped at the sight.
When his gaze finally met mine, I felt it again. That strange sensation I couldn’t put into words. His eyes were still the same pale blue I loved, still familiar, still my son’s.
But they felt… older.
Too knowing. Like he could see past my every attempt, read through every intention before I could do anything about it.
He was measuring me. In a way no child should measure their parents.
“I’m fine,” he said at last. “Really. I should be training instead of wasting time on a dinner I was invited to so late. They don’t care about me. With such short notice, it’s clear they’re testing us.”
I nodded, even as doubt gnawed at me. Since when was he so knowledgeable about politics? It was one of the few things neither Hadrian nor I had ever trained him in.
Mainly because we didn’t understand it ourselves. The cause of many of our problems.
Hadrian and I had been pushing him. I knew that. The invitation, the attention, the sudden expectations that came with his growth. Hadrian refused to slow down, convinced that if we didn’t seize the opportunity now, it would pass us by forever.
I understood his fear. Our name had fallen far from what it once was. Enemies made long ago still lingered, and pride had cost us more than either of us liked to admit. Hadrian’s pride, especially. He would rather endure hardship than bend. He always had.
But Dante…
I looked at my son again, standing there with that calm, almost detached look at the opportunity Hadrian had fought so hard for.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were asking something of him we didn’t yet understand.
“Come on,” I said, forcing brightness back into my voice as I grabbed my cloak. “At least give me this. One afternoon. We’ll find something suitable, and then we’ll talk about how boring it all was afterward.”
He chuckled, the sound older than it should have been. But he decided to humor me.
“…Alright, mother.”
I should have been happy.
Instead, as we stepped out of our small house together, a quiet thought gnawed at me.
I wasn’t sure when my son had started walking ahead of me.
Later that afternoon.
Celestine Andromalius.
By the time we stepped into the sixth store, my patience was wearing thin.
Not because Dante was complaining. That would have been easier to deal with. I would have preferred rudeness, dismissal, even boredom, even if I would have been disappointed, since I had raised him better.
At least then I would have understood what I was dealing with.
Not this.
He was… present, in the most unsettling way.
This shop was quieter than the previous ones. Smaller, yet just as clean. Something Lord Sitri insisted upon when allowing merchants to operate within his territory.
The owner greeted us with a polite smile that turned brittle the moment he recognized us. He knew he wasn’t going to make a killing today.
His eyes lingered on Dante for half a second too long, making me curse my husband under my breath, before he gestured toward the racks.
Formal wear. The bane of my existence. I was starting to believe I would have less stress fighting in another war than convincing Dante to choose clothes.
There was everything here, from simple cuts to pieces that made my stomach churn just by looking at the price tags.
Dante stepped inside without hesitation.
He moved slowly between the displays, studying the fabrics as he had done in every store before this one, from linen to wool, and even the most expensive silk.
Yet even the expensive tags didn’t earn more than a curious look. He nodded at a few pieces, which filled me with brief, foolish hope.
If only he looked interested.
“These would suit you,” I said, pulling a jacket from a rack and holding it up against him. The cut was good.
Better than good. It fit his shoulders almost perfectly.
“See? This one…”
He looked at it, his lips twitching faintly in amusement.
“It does fit me, mother,” he said calmly.
And then he moved on.
I swallowed my irritation and followed him deeper into the store.
Hours wasted. Six stores, the best ones on the main street. Hundreds of garments that didn’t earn my son's praise.
It didn’t matter if they were cheap or expensive, even ones that cost more than my whole closet combined.
Dante treated them all the same.
He tried what I asked him to. Stood where I told him to stand. Turned when prompted. He even thanked the shopkeepers politely after wasting our time and buying nothing.
“You don’t like any of them?” I asked at last, unable to keep the heat out of my voice.
He adjusted the cuffs of a dark formal shirt, studying his reflection curiously and nodding to himself.
“They’re fine, mother. They’re just… missing something.”
Fine. That word again. I was already tired of hearing it.
“Fine doesn’t help me here, Dante,” I grunted irritably, the sound sharper than I intended. “You need something appropriate. This dinner isn’t a joke.”
“I know,” he replied.
The certainty in his voice made me pause.
He turned to face me fully. His expression was calm, but the certainty in his eyes unsettled me.
“Mother,” he said evenly, “may I ask you something?”
“You know you can, baby,” I sighed, forcing my frustration down. At least he was engaging now.
“Did Father insinuate something about me?”
The question was simple. The answer was not.
My shoulders tensed before I could stop them.
And my baby boy noticed it.
“…Yes,” I admitted after a heartbeat.
Dante nodded slowly, as if confirming something he already knew.
“He didn’t let it slip,” he continued. “He made sure it sounded like he didn't mean to.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Disappointment flared despite my understanding of Hadrian’s reasons.
“He thought it was necessary.”
“So they noticed me,” Dante murmured, more to himself than to me. “A good plan. Even knowing it would create too many unknown variables.”
His gaze flicked to the mirror.
“And now the Sitri family has extended an invitation.”
It didn’t sound like a question.
“He wants me to join Sona Sitri’s peerage,” Dante went on calmly. “Or at least to be considered. Leviathan’s little sister is someone important, considering how much the Satan dotes on her. Her backing would shield me politically, giving me protection you two can’t give, and connections I otherwise wouldn’t have.”
“He’s worried about you,” I said softly. “We both are. You know how difficult it is to stand alone.”
Dante tilted his head, a look of amusement growing on his face as his eyes twinkled.
“That’s exactly why he did it,” he said. “He believes I need to belong to someone stronger. That being claimed is the only way I survive.”
He shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he turned back toward the mirror.
“No one can claim me,” he said simply.
The words should have sounded arrogant. But there was something strange in them.
There was no bravado in his voice. He wasn’t posturing or even trying to convince himself or me.
He said it like it was a simple fact.
“I will stand on my own,” he continued quietly. “If I succeed, it will be because I earned it. Not because someone pushed me forward. And if I fail…”
He paused for a moment; a sneer appeared on his face. “Then we’ll have bigger things to worry about.”
I stared at him, confused and worried in equal measure. What was my son talking about?
This wasn’t just pride. I knew pride, as Dante had always been proud despite our best efforts.
This was belief.
Unshakable belief in himself.
“Dante,” I said, taking his hand carefully, “you know how dangerous it is to refuse support. You’re not…”
“Talented enough?” he finished gently.
I flinched. A mother never wanted to hear those words coming out of their son’s mouth.
“I know exactly where I stand, mother.”
“I’m done,” he said, stepping away from the mirror.
“Done?” I repeated as I walked behind him. “We haven’t chosen anything.”
“I have," he stepped away from the formal rack and walked toward a smaller section near the back of the store. Practical clothes, the kind the guards on the Sitri mansion would kick him before he could even step inside.
My heart sank when he continued walking.
“Those aren’t suitable for the event, Dante,” I said immediately, my head throbbing from the stress my usually obedient child managed to create. “They’re fine for daily wear, but not for a formal dinner.”
“I know what I’m doing, Mom,” he replied, meeting my gaze.
“They’re a waste of money,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
“Trust me.”
The shopkeeper watched us awkwardly as Dante selected a few simple pieces and placed them on the counter.
Paying quietly, I followed Dante as he walked toward our home. Only now noting how sure of himself he seemed to be.
I could only hope my son truly knew what he was doing.
Because it was painfully clear he no longer wanted our help.
Comments
InfinityReads99
I think it’s mostly ingrained into their culture. Devils can grow insanely fast if they’re pushed, but most of them simply never are. The main cast looks special because they’re constantly under pressure, fighting wars and other BS every Tuesday. That’s not normal life in the Underworld. As for being a “servant,” I think it's a lot more nuanced than it looks. Peerages can be just master–slave dynamics, but it's possible they’d social contracts. Power, protection, status, resources. For a lot of mortals, joining a strong peerage is the safest and most efficient path upward, especially in a society that values hierarchy so heavily. Also, yes, maybe the OG Lucifer put something in their genes to make them... pliable or something.
omer boz
I mean, who wants to be a servant, that's what I hate about DxD devils, they have all the tools to be strong, but just don't use them for whatever reason. But I guess Lucifer did a good job making pawns...
