❝If you return to your old world, we will follow you, and we will destroy everything you love. This is your home now.❞
Percy's world didn't teach her about how obsessive a god's love would be. But when she was accidentally transported to this crazy...
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BEELZEBUB'S EYES STAYED GLUED TO the scene playing out before him. He had been watching the same thing over and over again, but for some odd reason, he didn't have it in him to stop.
He watched Percy speak with Mnemosyne, her face troubled.
"He..." Percy bit her lip. "Um, I don't know. Look, I don't want to kill Beelzebub. You've looked through my memories, you know what I..." She gulped. "I'm sick of constantly being forced to fight. Beelzebub did some fucked up shit to me, but I don't want him to die and I don't want to be the reason for it either. I'm glad he wants to find a way for me to go home, but like... isn't there someone that could... you know, help him?"
Mnemosyne blinked. "Are you... asking if there's some form of godly therapy for him?"
"Uh, yeah? I mean, someone seriously needs to check him into the closest mental hospital so he could get better and learn to leave sixteen year old girls alone!"
"Unfortunately no. And even if there was, they definitely wouldn't want to help him," the goddess replied, the disgust she had for him written all over her face.
Beelzebub was used to this. Many people, gods, demons and humans alike, detested his very being. Even the humans down in Midgard hated him for he was the Devil, the cause of (most of) their misfortunes.
Percy should've known that. He had told her who he was after all and he certainly wasn't friendly to her either. But despite that, Percy was frowning at Mnemosyne's words.
He knew how she disapproved of his wish to die—she had said so to his face over and over again, but this was different. He wasn't in the room with her and, in her eyes, it was just her and Mnemosyne in the house. She was oblivious to the fact that he had been watching her. She could've revealed her true colors, but that never happened. Her opinion remained the same.
He couldn't believe it. She actually cared about him. How disgusting, foolish, and pathetic. He hated it.
The mark in his chest turned pleasantly warm.
"Of course you would approve of her, Lilith," he muttered bitterly, glancing down at the throbbing mark. "She has the same goal as you: to prolong my wretched life."
Thanks to Hades, he knew now that Lilith would never intentionally extend his life for the purpose of making him suffer—she had never been a cruel person after all. He could never hate her, but he hated the mark she left him with. Her 'blessing' to him.
"Beelzebub, I love you. So I forgive you... for everything. For our sakes, live. That's... m-my last... and final order to you."
So he would do what she wished. He would continue to live, but that didn't mean he wouldn't stop looking for atonement. He would live as she wanted him to, but he would live bitterly, wretchedly, repulsively, and savagely until someone could finally put an end to him.
