It was about ten minutes until the invasion. Princess Xetrathia stood off the planning table in the Demon Realm's castle, waiting to give the signal to activate the bombs and have their soldiers start marching through the portals.

Months had passed since the mysterious woman in blue warned them of the Heir's upcoming arrival. Xetrathia sent agents throughout the entire continent at once, where they planted newly developed stealth bombs in key locations throughout the enemy countries while simultaneously drawing highly illegal teleport circles within their cities. There was little reason to expect they could beat the Heir in direct conflict, but with proper planning, they could disrupt the prophecy by eliminating one of the princesses.

Herself included. Xetra stroked the suicide necklace that had been made for this explicit purpose, then sighed.

They weren't doing a good thing, she knew. If they were to succeed they would go down in history as the greatest monsters to ever live, their names cursed forever for how many innocents they would be killing. But it was the only way. They had to be thorough. They had to do everything they could. If they didn't go all out, the Heir ran the risk of surviving with all the princesses. They couldn't even risk assuming that Xetra was the specific demon princess of prophecy; perhaps it was a long-lost sister of hers. It was all or nothing, even if it cost them everything.

Xetra glanced at Aeneas. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she smiled back, but it was something of an empty smile.

There was no love in her heart for him. He was convinced they were destined lovers, but she felt far from the same. They were betrothed, and had been raised together since they were children, but the spark, in Xetra's eyes, was just not there. Aeneas was heroic, kind, and gentle, to be sure, but he just wasn't what her heart yearned for. The fire to light the passion that just wasn't there. She beat him at every duel, and trounced him at every battle of wits they had ever engaged in. He had earned nothing from her, but expected all the rewards handed to him on a platter, like he deserved it just for existing. It was disappointing. Xetra would not be unhappy with him, she knew, but she was absolutely sure she would not be happy at all.

Aeneas Jorgis Mascar. The son of General Mascar, the deadliest warrior to ever grace the Demon Realm with his blade. Now that was a man with a fire. That was a man with a mission. Fire roared with his every step, but it seemed none of that fire had gone to Aeneas. Xetra couldn't help but smile; she had once walked in on him bathing, and his penis was the cutest little thing. She could envision herself amusing herself by teasing him, but actual sex? She wouldn't even feel it. At the very least, if their engagement was ever confirmed when her father broke his Long Silence and returned, Xetra knew she would be wearing the pants in the relationship. She would be queen, first and foremost, and Aeneas would remain just a prince; her husband in name only, serving more as moral support than anything.

Time was ticking. It was almost time to signal the explosions. Xetra steeled herself. Go to Koh'rin, hunt for Soh'fia, burn the tree, get out. Aeneas would send a message if all the beastkin princesses could be killed. This would be their last stand. They were pulling out all the stops. She would not be the Heir's. He would not own her. The prophecy would not ruin her. Goddess be damned, she was not going gently into the cursed era of darkness threatening to blanket the world.

One minute to go. The memories came back, and her heart became whole again.

She staggered back away from the table, immediately clasping her head in both hands as she struggled to process what was happening. Memories. So many memories. It felt like her head was going to burst. She choked, and Aeneas rushed to her side, holding her back so she didn't fall over. She didn't even notice. Tears of joy were streaming down her face. She finally understood true love. She finally felt it.

The first memory was one of a duel by a burning tree. Xetra had approached him with hostility, and spoke the cursed words 'I will not be yours' before even getting to know her. This shamed her in retrospect. What was the point in shutting someone out before ever getting to know them? To begin a relationship with blatant hostility while making no attempt to understand the other is to doom the relationship to failure to begin with. She had nothing but gratitude, then, that he defeated her and proved his worth despite her prejudice. He was strong, the first man her age to beat her in a duel, the first to ever truly earn her appreciation. Love blossomed in her heart that day, and she could only curse herself for attempting to smother the feelings. One would never experience true love if they smothered every ember of it; denied all love for fear of embracing the unknown.

The second memory was in the Beastkin Kingdom. She had cruelly exploited the gift of permanence love granted to change the nature of the invasion, and in the process hurt the one she was growing to care so deeply about. She had been unsurprised when the Heir defeated Aeneas effortlessly; her own opinion of Aeneas's strength was already as low as it could be, and no-one who could defeat her would be unable to trounce Aeneas. What surprised her, though, was how invigorated she felt watching it. In the Demon Realm, it was traditional for men to fight over women in combat, to prove their worth against one another before proving their worth directly. The Heir hadn't known this, but defeating her betrothed in single combat was the highest form of romance, and it made her heart sing. None other in the Demon Realm would dare shame the son of General Mascar, but the Heir was above such things.

Xetra's blossoming love for the Heir scared her. What she had expected was nothing like reality. She had been raised to oppose the Goddess and the prophecy, to kill the Heir if he were ever to arise in her lifetime, but all that was crumbling around her. She had no basis for her opposition except the teachings of her culture, and that was quickly being overwritten by the Heir's real-life actions. Reality just held so much more weight than the abstract. (That he was handsome and had what may have been the perfect male form for Xetra's tastes was something she was loath to admit, for it felt shallow, but it was true. Her breath quickened at the mere sight of him, and that certainly added fuel to the fire burning in her heart.)

In the end, she decided to abandon the choice. She could not bring herself to kill the Heir, and she did not wish to see him in pain again, so it was all she could do to send Aeneas to the dwarf hold and hope matters resolved themselves without her despite the inherent contradiction therein. It was something of a cowardly choice, unusual for her, but one could hardly blame her when she was being struck with mysterious visions of the future that sent her heart aflutter and her mind in disarray.

Whether the Heir's next move was a punishment or a mere display of strength was beyond Xetra to know, but she stood with her mouth agog atop Blackspire Castle as she witnessed the falling sun. Telescopes revealed the Heir above it all, atop some manner of dragonkin, and when he let it loose, it was such a sprawling mass of disconnected plasma that not even Reverse could deflect it. Xetra, admittedly, drooled with a wet crotch at the sheer display of power. Demonkind valued strength highly, and even on an intellectual level, this power was all-shattering. Her mind, as fiery death approached, raced with thoughts of conquering the entire continent through sheer threat of Armageddon. If only she were united with him, and they could work together...

Naturally, when she saw a vision of this, she prepared the white flag of parley in case it were to come true again. She still couldn't bring herself to face the Heir in direct combat, but she didn't want to abandon Blackspire over a vague, uncertain vision. Her plan was to get the Heir in close and, if necessary, use the explosion necklace to ensure the breaking of the prophecy. Taking herself out wouldn't be enough; there was no guarantee she was the specific princess, but there was no doubt that the Heir was the Heir.

Somehow, though, the plan all but left her mind entirely once he actually arrived. She took him to a meeting room, and said the planned line to disarm his guard, but they ended up talking instead. It was the most riveting conversation of her life; so many new ideas, so many new considerations. It was like she was starting to see the world in an entirely different way. If a fire of love had been in her heart before, it was now a roaring flame; this was a man who had honed his mind alongside his body, who recognized the value of both virtues when so many of demonkind cared only for the physical. When Aeneas arrived and interrupted, she had never been more furious in her entire life. It was like a bucket of sewage had been dumped over her head. And then the Heir was gone, and she cursed Aeneas's name.

But he returned, as prophesized. The hour of waiting for his return was the longest hour of her life. Her heart was thumping with anticipation for seeing him, speaking to him, just being in his presence. To think it could be so exhilarating just to be in the presence of another! It felt as if she had been dead her whole life, and only now she truly lived. The red fire burned hot amid coals that had been cold and black for as long as she could remember. The visions grew sharper in clarity, revealing more and more of the conversations, until eventually she steeled her resolve.

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She dressed to be beautiful, in hopes of catching his eye as he had so firmly caught hers, and proposed for his hand in marriage. Indirectly, of course; in Demonkind, marriage proposals were done in the form of duels, and for a woman to propose a duel would be equivalent to a proposal for marriage, if only the man is strong enough to win and in one final act earn the love being offered.

There was never any doubt in her mind that he would win, though. She had seen his initial victory over her as clear as day. Her heart throbbed with anticipation on the way to the training room, and she barely managed to hide the trembling joy she felt as his eyes wandered over her body. She had caught his eyes. He found her beautiful! It was such a silly thing, to be so concerned over matters of physical appearance, but she had so long hid herself in armor for fear of losing her chance with him over something as trivial as him finding her red skin unattractive, or her boobs too fat, or any such thing. She could not know what he preferred, and she could almost cry with happiness that he seemed as attracted to her as she was to him.

The duel ended as expected.

And then, with their union confirmed, they finally went to bed and...

Xetra's hand smashed against the crotch of her armor. The mere thought of what came next demanded something to fill her drooling pussy, but the damned armor was in the way. She smashed into it again, hoping to break through the steel, but the only thing that broke was her fingers. She felt no pain. Only sheer frustration that she was being denied satisfaction. She groaned, ignoring Aeneas's confusion, and leaned back. Her pussy was cumming hard even without her touching it. The mere memory of sleeping with him for the first time brought her orgasmic pleasure. Juices squirted from her pussy with each orgasm, soaking her panties within her armor in an instant. She felt her inner pussy walls clamp, then cry sadly that his cock was not wedged between them.

She stood there for perhaps half an hour, convulsing as she orgasmed over and over, reveling in her memories. Xetra did not know this, but even Rose had been incapacitated in her bed for thirty minutes as she 'contemplated' the memories, and she had the added benefit of access to her crotch. The pleasure was always overwhelming when it came so suddenly through memories. Eventually, though, the waves of orgasm quelled, and Xetra stilled. All the demons were too polite to question the pool of juices that had leaked through cracks in her armor to pool against the ground.

Her eyes shot open.

Their love has been consummated.

Love was real, and she felt it.

The embers were lit, and she remembered everything.

Mal hadn't even needed to tell her what to do in the next loop. It was obvious.

"Cancel the invasion," Xetra said, steadying herself and detaching herself from Aeneas's grip before gesturing away the Restoration mage that had fixed her fingers.

"What?" Aeneas asked. "But we must break the prophecy."

"Cancel it," Xetra snapped, a bit angry that Aeneas was daring to interfere in things much greater than himself. "It's fruitless. The invasion was a mistake from the start. We can't win, and winning would have been wrong anyway."

"What are you talking about...?"

"Just do it. I don't have time to explain," Xetra said, and she really didn't. Her heart was aching for her to go see her beloved. She felt a deep terror that he had forgotten her, and until they met in this loop she wouldn't be able to calm down for a second. Already she had wasted thirty minutes of his time, though... somehow, despite her assurances that she wouldn't be able to wait to see him, he had been very confident that she would be out of commission for at least thirty minutes at the start of this loop. Strange. Perhaps he knew her better than she knew herself. She smiled at that; nothing spoke of love greater than deep understanding of another. "Balthazar, send out the demolition teams to disable the bombs. Nergal, start wiping out the teleportation circles, excluding the one to DirIe Ilirad. I'm leaving and will return at some point in the indefinite future."

"Xetra, what happened? You're acting strange," Aeneas asked, looking concerned.

"It does not concern you," Xetra replied, and strode through the teleporter to DirIe Ilirad. Aeneas would probably never understand no matter what she said. He would probably even selfishly reject her love, despite having no knowledge of it himself. How sickeningly arrogant yet predictable; people could not help but judge the world as projections of themselves, without grasping a fraction of how varied and different the world really was. He could only conceive of a world where Xetra delivered herself to him on a silver platter, a reward for dogged persistence. Grasping the reality that she loved someone else was beyond him.

Annoyingly, Aeneas followed, but she ignored him along the way. She pushed up her glasses with annoyance. She supposed she should be thankful none of the others followed; they understood that her word was law in the Demon Realm, and rightfully assumed there was wisdom beyond their understanding behind her orders.

It was an unfortunately long walk from the edge of the hold where the teleporter was located to Queen Daiya's palace at the center. She drew much attention due to her ornate plate armor and demonic skin, but Aeneas kicking up a fuss certainly didn't help matters. She considered how to get him to leave her alone, but decided seeing was believing. She didn't want to break his heart, but he was leaving her with little choice. If one did not understand through words, then action was the only way.

The guards at the palace let her in, having been instructed to do so ahead of time by Mal, no doubt. Her heart fluttered with joy; the vague fear of him having forgotten her vanished, and the revelation that he was thinking of her just as she thought of him was enough to make her almost squeal with joy. It filled her heart with such a pure warmth she paused to thank the world for giving her life and guiding her to Mal. Aeneas, meanwhile, had quieted down; perhaps understanding the significance of her not only visiting the palace of one of the Five, but being allowed in as well.

Xetra strode down the hall to the room where Mal had said he would be, while leaving the implication unsaid. She had never been in the palace before, but his words were as clear as day in her memory; each word from his mouth had been carved into her soul, and she could feel warmth in her heart just from replaying the words in her mind.

Upon reaching the door, she impatiently flung it open, and there he was. A worried frown had been etched into her face for much of the way here, but now she broke into a smile, and hurried forward to fling her arms around him. He turned and welcomed her in an embrace of his own. She had felt cold without him, an all-too familiar emptiness in her heart, but now she was whole again. The fire burned bright, and she buried herself in his chest as best as she could. Love was in the air. All was right in the world.

"Xetra!" Aeneas shouted, almost ruining the moment, if it could have been ruined. "Isn't that the Heir?! What are you thinking?!"

Xetra shot him an angry look, wanting to well in the warmth for longer, but knowing this had to be settled sooner or later. This was going to be uncomfortable for everyone involved, and the sooner it was over, the better.

"Go away. The Heir earned my love, and you didn't. You have no place with me any longer."

"But... But..." Aeneas grimaced. "Haven't we been together all our lives? Haven't we been betrothed since we were children?"

"That doesn't mean anything. You don't get someone's love just by existing beside them. Nobody owes you anything. You have to earn what you want, and you didn't."

"But I thought..."

"You thought wrong. You only ever thought of yourself, and were convinced the world would bend to suit you. Well, it won't. You missed your chance. You had twenty years, and you wasted them all."

Aeneas's frown hardened. He stared at the floor, then looked up. "He beat you in a duel, didn't he?"

Xetra nodded.

"I never could."

Xetra nodded again.

"I was never enough."

Xetra nodded again. It didn't please her to stomp him into the ground, but it was the truth, and it would hurt more to lie and deceive.

Aeneas looked up wistfully. "I guess you're right. I never did think about your perspective." He looked down at his hands, then his sword. A smile arose on his face. "But it's only over when you think it's over."

"What?" Xetra asked.

Aeneas pointed at Mal. "Heir. I challenge you to a duel. Not now, but someday in the future. I'm going to go train, and when I return, I'll beat you and win Xetra back." He spoke with brimming confidence, like this was his new purpose in life.

Xetra frowned. First of all, that was still completely ignoring her feelings on the subject, and second of all, it was far too late for that. The flames of love she felt for Mal would never fade out, and if you wanted to consider the more physical perspective, now that she had experienced the bliss of Mal's massive Heir cock, Aeneas's tiny twig would barely make her feel anything. Once you went Hero cock, you never went back.

She opened her mouth to shut Aeneas down, but Mal spoke first. "I accept your duel. Good luck, Aeneas," he said.

Aeneas nodded firmly, then left the room, a new purpose in his step.

Xetra shot Mal a look. "What? Why did you say that?"

He smiled at her. "It's good to believe in victory, even if you have a one hundred percent chance of losing. Plus, I suspect he'll find another purpose in life while training."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're leaving something out. I can tell."

"Okay, I admit. NTR is a based fetish and I want to cultivate it a bit."

She didn't really understand what he meant, but that was okay. She was done thinking about Aeneas. She put him completely out of her mind and lifted her chin up for a kiss, and blessed be the Goddess, Mal gave her one. She melted in his arms, pressing her lips against his as hard as she could, hoping their heads would fuse together and they could become one in body and soul. Her heart throbbed with love, filling every inch of her body with joy. The air was electric. She had been dead for twenty years, waiting for this moment. Today was the day she lived.