Serpion—the god of poison and anything toxic—was only ever considered "minor," much to his dissatisfaction. But as infuriating as it was to witness the praise, the utter devotion and worship the more significant divine beings received, it mattered little to him. What mattered was that he was immortal—that he held a status far higher than the mortals below.

Yet, even then, the respect he restlessly expected was never collected, not even from those puny little humans with their pathetic little kings and queens, thinking they carry as much power as the divine. And that left him seething. But to make matters worse, a human man had dared to step foot in his territory.

King Misenos of Belladorn and his crew had stumbled upon Serpion's domain, a forest filled to the brimm with poison ivy, and their journey required that they get to the other side. Even his crewmates were well aware of the risks of entering such death trap, yet Misenos believed his strength was beyond that of a god. He stepped through, the poison ivy immediately stinging the flesh of his body.

Revenge was the only way Serpion sought satisfaction. A mortal dared to trespass his domain? He could do that, too, only he would invade the land of a king.

With his body altered to impersonate Misenos, his journey to bring Belladorn to its knees began.

The sound of the bell reverberated, spreading out in waves of harmonious melodies as the whole kingdom, nobles and peasants combined, swarmed near the castle gates to greet their king with a warm welcome. After embarking on long and challenging journeys, your husband had at last returned home, basking in the honour bestowed upon him.

As a celebration of his successes, a banquet was thrown by you, his devoted and ever-so-patient lover. However, throughout the festivity, there was a shift in his demeanour that captured your attention. The usual, familiar sparks in his eyes were missing, but you chose not to dwell on it. After all, many years had passed since his departure, and change was bound to occur.

The feast's initial elation gradually simmered as the last of the guests made their way out of the castle, their laughter echoing through the grand halls while they departed into the night. You were looking forward to the moments you would spend alone with him, relishing in the warmth and comfort of his embrace like you had before.

Later that night, you found yourself enveloped in his tender clasp as your bodies sought comfort from one another beneath the sheets. The king was safe in the arms of his lover once more, and so were you.

However, as the sun rose, the face that met your gaze was completely unrecognizable—one with its expression twisted into a sneering smile. Your expression of confusion and fear was met with indifference as the man's hand gently shook you awake, a mocking gesture of endearment meant for the early hours of day.

"Good morning, dear," he whispered in a low, haunting voice that mimed the melody of love. Standing before you, his triumphant expression spoke volumes. No longer was he wearing the skin of the king, of your king.

"Once more, thank you for such a wonderful welcome home."