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The instant his alarm began to ring, Blitzø’s hand slammed down on top of it with reflexive ease. He sat up in bed and stretched his limbs while glancing towards the available window; as expected for six A.M., it was still dark outside, save for the security lights left on in the gardens below.
When he left his bed, he walked past a singular wall covered in a collage of artwork and photographs. They were mostly keepsakes from Octavia’s younger years when she’d proclaimed herself an artist and handed out her work like fair candy. Blitzø could very easily get rid of the vast majority and no one would be the wiser - he was just too much of a sentimental sap to take down any singular drawing spread around the photographs of himself, the prince, and Octavia on various outings.
He made his way to the small bathroom attached to his bedroom and fell into his usual routine. The imp washed his face with a hand towel, vigorously scrubbing his eyes to wake himself up further. When he was done, he set it aside and looked into the mirror before him.
Blitzø had never been much of a looker. Not that he needed to be handsome or sexually alluring to do his job, but it certainly couldn’t hurt. However, between the white splotches covering his body and the golden choker and bracelets that made themselves known through their dim, metallic reflections against the bathroom’s light, he’d personally give himself a five out of ten on a good day.
He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them once more and forcing a smile in the mirror, posture automatically correcting alongside the gesture. If he couldn’t be pretty, he could at least look like he wasn’t miserable.
Dressing didn’t take too long, despite all the layers involved in the process. He’d been doing it every morning for most of his life at this point and it was as natural as breathing. The little star lapels snapped on with little fanfare, and the bowtie that held his late mother’s accessory was tied on without Blitzø ever having to consciously think about the process.
Blitzø snagged the clipboard hanging on a hook adjacent to the door, and he was ready to go about his to-do list.
The mornings before Stolas woke up were relatively busy. It was the one time of day when he could check in with the staff and make sure they were actually doing their jobs right since he was stuck to Stolas’ hip at any other hour. The cleaners in particular had to be constantly interrogated to make sure they hadn’t left a spot untouched. Prince Stolas didn’t like dust, so Blitzø never allowed a layer of it to grow on any palace surface if it could be helped.
That particular morning, he made his rounds without any issues. The gardeners had done the monthly trimming and the florists had done their best to feed the plants that Stolas himself didn’t bother with - he had his favorites like any parent does. The last of his check-ins was with the laundry room, where he found two female imps sorting out various tablecloths by color into baskets. He leaned by the doorway and tapped the clipboard’s metal clip to get their attention.
“Mornin’, ladies.”
“For the last time, Blitz, we won’t be having a threesome.”
Blitzø made a face. “I wasn’t going to ask about that.”
“But you were thinking about it.” The taller of the two imps scowled.
“Thinking about a threesome isn’t a crime, Janet.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m here for the robe.”
“Ugh.”The shorter one wandered over to a pile of folded, clean laundry, throwing Stolas’ favorite robe to Blitzø’s awaiting hand. “I don’t know why you haven’t talked him into getting a new one, the thing’s falling apart.”
“It’s covering his ass, not mine.” Blitzø shrugged and slung it over his shoulder. “What’s the rest of this?”
“Lady Stella decided last night she’d like to throw another party.”
He gawked. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“She just had a fucking party last week.”
“Well, maybe if you could write down on your little clipboard to tell Prince Stolas to grow a spine, we wouldn’t be having them so often.”
“Damn, what crawled up into your cooch and died?” He sighed, scrawling down “bitch has another party” onto his agenda. “Do you need me to send anybody to help with this shit?”
“We’ve got it covered, Chief.” They turned back to separating the sheets and so Blitzø turned to leave, swearing lightly under his breath.
Stella had been pulling this kind of bullshit for years. The moment she realized that being married to Stolas gave her access to a near-endless amount of wealth and notoriety, she spent much of her time attending and throwing parties for any and all occasions. He’d spent dozens of nights babysitting Octavia, who couldn’t sleep with all the racket when she was younger. A surprise party just a week after the last wasn’t exactly surprising, but that didn’t make him any more enthused about all the extra last-minute work this was throwing onto things. He’d have to get the rest of the staff coordinated when they showed up for their shifts, not to mention that it was another few hours of Stolas having to pretend he wanted to be a host in his home. Unfortunately, he’d already made an excuse to get the prince out of the last one, so there’d be no avoiding it tonight - not without Stella pitching a fit over how it would make her look bad if the man of the house didn’t show himself.
He walked down the hallway of portraits that lead to Stolas’ bedroom with light steps. The doorknob was slowly turned and pulled on to ensure it didn’t make a sound while he did so. Despite Blitzø now having been up for several hours, princes didn’t have a sleep schedule; they had their preferences and requested wake-up times. Blitzø had never once woken Stolas up before eight A.M., and he had no intentions of starting to do so now.
Sure enough, he was still sound asleep in his bed, curled up under the covers and lightly snoring. Blitzø crept around the bed’s frame, hooking the robe beside the bathroom’s entryway. Next came setting up Stolas’ personal morning routine: pills, preening oil, and the light amount of makeup that Stolas bothered with on the days when he had to do his job.
The medication was a newer addition. It’d been on Blitzø’s recommendation, albeit a hesitant one; he didn’t exactly know much about anti-depressants or how much they helped, but Stolas seemed to be in at least more consistently middling spirits, which was an improvement to the several days a week where dragging him out of bed was painful for both men involved.
With everything set out, he approached the bed once more, reaching out a hand with a delicate touch onto his shoulder. “Hey. Time to get up.”
Stolas rolled so that his back was now facing Blitzø, and he scoffed. “I know you’re awake, dumbass, I’ve woken you up for two-thirds of your lifespan. It’s morning.”
Blitzø heard a soft groan of complaint and acknowledgment as the prince sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “Good morning…”
“There ya go. Up and at ‘em.” The imp pushed Stolas out of bed with an encouraging shove and trailed after him as the avian plucked the robe off from the hook Blitzø had placed it on. He was quick to pull out the vanity’s stool as Stolas lowered himself to its level, pulling out his own, far less glamorous one, from the side of the vanity and placing it beside him. He watched Stolas pop the pills dry and handed him the prepared water glass soon after, moving to pop off the cap of the oil.
“What’s today’s agenda?” Stolas asked, popping open his eyeliner.
“Not much.” Blitzø ran his hands through his head feathers, careful to re-align the few that had gone astray during the night. “You’ve got a meeting with some bozo who wants funding for his hat-making business.”
“People still make those by hand?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Fair point.” Stolas dragged his eyelid downward, lining it with the pen. “What else?”
“Octavia needs you to sign off on some kind of permission slip for school.” Blitzø plucked a loose feather, discarding it to the side so he could continue.
“Couldn’t she have asked me herself?”
“She’s got your brain capacity for memory, aka none. She keeps forgetting so I said I’d tell you.” Blitzø hesitated before deciding ripping off the band-aid was better than waiting. “Annnnnd Stella’s throwing another party tonight.”
Stolas nearly jabbed the eyeliner into his next eye, looking to his attendant.“You can’t be serious. She just-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Doesn’t matter, though. I got you out of the one last week, but if you skip out again she’ll probably flay me alive before she strangles you.”Blitzø finally finished with the feathers, eyeing Stolas’ face in the mirror to make one last adjustment before removing his hands. “Least you’ll look hot while she does.”
Before he could speak another word, Stolas reached over from his seat, planting a kiss on his lips. His heart skipped a beat and he found himself leaning into it, only for Stolas to get up and head out of the bathroom of his own accord. “I suppose we have that!”
Blitzø rushed out after him, clipboard back in hand while he swallowed hard and tried to pretend the kiss never happened. It wouldn’t exactly reflect well on either of them if he was stuck flustered at the prince’s side with nobody else around to blame for it. “If you want, I might be able to convince the hat guy to move his meeting date with you, I’ll tell him you’re dying of syphilis or something.”
“As much as I appreciate your clever excuses, I think it’s best we deal with it today.”
“Oki-doki, no… syphilis.” He scrawled the note down onto his clipboard and Prince Stolas snorted, leaning over to take a peek at it.
“How much do you need to write on that thing?”
Blitzø glared back, pressing the clipboard to his chest. “Hey, MY clipboard, I’ll write whatever I want on it.”
By the time they made it to the kitchen, both of them melted back into their assigned roles of the demure prince and indifferent yet pleasant servitude. Stella was already occupying the room, stomping about with a phone in her hand, one of the poor staff members stuck holding it up for her convenience. Blitzø briefly shot a look of sympathy before turning towards the nearby coffee maker.
“I know still being married isn’t an important enough of an occasion, but to be fair, it’s no picnic being married to a boring stiff like Stolas.”
The attendant silently rolled his eyes, meeting Stolas’ gaze as the avian’s shoulders began to do their telltale sag. With a hand coated in magic, he summoned the newspaper to open before him, and Blitzø set about putting in the exact amounts of creamer and sugar he knew Stolas liked. Of course, it was hard to focus with his belligerent wife griping on in the background, so he decided to make the most of this time by catching Stolas’ attention and making a gun gesture to his own forehead, tongue stuck out and eyes dramatically closing as he “pulled” the imaginary trigger. Stolas had to hide his beak behind his hands to keep from laughing.
Stella was quick to turn and gawk at both of them. “What’s so funny?!”
Stolas cleared his throat and Blitzø instantly turned off the jester routine.
“Nothing.” He could feel her gaze harden without even looking as he set Stolas’ coffee mug down on the table, shooting her a strained smile with visible teeth clenched. “My lady.”
She huffed, placing a hand over the receiver. “At least make yourself useful if you’re going to just stand around doing fuck all, imp.”
“Blitz is more than occupied already, Stella.” Stolas cut in, gesturing to the now-open article announcing the party that neither he nor Blitzø had been privy to up until that morning. “Given you’ve decided to throw yet another party.”
“You know how much I like parties. If your little wench of an attendant can’t throw together something as basic as a ball, then you should fire him already and save us all the trouble.”
Stella encouraging Stolas to fire him was such a regular occurrence that he didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he just got her designated mug and filled it to her liking, holding it out for her to take. “Your party will happen, Lady Stella, just like it always does.”
“It better.” She snatched the mug, tugging at the cord so the servant knew to follow after her with the phone’s tray. “...No, just Stolas’ wet dish rag of an imp.”
When she was out of sight, Blitzø slid into the breakfast nook’s booth beside the prince. “You know, I think she’s actually in a good mood today.”
“I counted at least one less insult for each of us.” Both men looked at each other, only to break into a quick fit of snickering.
“Your appointment’s at ten, so you can take your time with breakfast if you want.” Blitzø glanced down at his clipboard, then back to a nearby clock on the wall. “I’ve gotta get asses lit if she wants a party by tonight.”
“Can’t it wait?” Stolas frowned, pouting with his chin resting in his hands. “I can’t remember the last time we had breakfast together.”
Blitzø plucked a granola bar from one of his pants pockets, waving it in his view. “I’m all covered, birdbrain. You can keep that sugar coma you call cereal to yourself.”
“It’s not THAT bad.”
“There are fifty grams of sugar in every serving and you eat half the box. It’s disgusting.”
Still, he got Stolas his bowl and cereal box before he left the room to do the remainder of his work before their scheduled meeting.
He managed to rally the troops despite the low morale and “fuck this” mentality most of the staff had, which he wished he had the same pleasure to indulge in. But he didn’t, so he got everyone to get off their asses and do the work they got paid to do so that he could do the work that he didn’t get paid to do beyond room and board.
Then came the meeting which went smoothly for the most part, disregarding the hat-maker having to be dragged out by security after Stolas politely but firmly told him he would not be funding his dream of sentient accessories who also acted as personal guard dogs
When the evening rolled around, all that remained for both of them was to stand around the ballroom and pretend like they didn’t hate every second of being there. Blitzø was good at pretending he enjoyed doing things. Stolas, not so much. It was easy to tell from the way he scowled and pouted that he’d much rather be hiding in his bedroom like he had the week prior, indulging in his romance novels while soaking in the tub.
Blitzø, ever the contract-appointed optimist, elbowed Stolas’ thigh and gestured to the group of noblemen several feet away.
“You should talk to them.”
“What? No.” Stolas waved a dismissive hand. “I haven’t spoken to Aiden in years.”
Blitzø sighed, nodding towards a passing staff member to pass over a shot from an awaiting tray, reflexively passing it right along to the prince. “Have you considered that’s maybe why I’m your only friend? Because you don’t talk to people?”
“I’m more than happy just speaking with you.” Stolas quickly took the shot, depositing the glass on the nearest passing tray.
“And I’ll talk as long as you want me to, Your Highness, but you need a social life. People are starting to think you like me.”
“I do like you.”
“You’re not supposed to, that’s the problem. They’re going to keep making fun of you if the only thing you ever do is stand in the corner with me at every social function.” He made a face of discomfort. “I’m your jester.”
“You’re my attendant.”
“Same fucking difference to these people. Stols. Either way, you look like an immature twat who can’t handle being alone for five fucking minutes.”
“Hey!”
“I didn’t say it was true, Your Highness, but that’s what they’re thinking.” Blitzø gestured to some of the passing servants with trays of horderves and wine glasses. “I’m the only imp in this room not doing anything.”
“Why would you be doing anything right now, though? The rest of the staff has the hall covered.”
Blitzø grumbled and ignored the question, quickly snagging one of Stolas’ hands and forcibly walking him towards the group of Goetian nobility, only letting go so that he could bow and clear his throat. “His Highness overheard your conversation and wants to partake.”
The noblemen all looked at each other, and Stolas’ cousin Aiden raised an eyebrow. “And you speak in his stead whilst he hides behind you?”
“Prince Stolas doesn’t talk to anyone who isn’t worth his time, and he hasn’t made that judgment yet.” Blitzø skimmed over his person, his eyebrow quirked upward. “Are you worth his time?”
Aiden spluttered, looking to Stolas who, to his credit, was smiling with an air of sophistication Blitzø could be proud of. “...We… would be happy to have you join us, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Stolas looked down at Blitzø, smile turning awkward. “Blitzø, would you mind-?”
“I’ll bring your drink to you posthaste.” He bowed once more and turned on his heel, only allowing the false niceties of his expression to fall once he was by the refreshment table. Playing the social hierarchy with the Goetia was as simple as checkers yet as convoluted as chess; it took so little to impress them, but the things that did required connections and intuition. While Blitzø didn’t lack in the latter, it was only Stolas who had the former.
He didn’t try to get Stolas to socialize under the pretense that it’d make him happier. If anything, it’d just prevent more misery down the road, whenever Stella tried to take her hissy-fits public.
Blitzø poured a glass of wine out for his prince but paused as he set the wine bottle back onto the table. Intuition was evidently doing more than informing the socialite game Blitzø was playing on Stolas’ behalf - it was also telling him that someone was watching him.
He looked to the far side of the ballroom and found Stella’s little group of friends, caterwauling about something Stolas related, surely. But she wasn’t the one looking at him. It was the man beside her with his wine glass in hand, the glass visibly frosted over from where his fingers had touched it. Andrelphus.
He’d never liked Andrelphus, just like he’d never been fond of Stella. Andrelphus’ only redeeming quality was that, unlike Stella, he didn’t live in the palace and therefore wasn’t a daily nuisance that Blitzø was forced to serve by association. He so rarely showed up to these sorts of functions, save for the annual Krampus bash Stella threw to pretend as if she gave two flying shits about her family tree from the non-Goetia side.
Blitzø looked back, suspicion growing, only to be interrupted by a member of the staff nearly crashing into his person as they grabbed onto his sleeve. “Chief!”
“Keep your voice down.” He hissed, setting the wine glass on the table. “What?”
They nervously glanced about the ballroom before leaning in. “We’ve… we’ve had a break-in.”
“...Take me. Now.”
He followed after the staff member - Matias if he was remembering right. They’d only been hired a few months ago and was more of a night-shift imp, so Blitzø rarely ever crossed paths with him unless Stolas decided he wanted a midnight snack. Once they were out of earshot, Blitzø spoke to them, matching their nervous speed-walk towards the wing with Stolas’ bedroom. “What happened?”
“H-honest, I never would have- I thought they were one of us-”
Blitzø stopped, grabbing onto the smaller imp’s shoulders. “Matias. Calm down. Take a deep breath.”
Matias did as requested, nerves visibly settling somewhat under his firm grip. “It’s… it’s easier to show you.”
The damage was obvious the moment they entered the prince’s bedroom. The window closest to the curved bookcase had been shattered into thousands of powdery shards, twinkling in the light cast from the sunset just outside the palace walls. What was more concerning, however, was the grimoire. It’d been abandoned on the floor, opened and abandoned. He rushed over to pick it up, dusting off the glass that’d gotten between the pages, and quickly flicked through it, relieved to find it hadn’t been damaged.
Matias hesitantly pointed towards the open window and Blitzø looked out and down from it. Below in the gardens was a freshly-smashed corpse of an imp beyond recognition, their black blood splattering the begonias they’d landed on. He winced on reflex. “Did they fall?”
“Yes. I heard a noise from Prince Stolas’ bedroom, a-and I know no one else but you are supposed to go in, but I knew you were both already at the party, so…” Matias meekly gestured to the grimoire in Blitzø’s hands. “When I opened the door, they dropped the book and fell.”
“It’s fine, Matias. It was the right call.” Blitzø approached the bookshelf’s rolling ladder, sliding it into place and climbing to the top to place it back in the vacant hole it’d left behind.
“What do we tell the prince?”
“Nothing.” He hopped down from the ladder, landing a bit harder on his shoe’s heels than he would’ve preferred. “He doesn’t need to know right now. The intruder’s dead anyway and it’ll just distract him.”
“Understood.”
“Get security to take care of the body. Feed it to one of the prince’s plants, they’ll handle the worse of it.” He paused. “Matilda probably. She’s due to be fed tomorrow anyway.”
“Ah… which… is Matilda?”
Blitzø pinched at the space between his eyes. “Am I the only one who knows basic-ass shit around here? The one near his main study, Matias.”
“Oh! Right. My apologies, Chief.”
He sighed. “Just get security on it then get this cleaned up before the party’s over. I’ll come up with a good excuse by then.”
Matias nodded and rushed out the door. Blitzø looked back up to the grimoire, lingering on the shining gemstone embedded along its spine.
Realistically, it probably was nothing to worry about. It was well known that Stolas possessed such a powerful artifact, and its capabilities, while vague in their details to outsiders, was enough of an enticement that he was more surprised no one had thought to try and take it before now. It was likely a freak occurrence - a crime committed by a stupid imp who thought they could get lucky. No reason to tell Stolas and add another worry to his growing list.
He returned to the ballroom shortly afterward, freshly-filled wine glass in hand to find Prince Stolas and his new social laughing about the punchline to a joke Blitzø was sure involved something to do with punting a Hellhound into a creek. Blitzø nudged the prince with his elbow and held out the wine glass to him.
“Oh! There you are, Blitzø. You were starting to worry me.” He took the glass from Blitzø’s hand, sipping at it.
“Apologies, Your Highness. There was an issue in the kitchen that needed to be dealt with.”
Aiden chuckled. “Your Highness, do tell me - why keep around an attendant who can’t even quickly fetch you wine?”
Blitzø tensed and couldn’t help but shoot a look of revulsion. Stolas merely shrugged, swirling the wine in his glass. “Given you don’t have one of your own, I suppose anything is an improvement.”
While Blitzø would have preferred he not tackle that particular quip from the angle of property management, he knew when it was best to keep his mouth shut. And, of course, the conversation moved on with only light laughter at Aiden’s expense, and Blitzø became once more invisible at the avian’s side for the remainder of the evening.
By the time the party had concluded and the guests had been shooed off the property by security, both Stolas and Blitzø were exhausted, although Stolas showed it more. Blitzø patted Stolas’ side encouragingly they walked towards the bedroom.
“See, what’d I tell you? Wasn’t so bad after all.”
“Gods, Blitzø, they’re so boring though!” He bemoaned, raking fingers down his face. “All they wanted to talk about was politics and finances.”
“You’re a prince, Stols. Politics and finances are kind of your thing.”
“Oh, shove off.”
Blitzø chuckled and opened the door for Stolas, only to cut himself short at the sight of the open window. He’d nearly forgotten the entire incident after all the mind-numbing standing around he’d been doing in the hours since. Thankfully, Matias and the staff had done as asked; there was no trace of glass left on the ground and the grimoire was undisturbed on the shelf as if it had never been removed in the first place.
Stolas gawked at the sight, clapping his hands so that the candles around the room lit automatically. “What in Hell happened?!”
“Oh.” Blitzø cleared his throat. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Stolas. I forgot with everything going on - a Hellbird smacked into the glass and it shattered.”
“A Hellbird?” Stolas furrowed his eyebrows, approaching the opening and peeking out, long neck stretching past the flower box that sat beneath the window. Blitzø followed suit from underneath him and noted the absence of an imp corpse as a good sign that things had been properly taken care of without him having to hold everyone’s hand during the process. The begonias hardly even looked like they’d had a body land on top of them at all.
Blitzø leaned away from the window. “Yeah. But I had the staff take care of cleaning up the mess. I’ll get someone on replacing it in the morning.”
Stolas nodded, retreating inside and rubbing his neck. “Thank you. I don’t suppose you’d mind-?”
“The bath’s already set up.”
“Fuck, you are Heavensent, I swear it.” Stolas leaned down to kiss the base of his horn. Blitzø found himself freezing at the touch, only to miss it the instant it was retracted.
“...Did you… because we could.” Blitzø questioned.
Stolas shook his head. “As delightful as that sounds, I believe we’re both worn out, and you’ve done more than enough for me today.”
“But I can do more if it pleases you.”
“And I said it’s not needed.” The prince playfully flicked him on the forehead, straightening back up and patting the spot he’d previously laid his beak upon. “I can handle myself from here, Blitzø. Get some rest yourself.”
Blitzø nodded. “Good night, Stolas.”
“Good night, Blitzy.”
Blitzø left the room and headed towards his own just a few halls over from Stolas’. For them being in such proximity, one would expect their rooms to match in ostentation, but Blitzø had long since purposefully chosen to stay in one of the few rooms of the palace that wasn’t plastered with Goetian symbols and maroon shades of wallpaper. Because the moment he re-entered that room, he could allow himself to let his shoulder sink and let the day’s weariness finally take its toll.
In here, there were no princes to manage, and no spouses to ward off. It was his space, plain as could be, and it was one of the few comforts he could afford.
He tried not to linger too long by the doorway, lest he just give up on his routine altogether, and decides that falling asleep on the floor wasn’t such a bad idea. Blitzø hung his clipboard back onto the hook.
He shouldn’t be this tired. It frankly wasn’t even that eventful of a day, robbery aside.
Blitzø moved to the shower and turned up the hot water, standing in the spray to try and work out the knots in his muscles. It did little though, and he decided to wrap things up once the water began to run cold (he should just ask Stolas to enchant his plumbing so it works the way his own does, but he’d never gotten around to it).
He cleaned himself up and threw on the same set of pajamas he wore most nights of the week, crawled into bed under the covers, and pulled out his phone. Most evenings alone were spent the same as this one, with Blitzø mindlessly scrolling through the various horse-related accounts he followed on his private Sinstagram. He hardly ever had free time during the day to indulge, so it’d long since become a pre-bed ritual.
Blitzø felt like his mind at least was finally relaxing until a video of a Hell Stallion charging down a racetrack was interrupted by a text notification from the prince.
Thank you for helping at the party today. <3
He smiled tiredly, quickly shooting back an “ur welcome” with an attached smiley face. Stolas, at least, seemed to have had a decent day, which meant Blitzø had done a good enough job at keeping it relatively stress-free. That was a success in his book.
The imp opted to shut the phone off there for the night, plugging it into the charger and setting it on the nightstand beside his alarm clock, which he flicked back on ahead of time for the following morning when he’d get up to repeat the entire thing for the ten thousandth time, into infinity.