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Barbatos knocked once on the door, a mere formality, before entering the Prince’s office. Diavolo looked up wearily from the desk, but as he inhaled the unmistakable aroma of the cookies, his countenance brightened. He craned his head to get a better look at the silver cart bearing tea. “Is that bloodberry and chocolate I smell?”
“Indeed,” the butler replied as he approached his liege. Barbatos raised his eyebrow a fraction as he observed the state of the desk. When he had left earlier, the stacks had been neat and the work prioritized. Now, they were in a disarray. Barbatos removed the small completed pile and gathered the rest to one side, making room to set out the food.
While Barbatos transferred the contents of the cart, he relayed the Prince’s itinerary for the next day. “At ten, you are to meet with the newly crowned winner of the Ms. Devildom pageant and pose for publicity photos.”
“Asmo didn’t win again this year, did he?” Diavolo asked, pausing before taking the first sip, cup poised near his lips.
“No, he has retired from entering and now entertains himself by judging the competition.” Barbatos placed the stack of letters and the three parcels on the desk. “Once you have finished with that, you are to hear the petitions of the prisoners in the dungeon.”
“Has it been a quarter century already?” The prince set down his cup and reached for a cookie.
“Yes, there are three appeals that require your judgement.”
“It’s going to be a long day,” the Prince sighed before biting into his treat.
“Then, after lunch-”
“That’s just the morning?!” The cookie disappeared in two more fierce bites, a second of silence followed it. His next sigh was deeper and more resigned. “What’s after lunch?”
“There is a witch that claims her demon is in breach of contract. She filed the twenty-seven forms and performed the goat sacrifice required, which entitles her to a personal meeting with you, my lord.”
“Please tell me that will be my last appointment for the day?” The Prince’s golden eyes looked hopeful.
“Of course.” The prince smiled in relief and took another sip of the perfectly prepared tea. “Otherwise, how would you have the time to finish reviewing the service records of the demons applying to be part of your honour guard?”
The cup hit the saucer with an undignified clatter, drawing a frown from the butler. Barbatos slid the first box across the desk toward the prince. “Shall we see what is in the mail today?”
The first two boxes contained nothing that interested the prince. The tributes of gold and gems were pushed to the side in favour of finishing the last of the cookies. When nothing but crumbs remained, Diavolo opened the last parcel.
“Oh, someone made a little Lucifer!” the prince exclaimed. “Isn’t he just a handsome little fellow? I wonder who it is from?”
The butler stopped clearing the dishes and raised his eyes to see a crude toy being danced around the desk by the Prince. “I will take that. I feel that much like his full size counterpart, he will be a distraction.” His gloved hand reached for the toy. “I will have him delivered to your room.”
“Did you hear that, Little Lucifer? We are going to have a sleepover!” The Prince laughed, dodging the doll out of Barbatos’ reach.
“Say thank you to Barbatos.” The prince shifted his voice to a deeper register. “Barbatos is a meanie and a spoilsport.” Then he returned to his normal voice. “Lucifer,” he chided, “Barbatos is just doing his job. Apologize.” With a playful smile, Diavolo pressed the toy to Barbatos’ cheek and deepened his voice once more. “Sorry.”
Barbatos’ professional demeanour masked his displeasure. He took the doll from Diavolo’s hands and addressed it directly.
“Come now, Lucifer. We should let the Prince return to his duties.” Then, like the sun peeking out from behind clouds, a tiny smile appeared on the butler’s face. Altering his voice to speak for the toy, Barbatos had it warn the prince. “It looks like he has a lot to do if he wants to have dessert tonight.”
Diavolo laughed and started sifting through the chaos on his desk. “Depends. What’s on the menu?”
“Hand churned ice cream served on apple pie.” Barbatos answered in his own voice as he left the room. He paused and raised his hand to touch his cheek. It was probably Barbatos’ imagination, but the demon thought his cheek tingled.
===
Diavolo woke up slowly. Rubbing his face, he yawned and stretched. His eyes flew open when he couldn’t feel the mattress and his feet untucked the blankets.
That was not his ceiling, and this was definitely not his bed.
The prince did not panic. His captors had left him unrestrained, a fatal mistake. The Prince rose from the bed, his feet finding only cold stone. He barked out a simple spell to summon light, bathing the room in a warm glow.
Wait, that was not his voice.
Swallowing hard, he raised a shaky hand first to his throat and then held it in front of his face. The fingers were much more slender than his own, and he knew that shade of lavender polish well. Diavolo felt fear in the pit of his stomach and searched for a mirror to confirm his suspicion.
===
“Good morning, my Prince! Is there an inspection?”
Another greeting and another curtsy. Barbatos did not have time for this. He responded cordially, but the response sounded wrong in the Prince’s voice. “No, there is no inspection. Please, go about your business.”
The demon bowed and went about his way, looking nervously over his shoulder. Barbatos knew this looked suspicious. The Prince never had a reason to venture to this wing of the palace. Barbatos would have stayed where he was to avoid causing rumours, but he doubted Diavolo remembered where his quarters were, let alone how to find the way back to the royal bedchamber.
Barbatos opened the door to his room and slipped inside, both closing and locking the door. “Good morning, my Prince,” he greeted, forcing a voice that was not his own to be calm. Allowing a rumour that the ruler of Devildom had fallen prey to a curse to reach the masses was unacceptable. Barbatos had already reached out to his pactmate for assistance, but in the meantime, there was only one thing they could do. “Shall we go over your new itinerary for the day?”
===
So, at ten am, instead of shaking hands with the lovely new Ms Devildom, Diavolo had his hands full in the kitchen. Actually, his hands were both full and immersed in soapy water.
Diavolo sighed. He had been lonely enough in his office and sitting on the throne, apart from everyone. He had hoped this morning would be different and that something good would come of this mishap. However, it seemed royal butlers were as intimidating as princes.
He half heartedly swiped a cloth along the plate in his hand. Diavolo had thought he would have been a general commanding the army of servants, but apparently this general did the dishes. And not just the dishes. Barbatos personally sorted the mail, planned the meals, and cooked key portions of those same meals. How he did all of that along with all his other duties was a mystery to Diavolo. It seemed his butler was just as much a slave to his own schedule as he was with the royal one.
“Is there something the matter, sir?” A timid voice asked behind him.
Diavolo turned and looked down at a diminutive servant, who kept her gaze solidly on the floor. Finally, a chance to talk with someone beyond confirming the tasks Barbatos had set them. He tried to smile warmly and wondered how that looked on this face. “Help me dry these.”
She paled and stammered. “Are you sure? Those plates are older than I am.”
Diavolo tried to mimic his butler the best he could. “You will be under my direct supervision. You will not fail at the task.”
The servant joined him at the sink. At least he had company now, though she was still distant and resistant to conversation. That needed to change, but how?
A smile ghosted across his face and he looked down at the fragile bowl in his hand. The crack it made as he tightened his grasp was nearly as loud as a firework in the quiet kitchen, causing the young demon to jump.
“Shhh- it will be our little secret. Right…?” Damn, Barbatos would have known her name. Not just her name but likely her birthdate, blood type, and the grade she got on her final potions exam. Luckily, the long pause provided the opportunity for her to give it, anyway. Now, Diavolo had a name, and the ice, as well as an ancient piece of tableware, was broken.
===
Barbatos had expected the morning to be easy compared to his usual duties, with the most taxing thing being the ever present worry that the Prince would somehow set the kitchen ablaze without supervision.
He had been wrong. It was irritating making tedious small talk while he felt the ever present press of time and the call of more important duties. How many photos did they truly need to take?
“It’s such an honour to meet you, my Lord.” Ms. Devildom purred as her hand crept higher, curling around his bicep.
“Yes, congratulations on your new title,” he replied automatically.
“Were you able to watch the pageant?”
“No. Unfortunately, I was otherwise engaged.” Yes, he had been otherwise occupied doing something of meaning and substance.
“Then you didn’t get to see my talent?” She pouted, then offered, “Could I show it to you now?” She glanced at the photographer. “Wouldn’t it make a great photo?”
Barbatos would have declined. They surely had more photos than was needed, but he was filling the young master’s shoes and needed to act accordingly. He forced a wide smile and nodded in agreement.
===
Things were going fine in the kitchen.
Well, mostly fine in the kitchen. Diavolo was having such a wonderful time getting to know the staff that they had started on lunch a little late. They were now also short handed since he allowed Althmer to take the day off to see his child’s play.
But things were fine. Yup, fine .
Diavolo was starting to get the hang of this. It was so easy. When people asked him what to do, the prince just asked them how they would handle it and let them do it. He wondered why Barb insisted on doing everything himself?
While the staff started on the main course for supper, Diavolo decided to make his butler a sandwich with his own two hands. His cheerful humming drew surprised glances from some of the staff, but the prince didn’t notice. He was busy trying to decide what Barbatos would like. Just as he was slicing the bread for the sandwich, the DDD in his jacket pocket rang.
Whatever could the magazine want?
===
Barbatos was exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. He was used to looking at those around him as pawns on a chessboard. With only a few exceptions, the priority was on placing them where he needed, regardless of their needs and wants. But that was not how Diavolo saw the world, and today he needed to be Diavolo. His Prince cared, and caring was much harder than Barbatos had imagined.
He put down the paper in his hand and rubbed his eyes. It was the third time he had attempted to read it, and the page was still not making sense. How did the prince do this day in and day out?
“Would you like my assistance with that, my lord?”
Barbatos looked up at his own body standing in the doorway, wearing a grin that the butler himself would have never displayed while on duty. Diavolo entered the room, his gait not nearly as smooth as Barbatos’ own. He pushed the silver cart too quickly, and a wrinkle in the rug nearly sent its entire contents flying. Diavolo only shrugged with a cheeky smile at the commotion, a smile that also was not appropriate for working hours, and placed a sandwich on the desk. The bread had uneven cuts, and there were splatters of ketchup on the plate.
“I made it myself.” Diavolo’s borrowed tail arched back and forth gleefully.
“Indeed.” Despite his dry tone, Barbatos lifted the malformed sandwich to his lips with a curious smile and took a bite. It could not be called good, but it wasn’t the worst thing Barbatos had ever tasted. If anything, it was just… excessive. Diavolo was very generous with his portions and heavy-handed with the condiments. Barbatos washed the bite down with the weak tea provided. He had to admit, if sloppy plating and coloured water were the worst outcomes of this nightmarish switch, then the butler would consider them lucky.
“So, how was your morning?” Diavolo asked, picking up a berry tart with pristine gloves and taking a bite. Barbatos flinched at the stain that slowly seeped into the fabric. “Did you enjoy your meeting with Ms. Devildom?”
Barbatos narrowed his eyes at the faux innocence of the question. “You know?”
“Of course I know, they phoned ‘you’. You agreed to a lap dance?” Diavolo laughed. “How was it? She won the pageant, so it had to be pretty good.”
“I would not know. I stopped her before it progressed too far.”
“But not before they got a suggestive photo. We have a special account for bribes? I don’t into that much trouble, do I?” Barbatos arched an eyebrow and Diavolo didn’t pursue it further. Instead, he changed the topic. “And the appeals?”
“Compared to how the day started, it was a simple process. By law, none deserved release and the teary-eyed antics of their loved ones did not sway me.” Despite the casual way Barbatos spoke, it had been harder than expected to maintain his impartiality. “It took a mere half-hour, and I used the time saved more efficiently. I’ve gotten a head start on weeding out the unacceptable applications for your honour guard.”
Now Diavolo looked more like a proper Barbatos, perfectly replicating the disapproving look that the butler often saw in the mirror. “The letter of the law is not always justice. Circumstances change, people change. You need to be more flexible.”
“Do I?” Barbatos arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, you do. Not every day has to go to plan and not everything has to be done by your hand.”
“There are some things I cannot trust others to do properly.” Even though the Prince had spent a day in his shoes, it seemed that he still didn’t understand the weight on Barbatos’ shoulders.
“Some things? More like everything! You do not trust the scullery maids to do dishes! Or the cooks to plan the meal! Or the steward to screen the mail!” Diavolo’s intense emotions drove the butler’s voice out of its normal range.
There was ice in the normally jovial voice of the Prince when Barbatos countered his objections. “Some dishes are ancient relics. Some menus require attention to detail to avoid offending the cultures of our guests. And, some of the mail is sensitive, meant for only your eyes or mine.”
“But even you aren’t perfect. You make mistakes too. You checked the mail and Little Lucifer still made it to my office.”
Those words pierced Barbatos’ heart.His pain must have slipped past his masked expression, because Diavolo apologized immediately. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it is true. I made a mistake that put you in danger.” Barbatos shrank back in the chair, his shame making the larger body he inhabited look small. “That is why I cannot let go of a single one of my duties. If I can make such errors, how many more will they make? I do not trust them with you.”
“I’m not asking you to trust them with me,” Diavolo said softly, approaching the desk. He laid a hand on Barbatos’ shoulder. “But dishes, they are replaceable.”
Barbatos shook his head. What would have been a quiet laugh in his own body was a deep rumble in this one. “You make it look so easy.”
“What? What do I make look easy?” Diavolo asked, tilting his head in confusion.
“The empathy. It is a rare trait in our kind. It is what makes you an excellent leader, not the blood in your veins.” Barbatos reached up and squeezed the comforting hand on his shoulder. “It is an honour to serve you.”
“I can only be the ruler you see because you take care of the details. I have no idea how you do it, but you make it look seamless.”
It was a beautiful moment. One that should be cherished.
One that was interrupted by a panicked cry.
“The kitchen’s on fire!”