Tohueyo

by Yuriy

Summary:

Asmodeus was the last of the sins to be brought into the palace to see Stolas.
Belphegor had naturally been the first and she had said that what ailed the young prince was something of the soul poisoning the body. Leviathan had been brought next, but the prince was not ill with envy or in need of something someone else possessed. Mammon came after, and much like Leviathan, the prince didn’t suffer from greed. Asmodeus was a last, desperate effort to find a cure for the sick prince.
“Do you know what is it that ails my son?” Paimon asked quite concerned.
“The prince is sick with lust. He has given out his heart and no one but the owner can cure him.”
Before Paimon could interject that Stolas was set to marry soon, Lucifer clapped at his side with a maddening grin and said in a jovial, mischievous voice.
“Ah, to be young again and falling in love! The heart wishes what it wishes,” Lucifer said in a sagely voice, stopping Paimon’s fit. He turned to his friend with a sharp smile, like a knife recently sharpened. “Bring Stolas his heart! I won’t have my prophet diminished.”

Notes:

This story is inspired in a legend but with some plot points modified to fit my idea better. There are a few elements that didn’t happen like in canon which have affected some of the characters’ personalities. They aren’t entirely changed, but some things are different.
This is also my first time writing Charlie and Vaggie, so I apologise if I messed up their personalities.

Chapter 1: Reunion

Pentagram was a dreadful sight. Pride as a whole caused trepidation in most of the low nobility, although few would dare—if anyone did—to say something upsetting within His Infernal Majesty’s hearing. The city stunk of death both recent and aged, and the roads were infested with sinners of different shapes and sizes. They were mostly violent and disrespectful, reaching beyond their means and believing their addiction to souls and vices would set them pair to pair with the nobles.

Powerful nobles found them annoying. A plague of cockroaches not worth of their time. The low-ranking nobility found them good allies and a source of money, a magical addition that presented a good partnership. The prince had been lectured extensively on the proper treatment of sinners: as long as they were useful and served a purpose, it was perfectly fine to keep them in his company. They were replaceable, like imps, no matter what Her Royal Highness, Princess Charlotte preached. The prince had his doubts, however. If they were so replaceable and unimportant, why did Princess Charlotte spend so much of her allotted free time to search their redemption? Why were some sinners elevated to the title of Overlords and given so much privilege? It wasn’t to have them work as spies on Heaven, this Stolas had asked the princess one of the few times he was left alone with her.

Stolas found Charlie’s redemption project fascinating. The princess was two centuries his senior and her project relatively new, something she had devoted herself into these last two decades of her life, nurturing it from the ground like the shy and delicate bud of a plant in need of careful, patient care. It hadn’t started with the hotel, its renovation had come later, when she had a baseline and a loyal companion who believed in her ideas. The hotel had come when she brought the subject of how souls could be reached to her father, who had brought it to Stolas’ father. The hotel came as a place of housing and conducting experiments, and as much as Stolas didn’t truly understand the complexity of the soul, he understood the importance of experimentation. As a treat, his father had allowed Stolas to accompany him in his several trips to work in the princess’ project.

The secrets of life and death were outside Stolas’ domains, yet he was still in charge of gathering the materials used in every sacred ritual in Hell. He had the knowledge of the future, knew the celestial maps by heart and could even modify them; he knew all the plants that grew above and under the soil, its properties and its secrets; he knew the properties of the precious gems’ that grew buried deep in bowels of the earth. The soul was an abstract, an immaterial thing, but the vessel that house it was easy to mould and replicate. Stolas’ intervention in the princess’ project was limited to his plants, and to whatever the princess wishes to share with him while he waited for her and his father’s direction.

Princess Charlie enjoyed talking about her project. She shared her dreams of getting sinners into Heaven with him, taking to Stolas’ sincere and curious questions like an excited teacher. Her infectious optimism and gentle nature were more than enough reason for Stolas to brave the trip from his father’s palace in the outskirts of Imp City to Pentagram in the dreadful company of his wife-to-be, with her cruel brother and Mr Butler’s as chaperons.

This time Stolas wasn’t travelling to help her set any ritual or to act as her dutiful student and listen to her (and her Vaggie’s) new ideas to make the hotel work. This trip was of a different kind, but Princess Charlie and he had exchanged letters, promises of sharing knowledge, and the thought of a kindred spirit reassured Stolas’ anxiousness.

The relativity of time was never felt as strong and heavy as in his betrothed’s company. Stella was… critical with a sharp tongue and little patience for anyone. Andrealphus was no better, only more incisive and calculating, with polite words that he used as barbed missiles. Their mutual interest in astronomy hadn’t eased their interactions, and Stolas had given up endearing himself into the Marquis’ graces a long time ago.

“How long will we have to wait? I have been stuck inside this place with this smelly creature long enough,” Stella whined to her brother in a pitiful voice. She fanned herself, lowering the window only a fraction and scrunching her nose. “Disgusting. It stenches of sinners.”

“Now, now, darling, we will arrive soon, and you can take advantage of His Majesty’s amenities.”

Stolas narrowed his eyes and pressed his beak in a tight line. Mr Butler was immutable as ever, sitting primly at his prince’s side and holding a few refreshments for the young royals. Stolas huffed and leaned closer to the imp, taking some solace from his resilience and indifference. He ignored if the words truly didn’t faze him or if they did and he simply ignored them as the whining of unruly hatchlings, not that dissimilar as he had done with Stolas as a child.

Wordlessly, Stolas was offered some tea. The offering was accompanied by a lingering touch to his side, a silent reprimand for slouching. He was the prince and had to conduct himself properly, keep his head high and let unsavoury words slide unless he was prepared to act and assume the consequences of his behaviour.

Stolas straightened his posture, grabbed the tea and muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ to the butler. His comfort was subtle and seldom in public, but it watered Stolas’ deserted heart.

“Imp, serve us refreshments. We are famished.”

“He has a name,” Stolas said louder than expected, boring reproachful eyes on Andrealphus.

Stella rolled her eyes. “He’s an imp. Whatever matters if it has a name or not? An imp is an imp.”

“He is my father’s butler. As your host, you should be gracious with his attentiveness.” Stolas pushed. His father could care less what Mr Butler was called, but it was good manners to show some courtesy towards the kind gesture of their king.

Andrealphus smiled indulgently. The hand he was using to hold a handkerchief to his beak remained stoically there, but his free hand patted his sister’s arm soothingly. “You are so endearingly unique as ever, Stolas. We do wish refreshments, and it is also gracious not to starve one’s guests.”

Mr Butler got to his feet and served the other two some refreshments as if they hadn’t called him an ‘it’ a few moments ago. The aloofness and professionalism in his actions and behaviour soon bored Stella, who return to talk to her brother and complain about sinners. Stolas wasn’t so easily pacified, but the silent reprimand in Mr Butler’s eyes when he refilled his cup felt chastising enough.

The three remained silent for the remaining of the trip. Stolas sipping his tea and ignoring Andrealphus and Stella, more concerned with the oncoming ceremony and the vows he would take. His father had remembered his name for once and made sure he had all his outfits prepared and fitted, and even if he hadn’t looked proud when Stolas showed him the mastery over his domains, he hadn’t commented negatively on them either.

The car parked outside Paimon’s residence in Pentagram at dinner time. Stella and her brother went to their rooms’ to refresh themselves, and Stolas followed Mr Butler to his own set of rooms. He undid is jacket and threw himself on the bed, huffing in true teenage fashion. Mr Butler chided him gently, settling Stolas’ belongings in their usual place. Most of his things had been sent ahead of time, with only a suitcase brought along with him.

“They are infuriating. I don’t understand why father insisted on their presence at the ceremony.”

“Lady Stella will be your wife, my prince. She must know and understand the weight of her responsibilities to you and to Hell. She is also an unmarried and underage lady; her brother’s presence is necessary.” Mr Butler explained patiently as he sorted Stolas’ vanity, setting the items in the order the prince liked.

“They could have travelled by different means or at a different day. The ceremony is in three days, there was plenty of time for them to get here on their own. Father should know by now that forcing us to spend time together will not make us fond of each other.”

Stella had made her displeasure towards Stolas and their fated nuptials very clear. They had only seen each other in photos before when they were ten and then when they were fourteen, and both photos were unflattering and undeceiving. Their first proper meeting was only two years ago, on Stella’s court debut party; Stolas had been forced to attend, dress up in something other than black, and be prepared to make conversation instead of burying his head in a book. Stella had been disappointed and stated her displeasure out loud, maybe too accustomed to have her way and be praised regardless. Stolas’ father, also used to have his way, was quick to inform her and her family that her feelings were very irrelevant in the matter and to limit herself to do her duty or she would be replaced with someone who did.

It was the only time Stolas saw Andrealphus snapping at his sister. This, however, only cemented the already brewing animosity between them. Stella was more careful of when and how she said things, but things she said, and Andrealphus only cared to reign her in when the king was close.

“The king’s decisions are not for us to question,” Mr Butler said primly. “You are no longer a young hatchling, my prince. Whining like one is unbefitting of your station.”

Stolas quickly scrambled up from his bed into a sitting position, a tinge of light pink dusting his cheeks in shame. The rebuke was softer coming from Mr Butler than it would be coming from his father; it was factual and blunt, not reproving and exasperated. Stolas still felt ashamed of himself and his behaviour.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The short imp stopped fussing over the vanity, grabbing a bottle. He approached the prince, his steps firm and his voice gentle. “You did no such thing, young prince. You are within your right to express your displeasure with your father’s decision but questioning him would be unwise.”

Stolas stared at the bottle in Mr Butler’s hands and felt slightly better. He lowered himself on the ground—much to the butler’s protests—and closed his eyes, positioning his head within the imp’s reach to be preened. The routine was a familiar, comforting one. Mr Butler wasn’t much for words despite being an understanding ear to his prince, and Stolas had grown to appreciate the silence between them in those agitated times.

“I am nervous,” Stolas said after several minutes of silence, when his hurt had been thoroughly soothed, and the nerves of the ceremony had come back in full. “I had expected father to wait one more year. He seemed content with just having me transcribing and translating the stored prophecies from the archives. Does this mean he thinks I am strong enough already? I have completed my magical training and have full mastery of my three domains, so it would make sense from a logical point of view. Have I pleased him? Is he proud of me?”

“You are an exemplary heir, my prince. I trust your father knows how talented and skilful you are, as he has moved your ceremony.” Mr Butler said as primly as ever, but there was a tinge of pride colouring his words. Stolas preened at the praise, his feathers fluffing slightly. “I will have the kitchen staff know to bring your favourite snack.”

Oh. Stolas almost trilled, barely containing his excitement. It wasn’t often when he got spoiled before dinner. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I will take a short nap.”

“Very well. When do you wish to be woken up?”

“Twenty minutes should be more than enough. I have some reading to catch up with before meeting father.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dinner was a quiet affair. Paimon hadn’t been interested in making small talk and his dismissal of Andrealphus when the marquis tried to talk about their trip submerged the table in an awkward silence. Stella seemed displeased but cowed in front of the king. Andrealphus tried to keep a polite and charming smile, pretending he wasn’t at all embarrassed at being dismissed so quickly. Stolas, who was used to his father’s moods, was idly flicking through the pages of his book, ignoring the present company.

Only after dessert was plated and tea or wine was served, Paimon decided to initiate conversation, as if only then he realised he had company.

“Tomorrow, I will meet with Princess Charlotte for lunch at her hotel. She has gathered a quaint group of subjects for her pet project that His Infernal Majesty insists I must see. You are coming with me, Stolos. This promises to be quite the educational experience.”

Quite the ‘educational experience’ meant Paimon refused to sit through another musical episode alone. Stolas had no problem listening to Princess Charlie break into a song in the middle of normal conversation. She had a beautiful voice and in more than one occasion had pulled him into a song as well. He enjoyed her upbeat attitude, and her songs were always soothing and encouraging. Her behaviour was refreshing compared to half the Goetia family. He was also interested in this group of sinners if they caught Princess Charlotte’s attention.

“Yes, father. Thank you for considering me,” he said politely to hide the underlined excitement. He lowered his book, marking the page. “Should I take notes, father? Last time was an enlightening experience.”

Paimon considered it for a moment, his piercing eyes studying Stolas’ face, only then actually paying attention to his son and his book. “If that pleases you,” the king said with a bit of fondness.

Stolas straightened in his seat. His father had to be in high spirits. “Thank you, father,” he said and dipped his head. He could act giddy and tell Mr Butler all about it once he was back in his room.

Andrealphus and Stella had exchanged curious and confused glances during the conversation between father and son. Neither was used to be ignored so rudely, especially not by Stolas, but since the king seemed uninterested in chastising the prince for being a poor host there was little to complain about without being scolded themselves.

“Apologies for interrupting, Your Majesty,” Andrealphus said when the conversation lulled, “I was wondering if we would be accompanying you in this visit or there were other engagements for us.”

“I have never been to Pentagram before,” Stella added with a glint in her eyes. She had never talked to Princess Charlotte either, and despite all the rumours surrounding the princess, she was Lucifer’s daughter and that meant something in the social ladder. “I was hoping to spend some time with Stolas as well,” she added with a hopeful expression that fooled no one.

“This would be a marvellous opportunity for my sister and the prince to bond,” Andrealphus was quick to add to his sister’s comment. After the long travel, he was unwilling to be relegated to a mere spectator until the ceremony.

Stolas almost reeled at the blatant lie. Stella hated him and Andrealphus was an opportunistic twit, of that he had no doubt, but he didn’t know how to phrase his refusal politely.

Paimon had a pensive face. He had clearly not thought about that when he dragged Andrealphus and Stella along with Stolas. Stella’s only purpose was to attend the ceremony and give a vow, what she did the rest of her time in Pentagram was of no concern to him. Stolas, however, had duties that required his focus.

“Stolos won’t have time to entertain your sister,” he finally dismissed, ignoring the embarrassed blush in Stella’s face. “Take her to visit the city or whatever, I have no business with either of you until the ceremony.”

Stolas let out a discrete sigh of relief.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Andrealphus gritted out.

The king stood up and everyone followed, leaving the remaining of their desserts. “Stolos, follow me, we still have a few things to discuss. Andrealphus, take security with you when you leave with your sister, Pentagram isn’t the safest place to be.”

Stolas followed his father to his study. He was breathing in an out, keeping himself calm as they walked. As much as it was rare to see his father angry, it was also an oddity to be given so much attention. Paimon was one of the few demons outside the Sins that Lucifer trusted with duties outside Hell, so more often than not his father was absent on business for the king. Stolas had been told several times that he was lucky to be working on a project with his father before being officially given a position in court or the council. He was just glad that his father seemed pleased with him.

They entered the brightly illuminated room that wasn’t much different from Stolas’ own study in the estate outside Imp City. The room had a small entertaining area, two chaises with a table in front of them, a liquor cabinet next to the door, tall windows and a desk made of obsidian. Behind the desk was a staircase that led to a second floor with several bookshelves and a workshop desk.

They went upstairs and Paimon grabbed a book bound in red leather. Written in gold was the title “Rites of Calling: the binding, forging and splitting of souls and grace” by Unknown. The king handed Stolas the book, who took it with grabby hands and widen eyes. A book from his father’s private library?

“How old are you, child?”

Stolas committed the mistake of squeaking in front of his father. He flushed in shame, but for once his father seemed amused by his ‘childish noises’. The question was simply out of the blue. His age had never seemed important to his father, and right now it was unrelated to the book in his hands…unless it was another stepping stone as the grimoire had been, an heirloom inherited when he was ready.

“I’m seventeen, father.”

“You are still so young,” Paimon said in a quiet voice, as if it was more a thought than something to share with Stolas.

Stolas hadn’t felt young since he was ten and his father placed the grimoire in his hands. He had felt important, trusted, and as if his existence finally had a purposed. He had felt eager to show his father he wasn’t wrong for considering Stolas and, perhaps, if he did really well, he would be allowed out of the palace. He ha poured all his energy and his waking hours to study the grimoire, to master its content, to repeat over and over every sigil until he could draw them in his sleep, until his body couldn’t move from exhaustion and Mr Butler had to carry him to bed and force food down his throat. It had been rewarding, but Stolas hadn’t felt young.

His betrothal had been the last nail in his proverbial coffin. The hours of intense magical study were rewarding—they got him closer to his father every day, slowly, but surely—while the prospect of marrying someone, of having a baby…of letting someone touch him and touching someone was unbearable. It made his skin crawl. It had made him feel less young, like on a deadline he didn’t want to reach no matter how much he wanted to show his father his usefulness.

“Come, let’s sit.”

Stolas followed father to the ground level, half-expecting to sit at the desk. His father walked past the desk and pointed at one of the cushioned chairs on the entertaining area, but he didn’t sit straight away. Paimon opened the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle with a pale pink content and two glasses. He poured them, sat a glass in front of Stolas—only half filled—and one for himself as he sat across the prince.

“It’s sweet and not too strong. You will be expected to drink at social events from now on. Politics are made with a drink on your hand, Stolas, and you will be right at the centre of them. Build up your resistance, you can’t afford getting drunk easily, and they will try to tamper your drinks, your food, to make you pliant and bend to their way. You can’t allow it.”

Stolas blinked owlishly at the advice. His father had never advised him before—not on the grimoire, not on anything—and it felt, suddenly, as if this lesson was far more important than any other conversation they had had. His father was talking with him, not to him. It gave him the courage to ask questions, to answer beyond a ‘yes, father’.

“They? Who are they?” Stolas stared at the glistening drink under the light of the chimney’s fire. It looked enticing. It smelled sweet, like a mix of fruits and flowers, but it was hard to pin-point the exact type even for someone like him. “I’m only a prince.”

“He is only a prince.” Those were his siblings’ exact words in the two occasions they had met him. Stolas had learnt their titles before that meeting, eager to please as usual, but also wanting to show them how much he cared even if he had never seen them. “He is only a prince.” It was said dismissively. There had been a mocking undertone, an implication that Stolas could have been more—should have been, in fact—but was only a prince and that was disappointing. Father hadn’t corrected them, but he hadn’t made Stolas bow to his much more important siblings.

Father stared at him with a known look. His calculating look. It was intimidating to be at the centre of his full attention.

“You must learn how jealousy sounds, Stolas,” Father said and picked up his drink, sipping lazily from it. “What is the first thought that comes to mind when you think of Princess Charlotte?”

Stolas tilted his head. The question seemed like a distraction, but his father was staring intently at him. “Kindness. She is very kind.”

“Yes. She has big dreams, not unlike her father. Would you say she is powerful?”

“I suppose she must be. She is the princess.”

“Yes, but would you say she is upon first meeting her? Would you assume she is the second most powerful being in all of hell?”

Ah. He understood his father’s question now. When Stolas thought of Charlie, he thought of the princess who patiently listened to him, who soothed his fears, who jumped into a musical and was always laughing, dreaming, pushing Hell forward. He thought of someone who brought light to a darkened, forgotten world. Someone who forgave easily and loved too strongly.

“She is charismatic. That is a type of strength, isn’t it? But her power is not the first thing that comes to mind even when I know she is.”

“Would you say Haborym is powerful?”

Stolas thought of his older brother and the only time he had seen him. He was three hundred years his senior and his reception of a five-year-old nestling following with his eyes had been a tad disproportionate. It had left an impression on Stolas—why wouldn’t it? The small plant in his hands had burst in fearsome flams, and the fire had been so intense Stolas had been left with blisters even when it had barely licked his skin—that carried to this day, both the derision in his brother’s face—“He is only a prince.”—and the physical response from his father.

“Yes,” the answer came immediately in a hushed voice. If his father hadn’t intervened and thrown back the flames to Haborym, Stolas would have not survived it. “He said it was a harmless prank.” Stolas’ plant hadn’t survived, or the pot, and Haborym had a scar where the fire hat him back courtesy of their father.

“There are two types of power, Stolas, and only one that truly matters. Lucifer is powerful, whether he uses that power, it changes not the fact that he is and will always be. He doesn’t need to flaunt it. It becomes unassuming and let others forget, underestimate you, until they are reminded of that power. Haborym has power, but he isn’t powerful. He makes loud displays to cower others, to make himself look more fearsome than he actually is. The fire he threw at you then would be harmless to you now that you are master of your three domains. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?”

Was he stronger than Haborym? His brother was a Great Duke of Hell. They had the same number of legions--or would have, after the ceremony in three days—but Stolas was only a prince. There were other princes out there, even marquises, with more legions than him. How could he compare?

Father laughed, merrily, and it didn’t feel like he was laughing at Stolas. He saw him sip from his glass again, the glistening pink slowly disappearing.

“Fire can be suffocated to death, Stolas. It can be prevented, too,” Father stared at him, voice soft, as if they were sharing a secret. “The universe was written in the light of the stars. The stars were sung into existence.”

“I don’t understand,” the confessed.

“You will. You have mastered your three domains already and in three days you will be officially appointed a position in two courts; after the ceremony, you will be a Great Prince of Hell, but that is not all you will be. I think you are old enough to read this book and understand its content. Read it, learnt it well, and when time comes, pass it down to your chosen heir in case you have more than one. The knowledge the book stores is not for the weak, Stolas.”

A chosen heir. Is that what he was? Chosen? Over his powerful brothers and sisters? Over dukes and duchesses?

“Take a sip of that drink and throw the rest to the fire if it is too strong. You are free to leave.”

Stolas took a sip, the flavour fruity yet strong on his tongue. He took another sip before his stomach protested; his blood was boiling inside him. He threw the rest to the fire and set the glass on its original position. He dipped his head to his father, who waved at him in dismissal.

“Thank you for the advice, father.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I think we should take a break if that’s all right with you. Lunch sounds nice, right?” Charlie laughed nervously as she stared at the owl king and the prince. She had been working shoulder to shoulder with Paimon for the past eight five years and she had grown used to him. It was the child who made Charlie nervous. Stolas took everything so seriously and to heart, and she was afraid that if she didn’t ask for a break he would work himself to the bone.

They had made some progress. Vaggie would argue that it was little, that the sinners who volunteered were uninterested in what they were trying to achieve, and she would be right to some extent. The only consistent presence was Angel Dust, and even that was self-serving, however, Charlie knew how hard it was to harbour hope in a place like Hell. They didn’t even have solid proof, only the hope that it would work—because it had to work—and that would deter Heaven from coming down and exterminate the sinners. At least now her father supported her and had lent her one of his closest advisors.

They didn’t have concrete evidence, but they had a Goetic King on their team. They had funds and a place to host their candidates. Fuck, his father had even agreed to review Angel’s contract after she said it was detrimental for Angel's progress. It was more than she had had ten years ago.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“We have food at the hotel if you want to stay,” Vaggie offered from the side, looking specifically at the young prince.

Paimon followed Vaggie’s line of sight. Stolas was still counting the samples they had extracted that they, jotting the information down on his notebook and muttering to himself. Charlie was looking at him, however, almost shy of asking him to let Stolas stay. Paimon would have laughed at the princess’ courtesy if he didn’t know better. She was genuine in her behaviour. She didn’t ask to give him the pretence of agency. She asked because she saw Stolas as his child, not a tool for her future reign, and if Paimon said no and took his owlet with him she would allow it.

“I have a meeting to attend with your father, Your Highness, but Stolas can stay if that is what you wanted to ask. Although you will have to pry him from those plants yourself if you want him to eat, I’m afraid.”

Charlie beamed at the positive answer. It was always positive, but she didn’t want to assume it would always be. She saw Vaggie approach Stolas then, her body relaxed and a less stern expression on her face when she talked to the prince. Vaggie hadn’t warmed up to Paimon yet, but Stolas had been a known presence since he was twelve and a child was far easier to talk to and to understand.

“Thank you. We will drive him home safely; you can trust me on that.”

Princess Charlotte didn’t see Stolas as a gift from her father and that eased Paimon a little. She was still sweet and naïve, undeterred by Heaven’s demands and unburdened by the weight of self-perceived failures. If this project of hers worked, if it managed to redeem sinners into to Heaven, then perhaps that would bring some life back to Lucifer as well. Paimon could only hope.

What a funny little thing. Hope in hell.

“Of course. I will take my leave, Your Highness.”

Charlie grabbed Paimon’s talons in a bold movement—she was unrestrained, always so eager and filling every room with her presence—and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Charlie saw the startled king leave the hotel before she turned back to where Vaggie had finally pried the notebook from Stolas’ hands. Her girlfriend was lecturing on the importance of self-care. Charlie joined them, clapping her hands excitedly.

“What do you think about lunch and a tour around the hotel? I bet you will like the gardens. Although they need a little help, neither Vaggie nor I have a green thumb. Our shrubs are a little sad.”

“Oh!” Stolas hooted, looking away from Vaggie. “I would like that very much.”

“It’s decided, then. We’ll start with the gardens, and you can tell us how to fix them,” Charlie said as she joined one arm with Stolas’. “Vaggie and I wanted to bring in some flora from other rings to make it more appealing to sinners who come from different weathers. We just need a way not to kill them.”

Vaggie wasn’t much for physical contact with anyone who wasn’t Charlie, but it was hard to keep her distance from the owl prince when she'd met him as a cotton fluffy ball who barely reached her waist. He was now only a head shorter than Charlie and his feathers were now darker in colour and longer, but he still spoke as softly as he did when they first met. It was hard to see him as a full-fledged prince of hell and master of prophecy when she still saw him as a child.

“We killed our current plants too. I think we watered too much,” Vaggie confessed with a smile. She didn’t link her arm with his, but she walked to his other side, keeping him between her and Charlie as they did when he was smaller.

“Oh. I hope I can do something for them. I think your idea is very kind. Father brought me plants from his trips as well. It helped me dimension how things were outside Pride.”

Charlie exchanged a quick look with Vaggie, who was leaning forward. Charlie understood Goetic politics were a monster of their own, her own father rarely meddled because of how convoluted they were. Charlie herself didn’t leave Pride as often, too preoccupied with her project, but what she had seen of the other citizens of hell had broken her heart a little. There was just so much to do, and it felt like her efforts weren’t enough, her priorities weren’t ever enough.

She couldn’t even protect those closest to her. They had discussed Stolas’ nuptials and what—because there was no way she was leaving it alone—to do when the announcement came. Stolas and Stella were only seventeen; Charlie didn’t know her, but she didn’t need to, because no child should have the need to raise children. They were too young, not even into their first century, to bear that burden. Vaggie had reminded her that kidnapping a goetic prince under his father’s very nose wasn’t exactly wise, but within the same breath she had assured Charlie that if she went through with that plan she would be right beside her, ready to defend their home and all people within.

Charlie knew it rubbed Vaggie the wrong way as well.

They arrived at the sad excuse of a garden that was more wilted weeds than anything else. Stolas let out a saddened hoot, confirming their suspicions that it was beyond all hope, before pushing up the sleeves of his shirt and square his shoulders in determination as he marched towards the carnage on the garden.

Vaggie startled when the notebook she had confiscated flew from her pocket into the prince’s hands. She frowned, because he was only supposed to watch before they out for lunch but didn’t stop him when Charlie leaned her head against her. They watched him assess their garden in silence, never once voicing what they all knew: it was a hopeless endeavour with nothing to save. They watched him get down on his knees, ruining the pristine clothes he was wearing, and digging on the flowerbeds for a sign of life.

“It is hopeless, isn’t it?”

“It is…bad, not hopeless,” Stolas said gently. “You want people to feel welcomed here, right? I think…even if we can’t save all of them, there is something to be done,” he turned around with a wide, victorious smile, holding something in his hands. “She’s so tired, but she is a survivor. I think she will make it. I will do my best to help her and to make this a place people want to visit. You can trust me, Your Highness.”

Stolas had that look of purpose only youth could give. Every seventeen year old believed they could change the world, and the world had a bone to pick with them, a need to kick them down and keep them there. Charlie hadn’t outgrown that stage. She had refused to let the world make her brittle and bitter. She didn’t want Stolas to grow into a bitter prince or, worse, to wilt like the flowers in their unattended garden. He deserved to bloom.

“Charlie,” Charlie corrected him sweetly. She reminded him every time they saw each other, and every time it was easier for him to accept the correction without looking over his shoulders, as if afraid someone would come and scold him. “We’ve known each other for a long time, Stolas, and I consider you a friend. Friends call each other by their names, remember? You don’t have to address us formally, especially not here.”

“Right. Sorry, Charlie…I just wanted to show you how serious I take making your hotel a welcoming place. I can’t do anything else. I’m not as strong and resourceful as my father, but I want…I want to see your Hotel work. I like the world you talk about.”

Charlie smiled. Vaggie did too. Few people believed in their dream. Charlie knew her father didn’t believe redemption was possible, but he didn’t want to lose her like he lose mum. He would give her anything she asked. Paimon believed there was a slim chance, but he didn’t care what it meant for the sinners whose lives had been lost. He looked at it as a means to help her father and, even if their goals were different, Charlie couldn’t be too upset. But Stolas, like Vaggie, believed in her. They believed her dream could work.

“Thank you, Stolas,” she said with a voice full of emotion. “Vaggie and I wish to build a home for anyone who needs it and for however long they do; a haven for weary souls, for those who want to do better, be better; for those who think there is no forgiveness, because there is. And you are welcomed here. Our door will always be open for you, sweetling. Please come to us if you ever need us.”

Vaggie was holding her now, being the strength Charlie lacked, because as much as she wished Hell to be a better place she knew the reality of it. She didn’t dream because she was ignorant. She dreamed because refused to give into despair.

Stolas’ smile faded as he turned his head back, facing the garden again. The small sapling in his hands tenderly placed in a different flowerbed with tenderness.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

It sounded so polite. Charlie felt her heart break.

“Sto—”

Vaggie squeezed her hand and shook her head, whispering to her. “He knows. You have to trust he will come to us if he needs us.”

Charlie nodded.

“Do you need another pair of hands? We weren’t kidding about lunch,” Vaggie said as she approached the prince with a light frown. “You two have been working all day. Let’s finish here so we can eat.”

“Oh, apologies, Ms…Apologies, Vaggie.”

“Oh, she knew we would get derailed if we came to the garden first. But I agree, let’s get to work and save all the plants!” Charlie jumped in her place, giddy, and ready to do what Stolas asked as their current plant expert.

It took them another hour to finish with the garden and leave it in a decent shape to have plants brought from other parts of Pride. Little had been salvaged, but the couple of saplings Stolas had declared survivors were already secured and cooing at the young prince.

They left the garden sweaty and dirty, so Vaggie insisted on them taking a shower before lunch. Half an hour later, they were on the lounge having their share of finger sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade while Charlie talked about her plans to redecorate the hotel and adapt certain areas for group activities. Vaggie nodded every now and then, happy to listen to Charlie’s voice. Stolas made attentive bird noises, blinking owlishly from time to time, and asking questions for further clarification on some of Charlie’s ideas. He didn’t mock her, even as kid, he hadn’t mocked Charlie, and Vaggie had relaxed in the face of his genuine acceptance and curiosity.

She never understood how he and Paimon were related, honestly, but Charlie had said that her father thought really high of Paimon, so there might be some resemblance somewhere.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Stolas burrowed his eyes, curious, while Vaggie quickly scrambled up.

“It must be the performers.”

“Performers?”

“Vaggie!” Charlie pouted. “Oh, well. Dad wanted to have some entertainment after the ceremony and, since you apparently like the circus, he got this idea of asking Mammon to put up a show. Apparently there weren’t enough accommodations close to the palace,” she frowned, obviously unconvinced by the words, “and they were being pushed across the city, so I offered up the hotel. We have enough rooms.”

“I’ll get them settled,” Vaggie said before Charlie could panic. “You two can cook something.”

“Thanks! Let’s fix some more sandwiches, Stolas. I think there’s another lemonade pitcher in the fridge, or maybe some fizzy drinks.”

“Huh, of course,” Stolas agreed unsurely. He had never cooked before, but he had helped chopping the fillers for the sandwiches.

While Stolas and Charlie went back into the hotel’s kitchen for more refreshments, Vaggie let the performers into the lobby. It was a small group of only four imps, three looked like teens and an adult woman. Vaggie looked outside the door as if expecting more people, but no one else was there.

“Huh, is it just you?”

“Yeah,” said the only teen girl. “Why? Do you think we’re not enough?”

Vaggie arched an eyebrow, shrugged, and closed the door. “Mammon made it sound like he expected Charlie to host a full troupe. I’m Vaggie and this is the Happy Hotel, we’re happy to welcome you. Charlie and the kiddo are fixing food, so let me take you to your rooms. You can introduce yourselves when we’re all together—there may be a song.” Charlie had been practising, after all.

“Thank you, Miss Vaggie. You are very kind,” the woman said, placing a hand on the teen girl’s head.

The rooms were on the first floor and all of them next to one another. They had a bed, a closet, and a full bathroom included. The walls were painted in bright colours and a few motivational phrases, a standard decoration until they had full occupants. Vaggie pointed at one of the rooms near the stairs and said:

“That room is already occupied, so stay away from it. These are your keys,” she handed over the black keys to each of them, “the outside is keyed to the permanent residents, so currently only four people can come and go without problem. If you go out just tell me when you’re coming back so I can let you in. Now, do you want to freshen up or coming down for food?”

Imps were around everywhere, although they weren’t the main population in Pentagram. Most of the imps living in Pride congregated in Imp City or Agalmatis. Vaggie still had seen her fair share not to gawk at them, especially when she was acting as hostess. The teenagers stared at her while the adult woman nodded her understanding.

“We would like a moment to refresh. We’ll go down shortly, thank you.”

“Sure…huh, are you allergic to anything? We currently don’t have much meat, but we’ll get go to the grocers for dinner. Any requests?”

“Hot sauce and cheese,” the tallest boy said. “Any brand’s fine.”

“We don’t have any allergies either,” the woman said. “Thank you, Miss Vaggie.”

“Got it,” Vaggie said and wrote the request on her phone. They had planned on taking Stolas’ out for some greasy food at Charlie’s insistence of keeping the prince with them for as long as possible without it being considered a kidnapping.

Downstairs, Charlie and Stolas had finished whipping out two plates of finger sandwiches, had several snacks consisted of pretzels and crisps on bowls, and a few cans of fizzy drinks. Charlie looked proud of their work when Vaggie wandered in, smiling at the uncharred kitchen.

“Very proud of you babe,” Vaggie said as she cupped Charlie’s face and kissed her softly. “I let them settle upstairs. They’re a small troupe of four people, an adult woman and three teenagers, so we don’t need all this food, but we should still go shopping for dinner. Charlie wants to have a movie marathon for dinner; the teens look around your age,” she said the last bit to Stolas, who despite not being a kid anymore seemed really interested in the idea.

“Oh, I don’t know if Father will be happy with me coming after dinner.”

“I can call and ask!” Charlie volunteered. “I did say I would drive you home, so we can stretch things a tiny-itty-bit. You don’t have anything to do at home, right?”

Stolas shook his head too fast.

Vaggie and Charlie exchanged another look. They knew about Lady Stella being invited to the ceremony from the long conversations between Charlie and her father, so it was said something that Stolas hadn’t mentioned anything. Charlie had promised herself she would find the time to talk to Stella later on, to get her side of the whole story, but for now she could keep Stolas entertained and happy.

“It’s settled then. Now let’s take this out.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Barbie threw her backpack onto the bedroom. They were taller than the ones in their two-bedroom flat in Greed and the space made her feel self-conscious, but it was the first time she would sleep on her own room without a Blitz belching and farting in the middle of the night just to get a reaction out of her and Fizz. They were just down the hallway, literally next to her door, and Momma was on the door across from hers.

She freshened up and changed into comfier clothes, something that allowed her mobility. She opened the door to Blitz’s raised hand about to knock, he was dressed in clothes that had more holes than fabric he insisted on calling aesthetic.

“Took you long enough.”

Barbie rolled her eyes. “Well, I didn’t want to stink like a hellhog,” she pushed him away and joined Momma and Fizz. Momma was wearing a summer dress and white sandals instead of her usual travel cloak. She looked healthy, healthier than she had ever looked while they lived in the circus, but Barbie still worried about her.

“Remember to be polite, children.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barbie said.

“I had never seen a sinner before,” Blitz said conversationally. “I thought they were taller.”

“They come in different shapes,” Fizz corrected. He was the only one who had performed out of Greed before. “She was nice.”

Barbie shrugged. The sinner had been polite, yes, and no-nonsense. Blitz agreed with her when she said it, while Fizz gave rolled his eyes and helped Momma down the stairs. He wasn’t as on edge as the twins, again, being the one with more experience outside Greed. He had performed for all sort of audiences before. Barbie and Blitz were only the tag-alongs, pulled out for specific routines and then shoved back into other jobs. They didn’t know why they were in Pride, why King Lucifer had insisted on an imp spectacle for whatever thing he wanted.

But they were being paid, all three of them, which wasn’t as common as it should be. Mammon had paid off Fizz’s and Momma’s health bills so, normally, their salaries would go to him. He hadn’t been happy about this, but you can’t tell the King of hell to fuck off. Now they were staying at Lucifer’s daughter hotel for free instead of spending their salaries on overpriced rooms somewhere in Pentagram.

Luck rarely went their way. Barbie was anxious and when she was anxious so was Blitz. Neither realised they were back at the lobby until Fizz called their names whipping his tail against the floor.

The hotel was rundown and had seen better days. The pain was peeling on some places and it smelled strongly of herbs and death. The dining room was a big room with a long table that was barely less ratty than the rest of the hotel. A blond woman with red eyes was at the top of the table, settling some places that a tall and lanky owl was holding in his arms. The sinner that had welcomed them was pouring drinks.

“Oh! You’re here! Ah, that’s great! Dad didn’t say how many people would stay so we prepared a lot of rooms and brought out the big dinning table, but our next meals can be at the kitchen island, right Vaggie?”

The sinner nodded with an indulgent smile. “Yes,” turning to them, she said: “This is Princess Charlie Morningstar, the owner of the Happy Hotel. And this is Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia.”

Princess Charlie Morningstar laughed loudly, as if she wanted to cover her nerves, and waved her hands anxiously before her. “Just Charlie is fine! We don’t do titles here! I’m Charlie, this is Stolas,” the bird squeaked and waved shyly in their direction, “and this is Vaggie. We are very happy to have you here!”

“Thank you so much for hosting us, Your Highness. I’m Tilla and these are my children: Barbie, Blitz and Fizz.”

“Nice to meet you! Please—”

“Blitzo?” the bird asked in a small, curious voice. Barbie had immediately fixed him with a piercing glare. No one used that name anymore. Not after the fire. Blitz had buried it along with their dad.

Barbie half expected her brother to bristle at the bird. Instead, his brother was staring at the Goetia as he did when they went back to grab the last of their belongings after the circus burnt down, like he was taking in all the changes on something he used to know well. Fizz and she exchanged a look that turned into a look when they caught Momma’s expression.

“Do you know each other?” the princess asked. “That’s splendid!”

“Oh, hey, Stolas…It’s Blitz now,” Blitz said pragmatically, but his eyes were fixed on the bird. “Huh, you’re no longer a fluffy cotton ball, heh? You’re tall”

The bird blushed and hooted. “Blitz, of course. You’ve got quite taller yourself.”

“Yeah.”

Barbie tensed at the exchange. It was their luck that Blitz’s stomach rumbled then, reminding them of their long trip without food. The princess laughed again and invited them to sit and eat. They all sat, the sinner to the princess’ right and the bird to the princess’ left. There was enough space to sit away from them, but Blitz, the idiot, sat right next to the prince, forcing Barbie and Fizz to sit close by. Momma sat at the end, right after Barbie.

The sinner stared at them unblinkingly and didn’t speak the rest of the meal, letting the princess ask questions.

The feeling of dread settled nicely in Barbie’s stomach like an old friend. She never wanted to go back to Greed, but right then, she wanted to be anywhere else but close to that sinner who watched over the princess like a soldier.

Lunch passed in that tense environment where Barbie felt like bolting and rooted in her place. When it was done, the princess helped gathering the dishes and insisted on doing the chores herself.

“You’ve travelled all day and must be tired. Vaggie and I can do the dishes. Stolas can show you…”

“Stolas hasn’t been here since for long either, babe. Why don’t you show the kiddo how to use the dishwasher and I’ll take them back upstairs?”

Oh. So, the bird was the kiddo. Neither Barbie nor Fizz missed the intention behind the word, but the princess seemed completely unaware. Blitz too.

“Oh, huh,” the princess turned to the bird and then back to the sinner. “Okay, you’re right. We didn’t finish giving Stolas the tour. We should give them all a tour!”

“That’s a great idea, love. We should do it after dinner, so they have time to rest and recover from the trip.”

“Right!” the princess clapped her hands.

They walked back upstairs in silence. Momma only broke it when the sinner stayed looking a Blitz.

“I don’t know what we did to cause such sudden hostility, but I can reassure you my son didn’t do anything wrong to the prince.”

The sinner shook her head and with that her stern aura lessened. “Look, your son obviously knows the kiddo and the kiddo seems fond of him. I believe that nothing bad happened between them. What Charlie said about titles not mattering only applies here. Only Lucifer has jurisdiction over the hotel, so it is safe. But out there…you must be careful not to show that much friendliness towards each other, it can be dangerous.”

“Of course. We will keep that in mind.”

“It’s not just you… the kiddo also calls Charlie ‘Her Highness’ when she’s at court. So, it isn’t personal, just… Charlie will blame herself if something happens. Please be careful.”

“Do you give this speech to everyone who stays here? Is it part of the service?” Barbie inquired.

The sinner snorted. “No. I wouldn’t give you this speech if that one and fluffy cotton ball weren’t on first name with each other. I’ll leave you to rest, dinner will be around six or seven. You’re free to roam anywhere and if you get lost ask Razzle or Dazzle, the goats, to bring you back. They’re helpful.”

Without another word, the sinner left them to their thoughts.

“What the fuck Blitz?” Barbie was the first to yell, determined to get an answer out of her brother.

Chapter 2: Rekindle

Summary:

Tilla reveals some scretes. Stolas and Blitz reconnect.

Notes:

It's short. I have no excuse, but this is the best right now. Next chapter will have some time skips. :')

I hope you enjoy it <3

Barbie's frown was so deep that, for a moment, she looked like a reflection of her father. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Blitz and Fizz could almost see the figurative steam coming out of her ears, and it would have been funny if it weren't for the unusually severe look on Tilla's face. 

"Not here, Barbie." Tilla opened the door to her room in a silent, urgent command that the three teenagers obeyed without protest. "I know you have valid questions, sweetheart, but you're going to think carefully about how you phrase them and who you’re actually angry at," Tilla said firmly after closing the door. 

Barbie inhaled and exhaled a few more times, making a visible effort not to explode at that moment. Meanwhile, Fizz had sat at the foot of the bed with his legs tucked to his chest, his tail tightly wrapped around himself as if it could protect him from some invisible danger. Blitz stood still, his tail nervously tapping the floor. 

"Come here, baby. Sit down, you haven't done anything wrong," Tilla insisted, hugging him by the shoulders and guiding him to sit on the bed. 

Barbie immediately sat beside him, wrapping her tail around Blitz's ankle. "Let me guess. This is Cash's fault," Barbie said acidly, tightening her tail around Blitz's ankle. Gone were the days when Cash had been a hero in Barbie's eyes, but the disappointment hadn't erased the wounds, or the pain associated to his name and everything he had been. Barbie couldn't be indifferent like Blitz. 

Tilla pulled up a chair and sat down, looking at her three children with a melancholic air. Her illness had limited her for most of her married life, and her husband... well, he'd shown her that his vows meant nothing and that only money and profit mattered. Cash had shown them all that. Tilla wasn't responsible for saving Cash's reputation in Barbie and Blitz's eyes, even if she felt some guilt about revealing certain truths—not for Cash's sake, but for theirs, because it was always painful to shatter her children's illusions. 

"That's right," she admitted. "Cash is responsible for the meeting between Blitz and the prince, but I'll also take part of the blame because, despite knowing what he was like, I still wanted to believe he was a better father than he was a husband." Tilla had been naive and trusting, and it was her children, mainly Blitz, who had paid the price for her complicity. 

"No, Momma, this isn't your fault. I..." 

"It's always the same!" Barbie burst out, her voice filled with anger and desperation. "Wherever we go, his damned shadow follows us. All the crap that haunts us is his crap—people he owes money to, people he tricked and scammed, people he stole from..." Barbie paused when she felt Blitz tense beside her. She slowly turned her head toward her twin, staring at him wide-eyed. "Blitz... tell me you didn't steal from that bird..." 

"T-That's impossible!" Fizz laughed nervously. "T-The prince wouldn't have reacted well, right? It must be something else!" 

Blitz hung his head and averted his gaze, but before Barbie could shake him and yell at him for being an idiot, Tilla cleared her throat and calmed things down again. 

"It's okay, Momma. I, well, I did steal from Stolas," Blitz sighed. He still wondered why Stolas had reacted so calmly, as if Blitz hadn't tricked him into robbing his palace years ago. 

"What?" 

"Blitz, what are the chances you'd run into the same blue blood you stole from? What the hell were you thinking!" 

"Barbie, let me remind you this wasn't your brother's fault, nor was it his decision," Tilla reprimanded her sharply. Barbie pressed her lips together and took another deep breath. "Apparently, King Paimon took his son to one of our shows as a birthday gift, and the prince enjoyed the clown act so much that the king arranged a playdate between Blitz and his son; a sort of meet and greet. At least, that's what Cash said to justify Blitz's absence. However, that wasn't what happened," Tilla paused, her expression hardening. She still felt enormous guilt for believing Cash. How had she been so naive? 

Fizz left his comfortable spot at the foot of the bed to sit on the other empty side next to Blitz. The three of them hugged each other for comfort, just as they had after the fire. Tilla watched them, and her heart lightened. At least she knew that no matter what happened, they would always have each other. That comforted her a little. 

"Cash sold Blitz," she finally said, because there was no way to soften her husband's actions to make them seem less cruel toward her son. Besides, pretending otherwise would be a disservice to her son. "And not only that, but he also told Blitz to steal whatever he could to buy my medicine." 

"It wasn't all bad," Blitz said quietly, relieved not to have to talk directly about what his father had done. Because he had sold him—Blitz, not his services. It wasn't uncommon for people to pay to have Fizz attend birthday parties to entertain or even private celebrations, but there were protocols, fees, and an adult who went to make sure Fizz was safe. Cash had sold him and abandoned him until Blitz had looted enough money and trinkets. 

"What?" 

"Stolas wasn't like the other blue bloods." Blitz rubbed his shoulder, unsure how to explain. Sure, he had only known him for a day, but they had fun together. Stolas had laughed with him, at his jokes—not at Blitz and his ideas. Stolas had listened to him, and for a prince, he hadn't had a bad time. "It was just one day, but we had fun together. He liked to read and play pirates, and he was..." adorable, Blitz thought, remembering the fluffy little ball of feathers Stolas had been as a child, but he couldn't say that. "Nice," he said finally, blushing slightly at the memory of his bold promise to hire him for his circus. 

Barbie frowned. 

"How did they let you go? Everyone knows how terrible the Goetia are," Fizz asked nervously. "How did they not bless you?" 

"And why wouldn't they? They're so disgustingly rich they probably didn't even notice a few trinkets!" Barbie growled. "And on top of buying you, he greeted you like that! Ugh! What a disgusting bird." 

"I doubt Stolas knew what his father did," Blitz replied seriously to his sister. He wasn't sure why he was defending Stolas, but it bothered him that Barbie was so critical of Stolas without even knowing him. "Besides, you don't know him to say those things." 

"Oh, and you do?" Barbie snapped. "Please, Blitz!" 

"King Paimon did notice the missing 'trinkets,'" Tilla said with a serious air. "After Blitz returned, a group of hellhounds came to take the stolen items back, and that's when Cash had to confess what he'd done. However, after they took the stolen goods, the items returned them to us a few hours later. This happened twice until finally, the king came himself to see what was going on. Through that pirate game, the prince had gifted Blitz that treasure, and since it belonged to the prince, it was a legitimate gift that couldn't be taken away." 

"But if that happened... why did we have to leave Pride? We never came back, not until now." Blitz's eyes widened in surprise. 

Tilla shook her head. "The king was furious anyway and decreed that we could never set foot in this ring again. But the company has dissolved, and the ban is no longer in effect." 

"What happened to that money?" Barbie asked, frowning. 

"Cash made it disappear. He did buy some medicines, but mostly…" Tilla sighed.

Cash hadn't always been a bad man. They had met as children in the circus; Tilla was the daughter of the seamstress and one of the animal caretakers, and Cash was the owner's son. The Buckzos came from a long line of circus tradition. They had spent long hours playing together, entertaining each other, and at some point, their childhood friendship had blossomed into a teenage romance. They married young, before they knew about Tilla's illness and all the consequences it would bring. The illness and the difficulties in having children had worn down their relationship—Cash had sought refuge in alcohol and the arms of other women, and Tilla had pretended not to notice anything. By the time Barbie and Blitz were finally born, little was left of the man Tilla had fallen in love with. 

"Fatherhood changes men, dear. You'll see, he'll be a good man again," Sweet Jayne, one of the trapeze artists, had told her once, and Tilla had been desperate enough to believe her. 

She never regretted having Barbie and Blitz or taking Fizz into her family, but now that she was older, more experienced, and no longer blinded by nostalgia, Tilla knew she shouldn't have stayed after the birth of her children. She knew she should have been firm and demanded that Cash stop drinking once the twins were old enough to be aware of the problems. 

But like everything, even regrets were no longer worth it. Cash had suffered a horrible death, and her children would forever carry the marks of that fire on their skin and in their memories. But at least they were alive, and Tilla had vowed that she would protect them at all costs. She would not fail them again.

“I hate him,” Barbie said. She sounded so small and hurt. She had loved her father once, and she might still love him, at least the good bits, the good memories of him. She had fond memories of her childhood, of Cash smiling at her and calling her his ‘star in the making’. She also remembers how Cash never had a single compliment for Blitz and, this time, her loyalty to her brother wins against her memories and nostalgia. “I’m sorry, Blitz... I'm sorry you went through that.”

“As I said, it wasn’t so bad,” Blitz repeated stubbornly. “I was scared of getting caught, but Stolas wasn’t bad. I had fun with him. I don’t want you or Fizz giving him shit for things he probably didn’t know about.”

“You don’t know that,” Fizz said kindly. He didn’t want to upset either Blitz or Barbie, but he agreed with Barbie’s sentiment. He didn’t want Blitz to get hurt, and royals were usually very bad news. “Royals aren’t the kindest of demons. He might just have been ‘nice’ because you went along with whatever he wanted.”

“That’s the point, Fizz. I didn’t go along with anything he wanted.” Blitz had always struggled with books. He didn’t find them interesting; they were hard to understand, full of shifting words and annoying, flowery speeches. He couldn’t see the pictures in his mind that everyone else could. They frustrated him. “He wanted to read, and I called him boring to his face. I proposed the pirate game, I was the ringleader, and he went along. He…” Blitz paused, unsure. He had never talked about Stolas with them, only with his mum, and barely, but the prince had lived rent free in his mind. He remembered his name, his looks, and his silly laughter because the prince had laughed at his jokes. “I don’t…”

Tilla grabbed Blitz’s hands and smiled at him in that way that meant she knew what he wanted to say. She had always known his heart. “Barbie, Fizz, my sweethearts, I know you want to protect Blitz. I understand this very well. But Blitz was the wronged party here, and he has the right to decide how he wants to approach the prince, or if he wants to do it, and I don’t want you to be upset with him. What do you want to do, baby?”

Barbie crossed her arms. “What if he chooses wrong?”

Blitz didn’t look at his sister. Any sane imp would avoid the royal they stole from, as Fizz said. But Stolas hadn’t looked upset at him. Stolas had greeted him by name—Stolas had remembered his name!—and they had sat together, as if an invincible force had pulled at him to sit by the prince. By all rights, Blitz should keep away from Stolas, but…but he wanted to talk to him again. He wanted to know what he had been up to. He wanted to see if he could still make him laugh.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “I’m fine talking to him. I mean, we’ll be here for a few days. It’ll be awkward if we just ignore him. Besides…he’s really no bad.”

Barbie narrowed her eyes and pressed her mouth in a tight line, ready to argue. However, one glance from Tilla had her sighing. “We’ll be practising for that ceremony thing anyways. It’s not like we’ll have time to spend with the bird.”

Fizz agreed. “Probably we won’t see him after today.”

Blitz didn’t know why that made him so…sad.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Charlie felt…giddy. Hopeful. She had worried over the years about Stolas’ isolation. Charlie herself had grown in isolation with few demons around her age and even fewer who shared her way of seeing life in Hell. She was… soft. Naïve. Royals often said it behind her back, grinning condescendingly to her face. Charlie didn’t consider herself a naïve person. She knew the work behind the task she was undertaking, she understood there would be risks, but she was inspired, and she wanted to believe and smile in the face of adversity, like her father had taught her with his example.

She had grown isolated and sheltered. She understood loneliness pretty well. “Oh, huh, Stolas, how did you meet that boy?” she asked in high-pitch voice, unable to contain the excitement off her voice. She was so glad to see that he had a friend, someone he genuinely liked.

Stolas took his eyes off the road. He rarely used cars as a means of transportation, not since he learned how to portal everywhere. “Blitz? Oh, we are childhood friends,” he smiled and his cheeks pinkened.

“Really?” Vaggie asked. She hadn’t got that impression talking with the boy’s mother, but maybe she hadn’t known the face behind Stolas’ name. Lucifer had taken time to figure out ‘Vaggie’ was a sinner and not some random demon, although that was more due to his lack of interaction with Charlie than any effort on Charlie’s part.

“Yes! We met as kids,” Stolas laughed shyly. He felt happy. Extremely so. Not only he had got to spend the day with Charlie and away from Stella, but now he had also met Blitz again. They hadn’t seen each other in so long! “It was on my tenth birthday. My father took me to his circus, and we got to play the following day.”

“That’s amazing!” Charlie squealed. “Did you invite him over? Did you have playdates often? Oh, my! Did we make a good impression? What does he like to eat? We could coordinate…”

“Babe, breathe,” Vaggie reminded her with a smirk. “You’re overwhelming him.”

Stolas did look overwhelmed. He often did when Charlie got excited. “Sorry. I’m just happy to meet his friend.”

Vaggie hummed. She had the impression Charlie would be disappointed. Paimon didn’t look like the type of father who cared about his sons socialisation with other kids. Although she was surprised he had allowed the prince to play with an imp with how classist the Ars Goetia tended to behave towards the lower hellborns.

Stolas looked away as he played with his talons in a nervous tic; his expression bashful gave away more than his words would ever give. Stolas wasn’t deceitful, although he could be naïve.

“We… it was complicated. You see, Blitz’s circus was very popular, and he travelled across the seven rings. I asked father to visit his circus, or to hire them for my birthdays again, but it wasn’t…possible. I sent him letters and a few gifts over the years. He was just…busy, I think. I mean, he must have been, if he never replied, right? But I still consider him a dearest friend.”

“Oh, Stolas…” Charlie swallowed hard. She didn’t have the heart to break his bubble. “Y-yes, he must have been very busy, right Vaggie?” she looked up at her girlfriend, expression worried and desperate.

Vaggie hated when she was right. And she was right often. She would bet an arm that those letters and gifts never made it to the imp. A common imp circus—even one that was popular and very successful—couldn’t have afforded to reject an invitation from an Ars Goetia, much less one of its nine kings. Paimon wouldn’t have taken kindly to that insult.

“I think…” I think you’re only friends in your mind, kiddo, would have been the right answer. It would have saved Stolas pain in the long run. But Vaggie couldn’t bring herself to crush the prince’s illusion. “...you could use this as an opportunity to reconnect. Circus travel a lot and there is a chance that he may not have received your letters,” she said as kindly as she could.

“Vaggie!” Charlie said, shaking her head.

Vaggie answered with a look. She understood Charlie’s desire to keep Stolas from knowing that her father very likely had prevented him from seeing that friend of his, but letting Stolas approach the other boy under the assumption that they were besties would be a disaster.

“He might not…” Stolas turned back to see Vaggie, his small pupils coming to life. His expression was surprised, as if he had never thought of that possibility. “Oh, that’s… I think, it is possible…” he said in a soft, pensive voice. “It would make sense that he never wrote back if he didn’t receive my letters.”

Vaggie nodded. “He wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Huh, should I not talk to him then?” Stolas asked. “I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable with me.”

“You should totally speak to him,” Charlie said. “As Vaggie said, use the opportunity to reconnect. Talk to him, ask him what he likes. Oh, we’ll use the movie marathon to help you, Stolas!”

“Give him space too,” Vaggie said. “Not everyone is used to interact with royals.”

“But be friendly!”

“Oh, huh, okay. Friendly, but giving him space,” he nodded like the good student he always was.

They spent the rest of the trip to the market and a good part of their shopping talking about integration activities they could do to make the teens interact. Stolas remembered that Blitz liked physical games and not so much reading, so Vaggie suggested a few physical training exercises while Charlie laughed nervously.

“They’re performers, they probably have a good condition. And Stolas could do with core strengthen exercises for his magical endurance, right?”

“That’s not how magic works…” Stolas mumbled, carrying one of the baskets with veggies.

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’, so exercise! Running a few kilometres has never hurt anyone!”

Stolas and Charlie looked at each other with nervous agreement. How hard could it be?

-.-.-.-.-.-

Upon returning from the market, Charlie and Vaggie started preparing dinner. They planned to make something to plate and move around so they could play board games in the main lounge without worrying about spilling food everywhere. Vaggie suggested to do Discada, a dish consisting of different types of meat and some veggies, and they tasked Stolas with chopping the various kinds of meat they had bought and getting down some pots and plates from the cupboards. Once the prince was done, Vaggie suggested he took a walk around the hotel, or maybe visit the library.

"Are you sure? I could stay and help..." 

"Very sure," Vaggie said without taking her eyes off Charlie.

"All right," Stolas agreed and wandered around the hotel, not quite knowing what to do.

He strolled aimlessly, letting his feet guide him until he found himself back in the garden. He followed the stone path and sat in front of one of the areas he had cleaned earlier that morning, gazing at it thoughtfully. He would have to ask Charlie and Vaggie later if they had a specific design in mind for the garden. Did they want it to be a place of relaxation? There was enough space to add a pond with fish from Envy, there were some who could even be used for massages. Or he could even create different biomes for each ring and divide the garden into sections. A project like that would be fun and would give him a good reason to leave the palace...

Stolas turned his head when he heard a noise behind him. "Blitz?" he asked curiously, in a low voice. He hadn't expected to see the imp there, certainly not before dinner. Suddenly, he felt nervous, remembering Vaggie's words during the car ride. How was he supposed to behave? He wanted to be friendly, but he didn’t want to scare him off. Should he stand and greet him properly? Should he stay on the floor? Should he…

"Huh, hey," Blitz said, staying at the edge of the garden but eyeing the place critically.

Blitz was rubbing his neck and giving him an awkward smile, as if he didn't know what to do either. The imp had grown in the eight years since they had last seen each other. His horns were enormous, bigger than any other imp Stolas had ever seen. He was also quite tall, much taller than Mr. Butler or the palace staff members. Were all imps this tall outside the palace?

Blitz was dressed in a black top and a choker, along with electric blue pants. The blue and gold eyeshadow he wore suited him well. Blitz looked stunning. He was so handsome! The simple thought surprised Stolas, who got even more nervous.

"What the hell happened here? It looks worse than summer in Wrath during tornado season."

The words helped relaxing Stolas a bit, who couldn't help but laugh. "You should have seen it when I got here."

"Ha! Don’t tell me it was worse, that’s impossible." Blitz finally stepped into the garden and leaned against a pillar, observing Stolas closely. The prince was sitting on the ground like an ordinary person, and Blitz was almost his height.

"Just a little worse," Stolas chuckled softly, the sound more like an owl’s hoot than a laugh. "We spent part of the day working on the garden, clearing out the weeds. Her Highness wants to bring plants from all the rings for her guests... I hope she lets me design her garden."

Blitz nodded. It was... easy to talk to Stolas. He had expected it to be hard after almost a decade without seeing each other, especially with the whole 'robbery that wasn't really a robbery, but still kind of a robbery' incident. But here was that little ball of feathers, now grown into sleek legs with darker plumage, yet the same heart-shaped face and innocent eyes. He still had that hooting laugh and still covered his beak when he laughed. He didn’t seem to have changed much.

‘At least he still laughs with me,’ Blitz thought. He wasn’t sure why that mattered, but it made his chest feel warm. "Huh, yeah, well, I’m sure she will. You liked plants, right? At least I remember you had lots of books about them," Blitz shrugged.

Stolas’ eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed. He was a little flustered, and perhaps inappropriately so, but his heart started beating faster. Did Blitz remember about his books? Did Blitz remember that afternoon they played games in the palace? It seemed impossible that it would even matter to him, but... it made Stolas quite happy for some reason. It gave him hope that hey were actually friends and not just acquaintances.

"Her Highness can ask anyone to decorate her garden, and it would be an honour," Stolas said, a bit embarrassed. While plants were one of his domains, his expertise was more about their properties for rituals rather than their general aesthetic value. "Surely, there are many more experienced demons to help with this task, but... I’d like to do it for her. Her Highness is always very kind to me."

Blitz noticed how Stolas hadn’t used the princess’ name even once. The sinner had said he normally didn’t at court, but they were inside her hotel, weren’t they? He filed the thought for later.

“She’ll probably do it if y’ask. I remember you had quite a collection, right? It has to count for something,” he shrugged again.

“Thank you, Blitz,” Stolas said honestly.

“So, huh, what’s the deal? I mean… it’s a funny coincidence to see you here.”

Stolas smiled at him with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was less wide than when they had been kids, but there was enough resemblance for Blitz to picture a younger, fluffier, prince. Probably what had changed the most was his aesthetics. Stolas was dressed all in black, but his eyeliner was on point.

“It is,” Stolas agreed. “My father is helping the princess, and he often volunteers my help. Her Highness loves musicals, and father has…little patience for that. What about you? What have you been up to, Blitz? Do you have your office now?”

Did Stolas remember that? Why? Fizz didn’t even remember Blitz’s idea of having an office for a circus. It had been a stupid idea, yet here was Stolas remembering that.

“No. It was a stupid idea. An office for a circus,” he laughed and watched Stolas flinch. “I mean, I still want an office, but probably will work on something else. I’m figuring stuff out.”

“I see,” Stolas nodded. “That is important.”

“Yeah. Right now, we’re just here on business. Fizz got booked to entertain some royals and Barb and I are tagging along. We even got to present a smaller show,” he grinned.

“Really?” Stolas perked up immediately. “I haven’t seen you act since forever! I asked father several times to take me to the circus but… well, he seemed to be busy every time. And you didn’t come back to Pride, I often asked when I had the chance.”

If Blitz had been sure Stolas hadn’t known about his father deal’s with Cash, this exchange confirmed it. The owl was too expressive to be deceitful, or he was a damned good actor.

“Yeah, about that, it was… well, we couldn’t come back. In a manner of speaking. I guess.”

“I see. I wish I could have visited. I wanted… hum,” Stolas gave him a bittersweet smile, hugging his ridiculously long legs to his chest. “Vaggie insinuated I shouldn’t say this because it might be overwhelming, but… I used to write you letters. I wanted to see you again. I asked my father to take me, or let Mr Butler take me, or to invite you over for my birthdays, but he never allowed it, so I wrote to you instead. I used to add drawings or other things, things I liked, and things I hoped you would like… It was silly, right? You probably never received any of that.”

What was Blitz supposed to say to something like that? How was Blitz supposed to react? Was there any appropriate reaction to that kind of revelation? Blitzo felt overwhelmed, completely unable to say anything coherent or even crack a joke to lighten the weight of the prince’s words. Had Stolas written him letters? Had he wanted to stay in touch with him… with an imp? Had he sent him gifts? Why?

“You don’t have to say anything, Blitz. I understand this is all very sudden for you. I just… I just wanted you to know that it made me really happy to reconnect with you and to see that you remembered my name.”

Blitz swallowed hard. Of course, he remembered his name! How could he forget something like that? It wasn’t like an imp meeting a prince and being invited to the palace to play with him was something that happened every day. What was surprising was that Stolas remembered him.

“I… really don’t know what to say,” Blitz rubbed his neck, fiddling with his choker. “I mean, we only played together once when we were kids, Stolas.”

“Maybe, but… you were important to me, Blitz,” Stolas said seriously. “I don’t have many friends, unless you count my plants, so… that day, it was my birthday, you know? When we met at the circus. It was very special that you came to play with me. It made me very happy and less…lonely. And I understand that well, it probably didn’t mean the same to you, you’re probably used to meeting lots of people all the time,” he laughed nervously, fiddling with his fingers to calm himself. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like for us to keep in touch if possible, for the opportunity to talk to you again. If you want.”

Blitz swallowed quietly. Him, used to meeting lots of people? Did Stolas really think that Blitz was the popular one between him and Fizz? Ha! What a joke. But the prince seemed sincere, and as he had told his sister a few hours earlier, Stolas wasn’t like the other nobles. Stolas was… kind, with a peculiar little laugh.

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

He expected an offended look or something to show him that those eight years had changed the little ball of feathers he had known as a child, but instead, he was met with a resigned face.

“Ah, I… well, it was just an idea. Of course, you don’t have to. I mean, you’re probably a busy person. It’s, uh, probably best to go see if Her Highness needs something…” and Stolas quickly stood up, trying to escape the garden, which suddenly felt as oppressive as any other Royal Hall.

Blitz cursed under his breath. What the hell?

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say I didn’t want to talk to you!” he shouted as he stopped Stolas with his tail. “I was just making sure you were serious. I mean, it doesn’t make much sense for you to want to befriend the guy who robbed you, right?”

Stolas tilted his head like an owl—creepy!—and looked at Blitz as if he didn’t understand what he meant. “What are you talking about, Blitz?”

“The pirate game? All the stuff I stole?”

Stolas shrugged. “We were kids playing pirates. I don’t really care that you took those things.”

“Didn’t your dad scold or punish you for it?”

Stolas shook his head. “I don’t think he even noticed, honestly.”

Blitz rubbed his temple and let go of the prince. Stolas was definitely not a good actor, so he must have been telling the truth. Well…

“Well… if you’re serious, then, I guess we could talk. My sister and Fizz probably won’t wake up for another hour or so. If you don’t have anything to do…”

Blitz didn’t expect Stolas to sit back down, watching him attentively, so he couldn’t help but laugh.

They spent a good while talking, like they were just two regular teenagers. Or like they had been lifelong friends. There were no pirate games to play, but Stolas still laughed at his jokes, covering his beak as he did so, and his eyes watched Blitz like he was the main actor in a show. Blitz still thought plants were boring, but he listened to the prince’s little stories about his carnivorous plants, widening his eyes with interest at the tales about the human world.

That’s how Tilla and Charlie found them a couple of hours later, laughing like children in what would one day become a beautiful garden.