Chapter Text
Blitzø
Crimson claws dragged over rows and rows of neatly drawn numbers, most etched with red ink that looked hostile even in Moxxie’s benign, bubbly handwriting. Blitzø never had a head for figures, or letters for that matter, but even he could suss out the truth in these pages...
They were fucked.
They were so very fucked and it wasn’t fucking fair. After the fire everything seemed hopeless, but they hadn’t given up. Through countless long days and even longer nights, Blitzø and Barbie had rebuilt every tentpole and highwire with their bare hands. Satan knows Cash was no help, but the twins had channeled their grief into stubborn determination. The circus wouldn’t travel any more, they decided. Two and a half decades later, the big top was now a permanent fixture on the outskirts of Imp City’s slums, just close enough to where the well-to-do’s lived that they could dip their toe in without dirtying their hands. Back then Blitzø had such big ideas; spectacular, dizzying acts that just weren’t possible when they struck their tents every few weeks. Hellhorses and death-defying stunts, acrobatics so complex that it left the audience in awe.
And now he was failing all of them. Millie and Sallie May, Moxxie, Loona... Barbie. His family. The people who trusted him to make his big, foolish ideas a reality simply because he said he would.
Barbie had always been the smart one, so much sharper than her thick-headed brother. She could have left this place, gotten a cushy job in one of those fancy houses as a ladies’ maid or maybe even work in a shop. It wasn’t much but it was the best most imps could hope for and at least she’d know for sure where her next meal was coming from.
But she stayed at his side instead. Even if it was all his fault. The fire. The circus. This stupid plan of theirs that was blowing up right in his face one overdue bill and unpaid wage at a time.
When Cash’s liver had finally given out a few years back there wasn’t a single tear shed between the two of them. They simply buried him in a plain pine box next to Mama with no ceremony, and in Blitzø’s opinion he was lucky he got that much consideration. He’d just as soon have tossed the bastard in the river and taken the fine for littering.
Finally, Blitzø had thought. Finally he could make his dreams reality, finally he could make the circus everything it had ever wanted without Cash slurring in his ear that he wasn’t good enough, that his crazy dreams were just that. And for a brief, shining moment it seemed possible.
Then the debts had started rolling in. The twins finally got a look at the books and it was so much worse than they’d ever thought. For every dime that came into the ticket booth, Cash had pocketed nine cents and between gambling, booze, and whores he’d spent it all and then some, leaving Blitzø and Barbie saddled with repayment.
Fizz helped where he could, but it wasn’t his problem. The circus had taken enough from him; Blitzø had taken enough from him. He was overdue some good fortune and when it came in the form of Mammon’s offer, Blitzø couldn’t begrudge him leaving. New limbs, magically agile and spectacular to behold, and a new solo act that had him performing in the best venues across the Seven Rings— those things were only made possible with the Sin of Greed’s patronage. Blitzø couldn’t stand the fucker, but he’d dig himself a hole right next to Cash before he got in the way of Fizz’s happiness again.
So here he was, a thirty-four year old imp with an adult daughter, sore joints, and few prospects, desperately trying to figure out how to make all of those little red numbers turn black.
“Blitzo?”
He lifted his head from his hands immediately. Barbie was the only one still allowed to call him that, and she only did so in private. Every time his name spilled from her lips it was bittersweet; she sounded so much like Mama.
“Yeah, sorry Barb. I’m coming.” He dragged his hands over his horns, sharp claws clacking against their buffed surface. “How’s the crowd tonight?”
“Eh, about the same as usual.” Barbie leaned against the doorframe of his office. His office. Seeing his name on that door had meant so much to him, as silly as it was. He couldn’t believe that he might have to give that up. “Buuuut we have a VIP.”
“Huh?”
“A Goetia.”
“Really? Haven’t had one of them in a while.”
“Looks like he’s here slumming it with his kid. At least I hope it’s his kid. Dumbass even paid double,” Barbie snorted.
“Is it one of the regulars from before?” Once upon a time Hell’s elite had flocked to their little circus, but between the picture shows and jazz clubs and all of the nightlife that the Sinner’s had brought with them, one didn’t even need to travel down to Lust for a risque time anymore. And how could some tumbling imps compete with the bright lights of nearby Pentagram City?
“No clue. You know they all look the same to me.” Barbie shrugged, pushing herself up off of the doorframe. Her costume jangled when she moved, a pleasant tinkling that Blitzø associated with her and Fizz and better times. “Made sure he got the best seat in the house and told the team to put their backs into it tonight.” Blitzø bristled at that; his performers always gave it their all, even if the stands were empty.
“Well, we better not keep the royal fucker waiting then.” Blitzø stood up and plucked his top hat from the hook behind his chair, settling it between his horns and snagging his baton with a little twirl. His chest puffed out just a bit, his smile stretching just a little wider. He truly loved this: performing, entertaining, making people smile. He would miss it more than he could put into words. “Let’s go put on a show.”
Stolas
“But Via, dear. You loved the circus when you were a girl,” Stolas pouted, taking in his daughter’s rounded shoulders and folded arms and realizing that once again he’d failed utterly to bridge the ever widening gap between them.
Things had been so much simpler when she was little. His little Starfire was his whole world, and when she was a child he had been hers. They’d spent hours playing amongst the stars and reading tales of adventure. Their days were filled with music and magic and Stolas had found something approaching true happiness in spite of all that his life had become.
But as the years ticked by and she inched closer to womanhood things changed. She didn’t have as much time for her old man and he couldn’t begrudge her that. Lucifer, the last thing he wanted for her was a fate like his, stuck in the palace all day and night. Miserable. Lonely. Defeated.
No, he didn’t just want her to read of adventure. He wanted her to live it! He was so proud of her for the way she met every tradition and expectation of her station with defiance. He supposed that he had to commend Stella for giving Via one thing, because she certainly didn’t inherit that strong backbone from him.
Still, was it so selfish to miss their bond?
A hamfisted attempt to hold onto those wonderful years of her youth had brought them here tonight, back to the circus he used to sneak off to with her when Stella was swept away by her bustling social calendar. It had been their little secret, sharing a spark of joy from his childhood with his daughter and watching her eyes widen in wonder just like his had done all those years ago when a little imp boy had shown him what life could be without the shackles of duty. He had been devastated when he heard that the circus had burnt down, truly, but he had quickly put it out of his mind, consumed with the seemingly endless tasks of parenthood. It wasn’t until recently that he even realized that it had been rebuilt.
“I’m not five anymore, dad.” Via slumped lower in her seat, her cerise, star-dotted dress snagging on the rough-hewn bench. Stolas winced, knowing that he would need to smuggle it downstairs to the laundress himself lest Stella see it and blame him. Again.
“I know that, sweetheart.” Stolas sighed, sweeping back his crest anxiously. “I just thought that perhaps—”
The lamps were snuffed abruptly, bathing the tent in darkness. Via squawked in alarm but Stolas’ pulse thrummed with excitement. He loved this moment: the deep, bated breath before the splendor began. It had been so many years since he’d allowed himself this indulgence but still he could remember every detail. Soon the gruff, old ringleader would stumble beneath a single spotlight and kick off the festivities. How exciting!
That very spotlight illuminated a small circle of hard packed sand and the audience, smaller than Stolas recalled, fell silent. The red-tipped toe of a polished boot stepped into the light and a body smoothly followed, baton twirling and coming to a stop with a sharp stab into the sand. Leaning against it in an exaggerated, languid pose was not the ringmaster Stolas remembered.
He was quite simply the most beautiful imp Stolas had ever seen. His body was lean and strong beneath his red and gold tailed coat and his face was striking, one half chalk white and the other gleaming crimson scales that caught the light beautifully. His smile was dangerous, lopsided and rakish, and he had a gloriously impressive set of horns. Even with all that to feast on, it was his eyes that made Stolas’ breath catch in his throat. Big, luminous, expressive, and so very familiar.
“Blitzo,” he breathed.
“Huh?” Via looked up at him, her expression utterly devoid of interest but inquiring all the same.
“Oh, um, nothing.” Stolas patted her hand, trying not to take it personally when she curled further in on herself. He could remember how it felt to be seventeen, though as he had been watching over an unhatched egg and enduring the early days of marriage he hadn’t had the luxury of Via’s petulant behavior. He allowed himself to take some pride in that. If she was free enough to be a bit of a brat, then he had clearly done something right. “Just watch the show, dear.”
And what a show it was. Blitzo was a delight, his off-color quips pitched perfectly to make the adults in the audience blush while the children were none the wiser. Stolas’ eyes were glued to him as he danced and skittered about the rings, announcing act after act. The strong-women sisters’ act was earnestly shocking, both lovely imp ladies playfully competing until it devolved into a brutal wrestling match that left the sand stained black. The little white-haired imp’s knife throwing was equally impressive and the finale of Blitzo and a female imp tumbling in perfect sync had Stolas on his feet, clapping enthusiastically and hooting little giggles like he was a fluffy little owlet once more.
Pity that Via didn’t seem to be quite as spellbound.
“Great, it’s over. Can we go now?”
“Oh.” Stolas’ face fell and he glanced back down to the center ring, desperate to catch the eye of his first ever friend. “Yes, of course dear. Come, how about we go to the museum?”
“The one with the weird taxidermy?” Via’s eyes lit up and Stolas’ melancholy was chased away. He turned from the sparkling memories of a birthday he could never forget and smiled warmly down at his daughter, putting a hand to her back as he conjured a portal to take them back to their lives, leaving Blitzo to his.
Chapter 2
Summary:
Stolas and Blitzø make a deal.
Chapter Text
Blitzø
The Goetia in the audience had been Stolas, no doubt about it. How many four-eyed owl demons could there be out there, anyway? Besides, even if he didn’t recognize the Prince’s face, he would’ve known him in an instant by his laugh.
It hadn’t changed a bit in twenty-five years. Imagine that.
That laugh had haunted him for a week, flooding Blitzø with memories of that strange, surreal day when he got a glimpse of how the truly elite lived. He remembered that Stolas’ palace was overwhelming. Every surface gleamed and the trappings of wealth were everywhere, shiny baubles just begging to be plucked.
And he had, because Cash said so.
In the months that followed the bird Prince’s birthday Blitzø had lived in fear, waiting for someone to come and carry him off for the horrible crime of stealing from someone too oblivious to even realize that he was doing it. Eventually, when no one had showed up to the circus demanding his head on a spike, Blitzø had been able to relax and over the years whenever he thought of that day his mind drifted to the more pleasant parts. Of swinging from the branch of a tree and sharing his dreams with someone who didn’t laugh at him. Of twirling beneath a swirl of crystals until they got dizzy and collapsed in a heap of laughter. Of the tight hug Stolas gave him when it was time to go, lingering just a little too long like the other boy, too sweet and sensitive for his own good, couldn’t stand to see him go. Like he wasn’t a burden. Like he would be missed.
Then the bird had shown up at his circus, right when Blitzø was starting to unravel, with the means to save it. The means to save it all.
Blitzø didn’t really believe in luck, but he was starting to.
Prince Stolas had money and magic to spare, and Blitzø only needed a tiny bit of it. The thought of simply stealing it had crossed his mind —it had been so easy last time, after all— but if his head did roll, it wasn’t just him who would suffer this time. He had people that counted on him, the same people that he was trying to save with this gambit.
So okay, theft and grift weren’t an option. Charm, however? Surely no one could hold it against him if he greased the wheels with a few well placed smiles, could they? It wasn’t like he was going to fuck the bird for it, not that he was above that. Best to keep that option in his back pocket, just in case.
Blitzø waited outside the restaurant, leaning against the wall in the shadows where no one would shoo the imp away. It was a chilly evening by Pride’s standards and he shivered a little in his best shirt and trousers, suspenders holding them up and highlighting the broad lines of his chest and shoulders and his slim waist. He’d been following Stolas all day waiting for his moment, trailing behind the Prince to a book shop, a tea house, and an art gallery. It was the most boring day of his life but finally Stolas had stopped to eat and Blitzø found his opening. Easy enough to arrange a coincidental run-in on the sidewalk and what was more natural than an after-dinner drink to catch up with an old friend?
His eyes flicked up to the glitzy sign and covertly peered through the window to the dimly lit dining room. Fuck this place was fancy— the kind of place that even most rich fucks would save for special occasions. And Stolas was eating here alone and reading, the unimaginable nerd. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the fluffy little dork in a pile of books, excitedly babbling one mind-numbingly dull factoid after another. The Prince was seated at the nicest, biggest table in the joint all by himself with the dusty-looking book in one hand and his wine glass in the other. Blitzø’s nose wrinkled involuntarily when the platter of skewered rodents were delivered by the bowing, tuxedo-clad imp waiter, and watched Stolas’ gracious but distracted smile. He waved off the waiter with a limp wrist and Blitzø frowned as ice sluiced down his spine, snapping him back to reality.
No fuckin’ way was that going to be him. Not ever.
He was going to save his business, whatever it took.
The whistling was probably too much but Blitzø was a showman; subtlety wasn’t in his repertoire. He feigned looking over his shoulder just as Stolas left the restaurant, slamming right into the side of the bird’s thigh.
“Hey! Watch where you’re—”
“Pardon me, I didn’t see—”
“Stolas?!”
“Blitzo?!”
Perfect.
Blitzø stood on the stool rather than sitting and tapped the bartop, winking at the familiar incubus behind the bar as he filled two glasses and slid them their way. “To old friends!” he said jovially, clinking his glass against Stolas’ before the owl had even picked it up. He scrambled to do so, propriety dictating that he drink immediately, which was exactly the plan. The looser Stolas was, the more likely he was to agree to this hairbrained scheme.
“Old friends, indeed,” Stolas hummed after swallowing a sip. Blitzø feigned drinking his, wanting to stay sharp. “So, over two decades since I last saw you.”
“Sheesh, has it been that long?” Blitzø rubbed the back of his head, claws slotting between his spikes. “I guess we got a lotta catching up to do. Was that your kid I saw at the show the other night?”
“Oh, you saw me?” Stolas blinked rapidly, the red glow his eyes cast on his feathers seeming to brighten just a bit. Blitzø remembered that when they were kids he’d mistaken the effect for a blush. “Y-yes. Yes, that was Octavia, my daughter. She’s seventeen.”
Wait, weren’t Stolas and Blitzø basically the same age? He was pretty sure it was the bird’s eleventh birthday which meant... “Seventeen? Shit Stols, you must’ve been a baby. Knock up your high school sweetheart or something?”
“Mmm not quite.” Stolas’ eyes dropped to his glass. “An arranged marriage.”
Blitzø knew that he should change the subject. Sad Stolas wasn’t part of the plan, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Is that like normal for you people?”
He hummed again, more acknowledgment than agreement.
“And you’re still married?” Blitzø pressed, looking for a ring and finding none. He ignored the little twinge in his chest. The bird was a looker and it had been a dry year, alright? He always did like ‘em tall and leggy.
Stolas, for his part, looked scandalized. Right, because divorce would be a whole thing for royalty. “Of course I am!”
“And you’re... happy?” He didn’t even know where the question came from, only that he was suddenly very interested in the answer. Because Stolas did not look happy. He looked tired and... sad. It wasn’t a good look on him. Blitzø much preferred the hooting giggles and smiles he’d seen at the circus.
“Ah.” Stolas swirled the liquid around in his glass before taking another sip. “Well, isn’t that a loaded question?”
“I mean, not really.” Blitzø picked up his own glass and took a drink, forgetting his plan altogether for the moment. “It’s kind of a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ thing.”
“Maybe for you.” Stolas’ smile was still morose, but it was a start. Any smile at all felt like a step in the right direction. “Via makes me happy.”
Blitzø opened his mouth, searching for the right words to say that he understood. He’d found Loona just after Cash’s death, when the weight of the responsibility he’d inherited had just begun to settle onto his shoulders. She was rain-sodden and filthy, living on the streets, and even though Blitzø didn’t even know how he was going to take care of himself anymore, he’d offered her a blanket and a cot.
It was the best decision of his life. Loona was the reason he got out of bed most mornings and he could never in a million years repay her for that, but he’d never stop fuckin’ trying.
Stolas startled him out of his thoughts by continuing. “I used to bring Via to the circus when she was a girl. Before the- before she became interested in other things. I thought it would be nice to experience that together again.”
“And was it?”
“It was lovely, Blitzø.” Something in Stolas’ eyes as he sighed, one elbow perched on the top of the bar, made Blitzø actually believe him. “Truly. You have something very special there, with your little show.”
A growl slipped free without Blitzø’s consent. “Little?”
“Apologies, I only meant—” Stolas was stammering, eyes wide, and that was all the evidence Blitzø needed to know that the bird hadn’t been trying to take a dig. In fact, maybe this was just the opportunity he was looking for...
“Nah, you’re right. It is little.” Blitzø sipped again, twisting to fully face Stolas and widening his eyes hopefully. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be.”
“Oh?”
“I have... ideas. Big ones.”
“So what’s stopping you? I never imagined that you were the sort to let anything hold you back.” Stolas’ teasing smile made Blitzø’s guts squirm and unholy Hell, he needed to get laid if a little bit of flirtation had him chomping the bit like this.
“Heh, well yeah sure. Nothing could stand in my way, ‘cept maybe a loan officer that won’t lend to imps.” He scoffed softly, playing up his disappointment. It was disappointing, obviously, but not unexpected.
Something shuttered in Stolas’ eyes and Blitzø felt panic clench around his lungs. “I see...”
“Do you?”
“This is why you asked me to join you for a drink, then?”
“I mean, I asked you out to catch up.” Blitzø didn’t think too hard about his choice of words, scrambling to regain control of the situation. “But like you said: I ain’t the sort to let anything hold me back. Can you blame me for asking?” He flashed his most dashing smile, only the tension in his brows betraying his nerves.
Stolas stared at him for a long, excruciating moment. He opened his throat and tossed back the entirety of his drink before motioning for the barman to refill it. He coughed softly and said, quite flippantly: “You haven’t.”
“Huh?”
“You haven’t actually asked. So go on then.” Stolas gestured towards Blitzø, the corner of his mouth sloping upwards ever so slightly. “Ask me. Convince me.”
Stolas
The gas lamps made the swirling dust motes between them glow in a dreamy haze of gold. It was like being suspended in the warmth of Blitzø’s eyes, alight with mischief and promise and escape .
He pulled his gaze from the imp abruptly, turning as Blitzø rambled on, undeterred, his glittering dreams tumbling from his lips in a rush and with them the promise that Stolas could somehow share in the fantasy. Stolas looked down at the glass in his hand, his head already pleasantly fuzzy from the flask he’d emptied on the way here and the wine at dinner. His face, reflected in the amber liquid, was as familiar and discouraging as ever. The corners of his eyes downturned, his lids heavy with the weight of so many years. How sad and sullen must he look to Blitzø? How far removed from the plump, giggling owlet that he’d once briefly known?
Blitzø’s voice was at once brash and hypnotic, perfectly pitched and metered like there was no distinction between conversation and oration. Like he was beckoning Stolas across the peanut shell and sawdust covered floor and into the center ring, pulling him by the wrist into his world. He half expected the wood paneled walls of the quaint little bar to fall away and reveal that they had been under the big top all along.
Stolas jolted with a soft cheep when Blitzø’s boots slapped the tile, turning swiftly to see that he’d jumped down from the barstool and was now using it as an armrest. His slow, confident smile warmed the owl’s faceplate, his flush creeping further down his neck unseen and settling in his chest. Blitzø’s offer hung in the air between them like a tangible thing in that lamplight glow but for all the world Blitzø looked as though he’d already won.
And hadn’t he? Would Stolas even still be here if he didn’t yearn to say yes?
Rather than run from the obvious trap, Stolas found himself right back on that splintered wooden bench from all those years ago, his face alight with true wonder for the first time in his brief, sheltered life. He watched the spellbinding boy tumble through the air weightlessly, landing with poise and confidence that no amount of scolding and training and practicing could ever instill in Stolas himself. He watched those same lustrous eyes land on him, face splitting into a knowing grin as he entertained an audience of one in spite of the crowd.
Just who was Stolas kidding here? Certainly not the shrewd showman that was gazing up at him expectantly. Not even, for once, himself.
He took a deep, tremulous breath. His cravat was suddenly far too tight and his palms itched as an electric kind of giddiness crept through his restless limbs. He was doing this.
They were doing this.
It was going to be a bloody great show.
“I must confess, I’m intrigued.” Stolas pulled his shoulders back and looked down at Blitzø over the rim of his glass, doing everything in his power not to tip his hand too early. “But not as a lender. I’ve no interest in giving you a loan.”
Blitzø’s big, expressive eyes blinked furiously, as if clearing away a fog. “No?”
“No.” Stolas sat down his glass and clasped his hands in front of him, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “If you wish my assistance, then I want to be a partner.”
“Now hold on just a second—”
Stolas held up a hand, cutting off Blitzø’s protesting and finger-wagging. “I’m not asking for equal stakes, nor equal say. I only ask for a percentage, and for the opportunity to peek behind the curtain as it were.”
“Huh.” Blitzø’s eyes swept over him, narrowing as he scrutinized every bit of Stolas’ body language in search of something— likely proof of deceit. He found none, of course, because there was nothing in that moment that Stolas wanted more than for him to say ‘yes’. “Alright, birdie. I think I can swing seven percent. How’s about we shake on it?”
Stolas had been taught to never take an opening offer and he didn’t intend to start off this new partnership with Blitzø thinking him nothing more than a bumbling rube. “Darling, I’m not quite as gullible as I look. Eighteen would be more appropriate, no?”
“Pfft, why not just ask for the whole thing and my kidney while we’re at it?” Blitzø’s sharp smile betrayed his enjoyment and Stolas couldn’t help but smile back.
Blitzø
“Fifteen percent,” Stolas said crisply, countering Blitzø’s retort with cool confidence and a wry smile. It looked good on him. Real good.
Blitzø sighed with an exaggerated slump of his shoulders. “I can do eight.”
“Twelve.”
“Nine.”
“Ten.” The firmness in Stolas’ voice invited no further haggling but that was just fine with Blitzø. He would have accepted just about any figure, knowing that Stolas would only see a return on his investment if his little gamble worked and if it worked who the fuck cared how much of a cut the bird took? Blitzø would be able to keep a tent over his and his family’s heads and that was all that mattered.
He would prove Cash wrong. That was worth a lot more than ten fuckin’ percent.
The corner of Blitzø’s mouth curled in triumph and he extended an arm, stretching up towards Stolas with his glass in hand. The owl’s long, elegant fingers closed around his own glass once more, lifting it to tap against Blitzø’s with a satisfyingly final ‘clink’. “Welcome to the circus, birdie. You’re gonna love it.”
Stolas’ smile was bright and downright dazzling, clearing the sag of fatigue from his eyes and lifting his features prettily. “I already do.”
Chapter 3
Summary:
Stolas gets introduced to the circus.
Chapter Text
Blitzø
“Hi! I’m Millie. This is my sister Sallie May.” Millie jutted her hand out and snatched Stolas’ from mid-air, shaking vigorously. Sallie was more subdued, smiling bashfully behind a shock of black hair but shaking his hand all the same. “It’s real nice to meetcha, Your Highness.”
“A pleasure, ladies, but...” he glanced at Blitzø briefly, “I think ‘Stolas’ is just fine. We’re colleagues now, aren’t we?”
Sallie May crossed her arms over her chest, cocking out one hip and blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a puff of air. “I mean, we work for you don’t we?”
Blitzø prepared to jump in, all too ready to assert his dominance and make sure that Stolas knew the pecking order. Stolas was faster.
“That isn’t quite how I see it, but I suppose I understand why you would think that.” Stolas smiled kindly, tilting his head to one side. “Blitzø is still very much the ‘boss’. I’m just making an investment, a sound one I think. I love the circus— this circus. It’s very special to me. I’ve no desire to meddle, only to help.”
Stolas said it all so fucking casually, completely ignorant to the gravity his words held. They thudded on the floor between the Prince and the imps, heavy and thick with meaning, while he kept smiling that damned pretty smile. Blitzø wasn’t sure exactly what expression he made but apparently it was a humiliating one because Millie’s eyes took on that sharp, knowing look that meant he would be hearing about this for weeks.
“Y’know, when Blitzø said he knew a bonafide Prince we all thought he was full of it.” Millie’s grin broadened impossibly further. “But here you are and wow. Just the sweetest thing and a looker to boot! Ain’t he a real tomato, B?”
The sharp jab of Millie’s elbow was nothing compared to the way his stomach flip-flopped because of course Millie would be the one to point out the super tall, super hot hellephant in the room. The one that hadn’t stopped smiling at Blitzø once. The one that was currently flushing prettily and hooting adorably behind his hand.
“Oh hoo-hoo-hoo, you’re too kind!” Stolas gushed, waving Millie off.
“Trust me, she ain’t really,” Sallie May drawled.
Blitzø fixed Millie with a glare that could slice through lead like butter, hissing quietly through his fangs. “You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
“Pfft, yeah right. I’m hilarious an’ you’re about as transparent as air, honey,” Millie whispered back, jutting her forked tongue out at him.
“He’s married.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you?” She tapped the tip of his snout with her finger. “Or are you finally gonna stop oglin’ my husband’s cute lil’ caboose?”
Okay, he deserved that. But still.
Sallie May, ever aware of her sister’s antics, stepped in smoothly to distract Stolas while the best friends squabbled in hushed whispers. “So how’d you meet his muttonhead?”
“We met as children, actually.” Stolas was beaming and Blitzø suppressed an embarrassed groan.
“Oh yeah?” Now even Sallie was smirking. Blitzø needed to go. Immediately.
“Yep, real real old friends. Is that all? Great. C’mon Stolas.” He put both hands on Stolas’ lower back and shoved him towards the tent flap under the guise of continuing the tour.
Stolas made a sharp, avian noise of distress and twisted his head unnaturally to look back and down at Blitzø. “Is something wrong, Blitzo?”
“The ‘o’ is silent now, feathers.”
Stolas
It seemed that he had a great deal to learn about the intricacies of show business. And working, for that matter. Every new tent and ramshackle structure was a revelation; who knew just how much effort went into the brief entertainment that the audience took for granted? And these lovely people, they did this multiple times a day every day. It almost beggared belief.
Introductions were brief, laden with a simmering current of trepidation and excitement that Stolas shouldn’t have been at all surprised by. His patronage was a boon to the circus, no one could deny that, but he was not quite so naive as to not recognize the great valley of difference between himself and the demons in Blitzø’s employ.
Millie, one half of the strong-women duo, was the most welcoming. As Stolas trailed behind Blitzø like a duckling, she was the first to jump forward and offer him her hand along with her sister. Strange interaction with Blitzø aside, he was very grateful for the woman’s showing of support. Slowly as they traversed the camp others emerged, likely more curious than earnestly interested but Stolas could live with that. He was learning so much! Not only about rigging and lighting and animal care, but about his new partner. By the time the tour was over, Stolas had learned that Blitzø had a twin sister, an adopted daughter, and that his so-called ‘employees’ were really more like an extended family. It was overwhelming in the best way, being surrounded by so much warmth and laughter and earnest connection.
“You good, birdie?”
“Hm?” His gaze trailed from one of the brilliantly colored tents down to Blitzø’s eyes, framed by incredulously cocked brows. “Oh yes, I’m wonderful. It’s just all a little... different to what I’m accustomed to.”
“Yeah, I guess dirt floors and tents aren’t really your speed.” Blitzø seemed to fold in on himself and puff his chest out all at once, a peculiar mix of self-consciousness and bravado. “You know, you don’t have to—”
“Nonono, you misunderstand.” Stolas waved both hands frantically. “I love it, Blitzø. You’ve no idea how frightfully dull palace life is!”
“Uh-huh.” That incredulity was back and sharper than ever.
“One may never say what they think or feel. Laughter always comes at the expense of someone else. You aren’t permitted to do anything for yourself. It’s cold and precise and the same every single moment of every single day and it’s so-so fucking lonely and here?” Stolas spun around to face him, a little breathless. He could feel the flush heating his faceplate but he couldn’t stop. “Here you’re never alone. You’re never quiet. What you have, it’s... beautiful, Blitzø.”
Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck all the way up to the spikes that bisected his skull. It was a nervous trait, Stolas had noted, one he did when he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I uh— I guess I never really thought of it like that. I mean, you make living right on top of each other and having zero boundaries sound kinda nice.”
It was nice, it was so much nicer than Stolas knew living could be. Some shrill voice that sounded entirely too much like his wife reminded him that it was unseemly to complain too much. Stolas cleared his throat softly, straightening his spine and offering Blitzø a polite smile. “Where to next?”
“Huh? Oh, uh… my office.”
Blitzø
He watched as Stolas trailed a finger down an old poster tacked to the wall, one that showed him and Fizz as kids in their joint clown act. Blitzø had put an ‘x’ over the last letter of his name and Stolas traced the shape thoughtfully. “So, if I may ask... why is the ‘o’ silent?”
Blitzø shrugged. It wasn’t an uncommon question, though he usually answered with something along the lines of ‘mind your own fuckin’ business’ and left it at that. “It’s a clowny name. I’m not a clown anymore.”
“Indeed.” Stolas’ tone betrayed that Blitzø wasn’t quite as slick as he thought, but he didn’t press the issue. That was better than if Blitzø had managed to brush it off, honestly. It felt suspiciously like trust and respect and all of the things that Blitzø absolutely couldn’t be fooled into thinking the Prince felt. “You did promise that one day you would have a big office. I’m very pleased to see that you made your dreams come true.”
“It’s not that big.” Blitzø’s thumbs hooked into his suspenders. With Stolas there, stooped so that his crest didn’t scrape the ceiling, all he could see was how cramped it was, how the paint had begun to peel, how shabby the furniture was...
“Don’t belittle your accomplishments, Blitzø.” Stolas’ tone was scolding, like he was talking to a child, and Blitzø immediately thought of Stolas sitting alone in that restaurant and the way he’d been so awed by all of the introductions today. Hell, did the silly bird talk to anyone but his kid?
Still, his tone rankled Blitzø who was decidedly not a child, thanksveryfuckin’much. He felt the spines on his back flare up in warning but managed to swallow the ‘fuck you’ on the tip of his tongue. “Why? Because it’s novel for an imp to make it this far?”
“Because it’s novel for anyone to make good on their childhood dreams.” There it was again: the sincerity. The same sweet, unguarded look that made him such an easy mark the day they met. “I’ve observed that life has a rather nasty way of beating them out of you, one year at a time. So few adults seem genuinely happy with the way their lives have panned out, imp and Goetia alike. After all, isn’t that what you’re selling here? The fantasy of being a child again, if only for a moment. Of suspending disbelief and letting yourself pretend that everything is possible.”
“I guess... yeah.” Blitzø could practically feel the teeth of the rusty cogs in his head catching. “Hey, yeah! That’s it, Stols!”
“Pardon?” Blink. Blink.
“Suspenders of dis-whatever, what you said.” Blitzø snapped his own suspenders against his chest, grinning. “All this time I’ve been focused on giving them something real , but that’s not what they’re here for. That’s not what kept you comin’ back.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Magic.”
“Illusions?”
“More like... exaggerations.” Blitzø hopped up onto his desk, throwing his arms wide as his words painted a picture and his hands helped to sell it. He knew how to work an audience and from Stolas’ expression, the bird was instantly spellbound. “Millie and Sallie are tough as shit but wouldn’t it be so much more impressive to watch them lift a hellephant? What if the audience couldn’t even see the trapeze? Barb would be flying! Moxxie, throwing knives at a volunteer that turn into flowers or bubbles or some shit. Impossible costumes, lights, smoke, fucking fireworks right inside the tent! Pirates!”
“Childhood fantasies.” Stolas nodded along. “Playing pretend.”
Blitzø snapped and pointed right at him. “Exactly!”
“Blitzø, you’re a genius!”
“Yeah?” His lashes fluttered and a blood-dark flush crept up his neck. “I mean, pfft yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”
“You’ve made your dreams come true.” Stolas offered a hand to Blitzø to help him down. A totally unnecessary hand that Blitzø took anyway and didn’t think too hard about why. “Now we’ll do the same for the audience.”
“What about you? What were your childhood dreams, birdie? What did you want to be when you grew up?” Blitzø’s boots met the ground, his hand still curled around Stolas’ long, cool fingers.
“Oh,” Stolas pulled away and Blitzø’s chest protested with a little thrum, “well I was spared that particular disappointment.”
“How so?”
Stolas smiled sadly. “I never let myself have any.”
Shuttering the circus for the weeks leading up to the ‘Grand Re-Opening’ was one of the most terrifying things Blitzø had ever done, and he was no stranger to dangerous, stupid shit.
As he nailed the ‘closed for now’ sign up over the empty ticket booth, some part of him wondered if they would ever open back up again. Sure, Stolas had agreed to foot the bill for a few weeks so they wouldn’t starve, but what if this gamble didn’t pay off? What if this was just, as Barbie insisted, a ‘bored rich guy fucking with us’?
He had placed his whole life, everything he had and hoped to have, squarely in the palm of Stolas’ soft, dainty, never-worked-a-fuckin’-day-in-his-life hand.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Barbie was only giving voice to the doubts in his own mind, but it was ten times more grating in her voice.
His twin followed him through the half-empty maze of tents, demanding answers that he didn’t know how to give as his gaze drifted upwards. The tent flags flapped in the stiflingly warm breeze while striped canvas shapes huddled together against the bruised burgundy sky. When was the last time he’d looked at the stars? Actually looked? They weren’t the same stars Stolas studied, not the Earth sky full of weirdly named constellations that he loved to yap about, but they were pretty all the same. Blitzø wondered if these had names, too.
“Hello? Hell to Blitzo?!” Barbie waved a hand in front of his face until he dropped his chin to look at her. “You can’t be serious. We had to refund tickets!”
Blitzø groaned. This argument was already getting old and it was day fucking one. “Two tickets, Barb.”
“Two tickets, two hundred, whatever! That shit never used to matter to you.”
“Bullshit. You’re thinking of Fizz, the one who never had to worry about filling seats,” Blitzø snapped. Barb was going to need to do better than that if she wanted to get under his skin.
“You know what? At least Fizz didn’t throw in the towel. He made something of himself!” Okay, yeah that one stung a bit. Barb one, Blitzø zero.
He threw his arms up into the air. “What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?!”
“I have no friggin’ idea!” Her posture reflected his own, even down to the wriggle and thrash of their tails. Arguing with Barb was like screaming in the mirror. “Look, if you don’t want to do this anymore, that’s fine, but I—”
“We can’t do this anymore,” Blitzø snarled. When Barb hesitated he pressed onward, taking advantage of the brief opportunity to get a fucking word in. “Listen, I shoulda been more honest, I know that. But the books are… bad. Like, real real bad. This thing with Stolas, this is the best shot we’ve got.”
Barbie folded her tattooed arms across her chest, cocking one hip out and rolling her eyes. “Pleaaase. Just because you’re sweet on him—”
“Give me some fucking credit, Barb! I’m not giving away the farm for a nice pair of legs.” Blitzø would’ve been humiliated by admitting even that much of his attraction to the Prince, but there was little point in out-and-out lying to his sister. She’d never buy complete denial.
“Aren’t you?”
“No, dammit I-” Blitzø scraped his claws back over his horns. “This was the only way.”
Barb hissed the next few words through her fangs. “Don’t you think that’s a decision we shoulda made, I dunno, together?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Blitzø groaned in response to the disgusted little snort she made. “Probably. Definitely. I fucked up, okay? But don’t take that out on Stolas…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Barb took a few steps away only to pivot on her heel and march right back to him, pointing a finger at his snout. “He’s not some damsel you need to save, Blitzo. He’s using you!”
She didn’t know Stolas. She hadn’t heard the sincerity in his voice. She hadn’t watched the way his face creased in pure, innocent joy as he laughed at the simplest things. She hadn’t seen that broken look in his eyes when he confessed to having no dreams of his own, making Blitzø want to drown him in all of the dreams and desires and imagination that filled his own head until the bird suffocated on possibility.
That was exactly Barb’s point, wasn’t it? He was doing it again. It was a pattern for him. Taking in strays, meddling in other people’s problems. Insinuating himself, making himself useful. Indispensable. Needed.
Fuck.
“No, I’m using him. We’re using him.” The words felt… wrong. Thick and chalky on his tongue, bitter like a pill he couldn’t quite swallow and was left to dissolve in his mouth. Still, he plodded on. “We need him. He’s our meal-ticket right now, like it or not, so I need you to have my back here.”
“Fine.” She turned her face away but Blitzø could see her expression softening and knew he’d finally found a foothold. “As long as that’s all he is.”
“Pfft. What else would he be? Cross my heart, the bird is just a means to an end.” Blitzø dragged a claw across his chest in a lopsided ‘X’. “I need you to trust me.” He held out a hand to her, giving his best contrite ‘I’m too cute to stay mad at’ eyes.
“I do.” Barb took his hand and they mirrored each other, stepping close and bumping foreheads like they were hatchlings again. “Satan fucking help me, but I do.”
Chapter 4
Summary:
The idiots, they're in love.
Chapter Text
Blitzø
Blitzø felt like he should be busy. There was so much to do, in theory, and he was the goddamn ringmaster! He should be up to his pits in work, in managing his overly dramatic performers, in rigging and costuming and…. all of it.
He should definitely not be sitting on a hay bale with a cold Glut-a-Cola watching the work unfold, but that was exactly what seemed to be happening because Stolas.
Magic curled around Stolas’ fingers effortlessly, like shimmering threads plucked from the air and knitted into whatever the fuck he wanted them to be. His book— grimoire, sorry—hovered in the air next to him as he worked, long fingers conducting the chaos around him like an orchestra. An orchestra complete with a sweet, sad wordless melody flowing from the bird himself.
“Damn, birdie.” Blitzø leaned forward, both elbows on his knees as his sweating glass cola bottle hung limply from his claws. The drink was a luxury, provided by Stolas of course. Blitzø was more used to rain water and rotgut whiskey than the sticky sweet concoction. “I never knew you had pipes like that.”
Stolas let out a little trill, his head twisting around while leaving his shoulders behind. Blitzø suppressed a wince. There was flexible and then there was whatever the fuck that was. “Oh! It’s nothing, just something I do when I’m thinking.”
“It ain’t nothing. You sing great, Stols. Maybe we should put you in the show.”
Stolas’ face, somehow so expressive even without pupils or lips, went through a rapid-fire shuffle from hopeful to embarrassed and landed squarely on resigned before twisting to face forwards once more. “Oh ha-ha, yes I’m sure that would go over swimmingly.”
Something about that sad resignation twinged in Blitzø’s gut like a gas bubble. “Their loss, then.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Well there’s somethin’ I’ve never been accused of before.”
Stolas peered over his shoulder, little white dots dancing in his glowing eyes. “I very much doubt that.”
Blitzø’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he chugged the rest of his soda in an attempt to cool the heat creeping up his chest. “Soooo…” he tossed the bottle into the hay, “need any help? I’m feelin’ kinda useless over here.”
“Hardly.” Stolas finished rigging the aerial hoop for Barbie’s solo act before flexing his fingers, knuckles cracking as the magic dispelled. “You’re the boss, aren’t you? You’re supervising.”
“Heh. Yeah, that ain’t really how it works on my side of the tracks.” Blitzø watched as Stolas waved his hand to summon two more colas from the bucket of ice, passing one to Blitzø while popping the tops of both with a swirl of iridescent violet. “You know, I gotta ask…” Blitzø plucked the drink from the air and considered it, rolling the bottle between his hands. “If you can do all that with magic, why do you rich pricks have servants?”
Stolas’ spine stiffened almost imperceptibly, his tail plumage ruffling before it settled back into its usual smooth, glossy state. “Well… firstly, not everyone can do magic like this. Or even at all. Humility aside, I am a ‘Great and Mighty Prince of Hell’.” The way he said the words sounded… sour, somehow. Stolas took a glug of his cola like he was trying to dispel their taste. “Though I suppose that’s not really an answer to your question.”
“No, it isn’t.” Blitzø regretted the question the moment it spilled from his tongue but there was no taking it back now. He wasn’t sure exactly what he hoped to hear from Stolas but… he needed something. Something to arm himself with the next time his sister tried to drag him back to reality.
“I doubt the answer is one either of us would enjoy.” Stolas joined him in two long strides, perching on the hay bale a respectable distance away. Too damn far, really. “We learn from a young age that Satan created imp kind to—”
Okay, maybe it was a good thing he was outside of slapping distance actually.
“Come on,” Blitzø huffed. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that racist bullshit, of course, but coming from Stolas it hurt more than usual. “You can’t really believe that shit. You’re better than that, Stols.”
“I don’t have to believe it for it to be true-” Stolas’ eyes widened at the crack of Blitzø’s tail and the snarl that crept past his fangs, “now wait just a moment! That’s not… I’m explaining myself poorly.”
“You think?” Blitzø moved to hop down from the bale when long, cool fingers curled gently over his shoulder. He lifted his chin slowly, terrified of what he would find. Pity? Condescension? Anger? He hadn’t been prepared for the bone-deep regret reflected in Stolas’ swollen pupils and the deep downturn of his mouth.
“You asked ‘why’.” Stolas’ voice was soft, brimming with sadness. “That is why, because we are all told that your kind, that you exist only to labor for the rest of us. We’re taught that from birth, all of us, even imps. Whether or not it’s true is never part of the conversation, at least not in my world…” The bird’s chest hitched when he breathed. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s true, or that it’s how things should be.”
“Pretty words,” Blitzø’s shoulder slumped under the weight of Stolas’ hand and Stolas’ words, “but you still have servants.”
“I do.” Stolas took the hint, retracting his hand slowly and knitting his fingers together in his own lap. “Blitzø, what you’re doing here… forging your own path, this is why it’s so important.”
“Why is it that the people in power always think it’s our responsibility to change shit? To prove something, huh?” Blitzø snapped, jumping down and dropping his soda in the process. It felt tainted somehow, touched by the very magic that kept them worlds apart. The cola fizzled and flowed into the hard-packed sand and hay at their feet while Blitzø jutted a claw at Stolas’ chest. “You know who could actually change shit? A ‘Great and Mighty Prince of Hell’.”
“Blitzø…”
“I got shit to do. Make sure the trapeze is set for rehearsal tomorrow.” Blitzø’s voice was gruff, his words clipped. It was his ‘boss’ voice and it felt good. It felt safe. If he was in charge, then Stolas couldn’t hurt him.
Just like he told Barb: a means to an end.
Millie
“Alright B, I’ve had it. Just what’s got your tail in a knot this time?”
Blitzø lifted his head from his desk, groaning when he saw Millie standing in the doorway with her arms folded across her chest. Her hands were still wrapped tight and dust coated her skin from the disaster of a rehearsal earlier.
‘Disaster’ might be a little dramatic, but if everyone else insisted on acting like a damn drama queen then Millie figured she should join in. Honestly, the acts were coming along just fine. It was the pigheaded ringmaster and their magical patron doing everything demonically possible to avoid saying two goddamn words to each other that threw a wrench in the works.
“Not now, Mills.” Blitzø’s head thumped back down onto the desk heavily. Millie rolled her eyes and kicked the door closed with a hoof. The loud slam made Blitzø’s shoulders twitch but otherwise he didn’t move from his wallowing.
“Yes, now.” Millie put one hand on the desk and wrapped the other around one of Blitzø’s horns, lifting his head. “I usually let you work this shit out on your own but we’re on a schedule, hun. I’m gonna need you to butch up and tell me what’s wrong so I know who to hit.”
Blitzø snorted something that was almost a laugh. “What if I’m the one who fucked up?”
“I mean, I can slap you around a little if that’ll snap you outta this funk.”
“Nice. Can Moxx watch?” Millie dropped his head with a satisfying crack. “Ow!”
Smirking, she hitched one hip up to lean against the desk. “So what’d you do to the bird that’s got you in here lickin’ your wounds?”
“Nothing!” Blitzø sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. “I mean, I didn’t do anything. Certainly not what you’re implying. I just…” He sighed, kicking his feet petulantly under the desk. “I asked a question I didn’t really want to know the answer to.”
“Aw, B.” Millie’s voice and expression softened. For all of his bluster, Blitzø wore his heart right on his sleeve and it wasn’t the first time that trait had come back to bite him in the ass. “You told ‘em how you feel and he shot ya down?”
“What?! How I— no!” Blitzø’s sputtering denial might’ve been adorable if it wasn’t so profoundly ridiculous. “I asked him about why he has imp servants.”
Millie took in a deep, sharp breath. “Ah Hell, Blitzø…”
“I know.” Blitzø growled, scraping his horns with his claws. “I fucking know, okay? There was literally no answer that wasn’t going to piss me off, and maybe that’s why I asked. It’s easier to know where you stand with people like that.”
“I mean, what’d he say that was so bad? He seems like a good egg to me.”
“Millie…”
“I’m not sayin’ it’s right! I’m just sayin’ that it ain’t all on him. If anythin’, it seems like he’s tryin’ and that’s a fuckton more than I can say for most demons, royal or commoner.” Millie dragged a single claw over the desktop, leaning her shoulder down and tilting her head to catch his eye. “Orrrr… is this really about somethin’ else? Like maybe how hard it’s gotta be to be fallin’ so hard for a guy who’s married and who is way outta your league?”
Blitzø couldn’t even manage a convincing look of surprise so he just coiled in on himself, drawing a knee up against his chest and sinking deeper into his chair. “Fuck off.”
“I thought so.” Millie leaned even closer, not letting him retreat into his shell. “Wanna know a secret, B?”
“Do I have a choice?” he spat through his fangs.
Millie smiled warmly, waiting for him to look at her fully before she continued. “You’re fuckin’ aces. You’re selfless and kind and tough as nails. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for you. You make all of us believe that we can be more, B. It ain’t a surprise at all that you set your sights so high! That’s just you, hun, and you know what? There ain’t nobody that’s outta your league.” Her smile sharpened just a bit. “Except Moxxie, of course.”
Blitzø sniffed softly, rubbing his face furiously on his sleeve before wide, wet eyes met hers again. “You really mean that?”
“Sure I do,” she cooed gently.
“He’s still married.”
“That’s for him to figure out. You weren’t the one who took a vow, were you?”
“No…”
“So say your piece. What he does with that information, that’s his decision.” Millie gripped Blitzø’s collar and pulled him to his feet. “Now get that cute little ass up, go change your shirt, and go get your bird!”
Blitzø pulled away, smoothing down his collar and the front of his threadbare linen top. “What the fuck’s wrong with my shirt?”
“A lot,” Millie giggled. “For starters: when was the last time you washed it?”
Blitzø sniffed beneath his arm, his expression going flat. “...fair.”
Stolas
Stolas should have gone home hours ago, truthfully. Rehearsals were done, Blitzø was barricaded in his office with no indication that he wanted anything to do with him… there really was nothing keeping him here.
So what had brought him back to that same hay bale, his taloned feet absentmindedly rolling an empty cola bottle back and forth in the sticky dirt?
What a mess.
It was hardly a mystery why Blitzø wanted nothing to do with him. He had handled that conversation so spectacularly poorly. A conversation that he should have expected because of course he could pretend that there was no difference in how the rest of Hell saw them but for Blitzø that difference would always be there. Because he was the one subjected to it, every single day, by people who looked and acted and spoke just like Stolas.
How could he ever have expected Blitzø to see him differently? Was he even any different at all?
Stolas had only thought of himself when he entered into this partnership. Of the excitement that was so conspicuously missing from his life, of the way that Blitzø’s dashing smile made his insides squirm like nothing else, of the way he—
“Stols?”
The Prince shed a flurry of feathers and an undignified squawk as he spun around, met with the very object of his pining.
“Blitzø! Goodness, I…” He cleared his throat, smoothing back his crest. “I’m glad to see you, actually. I… wanted to apologize. For before. I was condescending and intransigent.”
Blitzø’s eyelids drooped and one corner of his mouth turned downwards. “If you’re trying to make me feel dumb it’s workin’, feathers.”
“No! Not that wasn’t-” Stolas sighed. “It’s easy to tell myself that because I treat and pay my servants well, that because of the way I admire you, because of all this,” he swept his hand at the brightly colored tent around them, tinged with the scent of sweat and chalk and peanuts, “that I am somehow different. But you’re quite right, of course. It may be different, but it still isn’t… right. It isn’t okay.”
“No, it ain’t.” Blitzø shocked Stolas by hopping back up onto the bale, sitting closely enough that their thighs touched. “But it also wasn’t fair of me to put all that shit on you. You didn’t make the system, you’re sure as shit not gonna tear it down all by yourself.”
“I suppose not.” Stolas looked down at his hands. “But I could do more. I want to do better, to be better.”
“It means a lot that you’re tryin’, birdie.” Blitzø bumped their arms together. “More than you think. I was caught up in my own head but someone set me straight… what we’re doin’ here, it’s important to more than just us.”
“And… what is it that we’re doing here, exactly?” Stolas asked softly, his pulse skipping under his skin as his fingers dug into his knees involuntarily.
Blitzø’s eyes widened and Stolas felt a swell of hope bubble up in his chest, swelling until it blocked his throat and he struggled to breathe. That bubble burst the moment Blitzø averted that glittering gaze, a self-conscious smile on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “The circus, of course.”
“Of course,” Stolas parroted, trying desperately to keep the tremor from his voice.
“So… we’re good?”
“Of course, darling.” Stolas put on a smile through the pain. He’d had enough experience, that was certain. “We’re wonderful.”
Barbie Wire
Barbie slipped out of her practice costume, one hand rubbing at shoulder as the straps and cinches gave way and she could finally breathe deeply again. Warm, calloused fingers gently nudged hers out of the way and began to massage deep circles right on the spot that plagued her.
“You okay, sugar?” Sallie asked softly.
“Fine.” Barbie closed her eyes, counting backwards from five. They both had volatile tempers and a tendency to lash out when stressed… It was part of what worked so well about their relationship, but it could just as quickly spell disaster and property damage. “You saw them tonight.”
“Who?” Sallie asked innocently. “Blitzø and Stolas?”
“Obviously,” Barbie deadpanned, even as she tilted her head forward and groaned at Sallie’s steadily descending fingers. “He isn’t telling me the whole story there, that’s obvious.”
Sallie was silent for a long moment though her fingers continued their march down the tense channel on either side of Barbie’s spine. Finally she broke the silence and Barbie realized just how completely she’d stepped in it. “I mean, you ain’t told him about us, have ya…”
“That’s different, Sal,” Barbie said too quickly. She spun around, gathering her lover’s hands in hers and bringing her knuckles to her lips. “You know how he gets. All… brothery and protective.”
Sallie snorted. “Right. Which is completely different from what you’re doin’?” She lifted her scarred brow, fixing Barbie with that look that cut straight through her bullshit every damn time.
“What? No! I mean, yes— it’s completely different!” she sputtered futilely.
“Uh huh.”
“I just… don’t want him to get hurt.”
“I know, sugar. I know.” Sallie pulled her close, tucking Barb’s curled horns under her chin. “But he’s a big boy ain’t he? And Stolas seems like a nice guy.”
“He’s a Prince,” Barbie whined.
“Yeah, and?” When she tried to protest Sallie only squeezed her tighter. “Look, I ain’t sayin’ this ain’t headed straight for heartbreak… but you gotta let him figure that out for himself. And who knows? Maybe fairy tales do happen.”
Barbie nuzzled closer, breathing deeply at the juncture of Sallie’s neck and shoulder. “Yeah,” she exhaled. “Maybe.”
Chapter 5
Summary:
The Grand Re-Opening! Also the story earns its M rating here folks.
Chapter Text
Blitzø
Blitzø had almost forgotten how loud a fully packed house could be. He stood behind the curtains, claws flexing around the brim of his hat, trying to identify the feeling squirming in his gut. Holy fucking shit— was he nervous?!
Sure, he was worried as fuck that this would all flop, or that Stolas would come to his senses, or any other of a million equally horrible possibilities, but that wasn’t what had his lunch threatening an encore.
He was nervous about performing in front of a crowd this big again.
About performing in front of Stolas.
The past few weeks had been their own kind of Hell within Hell for Blitzø. Stolas was everywhere, with his pretty laugh and his irritatingly good ideas, delivering just about anything that Blitzø could think to ask for with a wave of his hand or the flourish of a pen. How could Blitzø not be into that?! He was only a simple imp, one who had never excelled at resisting temptation.
And boy, was the bird fucking tempting. Ever since the near-miss after hashing out their bullshit, it was like the invisible bubble between them had popped. Stolas was always finding ways to brush those soft feathers against Blitzø’s skin, to touch with velvety fingertips and sharp talons. His eyes, fathomless in their power, formed the cutest little pupils when they were locked on Blitzø and those tiny white dots followed the imp wherever he went. That temptation was inescapable, except when it wasn’t. When Stolas went home to her, that stupid cow that he spoke about like he was headed for the gallows and not the warmth and comfort of his fucking palace. As much as the bird drove him crazy when he was around, it was when he wasn’t that Blitzø’s mind really kicked into overdrive.
Because Millie was right. She clearly didn’t make him happy. And Blitzø? Blitzø did. Well, the circus did at least. He could live with that. As long as Stolas was smiling.
I’m using him. We’re using him.
Those same words had stayed his tongue that night on the hay bale when Stolas had looked at him like he hung the fuckin’ moon. The memory of his promise to Barb, of the shitty things he said behind Stolas’ back, and of the reality of this whole stupid thing. Of who he was. He just had to get through tonight. Maybe, if the circus was okay then he could risk…
“You’re going to be in trouble, Mister.” Stolas’ lilting voice made Blitzø jump out of his skin, tail slithering around his own leg protectively.
“I-wh-huh?” Blitzø stammered.
Stolas was smiling warmly down at him, his feathers lit from behind by one of the lamps that hung from the tent frame and shit. Was he using magic to glow like that or did Blitzø just have it that bad?
“If you don’t get out there soon, the crowd is going to riot.” Stolas hooted, all four eyes squinting into little crescents. He took the hat from Blitzø’s claws, gently brushing the felt smooth. “Are you ready?”
Blitzø swallowed thickly, hearing his own throat click. He summoned all of his hard-earned false bravado and flashed a winning smile. “I was born ready.”
“You know, I actually believe that.” Stolas bent at the waist and popped the hat on his head, settling it between his horns before placing a quick, bashful kiss on Blitzø’s cheek. It was strange, the soft scrape of his beak, but it lit a fire under his skin that threatened to burn him from the inside out. His mouth went desert-dry and he gawped up at Stolas as the bird retreated demurely.
“For luck,” he said in a rush before putting entirely too much distance between them again. Blitzø was left with sweat beading on his scales and his heart thumping wildly while the owl just tittered “Break a leg, darling!” and rushed out of sight.
Stolas popped the cork from the champagne bottle, giggling as it jetted across the room. They were in Blitzø’s tent, the only place far enough from the big top to offer some respite from the raging afterparty. This was like the third bottle of champagne Blitzø had partaken in —the refreshments were all provided by Stolas, of course, so this was the real stuff— but Blitzø still eagerly held out his cup, enjoying the way his brain fizzled along with the bubbling liquid.
“Congratulations, Blitzø.” Stolas topped off his cup before filling his own. He lifted it with those damned elegant fingers that Blitzø couldn’t stop staring at, tapping it against his. “Tonight was a triumph.”
“Because of you.” Blitzø’s tone was emphatic, demanding even. He’d watched Stolas brush off praise and gratitude all evening and there was a point where humility started to be more irritating than gloating. Stolas was rapidly approaching it.
“Pish-posh.” Stolas did that annoying thing where he waved his hand like he was dismissing one of his servants. “The means and the motivation are completely—”
“Stolas, stop! Stop talking about yourself like that.” Blitzø slammed his cup down on the overturned crate that acted as his nightstand, earning him a startled little cheep from Stolas. Head spinning and heart thundering, Blitzø climbed up onto his cot, standing on the mattress to put him closer to eye level with the Prince. He took a breath and the words just started to flow out with his exhale, floating on a river of champagne bubbles. “I-when I came to you, I was ready to throw in the towel. I couldn’t see a way out of the hole I was in and I was just trying to keep us going, y’know? One foot in front of the other. But you? Fuck, birdie... you made me love this shit again.” Blitzø rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. “No, that’s not even right. You made me remember why I love it. Seeing it through your eyes, having someone next to me who cares just as much as I do? You brought the magic back. For so long, life was just about surviving. But I’m living now. So... you did a lot more than you think. For me.”
Stolas
“Oh.” Stolas fell silent, his head swimming. It wasn’t the champagne he was drunk on, but Blitzø’s words, spilled just as generously until he was drowning in their implications. He took a shaky breath and made his own confession, far more demure than Blitzø’s. “Blitzø, I have never felt more alive than I do when I’m with you.”
He lifted his chin; they were so rarely face to face like this. His tongue involuntarily wet the edge of his beak and he watched in delicious agony as Blitzø’s gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back again rapidly.
“Stolas, I-stop me if I’m reading too much into this, but—”
The Prince closed the distance first, both hands cupping Blitzø’s cheeks as he nuzzled his beak against the imp’s lips. It was an awkward thing, the heated curl of tongues as Blitzø’s mouth gave way under his, but it was the most erotic thing that Stolas had ever experienced. They kissed like that, Blitzø’s claws fisted in the expensive silk of Stolas’ shirt and his tail coiled possessively around Stolas’ thigh, until the imp was forced to come up for air.
Reflexively, Stolas began to babble an apology as reality surged and threatened to crash down on him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was foolish. I should-”
“Fuck that. C’mere.” The wave of worry ebbed as he was hauled back against Blitzø’s chest, teeth clinking against his beak as their tongues slid together once more. When Blitzø needed to breathe he would simply pull back enough to purse his lips and pepper Stolas’ face with little, fiery kisses that had the Prince ready to climb out of his skin just to try to find a new home in Blitzø’s.
“Oh, Blitzø...” he panted, fingers curling around the back of the imp’s neck to caress the spikes between his horns. “You have no idea how long I’ve ached for this. For someone to want me.”
Blitzø’s groan was nearly enough to unman Stolas right then and there. As it was, his knees had conspicuously turned to water. “Stols, if you had a fuckin’ clue how hard it’s been to keep my claws off you...”
“Then please, don’t.” Stolas nipped at Blitzø’s lower lip as gently as he could, chittering softly. “Don’t stop. Don’t hold back.”
“Are you sure?” Blitzø’s pupils were huge, all but eclipsing the red of his eyes and swelling large against his glowing yellow sclera. Arousal, Stolas noted faintly, remembering what he’d read on the subject in some anatomical text. He longed to press closer and see what other evidence of want he could sus out in Blitzø’s foreign but very welcome biology. “What about—”
“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” Stolas made certain that his voice left no room for doubt because he certainly didn’t feel any. He would have given nearly anything in that moment, his crown, his titles, his fortune, all of it just for another searing touch. “Make me feel, Blitzø. I want to feel you. All of you.”
Blitzø growled and grasped his shoulders, dropping onto the mattress and hauling Stolas down with him. Once the Prince had arranged all of his limbs on the too-small bed, Blitzø rolled until his slight body had Stolas’ pinned between the heat of his skin and the mattress. Deft, quick hands made short work of their clothes while Stolas utterly lost himself in the newly unbridled ferocity of Blitzø’s kiss. As soon as Stolas’ hands were free of his shirt they were pinned above his head, slim wrists grasped between strong claws. “How do you want me?” Blitzø whispered against his jaw, his words a soft contrast to the roughness of his hands. It was nothing short of thrilling.
“Inside me,” Stolas blurted. He’d procured a few lurid novels from the human world in his travels, intrigued by the risque juxtaposition of restrained courtship and bodice-ripping intercourse that seemed so popular up there… and so far from his own marital experience. Now all he could think of was that he wanted it for himself, and judging by the way Blitzø rocked against the apex of his thighs when Stolas voiced his desires, Blitzø was more than equipped to give it to him.
That did not preclude them from a bit more awkwardness, however. In those novels everything always happened smoothly, as though everyone knew just what to do even though it was often the first time for both parties. While he was reasonably certain that Blitzø was no more virginal than he was, there was the differing anatomy to reconcile. Still, once clothing had been shed and a few shy questions answered, Stolas’ legs were wrapped snugly around Blitzø’s waist and Blitzø was burying himself just where he ached the most.
And it was perfect. At least, for him.
“Shit,” Blitzø gasped.
Stolas shifted, wrists still gripped tightly in one hand, worry making him squirm even more so. Sweet Lucifer, what if it was bad? What if they weren’t compatible at all as far as Blitzø was concerned?! Could he please his lover in other ways? “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah. It’s-fuck- so alright,” Blitzø ground out through his fangs, every muscle in his body drawn taut like piano wire. “Just... one sec. I’m trying not to- I just need a second.”
Oh.
Stolas couldn’t help his coquettish smile. He leaned up as much as he was able, stretching his neck to peck a teasing kiss on Blitzø’s cheek. “Take all the time you need, darling…” he whispered, his tongue tracing a bead of sweat down the slope of Blitzø’s jaw.
Something snapped in that moment and whatever it was that Blitzø had been trying to keep under wraps burst free, his grip on Stolas tightening as he did his resolute best to press Stolas straight through the mattress and the floor beneath.
Blitzø
Blitzø woke with the first rays of the crimson sun, as usual. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rolling over to seek more of the sweet, masculine scent of Stolas’ feathers. He nuzzled into the pillow, breathing deep, and reached out only to find cool, roughspun sheets. The bed wasn’t very large and his claws met the edge of the straw mattress before he even got his eyes open.
“Stols?”
His tent was empty and except for the empty champagne bottles and lingering musk in the air, there was no sign of the bird. He’d even managed to clean up the feathers that had scattered over Blitzø’s sheets.
Blitzø’s stomach dropped and then swooped, doing its own aerial acrobatics that had nothing at all to do with all the champagne last night.
Stolas was gone.
“Dad?” Loona’s voice was sharp and impatient, not that that was any real deviation from the norm.
Blitzø breathed through his nostrils, sitting up straighter and looking down at his untouched oatmeal. Shit, how long had he been zoned out? “Yeah sweetie?”
“Are you even listening?”
Nope. Not even a little. “Sorry, Loony. What were you saying?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Loona rolled her eyes, folding the newspaper in front of her and putting both elbows on it. “What the fuck’s up with you today?”
“Nothing! I’m good, I’m fiiine!” Oof, way to overcorrect dumbass.
“Uh-huh. Super convincing.” Loona wrinkled her snout, shoving more coffee at Blitzø. He accepted it gratefully, even though it was terrible, because he knew it was her way of showing that she cared. “What gives? Last night was the best show we’ve ever had and tonight is already sold out. I figured you’d be doing backflips and shit.”
Blitzø almost bobbled his mug. “Really? Sold out?”
“Uh yeah. We were even in the paper this morning.” She tapped the paper that was now her placemat. “Wow, you really have been out of it. So where’s Stolas, anyway? You know how showbiz is. We gotta start working on the next set of acts pronto if we want to capitalize on all this shit before people get bored.”
“He’s...”
“Good morning!” Stolas swept into the tent along with a ray of sunshine, his clothes crisp and his feathers immaculately coiffed. It was unfair and absolutely maddening how he’d just been able to somehow erase everything that happened last night. He could at least have the courtesy to be hungover. “Did you see the review in the Daily Apple? Quite the feather in your cap, Blitzø.” He smiled warmly, like absolutely nothing was wrong.
Bastard.
“Didn’t they call him a fraud and accuse him of public indecency?” Moxxie asked from behind his own copy. Wow, they really must’ve had a good haul from the cash office last night if they could afford two papers…
“Indeed. And nothing sells tickets like a bit of indecency.” Stolas giggled at his own joke, sliding onto the bench next to Blitzø. The imp slid over to give him space. A lot of space. “I was taking calls from my wife’s social circle all morning looking to procure seats for upcoming shows.”
“And how is Stella doing?” Blitzø all but growled. Loona’s brow flicked upwards but no one else seemed to notice.
“Hm? Oh, as lovely as ever,” Stolas bit out, his hand ghosting over one side of his face self-consciously. “Anyway, I had some ideas for a new act...”
“I don’t think we need a new act just yet. Let’s give everyone a chance to see what we’ve got first,” Blitzø said. What he meant was: we don’t need you here right now, please leave so I can be miserable in peace.
“Oh, I think you’re going to like my idea.” Stolas’ eyes twinkled with mischief. “You see, I happen to be friends with Asmodeus, the Sin of Lust—”
“Everyone knows who Asmodeus is,” Barbie said around a mouthful of oatmeal, glaring.
“—and he managed to arrange a lovely little chat with one of his siblings this morning to secure a rather exciting guest star…”
Blitzø dropped his spoon, giving up on breakfast altogether. “You mean Mammon?”
“Mmmhmm.” Stolas clapped his palms together excitedly. “I know that you were quite close bef-when you were younger, so I thought it only appropriate that Mister Fizzarolli see just what you’ve made of the circus now. Isn’t that lovely?”
The tent exploded. Fizz’s return was a multi-faceted source of excitement. He was family, really really really famous family, and even Barbie couldn’t hide her enthusiasm.
Too bad all Blitzø could see in this little gesture was the truth of it: a consolation prize.
Chapter 6
Summary:
Fizz is back and he brought the drama!
Chapter Text
Blitzø
“Fizz!!” Barbie rushed across the restaurant to greet him, jumping into his magically elongated arms as he twirled her around and looped his limbs around her several times over.
“Well, there’s one half of the set…” The rasp of Fizz’s damaged voice would never not be jarring to Blitzø but he did his best not to react, crossing the tile floor to wave at his childhood best friend and former love. The public meeting had been Mammon’s idea and there were plenty of bulbs flashing to prove it, enough so that the taste of silver hung thick in the air.
“Hiya, Fizz. Thanks for—”
“Shut the fuck up and get in here!” Fizz’s freaky long limbs found him and soon he was entangled in the latticework of imps right alongside Barbie, both of them smooshed against either side of Fizz’s powder-caked cheek. “It’s so good to see you!! Aaah! You gotta tell me everything I missed. Barb, where’s this gal of yours? I gotta see this powerhouse you won’t shut up about!”
Fizz’s arms unwound, slithering away and leaving Blitzø gawping incredulously at his twin while she tried to clap a hand over Fizz’s mouth. “Uhhh… what gal?”
Stolas
“Stella, we’ve been through this.” Stolas pinched the cere of his beak with one hand, clutching onto his teacup with the other. Oh how he wished there were something stronger than earl grey in there. “I’ve told you, all you have to do is sign and this whole mess—”
“And I’m telling you that I won’t sign it,” Stella said crisply, a familiar cruel smile contorting her features. “The sum isn’t enough. Not nearly enough for the humiliation I will have to endure divorcing you, not to mention the humiliation of having been married to you in the first place.”
Stolas chittered angrily. “Yes, I am sorry that our marriage has been such a burden for you,” he drawled, resisting the impulse to touch the hidden bruise on his cheek from when he’d served her the papers after his night with Blitzø. He’d been buzzing with so much excitement that he couldn’t sleep, not when there was so much to be done! In hindsight, he probably could've been more diplomatic than asking for a 'fucking divorce' but ah well.
He knew that things were… uncomfortable between he and Blitzø at the moment, and he could hardly blame Blitzø for that. After all, he was the cad who had bedded the man while he was still married. He couldn’t reverse his mistake, but he could do the honorable thing now no matter the cost. He could only hope that through his efforts with the circus and by presenting Blitzø with the physical proof of his marriage’s dissolution, that he might be forgiven.
Then perhaps they could begin again, properly this time.
Regardless, that single perfect night had shown him one thing with glaring clarity: he could no longer remain in his sham of a marriage. Not when he knew what real love felt like.
“My brother has drafted a counterproposal.” Stella handed him a stack of papers and he barely restrained his scoff.
“Of course he has.” Stolas took the papers and began flipping through them. “Stella, this— this is everything!”
“Oh don’t be so dramatic, Stolas.” She picked up her own teacup daintily, taking a sip. “It’s only what your daughter is entitled to. She is your heir, after all.”
“Yes, my daughter. Not my wretch of an ex wife!” he snapped.
“Now now, Stolas.” Stella fluttered her long lashes. “You didn’t truly think that a deviant like yourself was going to get custody.” She blinked again, eyes widening comically. “Oh you did! How utterly hilaaarious!”
Her squawking laughter drowned out the sound of his teacup cracking as he slammed it down onto its saucer, contents spilling over the sham of a contract. Stolas stood stiffly, lifting his chin high. “Then I suppose I will see you in court.”
Blitzø
“Uhhh, the fuck Barb?!” Blitzø trailed along after her as they left the restaurant. Thankfully the reporters had dissipated, confident they’d gotten the scoop or otherwise distracted by something more important. Blitzø didn’t give a shit, he was much more concerned with why the fuck his sister hadn’t told him she’d been sleeping with his best friend’s sister and-ugh, this was turning into an absolute nightmare like one of those trashy human romance novels Stolas pretended not to read. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long. Like… a year?”
“A fucking year?! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d act like this!”
Blitzø stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street and stomped his foot. They were almost back to the circus but with Fizz’s welcome party looming, this argument needed to happen here and now. “I’m only acting like this because you didn’t tell me!”
“Man, you guys haven’t changed a bit,” Fizz snarked, pulling popcorn from absolutely nowhere and munching on it loudly. Just how complex were those magical limbs of his?!
“You know what? You’re right.” Barbie turned around and faced Blitzø. “We should come clean. So do you want to tell me what happened the night of the reopening between you and Stolas?”
“Wait wait wait, Prince Stolas?” Fizz whistled, a low and long gritty sound. “Damn, Blitzo… nice.”
“Shut up, Fizz.” Barbie and Blitzø said in unison, sending the clown into a fit of hysterical giggles.
“Nothing-” Blitzø began.
“Really?” Barbie threw her hands up. She stomped over to a nearby trash can and started rooting around in it.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“You really don’t read the paper do you?” She emerged triumphant, a stained, greasy piece of newsprint in hand.
“Okay now you’re just being mean to distract me. Mean and gross. You know I can’t—” Alright, well even Blitzø could read print that large.
Goetic Prince Stolas Divorces Lady Stella in Shocking Scandal
“He… what?” Blitzø snatched the foul-smelling page away from her, eyes raking over the bold print again and again. “Why does no one tell me shit!?”
“Uh, guys?” Fizz croaked. Blitzø was about to tell him to shut his cakehole again when the taut, earnest fear in his voice registered. “I think I know where the reports ran off to…”
Blitzø and Barbie exchanged a quick look and burst into a full sprint at the same moment, rushing towards the billowing green smoke as it curled above the big top.
They couldn’t make it any closer than the ticket booth because of the choking smoke, but a quick look around and assurances from Loona confirmed that everyone, animals included, had made it out okay. Blitzø swayed on his feet, his heart pounding as memories scraped at his mind and scorched his skin. Reflexively he brought one hand up to cover the scarred side of his face and he pitched forwards, right into Barbie’s arms.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Everyone is okay. You’re okay,” Barbie repeated over and over. “Come on, let’s-”
She stopped short and Blitzø lifted his head reflexively, only for Loona to try to block his view. “No, dad, don’t it's fine. Look, let’s just go. The fire brigade are on the way and-”
“Loona, honey,” Blitzø said, his voice hollow. “Move.”
Ears folded downwards and tail slumping, Loona shifted out of the way with a sullen whine. The ticket booth, the only structure not engulfed in smoke and cinder, was streaked with red paint. Once again, even Blitzø could read words that bold. That hurtful.
IMP SUCKER PRINCE
WHORES
FIRE TOAD
WRATH + PRIDE DON’T MIX
Barbie Wire
Barbie breathed in deeply before pushing open the flap in Blitzø’s makeshift tent. They had spent a few nights at a boarding house in Imp City on the coins left from their last few shows, but eventually they had to come back and survey the damage. Rebuilding wasn’t even a question Barbie allowed Blitzø to ask, she’d just set everyone to work while Blitzø wallowed.
She toed past a few empty bottles, grimacing. The familiar stench of stale sweat and cheap whiskey brought back a lot of unpleasant memories, but none of those were Blitzø’s fault. At least he’d run out a couple of days ago and had been wallowing sober since then. “Hey, B. You have a visitor.”
“Tell him to read the graffiti,” groaned the heap of blankets in the corner. “Spells things out pretty damn clearly, I think.”
“It isn’t Stolas.”
The lump shifted, curling tighter around itself. One of the blankets slid down to reveal the dull curve of one of Blitzø’s horns. “Oh, he finally gave up? Good.”
“Maybe.” Barbie tipped over a crate and sat down on it, elbows resting on her knees. “He sent his daughter this time.”
“He- fuck, Barb I can’t face Octavia.” Blitzø sat up immediately, eyes wild. “She probably wants to murder me!”
Barbie couldn’t help but smirk. “Now why would she want that?”
“Uhhh, maybe because every paper in town says I’m the homewrecker that broke up her parents?” Okay, clearly he was too far gone down the rabbit hole to get the joke. Fine. She could poke him a little harder.
“I mean, you kinda are…”
“You’re not helping.” Blitzø huffed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the tent poles. “You were right. Stolas and I, it was a disaster waiting to happen. And now look what I did. Another fire. Fizz is gone again. And I-”
Barbie snorted loudly, cutting him off. “Fuck that, no I wasn’t.”
“Huh?” His head rolled to face her, brows knitted.
“Blitzø…” Barbie scooted her crate a little closer. She didn’t even notice when he’d stopped being ‘Blitzo’ in her head but it felt right, leaving the past where it belonged. Finally. “When I told you to steer clear of Stolas, I was just trying to look out for you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well, yeah exactly. And now-”
“I’m not done.” Barbie’s stern, husky voice shut him up and she got a little thrill at that. Some things never changed. Except maybe they did, because she was about to do something totally fucking unprecedented for her: apologize. “I didn’t want Stolas to hurt you. Those idiots out there? The kind of shitty people that have nothing better to do than start fires because of someone else’s relationship? Those aren’t people that you should give an ounce of your fuckin’ energy. You didn’t do this, they did. And Stolas didn’t hurt you. Fuck, Blitzø… he blew up his life for you! He’s been here every day helping us rebuild, waiting for you to get your head out of your ass.”
“He has?”
“I mean, you didn’t really expect him to just wait around, did you?” Barbie huffed, taking the wide-eyed kicked puppy look as a good sign. At least it meant Blitzø was listening. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Sal and me, and I’m sorry I meddled and put all these fucked up ideas in your head. I was scared. But Stolas? He’s a good guy. I don’t know if it’s gonna work out. If something like this even can work out, but… I do know that if you don’t find out for yourself, you’re never gonna be happy.”
Blitzø picked himself up with a groan, stretching muscles that he probably hadn’t used in days. “Shit, I am really getting high-roaded left and right, aren’t I?”
“Eh, Millie and I take turns knocking sense into you. It’s our thing.” Barbie looped an arm around his waist and pulled him into a hug. They rested their foreheads together, sharing a dry laugh. “Now c’mon, go talk to the poor girl.”
“What if she hates me?” he whispered, clinging to her tighter.
“Then you gotta deal with that. I mean, it’s not like you’re a stranger to handling obnoxious teenagers…”
“Loona was never obnoxious!”
“Says you.” Barbie released him, putting both hands on his shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. “You got this, Blitzø. I promise. And when this is all over, how about you and me and Sal and Stolas go get a drink, huh?”
“I’d like that.”
Chapter 7
Summary:
Via comes to visit. Stolas makes his circus debut.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Via
“Kinda cool, I guess. Your dad running a circus.” Via kicked a loose pebble across the dirt, hugging one arm across her middle awkwardly. She was rarely outside the palace without a chaperone, much less in this part of town, and she knew how blatantly she stuck out. Not that it seemed to be bothering her companion.
“Sure, when it isn’t burning down,” Loona deadpanned. “Sorry, bad joke. How, uh, how’s your old man?”
“He’s…” Via tilted her head left to right, deciding not to outright lie to the hound. She seemed nice. “He’s doing his best. It’s not easy. My mum has never been easy, but this whole mess… the Goetia don’t really forgive and forget.”
“Bummer.” Loona lit a slim, hand-rolled cigarette and took a drag. “So, how are you?”
“Me?” Via cheeped, eyes wide.
“Yeah, I mean. Parents getting divorced, finding out your dad hooked up with my dad. It’s gotta be tough.” The hound shrugged, as though talking about one’s feelings with virtual strangers was a completely normal thing to do.
But… Lucifer, Via wanted to. She had so many! Feelings, that is, and maybe if she could just tell someone… “I don’t want him to leave,” she blurted. “I can’t handle all of that without him, I just can’t. My mum, the Goetia, the titles, the duties…”
Her breaths were coming fast and shallow and Loona took a step closer, invading her space and radiating warmth.
“Hey hey,” the hound’s voice was soothing, gentle even. “Look, dad’s fuck up. Like all the time, trust me. And they’re idiots. Case in point, my idiot dad who is probably hiding behind a bush or something right now because he’s scared of a teenage girl.”
Via hooted brightly behind one hand, her laugh catching her by surprise. Loona’s snout creased with a smile.
“But they mean well. And your dad? He loves you, a lot. Shit, I feel like I already know you because he talks about you so much.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Said he’d take me to the museum with the dead animals and shit with you guys sometime, which is admittedly very cool but very not-Stolas-like of him.” She tossed her cigarette into the dirt, grinding it out with her bare paw.
“Oh, he hates it.”
“But he loves you.” Loona smirked knowingly, every inch of her face saying ‘gotcha’.
Via had no choice but to concede the point. Because he did. He must. He’d never shown her anything but love, not in her entire life up until this. And was it really so unfair of him to seek a little happiness for himself, if that’s what this was?
“Yeah.”
“So, there you go. He’s not going anywhere, kid. Trust me.”
The sound of a throat clearing drew Via’s attention and when she didn’t see anyone she had to tip her chin down until she caught sight of a pair of black and white striped horns and a meek looking two-toned face beneath. “You… must be Octavia.”
“And you must be Blitzø.” She looked him up and down. His hooves shuffled in the dirt, toes pointed towards one another, and he rubbed the outside of one arm in an almost exact mirror of how she had been standing only a moment ago. He was terrified, and that all by itself told her enough. He wanted her to like him, because he wanted this to work. Even though they had both managed to, as Loona said, ‘fuck up' … these two idiots were clearly in love and who was she to get in the way of that? “Alright, well…” she sighed and looked back to Loona, “do you have a well or, I don’t know, a bucket or something? Obviously I can’t take him to see dad like this.”
“Wait, you’re not here to,” Blitzø tapped his index fingers together, eyes shifting left and right and up and down and everywhere Via wasn’t, “I don’t know. Murder me?”
“See? What’d I say? Idiots,” Loona snarked. “Come on, dumbass. Let’s get you clean.”
Via began to follow Loona, trusting that Blitzø would come along, and stopped when she felt the gentlest touch on her wrist. She looked down and he had looped his tail around her arm just enough to get her attention. It retracted immediately, taking up residence wrapped around his own leg.
“Hey…” Blitzø began, his voice rough from disuse or possibly crying. Both, probably, if the state her father had been in for the past week was anything to go by. “I’m really sorry. About how all of this went down. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”
She considered the little imp for a moment. She had made him out to be some sort of monster in her head but seeing him here and now, she couldn’t see anything but a man trying to fix what was broken. “Does he make you happy?” she asked, finally.
Blitzø exhaled his next words, his voice tremulous and emphatic like the most desperate prayer. “Like nothing else.” Via’s chest filled with warmth. She could never imagine that look in her mother’s eyes when she spoke about her father. If there had ever been even a spark of that kind of love between them, it had been gone for so long that she couldn’t remember.
“Then that’s all I need to know.”
Stolas
“I can’t do this.” Stolas paced across the entire length of the curtains in two strides before turning and doing it again. He was wearing a divot in the hard packed floor.
“Ohhhhkay, songbird.” Sallie May pressed a glass into his trembling hand. “A little something to warm up with.”
“Wine?” Stolas asked hopefully, wrapping his fingers around the mug. He hadn’t eaten all day so there was nothing on his stomach to justify the knots it had twisted itself into.
“Nah, tea with lots of honey. Gotta keep those pipes in tip-top shape.” She clapped him on the back entirely too hard and he choked on the tea. Barbie and Loona laughed from their spots warming up for their various acts, though there was no ambiguity about who the headliner was tonight.
Hence the stomach knots.
Fizzarolli was making his grand return next week, having been inspired by Stolas and Blitzø’s very public relationship to reveal his own. With the Sin of Lust, no less! With Asmodeus at his back, the clown had told his boss to fuck off and quit midway through a performance. The distraction taken a great deal of the public pressure off of Stolas as he finalized his divorce, made all the easier by the irrefutable proof Moxxie and Millie scrounged up that the vandalism of the circus had been orchestrated by Stella and her heinous brother. The intention had been to take out Blitzø as well, though mercifully the assassin had rather bungled the job. Of course, neither would see the slightest bit of reprimand for it but their impish mercenary, Striker, got a lovely three month vacation in a Wrathian prison. The system was broken, of that there was no doubt, but he had custody of Via and had left with a decent amount of his wealth, if not his palace. It was more than enough. As for 'Fizzmodeus', as the papers dubbed them, they were the talk of Hell and tickets for Fizzarolli’s first dozen shows back at the circus had absolutely flown!
But tonight was about Stolas, as he was continuously reminded.
“Ready, dad?” Via said brightly, walking through the tent flap with Blitzø at her heels. Seeing the loves of his life walking side by side made his chest flutter and a syrupy warmth fill his limbs, almost enough to combat the squirming nerves that threatened to turn him inside out.
“Does he look green to you?” Blitzø asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Yup.” Via popped the ‘p’ at the end of the word, looking Stolas up and down. She had helped to design his costume, a glittering swath of star-dotted fabric that shimmered when he moved. It wouldn’t do for him to be sick all over it before he'd sung a single note.
“Should we get a bucket?” Sallie asked.
“Probably.” Blitzø replied.
“Oh, Lords…” Stolas groaned, dramatically draping an arm across his forehead. “I can’t do it. Just tell them that I’m desperately ill and I’ve lost my voice. Permanently."
“Hey hey hey.” Blitzø was there in a flash, standing atop a bale of hay that brought back a swirl of memories. He took both of Stolas’ hands in his, setting the tea aside and giving his fingers a few rhythmic squeezes. Before Stolas knew it his breathing had synched with the pulse of Blitzø’s grip and his heartrate began to slow. “Stols, you’re going to be perfect, okay? You’re always perfect.”
“Disgusting.”
“Gross.”
“Awww.”
“Ew.”
They ignored the familiar chorus, eyes glued to one another. “This-this is your show, Blitzø. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I-”
“It’s our show. All of ours.” Blitzø rocked up onto his toes to press his forehead against Stolas’, a comforting purr rumbling from his chest. “And what you’re gonna do is go out there and break a fuckin’ leg, alright?” Blitzø flashed that dazzling grin and Stolas was everywhere at once. The circus as a child, the bar when they had made their deal, that wondrous night when he’d learned what love could be, the day Via dragged Blitzø to the palace doorstep and he'd thrown himself into the imp's arms, their wedding in the cramped chapel in Pentagram City on the same day his divorce was finalized. Every memory was etched into his mind with its own radiant smile attached.
“Alright. I’m ready.”
“Damn right you are. Come on, birdie. Time to fly.”
Notes:
Thank you for coming along for the ride! I hope it was as satisfying to read as it was to write! And once again, a huge HUGE thank you to Oona for joining me on this journey <3
sploona on Chapter 1 Wed 20 Aug 2025 03:26AM UTC
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ulieunha (bomyokoi) on Chapter 1 Wed 20 Aug 2025 10:53AM UTC
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sploona on Chapter 4 Wed 20 Aug 2025 04:23AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 20 Aug 2025 04:23AM UTC
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