Chapter Text
Stability. Such a simple concept. Things running unimpeded, normally. No unexpected twists nor turns on this road of life.
Stability. . . Such a simple concept. Such a comfort.
And right now, in terms of Octavia’s life? Absent as FUCK!
Which. . . Just seemed the way her life had ALWAYS been. Once upon a time, Octavia had been a Princess. Daughter of Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia, and Stella, Princess Member of the Goetic Nobility. Born to a life of privilege, of wealth. Extravagant food, the fanciest of toys, the softest of fabric. She was worthy of all. Lies! She had been. . . So happy.
And then, in the course of a single night. . . Well, being honest, that night and THREE months full of nights and days. . . And then quite a few days scattered here and there throughout the yea- POINT being! . . . Things changed. One night, Octavia had gone to sleep, her life normal. And then, she’d woken up naked and in a cage.
Three months of torture followed. Three months of humiliation, of despair, oppression, her cheer dragged out of her and stomped to death. Her life was over and ruined. Never to recover.
“Dad, STOP!”
Except, not so, as the sounds of her giggling and delighted cry would indicate.
Escape had come, freedom and relief, from the most unexpected source. While hiding away from her tormentor, she’d taken refuge in a dumpster, nothing but a blanket to barely hide the nakedness of this once former princess. A place one only typically opened to dump more filth inside. Octavia though, found someone who’d opened it up to get something out. While it’d taken a bit, she’d come to trust and LOVE her savior. The man called Blitzø. The man she called-
“DAD!” She finally pulled him away, her arms outstretched and gripping his shoulders, trying DESPERATLY to get her giggles under control. “I JUST straightened out my crown!”
“Fraid the blame for all this falls SQUARLY on your shoulders, little Octapus!” He smirked, his hands still reaching out for the feathers on the top of her head that served as her hair. “Not only for having the CUTEST looking bed head known to demon kind, but also being just ADORABLE in general. I can’t help but reach out and tousle you hair.”
“You’re only doing this cause I can’t retaliate!” She pouted, the smile on her face though making clear the atmosphere was all in good fun. “Baldies like you will NEVER know how hard I work to get my crown feathers straight!”
“Oh yeah, you’ll clearly face ridicule out there from demons with x-ray vision who see your ruffled feathers under the beanie you wear everywhere but the apartment.” Her father pulled away, putting the table between them, picking up her beanie, and wiggling the thing.
“It’s the PRINCIPLE of things!” She shot back, leaning forward to grab it, giggling as he started playing keep away.
It went on like that for a minute, him cackling and waving his arms around to keep the beanie out of her reach, her giggling as she frantically reached for the hat, all whilst both understood that with a snap of her fingers, that beanie would be encased In her magical power, tugging out of his grasp and back into her hand, but that would be cheating.
. . . Then again. . .
He held out the beanie, teasing her to take it. “Go on, Octapus. It’s right HERE. You can reach it.” She slowly and tentatively reached out, KNOWING that he would quickly jolt the beanie when the tips of her fingers grazed the fabric. It was a familiar game, one that they’d played since she was a child.
He seemed to forget that she was no longer a child. Or weak.
She paused, putting on a face of ‘Is this real’, pretending to hesitate to reach farther. Her father wiggled the beanie a little, continuing to tease her to reach, never suspecting her real play. She loved the way his face was right now. So smug and confidant. She loved the way his smirk twitched when she let on her own smirk, the way all that confidence fucking VANISHED the moment she snapped her fingers and her magical aura encased him, lifting him and floating him towards Octavia. He struggled for a few seconds before pouting and pointing a glare her way, though she could see a smile twitching on his lips. “You’re a CHEATER!”
She smiled innocently, a finger on her lips. “You never said no magic, Daddy.”
“Cheater!”
He floated into her lap while she snatched the beanie away, wiggling it in his face. “You always taught me to use every advantage I had to get what I want.” She teased as she dissipated the magic holding him.
“NOT AGAINST ME, YOU CHEATER!!” He whined, kicking his legs, acting like a child. He pointed a glare at her, but it carried no heat. In fact, he seemed to be trying DESPERATELY to keep a smile off his face (A fight he was failing). She was so sure she had an absolute victory. Unfortunately, despite not being related by blood, both father and daughter were petty losers and she should’ve known better than to lower her guard to celebrate early. He lunged forward, planting his lips on her cheek, blowing a raspberry.
“DADDY!” She cried, equal parts dismay and giggles, as she pushed him away, working her fingers through her face feathers. “Now I have to fix my FACE too!” The only response was a loud cackle as her father leaned back laughing falling out of her lap to roll on the floor victorious.
“ARGH!” Which ended rather promptly as she magically grabbed a nearby mug of coffee (That’d been there CHRIST knows how long. She SWEARS she thinks she saw it yesterday.), dumping it on his chest. Like said, father and daughter were both petty losers An all true statement. Petty. . . Loser.
“Oh you are made of BITCH, little girl!” Her daddy cried, though an amused, almost prideful smile cut through the insult. He pulled his soaked shirt, sucking at the fabric, presumably to get as much of the coffee into his system as he could (He really was a caffeine addict.). “You are MADE of bitch!”
She snorted. “You’ve met my mother! You shouldn’t be-“
Octavia froze. That had been a mistake. She’d known it was a mistake the SECOND those words had left her beak, but they had gotten out before she could think better. She found her father’s eyes, Blitzø frozen in place, looking at her with wide eyes. For a few seconds, neither said anything. But she saw the beginning of a conversation forming on her dad’s lips. She cut him off, leaping up out of her chair and bee lining to the bathroom. “I’m gonna go fix my feathers.” She burst through the bathroom, closing the door quickly, standing in front of the mirror, busying herself with straightening her feathers.
Her and her fucking BEAK! Always saying the wrong thing, aren’t you?
Shut UP brain! She had enough to deal with right now without your BULLSHIT!!
Bringing her birth mother like that. . . That whole complicated mess.
‘You want to know the way of things!? They said. . . Heh, they said ‘TAKE HER! Useless child, all she does is eat our food, waste our time, waste our money! Please, take her away so that we might try again with a new child!’ You were nothing but a complete BURDEN to them, and were there for, thrown away.’
Those words, those cruel words by Baron Wastes, the man that had taken her from her home, kept her naked in a cage for three months. For three months she’d been tortured, beaten, dragged out before groups of hellborn, mocked, spat on, made to bow before them while Baron’s heeled boot had pressed her face to floor. All that torment and torture, and she waited. Waited and waited for her parents to come, to rescue her, to deny those words.
But they never came for her. The longer and longer she waited, the more time that passed where she was humiliated and abused, the more the idea that Baron was correct took root. That she HAD been thrown away. A burden, a drain. And after she’d run away, after she’d escaped, it hadn’t been her parents that had rescued her. It hadn’t been Prince Stolas, who’s magical prowess were legendary, who gently held her in his arms as he showed her a dying planet, promising that no matter what, he would ALWAYS be there for her who’d hidden her, kept her safe.
No, the man that had done all that for her was the one gently and meekly entering the bathroom after her. The imp who was wringing his hand and not meeting her eyes in the mirror. “. . . Look, if that was about me saying you were made of bitch-“
She snorted and tried to shoot him a smirk in the mirror, though she could see how weak it was. “Hey, I poured coffee on you. You’da been justified calling me a cunt at that point.”
He shook his head and finally met her reflection’s eyes. “No, Baby girl. . . I’ll call you a lot of things. But not that. Never that.”
The sincerity there. . . She ended up blushing. She took a breath, trying to focus, running her fingers through her cheek feathers. “I don’t care about you saying I was made of bitch. Heh, I kinda am.” She met his eyes through her reflection, a much more genuine smirk on her beak. “I get it from my daddy.”
A look of amusement emerged on his face, leaning against the wall, a look of mock offense in his eyes. “Oh really? And when have you EVER gotten the impression that the word BITCH applies to me in ANY way, young lady?”
“From you. That mug of yours does not help matters.” She smirked, looking on her now straightened out cheek, satisfied. She picked up her comb, going to work on her crown hair.
“I got a lotta mugs. Some mine, some other’s.” She rolled her eyes. If Moxxie and Millie only knew who was dirtying their mugs. . . Then again, her dad wasn’t exactly subtle. She DOUBTED that his use of their mugs was a secret.
“The one I’M referring to is the one with the words ‘Boss Bitch’?”
“Oh Octapus. My dear naive girl.” Her dad shook his head, hands on his hips. “There’s a difference between a plain bitch and a boss bitch.”
Octavia snorted. “Either way, classification remains, bitch.”
They both chuckled for a moment, the atmosphere between them settled into a partly friendly, partly awkward. A silence broken up by the sounds of them breathing and the ruffling of her hair as she combed.
“But. . . Since you brought it up. . .” Her dad was the one who broke said silence, as he often did. “Your mother? Your father?”
Octavia knew what he was leaning into, but she didn’t want to hear it. She made a move to divert. “You want to talk about her and you?”
There was a flinch from the imp, shuffling on his feet. “No! MAMMON no! I. . . I mean you and. . . Stolas and Marsh?”
Again, she found herself curious about the nickname he’d given Stella. She couldn’t really see the logic behind it. Her own nickname, Octapus? A play on her name, Octavia. Marsh though? She didn’t really get the logic. “What about them?”
“Well I mean. . .” Her dad shuffled, wringing his hands. “I mean, it’s been. . . Ten days.”
Ten days, yes. Ten days. Such a short time, compared to the ten years since she’d come to believe Baron’s words about her being deemed a burden and worthless to them. An explanation that she had fought and denied at first. But the longer and longer she was left in captivity, enduring torture and degradation, the more the words took hold, the more that they seemed to ring true. Goetias were, by default (With a few exceptions here and there.), very powerful. Her father’s magic, Prince Stolas’s magic? He could open portals. He could divine the truth of prophecies of the stars. It should have been such a simple task to find her, to bring her home. And yet, day after day went by with no relief, no rescue in sight. Even after she escaped and came into Blitzø's care, he never came.
In fact, the one time that she HAD seen Prince Stolas in her time with her new imp dad? That had been when she spotted him swimming in the waters of Envy, dotting and showering a hellhound girl with the affection that had once been Octavia’s.
It had been the incident that had cemented everything. Fine then! You don’t want me, think that you can replace me so easily!? FINE! I don’t need YOU anymore! I have a new daddy, a BETTER daddy! And I love him more than I EVER did you! Have your dog, who’s apparently SO much better than me! Not a burden at ALL! Good bye and FUCK you! I hope you DIE!!
Ten years (Technically 7 years if we were going by the whole, seeing Stolas playing with that hellhound, Loona.). For all those years she’d held this grudge, nursed it with all her hate, rage, and resentment. Stolas hated her? Well, she would hate him too And her too. . . Why wasn’t she good enough?
Except. . .
‘I’ve never stopped wanting to talk to you. . . I- I missed you. . . You’ve no idea how much.’
And then they’d encountered each other, accidentally. And in the matter of a month, her life and perception were in a complete upheaval.
So, as it turns out, her parents HADN’T abandoned her, nor given her away. She had been kidnapped, and thanks to a carving that Baron Wastes had made on her neck (One which her finger slide over to trace.), she had been hidden. It wasn’t that they never came for her, they LITERALLY couldn’t find her. Apparently, even now that Stolas knew definitively where she was, he could not sense her, nor even scry her.
It should’ve been a relief, a comfort. Instead it just made her feel stupid. A decade. For a fucking DECADE, she could’ve gone home and be welcomed home with open arms, had these worries that had been stewing soothed over.
She did not regret staying with Blitzø, not for a moment. She LOVED him, he was her daddy in all ways but blood, and always would be. But to know this simple alternative had been available to her all these years. . . Like she said, stupid.
Though, even with all she had now, knew now, an element of her anger remained. That hellhound’s face flashed through her head. Stolas holding her close, Stella wrapping her arm around the dog like she’d NEVER done for even her own daughter. . .
She shook her head of that evening. The evening ten days ago where’d she and her dad had gone to the Sin of Lust’s penthouse, sitting down with her parents and speaking properly for the first time in a decade. They had talked about her time under the cruel and sadistic thumb of Baron Wastes, about the carving on her neck. SO much had happened that evening. So much that even now, ten days later, she was still in the process of. . . Well, processing.
She shook her head, forcing her finger away from the carving on her neck, one that was apparently a geometric seal mimicking the power of the Seraphim Metatron. Such a powerful thing, a mystery. To anyone else, it may have been the biggest thing to ponder.
But. . . That was not the only thing that had come out. In addition to seeing the mother that had always been so reluctant to hug her having no qualms about doing so for the dog, there were OTHER things that occupied her mind. Things involving her grandmother, about her father
Her grandmother, had tried to molest her. . . Such strange thing to process. Her skin crawled at the thought. It was disgusting and . . . Something she would need to discuss with her dad at some point.
But. . . She was scared. Not for herself. For him. For how he would react to that revelation, to the topic of said revelation. Because, as had come out in that dinner, she was NOT the only one in her family who’d suffered at Baroness Eathelin’s hands.
‘Shall I tell you EVERYTHING ELSE Mother did to me!? What she FORCED me to do to her to convince her to FORGIVE ME!!?? BUT WHAT DO YOU CARE, EH!? YOU WERE OUT OF HER REACH LIKE YOU WANTED, FREE FROM HER HANDS AND TONGUE, SO IT DIDN’T MATTER TO YOU!! SO LONG AS I WAS THE ONE SHE RAPED AND NOT YOU, WHAT DID YOU CARE!? SELFISH PRICK! I CAN’T BELIEVE-‘
Her hand shivered as she recalled the words that her birth mother had thrown at Octavia’s daddy. So in addition to her, her grandmother had done the same thin- Gone FURTHER with Stella and Blitzø then with Octavia actually from the sounds of it! And they weren’t the only ones she’d hurt.
‘Take me in Eathelin! I’m the last thing you will EVER see! Your WORTHLESS toy, Your SLAVE!” He giggled, glaring at her with more hate then she ever thought would have been possible. “YOUR BARON WASTES. . . I swear to you, one day, all of Hell Nobility will shake in TERROR at the sound of this name, this title! I will take that which you cursed me with and I will gouge out EVERY SINGLE ONE of you worthless Pigeons! But first. . . FIRST. . . I’ll gouge out your horrible- HORRIBLE. . . EYES!’
Like anytime that that moment flashed through her mind, the time where Baron Wastes had held a knife to her eyes, Octavia shuddered. The darkest time in her life, those three months of captivity that she’d endured. . . All on that woman. . .
Baroness Eathelin. A woman that Octavia had not often spent time with, who very few interactions stood out (Besides the very OBVIOUS moment.) with. She was responsible for so much pain in her life. Her torture had created Baron Wastes, the very man that had kidnapped her, told her that her parents had given her away. His life as a sex slave to the woman had left him warped. Warped enough that when he’d gotten his hands on Octavia, he’d gone out of his way to make her life miserable. For every year that he’d been captive (Eight years from the sound of it, the little tidbits and rants he’d gone on.), it was like he was determined to make her suffer every one of those accumulated days. If she hadn’t escaped. . .
And now, in addition to all that, she’d apparently ruined her birth mother and daddy’s life, hurt them in similar ways. . .
And she had no idea how to process this, let alone help him through it. . .
“Baby girl?” She was jolted out of her thoughts by the feel of her dad’s hand coming to grip hers, finding that in all her thoughts, she’d started gripping the sink. His hand gently stroked her own, looking worried. “You okay?”
She gave him a reassuring smile, trying to sooth his worries. “Yeah, just. . . Thinking.” She gently pulled her hand away, running her hand one last time to her fixed hair. “I know it’s been. . . A while, since that whole thing at Asmodeus’s. Lots of. . . Lots of things ta think about, regarding us both, ya’know?” She met his eyes through the mirror.
She saw a quick flinch, followed by her blowing a raspberry and waving his hands, a gesture that she’d come to understand as dismissing a subject and silently BEGGING her not to follow up on it. “I’m just asking cause the three times I’ve spoken to Stolas, Ya’know, when he’s not being a nosy fuck.” He mutters, grinding his teeth a little. “Anyway, we’ve talked three time, and every time, he’s asked how you’re doing. I think. . . I think he’s waiting for a call from you. Something to indicate what happens with you three now. Ya’know, You, Stolas, Mars- . . . Your mom?”
Octavia scoffed a little. “I told him when we left, I’d call him when I was ready to talk to him and her again. Just because HE’s getting anxious doesn’t mean he gets to rib you to get me to reach out-“
“That’s not what he’s doing. Believe me, I reiterate that point when he asks after you, that you’ll call when you’re ready. I’m just. . . Just curious when that’ll be?” He said, wringing his hands.
She sighed and waved her hand. “When I figure out all this crap.” She forced a smiled onto her beak, attempting a change in subject. “You ain’t going into the office like that? Coffee spilt all over your shirt.”
There was a moment of quiet, one that her dad spent biting his lip. She feared, for that brief moment that he would push at this, try to talk to her birth parents. But only for a moment. She saw it, the telltale signs of him pushing down that urge to talk through this. A smile stretched out across his face, one that looked remarkably genuine. “I don’t know. You think it might help?”
She scoffed in amusement, turning to face her dad with a smirk. “Sorry, going into work with a coffee soaked shirt is gonna be helpful?”
“First off, let’s not go throwing THOSE stones given who spilled the coffee on me in the first place, missy.” He shoot back with his own amused smirk. “Secondly, yeah. I think it might do REAL good for daddy’s productivity to be able to suck a little bit on his shirt throughout the day. Kinda like a drip feed sort-“
He let out a little yelp as she once again lifted him with her magic, floating him out of the bathroom. “Go put some fresh clothes on, you MANIAC!!” She giggled out.
He was gently dropped to his feet, giggling himself. “Only if YOU go put some FRESH coffee on. And no pouring it out on daddy this time!” Her dad ran off to his room, giggling to himself, leaving Octavia to do the same.
She took one last look at herself in the mirror, finding her feathers to have been adequately soothed out. She reached for her beanie, pausing to examine the thing. A simple black thing, nothing really special about it.
Except for an embroidered patch on the front. A recreation of the mark on her father’s brow. It looked like a little heart, but circular chunks missing from the side and horns floating at the top, almost making it look like a stylized skull.
When she was younger, Octavia thought it looked like an imp version of the Goetic seals. She’d asked about it, and her dad had told her that it was the brand of the circus where he grew up, that his mother, father, and sister all had them too. It sealed the idea of it being a family seal. Right after the beach incident, where she’d seen her birth father playing in the water with that hellhound, dotting on her like he’d once Octavia, Except not anymore because you are a THOROUGHLY worthless thing Octavia had been a little. . . Gung ho about proving herself as family to Blitzø, so much so that she very much wanted the marking on her own brow, a way of symbolically connecting them. But she didn’t want to BRAND herself with it (If it was indeed a brand. It could’ve been a tattoo. Her dad never really clarified what it was.). One, that would’ve required angelic steel to ensure the wound left didn’t heal completely over within hours, and two. . .
She’d had quite enough hot pokers against her skin, and she had NO desire to go through that pain again. . .
Anyway, so that left her to knit a patch with the brand onto her beanie. She had been so excited when she was finished, running off to show him. And he seemed happy to see it. Partially. There was some. . . Grimace on his face, like he was happy, but not completely, At the time, she’d been worried that it was a sign that he was PARTIALLY resenting how clingy she was, how much she was ingraining herself to him. Now, now with context, about how his father had sold him off to be a playmate for her Uncle Andrealphus, the bitter history with him and the jester, Fizzarolli (Creepy FUCK!), the fact that she STILL hadn’t been introduced to her Aunt Barbie, how much he clamped up when the subject of his mother came up. . . She wondered if maybe he couldn’t smile completely because of how much painful history seemed to surround the brand. How typical of you. Seeking acceptance and hurting the one who’s done so much for you.
Regardless, she slid her fingers across the patch. Whatever painful history that came with it, it’d always meant something to HER. This connection between her and her dad, this brand they both shared (Even if she could take hers off and on.). It felt more like a bond then the one she shared with her birth family.
Would that bond repair itself if she reached out and attempted to repair this gap? Who knew? But for the moment, she was content with the bond she had.
Besides, there was STILL so much to sort out before it could, she thinks. Let Stolas and Stella have their dog.
She was more than happy with the daddy she had now.
She donned her beanie, pushing those thoughts to the side. She had coffee to make. . . And she could go for a cup herself.
Many looked at the life of nobility and saw it as a life of luxury and leisure. They must sit around munching grapes and relaxing, never knowing the burdens of hardship.
Prince Stolas WISHED that that misconception was true. It sounded dreamy.
Was his life luxurious? Oh yes. He was blessed with fine drink and food, enough money that he could afford to blow it on his every whim, his every comfort.
But was his life easy? Oh no, not at all. He was a member of Hell nobility, tasked with the upkeep of Hell itself, the preparations of legions that would march as part of Lucifer’s army when it came time for the Final War of Existence, and the reading of the stars. Such task required great care and management. And then there were his peers, fellow nobles who were constantly watching him, waiting for the SLIGHTEST sign of weakness or failure. And once they had such things, they would descend on him like vultures (Or LITERALLY in Duke Murmur’s case.), ripping everything from his legions to his property. Ars Goetia’s were lacking in real friends (Phenex was an exception, even if only because the root of their friendship could be traced back to Heaven. Though that was not a guarantee of survival of friendship, after all, Phenex was not the only friend he’d had up above. He was just the only one not to BREAK that bond between the two.), the only real bonds between them alliances and deals, a thin foundation for friendship, so easily destroyed. Some would say his luxuries were the reward for such a difficult and lonely existence.
And besides, as the old saying goes, ‘Money can’t buy happiness’.
The luxuries of his life couldn’t give Prince Stolas the things he TRULY wanted. He was still lonely, he CRAVED love and affection, not the meaningless and hollow words of his peers, offering a smile and comfort while they positioned a knife at his back. After. . . After the troubles with Phenex, troubles that had only recently begun to settle, Stolas had been left all alone. Surrounded by peers and a wife, but all alone regardless.
That loneliness had briefly abated with the birth of a daughter. Octavia, his beloved Starlight. His everything, this pure girl that brought him happiness like nothing else. Only the warmth of the presence of God (Back before the Fall.) could’ve compared. Suddenly, his life had so much light to it. Hope, even brighter than his happiest days down here.
She was such a treasure. Through her, Stolas and his wife, Stella, had found ground to cooperate. While Stolas was sure love could never blossom between the two, after all, it had been something arranged by the Sins of Pride and Envy. A way to smooth over what Stolas could only describe as a conspiracy between him and the clan of King Vine, a way to end this long standing blood feud (That to this day, the prince had no clues to the identity to who’d framed him.). She was unpleasant, petulant, never a kind word to offer him. And yet, for the sake of Octavia, she played nice.
Truly, a blessing she was. . . So of COURSE she would be ripped away from him.
A little more than ten years ago, he’d been awoken by Stella, frantically shaking him and screaming about how she couldn’t find Octavia.
And suddenly, he was thrown back into the dark. . .
Thank Beelzebub. Thank you, Beelzebub! It was the thought that Stolas had ringing through his head as he knocked on the door of the other light of his life. “Loona? Are you up?”
“Yeah, give me a sec.” He heard the voice of his adopted daughter call through the door, the voice already drawing a smile to his face. Much like his own flesh and blood, his adopted daughter was such a bright light. So different, and yet, the joy she brought him, merely by existing, being close to him. . . His Moonlight. His daughter. His Loona.
She opened the door, a neutral look on her face, one he knew would morph into another warmer look once they were minus the company of the staff (Though she seemed to accept him as her father, referring to him as dad frequently behind closed doors, she was still hesitant to do so publicly. He understood, and given the recent trials that had hit their relationship in the past year, he was simply grateful for the progress.), who stood behind him, holding trays with breakfast and morning tea. “. . . Funny, I didn’t order room service.” She snarked, a smile twitching on her lips.”
He had less restraint, a smile upon his beak. “A princess’s whims should be catered to before she even thinks them.”
Loona’s eyes rolled. “I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again. We’re NOT doing the princess shit, yeah?” He hooted a little in amusement as she walked out of her room, wandering over to one of the imps, examining the food. He could see a little delight to her demeanor when she picked up a piece of bacon and tossed it into her mouth. “Thoooogh, I’m not opposed to your tribute here.”
Stolas offered a smile, motioning his hand to signal the staff to deliver their breakfast into his daughter’s room, walking up to her. “Good morning, my love. I didn’t wake you did I?”
She waved her hand. “Nah, I was already up.”
Stolas made a smug little smile. “Before noon? And what remarkable circumstances lead us to such a miracle?”
A light glare without any heat was thrown his way, the hellhound crossing her arm. “First of all, smart ass! Secondly. . . SMART ASS!” He let out a string of amused hoots, covering her beak, and he could see her struggling not to laugh as well. “Thirdly, shut up! Fourthly, Am I SERIOUSLY gonna have to point to that day TWO months ago where you were asleep ALL, FUCKING, DAY!?”
Stolas allowed himself another moment of amused hoots before he looked back at the now empty handed servants, all of them bowing and taking their leave. He and his daughter were now free to enjoy their breakfast in lovely solitude. “Shall we, my dear?” He made a sweeping bow, flaring his arms towards her room (And in the process, noticed one of the servants glancing at him, his face one of confusion. Perhaps this one was new?).
Loona rolled her eyes, taking a step back into her room. “Get in here, you DORK!” She hissed in amusement. There was no heat to her exacerbation, so he paid it no mind. He’d gotten somewhat better at deciphering her behavior behind the aggressive and snarky exterior she put up.
He had learned to see past that (For the most part. Sometimes her deadpan snarkiness gave him some trouble.). No, amusingly, the part of her that gave him the most trouble was her recent openness.
He heard the door behind him close, and jolted a little when he felt her arms wrap around him, nestling up to his back. “. . . Morning, dad.”
He wondered whether or not he would ever grow used to that word, whether it would stop making his heart soar every time he heard her say it. He remembers when he’d first brought her unexpectedly home with him. This aggressive eleven year old girl, expecting that he would allow her a childhood, before training her as a guard for his estate, or if she showed remarkable talent, bring her on as a member of his legions. Seeing her as a daughter. . . That had come later. Not long after, but still so. She had been cold, rude, aggressive. Simply holding out his hand to hold her own to lead her? She usually was wary and tended to act as if he had sinister motives or violent intent when he made to make physical contact. He remembers the first time he made to nuzzle his brow to her own (His lack of lips made nuzzling his brow against hers was the closest equivalent to a chaste kiss that he could offer her.), about a month after she had called him dad for the first time. It had not been well received, her quickly shoving him (Though his size and strength meant that it was mostly from his own will that the shove had had an effect of putting distance between them.) away, screaming at him not to touch her, calling him a pervert. Amusing now, but at the time, extremely distressing (Though he admitted, the fact that she understood the concept of pervert at thirteen and had such fears still worried him to this day.).
And now, here she was, six years later, initiating contact all on her own. . . His hands found her own, gently gripping them. She was such a gift. “Yes, good morning, Moonlight.” He cooed out, unable to keep the cheer from his voice. “Did you have a good sleep? As said, you seem to be up and about a little earlier then typically.
She pulled away, walking around him, but kept one of her hands in his. “I guess. . . Had a bit of a nightmare near the end, got me out of bed. Didn’t want to go back to sleep. . . Go back to it, ya know?” She pulled him towards the small table at the end of the room, where their breakfast wait.
“A nightmare? He asked sympathetically, their hands part as they sat across from each other, his now free hands reaching for the steaming pot of tea, working on filling their respective mugs. “Care to tell me about it?”
“I would, but the memory of it faded pretty quick.” Loona shrugged, taking a handful of sugar cubes and dumping them into her cup (Stolas counted four or five, much to his chagrin. He didn’t mind sweet things, but that just seemed like the natural flavor of the tea would be buried underneath all the sugar.). “I just remember something about. . . A loss, I think. Don’t know, the memory of it faded quick. Most I can remember that it shifted to a jump scare kinda thing at the end. Jolted awake and that was it. And so, I got outta bed early. No biggie.”
“Hmm, I’m so sorry your dreams were not pleasant, my dear.”
She snorted, taking her first sip of tea. “Not YOUR fault. Unless you were trying to magic up good dreams for me and fucked up royally. . . You know, cause nobility?” He snorted at the word play. Yes, the fact that he was a Prince of the Ars Goetia meant that when he made mistakes, he did indeed ‘Fuck up royally’. Truer words have never been spoken. Look at your life. “That is a thing right? I think your spellbook has some kinda spell for that, right. Spells that let you control people’s dreams?”
“You think correctly, Moonlight.” Stolas replied, pouring his own cup of tea, watching with some amusement as she slowly pulled the ENTIRE tray of bacon her way. “My Grimoire was originally made by another member of the Ars Goetia. A King Paimon. He maintained it, writing spells and knowledge in it, including the magic you described. It was a particularly favorite of his. He enjoyed being able to gaze into the unconscious minds of the Goetia, to see their true selves, undiluted by the lies and posturing, for where are we more honest than within our own private thoughts, the ones that lay beneath the surface and come to us as dreams.”
“I see.” Stolas could see from her expression that she did NOT in fact see, so he decided to drop the subject. “Speaking of, you Goetias and all that? You done with your census? Figuring which of the Heaven born lot of you are still around and all that?”
Stolas nodded, bringing his own steaming cup to his beak, his mind recalling that task. “Oh, I finished that the day after I started. Twas quite the simple task. I would’ve finished it the day I began, but I had more important matters to see to that day.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
He smiled warmly at his daughter. “My daughter wanted to spend time with me,” She froze a little, looking up at him in surprise. “Don’t act so surprised, my love. Of course I will ALWAYS prioritize time with you over some paperwork.”
“So it was just an excuse to get out of paperwork?” She asked, a slyness to her tone that suggested it was a joke.
But with all the tension between them. . . Stolas, after he’d taken Loona to Loo Loo Land, after she’d told him how his word and gestures had given her the idea that he only valued her as a stand in for Octavia. . . The pain in her voice when she practically sobbed that she just wanted him to love her. . . She NEVER should’ve had to ask that of him, for he DID love her, loved her SO much, with all his heart. . . He would not let such an idea form again. Even if he was certain her words were a joke, he would NOT be taking any chances. “An unexpected bonus, nothing more.” He leveled the gentlest smile at her he could, her expression morphing into confusion. “When I chose to spend that time with you, I never gave any thought to the delaying of my task. My mind was too focused on your voice, your words. . . Have you any idea how long I’ve craved to hear the words, ‘I love you’?”
Loona, Stolas decided, may have been the cutest when she was blushing. Such a shy girl, always putting up a front of aggression and irreverence. These little moments where she tried to hide her embarrassment behind her mug. . . “Fucking every-“ She growled a little, a gesture undermined by the wagging of her tale. “Yeah, don’t expect to hear that from me again for a while. . . Or EVER if you don’t knock this shit off!”
He let out an amused giggle, seeing the edges of her lips twitching as well. A smile being suppressed. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.”
They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Him, sipping on his tea, eating his cereal, she, gulping down tea while shoveling bacon into her mouth, giving him a little glare when he used magic to float one or two from the platter over to him. A nice peaceful moment with his daughter.
So in contrast to his relationship with his other daughter, his biological child.
Octavia. . .
The years past her disappearance had been dreary, the only light in his life had been Loona, but it hadn’t been enough. He loved her DEARLY, but as wonderful as she was, she could never completely fill the void that Octavia’s absence had left. The misery, the frustration that came with a lack of understanding or answers.
And then, months ago, his life began to improve. In the wake of an annual party held at his estate, he’d met someone. A wonderful man, a fellow father, an IMP of all things. Blitz, with a silent o. Stolas. . . The Prince’s heart beat had raced for the first in a VERY long time. A man who understood the struggles, a man who was raising a child not of his blood, but his daughter in all other ways that mattered. He’d fallen in love those short months that they’d know each other. A love he thought reciprocated at the Harvest Moon festival.
And then, within the span of half an hour, that happiness that he’d been building ended up crashing and burning. Loona had called to him with the summoning rune he’d given her. He’d come through expecting to deal with a nameless demon harassing her, one that Stolas would send IMMEDIATELY into oblivion.
The problem was that when he came through his portal to her, he’d indeed found a demon harassing her, but said demon was NOT nameless.
Octavia. His Starlight. . . It’d been ten years, but there she was. Harassing her sister. . . And it had ONLY gone downhill from there.
‘YOU’RE NOT MY DADDY!!!’
The years had not been kind to her opinion of him.
‘I HATE YOU!!!’
In fact, if anything, they seemed to have been utterly cruel to it. . . Those words, they would haunt him forever.
It seems that the one whom had kidnapped her, an imp named Baron Wastes, had fed her stories. Stories that her abduction had been done with his and Stella’s blessing. A cruelty unimaginable by Stolas. He could be vicious and cruel. He had tortured before, but he couldn’t IMAGINE telling someone that said torture was being done with permission from the subject’s parents.
Stolas was looking forward to showing this Baron Wastes the true DEPTHS of his cruelty.
But that deception was not the only one that’d come out in this reunion with his biological daughter, a revelation that had hit the prince just as hard as his daughters new found hatred for him. As skilled and as potentially powerful as his Starlight was, she had been seven when she was taken. Someone HAD to have been taking care of her all this time. And someone had, a man that Octavia now called her father over Stolas.
Blitz. The man Stolas had been sleeping with, falling in love with. The man who’d held the Prince’s heart in his hands. The man who’d been raising Octavia all these years, keeping her just out of reach from him.
At the time, he’d been FURIOUS. . . And heartbroken. Octavia wanting nothing to do with him had been wound enough, but to know that he had lost her to the man he’d loved, one that had been lying to him all while claiming Stolas’s love?
It took a LOT of pain and anguish in one day to eclipse the failed revolt in Heaven, and the fall that came after. . , But, if there was one thing that could’ve done it, it would be two of his greatest loves. . .
He was jolted from his thoughts by a hand clasping his, a piece of bacon poking his beak. “Look, if you wanted a piece THAT badly, dad. . .” Loona spoke hesitantly, like she was joking, but her eyes clearly broadcast her genuine worry.
He did his best to fake a smile, ease her out of whatever worry he’d inflicted on her Why do you always have to worry her like this? Are you TRYING to drive ANOTHER daughter away? “My apologies, I got lost in my thoughts yet again. Did you say something?”
“I saw you staring. Told you I wasn’t giving up the bacon no matter what. Then you. . . You started looking like you were gonna cry.” Loona poked at his beak with the outstretched bacon again. “I mean. . . I don’t think you’re THAT much of a baby that you’d start crying over not having bacon, but maybe the taste of this will help combat. . . Whatever you’re thinking about.”
His smile became far more genuine. His darling girl truly was the light of his life. His Moonlight. He gently took the offered from her hand, squeezing on her other. “Thank you, dear.” He chewed silently, seeing a little smile forming on her own face. “Forgive my distraction. I’ve much to think about these days.”
“Right, you did say you were done with the census thing.” Loona muttered, taking another piece of bacon from the tray to quietly munch on. “What’s the next thing?”
“Technically, nothing.” Stolas sighed, taking a sip of tea. “I can’t begin looking into suspects too extensively, not without raising the curiosity of their respective Sins. Should they catch wind of my investigations, they may demand an audience to explain myself, and who knows whether or not I will be granted the mercy of said Goetia lord being excluded from said proceedings.”
“I mean, you’re doing all this investigation shit with Asmodeus, ain’t you? Can’t he just got ta bat for you if you get caught?”
“He could, but that in and of itself is a dangerous piece of information to allow out in public.” The Prince almost stood, considering floating his chair around the table so that he might hold his daughter close, but he restrained himself. “Someone out there is working against, at the bare minimum, me. At worst, they may be plotting against the Kingdom of Hell. Unless our mysterious conspirator is a great fool, a scenario I very much doubt given the scope of all this, they will be vigilant, watchful. Were it to come out that I was collaborating with one of the Sins, regardless of whether or the subject of WHAT I was investigating came out, they may panic, begin to destroy evidence or clues that may have once been beneath their need to address. I won’t risk this enemy of mine sinking into the ground to hide.”
Loona shrugged. “Seems you’re being overly cautious, dude. You’re never gonna be able to dig them up unless you start pawing at the dirt.”
“I’ve been alive a very long time, Moonlight. One of the lessons I’ve too often had to learn, is that it is ALWAYS better to overestimate a simple enemy, rather than underestimate a worthy one.” He placed his mug down on the table. “Whoever is moving these pieces on the board, they have the knowledge Metatron. They’ve managed to recreate his power, create a geometric seal that hides those marked with it from even the Sins. They appear to be using a brewing Hellborn rebellion to accomplish their dirty work. I need EVERY advantage I can gain against this enemy, most paramount of which is their ignorance that I am on to them.”
Loona nodded, and he could see it, the understanding. He sometimes wondered. . . She wasn’t legally his child. Technically, she was his hellhound, no better than property (Though NEVER in his own mind and ONLY in the eyes of Hell’s courts.), thus he had never sought to educate her on the intricacies of politics. Though, he’d recently begun teaching her magic, and she’d been doing well. Not well enough to engage in magical duels, but she was on her way that she might become a powerful sorceress one day. He wondered. . . Though she had no claim to ANY political position (One of the reasons he avoided adopting her formally, for her having ANY claim through his connection to a rank would put her in SIGNIFICANT danger.), he wondered if it might be worth it to add politics to her education. She was lacking in such things due to the way Hellhounds were treated, and he could see little flashes of brilliance in her sometimes.
Hmmm. . . Another thought for another time, when he had less on his plate. When this situation was less strenuous, perhaps he might reevaluate things.
“So, you’re just, what? Sitting round, twiddling your thumbs?” Loona asked, her brow raised.
The prince snorted. “Hardly. I could never consider time spend with my dear beloved daughter to be wasted.” He smirked a little as a slew of emotions passed across her face. Surprise and then a blush, on that remained on her face even her face shifted into an annoyed glare. Even still, her tail wagged, betraying her true feelings to her compliment, even if she grabbed at her tail, forcing it into her lap, trying to hide her evident joy.
“For the record, you fucking SUCK!” She sneered, flicking a piece of bacon between her eyes.
He flinched and giggled as he picked up the bacon that had fallen to his plate. “After such a shot, I do believe I can’t say the same for you. What excellent precision!”
‘Fucking STOP!” She cried, covering her face and shoving her tail further into her lap to keeping it from broadcasting her joy.
Stolas was torn. While he did enjoy his daughter’s flustered demeanor, the hellhound’s distress at such simple complements sometimes worried him. He was unsure if she was truly just unused to compliments or whether there was some psychological block keeping her from accepting his high opinion of her. He’d already missed an obvious source of her distress (The believe that he only saw her as a stand in for Octavia.), he DESPERATELY did not wish to exacerbate another trigger that he may or may not be aware of. Perhaps for now, he would be more careful with his praises and watch her carefully, see if this was simple embarrassment or something deeper that he needed to address.
“Alright, alright. My apologies, Moonlight. I’ll stop.” He quickly covered his thoughts with a simple smile, taking a sip of his tea while her face raised from her hand, though still lightly glaring.
“In all seriousness, While I wait for word from either Asmodeus or. . . Lord Lucifer. . .” He cringed a little. Yes, King Lucifer. Though he was typically absent from the public eye these days, he would no doubt want to see Stolas in person for an explanation for WHY the King had heard of EVERYTHING that had come out regarding Octavia’s disappearance from Asmodeus and not Stolas, Lucifer’s own vassal. Yes, that was likely to be a VERY tense day. “While I wait for word from them, I’m partially spending time tracing the alliances and ties of the three Lords of the Ars Goetia who have the geometric skill to produce the seal on Octavia’s neck.”
“Any word from her, by the way?” The hellhound’s blush seemed to be fading as she looked at him with curiosity. “I know you’ve been. . . Hoping she’d call you.”
“Indeed I am. And no, I’ve not spoken to her since the dinner at Asmodeus’s, as was her request.” He answered, taking a sip of tea. “I’ve spoken to. . . To her father though.” Again, a dull pain emerged, referring to another man as her father. . .
He shook his head. Blitz had more than earned that right. All that he’d done for their daughter. He likely had more right to the word then YOU do. “Anyway, Blitz and I have spoken three times since. According to what He’s said, she’s doing well, but she’s not ready to talk yet.” Nor was Blitz, apparently. Stolas. . . Several things had come out of that dinner, not all of them relating to his daughter. . .
He’d known the implications of what Blitz had said about the history he had with Andrealphus and his mother, Baroness Eathelin. He’d suspected heavily that his beloved paramour had been raped. Hearing it confirmed, seeing the pain and shame on the imp’s face. . . It had been difficult to live with that image. And it had only gotten harder when Prince Stolas had taken time to reflect on his own actions. . .
‘You both run around FUCKING whoever you like with no regard for ANYONE else but YOURSELVES!!’
‘Honestly, you came across as what I’ve come to expect from upper pricks. Condescending, only thinking about yourselves, throwing money around like it makes everything you do okay.’
He. . . He greatly owed his love an apology. Yes, he owed the imp a great deal, for guarding and protecting his daughter all these year. But. . . The start of their relationship, which could be rightly boiled down to ‘Have sex with me, or I’ll deprive you of my Grimoire, essentially either crippling your business or forcing you daughter to harm herself with making portals’. On its own, the circumstances at the beginning of what he had with Blitz had already tugged at him, churned his insides. But with this context, with this show of just how broken his love may be. . .
Another poke brought him out of his thoughts. Once again, his beak had a piece of bacon poking at it, his daughter looking at him concerned. “Blitz, Blitzo, whatever he’s called. He’d told you she’s not ready to talk yet?”
“The o is silent.” He responded, automatically, smiling gratefully as he took the offered bacon, his heart warming at the wonderful girl that he’d been blessed with.
Loona shrugged. “Yeah, well, you and Stella call him different names. I don’t know who to say’s right.” She took another piece of bacon, tossing it into her mouth with a pleased moan. “But anyway, so, the long and short of it is that you got nothing going on right now?”
“In essence, yes.” He smirked. He had little to do until Lord Lucifer or Asmodeus called him, gave him his instructions to how to handle this delicate investigation.
“Glad to hear it.” Loona smirked, and Stolas had this feeling he’d just trapped himself in SOMETHING. “Which means, you ain’t got an excuse not ta give your time to me! Clear you’re schedule, you’re MINE today, dad!”
Stolas had to process the words a moment. Once he had, he let out an amused chuckled that evolved into a full blown laugh. He would never not be amazed at his Moonlight. This aggressive and moody hellhound that was able to brighten up his day, his mood, seemingly without even trying. Truly, in all his long centuries of life, and indeed, many more centuries to come, he would NEVER be able to wrap his head around what he’d done to have the blessing that she was. “Oh dear, what a DELIGHTFUL entrapment you’ve spun upon me!” He smiled at her, amusement flooding his thoughts as he took in her victorious smirk. Such a beautiful smile she had. . . “I suppose I’ll merely have finish up my breakfast and submit myself to whatever fate you have in store for me?”
“Damn right you will.” She smirked, chewing a piece of bacon and reaching for another one.
He giggled, leaning forward to rest his chin on her clasped hands. “And you claim not to be a Princess, and yet here you are, making demands of my time like one.”
Loona snorted, snapping a piece of her bacon off and flicking it at him, once again hitting him between the eyes. “How bout I make demands of your mouth, like shut the FUCK up!”
“Hmm, I may need a sizable bribe for that.” The Prince’s eyes shifted over to her plate of bacon.
His daughter’s eyes widened when she caught the direction of his eyes, throwing her arms and body over the tray. “MINE!” She growled, though he could see a smile twitching on her lips. A smile that soon turned into giggles, her laughter drawing out his own.
She was such a special girl, his daughter. Effortless driving away the darkness of his thoughts, the fear at the back of his mind. The name Moonlight would eternally be the most apt description of her. This bright shining point of light in a dark sky. So long as he had her, he could face whatever came for him.