Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

He wasn’t a stalker. He just had routines, that was all. Between clients, he scrolled through a certain Prince’s Sinstagram, even though nothing new had been posted in months. When he saw something that made him laugh, he texted it to one number in particular, even though he never got a response. And on weekends he drove the familiar tangle of highways and country roads out to the Palace, though he never so much as got out of the van.

But he wasn’t a stalker.

If he was being honest, he came around more now than he ever had. He hadn’t paid attention to the phases of the moon in any respect for some time, either. There was a perfectly understandable reason for that, though.

Ever since Verosika’s damn party, Stolas had been…experimenting. Blitz didn’t want to see any of the various demons who now came and went from the Palace (though he couldn’t help at least noting that the same asshole never seemed to show up twice). That wasn’t the problem, though.

No, the problem was that none of these fuckers knew how to be discrete. They didn’t know about the overgrown hedges around back where it was relatively safe to park. They didn’t climb any walls, and they certainly didn’t wait for the coast to be clear. Instead, this parade of idiots parked right out front and used the front door!

Frankly, it was a miracle that it had taken until the third one for a lucky paparazzi to get a picture. Now, barely a day went by without another headline speculating on “Prince Stolas’ Latest Paramore.” Some of the absolute fuckwads had even given interviews afterwards. It was all bullshit, each interview revealing a kink more outlandish than the last.

Kinks that Blitz knew weren’t anything close to what Stolas was into.

So, now he sat in his van sucking down coffee most Friday nights, keeping watch. Any would-be photographers quickly learned not to park on the street if they didn’t want to mysteriously earn themselves four flat tires. A few of the bolder ones tried to infiltrate the Palace grounds—a feat that was far easier than it should have been. No sooner would they find a bush to crouch in, though, then they would be knocked out by an unseen assailant.

It didn’t keep them away for good, but it helped slow the media craze, forcing magazines to recycle old photos to keep the stories going.

Blitz made note of every potential partner he saw go in or out, as well. Verosika’s words kept him from following the fuckers and threatening them, but only just. Still, he hunted down the ones who gave those disgusting interviews. Beating the shit out of them wasn’t jealousy. It was justice.

Word got around, and suddenly it was a lot harder to find anyone stupid enough to give an interview post-encounter with the Prince.

As much as it felt like acid in his veins, Blitz never stopped any of them from going in. He couldn’t. He didn’t have any right to. Besides, that behavior was too close to the person he was trying so hard to leave behind.

Maybe acting as a self-proclaimed guardian angel was hypocritical of him, but at least it was accomplishing something “good.” He could live with that.

This Friday, Blitz pulled into his usual spot a bit earlier than usual. It had been a good day for I.M.P. and he’d rewarded his employees with an early Friday. If they didn’t outright know what he’d been doing, he knew they at least suspected it. That much was clear in the looks M&M shot each other and the way Loona didn’t even bother to ask where he was going when he went out anymore.

Still, no one mentioned it directly. The simple fact that not even Moxxie felt the need to question him lent credence to the idea that Blitz was doing the right thing. Or, at least, something approaching “the right thing.”

At this point, he’d take it.

Blitz settled in with his coffee, knowing it would be a while before either paparazzi or a potential lover arrived. It wasn’t even evening yet, after all.

Stolas was as much of a homebody as ever. Blitz hadn’t seen the owl himself at all since the party. Which could only mean he was finding his hookups on some kind of dating app.

Blitz tried not to think too much about that.

So, when a black, unmarked car that practically reeked of money pulled up to the Palace barely an hour into his self-imposed watch, Blitz stopped doodling abruptly. So far, the people Stolas invited over had been just that, people. No one important or shady. A car like this though…

Blitz groaned, running a hand down his face. Damn it, the idiot had better not have hired an escort. That would be so much harder to keep out of the news cycle. With where he was parked, Blitz could see cars come and go, but it was difficult to see the front driveway itself.

Sliding out of the driver’s seat, Blitz pushed the van door closed with practiced silence. It barely took him a minute to cross the road, scrambling over the security wall and huddling in a leafy bush.

From his new vantage point, Blitz could see that the car was idling. He couldn’t say if anyone had gotten out of it yet, but it didn’t seem like it. Blitz squinted, but all the windows were tinted. Was Stolas going out? Had he hired a driver? But…why not just portal to wherever he was going? He’d always preferred that to actual cars, not that Blitz much blamed him. He was so tall that even the van was a squeeze.

The Palace doors were suddenly flung open and Blitz shrank back into the depths of the bush. Stolas was talking to someone on an antique phone, his butler imp holding the body on a silver tray while Stolas paced back and forth with the receiver.

No, not talking, arguing.

Blitz couldn’t hear the conversation from his hiding place, but Stolas kept throwing his free hand out in clear exasperation. He wasn’t paying attention to what direction he turned as he paced, either. Soon enough he had wrapped the phone cord around his lithe torso several times, though he hardly seemed to notice.

Blitz didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his lungs began to burn. Stolas looked good. He was certainly annoyed, but he looked healthy. He was dressed in a cozy-looking red sweater and gray slacks. He always looked good in red…

“Fine!” Stolas shouted, loud enough for Blitz to hear and drag the imp back to reality. He watched Stolas curse and twirl on the spot to untangle himself from the phone before slamming the receiver down. He spoke to his butler briefly, no doubt giving some kind of parting instructions, before reluctantly turning towards the waiting car.

Stolas hesitated on the steps, positively glaring at the car. Blitz felt like a rock had been dropped into his stomach. Something wasn’t right here. He knew that body language. Stolas was fighting with himself.

He didn’t want to get in the car.

At last, Stolas took a deep breath and blew it out, smoothing his facial feathers into place. Only then did he lift his chin and finally descend the steps, every inch a Prince. The back door of the car sprang open on its own and Stolas ducked down, evidently taking a moment to find a comfortable way to fold his long-ass legs into the vehicle. Then the door slammed shut and the car pulled smoothly away from the Palace.

Blitz waited, heart thumping hard against his rib cage, before he turned and shimmied back over the wall. He started for the van, but stopped. Wherever this car was going, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to tail it in his old clunker. It was hardly inconspicuous.

Instead, he turned and took off running, hugging the shadow cast by the wall surrounding the Palace in the late afternoon light. The car stopped at the end of the lane to turn back onto the main road, and Blitz risked leaving the safety of the shadows.

He was so low he was practically scrambling on all fours across the asphalt. There wasn’t much room beneath the sedan, but it had the advantage of having been built with demons larger than imps in mind. Blitz just managed to slither beneath it, finding any bit of the undercarriage he could grasp with his hands and tail to keep himself balanced.

His horns scraped the road as soon as the car started moving again, spraying sparks and making his entire skull rattle. Blitz swore and fought the instinct to tuck his chin, which would only make the angle worse. Instead he extended his neck, breathing out a sigh when the move gave him the clearance he needed.

He quickly lost track of time after that. In a matter of minutes, his muscles were screaming at him, but long years of practice kept him stubbornly in place. He’d learned the trapeze before he’d learned how to walk, or so his shithead father had always bragged. It was the closest the old man had ever come to praising him.

Blitz tried to distract himself with the mystery of where they were going, but it was useless. All he knew for certain was that they’d spent some time on the highway before taking an exit, after which all sounds of other traffic had quickly died away.

They were probably going to some other rich fuck’s place. Once he’d made that deduction, he’d suffered a small, agonizing eternity of worrying that he’d simply hitched a ride to Stolas’ latest hook-up. That the Prince was finally fucking someone on equal footing.

It was easy enough to banish that uncharitable thought, though. For once, not just because Blitz was deluding himself, either. Stolas had clearly fought with whoever he’d been on the phone with. Wherever Stolas was going, it hadn’t been his choice. That fact alone was more than enough to keep Blitz plastered to the bottom of the car—all night if need be.

Thankfully, his resolve wasn’t tested to quite that extent. The sudden crunch of gravel after miles of smooth asphalt startled the imp so badly he nearly lost his grip. He recovered quickly enough, senses now on full alert. Slowly, the car drew to a stop, and Blitz risked tilting his head enough to see the bottom of an ornate gate between the front wheels. The gold bars swung open after only a moment, and Blitz swiftly readjusted his head to save his horns.

Whatever gravel path they were on now seemed to go on forever, but at long last the car finally drew to a stop, the engine that had been rumbling just above his head going silent as it was cut. Blitz barely dared to breathe as he heard the door open again. He couldn’t risk moving his head and dragging his horns through the gravel, but out of one eye he saw two familiar feet plant themselves in the gravel. He was so close. If he reached out now, he could just brush his fingers against one of those legs…

“What in Hell’s name is so important that I had to come all the way out here tonight?” Stolas asked. He’d clearly been seething the entire trip. The name scratched at Blitz’s memory, but he couldn’t place it other than to say he’d heard it before.

“Your daughter’s birthday isn’t reason enough?” a voice responded in the most annoyingly posh accent Blitz had ever heard.

“Her birthday is tomorrow,” Stolas answered icily. He hadn’t taken a step away from the car. Whoever this was, apparently even Octavia wasn’t enough to make the owl come closer. Blitz would have whistled if he’d had the luxury.

“Actually, our darling Via turns eighteen at the stroke of midnight,” the smug bastard responded. Blitz tightened his tail where it was wrapped around the rear axle in a bid to keep it still upon hearing the nickname that only Stolas had ever used.

“We have our own plans. Tomorrow,” Stolas shot back while Blitz silently cheered. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m here. I knew it couldn’t be anything of actual importance.”

“There are things we should discuss, Stolas,” Smug Bastard drawled. “As a family.”

That made Stolas take a threatening step forward, and good thing too because the scattering of gravel masked the low growl Blitz wasn’t quite able to control.

“Now see here—,” Stolas began, only to fall silent. Blitz couldn’t see, but he couldn’t risk moving either. So it was a shock to hear a familiar voice and realize exactly why Stolas had stopped talking.

“I asked Uncle Andre to call you, Dad,” Octavia said. She didn’t sound like the sullen teenager Blitz remembered, though. If anything, she sounded like “Uncle Andre.” She sounded regal.

She sounded wrong.

“Starfire?” Stolas breathed. Blitz watched Stolas’ feet fidget in place, clearly still torn between going up to whatever fancy house they had arrived at and staying by the relative safety of the car. “I…I don’t understand. Andrealphus, what is this about?”

Whatever was communicated next must have been done with looks more than words, because at last Stolas began to move. Blitz heard the moment displaced gravel was replaced with the soft tap of the talons on Stolas’ feet against stone steps. If anything more was said, it was too quiet to be heard from the driveway.

No one else had ever gotten out of the car. Blitz wasn’t sure if the damn thing was powered by magic or robots or what, but when two solid minutes had passed in eerie silence, he finally lowered himself to the gravel.

Crawling out from beneath the vehicle, he gingerly got to his feet, shaking out his limbs, and twisting his head until his neck gave a satisfying crack. It was only as the ache began to ease from his muscles that he realized how cold the air was. In fact, he could see his breath misting in front of him.

Then he looked up.

The building wasn’t as a grand as the Palace, but it didn’t look like a house, either. If anything, it looked like a castle. A castle made of solid ice.

No one had noticed him so far, and indeed he would have said the place looked deserted if he didn’t know for a fact that at least three people were inside, if not more. Most of the security was probably focused down at the gate. That was the way these rich fucks thought. Only one primary line of defense.

Still, Blitz scanned for cameras or hellhound guards as he followed in Stolas’ wake. When he reached the steps, he let his tail drag over the stone, a shiver shooting up his spine. Despite the blue color, it was stone, not the ice it appeared to be. It was still colder than it should have been, though. Blitz tugged his suitcoat closer around him and skirted around the side of the building when he’d reached the top of the stairs.

Dumb rich douchebag or not, he wasn’t about to go in through the front door. It wasn’t hard to find a frosted window that had been left cracked open. He only had to nudge it open an inch or so more before he had enough room to slip inside.

If the outside had been chilly, the inside was downright freezing.

He’d slipped into some odd arrangement of armchairs in an alcove off the main hall that he felt sure Stolas would have called a “reading nook.” Voices echoed down the otherwise empty hall and Blitz made his way toward them, using the ornate columns lining the hallway as cover.

The hall opened onto some kind of viewing balcony for whatever was below. Blitz could just see a series of red banners hanging along the opposite edge. Each one had a yellow, reptilian-looking eye emblazoned on it and the fabric sported patches of blue-white where it was visibly stiff with frost.

Slipping behind the last of the columns, Blitz dared to peek around it. His hiding place was still outside of the dim circle of light extending from the observation room, or whatever it was. Stolas had stopped with his back to him, but Blitz caught his first good look of the other two.

Octavia looked much as he remembered her, though it seemed to Blitz that she had grown somehow. It took a moment for him to recognize that she simply wasn’t slouching her shoulders, standing at her full height instead. At least she hadn’t turned in her beanie and hoodie for any more pompous attire.

Speaking of pompous, the word fit Andrealphus like a glove. He was literally a peacock, for one thing. His piercing turquoise eyes were a perfect contrast to his snow-white feathers, feathers that were so long and expertly preened that it was hard to tell where they stopped and his sweeping white robes began. He looked positively otherworldly, and seemed well aware of the fact.

Then he opened his beak again and being able to match his stuck-up accent with his appearance set such instant dislike aflame within Blitz that it was all he could do not to sink his claws into the column he was hiding behind.

“In light of certain…recent events, it seemed prudent to speed up Via’s magical studies,” Andrealphus was saying.

“Excuse me?” Stolas demanded, visibly bristling. Blitz couldn’t help but silently agree.

“It’s all right, Dad,” Octavia said, a bit too calmly. There was something off about the way she kept talking to Stolas, but Blitz couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. “Uncle Andre’s a really good teacher.”

“That’s hardly the issue, Starfire,” Stolas sighed. He massaged his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand before forcing himself to straighten again. “We agreed on your learning syllabus long ago. Because you said you wanted to have a normal life, and I wanted that for you, too.” When Octavia remained silent, her father shook his head. “I’m not upset if you’ve changed your mind, Via. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t have come to me to discuss it.”

“Maybe because you never seem to have time between making the headlines with your newest conquests,” a new voice rang out down the hall. Another damn rich-ass bird stepped up to join them. This one was wearing a red suit that complimented his red and purple plumage, a yellow visor perched on his beak.

Blitz found the newcomer’s sudden appearance less interesting than Andrealphus’ reaction. Andrealphus actually huffed, casting the newbie a withering glare.

“Vassago, not in front of Via, if you’d please,” Andrealphus complained.

“Why?” Vassago challenged, seemingly equally fed up with all three of them. Or maybe that was just his face. “What we decide here tonight will affect her more than anyone else.”

This time Andrealphus outright groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. Whatever the parrot-looking-fuck meant, it seemed to be news to Octavia. Her eyes had gone huge, darting between her father and her uncle a few times before she found her voice.

“What does he mean?” she asked at last, the angle of her body directing the question more at Andrealphus than Stolas. It was only then that Blitz realized what had been wrong with her voice before. She’d sounded emotionless. Untouchable.

Like her uncle. Or Stolas, when he used his Princeliness as a shield against the world.

Vassago opened his beak again, red eyes practically sparkling behind his visor. Before he could utter a word, though, Andrealphus pointed a finger at him almost absent-mindedly. Blitz was a bit too far away to see exactly what happened. All he knew was that the temperature in the hall seemed to drop another ten degrees and Vassago’s beak snapped shut, those smug eyes suddenly wide in a mixture of hurt and barely-suppressed panic.

“Via will be coming of age tonight,” Andrealphus said, regaining some of his statuesque air now that Vassago had been delt with. “It raises possibilities that weren’t open to us before.”

The silence that rang through the hall was loud enough to make Blitz’s head hurt. For one terrible instant he thought the peacock’s icy gaze had fallen on him, his entire body locking up in response, but then Andrealphus turned with a sweep of feathers and robes and Blitz remembered how to breathe.

Damn dramatic bitch.

“Oh, come now, do I really have to join all the dots for you?” Andrealphus asked with a tired sigh, stepping forward to gaze down at whatever was below the stone railing. Both father and daughter had gone stiff. Andrealphus glanced at them both over his shoulder. He almost looked disappointed.

“Fine,” he muttered, spinning back around to face them again. “You,” he said, jabbing a finger in Stolas’ direction, “are an embarrassment to the Goetian name. The imp was bad enough, but at least then you had the sense to be discrete. This latest parade of commoners is utterly beneath you. Have you taken leave of your senses entirely?!”

Andrealphus blinked, seemingly surprised at himself for having raised his voice. He visibly drew back, smoothing a hand over his head feathers. “If this was your first transgression, that would be one thing, but I’m afraid it’s more the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Stolas sputtered for a moment before he seemed to remember how to form actual words. “I’m sorry? They don’t— I just wanted— And what does it matter anyway?!” Stolas finally exploded. “I’ve always been the black sheep of this family, Andrealphus. Do you truly believe I wasn’t made aware of that from a very young age? I’ve given Stella everything she asked for and more in the divorce. What more do you want?”

Blitz gripped the edge of the column until his fingers went numb from the freezing stone. He wanted to jump out and defend Stolas. Or at least tell the pompous fuck where he could stick it. There was a time not so long ago when he would have done exactly that without another thought, in fact.

Now, though, his gaze caught on Octavia despite his rising anger. The teenager was staring at her feet, arms wrapped around herself and her shoulders hiked up at a more familiar angle. One hand kept twitching upwards, and Blitz suddenly remembered the way she’d tried to pull her beanie down almost over her entire face at Loo Loo Land. She kept stopping herself, though, forcing herself to grip her forearm instead.

Blitz swallowed, reminded of the imagined safety of hiding beneath a stained tablecloth.

“Via is now more than proficient in her studies to fulfill her duties as heir, if necessary,” Andrealphus said, lifting his chin so arrogantly that Blitz couldn’t swallow back his growl in time. Luckily, Stolas covered it with a mirthless laugh.

“Need I remind you that Via is a precautionary heir?” Stolas said, throwing both of his arms in the air. Octavia had lifted her head at her uncle’s words, but upon hearing those words went back to looking like she wanted to disappear. Blitz couldn’t blame her. He was no stranger to listening to people talk about him like he wasn’t standing there listening.

It sucked.

“The terms of such precautions don’t only include your death, Stolas,” Andrealphus retorted, narrowing his piercing gaze. “There are also provisions under which you could be declared unfit. In which case, Via would assume your role as Princess of the Ars Goetia.”

Stolas took half a step back. Even without being able to see his face, Blitz knew his mind would be going a mile a second, trying to wrap itself around just what the peacock had apparently been planning.

“You would have her usurp me?” Stolas finally asked. Octavia winced at the word, which was all the proof Blitz needed that she hadn’t been a knowing participant in any of this. Stolas didn’t seem to notice, though.

“You’ve overstepped, Andrealphus,” Stolas sneered, all sickly-sweet fake-pleasantries now. Blitz winced, not liking where this was going one bit. “You know as well as I do that your sister and I were thrown together by our parents! It’s no small miracle that I survived living under the same roof with her for as long as I did! You want to punish me for divorcing her, fine, but leave my daughter out of it!”

He made to grab for Octavia’s hand, but the teenager moved for the first time, sidestepping his grab.

“Octavia!” Stolas nearly shouted. He started to reach for her again, but froze when Octavia lifted her head at last. Silent tears overflowed from her magenta eyes, her entire face crumpling in pain. Blitz sucked in air through his teeth, his own heart clenching in the face of such raw emotion.

“You hate Mother now, but I didn’t think you always did,” she sobbed, hugging herself tighter as she took another step back, firmly placing herself out of Stolas’ reach. “What does that make me? The product of hate?”

“NO!” Stolas denied, shaking his head. “No, no, Via, never! I love you!” Stolas’ voice cracked in a way that told Blitz he was crying now, too, but the owl pushed on. “I’ve always loved you. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible!”

Octavia clearly wasn’t buying it, but she was crying too hard to argue, now. All she could do was shake her head in denial.

“Via,” Stolas begged. He made to step forward, and that was when Octavia found her voice again.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Blitz winced. Well, there was some of her mother in her if she could screech like that. In fact, it seemed to have taken all three of the adults around her by surprise. Even Andrealphus was giving her a disquieted look now.

Vassago made some kind of muffled noise of complaint. Andrealphus gave him a warning glance but waved his hand. At once, Vassago’s beak snapped open. He took a moment to rub his sharply curved beak, eyeing the standoff between father and daughter warily.

“For the record, I wanted to convene a full trial, but Andrealphus insisted on trying to reason with you more privately, first,” Vassago said. He snapped his fingers and an imp—of course it was an imp—suddenly appeared pushing a small cart. There was a covered silver platter atop it, and something told Blitz it wasn’t fucking dinner. The imp stopped the cart beside Vassago, pausing long enough to curtsy before fleeing back to wherever she’d come from.

“We can settle this peacefully, without having to put it to a vote,” Vassago reasoned.

Stolas finally tore his gaze away from his distraught daughter long enough to look at the parrot. Blitz’s heart ached as he watched Stolas slowly take in the mysterious cart and finally turn back to Andrealphus.

“Stop this,” Stolas begged, brushing his fingers over his eyes. “Andrealphus, please. We may not have always seen eye to eye, but you’ve always cared for Via. If you still do, if she’s not just a tool to you, then don’t do this.”

Blitz bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep himself quiet. The poor girl was still crying right in front of him, and Stolas was still talking about her! Sometimes he could be so…so…

“How dense are you?” Andrealphus spat, and Blitz hated that he agreed with the peacock. “Can you really not see that every word you say is another barb? Don’t you think about anyone but yourself? Honestly!”

“Anyone but.... Of course I think about her! Every decision I’ve made since she was hatched has been with her best interests in mind! That’s why this has to stop, Andrealphus. The one thing I never wanted was for her to have a life like mine! Dictated by everyone else and utterly out of her control!”

“What do you think my life is?!” Octavia cried, wiping uselessly at her eyes. “When have you ever asked my opinion about anything?!” She sniffed hard and forced herself to stand tall once more, her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. The tears hadn’t stopped, but they weren’t stemming her words any longer.

“You think you know what’s best for everyone, but when have you ever stopped to ask? You just…decide things! And we’re all supposed to be okay with it!” Octavia threw her arms up and she’d look so much like Stolas if she wasn’t angling her head the same way Andrealphus did, her neck held at an unnaturally stiff angle. “It’s like you don’t even see me anymore. Just this idealized version of me you made up when I was a kid!”

Blitz’s tail lashed behind him, but the truth was he agreed with her every word. He glanced down at the Asmodean crystal still imbedded in his glove. He’d never asked for the damn thing. Stolas has just decided it was the best thing to do, and wouldn’t stop for five minutes to let Blitz process why, for Satan’s sake.

That was a mistake, as it turned out. Ruminating on that disastrous fight made him lose track of himself. His tail swung wider than he meant for it to, connecting with the other end of the column.

He ducked back out of sight, holding his breath, but the damage was done and he knew it.

“It would go easier on all of us if you revealed yourself, you know,” Andrealphus’ cool voice called out.

Shit.

Blitz closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before pushing away from the column at last, stepping neatly around it.

“Blitz?” Stolas gasped. At least he sounded more surprised than angry.

“Uh…I can explain?” Blitz said, trying for a disarming smile. A chill enveloped the tip of his tail, the cold quickly morphing into pain. He tried to turn, barely catching a glimpse of the sensitive flared end encased in a block of ice. Then he was being unceremoniously hoisted into the air by the appendage, his lower back screaming in protest.

“Fuck—shit—put me down!” Blitz gasped. The world spun sickeningly, faces and colors swirling past him in a nauseating blur. When he jolted to a stop, he let himself simply hang while he waited for his eyes to refocus.

He almost wished he’d kept them closed.

From behind the column, he’d suspected the observation room the others were talking in must look down at something high class fucks would want to watch. A “theatre.” Or a gladiator pit. Instead, his stomach flipped as he realized he was suspended in open air, staring down at a frozen lake.

Blitz was no stranger to heights, but this was a lethal drop with no safety net.

“Shitshitshit!” He scrambled for the balustrade, claws barely scratching the edge. He tried to swing himself, almost swimming in the air, but it was no use. He couldn’t secure a grip that would save him if he was dropped.

Long fingers wrapped around his wrists, making Blitz jerk his head up. Stolas… Stolas had grabbed his wrists. Oddly enough, they were at eye level with one another like this. Tears still clung to the feathers around both sets of the Prince’s eyes, but the only expression on Stolas’ face at the moment was one of fear.

Blitz wasn’t sure if it was the look or the touch that made his heart lock up.

“That is Lake Cocytus,” Andrealphus drawled, almost sounding bored. “My home is built on a cliff above it. The souls of human traitors are trapped within for all eternity. A fitting end for an imp who doesn’t know his place, wouldn’t you say?”

Stolas’ hands tightened around Blitz’s wrists. Blitz abandoned the stone and twisted his hands to grip the owl’s thin wrists in turn. True fear clogged his throat in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Not since an inferno of his own making had taken everything from him. To his shame, he could feel the sting of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“That’s enough,” Stolas gritted out, turning to glare at Andrealphus over his shoulder.

The peacock frowned, looking like a child who’d been told to put his toys away. He waved a hand though.

The strain on his tail vanished and for one heart stopping second, Blitz was weightless. His stomach flipped and he didn’t even have the breath to call out. Then he was enveloped in a haze of warm purple, stopping him dead before he’d fallen more than an inch.

This time, Blitz didn’t fight the magic suspending him. Stolas never let go of his wrists, stepping back until the frozen lake was well behind them before the magic righted Blitz and gently guided his boots to the floor. The purple faded away. They remained that way for an endless moment, staring at each other with their hands still gripping one another’s wrists.

Vassago cleared his throat and Stolas broke their hold as if he’d been burned. Blitz swallowed, ducking his head to inspect the tip of his tail in a bid to hide how much the reaction stung.

“Why are you always here when no one wants you?” Octavia suddenly demanded.

Blitz only sighed and dropped his tail. “Story of my life, sweetie.”

“Oh,” Andrealphus chimed in, “so he’s the one, is he?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Blitz challenged, straightening up and turning to the infuriating peacock, his freed tail lashing behind him as he balled his fists at his sides. Andrealphus didn’t answer right away, simply looking him over with a critical eye. Blitz braced himself for whatever he’d say next. It couldn’t be anything he hadn’t heard before, after all.

“You’re more interesting than I imagined,” Andrealphus said at last. The simple observation was almost enough to bank the embers of Blitz’s annoyance.

Almost, but not quite.

“He’s just an asshole,” Octavia grumped, folding her arms and looking away. That had Blitz spinning on his heel to glare up at her.

“Yeah, same to you, Princess,” he spat. “Speaking of, the fuck is all this, huh? You plotting with your shitty uncle to murder your dad? Just ‘cause he finally cut loose and decided to have some fun for once in his life?” Octavia’s eyes widened in horror the longer Blitz went on, her shoulders creeping up again. He knew he was stretching the truth, but he was on too much of a roll to feel bad over it.

“And another thing!” Blitz froze at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t squeeze or yank. Just rested there. The fight abruptly left him and he turned. Stolas wasn’t even looking at him, eyes on the stone floor instead.

“That’s enough, Blitz,” Stolas said quietly.

It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. He fell quiet anyway. Once he would have just ignored Stolas, but things were different now. The only thing he wanted now was to avoid causing the owl any more pain than he already had.

“I knew it,” Octavia said, gaining their full attention again. All trace of tears were gone from her face. Cold anger had overshadowed everything else, turning her magenta eyes nearly scarlet. Her glare wasn’t directed at Blitz though. Rather it passed right over his head to bore into her father.

“You never loved Mother, and you don’t love me. You only love him!” she accused.

“No, he doesn’t!”

“No, I don’t!”

They spoke almost in unison. Blitz winced and Stolas quickly withdrew the hand that had still been resting on his shoulder.

“Starfire—,” Stolas began, but Octavia cut him off.

“Don’t ‘Starfire’ me!” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t know what Uncle Andre was planning,” she said at last, shifting her glare to the peacock for a brief moment before aiming it at Stolas once again, “but I’m starting to think he has a point.”

Blitz froze, fighting every instinct screaming at him to look at Stolas. He’d seen Stolas’ heart shatter into pieces in front of him too many times. And this…this would be so much worse.

“It’s not as though I asked for any of this, you know,” Stolas said, his voice muffled in a way that told Blitz he was holding back tears. Don’t look. Don’t look.

He looked.

Stolas had wrapped his long arms around himself, shoulders hunched and those impossibly long legs bent at the knees. He was visibly trying to make himself smaller. Blitz ached to reach for him, but held himself back. He didn’t have any right to try and comfort Stolas. Not anymore.

“I didn’t ask to be born a Prince. I’ve never wanted it. Not once,” Stolas admitted, shaking his head.

“That’s no excuse,” Vassago said flatly. He planted his hands on his hips, clearly unimpressed. “You were given every advantage in life, as befits one of your station. Advantages that I’m sure someone like him would kill for,” he added, gesturing to Blitz.

The imp could only glance away, guilt crawling up his throat like acid.

“But no, you’d rather throw it all away, and for what?” Vassago finished.

“For a chance at real love!” Stolas burst out, hugging himself tighter at the admission.

“When will you grow up?” Andrealphus asked, clicking his beak. “Love is fleeting. Power is forever. Just ask him.” He nodded at Blitz, who was starting to wish he’d been left to splat against the frozen lake after all.

“You’ve had to fight tooth and nail for every tiny step forward, haven’t you?” Andrealphus continued, cocking his head at Blitz. His gaze seemed to see inside of Blitz’s skull and he ducked his head in response, his chin dug into his shoulder. “So, Blitz, was it? Did love make your struggles any easier?”

Blitz clenched his hands at his sides, gritting his teeth to keep his mouth shut. The question was an obvious trap, and he wasn’t playing. His mother, Barbie, Fizz, Verosika, even Stolas…they’d all made things bearable for a time. Eventually, though, everyone left. Even Loona would leave him, someday. Who would he have left then?

“Just…what is it that you actually want from me, Andrealphus?” Stolas asked, his voice almost a whisper. He sounded so terribly alone, despite standing barely two feet away. It might as well have been two miles for all Blitz could do about it, though.

“Before all this mess with the tabloids, I would have been content for you to simply agree to retreat from the public eye for a time,” Andrealphus admitted, sounding actually pained over it. “When I called you here tonight, that was still my intention, despite Vassago’s opinions,” he added pointedly when the parrot opened his mouth again.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Blitz dared to pick his head up, frowning at the untouched cart that had been wheeled in. It was a loaded gun, just waiting for someone to reach for it. Whatever it was—probably another fucking book knowing his luck—it couldn’t be anything good. The longer he stared, the more impatient he became, until he couldn’t stand one more uneasy second.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Blitz pointed out. “That’s what you were gonna do. From what I heard, the plan’s changed though, hasn’t it?”

“My, but you are rather astute, aren’t you?” Andrealphus’ praise made Blitz’s skin crawl. “I think I’m starting to see what so attracted you, Stolas. Even to an imp.”

“Just answer the fucking question!” Blitz growled, once again refusing to turn and look at Stolas’ reaction.

“Very well,” Andrealphus sighed. “Unfortunately, Prince Stolas’ reputation can no longer be salvaged. As such, it’s in the best interest of the Goetia family and the greater good of Hell itself for his daughter, Octavia, to cede the throne instead.”

At long last, Vassago removed the silver cover from the tray on the cart. Blitz had to crane his neck a bit to see. A long dagger sat on the silver plate—or, at least, it would be a dagger to any of the avian demons around him. In Blitz’s hands it would be more like a short sword. The blade was pitch black, the sharpened edges a decorative crimson.

The way both Stolas and Octavia gasped told Blitz it was more than just a fancy looking sword.

“Someone wanna fill me in?” Blitz asked when it became clear no one else was going to ask. Again. Honestly, he was starting to think it was a good thing he’d been caught. No one else seemed interested in actually talking about shit.

“It’s had many names over the millennia,” Andrealphus said, giving the blade a distasteful look. “In the end, though, the name that stuck was one humans came up with. The Vorpal Blade.” He narrowed his eyes in obvious disgust at that fact.

“What, is it magic or some shit?” Blitz said, folding his arms. He was getting sick of having to ask the obvious questions.

“More the opposite, actually,” Vassago piped up. Out of all of them, he was the only one who actually looked excited. That fact alone was enough to kick up the queasy feeling in Blitz’s gut again.

“The blade actually siphons magical abilities from anyone it pierces,” the parrot went on, picking the dagger up. Andrealphus, Stolas, and Octavia all flinched back in unison. Blitz, on the other hand, had never been able to so much as master a human disguise. If there was any magic in him, it had been burned away a long time ago.

Vassago was either the same, or simply didn’t care.

“It isn’t capable of actually killing a Goetia,” Vassago added sternly, looking down his beak at Blitz, as if he expected the imp to lunge for the weapon. “Even so, most would be devastated enough to be severed from their magic. It’s like losing a sense—going deaf or blind. Or so I’m told,” he added, a touch too hastily.

“It’s so small, though,” Blitz said with a frown. He knew better than most that size rarely mattered when it came to weapons, especially those effective against the Goetia. A dagger the same size of angelic make would be deadly.

Vassago blinked behind his visor, exchanging a glance with Andrealphus. Blitz narrowed his gaze, practically daring the parrot-prick to call him “astute” again. Lucky for him, Vassago dropped the subject and moved on.

“There are accounts that the blade has stripped demons of all their power it the past, but most are considered highly exaggerated. While it can certainly weaken a demon, the amount of time it would have to be embedded in the flesh to diminish a truly powerful demon is simply unrealistic,” Vassago said. “These days, it serves more of a ceremonial purpose than anything else.”

Blitz couldn’t help it, he thought of Stolas. Not as he was now, but the way he was when they first met. An excitable kid, so damn proud of his magic book and all the things he was going to do with it. Most demons had a varying degree of magical abilities, but Stolas was different.

Stolas was magic.

Blitz turned to the Prince in question. He was still halfway curled up on himself, wide eyes darting between the knife, Andrealphus, and Octavia. When he caught Blitz looking, he glanced at the imp. The moment their eyes locked, Blitz felt his heart drop into his boots. He’d never seen Stolas look so defeated.

“You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” Blitz asked before he could stop himself. “You’re the Prince here, not them—they’ve been saying so all night. You don’t have to roll over and take this!”

Stolas drew in a shuddering breath, gaze flicking back to Octavia.

“Maybe it’s…for the best?” Stolas tried.

“My red-and-white ass!” Blitz exploded. “You said so yourself, you didn’t want her to deal with the shit you’ve had to deal with! You want her to have a shitty arranged marriage to some asshole just to pop out a kid?”

It was the wrong thing to say, but so was everything else at this point.

“I don’t see how any decision I make concerns you one way or the other at this point, Blitz,” Stolas said coldly. Blitz was almost glad for the anger. At least Stolas still had some fight left in him.

“Yeah? Well, it sure as shit doesn’t concern them, either!” Blitz cried, jerking a thumb at Andrealphus and Vassago. “Ooh, they’re gonna call a family meeting and vote, I’m so fucking scared. Who cares? No, really, who the fuck cares?! You’re the Prince, Stolas, what don’t you get about that? Forget what these jealous bitches say. The fact is, you make the rules, not them!”

“It’s not that simple—oh, why do I even bother? You’ll never understand,” Stolas sighed, rubbing at his temple again.

“So make me understand it!” Blitz challenged. “You always do that. Always think I won’t get it. How do you know if you never try? Those two chucklefucks think I’m smart!”

“For an imp,” Vassago muttered.

“Still counts!” Blitz shot back without missing a beat.

“Blitz, how many times—” Stolas began, but Blitz was ready for him this time.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t look down on me. You’re right, you keep saying it, but you don’t show it!” Blitz’s voice echoed through the icy halls as he stood there, chest heaving and tail lashing behind him.

“I’m an asshole, alright? I know! I don’t think before I talk. I lash out and push people away. I’m so painfully aware by now, Stolas.” He paced restlessly back and forth a few times before settling again a few steps to the right of where he’d started, his back to Vassago and Andrealphus now as he glared up at Stolas.

“You think I want to be this way? It’s just easier, okay? It’s easier to hurt people a little bit than wait until I inevitably ruin them. That way, even if they walk away from me, at least they’re still walking!”

“If you’re trying to excuse your atrocious behavior the last time we talked—”

“Bitch, you were so drunk you don’t even remember the last time we talked!”

That seemed to draw Stolas up short. The owl blinked a few times, clearly shifting through memories that were more than a little fuzzy.

“You know, I got to that party in time to hear you sing,” Blitz blurted, not quite ready for the room’s attention to wander off them just yet.

“I…y-you never said!" Stolas spluttered, his face instantly red. Octavia groaned, and it was the first time all night she’d truly sounded like herself. Blitz had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

“Enough!” Andrealphus thundered. Stolas and Octavia both flinched, but Blitz didn’t move.

“I’ll say. I know what you said before, but you were always planning to go through with this no matter what happened tonight, right Andre?” Blitz asked without turning around. “It just woulda been easier if at least Octavia sided with you. Or am I reading the room wrong?”

The peacock didn’t respond, and that was all the answer Blitz needed.

Blitz suddenly wrapped his tail around Vassago’s arm, tugging as he spun around. The parrot’s skull connected with his own, the knife slipping out of his grasp to clatter on the floor. Blitz snatched it up and kicked the dazed avian away, holding the knife—he’d been right, it was more a sword to him—pointed at Andrealphus.

“Octavia, get out of here,” he barked. “Did he teach you how to open portals?”

“The castle’s enchanted,” Stolas said, sounding as dazed as Vassago looked. That explained the car. Of fucking course. Blitz glanced back at the teenager, meeting her wide stare.

“Then run,” Blitz said. “Run until you’re far enough away to open a portal and then go straight to Loona, you hear me?” For a moment Blitz thought she was going to argue with him, but after a final look at her father she relented and fled. Blitz blew out a breath, adjusting his hold on the sword.

“You should go, too, Stolas,” Blitz said.

“This is my family, Blitz. I’m staying,” Stolas argued, stepping up to stand beside him. Blitz glanced up at him, flashing a grin that seemed to take the owl by surprise.

“How’d I know you were gonna say that?” Blitz asked. Stolas flushed ridiculously again, which only made Blitz laugh in sheer delight. Oh, the adrenaline was definitely pumping now, and about time, too!

“Are you both quite finished?” Andrealphus asked, apparently not at all phased by what had just happened. He was keeping his eyes on that sword, though, Blitz noted.

“Almost,” Blitz grinned. He reached into his jacket with his free hand. His modified flintlock would do fuck-all against a Goetia in the long run, but it would buy them some time. Indeed, Andrealphus was blown back several feet when the bullet struck, though he managed to remain upright long enough to avoid being laid out flat, dropping to his knees instead.

“Blitz!” Stolas cried, somewhere between horrified and awestruck.

“He’ll be fine,” Blitz dismissed, darting to the balustrade he’d been desperately clawing at earlier. The drop was still sickening, and the decorative banners hung around the opening weren’t nearly long enough to make a difference. “If we jump, can you keep us from breaking our necks?” he asked bluntly.

“Jump! I don’t…” Stolas began. Andrealphus groaned. Stolas shut his beak, assessing the distance with a keen eye. “Oh, if we must,” he relented at last.

Blitz nearly yelped as an arm wound around his waist, pulling him in close. His heart was suddenly in his throat as Stolas straightened up. Blitz wrapped his free arm and tail around Stolas in turn as his boots left the ground.

“Now hold on tight, and watch where you swing that thing,” Stolas instructed, giving the sword a wary glance. Blitz didn’t even get the chance to reply before Stolas leapt.

And then they were falling.

Blitz felt the same warm tingle he’d felt earlier as his vision was engulfed in a film of purple. Their descent slowed considerably, but didn’t stop. Blitz wasn’t surprised. He’d seen Stolas levitate plenty of objects with his magic, but usually much smaller and lighter things. He’d never used it on Blitz until today, nor had Blitz ever seen Stolas use it on himself.

When he looked to the owl, he wasn’t surprised to see all four of his eyes scrunched tightly closed in obvious concentration. This was clearly putting a strain on him. Blitz could work with that, though, He was the fighter between the two of them. He’d only wanted to put distance between themselves and Andrealphus, not to mention draw him in the opposite direction from Octavia. As long as Stolas got them safely onto the ice, Blitz could handle the rest.

Blitz looked down, relieved to find the distance not so dizzying any longer. He guessed they’d reach the surface in another minute or so, if Stolas didn’t slow them further. Tipping his head back, Blitz followed the sheer face of a cliff to the dwindling hole in the castle above them. Andrealphus hadn’t been exaggerating. The whole thing was built so that the ass end hung out into space.

He was just wondering if magic or some trick of the architecture made that possible when movement caught his eye. Something sparkled in the late afternoon light. Something that was growing larger at an alarming rate. Blitz shielded his eyes with the flat of the blade, careful to keep the point well away from Stolas.

Slowly, he recognized the form of Andrealphus, standing atop what looked like a platform of ice. Blitz looked down again, but they were still too far up. Andrealphus was coming too fast.

“Shit, here he comes,” Blitz shouted above the wind.

“Huh?” Stolas’ eyes popped open and suddenly their descent picked up speed.

“Stolas!” Blitz yelped, stomach flipping with their sudden drop. Purple engulfed them again as Stolas managed to regain control. His eyes were closed again, brow furrowed even more than before. Blitz checked Andrealphus and was actually relieved to find their slip seemed to have thrown off the peacock’s own trajectory, forcing him to swing around to adjust.

“What about—?” Stolas shouted.

“Let me worry about him! You just make sure we don’t turn into pancakes!”

“Lovely.”

“Oh, admit it, you missed me!”

Blitz lost another year off his life as they suddenly hit freefall again. Stolas recovered much more quickly this time, however. Blitz blinked at the owl in surprise, but decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.

It would be just like him to get them killed with a dirty joke, though.

By the time they reached the ice, Stolas’ legs crumpled beneath him. Blitz just barely managed to catch his balance, ending up with Stolas sprawled beside him, long arms looped around his waist.

Andrealphus had made up his lost time, too, and was speeding towards them like a bullet. Blitz git his teeth and angled his body to shield as much of Stolas as possible, aiming the sword at Andrealphus’ chest.

“Let’s go, you frigid bitch!” Blitz shouted in challenge. If he could get in a few good hits, or even one, it might be enough to even the playing field. Vassago had said the blade sucked up magic. If he could just slow Andrealphus down…

Andrealphus veered to Blitz’s right at the last second, just beyond the reach of the sword. Blitz tried to swipe at him anyway. He caught sight of the spinning disc of ice concealed in Andrealphus’ wake too late to react.

Then the world exploded in pain.

Stolas’ head was pounding. The levitation spell was one of his favorites, and one that he used daily. It was not, however, intended to bear such weight, nor for such a long time.

He’d misjudged the force of their landing, too. He’d managed to adjust before Blitz’s shorter legs touched down. His own, on the other hand, had not been able to bear the force. Most of the damage had been done to his joints and pelvis rather than the leg bones themselves, and he could already feel his body knitting itself back together.

Still, he wasn’t getting up on his own anytime soon.

An icy wind blew past them, Andrealphus finally catching up with them, and Stolas closed his eyes as his feathers were blown in every direction. His arms tightened around Blitz’s waist automatically, the imp the only thing keeping his upper body upright at the moment.

There was a terrible clang a few feet away from them and then Blitz was swearing under his breath and pushing Stolas’ arms away. Stolas didn’t want to let go. He’d missed this. Missed it terribly. How solid and warm Blitz was against him. The scent of cinnamon and gunpowder that clung to him. Even his crass and blunt way of speaking.

Stolas had missed him.

His hands were finally dislodged, forcing Stolas to catch himself on the ice itself. The lake had been frozen for so long that it wasn’t particularly slick, but his left palm still slid a few inches. It took his sluggish brain far too long to realize that his fingers were wet.

Stolas shook his head in a bid to clear it. Blitz needed him to have a clear head. Andrealphus was more powerful than the imp seemed to realize. He forced himself to take a deep breath of frigid air, fighting back the pounding in his head. When he was sure he wasn’t about to be sick, he blinked his eyes open to stare down at the ice beneath him.

The nausea returned tenfold.

His left hand had left a clear smear in a growing puddle of black blood. A puddle that was spreading around Blitz’s boots at an alarming rate. Stolas swallowed hard, forcing himself to lift his head.

Blitz was fidgeting with something, wrapping it around his right arm. Stolas’ brain was sluggish in identifying it as the imp’s belt. Blitz had one end of it in his teeth, putting tight while his claws scratched a new hole for the buckle in the faux leather. He was applying a tourniquet.

Almost in a daze, Stolas scanned the ice. He knew what he’d find, but he still gasped to see the Vorpal Blade laying abandoned several feet away, an all too familiar gloved hand still grasping the handle.

“You needn’t lose anything further if you step aside now!” Andrealphus called. He’d circled back around and was floating on his platform of ice before them now. He had enough distance and height for another pass, but Stolas suspected that wasn’t the only reason he was keeping his distance. He correctly saw Blitz as a threat, even weakened as he was. Stolas found he couldn’t take any comfort from the thought.

Blitz growled, spitting the belt out of his mouth as he finally secured it.

“I’ll believe that when I see it!” Blitz shouted over the wind. He flexed his tail and Stolas knew he was testing to see if he could reach the sword, but it was too far. Blitz could reach it in seconds if he wanted. He pulled out his gun instead.

Moving now would leave Stolas exposed.

“You know you can’t hurt me with that,” Andrealphus said. Despite their distance, he wasn’t shouting. His voice reached them just as easily as it had in the castle. He must be amplifying it through the cold air, Stolas thought wildly.

Blitz, on the other hand, wasn’t a magical being. He could out-shout the best of them, though.

“How about if I peg you in the eye!” Blitz challenged, his toothy grin erasing all doubt as to the double entendre that would surely go over Andrealphus’ head. “Bet even a Goetia would have a bitch of a time picking a bullet out of their own brain!”

“What are you really hoping to accomplish here, imp?” Andrealphus spat. Stolas couldn’t remember a time he’d actually heard his ex-brother-in-law truly angry. Leave it to Blitz to touch a nerve. “You must realize by now that your affair is over. He said he doesn’t love you, and this pointless act of self-sacrifice won’t change that!”

Stolas winced to hear his own words weaponized in such a way. He’d said it, yes, but to reassure his daughter of her own place in his heart. Not because…because…

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time! Like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

The frigid air suddenly turned to a hundred piercing needles in Stolas’ lungs. Blitz’s own words from months ago haunted him. He’d been so quick to assume Blitz was lumping him in with the likes of Stella and Andrealphus and every royal who had laughed behind his back—or straight to his face—over the years. So quick to let the association prick his heart, because hadn’t he proved he was different from them?

When he tried to think back on it now, though, it was hard to think of an example of something he’d done for Blitz that didn’t somehow circle back to their arrangement. Was it really any surprise that the Asmodean crystal had come as such a shock, then, well intentioned or not?

“See, that’s the difference between you and me!” Present-day Blitz broke into Stolas’ thoughts, making the owl look up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t want shit from Stolas!” Stolas started to lower his gaze again, only to freeze when the imp went on.

“I know this’ll be a difficult concept for you, but I don’t believe in taking anyone’s freedom away. Least of all Stolas’ freedom! That’s worth fighting for! He’s worth fighting for! He deserves so much better than me, but he also deserves so much better than you and your shitty family!”

The memory was indeed very fuzzy, but he recalled Blitz saying something like that to him at that abhorrent party. That he deserved better. Blitz’s form was starting to blur as Stolas’ eyes stung with the threat of yet more tears. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though.

Blitz…

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t seem to make a sound around the lump in his throat. How had they gotten here? How had he let things go this far? How had he never stopped to consider he might have read things wrong, not before the crystal, but after?

“I wouldn’t expect an imp to understand the duties of his station—,” Andrealphus began, but Blitz had apparently heard enough.

“Fuck you! And fuck that!” Blitz screamed. “Stolas is a fucking person! With hopes and dreams and fucking feelings! Admit it! He's twice what you will ever be and you just can't handle that, can you?!”

Stolas hung his head, hot tears dripping onto his fingers. They were practically scalding in the cold, but he ignored them. What an unforgivable fool he was. He’d wanted…something. Some grand romantic gesture to prove that he was desired. Wanted. Loved.

Well he had it, now. Here was the man he’d once—no, still—loved, using his very body as a shield to keep Stolas safe. Even maimed and bleeding, Blitz wouldn’t back down. Not until he was dead. And all the while he was defending Stolas, with no expectation that it would change anything between them.

If this scene were a chapter in one of his romance books, it would have been one that Stolas re-read until he could recite it from memory, enraptured by the lengths to which the hero would go to prove his love.

Now that he was being presented with the real thing, though, Stolas only felt ill. He didn’t want Blitz to be bloodied and broken. He didn’t want him to put himself in mortal danger. He didn’t want any of this! And for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he ever had in the first place.

“I tire of this,” Andrealphus said, even his sigh reaching them on the wind. Stolas’ head shot up again, already knowing what was coming next. “I gave you the chance to walk away, but my patience wears thin, imp.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page!” Blitz growled, cocking his gun.

Stolas was moving before either of them. Fear always drew his Eldritch form to the surface. More often than not, he refused it. He’d indulged when he’d learned Octavia was lost in the mortal realm, however. And when Blitz was being held captive there, as well.

He didn’t fight it this time, either. All of his senses sharpened as muscle and bone melted into something ethereal. The scent of Blitz’s blood was sharp and only made his new form swell as fear was replaced with white-hot rage.

A single beat of his black-and-red wings sent him rocketing through the air. He had the space of a second to enjoy the genuine fear on Andrealphus’ face before they crashed into one another. Andrealphus tried to conjure up a shell of ice to protect himself, but it shattered like glass beneath Stolas’ claws.

Wings became arms in the space of a thought and Stolas wrapped his talons around Andrealphus’ throat with a grim sense of satisfaction.

“Stolas!”

Blitz’s voice was like an electric shock. Stolas’ grip slackened, allowing Andrealphus to cough and gasp for air. The peacock took advantage of the moment, summoning a spear of ice and plunging it into Stolas’ side.

It didn’t truly hurt, but he roared all the same. Rearing back, he raised his arm, prepared to crush the arrogant bastard’s skull.

“STOLAS! Fucking damn it! Stop!”

The crack of a gunshot split the air and Stolas’ left shoulder phased out of being as a bullet whizzed through it.

“I’m the killer here, not you!” Blitz shouted. Stolas turned, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Blitz’s voice was growing closer.

Blitz was running towards them, or trying to. He’d lost too much blood and it was making his steps waver, slowing him down. He stopped, breathing hard, when he realized he had Stolas’ attention. He raised the gun again. Stolas noted that his hand was shaking, spoiling his aim.

“I’m not letting you live with that weight! Not you!” Blitz gasped desperately. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath after his run. The adrenaline had kept him going for a while, but it was wearing off now. He was going into shock.

Blitz lost his grip on his gun altogether, swearing as it dropped onto the ice. He crashed to his knees a moment later, hugging his injured arm close.

Andrealphus forgotten, Stolas swept towards the fallen imp. Blitz shielded his face with his uninjured arm, but he needn’t have worried. Swirls of black and red dispersed like smoke, giving way until Stolas was left to kneel on the ice in his original form, wrapping his arms around Blitz in a crushing embrace.

“Dad!”

“DAD!”

Stolas looked up at the twin cries, but only for a moment. Octavia had done as promised. She and Loona raced through a portal that had been opened on the lake’s far bank, flanked by two more familiar imps.

“Looney?” Blitz slurred into Stolas’ sweater.

“Octavia found her, like you asked,” Stolas assured him, trying and failing to keep his voice from wavering. “And your two employees are with them, too.” He spared the group another glance, relieved to see the Grimoire in Octavia’s grasp. It wasn’t intended for healing, but he knew it would have something to at least close Blitz’s wound.

That wouldn’t do anything for the tremendous amount of blood he’d lost, though.

“M&M,” Blitz murmured. “Never gonna hear the end of this one.”

“What you did was incredibly valiant,” Stolas said defensively, not willing to entertain even the idea that anyone would find fault in Blitz’s actions. “My knight in shining armor.”

Blitz didn’t respond. Not even with a huff. Heart in his throat, Stolas repositioned them so he was cradling Blitz in his arms instead of crushing him against his chest. The move let in more of the chill, and Blitz whined.

“Darling, you have to stay awake,” Stolas begged, not even registering the term of endearment. “Talk to me, Blitz.”

“’Bout what?” Blitz asked. His eyes fluttered but only barely opened.

“Anything,” Stolas said, rubbing Blitz’s uninjured arm briskly in a bid to warm him up. “Just keep talking.” Stolas glanced up again. The group hardly looked any closer. Damn this lake and damn Andrealphus for building his forsaken castle over it.

Stolas didn’t realize he was crying again until a tear dripped off the end of his beak. It landed on Blitz’s scarred cheek where it slowly rolled down his face.

“I really did hear you sing, ya know,” Blitz mumbled. His mind must be drifting back to their earlier “argument.”

“So you said,” Stolas encouraged, taking up Blitz’s intact wrist to feel for his pulse. His skin was as cold as the ice beneath them, and Stolas knew that wasn’t just from the environment. Blitz was usually a living furnace.

“You sounded real pretty,” Blitz continued, blinking a few times until he seemed to find the strength to focus on Stolas’ face. “Never heard you sing before.”

Stolas opened his mouth at that, only to close it again. Music had been a part of his life for so long. Octavia had found solace in it. Stella had hated it. Had he really never shared something so important with Blitz?

“I’ll sing for you again if you stay awake,” Stolas promised, gripping Blitz’s icy hand in his. His pulse was far too weak and thready. Blitz’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t return the grip, either.

“Was a sad song, though,” Blitz sighed. Stolas winced at that. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the heart-shaped insignia on Blitz’s forehead.

“I’ll only sing happy songs for you from now on,” he whispered. He’d promise Blitz the moon itself right now, if it would just keep the imp with him.

Blitz twitched his head in a way that was probably supposed to be a shake. “Sing what you want. ‘S pretty, even if it hurts…”

Blitz’s eyes fluttered shut and didn’t open again. The others were finally nearing them, the imps breaking off to investigate Andrealphus’ fallen form while their daughters made a beeline for them. Octavia was already flipping through the Grimoire as she ran, tears dripping down her face. Loona, meanwhile, was baring her teeth, ears flat against her head.

Stolas took all of this in peripherally. All of it background noise as he shook Blitz in his arms.

“Blitz? Blitz, open your eyes.” He shook harder, but still got no response. Help was only steps away. Stolas refused to believe that after all of this, it could have come too late.

“BLITZ!”

“Heard ya the first time,” Blitz grumbled without opening his eyes. “Can’t a guy sleep?”

Stolas could only let out a broken sob in response, curling over Blitz’s form protectively.

“Just a few minutes longer,” he begged, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stay with me for just a few more minutes.”

“’M not goin’ anywhere,” Blitz whispered.