Chapter Text
Another painfully slow day. You yawned, leaning back in your chair, your hands busying themselves with a little pet project. If your grandmother was here, she would have scolded you for doing something so unprofessional. That woman and her rules, sometimes you almost missed her constant pointless nagging about maintaining proper business etiquette. Pointless since no one even so much spared a passing glance at this sad excuse of a store, and yet she had always held her head high, taking pride in the little shop, no matter how unpopular it was. You glanced at the clock on the wall, watching the minute hand slowly tick by. Everything in this store was old. The floors, the walls, the paint that desperately needed a new coat, the register that sometimes locked up and had to hit a couple of times to get it open.
Not even low tier thugs bothered with a place like this, that’s how unpopular it was. It was so sad that no one even tried to rob it, you saw more crime happen at a local drug store than here, that’s pretty pathetic. You sigh, tugging at the last stitch in what you’d been working on, and you smile as you finish up, placing the sewing needle in a pincushion. You hold up the long red coat, the ends being a darker maroon color, along with the straps. On the back you stitched in a golden phoenix with long luxurious feathers, sitting perched on a flowering branch. Despite never having much business, your grandmother was adamant in your lessons, and despite never needing them, you were grateful for it. You could make neat designs like these for yourself.
“That’s a keeper. I wonder if she would’ve approved.” You laugh to yourself, putting your new coat down on the counter, allowing yourself a stretch. You’d robotically opened up the store, dusted all the surfaces, and redressed the bust displays in the window, before sitting down behind the counter, knowing no one would step foot inside. Yet you still routinely did this, wanting to honor the woman who took care of you, by keeping the shop open for as long as you could. Which wouldn’t be much longer now. Soon you know the shop would go broke, and you’d have to give up the space. Surely she would understand wouldn’t she? She’s not going to come back as a vengeful spirit and curse you is she? You wouldn’t put it past her.
You were in the middle of a nice stretch, when the shop door slammed open almost violently, the bell atop nearly flying off its perch. You nearly fell off your chair, being completely caught off guard by the sudden crash. Peeking over the corner you're more shocked than you are scared. A demon. Standing in your shop now was a demon, his bright red hair being almost as stunning as his red eyes. He wasn’t very tall, but he had a good couple inches on you, and he had a sleek frame, his black shirt outlined hints of muscle. He had these tiny black shades that sat on the bridge of his nose, serving absolutely no functional purpose. His ears were noticeably pointed, a telltale sign of demon heritage, and his lips were pulled in a scowl, showing sharpened teeth, his hands shoved in his pants pockets. What was a demon doing in your shop? Especially such an obviously moody demon like this one? You swallow to clear your throat.
“Welcome, is there uh, something you’re looking for today?” It’s been so long since you greeted a customer, you felt almost awkward asking what he wanted. The demon turned to you, his eyes previously scanning and judging the state of the shop now judging you. His red eyes were calculating and intimidating, a pang of fear settling in your stomach as he stared at you. Despite being nervous, you give him a friendly smile, hoping maybe he would hurry with his business. After a minute of just staring he sighs, and you almost jumped at the sudden sound.
“Listen well, peasant, because I will only say this once.” He walks over to the counter and you have to stop yourself from immediately stepping back as he approaches. Just because he’s a demon and obviously glaring at you, doesn’t mean he’s violent… right? He places a hand to his chest dramatically. “I am Red Son, heir to the Demon Bull family and only child of the Demon Bull King.” He announced proudly. Was that… important? Something about ‘Demon Bull’ vaguely rings a bell but you can’t say exactly why, so you just give a small ‘oh’. Obviously he wasn’t really expecting you to verbally respond, since he continues to monologue, crossing his arms. “You see while I am brilliant, far more so than your tiny mind can comprehend, there are things I… don’t bother myself with.” That pause made you believe that he’d been searching for the right words. Words that didn’t indicate he couldn’t do something, or had trouble with.
“Is one of those things, uh, sewing?” You rub your neck awkwardly, and you swear you can see his eyes glow for a second, before he smirks at you, the sharp teeth he had making it look much more feral and unhinged.
“Correct, peasant. Thankfully you don’t seem as slow as most humans, so far at least.” Wow, he not only insulted you, but your entire race. What was his deal? Calling you a peasant? Who even uses that word anymore? If he wasn’t a demon and sort of cute you would’ve already dropped your friendly customer service smile. “You see, I have far more important matters to attend to, so I leave such trivial things such as clothing to my servants.” Oh, he had servants? Was he some kind of rich kid? That would explain his… unique personality.
“I see. But if clothing is the issue, aren’t there other shops you could choose from?” You ask, this shop being just a speck compared to other larger clothing brand companies. Red Son sighs, rubbing his temple with a scowl on his lips.
“You would think that would be the case, but apparently as times change, all the competent tailors have been overtaken by cheap garbage. The things you humans consider ‘fashionable’ are pitiable at best.” You felt the corner of your lip twitch as you strained to keep a smile, even when he gives you a once over and scoffs. Jerk.
“I see. Did your ‘servants’ not find anything you liked?” You try to make conversation, seeing as this guy really enjoys talking, or monologuing really. He sighs, a hand on his hip.
“You’re sharp for a peasant. Yes, I sent my servants to find me new clothing, but they returned with such disgusting excuses for clothes, you’d think they’d be smarter, seeing as it was I who built them.” Something about this guy was starting to get frustratingly familiar. Red hair, arrogant attitude, handsome, and liked making robots… It was on the very tip of your tongue! “Apparently the only worthwhile tailors these days dwell in small hovels like this.” He gestures to the shop and your hand clenched at your side. You know this shop was pretty beat up, but hearing someone else bad mouth it made it hard to hold your tongue. He didn’t seem to notice your frustration as he continued. “So, I have been looking for a worthy new tailor, but despite my efforts, all of them have come short of my expectations.” He sneered and the corners of his mouth had small flames burst forth, like an angry dragon.
It all suddenly clicked, the hazy memory sharpened into focus. You remembered being told by your grandmother how an ancient hero sealed the Demon Bull King under a mountain, saving the world from destruction, but there were tales that his family were still lurking, plotting to revive their monarch. She used to scare you with those stories, whenever you were being bad she’d tell you, ‘Careful, or the bull family will take you away and gobble you whole!’. Now that threat seemed very very possible. This demon, Red Son, claimed he was that monster's child! Meaning he was most definitely dangerous. He opens his mouth again, but his eye catches something, and you follow his gaze to the red coat you’d set aside. Without even asking he grabs it, holding it up to give it a once over. He arched a brow, his thumb rubbing over the golden thread on the back.
“Hmm, this is decent.” He mutters, before turning his eyes to you. “Where is the tailor who made this?” You swallowed, fidgeting with your fingers nervously.
“R-Right here. I um… made it.” You explained and he arches a brow, looking around the shop, as if to check if you were lying before turning back to you.
“You made this? By yourself?” He questions and you nod. Did you not look like you did? Well usually the one who made the clothes doesn’t run the register like this, but you’re the only employee here. Well technically you’re the boss and not the employee, but you know the demon didn’t really care. He huffs before tossing the coat back onto the counter. “This is acceptable. Be grateful, not many have the privilege of being hired by a prince.” He smirks and you gulp. While normally you were grateful for any customers, you felt incredibly uncomfortable with the thought of working with this one. “You start immediately. This coat you’ve made, it pleases me, so you’ll make me one just like it, but with a different design.” He commands and you blink. Wait, he wanted you to start right now? As in this very second?! When you just stand there he frowns and crosses his arms, you see his ponytail flare behind him. Even his hair can turn into fire?! “Are you ignoring me?” He snaps and you break out of your daze.
“N-No! I was just s-surprised is all!” You wave your hands before quickly bending down to find the little measuring tape you hardly ever used. “Um, right this way.. Uh what would you like me to call you?” He said he was a prince but did he want you to call him ‘your highness’?
“You have special permission to use my name. You should feel honored.” Oh you feel something alright. You lead him to the back where there were three full length mirrors set up, and a small stand that he’d step on. You pull the curtain closed, and try not to look as nervous as you felt.
“Right, please step onto the stand and we can begin.” He just scoffs, before muttering something under his breath, you were half listening as you stretched out the tape measure, pressing one end to his wrist extending to his shoulder. His skin was incredibly warm, for a human it’d be concerning how hot it was, but as a fire demon this must be normal for him. You only touched him for a moment but he violently jerks, whirling back on you in a split second.
“What are you doing, peasant?!” He snaps, and you flinch back as well, his hair and eyes flaring up in a violent manner. “Just who and where do you think you’re touching?!”
You blinked before swallowing, bowing your head.
“I-I’m sorry, I need to take your measurements, so your clothes will fit.” You stuttered, terrified this monster was going to burn you and this shop down. You’d read being burned alive was one of the most painful ways to die, and you really don’t want to see if that was true or not. It’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder if he was going to just say ‘fuck it’ and roast you when the heat you felt faded.
“You should have told me that first, peasant girl.” He scoffs, and you look up, seeing his eyes and hair return to normal. He sighs and holds out his arm for you, an invitation, you realize. So you quietly get back to work, checking the length from his wrist to shoulder before wrapping the tape around his arm to measure the width. You continue like that, jotting down the numbers on a little notepad, with him completely silent, neither of you looking at the other. You noticed he shuddered a few times, whenever your hands rested on his skin, and you chalked it up to him trying not to lose his temper.
“Um, I’m nearly done, but now I need to take the front measurements. Could you please lift your arms?” He just sighs and you quickly make your way in front of him, moving the tape behind him, doing your best not to accidentally hug him as you get it around his body. Despite being skinny he had a wide chest and broad shoulders, which again was surprising since he looked like a nerdy shut in. You also noticed he smelled a bit. Not bad, it was just noticeable. It was sort of like metal? You don’t know how, you just know it makes you think of metal. He did mention he built robots, so the metallic hints made sense, but it was overwhelmed by the scent of smoke. Not cigarette smoke, more like campfire smoke. It was… nice? You tried not to think too much about it as you nervously raised your hands to his neck, for the last measurement.
It was a little closer than you would’ve liked, but while your eyes were checking tiny numbers, his eyes were darting all over, taking in all the little details he could see of your face. The color of your eyes being much clearer, the slight flush to your cheeks, the color of your slightly parted lips as you focused on your task. He could smell something faintly like lavender, mixed with the sweetness of vanilla, was that you? No one except his mother had dared get this close to him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Your hands had been cold on his skin, perhaps that was just because of his high body temperature or maybe your fingertips were frigid, but the moment he’d felt them on his skin, it had sent a jolt through his entire body. He could tell you were nervous around him, as you should be, but he’d seen something else cross your expression before, when he’d been talking about this shop. It had almost looked like… anger? Ridiculous, truly, a human getting attitude with a demon? Ha! Yet he’d seen the briefest of emotion in your eyes, and it had… intrigued him. Perhaps that’s why he bothered to allow you to live after daring to touch him.
“All done.” He blinks before looking away, wondering why he’d been staring at you in the first place, allowing you to write on your little notepad. “With all your measurements done, I should have your coat ready soon. You mentioned you’d like a different design on the back. Do you happen to have your desired design on you?” Maybe you were actually excited to work on something that wasn’t just for you, since you were talking to him like a normal person. He tapped his chin before turning to the wall. You didn’t know what he was going to do until it was too late, and you gasped as he used his finger to trace, no, burn his design into the wood, leaving a dark mark.
“This is the design. I expect my coat to be done in three days.” What?! Three days?! Is he insane?! He must be.
“What the fuck, asshole?!” You snapped, rushing over to the wall, checking if he really just had used his finger like a heat pen and scorched his weird little drawing into the side of your shop. He had. You felt anger rush through you, who the fuck does he think he is, damaging your grandmothers shop?! You turn to give him a piece of your mind, but your mouth goes dry seeing his hair flaring up, his glowing red eyes staring right at you. You swallow, the air has become very hot. “I-I..” you stutter, taking a step back as he steps forward, until your back is pressed into one of the mirrors. His hand slammed next to your head, caging you in.
“Choose your next words carefully.” He hissed, and you could feel the heat radiating off his hands. You were scared, you’re terrified! What were you thinking, yelling at him like that?! You look into his eyes, fear clearly in yours as your lip trembles.
“I-I… I‘ll have your coat done t-tomorrow.” He stares for a minute, contemplating, before his hair and eyes return to normal, no longer threatening to burn a hole through the ceiling.
“Smart choice, peasant.” He moves away from you, and as he pushes past the curtain, the bell signaling his leave, you sink down to the floor, legs having turned to jelly as your knees give out in fear. You could still feel the residual heat from his anger, and you felt dizzy from the temperature spike. You almost died. It was really sinking in that you’d been uncomfortably close to meeting your end just now, and it was only quick thinking that saved you.
You curled up, head pressing into the floor, your body trembling. A monster, you’d met an actual monster just now, and he’d nearly killed you. So many emotions were thrumming through your body, but you forced yourself to stand, to look at the mark burned into the wall. Better the wall than you. You said you’d have his order finished by tomorrow. You quickly take a picture before moving to grab the red cloth you’d so happily brought in earlier, willing your hands to stop shaking. You needed every spare second you could, you didn’t see what he does to people who disappoint him.
Princess Iron Fan prided herself on being a smart woman, it’s what made her such a formidable foe, and yet when her child stormed into the hall, she was at a loss. She knows his anger well, his constant tantrums being second nature to her, and yet the way his eyes were clouded did not reflect his usual rage. This was… different. New. That’s troubling.
“My son. Where did you go?” She asks and her child actually jolts, as if he hadn’t noticed her there, doubling her concern.
“Mother…I went to find a new tailor.” Despite everything, he didn’t seem angry. If he was simply angry, frustrated, pouting, she wouldn’t bat an eye, but it’s that new glint in his eye, that distant look that had her stiff.
“You found none?”
“No… No, I found one.”
One who’s fury had lit something within him ablaze, that made the dying ember of his heart crackle with new warmth. What was this feeling? What did you do to him? Why didn’t he hate it? Just who was this peasant?