Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Magic has a price.

Especially Goetian magic. Goetia means “demonic” magic, more or less. Ars Goetia is a description, not a surname. It means people who practice it, and it compares to the higher, and far more powerful, angelic Theurgia.

Maybe the Ars Theurgia, the angelic arts, have no prices, ever. They were used to create the universe, after all.

But the greatest spells of the Ars Goetia all have them. It is the reason even the great Sins only have one species in their own Ring, though the species may have different looks. It is like dogs, in a way. A chihuahua and a great Dane are both dogs. A purse-imp and a strappy lad from Wrath are both imps.

The Sins had to give something to create their races. What, no one knows.

No-one dared to ask*.

The price could vary from the mundane (a burnt offering of an animal corpse, or even vegetables) to the hardest to get (a life, willingly given).

But all great magic has a price.

It is why the Ars Goetia, themselves, used it sparingly.

*People wondered about Lucifer, sometimes. If he could still use the ancient arts he was born into. Nobody ever asked.

Blitzø was sick and tired of destroying almost everything he touched.

This was not a new feeling. More an ongoing state of being. Of course, if he went back, like very very back in time, he could pinpoint even this latest fuck-up to his father. It was amazing the ability of Cash Buckzo to just fuck everyone up.

Blitzø supposed it was genetic.

IF, when Stolas’ father had come to ask for a “playmate” for his son, Cash had just found an excuse (and if there was someone who could bullshit his way out of a goetian king, that was Blitzø’s ole dad), then he, Blitzø, would not have known of the book nor how easy it was to rob a certain palace, and as such he wouldn’t have tried to do it again later in life, and he would not have met Stolas again, and an avalanche of bad decisions later, Stolas would not have been without powers, wealth, of his daughter and sleeping on his fucking couch.

But still, in the spirit of taking responsibility for his own shitty decision, Blitzø had to admit that, if his asshole dad had been the spark that lit this fire, he was the one who kept it burning nice and hot.

Yes, the bird had said a lot of flowery words that boiled down to “it is all a consequence of my choice” and Blitzø could see the regret.

Stolas regretted saving his life.

Now, if you did not know Blitzø, you could assume the information would hurt him.

It did not, because frankly, Blitzø agreed with Stolas.

After the Sinsmas fiasco, he needed to find a way to get back to Stolas what was Stolas’.

And there had been only two people in that bullshit “trial” that he could think would help him.

One was there by proxy only. The other was that weird parrot.

“So, the parrot guy? Name is Vassago, he is a duke.”

“What’s a diuk?”

“Duke. D U K E. He is between a king and Stolas in the Ars Goetian hierarchy. I sounded up Ozzie and snooped around. He is known to be a real solid one. Good at seeing the past and future and locating lost objects.”

Blitzø chewed on the chips he and Fizz were munching on like the maniacs they were, his tail swishing behind him.

“So, if you like, lose your phone you call this ‘sago guy?”

Fizz frowned, extending one robotic arm to snatch another of the packages of chips from up high on the shelves. Asmodeus’ kitchen was enormous, but then, it figures. The big cock wasn’t small.

Ah. Pun.

“How would you give him a call without a phone? Nah, they call him if somebody steal their fancy stuff.”

Blitzø nodded, but his mind was fixated on the other part.

Seeing events, past and future.

Past…

“Hey, Fizz, you think you could get me an intro with the guy?”

Point is, he couldn’t stand to see Stolas like this. Stolas wasn’t made for shitty food and laundromats and his cramped apartment (yes, he was working on getting a bigger one, but still, compared to Stolas’ palace? Fucking cramped).

Stolas was made for the stars and for his gardens full of beautiful plants he couldn’t even pronounce the name of. He was made for fine, beautiful things because he, himself, was a fine, beautiful thing.

Blitzø could live among far worse squalor, and he had. He and the others were born in it. But not Stolas.

He loved Stolas.

He had destroyed Stolas’ life.

He had to make it right.

At any price.

Vassago’s palace was… different. Granted, the only palace Blitzø was even a little an expert of was Stolas’, with its high ceiling and grey walls with painting and shit. Vassago’s was all… light. The walls were full of windows which were filled with some kind of fancy-smanchy colored glasses that made patterns when you passed under them. He gotta admit, they were pretty. Blitzø moved his scarred hands over the colors, looking at how his white skin became purple and blue and then red, and for a second he wondered at a life in which he hadn’t scars.

“You wanted to see me?”

The parrot was fancy, like Stolas had been, like Stolas should be. Blitzø’s tail flickered as he took in the clothes and crown-glasses and sharp gaze.

“Yeah. You were the only good one at that fucking bullshit trial.”

A shadow of a smile passed over Vassago’s beak and his eyes crinkled.

“Sì. I agree with you. Pendajo juicio, indeed. Why are you here?”

“I heard you can see the past, right? If I tell you things that have happened for real, things that will show you that Stolas is innocent, can you like, find a way to get Stolas his stuff?”

Vassago frowned. His right hand went to some kind of cube made of glass or crystal or, for what Blitzø knew, pure magic that seemed to have all the colors of the universe inside, moving like water as your eyes shifted over them.

His talons clicked over it. Once. Twice.

Blitzø’s shoulders tensed, his spines bristling.

Then the parrot nodded, just once.

“Come in my office, Mr Blitzo. We can talk.”

“The o is silent.”

A faint smile.

“Ah, lo siento. Mr Blitzø then.”

Blitzø followed Vassago in the office.

Blitzø did two things in the office: stuffed himself with some rather amazing pastries and learnt about the parrot’s magic.

(Also tried not to get a headaches from the colors and lights, it was a tad much)

“Magic has a price, ¿tú entiendes? I can use simple magic to find objects, nao problemo, but to find the kind of happenings you are telling me about, I would need more complex magic. There are prices for it.”

Blitzø spoke, his mouth of course full.

“What prices?”

“Depends on the magic. The most powerful requires a person to be slowly sapped of their life” Vassago looked at Blitzø’s uncomprehending expression and switched. “They drain your life, ¿entiendes? Not all at once, and if the spell is interrupted before the end, the person lives, but they are dangerous.”

Blitzø blinked.

“And you could use what comes out of this spell to ask for a re-trial?”

Vassago frowned. “Sì. We can make it seems as Stolas’… confession was a part of a process to nail Andrealphus and his sister. A necessary lie. Though, if we could show that Andrealphus has been misusing the powers he temporarily has from Stolas’… That would also help. Stolas’ abilities with the stars were unmatched. I have already heard, ha, quejas, complaints, about him.”

Blitzø grinned now, lifting his shoulders up, his tail flickering behind him. “I have a couple of Sins that may be pushing for a re-trial, say, can we ambush him? Like… is it possible to force him into making something that Stolas used to do for, say, Asmodeus, and he’ll do it badly because he is a cuck, and then Asmodeus will complain and boom, you add your stuff about how it was all a power grab by him and his useless sister who tried to have him killed twice and then Stolas gets his stuff back?” Blitzø could feel his smile grow sharp. He looked into Vassago’s eyes.

The parrot’s eyes were wide.

Vassago had never met anyone like this imp.

In his experience, imps were… staff. They scurried around. He wasn’t cruel, he didn’t think, and he tried to treat them well, but they were… servile. Due to being servants.

This imp was anything but. Here he was, plotting the demise of a Marquiss of the Ars Goetia, his orange eyes flaming, his teeth bared and tail lashing behind him.

Vassago had heard… rumors… that Stolas had had a relationship with this imp. He had dismissed it. Imps weren’t… interesting.

Looking at this imp, shoulders straight and fiery eyes, he was starting to reconsider.

The parrot clicked his pen. Stolas used old-fashioned honest-to-Lucifer feathers to write, but this guy was a bit more modern.

“You forgot, I would need a sacrifice, Mr Blitzø?” He was bringing to his mouth some kind of drink Blitzø never had before, but it was fucking tasty. He never complained about free alcohol anyway.

Blitzø snorted. “I have not. You got me.”

Vassago spluttered, the light cocktail going the wrong way. The imp was already jumping over his rock-crystal desk and thumping on his back.

“Hey! Hey, ‘Sago? You alright?!”

Vassago looked up at the imp, Blitzø, his eyes huge.

This imp planned to, to offer himself…

In that moment, Vassago understood Stolas.

He understood Stolas completely.

Still. The parrot took a deep breath. “Absolutely not. I won’t kill you, Mr Blitzø”

Blitzø rolled his eyes and sat on the crystal desk. His boots had left dirt on the pristine surface. Strangely, Vassago didn’t care.

“Chill out. You said the spell can just like, make you weak before killing you right?” Vassago nodded. Well. More or less. “Then can you give me like, a safeword? If I feel myself slipping off, I’ll just call it out.”

The parrot blinked. “That… could work.” A pause. “I’ll… think about your idea, Mr Blitzø, and I’ll let you know.”

The imp smiled and nodded, jumping down the desk. “Yeah,here is my number, text me your answer, uhm?” a scribble on a piece of paper. “thanks for the grub. It was first quality stuff.”

Well, it would be.

“Say my greetings to Stolas.”

“Will do. And don’t worry, I can see myself out. Cya, ‘Sago!”

The imp’s tail wagged, almost a goodbye, before the door closed behind him.

Vassago looked at the dirty desk, and wondered what kind of tornado had come into his life.

Then his beak quirked up even as he massaged his forehead.

He knew his answer already.

The day after, just as he came back from a hit, Blitzø smiled when an unknown number appeared on his phone.

The message read.

“I am willing to go on with the plan. Meeting tomorrow for details? Vassago.”

Blitzø whistled as he jumped into the portal.

Now, he needed to call on Fizz again. The old cock owed Stolas one.

Chapter Text

“Ok, I talked with Ozz, and he said that between him and Bee they can make sure the stars charts will be requested exactly on time, in a month and half or therabout, for the Spring Equinox on Earth… And they can also ensure the peacock doesn’t know it until the week before.”

“You are sure it won’t fall on Via?”

“Nah, she is a minor. It is on that Elsa bitch to make the stuff now, as her guardian. Ozzie told me that, usually, when a goetian is banished the person who gets their duty has like, a grace period, but it is not a rule or anything, just like… being polite and shit. But! With all the bullshit happening with Heaven and the Princess, you know, Lucifer’s Daughter? Well it makes sense for the Sins to want their stars charts. So he and Bee can jump out like, a week before and say ‘by the way we want our shit like usual’, and there is no way the peacock will be able to do it in a week.”

“Stolas would have.”

“Sure, but Stolas is not here, right?”

“We have to make sure he is safe somewhere that week.”

“Ozzie has some contracts that need working on. He could offer a week of consulting work, it is intense stuff… including room and board.”

“… I don’t know what I would do without you, Fizz.”

“You could send me some more booze. Ozzie insists on buying that tasteless bougie stuff. I swear if I have to drink more frizzy Dom-Shit I’ll puke. I like my doms in the bed, not in the bottle, I tried to tell him but no dice. Also, he has some more groveling to do.”

“Thank you still. You know I am always up to kill someone if you need it.”

“Ya ya, I know. Don’t worry. See ya!”

“See ya!”

Blitzø put down the phone, and grinned at nothing.

It was not a nice grin.

The month and half between the beginning of The Plan and the moment when it started were a whirlwind, even more so than usual.

There were shenanigans. Stolas met the Cherubs and the D.H.O.R.K., the latter technically for the second time. He learnt to shoot with a gun and became better with his secretarial duties. He started, by bits and pieces, to adapt. He learnt how to do the laundry (Blitzø was very proud). Blitzø became better at cooking owl-approved food. Stolas learnt how to wash dishes (Blitzø was very proud). They moved in a bigger apartment, this one with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, and there was A Discussion about who got the bedroom that ended with Loona putting her paw down and saying they would fucking share or she would lock them both in. The new bed was big enough for -platonically- sharing it with no issue.

Octavia didn’t call. Or send messages. Or made contact in any way.

Blitzø could see Stolas wasn’t happy. He was muddling through. The meds helped. But he remembered how he had been when he had had all his magic and wealth and stuff. He had been happier then.

Blitzø loved Stolas with everything he had. He hadn’t even thought it was physically possible to feel like this, to be honest. But he was not Stolas. He had seen his momma love his dad, and that hadn’t helped any. He had loved Fizz once, though not like he loved Stolas now, and well, look how it ended.

Love is a fantasy. Love won’t make you happy.

Stolas had just thought so, and he was now realizing he was wrong.

Too late.

Stolas still cared for Blitzø and Blitzø had to leave, had to make it right before Stolas realized his mistake, before Stolas hated him like everyone else.

So, it was on Blitzø, for once, to make it right.

The other great change was, of course, that Millie was put on the back because! There was an impling to come! The revelation had been met with cheers, banners, confetti and gifts.

Blitzø was only sad he would never meet the little tyke.

Because, of course, he had no intention of using Vassago’s safe word.

Vassago had prepared the spell.

He was… excited.

This was a rare spell. In all his years, he had never used it. Finding a willing person for the necessary sacrifice was, in this day and age, impossible. His own sire had bemoaned the “sad state of affair”. Once, he had explained to a much younger Vassago, it was customary to offer imps and hellhounds boons to their families if they would allow themselves to be used for the ritual. Several mafioso’s imp families in Greed got their hooves in the door this way. But the High Queen Lilith had put an end to the custom many, many decades ago.

And nobody, nobody messed with the High Queen.

As such, nobody was willing to fuel the spell anymore. It was complex, and required many calculations and diagrams drawn with precious stones crushed in fine powders and mixed with the blood of exotic species.

What it did not require was the willing partner to be present on the place.

As a matter of fact…

“You draw the circle, like this, sì? And then, you lay down like this, with the red button in your hand. Remember the red button!”

“I’ll remember the fucking red button, ‘Sago. Chill.”

“It is important that the place is of great emotional significance for you, uhm? Very much so. And at the right time. Remember the right time.”

“I have an idea for the place. And yeah, I remember the time, I am booked out. Don’t worry. Nothing will mess this.”

Stolas didn’t want to get used to this.

He didn’t want to, to be happy.

Because if he did, that would mean he would betray his daughter, wouldn’t it?

But the problem was, the more he went on, the more he got used to the day to day of having no powers and no wealth, the more soft tendrils of happiness sneaked from his heart and warmed him inside.

When Blitzø showed him another dishes with rats or voles or rabbits* that he had learnt how to make for him, he couldn’t help the blooming smile on his beak. When Blitzø gave him one of the ridiculous and wonderful “gud job!” stickers for a job well done in the office** he felt so very warm inside he could cry. When Blitzø sang to him at night, softly, to make him sleep, holding him close, he knew that he could have done no other choice.

He missed his things. But every day, he missed them a little less. He had started a little garden in the roof of the new flat they were living in (the rabbits pellets made for wonderful fertilizer). He went with Blitzø to see the stars, Blitzø bringing sandwiches and drinks. He had discovered the joy of second-hands bookstores. There were such jewels to be found there!

{Also, he wanted Blitzø. Carnally. His hormones had returned to him with a vengeance and sharing a bed was not conductive of anything but having the cloacal equivalent of blue balls because Lucifer, he wanted to jump Blitzø’s bones so fucking badly. Always. In the bed, of course, that was easy. But also while Blitzø was cooking, in the shower, in the bloody officer. Oh Lucifer, the office. He had whole chapters about The Office and what he wanted Blitzø to do to him, on which surface and in what positions. Blitzø himself was being a perfect fucking gentleman. Stolas would have liked less gentleman and more fucking but he didn’t know how to ask…}

But he couldn’t get used to the lack of Octavia.

It tore at him, inside. He loved Blitzø so. He was everything he had ever wanted. He loved his darling Starfire too.

Why did it have to be this way?

* Blitzø had started to breed rabbits and rats for him on the roof of the building. Stolas couldn’t even pretend not to be charmed. Stolas had discovered he loved rabbits.

** Stolas kept them all in an envelope, hidden in the lowest drawer. All the office knew they were there.

As their Dastardly Plan went on, Blitzø knew he had Shit To Do. There was a high chance he wouldn’t make through the Ritual after all, so he had to make sure his family was cared for, what with his niece or nephew coming soon.

So, he made a Secondary Plan.

“Hey dad, where is all the golden and silver horse shit you used to have around?”

“Oh? Oh, I had to bring them to clean, they are investment Loony! They need to be cared for.”

-

“Yeah, ok, I can bring you in in some investment portfolio with the big cock, and also with Bee, she seems to like you. It was time you started to think about your old age, Blitzø.”

“What can I say, Fizz, I am getting old, thinking of the end, yadda yadda.”

“Oh, shut up, you are my same age.”

“Well, you ain’t getting any younger neither, jester.”

Muffled sounds of imp fighting

-

“For the inheritance of an Asmodean Crystal Registration you need to fill form number 999-IN-68+1”

“Ooook”

“And then have the three copies stamped by the three offices that are only open between 12:01 and 12:06 on the third and fourth Monday of each month.”

“… oook.”

“and then burn a goat in offering to Asmodeus, and use the ink from the burnt blood to write an essay on why you n-“

Sounds of a cocked pistol

“…or we can do it all for you! Here it is, have a nice day!”

“You too, asshole!”

-

“Oh, Blitzø, Asmodeus has asked me to come with him to review some contracts that are coming due. It would be… rather intense work for a week or so, he offered room and board too. Would it be… alright?”

Blitzø looked at Stolas, and saw the excitement, and tried not to hurt for happy he was to go back to his own place (he wasn’t enough, he would never be enough). He breathed out and smiled.

“Sure, birdie. Have a nice time, and say hi to the big cock and Fizzie from me, uhm?”

“Of course!”

_

“Hey, pay attention gang! Moxxie, you are in charge. I’ll be out for a couple days, I am following a lead about Stolas’ banishment, try not to burn everything while I am away, ‘mkay?”

“Ok, B. Tell us any news!”

“Sure, Blitzø”

“This mean I have the flat for myself? Sweet!”

Blitzø smiled. Everything was going according to plan.

-

The place where the Imp Circus had once stood laid barren, scaffolds of half-begun projects rising from the ashes like zombie from the grave. Nothing has stuck. Not even trash had been thrown in, the place too far from the newer beaten path to make it an easy dump. It stood there, silent, and forlorn.

The red sky loomed over the black ashes. Some tufts of grass hung around, tenacious in spite of everything Hell could throw at it. Blitzø looked around, his eyes smarting from something he knew was not Pride usual air pollution.

His eyes saw other times, when the closed factories had been opened and churning gadgets for the people of Hell, when the circus’ tent rose high over the sky.  He saw the ferris wheel and heard the sound of carousel music. He almost turned, expecting to see old Ian with his organ grinder and cotton candy stall.

No.

He closed his eyes, walking in the ruin of ruins. It smelled wrong. It should smell like fried food and hellhorses and canvas tents.

It shouldn’t smell like dust and nothing.

Blitzø opened his eyes. He didn’t need to look to know the place where his family’s tent had once stood, but the ruins made the path difficult. He stopped where once his mother had hugged him the last time, and then took out the broom he had brough, cleaning a rough circle in the mess.

Thanks Lucifer he wasn’t Stolas-Tall or that would have taken a century.

He used the instruments Vassago had given him, making the precise circle in the ground, divided by five, and then hissed as he prickled his arm and let his blood splash over the expensive bullshit the parrot had given him to mark the spot.

In the end, he laid down, legs and arms spread so they would met the circle, bare handed and bare footed.

Blitzø glanced at the red button, far away, in his coat pocket, and grinned.

Safe words were for other people.

Chapter Text

It felt like floating.

Blitzø was not in pain. It felt… rather nice in fact. Like slowly falling asleep, deeper and deeper, like floating, yes. A bit like flying, perhaps.

Save in his left arm. That hurt. It touched the circle in two parts, so maybe that was the reason. Whatever. The pain felt far away, like Stolas’ beloved stars. It didn’t matter very much.

He looked for what he supposed was the last time at the sky of the Pride’s ring, and then closed his eyes, and breathed out.

The spell was working!

Vassago smiled, happily, as the crystal that would record the Truths of the Past shone. They were focusing on Andrealphus and Stella’s misdeeds. Once, this ritual had been feared by the Ars Goetia in all the Rings of Hell, but now, with the dearth of willing sacrifices, so many of his kin breathed a sigh of relief.

Some more deservingly than other.

 The parrot looked at the crystals shining over the mystic diagrams, and adjusted them with his magic, subtle adjustments that made the recording crystal shine brighter. He smiled, his feathers fluffing up as his crest lifted in pleasure.

This was going so well. He glanced at the buzzer that would tell him if Blitzø had tapped out. He never wanted to hurt the imp.

He rather… liked him.

He hoped he would have a chance to know Blitzø better after this ritual, in fact. The imp seemed full of inner depths.

Lucky Stolas.

The day went on. The place where once the Imp Circus had burnt stood forlorn, the gusts of winds making the factories’ rusted bean, like trees’ broken branches, screech their tireless song.

Somewhere, under the hollow metal trees, over the ashes of the circus, Blitzø’s breath grew hollower and hollower as his heart slowed imperceptibly at every beat.

Even the best plans can meet a snag, something that derail them, like a pebble in a supreme mechanism.

In this case, it was an imp working in the mail department of Asmodeus and Fizzarolli’s residence. Said imp’s name is not important, but in case you are curious, it is Greg. And Greg had a great dream: to own, one day, their own company. They had been listening to Blitzø’s trial, and had been among the ones cheering the most when he had survived.

Greg knew his boss, Fizzarolli, and Blitzø were friends, because Greg was the kind of person who snooped around. So, when they saw a package “From Blitzø, to Fizzarolli” that late afternoon, instead of doing what was policy, what everyone know Fizzarolli preferred to do*, which was opening his packages and mails after his acts, well Greg decided to bring the package up to Fizzarolli’s suite now.

So it was that, when Fizzarolli yawned after his afternoon beauty sleep, as he had a night as Master of Ceremonies for Ozzie’s tonight, and he tended to sleep the afternoon in those cases and went toward his make-up room he found the package.

Now, he could have ignored it, but it was strange enough that there was a package here now instead that when he came back after the act. So he went to look what it was about.

“From Blitzø, to Fizzie.”

Stranger and stranger. Blitzø had never sent him a package before. And Fizz had always been a curious imp.

He opened the package.

Inside, a skull pin and several letters welcomed him. The first one was: “From Blitzø, to Fizzie”

His eyes grew round as he looked at the pin, and alarm bells ran in his mind.

“Fuck fuck fuck… FUCK!”

*What he had always preferred, in fact, ever since he had been the star of only a tiny imp only circus.

Stolas stretched his muscles, yawning as he put aside the last contract he had reviewed for Asmodeus. It had been a busy but rewarding week. And it would add a sizeable amount to his budget! Maybe Blitzø could be persuaded to have him contribute to the family’s expense now, the infuriating (and beloved) creature had been very deaf at any such suggestion…

He glanced at his phone, and frowned, Blitzø had not sent any messages for the the whole day. He ground his beak. There was likely a very logical answer, probably he was in some hit in a far-away place on Earth with no reception. That was likely it. No reason to worr-

Fizzarolli barreled in.

“VASSAGO!” He screeched, a letter and something else in one of his hands.

Stolas blinked. “Uh, no? I am Stolas?”

The imp rolled his eyes. “I FUCKING KNOW WHO YOU ARE. WHERE IS VASSAGO?!”

Stolas looked at him in utter bewilderment. “I… have no idea?”

Fizzarolli hissed. “Shit shit shit.”

He took his phone out and started to dial wildly.

Stolas looked at him, too confused to be alarmed.

And then icy water seeped over his skin, drenching his feather.

 “Vassago? I am Fizzarolli. Yes, the clown I had your number from Asmodeus I gave it to my friend now WHERE IS BLITZØ"

Vassago had barely time to put down the phone, his sensitive ear still ringing, having been reassured he would be able to enter the Sin’s mansion and portaled into Asmodeus’ house. The Sin himself wasn’t present, but there was his partner, the imp Fizzarolli which he had known by fame, and… Stolas.

Stolas, who looked utterly bewildered.

It took less than a second to understand Stolas had no idea what had been happening.

“Where is Blitzø?” Fizzarolli was bouncing on his robotic limbs, his eyes wide, the tails of his hat running up and down. “Tell me where Blitzø is now.”

Vassago looked at the imp, confused. “I… do not know.” He lifted his hands. “Por favor, cálmate. Blitzø came to me and he volunteered to be part of a willing sacrifice for a Great Magic’s Ritual-“ Stolas gasped, looking at him with striken eyes, a hand on his open beak. Stolas had paled under his feather, and was swaying on his feet.  “No! No! I gave him a way out, ver aquì.” He showed the buzzer. “he had a button, sì? He just had to press it, and I would have ended everything! Lo juro, I swear!”

He wasn’t a monster after all. Stolas still looked stricken.

“I don’t know what the fuck a Great Magic is, I do know Blitzø left me and us all a farewell letter, so I don’t think your bitch button would be of interest!”

The two birds turned to Fizzarolli.

It was Vassago’s turn to feel ice coat the calami of his feathers, deep in his skin.

“¡¿Qué estás diciendo?!” He swayed. “No…”

“Yeah so we need to find the asshole, before… shit.” Fizzarolli closed his eyes. “Tell me the fucking magic isn’t going to kill him.”

It was Stolas who answered, and Vassago would remember for the rest of his life the utter dread the once-prince managed to put in two worlds, breathlessness and horror.

“It would.”

-

“So a place that would matter a lot to Blitzø?”

“Sì. Very important, muy… personal.”

“… I know where.”

-

The place was utterly dreadful, and Vassago didn’t care. He ran, Stolas and Fizzarolli with him, following the imp. He ran until he reached a little overhead, and then he smelled the acrid scent of the magic, and saw Blitzø, and heard Stolas’ scream.

Stolas screamed as if somebody was wrenching his lungs from his chest, like his life, not Blitzø’s, was being funneled away. Vassago saw a blur or grey and black and Stolas was in front of them, and then on his knees by Blitzø, and his hands were carefully undoing the circle around the little form, so little, it hadn’t been so small when the imp had come to him with his suggestions and plans, and bless Vassago and his desire to try the old, powerful rituals, bless him because he could see Stolas’ face now, and he had never in all his years seen anguish before.

Stolas was scurrying on his knees, like a mouse, like a rat, uncaring of what a goetia prince, even a banished one, should be, undoing the five points of the circle with his own blood, he had sliced open his palms over some rusty beam to go faster, and Vassago knelt to help with the last two, using his pocket knife to bleed, and then Stolas had Blitzø in his arms and was sobbing, sobbing…

“He is alive. Oh lords oh stars, he is alive.” Stolas pressed his cheek again the imp strange tattoo just as Fizzarolli collapsed by them. And Vassago was kind. He didn’t ask “but for how long?”

-

None of the people who were holding the barely breathing body of Blitzø knew or cared, but in the very moment Stolas broke the last sigil and held his love to his chest, the Seven Sins received the Stars Charts from Andrealphus in the same room where, four months before, Stolas had been put on trial.

They were, for lack of a better term, a mess.

-

Stolas listened, sitting by the bed Fizzarolli ha provided. He was looking at his bandaged hands. He knew they hurt, but he couldn’t feel it. With the corner of his eyes, he could see Blitzø’s chest rising and falling, rising and falling.

His brain spun around what they had just told him.

A whole conspiration for…

He closed his eyes tight for a second, but they opened by themselves, going back to Blitzø’s chest.

Rising and falling. Rising and falling.

“He volunteered. Lo juro, I swear, I wouldn’t have suggested it. He should have used the call off! Pendejos!” Vassago had fallen on a chair. Fizzarolli was curled up in another.

“I believe you.” Stolas heard himself saying. Blitzø would. The absolute idiot. He would.

A beep in Fizzarolli’s phone.

Fizzarolli untangled himself and looked at it, wearily. Then he sighed. “It is Ozzie. He says everyone is pissed at Andrealphus for the messed-up charts.” He spoked tiredly. “he asks for the rest of the evidence against the peacock. Vassago, do you…”

Vassago looked at Fizzarolli, then at Blitzø, and nodded. “Sì. The Crystal had almost finished recording. I’ll… go… send it right now.” He stood. Stolas blinked. What were they doing?!

Fizzarolli looked at him, and his lips hardened in his white face. “Blitzø did everything because of that. I am not… I am not having him doing it for nothing.” He spat, and Stolas just looked, because none of those words made sense at all. “He has to live. Has to. I MUST KILL HIM HIMSELF” Fizzarolli seethed, and even Stolas could see the pain and fear in his eyes.

Vassago portaled out.

Stolas kept looking at Blitzø’s chest.

Some time later, he noticed Fizzarolli had left. There was a letter instead, by his side.

“From Blitzø, to Stolas.”

Stolas stared at it. But it was from Blitzø. Blitzø, who still breathed, barely, on the bed he was sitting on (Stolas didn’t think he could move if he wanted to. He didn’t want to.) So he took it and opened it, and began to read.

Chapter Text

Hi, Stolas

If you are reading this, I am probably dead. I am sorry, I know you… cared, for me. I know this will hurt you. I am very, very sorry for that.

But I know I cannot let you continue living as you did. I saw how unhappy you were, pretty bird. You aren’t made for this life. You are made for stars and beautiful plants and pretty things, pretty like you. And it was all because of me.

I know what you said: that it was the consequence of your choices. And perhaps it was. But they were my choices too, and I know you regretted giving away all your life because of foolish fantasy. Yeah, I watched the camera rolls at Sinsmas after you went rage room on the office. It is ok. I understand, I was never mad because of that.

I agree with you.

I love you, you know. I never told you. I never wanted to put that on you, and what good would it do? But I do. And I had to do something to get… everything… back. Your title and your wealth and your powers.

And your daughter.

I am sick of ruining the life of everyone I love. It is time I do something to put stuff right.

Don’t be angry at ‘Sago. It was my idea not to use the safe word we agreed on. I never planned to use it. I knew what would happen, I am a’ok with that. I planned for this! I sold the more precious pieces of my horses’ collection and put it in investment that will give some nice money for Loony and made a will for both the crystal and the company in Moxxie’s name. They’ll be well cared for.

I have gotten better, see? I can plan for shit now!

With this and the fucked-up stars charts, I bet you’ll have enough proof to get your stuff back. And with me gone, Via’ll come along too. And well, knowing what her mother truly did. Sorry about that, her knowing I mean.

I know this will be hard for you, for a while. But you are immortal, and you have your daughter and shit and you’ll get better. You have learnt you can live without me, and well… I don’t think that is a lesson I can learn, pretty bird. Living without you I mean. And let’s be real, there is no way for an imp and a goetian prince to be together, and you could never be anything but a goetian prince and be happy, and if the only thing I can do is give my life so that you can be happy then well, I could have died for a lot of less good reasons.

Find someone who is worthy of you, will you? One day? The Rings are big, there is for sure somebody like that somewhere.

I don’t know if I would prefer you to forget me or to remember me, sometimes, when the moon is full. But I think you’ll forget me, and you know, I think it will be better for you. Happier.

Well. In either case, thank you for having been in my life, Stolas. I know I made yours worse, and I am so, so sorry for it.

But you made mine so much better, you have no idea.

I love you.

Forever yours

Blitzø

(Text to speech)

Stolas read the words once, twice.

They were all words. He knew them, individually.

They made no sense all together.

His bandaged hand caressed the part where Blitzø had written, or dictated, “You have learnt you can live without me” and wondered, where had Blitzø gotten that impression? Why? Had he been so terrible at showing Blitzø his feelings?

Blitzø had seen him calling what they had a stupid, foolish fantasy and took care of him for months, never saying anything, never faltering. He looked again at the chest, barely rising and failing, and his heart twisted in his chest like it too was too disgusted with Stolas to want to stay with him, like that organ too loathed him as much as he loathed himself.

Had he failed as a, a whatever they were together so much that Blitzø had thought he could be able to, to forget him?

{Like Stella always said, useless, stiff Stolas}

He closed his eyes and, holding the letter, laid on the bed, over the cover, curling around the barely living body there. His beak went to Blitzø’s horns, trying to preen what was not preen-able, and he sobbed. Once.

Then he hid his face into Blitzø’s neck, as he had done so very often in the last months, pressing his beak against the blood vessels there, feeling the heart beating, softly, too softly, and for every one his own gave too great a thump, like it was trying to push Stolas’ own blood into Blitzø’s veins, like they were sharing a circulatory system, and Stolas wished he could, he could link himself in every way to this man and keep him alive, keep him breathing and living…

Stolas stayed there, curled like a shield over Blitzø, for a time he didn’t know, his hands throbbing and his heart screaming in his chest. He kept his eyes shut, aware of nothing but pain and the taste of his own failure.

-

“So, Stella tried to have her husband be killed by an imp… twice?!

“Apparently, sire.”

“AND she gave said imp blessed weapons?!”

“Indeed, a most wretched idea.”

“The nerve of that creature. And Andrealphus, aside from being abysmal at our stars charts, I don’t know what we are going to DO about the future I swear, ugh, he ALSO thought it was a good idea going and getting into debt with Carmilla Carmine, among all the Overlords!”

“That is where the blessed weapons came, apparently. But I doubt those two siblings clumsy grab for powers is worth squabbling with the Overlords. You know, Satan, how Lucifer’s daughter has been taking an interest and…”

“Don’t fucking tell me, Asmodeus. Uuuurgh.”

“Can I remind you, your chakras were SO aligned this morning, it would be a pity to lose the alignment now…”

“Ugh, yes. Yes, you are right. And Stolas’ confession…”

“We were investigating, sire. And that imp was… essential in our investigation, he was the one who willingly sacrificed himself for the spell. It is so very rare, nowadays, to find imps willing to do so.”

“What, for nothing?”

“He… is very dutiful to Stolas. For now, he lives but… He may soon not. The spell, you know.”

“Uhmph. A model imp. I had misjudged him. Very well, I say we give Stolas back his titles, wealth and powers… powers slowly, during a couple months, Bee, you can do it yourself, it won’t do him no good having them yanked in and out that way in less than a year. And we send that Marquiss and his troublesome sister in Wrath. I have some… places… where they will feel Wrath’s heat indeed.”

“You are wise, Sire.”

“We’ll do, Satan.”

_

Vassago looked at the door of Pandemonium closing behind them.

It didn’t feel like a victory.

When he came back to Asmodeus’ palace, and saw Stolas curled like a just-hatched chick around Blitzø’s barely breathing body, it tasted almost like defeat.

He opened his beak, to tell Stolas he was a prince once more, his palace, his wealth, his legions were to be reinstated to him, and his magic too, but the words wouldn’t come.

Stolas hadn’t moved. Not a feather had stirred. He breathed together with Blitzø, curled upon him.

Asmodeus entered the room, and even the Sin’s formidable presence made no difference. They looked at each other, and then at the twin forms on the bed.

Asmodeus breathed out.

“Stolas of the Ars Goetia” He whispered, softly. No changes. “You are being reinstated to your duties, powers, wealth and legions. Your magic shall be given back to you by and by in the next two moons.”

Nothing.

“Your daughter’s custody as well is given back to you. Effective immediately.”

This at least got a reaction. A red eye open, white pupil focusing on Asmodeus. Stolas still didn’t move.

“… is she alright?” The sound was a croak more than anything else.

Vassago and Asmodeus looked at each other.

“… as alright as she was before. She will be brought here.” Asmodeus said, and Vassago could see he was thinking on his feet.

Well. A good idea, likely.

_

Octavia was not happy.

That was nothing new. She hadn’t been happy for months.

But when the enforcers from the Sins, led by some strange flying Baphomet, came in the too cold palace, she was unhappy and bewildered.

They had come into her room, knocking politely. She had opened it, and see a group of burly baphomets and hellhounds with Satan’s insigna.

She had blinked.

This was new.

One of them, a Baphomet, with big round glasses, unrolled a scroll in his hands and cleared his throat and started to intone.

“By order of Satan himself and all the Sins as decided by the Pandemonium, this palace and all it contains are given back to its rightful owner, Prince Stolas of the Ars Goetia, after further investigation proved beyond any shadow of doubt the petty treason of his former wife, Stella, who made two attempts of his life by hiring a hitman.”

Wait, what?

“Furthermore, the selfsame investigation proved also beyond a shadow of doubt that Marquiss Andrealphus of the Ars Goetia, brother of selfsame Stella, both helped his sister conspired to attempt at the life of Prince Stolas and also made false and injurious accusations toward a faithful imp and prince Stolas himself in a conspiracy aimed to get Prince Stolas’ wealth, power and legions to pay off his own debts to Overlords left unnamed.”

Wait, WHAT?!

The Baphomet adjusted his glasses.

“As such it is thereby decided that even custody of Prince Stolas’ heir, Octavia of the Ars Goetia, is given back to her father. Octavia of the Ars Goetia is politely requested to come with the bearer of this missive with enough clothes and toiletries to last for two to three days, as she will come to Asmodeus, Sin of Lust’s palace, where her father is temporarily housed.”

Via stared.

The Baphomet stared. Politely.

A cough was heard from one of the hellhounds.

She closed her beak and blinked. “I… yes. Yes, sure. Just… give me a minute.”

She went to her wardrobe, throwing stuff into a bag. She couldn’t even see. Her mother had done… what? Her uncle? And yet, even as her mind churned the words, no part of her recoiled from them.

She turned to the door, and nodded, holding to her chest the bag and her star pillow. “I am ready” She said, as bravely as she could. She tried not to feel a twinge of excitement, even in the midst of bewilderment and hurt and confusion. She was going to see her dad!

The sounds of screeching were… whatever the opposite of a surprise is. Via sighed.

“I AM NOT LEAVING! THIS IS MY FUCKING HOUSE YOU HEAR ME? MINE! NOT OF MY FUCKING, PATHETIC EX-HUSBAND!”

“Stella, dear…”

“DON’T YOU STELLA-DEAR ME! THIS WAS YOUR OWN FUCKING IDEA ANDREALPHUS! IF WE HAD DONE WHAT I HAD THOUGHT, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD! DEAD, YOU HEAR ME? THAT FUCKING COWBOY ALMOST HAD HIM! BUT NO, YOU HAAAAAD TO BE CLEVERER! I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE! PUT YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME”

“STELLA SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Via stopped at the door of the hall.

Her mother was swatting away hellhounds and baphomets, screeching. Not for the first time, Via was happy she had no magic. Her uncle looked like he had been calmer until a few moments ago, when her mother had admitted in front of everyone…

“Mom. You… tried to have dad killed?” Her voice sounded like a pip to her, like she was still a nestling.

Stella looked at her, and the pure evil in her gaze made her take half a step back. “I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT BEFORE. MAYBE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE GROWN UP TO BE SUCH A PATHETIC WET RAG. YOU USELESS FUCKING CREATURE, THE ONLY GOOD YOU DID IS THAT I COULD STOP PRETENDING I WANTED TO FUCK HIM ONCE YOUR EGG FELL OFF ME.”

Via looked at her mother, then at her uncle. She blinked, and tears fell from her eyes.

But it wasn’t new, was it. It had always been dad who took care of her. Dad who loved her. Who protected her.

Until… Until Uncl-, no, until Andrealphus had conspired against him. That was what the Baphomet had said, wasn’t it? That Andrealphus had conspired against her dad. Using… using Blitzø.

Sitting in the helicopter that would bring her to Lust (she didn’t know why they didn’t portal her, she didn’t care) she curled her knees toward her chest, her star pillow hugged between chest and knees. And then, she started crying.

She had been such an utter, complete fool.

Dimly, Octavia wondered if her dad would ever, ever forgive her.

Or if she was completely, totally alone now.

Chapter Text

Millie,

I am sorry I won’t see the little tyke. I WAS looking forward to becoming an uncle, I swear! It is just… look, remember when we were in that fucking hotel, with that absolute asshole of an infestor demon?  And… I told you I ruin everything I touch, and you told me I didn’t ruin yours?

I am glad I didn’t, Mills, I really am.

But I did ruin Stolas’.

I love him. And I just, I couldn’t stand to live knowing how bloody miserable he was. You saw it. And this way, I planned it, between me, ‘Sago, you know the good parrot at the trial, and Fizz, and Asmodeus and Bee… it could work.

But I had to go all the way in. There was no other way.

I am glad I was your best friend. You were mine. You are going to have a fantastic life with Mox and the baby, I just know it.

I have made sure you and Mox are taken care of. The Crystal goes to Mox now, and so goes I.M.P. . You’ll have enough money for your family. Take care of Loona for me, will you?

Attached is another horse plushie, because you can never have enough horse plushie.

Tell the little one of me. Tell them I would have loved them if I could have.

Loved you, sister.

Signed

Blitzø

(speech to text)

Mox,

I am sorry buddy. I know this will make it harder for you. I made sure you’ll have I.M.P. and the crystal, so you’ll be fine, eventually. You’ll be able to take care of Mills and the little tyke. I know you’ll do a fantastic job.

I couldn’t stand the idea of destroying Stolas’ life, you see. Could you stand thinking you had done the same to Mills? Yeah, I didn’t think so. You have been a great friend to me, and without your help there would have been no I.M.P. so, thank you.

Attached a CD of some fucking good music because the little one can’t be brought up on musical’s only, Christ on a stick Mox let them listen to something else. It is the discography of Spirit and Mustang Dong. Good stuff.

Please, take care of Loony for me.

I loved you, brother.

Signed,

Blitzø

(speech to text)

My beloved Loony,

This is the hardest one to write, or speak, or whatever. I know you won’t understand, I am not asking you to. I am telling you, it is not Stolas’ fault, it is mine. I did this whole clusterfuck when I went for the book, and then later on it just snowballed and here we are.

I don’t know, perhaps there was a way to stop this, or perhaps not. But I cannot live making the life of the people I love worse.

I’ll tell you a story, Loony, one that I was too chicken to tell you when I was, well. Alive. It is about how I got my scars. Remember I grew up in a circus? It was the same circus of Fizzarolli. I was in love with him then. I was around… twenty something I think. It was his birthday, and I wanted to tell him. I had written him a letter. But I saw my old man, who is a downright bastard, give him a note saying he wished Fizz was his son, and everyone was around cheering him up, and… I got angry.

Fizz was the good one you know. The one everyone loved. Me, I fucking sucked as a performer. Yeah yeah you can laugh, your old man, the failed clown.

So I turned away and pushed the guy who was bringing in the cake with the lit candle. The candle fell down, and set fire to the tent. My dad stored our fireworks inside the same tent and they set off.

The fire… it was everywhere. Fizz… he lost his limbs, and you have seen the scars. My scars, too.

My mother was… sick. She was often sick. Our family tent caught fire. I tried, but she didn’t make out.

She died. My sister, my twin sister, never forgave me. I don’t think I ever forgave myself. I destroyed all my family that day.

I can’t destroy the life of more people I love Loony. I just can’

So, I had to do this.

I am sorry. I know this will be hard for you. Just so you know, adopting you was the best decision of my life. I have sold the valuable horses merch, and invested in some good stuff of Ozz and Fizz. You’ll have some cash. I know it isn’t the same as having a dad, but it is something, isn’t it?

I love you, my girl. Thank you for having been in my life.

Your dad,

Blitzø

(speech to text)

Octavia was the first to arrive.

Stolas lifted himself from Blitzø’s bed, and looked at her. Whatever of his heart that wasn’t already a wrung-out rag squeezed more. His poor little Starfire looked… bewildered. Her eyes were open huge, and she was hugging her star pillow like a shield. Her beak was trembling.

Stolas stood, unsure on his feet, and opened his arms to her. He hadn’t seen her for three months.

It didn’t matter.

Via looked at him, tears falling from her eyes, and then the star pillow fell on the ground as she launched herself in her father’s arms.

“Sorry dad… I am so, so sorry…” She wept. Stolas shook his head, holding her to him, caressing her soft feathers.

“No reason to be sorry, darling.”

“No, not true… I… I listened to, to mother and sh-she tried to kill you.” Stolas sighed. Ah. “And Andre-Andrealphus he…” an hiccup. He thumped her back, gently.

“It is alright. There is no need to apologize.” He sighed. “I didn’t want you to… know about your mother’s behaviours.”

Via sobbed, holding him close. And Stolas wondered if it was his blessing, that he would always have to choose between the two loves of his life, his heart torn asunder, never whole.

_

Octavia curled on the floor by the bed, the star pillow between her knees and her chest once more as the cavalcade of imps and hellhound arrived.

Two imps, male and female, tore inside the room, both weeping. The female throwing herself on the bed where Blitzø was still… dying, she thought. He was dying, and it had something to do with her dad and him getting his power and wealth and everything back, but she didn’t know what. The other imp, the male, stood by the door, holding on the threshold and crying so hard he was shacking on his hooves.

The hellhound, she remembered. Loona. She looked inside, a piece of paper in her hand, and it should have been crumpled but it wasn’t, it was kept between two fingers and held tight like it was precious, and Loona was looking at Blitzø and she wasn’t crying, but something in her not-crying eyes made too hard to look at them and Via had to look away.

Loona padded toward the bed, and the fingers of her free hand caressed the white part of the unconscious imp’s face. Then she crumbled on the floor, her muzzle on Blitzø’s unmoving hand. She wasn’t crying, but her shoulders shook and she made sounds…

Via was an owl. Owl had superb hearing. Smell wasn’t her forte, but sight and hearing? Unmatched.

Loona’s sounds were high and pitched and whimpering, the sound of newborn puppies begging and she was rubbing her face on Blitzø’s hand, and Via had to turn her head because it hurt something in the pit of her stomach to watch.

“Blitzø you fucking… you idiot…” The female imp was crying. The male imp was crying.

Her dad sat on the other side of her. He wasn’t crying but he looked like he had no tears, no breath, nothing left inside. Like he was a hollow husk. It scared something in her, to see him like that.

And still, he smiled at her, frail like a quail’s egg.

“Oh. Blitzø left this for you.” He said, in a soft voice.

She blinked.

It was a letter.

“From Blitzø, to Octavia.”

Why would he do that?

Everything was cold and horrible, and her dad was at her side, and on the other side the imp was… dying? And she didn’t understand. Perhaps, the letter would explain.

She opened it and began to read.

Hello Octavia,

If you are reading it, then it means I have kicked the bucket.

You don’t know me and, frankly, you probably hate me. That’s ok. I would hate me if I were you too. If I know adults, nobody has bothered to explain to you anything much, so here is what happened: I partnered up with Vassago, which is one of your Dukes guys, to see how to get back your dad’s stuff…

Via had to stop reading. The imp, Blitzø, was trying to get her dad’s things… back? She glanced at his still face on the bed. He was covered up to his chin, and he looked. Well.

Dead already.

She shivered. Why had he cared to get her dad’s stuff back to him? Hadn’t he won? He had her dad.

She went on.

… to see how to get back your dad’s stuff. To do so, we used some kind of fancy-smanchy spell that would have shown all your mom and Elsa-Uncle had done to fuck over your dad. It was a strong spell, and it required a sacrifice, and I volunteered.

Via re-read the phrase. She looked up again at the still form of Blitzø, her eyes huge. She had studied those spells. A willing sacrifice was the most powerful of all.

Had Blitzø given his life so that her dad could, could go back to his duties to her?

I am sorry to say, but your mom is a bitch. She tried to have your dad killed at least twice. And your Elsa-Uncle is not better. You have a good dad, though, which is something. I also had a good parent and a shitty one, so I understand. Though in my case it was my da that was the asshole. Figures.

Your dad will need you, Via. I think he will take my death badly. I just couldn’t not do it, you know. I couldn’t ruin the life of somebody I love. One day, you’ll understand. None of this is your fault, and I want you to absolutely know that.

Your dad is very strong, and he’ll recover. He was so sad, so heartbroken without you, Via, you have no idea. He wasn’t the same person without you. He loves you so much. Depression is a bitch and has nothing to do with the people we have around us. And you were never a burden for him. You were always his reason to live, his brightest star. That is how he called you to me, his brightest star.

Via closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow.

She couldn’t.

I am sorry you thought I broke your family. Though in truth, it was broken before I ever came in, you know? That is the beauty of being dead, you can say shit as it is. But you have your dad, and he loves you, and that is something.

One day, he’ll find someone worthy of him. Try to accept it, won’t you? He deserves to be loved, deserves it so very much Via, you have no idea.

He is my whole heart.

I have no regrets.

Well, I have one. I wish I had the opportunity to get to know you better. But we don’t get what we want, right?

Take care of Stolas for me.

Signed,

Blitzø

Via looked at the page, and it went blurry, then clear, then blurry again. Some lines stood in stark relief against the white page. I couldn’t ruin the life of somebody I love.

She glanced at her dad. He had moved, and now stood in front of her, leaning on the bed, his forehead on the mattress. He looked like a drawing in black and white and gray, his eyes closed, his hand on Blitzø’s neck, as if to check his pulse. There was not a shred of colour on him, the lines of his beak and eyes showed nothing but an anguish so deep Octavia felt like it was a spike unraveling her guts.

{her mother used to call him drab, ugly, colourless, stiff, useless. Via had never seen it. Her father never answered. How had she not seen it? It was normal, wasn’t it? Mothers just said those things, except they didn’t. How had she blithely gone through her life and not see…}

She closed her eyes, tilting her head on the mattress, the words of the letter hammering in her head, pain blossoming in her guts and behind her forehead. I couldn’t ruin the life of somebody I love. If she had seen it before, if she had not been so stupid, so careless, would her father looked like an empty husk of himself, waiting for something worse than his own death?

Blitzø had written her father would recover.

Via knew better.

Her father would not.

And it would be her fault.

A tear fell down her eye, on her beak, and she pressed her beak on her yellow pillow, wishing for everything to go away, for sleep, for just being not-there…

Chapter Text

It was really fucking calm and peaceful.

Blitzø sat in the endless dark. There was no pain, no past, no future. Just… nothing. It felt like floating.

Was this dying? Shit, he should have done this shit before.

It felt like being rocked to sleep, perhaps his momma had done this to him, when he was a tiny tiny impling, in the same crib with Barbie…

He could hear his sister’s crying…

Wait, crying?

He lifted his head, and turned it around.

Someone was crying.

What?

He stood up, and walked in the endless dark toward the crying sound.

A tiny grey figure was hunched in the darkness, becoming bigger the closer he got. He blinked. It wasn’t Stolas, but looked a lot like him, like…

“Octavia?”

The owlet lifted her head. She was the Via he had known, the teenager girl who had screamed and raged with tears in her eyes, and now too she was crying, but her heart-shaped face, so like her dad it gave his heart fucking cramps, was full of despair.

“…Blitzø? What… where…?”

Blitzø shrugged. “I have no idea. You, you aren’t ill are you?” Oh Christ on a stick Stolas would not survive…

She shook her head.

“No. I feel asleep, I think, I…” she rubbed her nose on her sleeve. “I was in your room. Everyone is there, everyone is… waiting, I guess, for you to, to die and…” she was crying again, and Blitzø wanted to hug her. Oh well, he was dying, what did he have to lose? Worst case, she would push him away.

He put his arms around her. To his surprise, she clung to him. “Please come back! Please! My dad is not, he is not the same, he is not going to be the same.” She was tearing up. Crying. Blitzø held her with arms and tail and his heart ached.

And his left arm too, for some reasons.

“He will be alright, he is strong, he…”

“NO HE WON’T!” Blitzø flinched. She had good lungs. “He won’t. He… he isn’t always good at showing it but, but he loves you, he loves both of us, he needs both of us.” She was sobbing. “and it will be my, my fault, I will have done it, I will have ruined his life, oh please, Blitzø…”

“It isn’t your fault” Blitzø whispered, but he knew how little those words meant in front of Via’s words.

During their arrangement-time, Stolas had once showed him two metal forks things. When one vibrated, the other started to vibrate in the same way. Stolas was full of weird, interesting shit like that. And Blitzø’s heart now vibrated with Via with the same feeling of having ruined the life of somebody they both loved.

And Blitzø may not have done it for himself, but he would not, could not…

He put a hand on her head and pressed her head on his neck. “I’ll be back.” He promised, and looked around, giving a farewell to the comforting darkness.

“Now, wake up, Via. Your dad needs you.”

-

Via blinked and shook her head.

She felt… groggy.

What a strange dream…

Her dad’s head lifted all at once, and his eyes widened as they met orange ones, blinking slowly into his.

“Blitzø? BLITZØ!!”

And then, there was chaos.

Via stayed in her corner, hugging her pillow, and thought about endless darkness and an imp who had hugged her so gently, and somebody that, perhaps, she would have a chance to know now.

As everyone screamed and moved and her father seemed to inhale life with every breath, she felt the dread of the day leave her shoulders, like snow leaves the slopes in Spring.

-

Everyone was so fucking loud.

He had a headache.

And his left arm hurt.

And he couldn’t speak.

Correction, everyone but the owl was loud. After Stolas had said his name twice, he had just… retreated in the corner, where he was watching him more like a hawk than a owl. Blitzø had manage to smile at his Loony, who was growling at him with wet eyes, and then he was debating the pro and cons of passing out because his left arm really fucking hurt when Fizzarolli came back.

Fizz was also loud.

Blitzø closed his eyes, and welcome the darkness.

-

“So he won’t…”

“Sì, he won’t die, though it will take several days, weeks maybe, for him to recover his strength.”

“Well, I am fucking glad of it, but what the fuck is wrong with his arm?”

Fizz had lowered Blitzø’s sheet from his chin down to his waist “to check him” and now the whole room could see Blitzø’s left arm.

They stared.

The red and white arm was streaked with black from the tips to his talon to his shoulder. Black, angry lines that were open to the pulsating red meat underneath but oozed no blood, the lips of the wound caked yellow. The arm was swollen as well, and it looked…

Millie ran out of the room, and they heard retching in the corridor, followed by Moxxie, after a worried look at Blitzø.

The jester’s tale rattled from side to side.

Then he took out his phone, and very calmly, in the absolute silence, dialed a number.

“Hey, yeah, it is Fizzarolli. I want a helicopter and a room in our usual Sloth’s clinic. No, not for me. For friend of mine. Yes it will be paid…”

“By me.” Stolas’ voice echoed, eerily calm. Fizz looked at him, then nodded. “By Prince Stolas, he just got his money back, he want to use them well. Yes, right now.”

Fizz put down the call. Then he looked at Stolas and Vassago.

“While the helicopter arrives, what the fuck is wrong with his arm?”

“The magic circle.” Vassago’s voice was soft but the expression on his face was horrified. Fizz’s lips twisted. Good. He hadn’t looked like that since he had been crawling out of a Circus’ tent. “He must have… Perdóname, he must have touched the magic circle on two points with his left arm.”

Stolas nodded, the gesture like a puppet with cut strings. He walked two steps toward the bed where only Loona was still sitting, caressing Blitzø’s good hand. He touched the imp’s cheek, softly.

It was Loona who said it, her voice rough. “They will cut it off, won’t they?”

Fizz’s tail rattled again, nausea in his throat.

Nobody spoke.

“Ah, shit.” She licked her father’s hand and whined.

-

The next time Blitzø woke, he was in a hospital.

Ah shit, he hated hospitals.

But he felt a bit less like he was washed inside out with the bleach they used on the ground where they kept the animals after they had to leave the fanciest campgrounds. That stuff used to sting.

He tried to open his eyes.

He failed.

He tried again.

A sliver of light entered his eyeballs, sharp like a blade.

Ouch.

Had he said it out loud?

“Don’t move darling, you are still very weak.”

Stolas.

His head turned toward the voice. He didn’t want to. It was instinctive, like earth flowers searching for the sun or some bullshit. A thin, cool hand was on his cheek. He knew that hand. He nuzzled it.

He opened his mouth. His lips were parched. He tried to moisten them but his tongue was parched too. Shit. A wet towel passed over his lip, and he sucked it greedily. A glass of cool water took the place of the towel and he drank.

“… angry?” He croaked.

“… No, of course not.” There was no ‘of course’ in his experience. Someone was angry at him, for sure. He frowned, and made the roll call.

“… Loony… angry?”

“Worried but no, not angry.”

“Fizz?”

“Also worried but not angry.”

“… M&M?”

“The same.”

Perhaps Stolas wasn’t good at understanding ‘anger’ in others. He was relatively sure his daughter at least would want to disembowel him. Not that he faulted her.

With a valiant effort, he opened his eyes the rest of the way.

For a second, the light blinded him, and he whined, but he blinked twice and he could see. It was indeed a Sloth clinic, one of the fancy one by the look of it, all white and shit, and he was attached to machines and stuff, and Stolas was there, sitting on a chair at his right, looking, well…

“You look like shit, pretty bird.” He croaked. Because he did. All his feathers were askew, his eyes were huge and the white pupils…

Wait, white pupils?

His heart lost its beat.

“… I am sorry. I tried.” He whispered.

Stolas blinked. He was holding his right hand with both of his. Stolas’ were bandaged. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your stuff, your magic, I tried, I am so fucking sorry Stolas, I…”

“Oh” Stolas blinked. “No, no you succeeded. My magic will… trickle back to me in the next couple of months, it would be… damaging for me to have it taken away and given back all at once in less than a year.”

Blitzø breathed out and relaxed. “Oh. All’s good then.”

Stolas looked at him like he had gotten a second head. “Blitzø. You… you almost died.”

Blitzø shrugged. “What happened to your hands? You ok, pretty bird?”

Stolas blinked his eyes, one at a time. “My… oh. I had to use my blood to break the blood circle you created to get you out of the ritual.” Whatever that meant. “About that… Blitzø… there was… there was a mistake…”

Blitzø blinked, then followed Stolas’ gaze toward his left arm.

Or what was left of it.

Which was… nothing.

He stared at the place where his left arm used to be, and where now there was just… his shoulder, a lot of bandages, and then nothing.

He kept staring.

“Oh.”

“I am sorry, Blitzø.”

“Not your fault.” Automatic. But true. Not Stolas’ fault. “Shit.” He relaxed back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling.

“… you are a prince again? Got… got everything back?”

“Yes.” Stolas’ voice was weirdly flat.

Blitzø breathed in. He felt no pain. Shit, he must be on the Good Stuff. “Then it was worth it.”

Stolas made some kind of chocked sound, and his hand clutched his, and it must have hurt. “No, not worth it, you, you idiot…”

Blitzø smiled, turning a little toward Stolas.

“I almost, I almost lost you. I, I, Blitzø…” He took a deep breath. “I’ll get you the best prosthetic available. It is not negotiable.” He pressed his beak flat.

Blitzø looked at him and sighed.

“Alright.” Blitzø swallowed. “are we… are we still..”

“Yes.” Immediately. Then, a pause. “If you want.”

“Always.”

Blitzø closed his eyes. He was so tired. So very tired…

“Blitzø?”

“Yes?” Sleepy. So sleepy.

“I love you too.”

Blitzø murmured something, trying to answer. “Shh. I know. You don’t need to speak. I know. I know you love me.”

Blitzø didn’t know what would happen. He had lost an arm. That was going to hit him soon. Stolas was a prince once more. He… didn’t know if it was possible for them to be together. Loona, M&M would come to visit him and be angry at him. Fizzarolli too. And he needed to learn more about Via, help her come to term with everything that happened.

But he was alive, and Stolas was back at being himself.

Everything else could wait.

It was worth the price.

Chapter Text

“Stolas, check this kick-ass cool thing I can do now!”

Stolas turned as Blitzø extended his new prosthetic left arm, reaching for the stuff in the upper cabinet of their flat. The imp grinned at him, happiness radiating from him. “Ta-dah! Pretty cool uh? No need for you to stand somewhere and for me to climb you like a tree.”

Stolas had liked it when Blitzø had scuttled up to him to reach something in the kitchen of their new flat, which was not exactly imp-sized and as such was sometimes uncomfortable for him.

He didn’t say it, he just smiled. “Very impressive darling, you have learnt how to use your new limb incredibly fast the doctors said.”

“Well sure, I had to show up to Fizz or that ex-jester would never have let me forget it!”

Blitzø came closer to Stolas, his tail wagging. “Honestly, Fizz has been a real buddy, done me a real solid with how much he has helped with” he gestured at the black limb “that.”

Stolas nodded. It had been two months, and they had been hectic what between the surgeries Blitzø had needed to install the prosthetic, his recovery of his property and subsequent assessment of the damage done by Andrealphus, the time he had spent with his daughter, Mildred’s pregnancy…

There had been so little time.

Stolas still lived in the flat. Officially, it was because the palace needed thawing and he had wanted the gardeners to make an inroad in the new gardens before coming back.

Unofficially because…

Stolas looked at Blitzø who was sitting on the old couch that had been his bed for the first months of his banishment, and his heart thumped in his chest.

Unofficially because he didn’t want to leave.

But he was running out of excuses. The palace was ice-free, the gardens could do with his own TLC*, and his magic was back to him in full force.

Stolas sat by Blitzø, and the imp’s smile faded as he looked at him, and then down. He saw Blitzø swallow. “Can I… come visit you, maybe?” Blitzø glanced at Stolas, then away. It tore something at the once-again Prince, to see him like this.

It was the same something that woke him up in the night, heart pounding, beak dry, and make him want to shake Blitzø awake just to make sure he could do it, that Blitzø would wake that he wasn’t slowly dying in the bed, because of him, to give him back something that he valued so much less than his life…

Stolas took a deep breath. “I would prefer if you would… think about coming to live with me.”

Blitzø looked up at him, bewildered.

“What? Stols, I am an-“

“Imp. I know. I do not care. You… If what you wrote to me is still, still true, if you still-“

“Of fucking course I still love you Stolas. Always.”

Stolas took a deep breath and then took Blitzø’s hands in his own. Red and white on black and white. His own were scarred now too, from the slashes he had opened on his palms and on the back to bleed, to stop the ritual as soon as he could. He would carry the scars for the rest of his immortal life.

He had no regrets.

“I love you too.” He whispered, looking into Blitzø’s eyes. His own had no more visible pupils once more, but he saw Blitzø’s widen, and the flush on his skin, and then he had an armful of imp and he should have said it before, months ago, it had been true for so very long…

Blitzø was kissing him, and talking, and kissing him, which was both inefficient and also splendid, wonderful and galaxies were born in his chest and he never wanted this to stop, never ever…

“Are you, are you sure, shit how it is going to be the palace is so fucking big, I can’t even go to the fucking john without doing acrobatics-“

Blitzø’s hands were under his turtleneck, caressing his feathers, touching his skin and oh stars oh lords it had been so long, he felt himself fluffing up, his own hands going to tug at Blitzø’s shirt, wanting to feel him, wanting skin, all the skin, every inch of it.

“We’ll change it, anything, whatever is necessary to make it easier for you.” He promised, lips meeting beak once more, more kisses, and Blitzø trailed them down his neck, tiny bites and kisses and he moaned, his legs opening up by themselves, Blitzø slotting between them like he belonged there, which yes, he did, and Stolas head swam with so much lust and love and desire he could taste it.

“And what about Via, is she, is she alright with-“

“I already talked with her, she wants it, please say yes, please come with me, please, I want you with me, please Blitzø”

And Blitzø looked down at him, his beautiful face highlighted by the lamp above, red and white skin, expanses of them for Stolas’ hungry eyes and hungry hands, his eyes so soft and so real looking at him with everything Stolas had always, always wanted, and then Blitzø touched the side of his face with his right hand, and smiled, and Stolas’ chest exploded in a whole universe even before he heard his beloved’s voice answering him.

“Yes. I’ll be with you, Stolas. Always.”

*He learnt this idiom from Moxxie. TLC. So efficient!