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It was a week until Krampusnacht, and 6 months after her first success in redemption of the hotel. Charlie was curled up into a ball, moping in the blankets of a bed that was once shared with Vagatha, her lover and friend. The princess was stuck between the devil and the deep, blue sea - one one hand, she was happy for her beloved, that she was in a better place. On the other hand, she was devastated and heartbroken that she can’t be with Vaggie like she was before. She missed her cuddles, her kisses, the way she’d get so cutely angry at their radio host co-worker…. She missed kisses under the mistletoe, too. She reckoned that moths are drawn to the light and so Vaggie moved onto higher realms. She suddenly realised her pillow was damp with tears. Pale white skin was bumpy with the cold of the room. Charlotte sat up and looked out of her window.
It wasn’t often that it snowed in Hell, but today was one of these days. White and silver flecks contrasted the deep red sky, falling down to create a small puff of heaven along the ground. Usually, Hell was so hot that you could feel the warmth radiating off of the asphalt onto your face, like you walked into an oven. Regularly, the hotel would need intense air conditioning to ensure residents don’t melt in their shoes, but today was well the opposite - icy! Due to being owner, she had the permissions to use her demonic magic to flick the heater on with a whim.
Charlie curled back up into bed to write a letter to Vaggie which she’d send up to heaven along with a care package she carefully crafted. Lavender candles, white chocolate truffles with blueberry jam, a cute moth plushie, and a painting of Vaggie and her which recreated a memory of last Krampusnacht were all in the package already. “Dear Vaggie…” She thought to herself as she wrote on pastel pink stationary “How’s Heaven?” Charlie chewed on her pencil, feeling a bit foggy, she stopped her writing to come back to it later when she felt like she could write. Her long hair swung about as she hopped up to look out of her window again.
Upon further examination of how deep in snow Pentagram City was, she came to the conclusion that she and her residents were snowed in! Although she had the power and ability to stop her guests and staff from being imprisoned here until the storm died down, she resisted doing so with her pyrokinesis due to the risk of setting someone or her hotel on fire. She was too mentally unwell recently for her magic to go smoothly - recently, her magic has either been too strong or not strong enough for the situations she found herself in. She sighed feeling hopeless as she picked up the phone to call her co-worker. The heater didn’t do much for the hellborn princess, as she was shivering cold.
“Alastor? Hey… Uh….Were snowed in… Please make sure to inform Angel, Nifty and Husk. ” Her shivers were heard in her voice, teeth clanking together. Fuck I’m so cold… the Demon Belle whispered to herself, holding her arms and giving them friction in attempts to warm her up. Being a demon with fire powers, the cold affected her greatly. This was the weakest she’s felt in decades. It’s only gotten this cold a few dozen times during her hundreds of years in hell, she was able to manage, so she wasn’t too worried.
Red claws picked up the semi-modern phone. Alastor couldn’t stand it’s modernity. “Hello, my dear?” Due to the snow storm, the phone lines weren’t working their best. All this charismatic killer could hear on his end were a few sound bites of Charlie’s voice, broken up and entangled in the static of both the phone and his ambience. “Hm. Well my dear, it seems the phones these days aren’t what they’re cracked out to be!” He then hung up.
She called again, feeling too cold and weak to walk downstairs herself and inform her guests. “Al? Please pick up the phone.” Again, when he picked it up, he heard nothing he could understand. Just static, some bits of her voice and the clanking of her teeth.
When the fourth time she called went over, Alastor sighed, irritated that he had to touch that hideous mid-century phone one more time. He decided to not lay another crimson claw on it and instead just teleport to the hallway where her door was, giving it a knock.
“Hello?” Groaned Charlie.
“Were you needing me for something, my dear?”
“Oh… N-no.” Her shivering was still evident in her voice, jaw clanking. “I just wanted to ask you if you could please report to the staff that we’re snowed in.”
“No need to! I did that hours ago, my dear, with the technology of radio!... It’s 1PM, where were you? I thought we always met in the lobby at 8.”
Her topaz eyes went wide as she looked at her clock, double checking the time - Oh shit… 1pm?! “Oh… Uh… thank you, Alastor! You’re a real help, I was just uh… I was just putting gifts together for someone special!” She replied in a rush, scrambling to change from her night gown to her work clothes. In the midst of doing so, the cold air left her feeling light headed and she collapsed to the floor, knocking something over and shattering it. Charlie looked up at what broke…. It was a vase Vaggie gave her. Feeling an overwhelming amount of pressure in her eyes and nose, she burst into tears.
Alastor’s fluffy maroon ears perked up as he heard the commotion. He heard her scream loudly, and begin to cry. Decades of using ruthless betrayal tactics to become an overlord left an impressionable mark on his reputation as a cold hearted monster. Despite that, he’s actually come to care for his self-assumed personal source of entertainment, Princess Charlote Magne, even if he didn’t want to admit that to anybody. His view of her as entertainment quickly shifted more into a respected equal once Vaggie’s redemption proved him wrong. His power hungry side also acknowledged that she was a Magne, and Magnes meant power. He did have some half-hearted plans to share that power through marriage, but that thought gave him the same strange, tight sort of feeling he sometimes got near her that he never quite cared for. Although she was a powerful demon with more ability than even he does (even if it hurt his pride to admit that and she refused to let on how much power she truly wields as royalty), he felt a strange urge to help her.
He quickly teleported in the room to find broken periwinkle porcelain, water, and lavender all over the carpet, and his co-worker on the floor, holding her head while she cried. It reminded him of when he broke his mother’s favorite teapot shortly after her passing. For the first time in decades he felt… empathy… it felt strange. He tried picking her up and assessing her situation. “Charlie? My dear, are you alright?”
Ashamed and irritable with lamenting her lost love, her demonic form came out when she realised she wasn’t alone and that he barged in on her, disregarding her privacy like he’s done before. Although she wasn’t exposed, growing up in royalty taught her that a night dress was no proper way for a lady to appear to anyone. She covered her body up, face pink with embarrassment. Her red eyes glared angrily at him, hissing as she wiggled out of his grasp. “Holy fuck Al, DID YOUR MOM EVER TEACH YOU TO FUCKING KNOCK?!” Her voice sounded demonically distorted, completely unlike anything he’s ever heard from her. “Let alone, I didn’t say you had permission to just grab me like that.”
Although this wasn’t as severe of a pain through his chest, this was the first time Alastor felt genuinely hurt, it the first time in the decades since he lost his mother and faced discrimination daily during his human life as a Creole man in 1920s New Orleans. Her outburst actually managed to make his smile lower into a small frown. The radio demon finally came to terms with the tightness in his stomach he felt near her sometimes. He has feelings for her. She broke his heart even if he forgot he had one in the first place. His voice began to crack, turning to the door because he felt an overwhelming pressure welling up in his tear ducts. “...Right… Well, if you need me I’ll be in my offi-”
Charlie gasped. Seeing the look on Al’s face hurt Charlie deeply. This cheerful socialite always was up to put a smile on people’s faces, spread kindness to the people of hell and show love to all… She felt ashamed of the monster she briefly became for a few seconds. Even worse, she felt ashamed that she somehow managed to make Alastor cry. “Oh no… no, no Al, I’m so sorry…” Still shivering, she stood up to grab onto his arm. “Losing Vaggie and this cold got the best of me, it’s my fault. I know you were trying to help me, I’m so sorry.” She could feel herself begin to sob again, mortified with guilt. “I appreciate you trying to help me, but I think I’m okay.”
Alastor just stood there while she grabbed onto his arm. “You don’t have permission to just grab me like that either.” His ominous aura of red and black static surrounded his person, he then removed her from his arm. “Practice what you preach, why will you?” He could feel his guard going back up, he knew he couldn’t trust anyone but his mother and himself. Charlie’s charm was just too good to be true it seemed. He then supposed that would make him a hypocrite as he also adorned himself with charm to hide the monster he became.
Without Alastor to grab onto for balance, she quickly succumbed to the cold, about to collapse again. This caused Alastor to return back into his previously concerned state. Normally, human suffering entertained him, but for now, he wasn’t having fun, possibly because he was suffering, too. He caught her before her head hit her desk, just inches away from a concussion. Like her shivers, she was going in and out of her demonic and soft forms. She didn’t look very aware in his arms, either, her eyes looked glossed over. “Charlie, are you sure you’re quite alright?”
Her shivering was too intense to answer him at that moment. Alastor’s embrace was warm. It felt amazing, but it still wasn’t enough to stop how dreadful she felt. She leaned into his body heat, causing Alastor’s grey-brown skin to fluster mahogany. Before she collapsed again, he carried her to her bed and gently set her down, feeling confused as of what was going on with her. “Are you ill, Mezanmi?”
“No… just cold…” her voice was weak as she curled back into her blankets. “C-can you please hold me again?”
He felt his face go hot, fluster coming back. There were a few awkward moments of just static from Alastor. “Uhm… “ He began to pick her back up.
“No. No..” Her voice weakly mumbled as she wiggled back out of his embrace. He felt a brief, faint moment of repeated rejection. “Just… hold me but while I’m here… Like… can we cuddle?” She didn’t look at him while she asked. She felt so frosted that her face was in the blanket to seemingly keep it from freezing off.
“Haha! No.” He quickly retorted, feeling caught off guard, like a deer in the headlights. Alastor quickly regretted what he responded with as he set up a space heater to aim it at her person. “...Sit tight, I’ll be back.” He patted the blanket burrito which contained the person of his affection.
He teleported to the kitchen to catch some breath after feeling like his chest was about to collapse on itself. He was also here to make some warm tea and gumbo for… well, everyone, but mainly her. While he stirred the pale roux, waiting for it to deepen into umber, he thought about his feelings for Charlie. Why in hell would she ever be interested in me? He thought to himself. His narcissism and seeing most demons as ‘not to his level’ was just a veil to cover his overwhelming amount of self hatred that years of mistreatment during his time as a human bombarded him with. He knew he was a cannibal and so was she from him putting demon flesh in her food without her asking. He knew he was a cold and ruthless killer. He knew his ability to love has gotten smaller as his urge to kill got bigger. Still, he couldn't help but love her, seeing all of hell ridicule her was entertaining not because he hated her, but because he related to her. While distracted, his roux burnt, irritating him. He groaned and dumped it out, the sizzle of the pan getting the attention of Husker, who’s feline nose and ears could sense things beyond his comprehension. He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that a lowly cat demon could hear, smell, see, touch, and taste more than he can.
Husk sniffed at the spicy sausage his boss cut up, stealing a few rounds before Alastor confronted him. “Spit that out!” He hit Husk with his microphone. “Gluttonous, greedy little kitties don’t make it very far!” He hissed “Besides, raw meat can get you sick, don’t you know that?” He groaned, annoyed. Although Husk was physically 60 - twice Alastor’s physical age, he sometimes felt like he was talking to a toddler. “I’ll feed you when it’s done.”
Husk stared at the teacup near his workspace. It’s teabag said “Charlie <3”. Intrigued at his new found opportunity to blackmail his boss, he grinned. “Want me to bring this to Charlie?” He cracked up at Alastor’s recently discovered softness.
“No, I’ll take it myself. Go on, we have a reception to work at. That’s your job, isn’t it?” He asked, annoyed as Husker wouldn’t budge. He continued to stir the roux.
“....Got the hots for her?”
Al’s face went red with irritation, smile twitching. “No. I’m asexual, Husker, remember that?”
“You got the hots for her romantically. ”
Alastor deeply inhaled, tremendously annoyed. “I care for her. That’s different. This sort of childish behavior isn't entertaining, Husker.”
“It is to me.” He grinned, finally able to get under his boss’ skin. “Tell ya what, I won’t tell a single soul, if…”
Alastor twitched his eye as the stench of tuna, whiskey and sardines violated his nostrils, whiskers grazing his forearm as his grubby little cat hands kept touching the spicy sausage. “You stop nagging me about raw meat, I mean fuck, I’m a cat for fuck’s sake. Also, I want naps to be included in my job and I’d like 50 bucks to keep a secret. Deal?”
Half- listening as he was too preoccupied with his task of making a roux and thinking about Charlie, he just nodded. “Sure.”
Husk had a prideful grin on his face. This was the first time Alastor ever agreed to make a deal where he was the one with the advantage. Oh how the tables have turned. “Okay, great. I’ll take this, too.” He snatched some raw chicken legs which were for the gumbo. “Thanks.”
Static filled the kitchen as the cat left, leaving Alastor to lament his regrettable choice.
Over time, the gumbo was done and Alastor transported himself back into Charlie’s room.
“Here you are, my dear.” He sat their food next to her bed. She was still curled up like a burrito, sleeping. She slowly woke up. She was no longer shivering, but she still felt cold.
“Do you still want me to hold you?”
She nodded, pulling him down with her. “Patience.” He put his hand in front of her face, kicking his shoes off. He then removed his jacket and set his microphone to the side of the bed. He rested next to her.
She turned around and nested next to his figure. He took that as an invitation to wrap his arms around her, stroking her hair. “How are you feeling?”
“C-c-cold.” She shivered into his chest.
“Hm. I didn’t know you Mange’s had a weakness so obscure.” He snickered sarcastically.
In misery, she just sighed. It wasn’t funny to her at the time. She felt dreadful and deathly.
“My dear, that was just to lighten up the mood.”
“It’s fine.” She sighed, making herself at home in Alastor’s arms. “I’m feeling a lot better, Al...Thanks for all of this.” She warmly reached her arms up to hug him back. It’s been a while since she’s had a cuddle buddy.
“No problem of mine, my darling.” He sighed, leaning his lips down to kiss her forehead.
Her rosy cheeks quickly encased her whole face, reaching up to kiss his jaw softly. She was aiming for his cheek but missed. She smiled, falling back to sleep in his arms.