Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This had been far more successful then he’d dared hoped.

Cash Buckzo was feeling real good about himself. He’d had to twist Blitzo’s arm a bit (Selfish brat. They were doing this for the money, which would help HIM out and he could use the excess to help the family.) but the kid had done brilliantly. Tossed him down a big sack full of treasure. Treasure that would hopefully fetch him a pretty quarter (Who the fuck wished for pretty pennies!? Quarters were worth more. . . He thinks.) once he started fencing this shit. Now all he had to do was sneak off this estate with the sack without getting caught. Once He took Blitzo home, he might have an easier time.

“Oh? You’re still here?”

FUCK!

He turned to meet the utterly Massive Goetic King (Seriously, he liked it better when this rich prick was just talking to him through the mirror. Hurt his neck just looking up at his confused owl expression.) offering an incredibly strained smile to the royal and the imp servant at his side. “Sure am Majesty. Hope ya don’t mind.”

“I do.” The King Paimon’s voice never lost it’s casualness but his red eyes narrowed. “I expected you to leave once you dropped off the tiny clown. Would you care to explain your continued shadow on my estate?”

“Hee, I just- I figured I’d stay around and wait. Waste more a my time to leave and come back. And you know, time is money.” His smile was strained and he was desperately praying to Mammon that the King couldn’t see his well gotten goods sack hiding in the bush just a few feet away. “I imagine it won’t be long fore you want me to take Blitzo home anyway.”

The King stared at him with a blank look for a long Moment. Long enough to spike his nervousness before he thankfully spoke again. “Who?”

“The. . . The tiny clown, majesty?”

“Oh, him.” His words seemed to confuse the Owl further. “Why would I allow you to take him back home with you? . . . You didn’t sell me a defective imp did you?” The king took a step forward and his eyes narrowed.

“Blitzo’s just fine my King.” Maybe it was stupid to plant his feet and stay where he was, but he didn’t want to step back further and give the giant owl the vantage to see the sack of stolen treasure. “I just meant that if the kids are playing much longer, it’ll be real late when he and me get back. Boy’s got a strict bedtime and all.”

“Speak sense! You sold the boy to me and he was given to my son as a gift. Why would I allow you to take him with you if he’s just going to have to travel back here in the morn?”

Sorry, what?

“And for that matter, you said nothing about him visiting his former family when I paid you. I would have refused you even if you HAD brought it up. How is he to devote himself to my son if he’s constantly looking backwards at you people!?”

“Uh, Majesty?”

“What!?”

“When- When you say I sold him, uh. . . Whe- When did that happen?”

The King stood there a moment, wide eyed in disbelief. “When di- Are you stupid!?” The owl turned to the servant who looked notably uncomfortable. “I was quite clear in my intentions was I not manservant?”

“I understood Sire. But your presence among the lower is exceptionally rare, perhaps this one’s unfamiliarity with you led to a misunderstanding.”

“I told him I was interested in buying him! Purchasing him! How could he possibly misunderstand!?”

“I thought you were talking about buying his services for the day! You saying you wanted him. . . Permanently!?” Cash was sweating bullets now. Not knowing what he could say in this insane situation. His wife was gonna lose it when she found out that he’d sold their son away for just five souls and a condom that was too big for him.

“Did I say, I’d like to BORROW him? Purchase his SERVICE!? NO!” He growled out in frustration before taking his face into his hands “Lowborns, I swear.”

Rude.

“Look, when you offered that wadded up five and condom, I didn’t think you were-“

“Ah, so the price was the problem then?” He found himself cut off as the Owl lifted his face away from his hands, a pleasant smile spreading across his face. “I admit, it was rather unfair to buy one of your children for so little. You should have just said so, saved me these frustrating past two minutes. Do you prefer cash or check, I’m fine with either.”

“I-“ His head was spinning. “Look, I preciate the offer, but. . . That’s my son there.”

“Then just make another one.” The King replied, sounding like a teacher correcting a stupid student. “It might take a try or two, but that’s the thing about children. They’re very easy to make. Fun too.”

“Agreed but-“

“Think of it this way. You can use your experience from raising that one to do better on the next one. I’ve lost so many children over the years, and always used their failure to better mold the next one. Plus, twenty five thousand souls will help greatly for paying for training your new child. Imagine forging a trained acrobat from birth with the best training money can buy. It’ll make whatever that one earned for you seem like a pittance.”

Twenty five THOUSAND!? That was a lot! More than he was sure Blitzo earned him a year. Still. . .

“A very generous offer my Lord. But I must-“

“Fifty Thousand then?”

And with that, any moral objections fell away. “DONE!” He rubbed his hand together licking his lips. Fifty Thousand! Blitzo would understand. Money was money. “Want me to go back and grab any his stuff your generousness?”

“Oh goodness no. I’ll have no trouble providing for the little clown. He’s going to need a new wardrobe anyway if he expects to live up to the standards I hold my staff to. Besides, as I’ve said, I don’t want him distracted from his new life. Do with his things as you please.” The owl turned to the servant at his side. “Manservant, go fetch this man his cash. He screams as a man who would appreciate cash more than a check.”

“. . . As you command sire.” Cash watched the smaller imp walking away, unable to keep the smile off his face. Losing Blitzo was gonna be a pain, and he was almost certain he was gonna get an earful from his wife, probably have to listen to Barbie whine for a few day, but the fifty thousand he’d be coming back with would ease that a bit. And that wasn’t even getting into the cash he’d make from the crap Blitzo had pilfered from these rich fucks.

‘Blitzo. . . You were an alright clown and ya SUCKED at doing balloons, but you just dropped the mother of all payloads in our laps. I’ll be sure to name my next kid Blitzo in your honor.’

This had been one of the best days EVER!

Sure it was a bit bogged down by the news of his engagement to the TERRIFYING looking avian demon.

Even still, he had a friend now, his first ever! Blitzo!

Ever since Stolas had seen him swinging from that rope at the circus, heard his joke about the horse losing his legs, he’d been enthralled with the imp. So confident and funny. A bit blunt and a little rude, but for the first time in his small life, he’d been allowed to let loose his enthusiasm, running through the hallways in unrestrained glee, playing the game that Blitzo had suggested.

Still the day was ending. He looked out mournfully out the window as the sun began to set over Hell. Likely in a few minutes, the young imp would be taken back home and he would be left alone again. He oh so hoped that they might meet again someday.

“Whatcha looking at out there?” His friend’s hands gripped his shoulders as his head came around to join him (Putting their heads almost cheek to cheek, eliciting a blush from the young Prince.). “Sumthen interesting out there?”

“Just. . . Admiring the sunset.” On an impulse, he leaned his head slightly, grazing lightly against the Blitzo’s face. His friend didn’t seem to not notice or did and chose not to comment.

“Admiring huh? You’re a weird one. Who has time to admire it when you’re supposed to get inside?”

“You’ve never taken the time to sit outside and watch the sun disappear into the horizon?” He turned his head, only for their closeness to cause him to brush his beak against the Imp’s cheek. That got a reaction out of the Prince. Stolas leaping back, covering his blushing face all while Blitzo looked at him confused.

“Were you trying to kiss me bird boy?” The confusion melted into a raised eyebrow and mocking smile.

“N-n-n-NO! Please forgive me, it was an accident, I swear!”

“Uh huh. Sneaky little thing. Imma have to watch you real careful.”

The small owl tried to bury his own face in his own hands. “Please just answer my question! Why do you never take the time to watch the sunset?”

“Simple really. Nighttime is when all the freaks come out. If you’re a small and pretty child,” He did a little pose with his hands on his hips. “And I am the prettiest in all the Ring.”

‘In all of Hell.’ The thought came unbidden to the young owl, causing him to hide his blushing face in his hands.

“Anyway, like Mama always said, you gotta get in fore the pedos co-“

Whatever he was about to say was lost forever as the door to Stolas’s room opened, and his father, King Paimon walked in. “Good evening my son. Enjoying your friend?”

The younger owl offered a polite bow. “Yes father, thank you SO much for this!”

“Wonderful, I’m pleased to hear it.” The massive owl turned his head to the Blitzo. “I came to speak to you actually.”

“Oh yeah? Is my dad here?”

“No, he left a bit before I came up here. It seems he had a misunderstanding of your situation and so I came up here to see whether or not you had the same misconception.” The King approached, looking down at the small imp. “You understand that your presence here is a permanent one, yes?”

Stolas found his heart flutter. Was he to have regular visits from the imp? His father could be so generous sometimes!

“. . . What do ya mean permanent?” The imp shot a suspicious look at the King.

“I mean dear boy, you live here now.”

What? “. . . Wha- My family is moving here?” Blitzo looked helplessly confused, a bit scared too.

“No little one. Just you.” A look that only deepened as the King continued to speak. “You’re father sold you to me this afternoon, and I in turn, gifted you to my son.”

Both of the children’s eyes widened in horror. That was. . . WHAT!? “Father-“

“I wanna speak to my dad!” There was no trace of the confidence that he had come to know in Blitzo’s tone. He sounded so small and confused.

“Try listening little one. I said a few moments ago that he’s already left.” The King reached down with a single pat on the imp’s head. “Look on the bright side, you have the honor of being the first personal servant of my son’s staff, a position lowborns would trip over their selves to secure. That and I paid quite the sum for you. That money will surely improve things for your former family. Truly a worthy sacrifice!”

Blitzo gaped up at the King, unable to get words out, looking completely horrified and his eyes were glistening. After a few seconds “Bu-B-But my. . . My family-“

“You don’t have one dear boy.” Blitzo was looking more and more like he was going to physically fall apart any second. “You’re father sold you to me. That means you’re not a member of that family anymore.”

“FATHER!” He’d never raised his voice at the King before, always too afraid of the consequences. But he couldn’t watch this anymore. His friend looked as close to a complete breakdown as he had ever witnessed.

“Oh what now?” Rather than anger, the giant owl looked over at Stolas in annoyance. “First there was your bitch outburst over your engagement, now this!?”

He marched up to the Blitzo, placing a hand on his shoulder (which was met with a flinch.) looking up at his- King Paimon with the most determined face he could muster. “Perhaps we should give him a bit to absorb some of this rather than drop all of this on him at once.”

“Hmmm.” The King looked down at the young Prince and then back to the increasingly fragile looking imp. “Yes, this one doesn’t seem to take surprises easily. And I wouldn’t want to break your gift the day I got it for you. Very well.” Paimon turned making his way for the door.

"I’ll have my manservant come by in a bit. He’ll make sure this one is dressed more appropriately and that he has some sort of bed. We’ll set him up in your dressing room in the corner or something.” He looked back at the children, one looking down at his feet, not responding to anything that was said, the other glaring at the King’s with a fire that he’d never had the nerve to use before. “I must say Stolas, that glare of yours is quite nice, if misdirected. Hope to see that grow. Good night my son. Imp, we’ll speak more about your new position tomorrow.” And with that, the King left the room, leaving the two children alone.

Stolas allowed himself to glare at the door another moment, before he turned to his friend, whom he could feel starting to shake. He found the young imp’s lip quivering, breathing heavily and his eyes starting to tear up. “Blitzo-“ He found his hand violently shaken off the imp’s shoulder as his friend walked away from him, his arms coming up to hug himself. He stood there, not sure what to do.

He found himself compelled to run up to his friend when Blitzo found the corner of the room, letting out a high pitched whine, one that sounded more like a wounded dog then a child’s cry. “Blitzo.” The Prince once again placed his hands on the shoulders of the imp. This caused Blitzo to whip around, tears running down from his angry eyes as he started beating his fists against the owl’s chest. Unlike the King’s hit when he’d made the mistake of bowing to Blitzo when they’d met, these hits carried almost no pain. The blows got weaker and weaker as the imp got closer and closer to the impending meltdown. “It’s okay, let it out, everything. Don’t keep it bottled up.”

That seemed to do it. Blitzo beat his fist against Stolas’s chest three more times, before they came to rest against it. A few seconds after, the imp’s legs collapsed from under him, sending the two children sinking to the floor as Blitzo dug his head against the owl, letting out a haunting cry of pain followed by hysterical sobs. Stolas wrapped his hands around the imp, pulling him as close as he could, holding his friend as his world crashed down around him. The owl found himself crying too, his heart breaking for Blitzo’s pain.

This was the worst day ever!

Chapter Text

Blitzo could be freaking STUPID at times. Monumentally so really. He was loud and rowdy, wouldn’t admit that he needed to practice his balloon skills and his joke timing could use work. Even this afternoon, he kept trying to bring pirates into their games despite Fizzarolli asking him REPEATEDLY to knock it off, even threatening to punch him if he didn’t (Seriously!? FIZZAROLLI!? Literally one of the nicest and most wholesome thing about this whole place and Blitzo managed to push him into making threats!? ONLY Blitzo!).

All in all, Barbie Wire’s twin brother could drive her up the wall (And NOT for the purpose of perfecting her acrobatics.).

Even still. . . A fresh wave of tears left her eyes. That didn’t mean she wanted him GONE!

Barbie was sitting outside the family tent, the one that her mother and she and her brother (Used to now, apparently. . .) slept in. Daddy slept in his own tent, thought that hadn’t always been the case. Until mommy had gotten sick, she slept in daddy’s tent with him. Then, according to the screaming she sometimes heard when her parents talked, her ‘hacking up a fucking LUNG every five minutes’ had caused him to move her in with the kids. Which she didn’t get. Yeah, sometimes mama woke up in the night, coughing terribly, but it wasn’t every five minutes, and if Barbie was good and asleep, she would miss the episodes completely, only hearing about them the following morning.

 She sat there in the ground, trying to wrap her head around the idea of her brother, the one person that she was sure that she would have forever, that he was gone. WHAT!?

She let out a sob as the idea bashed into her again. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye! Not properly anyway. “Try not ta botch this up, Blitzo!” Had been what she yelled at him as she waved at him, watching him walk off with their papa, off to some rich Goetia Prince to serve as his playmate for the day. Was that REALLY how they were gonna part ways, her telling him not to mess some STUPID job!? She wanted him back right this instant, if only to tell him how much she loved him and that life wouldn’t be NEARLY as good without him there, let him know how much she cared and how she didn’t want him to go. Her head sunk back onto her knees, grabbing at her face as a new wave of crying overtook her.

“Hey Barbie!” The voice of Fizzarolli made itself known. She could hear him walking up, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him, some part of her KNOWING that looking up would mean telling him what happened. And he was gonna cry. She just KNEW that when she told him that Blitzo was gone that he was gonna cry, which was gonna break the already broken dam of her grief over her brother. It would only delay such things a few seconds, but let her take what little control she could. “You tired too, Barb? I need to talk to Mr. Buckzo. I LOVE these shows, but three in a row with MY schedule?” He chuckled a little bit, and she heard and felt him plop down onto the ground next to her, leaning into her a little.

She felt him stiffen. “Barbie?” She felt his hand came to grip on of her arms. “You’re shaking. What’s the matter?”

She finally looked up at him, lifting her head from her knee. She had a second to see his worried and scared face before she dropped the bomb on him. “Blitzo’s gone. . .” There might have been a kinder and for sure gentler way to deliver the news to her brother’s best friend that he was gone, and a part of Barbie felt terrible for delivering the news so bluntly, but the emotional devastation that she was suffering right now made it impossible to have done so. Too raw and hurt to soften the blow.

Fizzarolli stared at her wide eyed, not seeming to be able to wrap his mind around the news. He opened his mouth, but nothing but a strained gurgle came out. He turned away, his eyes racing back and forth. “. . . What?” He managed to spit out after a moment, their teary eyes meeting each other. His next words came out as if he were BARELY holding it together. “He’s. . . He’s dead!?”

She shook her head fiercely, but the image that those words evoked. . . “No! No, no. He’s. . . He’s alive but. . .” She sniffed, clenching her eyes. “Papa said that the whole being a Goetia’s playmate thing? He said that it was apparently a permanent thing. He ain’t coming back!” Saying it out loud sent her into another wave of crying, slamming her head back into her knees.

She could hear Fizzarolli stuttering, trying again to wrap his head around what he’d had dropped on him. “But that’s. . . But. . .: She felt him lean against her again, grasping at one of her hands. She did her best to squeeze back, but in her state, she wasn’t sure if it was too tight or too weak. “He can’t do that! He can’t just. . . Just get rid of Blitzo like this! He. . . He’s his SON!! What’d those Goetias even GIVE him that made that acceptable!?”

Barbie snorted, but there was no joy to be found. “Fifty thousand apparently.”

A scoff DRIPPING with contempt left Fiz’s lips. She looked up at him, finding tears dripping from his eyes as well. He opened his mouth again, looking to speak, but the only thing that came out was a sob, as he devolved into tears as well. The hand not gripping hers came up to his face, grabbing it. The image reinvigorated her own tears, and she leaned into the younger (Only by a year though) boy’s shoulder. He leaned in as well, no more words passing between them as they could do nothing but what felt like mourn their lost brother/best friend.

Time passed unmarked, as they sat there in tears, all while Barbie’s daddy was in the tent behind them, telling Mommy what happened.

SLAP “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND!!??”

Correction, he’d apparently now TOLD her what happened.

“Hey! You don’t raise your hand at ME, Tilla! Secondly, look at the bills in my hand and TELL me I’m outta my mind!”

Another slap and a pathetic shriek followed. “I’M LOOKING AT THEM AND TELLING YOU, YOU’RE OUTTA YOUR FUCKING MIND!!!”

“YOU’RE SO UNGRATFUL SOMETIMES, YOU KNOW THAT!!??”

“UNGRATEFUL!!!???” A loud crash and another high pitched shriek (That Barbie knew from years of arguments was her daddy.) left the tent, at which point, the two imp children had looked up and back at. “YOU COME BACK HERE WITHOUT MY SON, TELLING ME THAT YOU SOLD HIM OFF TO ONE OF THE PRINCES, AND YOU WANT ME TO BE FUCKING GRATEFUL!!??”

“Now that’s the first rational thing you’ve said to- ARRGGGHHH!!!”

Barbie’s parents came shooting out of the tent, Mommy having a tight grip on daddy’s horn, twisting his head downwards while she whaled her fist on the top of his head, daddy waving his hands around until he managed to catch his hand on her face, trying to push her away. It did nothing as mommy just took the opportunity to bite the hand near her mouth. Her daddy let out a loud and pained cry. “OH YOU BITCH!!”The bite seemed to give him a surge of adrenaline, allowing him to make a desperate shove with all of his strength, sending mommy to the ground (Though he cried out in pain again as her teeth scrapped his skin on the way down.).

Barbie was on her feet within seconds, worried about her mother, worried that all this movement and stress would worsen her condition. She’d all but stopped being able to stand more than a few hours without completely exhausting herself, and that was wasn’t even getting into her DOING anything. She got tired so easily.

Mommy was on her feet in a few seconds, thanks to Barbie (And Fizzarolli, who’d thankfully come over to help as well.), though Barbie was quickly worried about heavily mommy was breathing and the way her legs were shaking. “Mommy, are you okay?”

“Oh yeah sure, is SHE okay?!” Her daddy’s voice drew her attention, finding him massaging his bleeding hand, a sneer on his lip, but his eyes not on any of the three other imp. “Crazy bitch decides to attack me, hit me, but SHE’S the one getting all the worry round here! REAL nice, Barb! REALLY feeling the love right now!”

“What the FUCK would you know about feeling LOVE!?” Her mommy shouted back, her voice shaky and not as vicious as it was before, her heavy gasps getting in the way. “You can’t POSSIBLE claim to be capable of feeling any sort of LOVE, when you come home, talking about how much money you’ve made, SELLING OUR BABY BOY AWAY!!”

Daddy actually had the nerve to roll his eyes and make a LOUD annoyed huff. “Kinda like how YOU’RE not capable of feeling GRATEFUL, Til?” He held up a thick stack of soul, flipping them through the bills. “Know what THIS is? This is the next three years a medicine money! You know, that stuff that keeps you alive and costs a FORTUNE!”

He pitched his voice (Impressive given how high pitched his voice USUALLY was.) Grasping his hands together and making a dreamy expression. “Oh THANK you, Cash! You’re SUCH a good husband, always looking out for me, not dropping me to the side like a sack of SHIT, even though me getting sick is putting a financial BURDEN on you!” The cutsie tone he used dropped as he went on the tirade, as did the smile on his face. He bared his teeth and looked at mommy with such contempt. “All things considered, I think I’ve done REAL well by you, and all you can do is WHINE and COMPLAIN, when, I’ll remind you, a LOTTA demons woulda just dropped you to the side the first time you coughed up blood like you did! But instead, I keep you around in spitea the fact that your medicine is QUITE expensive!”

He flared his arms and took two steps forward. “So yeah, I dropped a kid that was nothing but a DRAIN on us and now, we gotta nough money that we ain’t gonna have to worry about it a while. This stack here!?” He waved the money around in the air. “This doesn’t even cover a TENTH a what I came home with! YER WELCOME, TILLA!!”

“OH, OUR CHILDREN ARE A DRAIN ON YOU THEN!? I’M A DRAIN ON YOU TOO!? WELL!” Mommy grabbed Barbie’s hand, pulling her towards their tent. “Then by ALL MEANS, ALLOW US TO FREE YOU OF YOUR BURDEN!!”

“Hey, wha- TILLA!!” The little imp girl heard her daddy stomping behind them. Mommy was pulling her over to a small dresser, opening her drawers and starting to roughly shoving Barbie’s clothes in it.

“Mommy?” All of this was scaring her, the anger on both her parent’s faces, the dismay of losing Blitzo. It was clashing around in her mind and she didn’t know what to do with it all.

“Barbie, gather your things.” Her mother spoke with a stiffness, like she was trying not to unleash whatever emotions she was struggling with out on Barbie, but the terse tone just distressed her further.

“YOU STAY RIGHT THERE AND DON’T TOUCH A FUCKING THING, BARBIE!!” Her daddy screamed, pointing his claw at her, though not taking his eyes off mommy. “Now, you’d BETTER be telling me that that your disease is starting to affect your brain, cause if you THINK that yer going ANYWHERE with one a my ACTS-“

“My DAUGHTER!” Mama snapped back. “I’m taking my DAUGHTER and I’m LEAVING, CASH!!”

“LIKE- FUCK you are!” Papa took a step forward, his lips twisting into a frightening snarl, his eyes flaring with light. “You wanna leave!? Fine by FUCKING me! Heaven, that just means I ain’t gotta put some a my hard earned money aside to pay for yer FUCKING meds! But if you think I’m letting you walk off with one a my ACTS-“

“Because that’s all she IS to you, isn’t she!?” Mama took a step forward and Papa took a step back, his face momentarily taking on a twinge of fear (He always had been scared of her temper, much as he tried to hide it, but Barbie could see it, always.). “An act! Not a daughter, nor your CHILD, but an ACT! Something that you only use to keep your PRECIOUS circus running! I doubt you got ANY more space in the cold rotten heart of yours for ANYTHING else but ALL THIS, or more specifically, the money it brings you!”

“Now that’s just untrue. . . Fizzarolli’s got a place in there.” Papa pointed back to the younger imp who had wondered in, watching completely distressed and teary eyed, no doubt worried about losing TWO more people today. “Boy’s a real magnet for moolah, Barbie too, though less so, so I DO hold them in regard. Heaven, with the cash this little deal has popped into my lap, Blitzo’s inching forward as well. He’s a bit higher than Barbie at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll inch forward again if she’s REAL good with her act, like she usually is.” He shot a smile over to the young girl, but with everything else that he’d done and said today, it didn’t evoke the warm feeling of pride his compliments usually did.

“You have the absolute fucking GALL to talk like you LOVE Blitzo, when not THREE hours ago, YOU SOLD HIM OFF TO A GOETIA WHO’LL DO MAMMON KNOWS WHAT TO HIM!!??” Another forward step from Mama, though this time, Papa didn’t step back. He planted his feet, leaning into her a little bit (Though again, Barbie could see in his stance, a little shiver in his arm, that he was doing his best not to show nervousness or fear. There was NO ONE scarier here at the circus then Mommy. As nice as she was to most other people, dwarfed only by dear sweet Fizzarolli, Mommy was NOT someone you wanted angry at you.), meeting her glare. “I’m LEAVING, CASH! And I’m taking Barbie before YOU decide that she’s more valuable sold off then she is with US! I’m taking her, but before I go, your gonna tell me which Goetia you sold Blitzo off too and-“

“And what, Tilla?” He ground out, boldly leaning in closer to her face. “Deal’s done and over. You a ALL people know how these rich fucks are. They ain’t gonna give him back just cause you come knocking at the door, begging for him back! Not without offering them something worthwhile, which you WON’T have!” There was a little sadistic sneer on Papa’s face, like he was ENJOYING rubbing the things he said in his wife’s face.

Mama grabbed papa by the collar, dragging him forward face to face, wiping the smug sneer from his face and getting a flinch out of him. “But I WILL have something, Cash! Your NAMESAKE!” His eyes widened. “You’re gonna give me every CENT that they gave you, and I’m gonna get this deal canceled. Give them EVERYTHING they offered you BACK and-“

He scoffed. “Oh yeah, THAT’LL work. Goetia are REAL known for playing fair and obeying take backs.” Again, this smug look appeared on his face. “And in ANY event, the FUCK’RE you gonna do afterwards, eh? You won’t have no home, no money, nothing but the clothes on yer back and your luggage. Plus, without the meds, I doubt you’ll last long by yourself out there.”

“I’ll make due.” Her fist clenched against his collar, her anger growing with every word out of Cash’s mouth. “And I WON’T be alone! Barbie and Blitzo, though you’ve NEVER acknowledged them, are more talented than you can-“

The smugness on Papa’s face took on a deeper sadistic tone to it. “Barbie ain’t going with you.”

Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Says who?”

“Says me.” Papa answered back, bringing up his hand to poke at the crest on his brow. “Who you think she belongs to? Who YOU belong to!? Who ANYONE at this place belongs to!? ME!! I go to ANY sorta authority, tell them you stole her from me, offer a nice reward for them, which I note to be currently SWIMMING in, well. All they’d have to do is check her head, see my mark and rip her aways from ya, bring her back here, to where she belongs! WHO she belongs!!”

Mama started to shake, anger growing on her face, her grip on Papa’s shirt collar tightening. Though Barbie could see another emotion forming in her demeanor, though she couldn’t identify it. “Ya wanna leave Til, by all means! But you’ll be leaving ALONE! But not to worry. Barb will be JUST fine. . . I mean, s’long as she does well with her act.” He leaned in a little, his smugness growing in his smile. “Besides that, say the Goetias take pity on your sorry ass, give Blitzo back. What then? You two’ll STILL be homeless. . . At least until I get word that your plea actually worked. . . Like I said, Til. My mark, MY Act. You really think it’ll be worth it ta have him handed back, only to get ripped away again? Maybe if you beg enough, I might-“

He didn’t get another word out, as Mama’s rage erupted out in one loud yell, scaring everyone in the tent. . . Well, besides Papa, who was probably too focused on the fact that his wife had just punched him hard enough in the face to send him flying into one the tent poles. He cried out, grasping at his cheek, the smugness of his face dropping completely, gaping back at Mama, his eyes wide and his body frozen. She took two steps towards him, and Barbie saw her Papa tensing up, the hand not nursing his cheek rose up, as if to defend himself.

But that proved moments later to be unnecessary, for what Barbie had originally been worried about came to pass. Mama started coughing, harshly, bringing her hand up to her mouth and leaning over, her other hand shooting to her knee in a vein effort to keep herself standing. It was futile, for within seconds, she was on her knees, harsh and wet sounding coughs coming from Mama. A few seconds later, a few droplets of black blood were flying from Mama’s mouth, and look of pain crossed the woman’s face.

Barbie and Fizzarolli were at her side in an instant, Fiz rubbing the older imps back and Barbie grasping at her Mama’s shoulder, trying to keep her balanced and from falling further to the ground.

“Yeah, nice. ONCE again, this crazy bitch goes off on me, and SHE’S the one that gets the comfort! Fucking figures. . .” The bitter voice of her Papa drew Barbie’s gaze, finding him shuffling to his feet, glaring at all three. “I’m outta here, got some shit to see to, what with this circus I gotta keep from collapsing by myself. Til, you do what you want. Run, stay, I don’t give a FUCK, but like I said, Barb’s stays with ME!!”

“. . . Get out of my SIGHT, CASH!!” Mama looked up, still breathing heavily and her voice shaky, but her eyes carried one of the FIERCEST glares Barbie had ever seen her produce.

It got a flinch out of Papa, who took a step back, but a sneer soon formed again. He shifted his focus to the two children in the tent. “Get some rest you two. You got a bright and early morning tomorrow. You’s especially, Fizzarolli. Got sold out shows tomorrow all day.”

Fizzarolli hesitated for a moment, still looking teary eyed and vulnerable. “I. . .” He sniffed, tears running down his face. “I can’t. . .”

Papa tilted his head, a look of skepticism. “The FUCK ya mean you can’t?” The child was given a once over. “You ain’t looking sick or hurt, so yeah, you actually CAN.”

Fizzarolli shook his head, the stream of tears beginning to fall faster. “But. . . My first show was supposed to be with Blitzo. . . And I-“

“Will do even better than BEFORE, now that you don’t have to pull your weight along with HIS.” Pa- . . . Cash cut Fiz off, his tone lacking any trace of sympathy. ”Yer a talented boy, Fiz. You’ll get it done.”

“I can’t!” The youngest imp cried out, his composure breaking apart, the weight of his best friend being gone fully and utterly sinking in, crashing down on him on top of everything else.

Cash lips twisted into a sneer. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off once again by Mama. The woman reached out for the younger boy, wrapping her hand around him and pulling him close. It seemed to break whatever restraint the boy had, as he loudly began to cry into her arm. Mama cooed for a moment, offering a whisper of comfort for a moment before settling a hate filled gaze back at her husband. “If he DOES decide that he wants to go back to doing shows, for YOU. . . It’ll be when he’s READY, not a MOMENT before!”

Cash scoffed again. “Bunch of fucking- WHATEVER! You wanna let down your audience, you selfish little prick, you can take the day! Guess EVERYONE who was excited ta see ya is just gonna have ta wait a day! Guess this WHOLE operation’s gotta get shuffled around cause you wanna act out!” He turned around, walking towards the tent flap, preparing to walk out. “So damn LUCKY that we just came into some money today, means that this won’t be TOO bad! BUT!”

As Cash parted the tent flaps to walk out, he turned back to the three, a fierce sneer on his face. “Y’all get one day to cool your shit! Get ya tears out and mourn for little Blitzo if ya so insist. But after that. . . This here’s a place of work, not a resort! We all pull our weight round here, or it gets shed. . .” He stepped though the flaps, fully turning to face the three, a glare on his face. “After all, food ain’t free. You don’t wanna work after the one day you’s is getting, you’d better get used ta going ta bed hungry!” And with that one last threat, the flaps dropped and the three imps were left alone.

Barbie wasn’t sure what she felt (Outside of sheer heartbreak for her lost brother.), so many conflicting emotions clashing at mixing together. Fear at the threat from her father, her mother’s rage (Even if it was NEVER directed at HER.), Barbie’s OWN rage at her father had done, the aforementioned heartbreak. . . It all mixed together, a storm of emotions. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something, HURT something, wanted to curl up and hide, never to be found by anyone. But more than anything else, she wanted to cry.

She couldn’t imagine what her face looked like as her mother brought a hand around her shoulder, pulling her close. She looked up at Mama’s face, finding tears running down her face, looking at her with this. . . Mixture of adoration and sadness. Mama brought her brow down to Barbie’s head, pulling her so so close. “Barbie. . .” Mama spoke with such a shaky voice, her chin coming down to rest on the top of her daughter’s head, pulling her closer and closer still.

No more words filled the tent after that. None of the three imps were in any shape to do so. Fizzarolli was already gone, lost in grief, clinging to his best friend’s mother’s arm like it was the only thing keeping him together, crying inconsolable into it. Mama sat there, holding to her only remaining child as if she was the only thing she had left. And Barbie. . .

Barbie just began to cry as well, not knowing what she was to do now, what she COULD do now. She had no idea how her life was to be now, only really knowing that it was to be different now. Now that she no longer had her brother, no longer knew what to feel for the man she’d called papa.

All these questions, and with no answers. . . What could she do but cry?

Blitzo’s father could be, to quote his mother (Even though his Mama had told him repeatedly not to use the words she sometimes called his Papa.), a real asshole. He was grumpy all the time, complaining about headaches (That his Mama would CONSTANTLY insist was his own fault for drinking. . . Which never made any sense to Blitzo. He drank a lot too, had to keep hydrated and all that, and HE never got headaches or felt sick after.), taking out the stresses of running the circus on everyone around them (Besides Fizzarolli that is. . . He loved his best friend but. . . It seemed like Cash did too. . . Not him though, not Blitzo. . .).

So yeah, Blitzo’s relationship with his Papa was a largely unpleasant one. In fact, some days, Blitzo really questioned sometimes whether or not Papa even loved him.

Even still. . . Despite the past two hours having drained him of all the tears his eyes could’ve POSSIBLY held, Blitzo’s eyes still watered. Even still, he couldn’t BELIEVE what his father had done!

‘Your father sold you to me this afternoon, and I in turn, gifted you to my son.’

Sold? SOLD!? Given away, sold off! Two hours he’d been left crying, trying to wrap his head around the idea, and he was still no closer to deciphering all this. Papa had always told him that those who were useless had no place in the circus, that those who didn’t do ANYTHING for them were dropped to the wayside, no point in dragging around dead weight. It was a thing that Blitzo always carried with him, determined not to be a burden to his family. Mammon, even today, he’d only agreed to come here, to this palace, because it’d been promised that they would be paid for it. He’d also agreed to steal from these people so that the money they got from the treasures they’d pilfered could help Mama out.

Even if he HAD felt somewhat bad about it. It really seemed that they boy he’d brought to be a playmate for didn’t seem to get out much.

He growled a little as the thought of the young boy filtered through his head. Right, the boy. The boy who Blitzo had been described as a gift for.

Stolas, the boy whose chest he was leaned into. The boy who had his arms wrapped around him, stroking his back, as awkward as it was (He got the impression from his little sorries and gasps that the boy was making some effort to avoid touching his tail, which the imp boy had wrapped around himself, a common way for him to try and calm himself.). At first, it’d been somewhat appreciated, having someone hold him as his world came apart.

Now though? Now, as much a Blitzo couldn’t do anything, as emotionally distraught as he was, now he just resented it. Being held by his. . . Well, there really was no other way to put it now was there? His OWNER! He was a gift after all, that had been what the owl’s own dad had said. ‘Gifted to him’ had been the EXACT words.

There was no more comfort to be had in the arms of the boy who had, whether intentionally or not, ruined his life. This morning, things had been fine. Blitzo had awoken to his Mama cuddling him in bed, kissing his brow, shaking him gently and telling him that it was time to awake. He’d done his and Fizzarolli’s show like usual (And had been promptly overshadowed by the younger boy. . . Again.), and had gone to play while lunch settled.

Things started to change when his Papa had come to fetch him, telling him he was to go off and be the playmate of a Goetia that had been in the audience and had apparently requested him as a playmate for the day. Gross, serving as a playmate for one of those weird rich bird demons (Barbie had once told him that she’d heard that Goetia’s didn’t have butt holes. That their poop came out the same place they peed from. What!?). Granted, once Stolas had opened up a little and begun playing the game that Blitzo had made up to have an excuse to pilfer, the little prince was MAYBE a little fun. He means, he was no Barbie or Fizzarolli (He let out a little sad shutter as the thought of his twin sister and his best friend flew through his head.), but hey, NOBODY could live up to them. . . Not even him if his dad’s words were any indication.

He felt the bird boy in question stroke his back in another circle. “Blitzo?” He didn’t look up at the voice. He had no IDEA what to say to the boy that now owned his life. Some part of him wanted to SCREAM in the boy’s face about he had RUINED his life! To tackle him, slam his head into the floor until he was unconscious, run away, and get back home.

All these things he wanted to do. . . But the only thing he found himself able to do was tighten his tail around himself (Grazing the other boy’s hand, drawing another uncomfortable and quiet sorry from him. Jumpy little thing.). His emotional devastation, the show from today, running around with the young Prince. He was running on empty, even before he’d spent most of his remaining energy crying. He had nothing, so he spoke the only words he could. “. . . Hungry. . . Tired.”

The young prince stiffened a little. “Oh. . . You want food?” The imp would’ve nodded, but as said, the last bits of his energy were spent on speaking. “I-. . . Of Course! Give me a moment, and I’ll have dinner summoned for us! Not to wo- . . . Ummm, Blitzo? You need to. . . If you wish me to get food for you, you need to let me go.”

Huh, what’s that now? Blitzo finally looked up (The little bird boy flinching at their eyes met. He couldn’t even imagine how he looked, given he’d spent the last two hours ugly crying.), finding that his arms were gripping the owl’s shoulders, clinging on for dear life, lest he fall apart (He means, more then he’d had already.). Embarrassing. He released his grip on the blushing prince. The boy took a step back, not taking his eye off the imp. He stood there for a moment, taking the other boy in, before scrambling over to his bed. The prince pulled one of the pillows from the (Frankly EXCESSIVE- Like SERIOUSLY, who the DEVIL needed that many Mammon dang PILLOWS!?) pile, and dragged one of his blankets from the bed. He ran back over with his items, draping the blanket over the imp and handed him one of the pillows. “There, why don’t you lie down, and I’ll summon a servant to bring us dinner. Just. . . I’ll be back in just a moment Blitzo!” Stolas scampered away, jogging over to a table with a little bell on a stick. He gave the thing a shake, which rung a little ding around the room. Pretty sound and all, but it wouldn’t be piercing the wall.

Or so he thought. About ten seconds of silence passed, during which Blitzo considered yelling at him with what little energy he had about wasting time when hey, he was STARVING! But those thoughts were cut off by a knock at the door, which whoever it was didn’t even wait for an ‘Enter’ (Rude), and wouldn’t you know it, another imp walked in. Proper guy, well dress and what seemed to be a monocle scar or birthmark on his face. He walk in and came to attention, hands behind his back and a little bow. “You rang, young master? How can I be of service?”

Stolas waved a little. “Yes, Sir Butler. Would you go fetch dinner for me and. . . My guest?” His guest? He almost growled at the choice of words. So Civil sounding, like he hadn’t been sold off to the other boy.

The butler turned to the wrapped up imp, giving him a strange look, one that Blitzo would’ve almost called pity, but he couldn’t tell. Guy’s expression was REAL stoic, stiff lipped and all that. “As you wish, young master.” The butler didn’t look at the owl who was his master, just kept his eyes on the younger imp, continuing that strange look. “I was also ordered to get this young man some more appropriate attire, but regrettably, we won’t have anything ready in his size unless I take measurements but. . .”

NOW Blitzo could see pity plain on the older imp’s face. “. . . I think we can leave such things until morning, when the young man’s settled a little. Early, mind you. The King Paiman wishes to speak to him midday, so we’ll need to have his new clothes ready well beforehand.”

“Thank you Sir Butler.” Stolas responded, all while Blitzo sat there and listened, listened to them talk about his life, like he had no say or choice in it. “Now would you kindly leave us and have dinner fetched quickly? I believe he’s QUITE hungry.”

The butler nodded, turning back to the young Goetia boy and bowing again. “As the young master commands. I shall return in ten minutes.” The older imp walked to the door, passing through and closing them without turning, leaving the two boys alone again.

Their eyes met. Blitzo could only stare at those red glowing pupiless eyes that the owl had. Seems Stolas couldn’t think of anything either. There was a long moment where Stolas and Blitzo just stared at each other, expressions blank. Finally, the prince came forward and sat on the floor in front of the imp, eyes never leaving his. “Blitzo-“

“I ain’t changing it!” Instantly, he spoke up, in spite of the lack of energy and everything else, this was a point he would adamantly fight against.

“I. . . Beg pardon?” The owl boy tilted his head (In a fucking way that made the imp’s own neck twinge just looking at. Owls and their freaking NECKS.).

“Blitzo. That’s my name and I’m NOT changing it!”

The head tilted further (How was the thing not BROKEN yet!?), the boy’s expression growing more and more confused. “Nor will you ever need to?” The boy shifted, pulling himself a little closer to the imp. “Why would you think that would something I would do to you?”

Blitzo gestured with his head to the door. “Really? I gotta bring up the imp named BUTLER for you to take the hint?!”

The prince looked back at the door and then back to the imp. “But. . . We didn’t ask him to change his name. Butler IS his name.”

Blitzo snorted at that. “You expect me to believe that!?”

“I can have him bring his birth certificate to us if that would convince you.” Again, the Goetia boy shifted closer, causing Blitzo to tense up. The other boys seemed to catch onto that and pulled back a touch, though he had the nerve to look hurt at the imp’s discomfort with the guy that LITERALLY owned him being uncomfortable with him acting like he could just roll up on him.  Said imp boy hugged the pillow that the prince had handed him, biting his lip, trying to stop himself from crying out what he thought, the words at the tip of his tongue. Not sure why though, he had no reason to hold back. “Blitzo. . .”

It was a restraint that broke with the sound of his name, that sad tone, that pity. “You ruined my life. . .” How DARE this boy sound so sad and sympathetic like he HADN’T been the cause of all this!

There was a HUGE flinch from the prince at that. A wince and misting of eyes, looking down and not meeting the imp’s eyes, shame written clear. “. . . I know. . .”

There was a flash of something in Blitzo’s head. Guilt, regret. He was supposed to make people happy, he was a clown after all, so when he made someone look like they were gonna cry, it always nagged at him. This instance was no different, but it did kinda piss him off. Was he not allowed to be mad and lash out at the kid who he’d been given to? Was his head REALLY gonna guilt trip him over upsetting the kid who he’d been an EXPLICITLY described PRESENT for!? Screw you head, you’re supposed to be on MY side!

“I. . . I know that all of this is. . . My fault. I know. . . I’m sorry, Blitzo.” The owl boy sniffed a little, looking more and more miserable every second that he kept talk. He ever reached up and wiped his eyes, making the gnawing guilt in Blitzo’s head ring out worse. Not FAIR! “I PROMISE, I’m going to find a way to get you out of this, if it’s the last thing I do! It won’t be tomorrow, and it’ll take some time, but I swear to you, on ALL that is evil, I will FIND a way to grant you your freedom!” Give the prince some credit, by the end, kid looked like he actually meant it. Like he would carry out that promise.

“Why not right now?” Blitzo’s words brought the prince’s eyes back to the imps. “There’s a window over there! Just open it for me and I can-“

“Be caught within minutes and dragged back here?” The owl said the words in an almost resolved tone, as if he’d seen such a thing a thousand times before. Stolas shifted in place, taking a breath. “Blitzo. . . I. . . I want you understand that I say all this, not as acceptance of the idea, more an explanation but. . . My father purchased you as a gift. In his mind, and ONLY his mind, you’re a piece of his property.”

The imp child growled at the description. The prince in turn flinched a little. “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t believe that, but my father DOES. And I’m afraid that that’s ALL anyone will care about. My father’s word is law in this house. He has declared you my. . . I’m so sorry, but he has declared you to be my gift. And so, that is all anyone will see you as in this household.” The boy again took a breath, his eyes growing a little mistier. “Were I to release you, were you to run, my father would see that as an insult. If I didn’t want you, then there must be something wrong with you, and that would reflect badly on his abilities, his reputation. It would give his rivals opportunity to mock and ridicule him for being able to do so much but not getting his child a gift that could please him. He won’t allow that. It wouldn’t matter even if I WAS displeased with you as a. . . I’m sorry to refer to you as such, but as a gift, he would not ALLOW me to get rid of you. Were I to TRY. . .”

There was an intense shudder from the owl, his arms coming up to hug himself. “I hate to place these thoughts in your head, but I MUST make you understand! If you were to run, he would have you brought back. If it came out that I’d allowed you to run, he’ll want to. . . To fix you. Change you so that you will appeal to me better.” Another shudder, and the boy met Blitzo’s eyes, a deep look of dread, like Blitzo didn’t even want to KNOW what images the owl was envisioning. “At his most merciful, he will alter your mind, removing the defiance in your head, not caring what else gets dragged out as collateral. . . And I think only one of us needs to carry the image of what he’ll do at his worst into their nightmares, so I will spare you THAT description.”

And leaving Blitzo’s own head to conjure up his own nightmares. Thanks bird boy. “So, I have no choice but to submit and settle in as your slave?”

A huge flinch passed through Stolas at those words. The boy quickly surged forward, taking the other boy’s shoulders. “No! No no, NEVER! . . . Blitzo. . .” The boy’s red eyes met his own, a tear running down his cheek, but the expression on his face was determination. “I promise you, though I cannot grant you your freedom at this moment, I will NOT treat you in such a manner!”

Surprisingly, the prince wrapped his arms around Blitzo again, pulling him close. “I. . . I know that these circumstances are some of the worst, but I REALLY did enjoy today. Your. . . Your entrapment has soured it considerably, but until that moment, you really had given me one of the greatest days of my life! The day I made my very first friend.” A shy little smile dance at the boy’s beak, but quickly faded, settling into a look of grim determination. “I’m GOING to do all I can to ensure that you can return to your life, but we MUST be smart about this! I won’t just release you unless I’m certain that there will be NO repercussions against you. I won’t allow you to walk free if it’s merely a path to torture or death!”

Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzo and pulled him close. “I know. . . I know that all of this has given you all the reason in the world to doubt me, but you can rely on me while you’re here.” The boy pulled away a little, not releasing the hug, but meeting the imp’s eyes. “I will watch out for you, keep you safe, so that you can go back to your old life unscratched. I know you’re angry with me over all this, that you have no reason to take me at my word, but PLEASE believe me, so long as you are here, and even beyond these wall, I am on your side. . . I promise, Blitzo!”

Blitzo heard the words, though he wasn’t sure he believed them. Even still, he gave a little nod. Like it or not, this bird in front of him was openly saying that he would back him. Yeah, this little prince could claim ownership of him and Blitzo still held him as having a hand in all this, having taken enough of an interest in him to encourage his father to have purchased the little imp boy for him, but the truth was, Blitzo was alone here. No Mama, no sister, no friends, no. . . No Papa. . .

He couldn’t turn down the owl’s help, nor his friendship, lest he lose the former. So fine, the prince wanted to be friends, Blitzo would do that. AT least until he could get out of here.

Even still, with that resolve, the thoughts he had about how alone he was compelled him to lean into the hug the Prince had him in (Causing a trilling little coo from said owl, who rubbed the imp’s back, whispering something that sounded like there there.), the closest thing to comfort that he would probably have access to for some time.

He would get through this. He would find his family again. He could do this. . . He could do this. . . He could.

Chapter Text

The cold was what woke him up.

Blitzo had to admit, the bed that Stolas had was REAL nice. Soft and comfy and WARM. Not that the mansion the rich owl lived in wasn’t warm. It WAS! The tents that he’d lived in in his. . . His former life (He hoped. . . He hoped that one day that statement of fact wouldn’t hurt anymore. . .), they weren’t exactly. . . Top notch. The fabric of their tents were CONSTANTLY shredding and need of repairs. And repair material required money, money that was managed tightly by his papa. Papa’s reluctance to spend money on the material needed to patch ‘A little fucking hole that ISN’T a FUCKING big deal’ meant that Blitzo, his sister and their mother had spent MANY a night in a cold tent, shivering and burrowing into their thin blankets trying to keep warm.

So, when Blitzo had reached his limit, after he’d slowly eaten the dinner that Stolas had had brought to them, he was done. He’d just laid his head down on the pillow that Stolas had handed him and wrapped the blanket (That the prince had ALSO given him.) around himself, settling down on the ground, wanting to go to sleep, hoping against EVERYTHING that he would wake back in that cold tent, that often cold tent, his mother still in his life. Kissing his brow and cuddling him to wake him up from this NIGHTMARE! . . . Please. . .

It was only a few seconds later that he felt the prince’s hands grabbing at him. Seriously!? He growled at the owl, wanting to be left alone and not manhandled. Just because this rich bird ‘TECHNINCALLY’ owned him didn’t mean he was free to lay hands on Blitzo as he pleased. There was a little flinch from the owl, but he otherwise continued to pick him up. “Please, I. . . I’m just putting you to bed.” Blitzo silently marveled at the fact that Stolas had managed to pick him up like this, holding Blitzo like you would a baby even if they were the same size. Didn’t even seem to be straining. Maybe Goetias were supposed to be strong? “Your. . . circumstances aside, you are still my guest, and I won’t allow you to sleep on the floor.”

Blitzo was carried over to Stolas’s bed and placed down. Call it just his exhaustion and the stress of the day, but the SECOND he was lowered to the bed, the warmth and softness caused him to curl up on himself, his tail wrapping around himself and attempting to burrow as deeply into the mattress as he could. He didn’t even care as he felt Stolas tucking him in. He just wanted to enjoy ANY of the comfort that he could take, the day he’d had.

It was why when a chill ran through him, he actually came back to consciousness. He whined and went reaching for the blankets that he no longer felt around himself. His hand found some fabric, tugging on it to bring it around himself.

A hand came around his own and pulled gently. “Young man, would you kindly cease that?”

The unfamiliar voice and touch so near him sent a jolt through him and his eyes flared open.

He was no longer in bed, he was in someone’s arms (Less gentle then the owl had been.). The imp from yesterday, the one that had come when Stolas had rung that bell. The imp apparently named Butler (Which Blitzo REFUSED to believe!). The guy was walking ahead, not even looking down at Blitzo, his eyes planted ahead of himself. “This outfit is rather delicate despite its price, and I would rather not have to iron out creases so early in the day.”

Blitzo scoffed. “Would serve you right! Taking a kid outta their bed and taking them somewhere?” The other imp’s eyes widened and his head whirled down to look at the child. “Seriously, only thing you’re missing is a white van!”

The older imp shook his head. “Young man, I don’t know who taught you about those sorts of things at YOUR age, but that is NOT appropriate talk for this estate.” The butler scoffed and placed Blitzo down on the ground, taking one of his hands in his own. “Goodness! What in the SEVEN rings made someone think that telling a ten year old about such things was acceptable?! Then again, given the man who delivered you to King Paimon’s estate, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that sort of ineptitude.”

His pap- . . . Cash’s mention brought all that pain back to the surface. Made him look down at his feet, still reeling from this. . . Betrayal, he thinks is the right word. Yeah, betrayal. How could Cash have DONE this to him!? He felt all the emotions of the previous day rushing back to him. Mama and Barbie and Fizzarolli. . . Not knowing whether or not he would see those demons again, his FAMILY again HURT!

He was pulled along, led by the hand by this older imp in silence, his eyes never leaving the ground. He wasn’t sure how long they walked, but he was pulled out of his thoughts when he found his shoulder being gently shaken. “Freaking STOP!!” He swatted at the hand on his shoulder.

“You weren’t responding.” The older man looked down at him with that same blank expression he’d worn the last time he saw him, the both of them having stopped, standing there in the middle of the hall. “It’s important that you keep alert, young man. You never know when the young master may wish to assign you a task. Getting lost in your thoughts so deeply that you inadvertently ignore the word of your Goetic master. . . It would NOT be wise.”

Blitzo growled, turning away from this cold imp. “He’s NOT my master! I don’t belong ta NOBODY!!”

Much to his surprise, THAT got a new look on the older imp’s face. There was a grimace, a look of what he could SWEAR was sympathy in those blank eyes. “. . . I’m very sorry, young man. . . But I’m afraid you DO.” The man turned away, gently pulling the smaller imp down the hall. “The King Paimon has decreed you a gift to his son, the future Prince of the Ars Goetia. I’m afraid that your status as property to the young master Stolas is not something that can be fought against. Nor should you, even on principle of independence. Rebellion, no matter how small, will only lead to pain. . .”

Blitzo was unable to stop himself from being pulled along by this older man, no matter how much he pulled back or stomped his feet. “This isn’t FAIR!”

The butler didn’t respond to that, at least not right away. Ten seconds of silence passed as the older imp led the child by the hand to. . . Wherever they were going. “. . . No. Perhaps not. . . But. . . This IS the way things work, my dear young man. And you have my pity for it.”

Blitzo scoffed again, but ceased resisting against the imp gently pulling him. “That don’t exactly help me. Your pity, I mean.” The only response he received was a hum, though he couldn’t tell whether it was agreement or dismissal. “Where are you taking me anyway? I was sleeping!”

“Indeed you were. It was somewhat difficult to pull you out of the young master’s bed without waking him.” The other imp looked back, a look of disapproval on his face. “Speaking of, settling yourself into his bed was NOT something you should have done. Though the young master retains some of the kindness of his youth, I DOUBT he would have been happy waking up, only to find that an imp had boldly crawled into his bed besides him.”

“He tucked me into there himself! You wanna lecture someone, go flap your lips at HIM!”

‘Butler’ (SERIOUSLY!? That could NOT be what his name was! Blitzo REFUSED to believe that!) raised his brow. But otherwise turned away. “I see. . . I suppose that such a thing would be out of your control. The orders of a Goetic lord must be obeyed. . . Even still, I encourage you not to drain the young master of his courtesy. He shall one day grow and learn, and you will find him with less and less to extend to you.” The man came to a stop in front of a door. Turning back to him once again. “Now then, as to your question. You asked me where we were going. THIS is our destination.”

“Woohoo. Some random door. That explains EVERYTHING!” He SWEARS he can see the older imp’s lip twitch, but like said before, guy was so. . . He was difficult to read.

“These are the servant quarters. I’m sure that when the young master grows older, you will find yourself assigned to this place. I will show you around another day, when it shan’t impede whatever duties you find yourself assigned by the young Prince.” ‘Butler made to pull the door open, but paused. “Young man, it’s still quite early in the morning. I’m quite certain most will still be abed, resting so that they might serve their Goetic masters most efficiently. Please keep your voice down so that we might not disturb them.” And with that, the older imp pulled the door open, walking into the dimly lit room.

Blitzo ended up walking closer to the older man (Surprisingly finding him squeezing Blitzo’s hand a little as they walked.), looking around. As said, it was dimly lit, a slew of simple beds around, all of them filled with Imps and hellhounds. Sure, there was the occasional baphomet or the odd cubi, but for the most part, the beds seemed to be occupied by the lowliest class of demons.

Blitzo was pulled into another room, one with various mirrors and rolls of fabric. There was a little stool in the middle of the room. “Now then, young man?” ‘Butler’ whispered, closing the door to this private room. “Kindly step onto that stool so that I might get your measurements.”

“Why are you STILL whispering?” He asked, though moving to obey the command (Thought not from acceptance of this idea that he belonged to Stolas mind you. Just, he saw no reason to refuse.).

His question was met with a little shush, and that shush was met with a little glare from the child. The glare went unacknowledged. “We may have some privacy and walls to muffle our voices, some of the staff out there have EXCELLENT hearing, and I have no desire to wake them. They would give us no end of grief for such a thing.” ‘Butler’ approached the child, a roll of measuring tape in his hand, draping it around Blitzo’s neck, drawing out a squirm of discomfort. Even still, the tape was securely tightened, though not to the point of chocking Blitzo, not that it was comfortable. “I apologize for the discomfort young man. I shall do this as quickly as I can, just try to stay still and endure this. I promise, you can go back to sleep for a little while once I’ve finished.”

So Blitzo stood there, trying not to move (And failing MISERABLY the first few seconds that ‘Butler’ would move to a new part of his body to measure.), wanting this whole thing done as soon as they could. Eventually, while the older man was measuring his arms, the child’s curiosity got the better of him. “Hey? What’s your name anyway?” he whispered.

The old man froze for his second, looking at the child with surprise. “My my, that’s right! You and I have not formally introduced ourselves have we? My apologies for this oversight, young man.” The older imp held out a hand, a rather warm smile on his face. “My name is Mister Butler. A pleasure to meet you, in spite of your circumstances, Mister. . . ?”

Blitzo scoffed. “You ain’t given me YOUR name! Why should I give you MINE!?”

‘Butler’s’ head tilted. “I. . . I just said it was Mister Butler, young man?”

Again, the child scoffed. “You expect me to believe that there’s some couple out there that had a child delivered to them by Shax, and decided ‘Hey, you know what? How does the name BUTLER sound to you!?’ I’m a KID, not STUPID!”

The older imp shook his head, a little smile twitching at his lips. “First of all, that’s MARQUIS Shax to you. . . Although if he knew what sort of tales had spawned about his role in childbirth, I imagine the amusement of the association may keep him from slaying you for the trespass. Secondly, I’m afraid that I must indeed confirm that my name is indeed Butler.”

Blitzo waited for some kinda psych moment, for this older imp to point and laugh at him for being on the verge of accepting such a RIDICULOUS notion. But it never came. “. . . Seriously?”

There was a little chuckle from the older imp, though Blitzo couldn’t really see any happiness in his expression. “My mother had. . . VERY specific ambitions for me.”

The younger imp snorted. “REAL freaking specific.” He turned his head down, turning over the thought. Naming your kid butler so that they would BE one? Never heard of ANYTHING like that. There wasn’t a SINGLE member of their circus who was named after their act.

Their. . . Their former circus. . . After all, his papa, Cash, had sold him off. Like he was named slave or GIFT!

“Your turn now, my dear young man.” The man’s voice brought him out of that spiral, and the child found a hand still held out for a shake. “Your name, please?”

Blitzo took a second to look at the offered hand. And he slowly, hesitantly took it, shaking it lightly. “Blitzo.”

The older imp made a far firmer, but not uncomfortable shake, even bringing his other hand to sandwich the child’s. “Blitzo? Such a pleasure.” The child’s hand was released, the older imp returning to the measuring. “Was it your mother’s choice? Your name, I mean. Do you know if there was some. . . Reason, to its selection?”

The child shrugged. “Don’t know. Never really asked. . . But it wasn’t her choice. It was my dad’s. . .” Bitterness steeped into his voice. He could feel anger bubbling up to the surface. “For all I know, It could’ve been an old imp word for slave. . . Which hey, given my circumstances, seems appropriate right about now. . .”

The older man patted his shoulder. “My impression of the your. . . Progenitor, was that he was NOT a forward thinking man. I DOUBT that what happened to you was anything more than an impulsive cash grab, if that is any comfort to you.”

It was not. Regardless of whether his. . . Cash, had done this on a whim or if he had planned it since Blitzo’s birth, the man had still given him away, separated him from his mother and his sister and his best friend. EVERYONE that he’d ever cared about was gone and he was stuck here in this place, told that his life’s purpose to serve as a servant. Yeah, not exactly a comfort. He shook his head a little, hoping that THAT would be answer enough. Still, he decided to ask a question. “What was that word you used? Pro-Jen-iter?”

“Progenitor? It’s a clinical way of describing parents. . . Which, I’m assuming you would prefer over me referring to him as your father?” The child couldn’t do anything but nod. The older man walked around Blitzo, draping the measuring tap down his spine. “Even still, while I’m sure this will be. . . Difficult, I encourage you to try to see the positives of your situation.”

The child whirled his to snarl at Butler. “What the FREAK is so POSITIVE about all this!? My dad sold me off to some PRINCE as a-“ He spluttered for a second, unsure whether or not he should TRULY use one of the words he often heard his parents use when they argued. But ultimately, his anger and the fact that he’d been sold off by said parent crashed through any hesitation. What could THEY do to him anymore if he used words that he wasn’t supposed to? Wouldn’t be the first time anyway. “A FUCKING slave!?”

Butler’s eyes widened and one of his hands came up to the child’s mouth, covering it with a shush. “I told you to be quiet!” The man looked back at the door, watching it for a few seconds, seemingly watching for some sign that someone was coming to bang on the door to tell them to shut it. If Blitzo’s shout had been heard, no one could be bothered to get up and complain, so Butler turned back to the child. “Secondly, that is NOT a word that a child should be using, let alone KNOW! And certainly NOT in the estate of a Goetia!”

The chastising tone set Blitzo off further, though he did lower his voice (Not sure why though.). “I heard it from my parents, which you’re freaking NOT, so you don’t get ta tell me what I can and cannot say!”

Butler scoffed, returning to his measurements. “Perhaps. You’re not under any obligation to obey me, but I would HIGHLY suggest you watch your words regardless. While I may be only offended by your language, you can be sure that King Paimon and the young Prince Stolas will be FAR more unforgiving then I!” The older imp wrapped the tape around Blitzo’s tail, being far rougher then he’d been before, though only to the point of discomfort, not pain. “Whether or not you like the idea, you are hence forth property of Young Stolas, future Prince of the Ars Goetia! You can pout and cry about it all you wish, bemoan the unfairness of your situation, and BELIEVE me, it IS unfair! BUT, at the end of the day, there is NOTHING that can be done! This is the way your life is now, and you need to accept it or you may find it cut short!”

Silence fell between the two after that. Blitzo was forced to stand there, some strange man handling his tail, wishing desperately that he could wrap it around himself. The words had struck him, deeply. He’d said yesterday that Stolas had ruined his life, and those word made it VERY clear that in spite of the encouragement that the owl had offered afterwards, his life was INDEED ruined! He was stuck here, a slave to some royal, no matter how nice he seemed to act NOW. Like the older man said, he was gonna grow up one day, and when he did, when he had enough money and power to do whatever he wanted, would he consider himself obligated to continue to be so. And that wasn’t even getting into how much he missed his sister, his mother, his friend, and his. . . FUCK! Much as he HATED himself for the thought, HATED the man in question, some small part of him missed his papa too. So STUPID!

He became aware of tears beginning to stream down his face. This depressing spiral of thoughts, the reality of his situation SHOVED into his face by Butler. . . He wanted to go home, he wanted to wake up and for all of this to be have just been an elaborate nightmare.

He remembers the cold of his tent, the one that he shared with his mother and sister. So in contrast to here, this estate. Though he’d only been here for a day, from his experience so far, it always seemed to be the perfect climate. Though he’d complained (Internally anyway) about the cold when he’d first woken up, that seemed to have been more in response to being removed from the warmth of Stolas’s bed then it was a statement on the temperature of this building. It always felt just the right amount of warm, just the perfect touch of cool.

And yet, for as comfortable as his night’s sleep had been, wrapped up in warm blankets and not shivering at a cold breeze, he would rather have been back in that cold tent. For as comfortable as this place seemed, there was no warmth to be found. Mom wasn’t here, nor Barbie or Fizzy.

He shivered, the thoughts of his family and the absence of their warmth send a shiver through him, bringing one of his hands up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Strangely, he felt the movement from Butler cease. For a few seconds the man just seemed to stand behind him, still like a statue. The silence was broken with a sigh. “Blitzo?” The child didn’t answer. He was in no mood to talk after all those things, the reprimand that the elder imp had aimed at him. “I. . . Apologize. My tone and words may have been. . . Too harsh. This is a very tumultuous time you find yourself in. I may be demanding too much of you too fast, given the abruptness of this change.”

The man’s hand found the small imp’s shoulder, though Blitzo did not look back. “Understand that everything I’m telling you is to prepare you. Goetic lords are not the forgiving sort, and I don’t want to watch you d-. . . DO something reckless that. . .” He could hear the man smacking his lips, and he found himself curious enough to look back, after all, the guy didn’t seem the type to be at a loss of words. Only to find him as just that, his lip curled, his eyes pointed upwards.  Their eyes met a second later. “We imps, though we’re not on the same level as the Goetia, we are expected to be the very best that we can be. In some cases, BETTER than the best we can be. They are Lords of Hell, and with that comes certain. . . Rights and privileges. Unflinching loyalty and obedience from we below them is among those privileges. Again, your situation may not be fair, but it IS what you will have to contend with now.”

Blitzo turned away again, so they were right back to where they’d been. ‘Accept you new life or DIE!’ Yup, great.

“As I said before, try to see the positives of your new way of life.” Oh he couldn’t WAIT to hear this. “I’m not sure whether you’ve seen it or not, but the life of an adult is rather. . . difficult. Many things to contend with, to worry about. But here? So long as you work hard and well, EVERYTHING shall be provided for you. A bed, warmth, clothes, food. All the necessities of life are provided here, so long as, as I said, you do your new job well. The worries of life shall NEVER be things you have to struggle for ever again.”

He felt a hand come down on his shoulder, patting slightly. “I’ve finished with your measurements, so I will keep my word. I have a private room a few doors away, one which you can use to sleep a little more in while I arrange for your new clothes.” The man walked around, a little reassuring smile on his face, a hand held out. Blitzo glared a little at the offered hand a few seconds before his tiredness forced him to accept the outstretched hand.

The man led him from the room, all while his thoughts swirled. All this crap, all these changing circumstances, all of the danger, making those times where he would walk across a tightrope on high, knowing one single misstep would lead him to tumble down below. Granted, all those times, on his Mama’s insistence (And his pap- . . . Cash’s annoyance.), he’d had a safety net underneath, ready to catch him and soften the blow. Granted, STILL hurt, but compared to what COULD happen if you hit the ground from high. . . He lived in a circus, he’d seen idiots fall and break both their legs. Did a LOT more to encourage him to be careful then ANY lecture could.

Where was his safety net NOW? Was it to be this older man? Sure, Stolas had offered to back him last night, but could he rely on one kid, who was, lest he forget, the VERY reason he was here in the first place!?

He found himself drifting a little closer to the older man as they quietly walked through this room of sleeping demons. He was in a dangerous situation, he couldn’t deny that (Even if Butler had been kinda an asshole pointing it out.), and like he’d resolved with Stolas, better to keep this potential alley close then keep pushing them away. It may feel manipulative but hey. The circumstances he was in?

Keep this old guy happy with him. Maybe subtly push him. The guy DID admit that all this was unfair, right? Maybe if he kept pushing at that idea, maybe he could. . . Too early to know.

And frankly, he was too tired to really formulate plans right now. His eyes were having trouble staying open as was, causing him to lean further and further into the older man’s side. He was worried that Butler would object, maybe shove him away (Kinda like how Cash would sometimes when Blitzo tried to get a hug. Had ultimately made Blitzo stop trying to get attention or affection from the man. . . Was he STUPID for being so surprised by this latest thing Cash had done?), but nothing like that happened. Even more, much the child’s surprise, the man seemed to wrap his free hand around the child’s shoulder, pulling him a little closer.

Which he accepted. Some part of him feared that the demons sleeping around him would pounce up and grab him. He didn’t have to worry about such things at home, at the circus. So many people around him to watch out for him, protect him and care for him.

For now, he only had two such people. . . Like with Stolas, best not to shake that boat. Wait for his moment. He would get home again.

. . . He hoped.

The cold is what woke Fizzarolli up.

It was a common occurrence in this place. This circus, he REALLY loved it. But. . . There was a LOT of wear and tear. Probably not one tent in all this place that could be called ‘well maintained.’ Even Fizzarolli, the star of the show at this point, wasn't immune from the drafts that flowed through torn fabric, chilling his living space at night.

Still, for all of said wear and tear that this place had, he LOVED it here! He was a born entertainer. There was NOTHING he loved more than making people happy, making them smile and laugh. Take someone who was having a rough day, cheer them up, make their worries melt into the background. People always told him that he was a natural, born for this life. He was this. . . Bright thing that came into people’s lives and brought joy to the miserable.

Problem was. . . What was he supposed to do when HE was the miserable one? Who was there to cheer HIM up?

He gave himself a little hug as he sat up in his bed. He had the answer to that question, didn’t he? Whenever he was sad, feeling bad, there was ALWAYS a little imp boy, a year his senior, that he could go to that would lift his spirits.

The problem? That boy was apparently now the property of a Goetic Prince, sold off by his own father to the demon nobles. And it was unlikely that Fizzarolli would ever see him again.

The boy sniffled a little, memories of his best friend, of Blitzo. Sure, he’d threatened to punch him yesterday (In his defense, Blitzo was YET again, trying to bring pirates into their games!), but that didn’t mean that Fizz didn’t love him. Wouldn’t miss him. He still couldn’t wrap his head around that Blitzo was gone, for good! A part of him was expecting (Hoping to MAMMON) that the older boy was gonna come barreling through the flaps to Fizz’s tent, loudly declaring something about Pirate wars or something. Much as the younger clown couldn’t STAND pirates, if it meant that Blitzo was back, he’d listen to the younger boy go on about them all damn DAY!

Little tears streaming down his face (Which paled in comparison to the amount of tears that he’d shed yesterday), Fizzarolli swung his legs off the bed, standing. As tired as he felt, drained of ANY sort of energy and drive (All in spite of the shockingly decent amount of sleep that he’d gotten.), he couldn’t stay in bed. He wasn’t going to do any shows today, in spite of Mr. Buckzo guilting him over needing time. . . Jerk. . .

He walked out of his tent, taking note of the green Greed sun, just BARELY peeking out over the horizon. Earlier then he usually rose from bed, but his body was abuzz with depression and other emotions that kept him from turning around sinking back into bed. He aimlessly wandered, no destination in mind. He just need to walk, and walk, and walk, hoping that he found SOMETHING. Didn’t matter what. He need to do SOMETHING. All of this. . . Nothing was making his thoughts sing, swirling with his depression. His head would slowly look around him, looking for anything.

He found something after two minutes, though he wasn’t sure whether or not finding Aunt Tilla (She wasn’t REALLY his aunt, not by blood, but she NEVER objected to him calling her that.) sitting on a stack of hay some feet away from her and Barbie (And until yesterday, Blitzo)’s tent, her face in her hands, slumped over. He approached slowly, though he must’ve made some noise, as her eyes peeked through her hands at him. For a moment, there was a look of rage in her irises, but they quickly melted away. She lifted her head and smiled a little, though there was no joy to be found on her face. “Fizzarolli! Good Morn- . . .” The strained look of her smile grew worse. “What are you doing up this early, darling?”

“Umm, Couldn’t. . . Couldn’t go back to sleep after I woke up.” He looked warily at her, her anger moments ago giving him pause, even while she motioned with her hands for him to approach. “I can go if you wanted to be alone.”

“What I want right NOW, is for you to walk over here, join your auntie for a bit.” She patted the spot next to her, smiling with that not happy smile she had on her lips. He could do nothing but obey, moving to sit next to her, her arm instantly wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him closer. He noted that her sleeve felt a little damp. . . “You get enough sleep, dearie? Or should I tuck you back into bed in a bit?”

He shrugged. “I slept. . . As well as I could. And enough, really.” He shifted uncomfortably, looking at her from his peripheral. “Um. . . How’s YOU sleep?”

She patted his shoulder. “I’ll let you know when I get there.” He turned fully to her, her smile strained and the grip she had on his shoulder tightening. “My nerves and mind haven’t allowed me to shut down at ALL, so I haven’t been able to get to sleep, but I’m sure my body will need to rest eventually. Though that LIKELY isn’t going to happen until I run myself fully into the ground.”

He squirmed, now more worried than ever. “I. . . I thought the doctor said that running yourself ragged wasn’t good.”

“Yes, well, my life seems to be disregarding my health needs and piling mountains of sh-. . . Crap on me at the moment.” Her eyes slid off to the side, narrowing at something in the distance. Again, her grip on him tightened. “. . . Or should I say someone is piling it on!”

The rage in her voice, the glare in her eyes, it FRIGHTENED Fizzarolli. It was bad enough when Aunt Tilla and Mr. Buckzo would argue, the only time that she was ever TRULY frightening, but THIS!? This was SO much worse, the ANGRIEST that he had ever seen this woman. He tried to pull away, wanting away from the menacing aura that she exuded. Luckily, it seems like she caught on to his discomfort, that scary expression on her face melting away, pulling him into a hug. “Oh Sweetie. . . I’m sorry.” She pulled him close, bringing the child onto her lap, her chin resting on the top of his head. “Don’t you worry, NONE of this anger is directed your way. Not for a moment.”

He hesitantly asked a question that had been at the tip of his lips since walking up. “Really? Cause. . . You were glaring at me when I-“

“I thought you might’ve been Cash.” She cut him off, a gentle squeeze accompanied. “He’s the only one I could think of that would be up and approaching me THIS early in the morning.” She pulled back from the boy, gazing down at him with an expression that he couldn’t read.

He was struggling, trying to think of something to say, but his words twisted in his mind. Like as said earlier, he was clown, his role in life was to make demons happy, He wanted desperately to do so to the woman that was his semiofficial aunt, but. . . he himself was so sad, happiness eluded him. He couldn’t think of ANYTHING that would cheer him up, let alone someone else. It was an. . . Ugly, feeling, not being able to do what he was born down in this pit to do.

His stomach growled, drawing a little giggle from Aunt Tilla, a true smile (Albeit small.) appearing on her lips. “Awww, someone hasn’t had breakfast yet, have they?” He shook his head a little, a tiny grin on his lips now as well. In a sudden move, he was lifted into the air. He cried out in surprise as he was brought into an embrace, the older woman carrying him away towards the other tents. “There’s not likely to be much available at the crack of dawn, but I’m SURE we can find you something!”

Fizzarolli gave out a little giggle as the woman hugged him close, some of his depression loosening its grip, but not leaving. Aunt Tilla seemed to be so BRIGHT at the moment. Within SECONDS, she had him laughing and smiling, in spite of it feeling like he would never be able to again. He had to know how she did it, wanted to have that ability too. “Aunt Tilla?”

“Hmm?” She looked down at him.

“Umm. . . How are you doing that?” She tilted her head (Heh, tilted Tilla! He had to remember that one for the next birthday bash or something!). “You. . . I miss Blitzo.”

The smile dropped from her face, squeezing him a little tighter. She said nothing but made a little questioning hum. “I spent all of yesterday crying. I didn’t even stop crying in my sleep. I woke up with tears streaking down my face. It. . . It feels like nothing’s gonna be okay ever again!” He buried his face into her shoulder, though kept himself from dissolving like he had the day before. “I don’t know what to do! I. . . I have until tomorrow to figure out how to get back under the spot light and-“

“You’ll have as much time as you need.” There was a fierceness, a resolve in her voice that made him look up. She was looking down at him, a look of steel, though no anger, as if what she said would NOT be questioned. “Like I told Cash yesterday, YOU decide when you want to go back to doing shows, not a second, day or fu- FREAKING year before!”

His hands came up to wring at each other. “But. . . Mr. Buckzo said that if I didn’t do shows, I wouldn’t get to eat!”

She snorted, looking off in the direction that Fizz KNEW was said ring master’s tent. “MR. BUCKZO says a LOT of things to don’t match up with reality. . .” Aunt Tilla growled out, not looking at him for a few seconds. When she did, any anger that she held was hidden beneath the steel, a confidant smirk. “What do you think of this place? The people here? Are they family? Friends?”

He nodded silently and the smirk on her face took a little more of a sly and smug element to it. “That feeling you have? The feeling of family, or community? I assure you that it’s reciprocated. This is a commune, a collective. Every one of us watches out for each other, loves each other, no matter how much we might get on each other’s nerves.” She chuckled a little, rolling her eyes, clearly recalling something. “Blitzo? Blitzo was a member of this community, same as you. As much as a little heaven razer as he was, there were demons here who loved him. Demons who were NOT happy when word spread about his fate! Some of them? Manpower for the snack stalls.”

She leaned a little, a look of mischief on her face. “It may not be very healthy, but I can think of a few names. I’ll talk to them, tell them that if they want to get back at Cash for dropping a member of our family like this, they can start by making sure you, Barbie, and me don’t starve.” She hugged him a little. “Like I said, you take as long as you need to bounce back, and your family here will make SURE you don’t starve.”

That. . . That was some kinda comfort. Not sure what kind, but hey! Fizzarolli would take whatever he could at this point.

Aunt Tilla. . . He admitted, in this moment, she was what he aspired to be. He’d been miserably walking around, trying to work out what he was to do now, not knowing whether or not he would be happy ever again. And now, held in her arms, he could feel some of that familiar joy returning to him. Not completely, Blitzo being gone still hurt, but he would take the minuscule happiness over its absence any day. He had to. . . he had to figure out how she did it. So he decided to ask. “Aunt Tilla?”

“Yes, Fizzarolli?”

“How can I be like you?” She titled her head again, looking confused. “I mean. . . You ain’t gotten any sleep, you’ve lost. . . And you’re still so. . . You’re everything I wanna be! I wanna make folks happy, no matter what’s going on with them, but. . . I can’t help with the way I am now. . .”

Aunt Tilla shook her head a little, a pained smiled forming. “Don’t be in a rush to heal, to get over your grief. It’s a delicate process. Forcing it? That can lead to. . . A LOT of damage in the long run. You take as much time you need, do it right.” Again, the woman squeezed him close, bringing him into a hug, his face leaned into her chest and her chin resting atop his. “Let me be honest with you a moment. I’m NOT okay. . . Not by ANY stretch of the imagination. And I don’t think I will be for a WHILE. Even still. . .”

She let out a sad sigh. “I have to be strong. I can’t let myself fall apart, much as my mind tells me to, my body as well. I want to stay in bed, weep for Blitzo! I want to go out and find him, bring him back. Even if I have to trade my life for his return, that is a trade I would make in a heartbeat. . .” Fizzarolli tensed up at the words, clinging tighter to her. No no no no no! He didn’t want to lose anyone else, not after Blitzo! “But. . . There are people relying on me. You, Barbie, even Blitzo, wherever he might be. My life is not my own, much as it currently rests on a thread at the moment.”

She lifted her head, and he looked up in time to see her turning her head to cough. An ugly sound from such a sweet woman. “I’m a mother, a parent. Regardless of what I feel, the sadness and pain I feel? I’m capable of dealing with these things on my own. But Barbie and you?” She took a breath, turning back to the little boy in her arms, a look of sad resolve on her face. “You don’t want to be me, Fizzarolli. I’m not over my grief, my pain. I’ve not so much settled my feelings as much as pushing them down, leaving them to sort another day. Once Barbie’s in a better space, when YOU are in a better space, THAT. . . That is when I’ll deal with all this.”

Fizzarolli looked up at Aunt Tilla, digesting her words. He didn’t understand everything that she’d said, but he thinks he got the gist of it. “That. . . That doesn’t sound fair.”

She actually laughed at that. “Perhaps not. . . But what about any of this is fair?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. All he could do was lean back into hugging the woman that was his aunt, hoping that for all of her talk about not being okay, that his hug might help her in some small way. He felt her hug him back, and they stayed like that for a moment.

But it was only a moment, for they were interrupted. “Mrs. Buckzo?”

Both demons looked up, finding a tall shark demon standing there, his red eyes with yellow rings circling his black pupils, a neutral look on his face. Aunt Tilla made a scoffing noise. “Alessio.” The shark made a little nod. “It’s Miss Wire right now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The shark made a shrug. “Makes no difference to me.” The demon lifted his hand, soothing the shoulder of his blue suit. “Where’s your husband. . . Or EX husband, from the sound of it.”

Again, Aunt Tilla scoffed. “Probably still asleep in his tent.” She tilted her head in said tent’s direction. “I assume you remember the way?”

“I do, thank you.” The shark tilted his hat, making to walk past the pair.

“Wait, Alessio?” The shark paused, turning back, a raied brow. “You here to collect the . . . Insurance fund for this month?”

“That’s correct, ma’am.” The demon nodded. “Greed Ring’s rather dangerous. Best to keep insurance up to date. . . Who knows when bad things could happen.”

The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, but began to speak after a second. “A word of advice. He just came into QUITE a bit of money yesterday. Don’t let him weasel out of a single CENT.”

The shark demon raised his brow again, but otherwise nodded. “Thank you for the word, Miss Wire.” There was a twitch on his lips. Not quite a smile, but something close. Without another word, this strange demon turned and walked away, heading to Mr. Buckzo’s tent.

Aunt Tilla and Fizzarolli watched the shark demon walking away, filling the child with relief. He was taught not to be too judgmental of demons, but that shark? There was something about them, something creepy, dangerous. He finds himself clinging a little closer to his aunt. “Who was that?”

Aunt Tilla shook her head, a forced smile on her face. “No one you need to worry about darling. He’s a problem for us grownups, like me and Cash. . . Much as he might act like a child.” She shook her head again, only this time rolling her eyes and scoffing.

“Is he gonna hurt Mr. Buckzo.”

“Mammon, I hope so.” The amused mutter drew a flinch from the child, hating the idea of violence, even if it was directed at a man he didn’t care for at the moment. Luckily, the woman holding him seemed to catch his discomfort and quickly offered him a squeeze. “No darling, Cash will be fine. Alessio won’t lay a hand on Cash unless he puts up an attitude, which he won’t. Much as Cash might act like he’s hot sh- . . . Stuff, he knows not to pick losing battles.”

“That shark demon? He seemed to be really scary.” Tilla nodded, giving him an amused smile. “You sure he won’t hurt Mr. Buckzo?”

“You’re too damn sweet for your own good, you know that, Fizzarolli?” Tilla shook her head, amused at the question. She started to walk again, heading to the food stalls. “Alessio is just a middle man, not the top of the chain. He may rough up Cash if he cops an attitude, but he won’t risk depriving his boss of a cash source. And his boss, a man named Crimson? He won’t order such drastic measures without good reason.”

Tilla froze in place, her eyes widened. She turned her head in the direction that the shark demon had walked off to. “. . . Or incentive. . . If there was over fifty thousand souls to be claimed. . . ” There was a quiver to her whispering voice, as if she’d just had a realization. When she turned her head back, her face had a dark smile on her face, almost taking on a sadistic glee.

“Aunt Tilla?”

The look was quickly wiped away at the sound of his frightened voice, pulling the little boy close. “Sorry, nothing. Just an. . . Interesting thought. . .” Tilla made one last look back in the shark’s direction before continuing to walk, the smells of food distracting him from that strange strange moment.

Could this food distract him from his thought of a lost Blitzo? Likely not. But still, he had to be like Aunt Tilla, he had to be strong. He was a clown, he was born to entertain, to bring back smiles.

If only he could figure out how to bring back his own. . .

One day at a time he supposed.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Stolas was hoping that when he woke up, the memories of yesterday would began to fade into obscurity, like the last vestiges of a dream.

But no, the little prince knew the moment that he awoke that yesterday hadn’t been an especially awful nightmare. He had been forcibly engaged to a truly terrifying young Goetia girl. A fate that had him weeping in despair, though even those tears had brought some good. His father, not wanting to see his son in such distress (Though a part of his mind whispered that that was an EXTREMELY generous interpretation of his motives.), had taken him to the circus (Technically, Mister Butler had taken him in the King’s stead, but the thought was there.) to cheer him up. And it HAD, a little. Seeing that imp child, dashing Blitzo, who had made his heart leap like it was the greatest acrobat in all Hell. Had him laughing at his jokes, lifting his spirit. And that smile. . . LUCIFER, that smile.

The day became even brighter about an hour later, once he was home. He was brought outside, and much to his delight, was told that said dashing imp had been arranged to be his friend for the day. Joy of JOYS! Even better, the way that they had played through the hours, the plans for their lives that they discussed (Blitzo may have thought that Stolas was being sarcastic when the Prince had said that the imp would be a good boss. . . Because he was, mostly at least. A Goetia working for an imp? But then. . . To be able to live his life with that beautiful smile of his every day of Stolas life, he might honestly consider such an arrangement.).

But then. . . In the span of about two minutes, one of the greatest days of the owl’s life had become the worst that he’d EVER had. In addition to the engagement that he’d been locked into with no escape possible, his only friend Blitzo had been locked into his own inescapable fate. Blitzo had been given to Stolas as a servant, a birthday gift the imp had been called.

‘You ruined my life. . .’

Stolas's beak quivered as those soft fragile words tore through him again. He hadn’t meant for ANY of this! He would NEVER have thought expressing his enjoyment of Blitzo’s routine would’ve lead his father to have. . . To have BOUGHT Blitzo and give him to Stolas as a birthday gift! Nor would he have thought that the imp’s own father would have ALLOWED some arrangement! Maybe? Perhaps the man was left with no choice in the matter, for what imp could refuse the orders of King Paimon of the Ars Goetia and walk away alive? There weren’t even that many GOETIAS who could pull off that feat, refusing the orders of Paimon. Should he feel some sympathy for Blitzo’s father for being put in such a situation? Such a choice?

A question for another day. Speaking of another day. . .

Stolas turned his head to the window of his room, seeing traces of light peeking through the curtains. Dawn had apparently risen, or at the very least, was beginning to rise. Much as Stolas might wish otherwise, the freshness, the clearness of his memories of the day before, told him the truth he would rather have denied. Yesterday, had really happened. The first friend that Stolas had ever had, was now a servent, gifted to Stolas. This wasn’t just a bad dream that he could let fade away, as many dreams did when you woke. He had to face this new reality. It would be difficult, but he owed it to Blitzo to do his best for him. Intentional or not, he had dragged Blitzo into this, and he WOULD make this right. He turned away from the window and to his left, finding his imp friend-

Gone?

. . .

GONE!?

Stolas lurched up in his bed, finding an empty space where Blitzo had been tucked in the night before. But he wasn’t there, the blankets off to the side and when Stolas ran his hand over the spot, he found no lingering signs of heat, so clearly Blitzo hadn’t been lying there for some time! “Blitzo!?” The owl prince cried out, hoping to receive any sort of response, hoping DESPERATELY that the imp hadn’t actually tried to run away so soon, not after all the warnings that Stolas had laid before him the night before. His panic continued to rise as his calls went unanswered. “BLITZO!?” The prince was out of his bed, sprinting to the washroom, hoping that his friend (Even if Blitzo no longer considered Stolas that after all that had happened, Stolas would ALWAYS consider Blitzo as such.) was merely giving him the silent treatment. A hope that was quickly dashed as he quickly checked the washroom, finding no sign of his friend.

Stolas began to breath heavy. Please LUCIFER, tell him that Blitzo hadn’t attempted to run so soon! The consequences of running would ALWAYS be severe, but the MORNING after Paimon had gifted the imp to his son!? He couldn’t even IMAGINE-

. . . No, that wasn’t right, he could VERY well imagine what his father would do over the perceived insult. The nightmarish images running through his head added urgency to his steps out of the washroom, his eyes locked on to the bell on his armoire. A magical enchanted item that would allow him to summon Mister Butler, no matter where the older imp currently resided in the estate. While he was hesitant to bring anyone else in on the search for fear of his father being alerted to Blitzo’s disappearance, he couldn’t search alone, and so long as Stolas made it an order, the butler would be discreet in his search.

Stolas only had to wait fifteen seconds before Mister Butler entered the room, his brow raised in confusion as he offered a quick bow. “Young master? I was going to wake you in another hour. Is there a reason you’re up and summoning me?”

“Yes, one I need you to handle with some measure of discretion!” The prince replied.

The Butler nodded, taking a step towards the owl’s bed. “Not to worry, my prince. I’ll have your sheets washed while you take a bath. By the time I’m done, not even YOU will see any trace of your accide-“

“NOT THAT KIND OF DISCR-“ Stolas cut himself off, taking a breath and trying not to blush at the fact that the imp had IMMEDIATELY assumed he’d whitewashed his bed again. “It’s Blitzo. He’s gone, and I suspect he’s tried to run off! We need to find him and bring him back before my father catches wind of what’s-“

“I beg your pardon, young master.” The imp bowed again, cutting the prince off. “But young Blitzo hasn’t run off.”

Stolas eyes widened. “You already found him!?”

“Early this morning, I came in and removed him from your bed.” There was a pause while the butler watched the owl’s face, seemingly waiting for something, though the prince wasn’t sure what. He made a motion for Mister Butler to carry on. “Your father, the King Paimon, plans to speak the young man around midday, and as I told you the previous night, the young man was in need of more appropriate attire for meeting with someone so far above his station. So I fetched him before the sun rose so that Blitzo could be measured. His new clothes should be ready for him well before the meeting.”

“And where is he now?” Stolas asked, already beginning to feel relief sliding through him.

“In my quarters presently.” The imp made another bow. “He had to wake up at an early hour, so he’s spent the last two hours resting in my private room.”

Stolas let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Thank LUCIFER! Blitzo hadn’t tried to run away as he’d feared. The little imp boy was safe.

Though, he couldn’t let something like this happen again. So, he settled as fierce a glare as he could muster on the Butler (Finding the imp actually flinching at the expression, so maybe he was doing it right? He wasn’t used to, or even adapt at being intimidating. It just felt so wrong.). “Listen to ME, Sir Butler! From this moment ON, you do not EVER take that imp boy away from my presence without my EXPRESS permission!” He liked Mister Butler, he did. The man had been a constant presence in Stolas’s childhood, but at the end of the day, he was King Paimon’s most senior staff member, one that had served the King since before Stolas’s birth. Add to that the fact that Stolas had promised Blitzo that he would look after him, the owl couldn’t let this kind of thing stand. Couldn’t let a precept stand that Mister Butler was free to pull Blitzo from Stolas as he pleased. “Am I understood?”

 The butler, shook his head, composing himself and bowing. “I apologize, my Prince. You were sleeping and it was not yet even dawn. It was not my intention to deprive you of your. . . Gift. I thought it would be-“

Stolas let out a little snarl, cutting off whatever the butler had been saying, the imp’s face stiffening up, looking like he had no idea what to do. To be fair, Stolas, as previously said, was not a volatile boy, almost NEVER raising his voice at the help, but the man had just referred to Blitzo as the prince’s gift. He needed to make sure Sir Butler understood that Stolas was serious on this. “NEVER, not without my PERMISSION! If he’s summoned, or you simply seek to take him somewhere, I want to know when and where, no matter WHAT I’m doing at the moment! If I’m asleep then WAKE me!” The owl’s eyes flared red, and he saw the hints of a flinch from Sir Butler. This felt AWFUL, but Stolas was responsible for Blitzo’s well being, he HAD to make it clear that this couldn’t happen again, for how could he protect Blitzo if he didn’t know where the little imp boy was. “I woke up and thought he might’ve run away! I was SUMMONING you to go looking for him, Sir Butler! What would’ve happened had I summoned someone ELSE!? What would’ve happened if they made my FATHER aware that I was looking for Blitzo!?”

There was FAR more than a hint of a flinch once THAT was pointed out, a grimace on the older imp’s face. “It. . . It seems I’ve almost made some severe trouble for you, and for that young man. I apologize, my prince. It appears I’ve overstepped myself.” Butler offered a low bow. “I promise you on all my years of service, such an oversight will not repeat itself.”

“See to it you KEEP that promise, Sir Butler.” And with those last word, Stolas allowed the glare to melt away from his face, the relief at this cleared misunderstanding showing plainly on his face. Trying to go against his nature, be as intimidating as he was meant to be as a member of the Goetic family? It was an exhausting task, a difficult one. He questioned whether such things would EVER come naturally to him. “Bring me to him, I fully intend to sit in on the meeting between him and my father, and I feel I should talk to him about his. . . Demeanor, the way he behaves in front of my. . . The King Paimon.”

“I admit, young master, I did partially discuss such things with the young man, though I don’t know how much he will adhere to my advice.” The butler replied. “And, with the greatest possible respect owed to you, might I request you allow me to bring Blitzo to YOU and not the other way around?”

Stolas rolled his eyes a touch (Though he thinks that the infrequency of his pupil visibility may take away some of the effect.). “What, are the servant’s quarters off limits to me?”

“Beneath you, my prince.” The Butler replied with a bow. “That and. . . I fear your presence might be. . . nerve wracking for the rest of the staff. To have a member of Goetic nobility coming in after me. . . Best not to let anyone think they’re in trouble. Allow me to bring Blitzo back here on your behalf, my prince?”

Stolas nodded, seeing no reason to refuse the request. Permission granted, the older man turned on his hoofs. “I shall be back in less than five minutes. Shall I wake him before we return?” Stolas shook his head. Let Blitzo sleep, this day he suspected, would be stressful and tiring enough as is. Without another word, Sir Butler turned, leaving Stolas alone again.

The owl boy took a breath. That whole thing, being the intimidating prince, A Goetic prince that everyone would look at with fear and respect, it was a hard role to fill, one he didn’t know that he could EVER truly grow into. And yet, here he was, glaring and throwing his weight around, all to protect and watch over this little imp boy that had been forced into their world. He. . . He HAD to do this, had to grow into someone that could protect Blitzo. He wasn’t sure whether Blitzo would ever call him friend again, nor did Stolas feel that he had any right to expect Blitzo to, but regardless, Stolas WAS his friend, WOULD be his friend, his guardian. It was an oath that he didn’t know whether he could keep, keep live up to, but. . . Regardless of how bad he felt being scary, how unbelieving he was of his own power, he SWORE on all that was evil, Blitzo, this boy that had made his life a little brighter, regardless of the circumstances, that boy would NOT suffer under his eye.

More so then he already has? We’ll see now won’t we?

Voices from the hallway brought him out of the depressing spiral. “_{-Gonna be a constant thing with you?! Am I gonna be able to wake up AGAIN outta your arms!?}”

“_{Young man, please stop shouting.}”

“_{No, this is horseshit!}”

“_{Young man! Do NOT use that kind of language, I’ve told you-}“

“_{Oh will you stop being such a prude!? Besides, horseshit isn’t a bad word!}”

“_{. . . You CANNOT even BEG}IN to justify that one to me.”

“It’s an actual freaking THING! I’ve shoveled more than enough of it in my life! My mama says. . .”

“Your mother says what?” There was a pause, a moment of silence before heard Butler make an ‘oh’ sound. “There there, it’s alright, young man. You are allowed to miss her.”

There was a little sniffle. “. . . I wasn’t looking for permission.” There was a little growl to his voice, but it was cut off. “. . . You brought me back here?” The resentment in Blitzo’s voice. . .

“Try to remember that the young prince. . . Owns you, young man. I imagine you’ll be spending a significant time in this room, so best try to get used to it for now.”

Stolas flinched at those words, though they weren’t directed at him at all (Maybe? He’d read enough books and been to another noble gatherings where people spoke to you while directing the words at someone else. The noble art of passive aggression his father had called it.). Owns. Owns. Owns. That chorus of words rang through the prince’s head, tormenting him, wracking with guilt over what his actions had wrought. Seeking an end to this, he walked over to the door, opening it up.

Mister Butler had Blitzo in his arms, carrying the young boy whose face was a mix of pain, sadness, and some anger, particularly when those red eyes of his met Stolas’s own. It was all Stolas could do to keep himself from flinching at that look of resentment. Though he felt unworthy of such a gesture, he hoped that one day, he might earn the boy’s forgiveness for all he’d inadvertently wrought. The older imp’s expression morphed. Where he’d clearly been looking at Blitzo with pity and sympathy moments before, his face quickly shifted to one of stoicism, offering a bow to owl boy. “Blitzo, my prince. As you requested.”

“Stop talking like I’m some kinda drive through order!” Stolas’s beak twitched at the words, the combination of Blitzo’s words, expression and poutiness (Not to mention that he SWEARS he see the edges of Mister Butler’s lip twitch, like he was TRYING not to smile himself.). The younger boy hopped out of Butler’s arms. “Seriously, here I am, though I hope you weren’t expecting fries with me.”

Stolas tilted his head. “Fried what?”

Blitzo let out a groan. “Mammon’s sake! You don’t even know what FRIES are!?”

Mister Butler patted him on the back, slightly pushing him forward. Stolas nodded in thanks to the man. “Thank you, Sir Butler.” The man bowed again. “When will Blitzo’s clothes be ready for him?”

“Most likely another hour, my prince.” The man answered. “In the meantime, shall I have breakfast made and brought to you both? It might take more time than normal, on account of your early rising, but if I have some of the cooks start now, you both should have more than enough time to eat before the young man’s fitting.”

“That would be lovely, thank you, Sir Butler.” With one last bow (Stolas wondered if the older imp would one day, in his twilight years, develop a spinal condition from all that bowing. Couldn’t be good for your spine bowing as many times a day as he did.), the man left the two children on their own, closing the door as he left.

Awkward silence fell on the two. Blitzo wasn’t looking at Stolas, rubbing his shoulder and looking anywhere but. Stolas. . . Stolas didn’t know how to approach this situation, how to talk to the imp boy. He gathered his nerves and started simply. “Good morning, Bli-“

“What’s so FREAKING good about it!?” The boy cut him off, scoffing. “So far, it’s been nothing but THAT guy pulling me out of bed while I was sleeping, talking about my life like it’s no longer my own!”

Stolas let out a sad groan while he flinched, his tongue frozen in his beak, no longer feeling like he could speak, not without setting the imp off further, his hands wringing at each other. The boy seemed to catch on to the owl’s distress, letting out an annoyed huff. “_{. . . Not fair.}” Stolas wasn’t sure what to make of the whisper, but before he could ask, Blitzo spoke again. “Yeah, good morning or whatever. You been up long?”

Stolas was so relieved at the attempt at conversation that he answered right away. “Not very long. Less than fifteen minutes now.”

Blitzo nodded, his eyes still not looking directly at Stolas, instead, wandering around the room. The prince saw Blitzo’s eyes lock onto something, his eyes squinting in confusion, the frustration coming back to his face. Stolas followed the boy’s line of sight, finding that the imp was looking at a clock on the wall. A huff of annoyance drew the owl’s eyes back to the boy. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, your FREAKING clock!” Stolas looked back at it, finding it to be reading approximately 7:45. “There’s no numbers on the freaking thing! The Hell’re you supposed to tell time with something like that!?”

Stolas’s beak twitched in a smile. “The numbers are roman numerals, Blitzo.”

Blitzo let out a huff. “That’s STUPID! Numbers are supposed to be NUMBERS! Why the FREAK’RE they. . . Whatever you just called them!”

Stolas let out a laugh, unable to help himself, though luckily, that didn’t seem to cause the imp boy any offense. “I’ll teach you how to read it sometime if you wish.”

“Fine, but don’t point out WHEN on that freaking thing, I’ll have no idea when you’re saying.” Again, the words got a laugh out of the Prince, and he saw Blitzo shuffle with pride, his face broadcasting just how proud the boy was at getting a laugh out of Stolas.

Stolas shuffled on his feet, composing himself. This atmosphere, it was lovely in spite of the circumstances. Still, as good as it felt to be laughing at Blitzo’s antics, as much as it made the owl think of the previous day, at least before his father had come in and. . . He needed to speak with Blitzo, needed to prep him for what was to come. For now though, he’d ease Blitzo into that talk, maybe wait until breakfast was finished. Midday is what father had said. They had time. “How was your sleep, Blitzo? Did you rest well?”

The smile on Blitzo’s face fell a little. Shrugging. “. . . It was a’right.” The imp’s head turned to look at the bed. “Your bed’s too soft.”

Stolas’s eyes widened. “Too. . . TOO soft!?” That was not EVER something that he’d ever heard people complain about.

“It felt like I was gonna fall through the freaking thing! Crash into the floor!” Blitzo walked over and grabbed one of the pillows. “That and I coulda gone without you in my face all night.”

“WHAT!?” There was a not a SINGLE inch of Stolas’s face that was white anymore. His face must’ve been the same hue of red as his eyes. “I- I- I kept my distance from you, didn’t want to crowd you! What in the seven RINGS are you talking about!?”

“Really?” The imp gave him a skeptical look, fluffing the pillow in his hands. “So you’re telling me that I rip this thing open, a bunch of your old feathers ain’t gonna come pouring out?”

Stolas stood there for a few seconds, unable to move or speak as he processed what his friend had just said.

And then he burst out laughing.

Stolas was doubled over, his hands grasping his stomach as he wheezed and giggled, both relieved at Blitzo’s ‘in my face all night’ comment having revealed to have been a joke, and UTTERLY amused at the idea of Blitzo’s statement. Again, he saw the boy bristle up in pride, getting a laugh from the owl boy.

They had a lot to talk about, a lot of things to sort through, a new way of life to figure out, to plan, ensuring that Blitzo didn’t lose too much or be asked too much.

But right now, in this moment, it felt like things were gonna be. . . Well not okay, but that they could get there, given a little time.

And maybe that was enough, at least for now.

Honestly, Barbie was REALLY hoping that her memories of yesterday were nothing but an intense and vivid nightmare. That when she woke up today, that AWFUL scenario that her mind had conjured to torture her would fade away, forgotten before the sun set later.

But no. that hope was dashed the moment she woke up, feeling the dampness of the pillow against her face, the misery in her heart. She was still laying in her twin brother’s bed, having crawled into there after a moment of laying in her own, wanting to hold on to EVERYTHING of her brother’s. She’d hugged his favorite house plushy, pulled his covers over herself, taking a deep breath, inhaling her twin’s lingering smell, picturing that he was hugging her back.

Anything to pretend that he was still here, with her. She sniffled a little, but it only made her inhale more of the lingering scent, making her miss him more. Made her eyes water even more. Surprising, given how much she had cried last night before falling asleep.

She threw her (His) blanket off of herself. Staying there, wrapped up in her brother scent, surrounded by his things. . . That was just going to make her miss him more. And she ALREADY missed him terribly.

She looked around, finding her mother already out of bed and out and about, leaving Barbie all alone (It felt like an appropriate image of her life as it stood. Oh Blitzo. . .). The young girl jumped out of bed, her eyes finding a small clock hanging from the support pole in the middle of their tent. Just a little after eight. The normal time she would usually wake up, though she didn’t feel at ALL rested.

And hungry. She had barely been able to eat any of her dinner last night, too much turmoil, even with her mother holding her in her lap, encouraging her to eat. Though it was difficult, her misery draining her of her energy, she compelled her body to move, to leave the flaps of her tent.

The energy around the circus today was. . . Off. Normally, people would be bustling around, happy and eager to get about their business. And yeah, you saw some of that in the way SOME people were moving, but others? She saw some people leaning against poles, looking down at the ground, looking sad. She saw Egg, one of the happiest little clowns you’d ever seen, face in his hands, shaking, clearly crying. One of the other clowns, Abby, came over and hugged the little imp, and Barbie caught a few words as she past. “-All miss Blitzo too, Eggy.”

It hit Barbie, hit her in a way that she didn’t think that she could still hurt. Egg? Egg was missing Blitzo? Egg couldn’t go one DAY without ribbing Blitzo, whether it was his balloons, his jokes, or when Egg was in a particularly vindictive mood, his hygiene. And yet, here the little imp was, weeping over potentially never seeing Barbie’s twin brother ever again.

She. . . Wasn’t sure what it was. Why this particular scene was hitting Barbie so hard. Maybe it was the reality of it hitting her. Before, when she was by herself this morning, there was some small part of her that it REALLY had been a dream, that her brother HADN’T been sold off by her father to some fancy noble. That there was some part of her brain still hoping when she went and exited her tent, that she was gonna run into him, him trying to get her to play pirates with him. But she couldn’t pretend, could she? Not when other members of the circus were all miserable and crying over his disappearance as well. It was like someone was rubbing the reality of it, the truth of it in her face. Her brother was gone! Gone and NEVER coming back!

The very first tent that Barbie saw coming up, she shoved herself through the flaps. And because Hell FREAKING hated her, she found it was the FREAKING Hell horses tent. A place that Blitzo LOVED! WHY THE FUCK-

It was the camel that broke the straw’s back, or however the fuck that phrase went (Seriously, how’s a straw supposed to break a camel’s back. Don’t make no DAMN sense! Makes WAY more sense the other way around!), silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Barbie’s eyes whirled around the room, looking for a place to hide, finding a couple of bales of hay. The perfect place to hide and cry. She moved quickly, wanting to be out of sight before she began to cry, she was supposed to be a big girl after all. She leapt over the pile of bales of hay.

And crashed right on top of someone else. “GAH!”

Barbie was pulling herself off whoever she’s just crashed down, glaring down at the one who was interfering with her mourning of her twin brother.

And finds Fizzarolli, looking up at Barbie wide eyed and frightened. Tear streaks down his face, clearly, she hadn’t been the first to come her to cry.

Aaaaand now she felt worse. Great! She did her best to get the anger off her face. Yeah, she was still frustrated, but she would NOT be taking this out on Fizzarolli. SHE was the one in the wrong here. Jumping on top of him like this, even if she hadn’t known he was there, and now HE was the one looking scared and worried? That wasn’t right. “Sorry, Fizz!” She quickly crawled off of him, sitting down and grabbing him, pulling him back upright. “Sorry, thought I had an original idea. Turns out someone already claimed this spot, huh?”

The younger boy (Only by like a year.) Shook his head, seeming to settle down a little, but he was still nervous. “I can leave if you’d like to be alone, Barb.”

She snorted. “Yeah, no. I ain’t kicking you out your hiding place. Fair’s fair.” She settled down next to the younger boy, leaning back against the bales of hay. “Though I won’t say no if you wanted to share?” She was REALLY hoping that Fizz WAS in a sharing mood. Yeah, she would leave if the boy wanted to be alone, no complaints there, but. . .

Luckily, Fizzarolli, sweet and kind Fizzarolli, nestled up to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. He was a good kid, there was a reason that everyone liked him, even papa, and Papa didn’t seem like he liked ANYBODY. “How you doing, Barb?”

Barbie let out a sigh. “Not good.” She replied simply, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. That questioned just rubbed it in her face how much everything had changed, how her life was permanently different, what with her beloved twin brother was gone. She’d take that question from mama and Fizzy, but she was REALLY hoping that she wouldn’t have to be answering that question all day.

She felt Fizz shifting closer to her. “You uh. . . You wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She hated to think about, this new reality that she’d found herself in. This nightmare. Didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Maybe with mama some time later but for now? For now, she wrapped her arms around Fizz’s shoulder, pulling him a little closer.

“Then. . . You wanna just sit here quietly? Try to figure out what to do now?” She nodded at his question, the two children leaning their heads against each other, taking comfort from the other’s presence. It was. . . Something, not comforting, but not terrible. She could feel her depression and tears settling beneath the surface, grateful that for what she had lost, she still had SOMEONE.

It wasn’t much, but right now, with everything that was going on, it was enough. . .

But the moment didn’t last. Though they couldn’t see it, they heard the flaps to the tent parting. “Hello?” It was Barbie’s mother. “Anyone in here?”

She thought about answering her, thought about calling out to mama. But. . . She turned to Fizzarolli, her eyes silently asking the question. ‘Do we answer?’ She only got a shrug from the younger boy. ‘Your call.’ She shook her head. If mama started to sound panicked, then of COURSE she would answer. Mama had already lost a child, and Barbie couldn’t let her think that she’d lost another.

But mama didn’t sound concerned or panicked. She just sounded curious. “. . . Alright, we seem to be alone.”

Barbie only had a moment to contemplate her mother’s words before an unfamiliar voice rang out, deep and growly, not a voice that she had heard before. “Right. Now, repeat that amount?”

She turned to Fizzarolli, finding him covering his mouth and wide eyed, looking scared as mama’s voice rang out again. “Fifty thousand, for starters.”

Barbie pulled Fizzarolli in closer, opening her mouth to ask him if he knew who was talking, but he quietly shushed her. “For starters?” The voice asked.

“According to Cash, not only did he get fifty thousand from. . . From what he did, he also ended up with a sack or two of shit stolen from whatever Goetia’s mansion he went to yesterday.”

The unfamiliar voice hummed out. “Goetic trinkets tend ta fetch quite the penny on the black market. Other Goetias looking ta exploit their rival’s property, or even hellborn looking ta portray themselves as equal ta the highborn.” The voice ticked for a few seconds. “Depending on what he pilfered, you’re looking at potentially double or triple what he was paid initially.”

“And you think your boss would be interested in that amount?”

“He’d be interested even WITHOUT the sack of goods you’re talking about. Fifty thousand is nothing to scoff at.” The mystery man made an approving noise with his throat. “You’re doing a good thing, Miss Wire. Crimson’s gonna remember that you were THIS cooperative when we discuss the monthly payment plans on Cash’s. . . Insurance policy with us. He might even get himself some grace cause of your openness bout all this.”

“Well I. . .” Mama sounded a little nervous and Barbie could hear her shuffling on her feet. “I admit, Alessio, I AM telling you all this because. . . I don’t WANT you to show him any grace.”

Barbie was confused by all this. There was a sinisterness to all this, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was. The mystery voice spoke after a long moment of silence. “. . . Is that right?” There was a hum of agreement from mama. “I admit, I’m real curious. You saying yous two ain’t together no more, now this? What exactly did Cash do to get you so riled up now?”

There was the sound of a swallow before mama spoke again. “That fifty thousand he came home with?” The other voice, named Alessio apparently made a hum of acknowledgement. “That came from my son, Blitzo. Apparently, one of the princes took a liking to him, and talked Cash into selling Blitzo to him. . . Alessio, Cash threw my son away!”

The pain in mama’s voice almost made Barbie run out and comfort her, but she stayed in place. Something. . . Something about this was all off, and she had this strange feeling that she would be in trouble if it was revealed that she and Fizzarolli were hearing all this. She instead, pulled the younger boy closer, him wrapping his arms around her too, seemingly lost and confused by all this too.

Alessio made a little growl. “. . . My condolences.” He cleared his throat. “But even still, whether or not Crimson sympathizes with your grievance, he ain’t just gonna wanna take such. . . Drastic measures over your. . . Family drama, no offense. Regardless of Cash’s stinginess and how much we gotta wring his arm, literally or otherwise, every month for your. . . Insurance payment, Crimson ain’t just gonna agree ta cut off a source of cash flow like this just on your say so.”

Mama made a swallow and began to speak again. “This doesn’t have to affect your boss’s cash flow. I’m not suggesting that this has to change much. I’m merely. . .” There was a shuffling of feet. “I’m merely asking for a change in leadership.”

“Ah, there it is.” Alessio sounded amused. “So it’s a ladder climbing move.”

“That isn’t my motive. More a. . .” She let out a sigh. “Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t want this. This whole leadership thing. It’s always looked to be stressful to me. In my condition, that’s probably not going to help. But. . . He SOLD one of my children yesterday!”

“And as I said, you have my sympathies for it.” Alessio replied. “But I’m questioning WHY you’re even making this request. Ain’t you under enough stress as it?”

“I HAVE to do this! It’s not just about me anymore!” Mama cried out, letting out a string of coughs. When she spoke again, she sounded shaky. “Cash is an ASS, but I always assumed my children were safe from the worst of his SHIT! They’re HIS kids too after all, he HAS to care about them on SOME level, right?! . . . Apparently not. He sold off Blitzo! My son, my baby, HIS son. . . And that FUCK sold him off!! And I have NO idea if the mood to do the same to my daughter will ever strike him!”

A little hiss left Barbie’s lips, the idea of that scene taking hold of her, given away to a noble, who knows what would happen to her! Fizzarolli caught her distress, hugging her tighter, though a part of it seemed to be finding the idea of losing her too so soon after Blitzo distressing. Mama let out a fierce growl. “I cannot take that risk, and this is NOT a mistake that he gets to brush off!”

There was an exhale from this Alessio, the sound of a tapping foot. After a long moment, he spoke. “. . . I’ll let Crimson know you wanna make a case to him.”

Mama breathed out, sounding relieved. “Thank you, Alessio.”

“Don’t thank me yet Miss Wire.” Barbie heard the sound of crunching hay, footsteps getting closer to the tent flap. “As I said, you got my sympathies, but that don’t mean I’m your advocate. My loyalty to Crimson will ALWAYS come first. If he say this isn’t happening or he refuses to meet with you, this ain’t happening, period. Understand?”

Mama let out an annoyed huff. “I understand. . .”

“I hope you do, Miss Wire.” Alessio replied, a dark edge to his tone. “Crimson’s word is LAW. He says this ain’t happening and something happens ta Cash after Crimson’s turned down your case. . . You still got plenty that you can lose, Miss Wire. You hearing me?”

“I said I understand, Alessio.” Mama sounded a little annoyed.

“Good. Now you just be patient, this might take some time.” The sounds of the circus outside got a little louder, that along with the sound of fabric moving seemed to indicate the tent flaps had been parted. “If Crimson agrees to meet with you, let you make your case, he’ll bring the wife and son down here to see your show. Moxxie’s old enough that he might actually get something out of it at this point. He’ll meet with while the show’s going on, and you can make your case. If he refuses to meet with you, or he’s taking a while to come to a decision, I’ll tell you face ta face next month when I drop by ta pick up your insurance fee. Understand?”

There were no audible reply from Mama, but this Alessio hummed in approval, so she might’ve nodded. “Well, thank you for the tip, Miss Wire. We’ll speak again soon. Until then.” The sounds became more muted, and there nothing but the sounds of Mama breathing.

A loud exhale, a desperation that Barbie had never heard from Mama, a little groan. “Mammon, please!?” A shuddering breath was the last sound Mama made as Barbie heard the tent flap open again, the sound of the outside growing luder and then muting. And with that, Barbie and Fizzarolli were left alone again.

It was a long moment before either child spoke, Barbie finding her voice first. “Fizz?” He looked at her, wide eyed and confused. “Who was that? You seem like you recognized the voice.”

The boy shook his head. “Only from this morning. Some kind of insurance man named Alessio. He came up to Aunt Tilla earlier, wanting to know where Mr. Buckzo was.”

Barbie tilted her head. “And. . . Do you have ANY idea what he and mama were talking about just now.”

Fizzarolli shook his head. “I don’t, but. . .” The younger imp wringed his hands. “Aunt Tilla talked like it was possible that Alessio was gonna hurt Mr. Buckzo. She said she was HOPING he would.”

And after papa had come home without Blitzo, bragging about how much he’d made selling her twin brother off, Barbie could sympathize. . . “Sounds like that isn’t off the table yet, if what mama was saying was any indication.”

Fizzarolli whined. “I don’t want anyone hurt! Not even Mr. Buckzo!” He cradled his face in his hands, shaking. “I just want life to go back to normal!”

Barbie couldn’t agree more. . . She means, on the life going back to normal thing. Honestly, she could go for papa taking a few hits to the face for all he’d done yesterday. But she couldn’t say that out loud, not to Fizzarolli who hated violence and blood more than anything. So she settled on a little nod, even if the younger boy couldn’t see it, face buried in his hands and shaking like he was. She hugged the younger boy, trying to bring him comfort.

It. . . It wasn’t the same. Blitzo. . . He had a unique feel to him, one that Fizzarolli couldn’t emulate. Then again, maybe Barbie was being unfair. After all things were different now, she couldn’t exactly ask Fizz to feel like her brother, now could she. She wouldn’t be like papa, telling one boy to be more like the other.

She hugged tighter. He wasn’t Blitzo, but Fizz was a warm presence, some familiar part of her life that was still here, something to cling to give her life meaning and joy.

Right now, right now that was enough. She just. . . She hoped it would stay that way.

Chapter Text

It had been Stolas’s experience in life that nothing was ever easy. And if things WERE, there was something amiss.

On some level, he understand that fact of life. He was a member of the Goetic family. He was burdened with purpose, to assist the Sins and the royal Morningstar family with the administration of Hell. As his father had told him yesterday, Prince Stolas would one day study the stars of the mortal realm, recording the prophecies and signs of the universe, passing along any knowledge that he could that would useful to the ruling family, any sort of knowledge that could give Hell a leg up on Heaven when the final clash between the demons and angels commenced. He would train legions, building the armies of his home for the same purpose. It was sacred duty of any member of the Goetic lineage. If their lives were simple, then they would be no better than the low born.

. . . That last part left a bitter taste in Stolas’s beak. While some loyal and ingrained part of him might’ve chastised him for denying the words of his father, but at the current moment. . . His head turned to look behind him, his eyes finding the two imps standing behind him. At the current moment, after what had happened to the smaller imp, his first ever friend, Blitzo. . .

He was standing there, Mister Butler adjusting his new clothes, these ones much more fitting to the staff of Paimon’s estate. . . Not that Blitzo should have been a member of the King’s staff. . . If not for Stolas. . . The smaller imp noticed Stolas’s gaze and cried out. “HEY! You promised you wouldn’t look!”

“Young man!” Mister Butler chastised, though his voice didn’t rise, nor did his hands stop working on the bow tie he was adjusting on Blitzo’s neck. “Again, you keep your tone RESPECTFUL of your lord. Secondly, you’re almost fully dressed now, so there’s no reason for him to avert his eyes any further.”

“It’s the principle of things! That’s one of those big words the both of y’all seem to like so freaking much!” The boy huffed and fidgeted as Mister Butler finished with the bow tie. “URGH, seriously!? I have to wear something like this?”

“It’s not so bad, young man.” The older imp spoke, traces of amusement present in his voice, a wonder for the Prince watching all this. The elder imp had always been so proper and stoic, the perfect attendant, father had once called him (The highest praise indeed from King Paimon.). “You’ll grow used to it given time. Besides, it’s a good look for you. Proper and dashing.”

Stolas took in the image of Blitzo’s new look. Gone were the rugged rags and suspenders that the child had been wearing since yesterday, replaced with a white dress shirt, a partially open black vest, a single button done around the young boy’s stomach. His pants were black as well as his shoes, typical servant attire. . . Much as it pained him to see his friend in such attire, forced into this role, he couldn’t help the words that came out of his beak. “You look handsome.”

Blitzo glanced over at the prince for a moment, scoffing and looking away (And thus, Stolas was spared his friend looking at him while his mind caught up with what he’d just said and fighting DESPERATELY to get the blush off his face, though he was NOT spared Mister Butler raising a brow at Stolas. The only grace of the elder imp was that he had the good grace to look back at the younger imp once the blush began to emerge on the owl’s face.), looking at himself in the mirror. “I suppose. . . Though I still liked my old clothes better.” Blitzo let out a little whine, pulling at the bow tie around his neck, though his hands were quickly pulled away by Mister Butler. “They’re so DULL. Like I’m gonna fade away into the background!”

“. . . I’m afraid such is our purpose, young man.” Mister Butler replied, his hand patting the younger imp on the back. “To serve the nobility from the background, our lives and presence fading away unnoticed. It is not a glamorous existence, but it is ours.”

Both prince and former circus clown stared at the older imp and resolved tone. While Stolas couldn’t really speak to Blitzo’s feelings on such a statement, Stolas was incredibly bothered by such words. Blitzo was. . . Was such a bright spot. From the very moment he had laid eyes on this imp, he’d thought he shone so brightly, that he was truly destined for great things. This whole thing, being condemned to life as Stolas’s servant (He needed to figure out a new word, one that felt less dirty and dignified for his friend. Attendant? Second? Something less demeaning then servant at the least.), just twisted Stolas's insides with guilt over what his words had wrought. He didn’t very well like the elder imp encouraging Blitzo to see himself as lesser.

And now that the concept had had a few seconds to linger, he didn’t like the elder imp seeing himself like that either. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something deeply wrong with it.

“. . . Hey, offense intended, but I hope I never turn out like you.” Blitzo said plainly to the older imp, giving him a brow raise. “You’re kinda a real downer.”

There was a cough that sounded suspiciously like amusement from the older imp. “And here I normally find honesty an admirable trait.” The older man straightened up, taking one last look at the younger imp. “Well, you appear to be in order. Come, young man. The King Paimon awaits.”

Prince Stolas stepped forward, joining the two imps. “Indeed, best not to keep father waiting. Lead the way, Sir Butler.”

The elder imp seemed to be surprised by that, turning his head to look at the young owl with a raised brow. “You were serious when you said you intended to attend Blitzo’s meeting with your father as well, my Prince?”

“Of course.” Stolas nodded, stepping to Blitzo’s side (The boy shifted but made no move to step away from the owl. A good sign?). “Father. . . Gave me this young man, and I should be seeing what he expects of Blitzo. . . And I have my own questions for father about this arrangement.”

Sir Butler offered a polite bow. “As my Prince commands.” The elder imp walked to the bedroom door, pulling it open and holding it for the two children, making another bow (Seriously, he’d never noticed it before but Stolas was starting to have some serious concerns for the older man’s spine.). “Come then. It’s not a good idea to keep a King of the Ars Goetia waiting.”

No, it most certainly was not. So they walked, the older imp leading the imp and owl children through the halls. Stolas marveled. The second time he was to see his father two days in a row. Astonishing, unprecedented. . . Another time, he might’ve felt honored that his busy father would take time to see him two days in a row when normally, the young owlet would’ve been lucky to see King Paimon once a month.

But the circumstances of all this. Blitzo receiving his orders from the King, his new role in life. . . The taste was bitter, and Stolas could gather no excitement for the upcoming meeting.

The door to Paimon’s throne room came into view, and a feeling of dread built. Apparently, the feeling was a shared one, as Stolas felt a hand grab at his, like someone seeking comfort. He looked to the side, finding Blitzo’s hand having grabbed the owl’s, squeezing in desperation, the limb shivering. Stolas squeezed back, his beak forming what he hoped was a comforting smile. Blitzo scoffed, his face instantly contorting into one of confidence and annoyance, but he notably did not pull away from Stolas’s hand. “Big freaking doors in this place. Making things more complicated than they need to be. You know, if you guys didn’t get so big, you wouldn’t have to pay extra for larger door installations. Or you guys could learn to duck.”

Stolas giggled a little, finding the whole ramble Blitzo appeared to be doing to calm his nerves amusing. Much like the multiple times that the imp boy had made Stolas laugh since coming here, the positive reception to his jokes and snark appeared to make the boy bristle in pride.

They were through the door a few seconds later, King Paimon sitting there, reading a scroll, not even glancing up at the trio as they entered. Stolas stepped forward ahead of the two imps, offering a little bow to the King. “Father.” He greeted.

The King’s eyes lifted from the scroll for a second before returning to reading. “Ah. Hello, Andras.”

Stolas brow raised at that, but he wasn’t the first one to speak. That distinction belonged to Blitzo. “Wha- I thought you said your name was Stolas?”

Stolas opened his mouth to speak, but again, he was beaten to it by another, his father this time. “Ah, yes! Very good, little imp! You are learning the name of my son quite well, as you should now that you belong to him.” Paimon placed the scroll he had been reading down, standing from his throne, muttering to himself. “_{And this is AGAIN why we don’t have multiple children with the same form. Make this whole distinguishing them so much more complicated than it needs to be. . .}”

Stolas didn’t quite understand his father’s muttering but he had no time to process the strange words as the King carried on, drawing the prince’s focus. “Now then, how have you been enjoying your present, my son?” The King circled Stolas, a smile on his face, looking down at the owl boy, some excitement on the older man’s face. “It’s been behaving? Cooperating? When I left you last night, it seemed practically catatonic. I’m assuming that you managed to get it to play with you again after I left?”

Stolas’s eyes narrowed at the callousness in his father’s tone. Practically catatonic!? The man had come in, told Blitzo that he belonged to Stolas now and had said that he would never see his family again! Stolas frankly wouldn’t have blamed the little imp boy if he was STILL catatonic! Still, he swallowed his defiance. As much as such an outburst would be cathartic, the consequences that it would wrought would make it ill advised. Besides, he’d already wrought enough with his words as was. “I’ve had no objections to his behavior.”

“How wonderful to hear.” His father clapped his hands and puffed up in delight. “What father does not delight at his son enjoying his birthday gift?”

Biting his tongue was getting harder and harder for Stolas. The way Paimon spoke of Blitzo. . . “Speaking of which, Imp, step forward.” Said boy seemed to hesitate, to the point where Mister Butler could be seen gently pushing the child forward. “The clown boy, the one I got you? It’s the one on the left, correct?”

Stolas eyes widened as his father leaned down to him, whispering in her ear, and asking that question. He was indeed correct, Blitzo was on the left while Mister Butler was on the right, whispering something to the younger imp while he gently pushed him forward to obey King Paimon’s summons. But the fact that he needed to ask. . . “Father, the only other imp in here is Mister Butler.” Stolas tried HARD to keep his tone respectful as he whispered back, but the absurdness of all this?

“Ah, well the man has changed his look around so many times over these past four hundred years, you can never tell.” Paimon waved his hand in dismissal.

“. . . Father, imps don’t live for four hundred years.” Stolas didn’t manage to keep his exasperation out of his tone on that one. “I won’t even live for four hundred years!”

“And I’m TRYING not to hold that failure against you, believe me. A task exasperated when you bawl your eyes out over a simple engagement, I’ll have you know.” Stolas wasn’t even sure why they were still whispering. Blitzo and Mister Butler had both stepped forward, their eyes shifting back and worth as they watched Stolas and his father talking in whispered words that the two could ABSOLUTELY hear. “Another thing I’ll have you know, Mister Butler has been serving my estate faithfully for four hundred years, and has done well during all that time. . . Granted every fifty years or so, he looks like he gets younger, his horns, hair and face seem to change, and the quality of his works suffers for a few weeks, but other than that, he’s served me well these past four centuries. An exceptional imp, as much of an oxymoron the term ‘exceptional imp’ is.” The king chuckled to himself, straightening himself back up, all while Stolas looked up at him, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing, the callousness of the implications.

“So. . . Are you like, one of those people that have plastic surgery every few years to keep yourself young?” Blitzo whispered over to Mister Butler, the elder imp leaning down to the boy’s level.

“Ah, no young man. There WAS a Mister Butler some centuries ago, but in the wake of his death, another imp stepped in to take his place and the King Paimon didn’t notice, nor did he feel need to waste his time learning this new imp’s name. Thus there has been a LONG line of Mister Butlers that have served in his stead, taking his name and role as King Paimon’s manservant.” The elder imp whispered back to the younger boy, impressively not sounding the least bit bothered by ANY of that, a sentiment Stolas could not share. “As I told you earlier, my mother had VERY specific ambitions for me.”

“Ah, but enough pleasant chit chat.” King Paimon clapped his hands, stepping forward to look down at the child imp, who grasped at Mister Butler’s hand, the man seeming to have no objections if the squeeze he made to said hand was any indications. “Clown boy, happy to see we’ve already gotten you fitted to some better suited clothes for you role, which I will now decree for you. Be honored. Normally, someone like you wouldn’t be worthy of my time.”

“Oh I’m feeling the honor, believe me.” Stolas’s eyes widened as, much as he’d feared, a tone of irreverence emanated from the boy’s words. Mister Butler also looked worried, even squeezing Blitzo’s hand with a quiet shush.

Thankfully, Paimon either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Hard to tell. “Excellent! To recognize the honor of all this so quickly means you’ll go far here. . . Or as far as an imp can go.” The massive owl demon coughed into his hand, continuing on. “Anyway, I’m quite the busy man, so I’ll make this quick. You have been brought into this estate to serve my son as his playmate, his companion. Your purpose, your very reason for being is to keep him entertained and happy.”

Stolas’s father leaned down to Blitzo and whispered into his ear, not that the Prince and elder imp couldn’t hear him plain. “Which between you and me, should be a simple task. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the boy seems easily placated. Simple tastes and all that, yeah?”

Much like many things his father had said during this meeting, Stolas wasn’t sure how to respond to such a statement, though that may have been from rising panic as once again, his friend let loose ill-advised words, giving the prince something else to focus on . “From everything I’ve seen, simple runs in the family.”

Though once again, Paimon either missed the insult or ignored it completely, Stolas wasn’t sure which. “You’ll likely see more than a few additional members of the Goetia family in your service to my son, you’ll see, the poor lad’s an outlier, rather than the standard, thankfully.” Stolas actually found himself WISHING Paimon would stop whispering like his father was trying to hide the words from him when Stolas could hear EVERY word. Though a moment later, it seemed the universe acknowledged his hope and his father stood upright again. “You shall amuse my son in any way he wishes, no matter how ridiculous or absurd his request may be. You are his playmate, his toy, and you shall act as such. Understand?”

Blitzo looked up glaring at the King. The King’s eyes narrowed slightly, spiking the fear in Stolas, opening his beak to speak up for the boy, though thankfully, he wasn’t the only one on Blitzo’s defense here, as Mister Butler pushed on Blitzo’s back, forcing the boy to join the elder imp in a bow. “He understands, Sire.”

Blitzo could be heard growling at the elder imp as Paimon spoke back up. “Oh I know YOU understand, manservant. But such a declaration from YOU on his behalf is WORTHLESS to me. I want to hear his acknowledgement of his place from his own mouth.” There was a spike of energy through the room, strong enough that the two imps, though having no ability to wield magic, felt it just as intensely as Stolas. A clear warning from the King. “I ask you one last time, clown boy before I MAKE you understand. What is your place?”

Stolas found Blitzo’s eyes, begging him wordlessly to just fall in line. He could only do so much for the boy, but he had no chance shielding him from Paimon’s wrath, at least not when his attitude was THIS open. He could see the silent plea taking root, the boy breathing out miserably, finally speaking in a blank tone. “Fine. I’m his playmate. . . His toy.” Stolas’s heart tore at all of this, the tone that had no place in the boy’s bright demeanor. He WOULD make up for this, somehow, someday. He had to!

“Good lad.” The dark tone and tense atmosphere disappeared in an instant, Paimon’s tone lightening. “Now, as said, you will serve my son as a playmate until he grows too mature for such thing. _{Here’s hoping sooner rather than later, Almighty Lucifer be willing, but I have no high hopes here.}”

Stolas flinched at the harsh words whispered from his father’s beak. What had he done to disappoint his father that the King had so little faith in him? What did he do wrong? “Anyway, after he outgrows you as a toy and or playmate, you will begin training as a member of this estate. As said, the FIRST of my son’s household staff, such an HONOR, wouldn’t you agree, little clown?” Blitzo made a little shrug, though still looked resentful. “Bah, well, perhaps you’ll come to appreciate this honor when you’re smarter?”

Blitzo let out a little growl. “Don’t you mean older?”

“Whichever one comes first I suppose.” The King made a dismissing motion, Sir Butler quickly pulling Blitzo away, clearly perturbed by how much of an attitude the younger imp was giving the King. “Well, I’ve much to do today, Goetias to meet and laws to enforce, so if there’s nothing else?”

Stolas cleared his throat, motioning for Sir Butler to keep escorting Blitzo out of the throne room. “Actually, father? May I ask you something?”

Paimon let out a loud huff of annoyance, his hands falling to his side and his head tilted upwards. “_{It’s always something. . .}” The King muttered before shifting back into a gentle smile, clapping his hands and motioning for the boy to speak. “Yes, my dear boy? What is it, what do you want? Out with it, quickly now.”

Stolas took a breath, his eyes only darting over the retreating imp duo when the door closed, signaling that he was now alone with his father. “Well, father. I was wondering. Blitzo is. . . Mine to do with as I please, yes?” Those words felt disgusting against his beak, but he powered through them, holding them untrue in his heart.

Paimon waved his hand, as though this conversation was tedious for him. “Yes, yes, whatever you like, whatever tickles your-.” He seemed to freeze up and consider something. “Actually, no sex. Do NOT have sex with the imp!”

Stolas tilted his head. “What’s. . . Sex?”

Father stared at Stolas for a few seconds, seemingly considering something. “. . . How old are you again?”

“. . . It was my birthday yesterday. . .”

“Exactly!” The King snapped his fingers with a smile. “It comes along so quickly and so often. Am I truly expected to keep such a close eye on a number that’s constantly changing so often?”

“I’m your son. . .” Stolas whimpered. He knew his father could be forgetful at times, but this?

“Well, you’re certainly not acting like it right now.” Stolas eyes widened and his beak fell open at the words. “After all, children are supposed to be obedient to their parents, aren’t they? And yet, here I am having to twist your arm to get the answer to a FAIRLY simple question.”

“. . . Ten, father. I’m ten now. . .”

“Hmmm, ten?” The King seemed to consider the number. “Well, I suppose I don’t have to worry about you having sex with an imp, bringing eternal shame and disgrace on our family just yet. . . Nor ever. Do you understand me? I don’t care if I just told you that you could do what you like with him. You will NOT sully our good name with such degeneracy as having sex with a peasant, am I understood?”

Stolas quickly nodded, even if he didn’t understand what he was being forbidden from doing. Still, the way his father’s voice had darkened and the glare that had formed on the King’s face. . . He had no recourse but to agree. Maybe he could ask Sir Butler later?

The nod seemed to settle whatever concerns his father had had, the smile returning to his face. “Excellent! As said, you can do anything you like to it, have it DO anything you want, just so long as you avoid sex with it. Does that answer your question, my son?”

“It answers the lead in, thank you father.” Paimon’s eye twitched but waved his hand for Stolas to continue. “You’ve said that I am free to do with him as I please, even when I inherit this estate, when I take on my role as Prince of the Ars Goetia properly?”

“Yes, yes, you are free to command and do with him as you like, with the exception of what I just forbade, so long as you live. Is there a POINT to this tedious conversation you’re carrying on, because I am more and more considering that you are PURPOSELY wasting my time?”

Stolas swallowed, again growing nervous (And somewhat hurt that his father considered a conversation with him as wasted time. They saw each other so infrequently.), yet pushed on. “So, if I wanted to, I could, say, release him from my service when I reach adulthood and take on my duties?”

Paimon seemed to consider Stolas blankly for a moment before leaning down. “. . . And why would you consider releasing the boy from your service if, as you said minutes ago, that you had no objections to his behavior?” His father narrowed his eyes. “Are you lying to me, Stolas? Has that little imp boy not been living up to your expectations? Because if the clown boy has been failing to live up to the standards that our servants are held to, that is EASILY rectified.”

Stolas heart jolted in his chest as his father’s hand raised, beating with a chilling black aura. ‘N-n-NO! Of course not, father!” That seemed to calm his father, his hand lowering and the aura dissipating, looking at Stolas with curiosity in his eyes. “If anything, he’s been EXCEEDING my expectations!”

Paimon raised his brow. “Then why in HELL are you talking about releasing him from your service?”

Maybe because you bought him off his parents and enslaved him to me, and I have to do EVERYTHING I can to ensure he can live free one day, you. . . Even in the privacy of his inner thoughts, Stolas didn’t dare insult his father. Instead, he steeled his face, keeping his tone even, choosing every word carefully. “Blitzo, the clown boy? It’s already been one day, but he has at every impasse exceeded the expectations I’ve had of him.” Not technically a lie, as Stolas was in every way impressed with how well Blitzo was handling all of this. Ripped away from his family, told that his life was now one of a. . . A slave, and yet, in spite of how much the boy cried (Which Stolas did not in ANY way blame him or judge him for.), the younger boy still had remarkable strength and will. He was defiant (Not always advisably so, but Stolas admired it regardless.), and fierce. He was not cowed or submissive. He was the opposite, and Stolas would ALWAYS respect that kind of spirit. “I was thinking, with so many servants that will no doubt come flocking to my service, I was thinking. Releasing him from my service when I come into adulthood seems a suitable reward for such dedicated service.” He finished with a smile, hoping his father would buy this explanation.

“You’re an idiot.” It took Stolas a few seconds to process his father’s words, after which his beak feel open and he let out a little squawk. “There is no other way to classify the NONSENSE that just spewed from your beak just now, Stolas. You’re an idiot.”

“Father. . .” Stolas whined a little.

“No, shut up for a moment and let me walk you through this, stupid boy.” Paimon put his finger on Stolas’s beak and shushed. “So, by your own admission, I’ve gone ahead and gotten you an EXCEPTIONAL imp servant, a rather generous gift if I do say so myself.” The King’s feathers bristled in pride as he made a close eyed smug smile for a moment.

“An imp that exceeds all expectations. . . And your response to such a GIFT, LITERALLY falling into your lap, is to allow him to LEAVE!” Paimon leaned into Stolas face, his eyes seemingly searching for a sign of SOMETHING. “YOU, are a future prince of the Ars Goetia, charged with reading the stars for prophecies and signs for the benefit of the Almighty Morningstar family. You have a sacred DUTY to Almighty Lucifer on high, and it is our obligation to take on good staves to oversee our day to day lives, so that we might leave such meaningless drivel to the side to devote ourselves fully to our duties. . . And you seek to DISCARD the first of your staff, when he has been fulfilling your standards in one DAY!? If that isn’t a sign of drooling STUPIDITY of the highest order, Stolas, then I WEEP for our kingdom, because apparently, there exists even WORSE morons then YOU out there, and Hell is doomed for it!”

By the end of the rant, Stolas is shivering and trying not to cry. The words ringing out in his head. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. MORON!

“By Lucifer’s Almighty LIGHT! A part of me is so relieved that you ran this idea by me before you committed to such an act of stupidity, and another part of me weeps at the fact you HAD such a stupid thought in the first place! Oh, you are LUCKY that your impending marriage means you are not so easily replaced, Stolas. SO lucky. . .” Stolas looked up at his father, eyes watering and wide. Was he being threatened right now!? “Now, I command you, drop such thoughts. Enjoy your gift, and from now on, I expect you to more carefully consider the repercussions of your ideas and actions. What would other Goetic lords think of you if they heard about how you’re releasing exceptional servants from your service? ‘Why this Prince must be such a fool, easily exploited and circumvented.’ Such slander against you. Have you ANY idea how much more difficult your life will become? How much more vulnerable you will be broadcasting such mental deficiency? Even your STAFF will take advantage of you! And all of THAT is not even getting into how BADLY that will reflect on ME!!”

Paimon grabbed Stolas’s chin, pulling him gently forward, but the ever tightening grip on his chin made it clear that there was no affection in the gesture. “Stolas, dear child of mine. You will forget this foolish thought and never bring it up again. Understand?” Stolas quickly nodded, and his chin was released and the King made a single pat on the boy’s head. “Now, PLEASE tell me you are done wasting my time with STUPID questions. I fear that if I have to listen to your meaningless nonsense much longer, I may begin to lose brain cells.”

Stolas suspected that that would be no big loss. From what he’d seen, there weren’t that many to begin with.

. . .

The Prince’s eyes widened as he realized the thought that had just flowed unbidden through his head. He had just. . . Insulted his father. Not out loud mind you, but it was still a surprise.

“Hello?” Snapping fingers came into view.

Stolas shook his head, and nodded his head. “Yes, father. That was all.”

Paimon let out a loud sigh of relief. “Ah, thank Almighty Lucifer! This conversation has been severely distressing to me.” Stolas had to agree, just not for the same reason. . . “Then please, leave and do. . . Whatever it is you do when I’m not here. We shall talk the next time I return to this estate.”

Which likely wouldn’t be for a month or two. For once, such a thought was a relief. Stolas turned to leave the throne room. He thought about turning around and leaving his father with his usual words of farewell.

‘I love you, father!’

But. . .

‘Hm? Oh, yes. Thank you.’

Why bother? He wasn’t even sure his father returned that sentiment anymore. . . Whether the King EVER had. . .

That was the depressing spiral of thoughts that followed the young owl as he walked down the hall, returning to his room, wanting desperately a hug, but nobody to ask.

He’d failed his friend. It was the only thought he’d had, the only idea that would grant Blitzo his freedom. Only to have those hopes dashed by his father. . . Why!? The prince could do nothing but stop in the middle of the hall, stamping his foot. This was his fault and he had to fix it, release Blitzo so that the boy could go back to his family! WHY!? Why was this so bloody difficult!? Why was his father so insistent on keeping the boy here!? The King couldn’t even tell the boy apart from his own personal manservant who’d apparently served him for decades, what did he care-

. . .

The thought gave the Prince some pause, his foot ceasing it’s stomps, his digits tapping against the floor.  Now, there was an idea. The King couldn’t apparently tell imps apart. What if instead of releasing Blitzo, what if he replaced Blitzo entirely?

He couldn’t do it for years, after all, as much as Stolas desired to grant his friend freedom, he couldn’t condemn another child to Blitzo’s fate, tear ANOTHER imp child from their family. But years from now, when Stolas was anointed as Prince of the Ars Goetia, when he took over this estate and his duties, he would have plenty of time to find a similar imp, someone who could fill in as a stand in for Blitzo. Not to the extent of what was happening with Mister Butler, but whenever Father came to visit (IF his father saw fit to visit him that was. . .), it would a simple task of pretending that imp was Blitzo, only for them to return to their true identity once the King left.

A smile formed on Stolas’s beak as this gambit began to take shape in his mind. Yes, it was so simple but. . . To fool his father, who could hardly tell individual imps apart, it seemed like an efficient gambit. Yes, YES! The owl began to continue his walk back to his room, rubbing his hands together and smiling as he schemed (And seemingly startling a few servants that walked past him.). Yes, it would be years before the Prince could give Blitzo the freedom that the boy was so owed, but this was so simple, safe, and. . . Just PERFECT!

A part of Stolas’s mind whispered for him to temper his expectations, reminding him of the rules of life, that when things SEEMED simple, that was when you needed to be most on guard. The young owlet took a breath. Yes, he needed to be careful and vigilant. This may seem simple and perfect, but he was still planning on pulling one over on his father, King of the Ars Goetia. This would require planning and refining. And it would be years before he could set this plan to free Blitzo into motion. But even still, having a goal and potential end game gave the young Prince a bit of hope, soothed some of the hurt from that meeting with his father (Though not all of it. . . He doesn’t think he’ll be getting over all this hurtful things King Paimon had said for a while. . .).

He saw the door to his room come into view, hearing hissed voices piercing the door.

“-KING of the Ars Goetia, and your attitude-“

“He was a complete ASS!”

“Language! And you need to start accepting the fact that you’re required to show respect to your betters!”

Stolas stopped right outside the door, leaning his head a little in, wanting to hear a little of whatever was going on, even if he knew eavesdropping was rude.

“Respect is EARNED, and that guy-“

The voice of a frustrated sounding Mister Butler cut Blitzo off. “HAS earned it by virtue of birth. . . Or existence. . . Honesty, some of the things he says, I’m not quite sure whether or not he WAS born as much as- Bah! The point BEING, King Paimon is one of the Kings of the Ars Goetia, answerable ONLY to the Seven Sins, one of the most high and powerful beings in all Hell! YOU, and by extension, I, are mere imps, near the BOTTOM of the social hierarchy! We are lowly creatures who may be killed without explanation or repercussions by the upper class such as he! Do you NOT understand that the King would have been WELL within his rights to KILL you for the attitude you showed him in there, and neither I, nor the young Prince would have had ANY recourse in response!?”

Stolas flinched at the words, the silence that followed making the words stew far more than if the argument had simply carried on. It was a heavy silence, not even the sound of their breathing could be heard through the door. But eventually, the older imp’s voice filtered through the door, much quieter and gentler then before. “I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. What’s happened to you is VERY unfair, but there’s nothing that can be done to reverse it. You are servant to the Goetia family now and must-“

Stolas had heard enough, he had to cut this off. Did Blitzo need to be lectured about watching his mouth in front of father and other Goetias? Yes. But reinforcing the idea of his inferiority? No, there was no need for that. He pushed forward on the doors, joining the two imps in his room. “Sir Butler?”

The younger imp was slumped over on the floor, hugging himself, looking misty eyed, but not crying, a little angry glare directed at the older imp, who rose up, having been knelt down in front of Blitzo, hands on the boy’s shoulders, and bowed at Stolas. “Yes, young master?”

“Can you have lunch fetched for me and my. . . My guest?” Stolas needed to figure out something to call Blitzo. He didn’t like the idea of calling the younger boy his servant, and calling him a guest just sounded like he was downplaying his friend’s circumstances. . . Perhaps his friend was what he should call him?

. . . Did he even have that right anymore?

Still, the older imp nodded. “Of course, young master. I actually sent word to have lunch prepared before I came back to help dress Blitzo, so, if all goes well, it should be ready by the time I get to the kitchen.” Sir Butler bowed and walked out of the room, though not without one last quick glance to his fellow imp.

The room seemed to ring with silence after the elder imp left. Tension so thick you could see it in the air. Stolas stood there, looking into those little vulnerable eyes glaring up at him. He. . . Didn’t know what to say, what he SHOULD say. There were so many words that the Prince owed him, Blitzo. So MUCH that he owed the boy. Stolas lowered himself to sit on the floor, his eyes never leaving Blitzo’s own.

It was. . . Hard, meeting those little glaring eyes. Those eyes that’d yesterday entranced Stolas, so confident and bright. To see them like this? That. . . That hurt far worse than Stolas had thought possible.

“Um. . .” Stolas was unsure how to start. Should he see if his friend was alright, offer him comfort (Even if he suspected the imp would never accept it.)? Should he just outright tell Blitzo that he had a plan, a potential way forward? He didn’t know. Now that he was here, sitting in front of him, after all his excitement, all of his linger thoughts on the talk he’d had with his father, Stolas’s tongue refused to make words to begin this conversation.

As with many times these past two days, Blitzo was the first to speak proper, another admirable trait that Stolas was grateful for (Even if the young boy needed a gentle lecture about who he could and could not insult openly and blatantly. Insult Stolas? That was fine. . . He deserved it anyway. But King Paimon!?). “Your dad’s an ASSHOLE!”

Stolas marveled at the bravery there. It was only TODAY that Stolas had even reached the point where he had thrown an insult at the man in the privacy of his own thoughts. “I. . . Don’t disagree.” On instinct, Stolas whirled around his head to look around the room, as if the King could’ve heard the insult and materialized behind them. Stolas saw nothing, but he remained paranoid as he turned his head back to meet his friend’s eyes, which were shining with amusement, a little brighter, now that someone had agreed with him. “Still, I must back up Sir Butler in asking you to refrain from insulting him so openly.”

Blitzo scoffed and that (Beautiful) brightness in his eyes disappeared. “Like freaking broken records, the both of you!” The younger boy crossed his arms, glaring out of the corner of his eyes. “You sure you’re an owl? Cause you’re acting like a parrot!”

Stolas snorted in amusement. He wasn’t sure how the boy did it, having a funny response to EVERYTHING that Stolas or anyone said. He truly didn’t know why the other boy that Blitzo had been performing with had been the more popular one.

Still, the Prince shook his head, clearing the mirth trickling into his mood. “I’ll repeat what I said, what Sir Butler says until you truly understand, Blitzo. I admire your honesty and plain outspokenness, but that does not extend to my father, nor many members of the Goetia Family.” The Prince slid a little closer, and for a moment, thought about grabbing the imp boy’s hands, but he decided against such a thing, for now. “I. . . It will take years, but I have a plan. A plan to get you back to your family.”

That got the younger boy’s attention, his head turning to look at the owl. “I warn you, this won’t be able to be enacted for years. Not for at least. . . eight years, as a generous estimation, though I assure you, if something better comes along, some way to free you sooner, I WILL act.”

The boy’s face fell a bit. “Eight years?” Blitzo bit his lip, wringing his hands, clearly not happy about the length of time. “What are you planning that I have to wait THAT long to see my family again?”

Stolas took a breath. “Simply put, we’re going to find someone to take your place. My father doesn't seem like he cares enough about imps to even tell you apart from any other of your kind. I promise, I’ll explain the specifics when bedtime comes. No one, not even Mister Butler nor my father will intrude on us, and I can explain in full.” Again, the owl boy slid a little closer to the imp boy, again resisting the urge to take his hands in his own. “I said it yesterday and will say so again. Heaven, I will say it every day at dawn and dusk if that’s what’s needed for you to believe me, but I am on your side, I swear!”

Blitzo scoffed and turned away. For a moment, Stolas heart sank at the rejection, but the smaller imp boy turned back, giving a look of vulnerability and pleading. “. . . You swear? If something comes along that lets me outta here sooner, you’ll do it?”

The prince quickly nodded his head. “Yes, you have my word!” He slide a little closer, his eyes locked onto the younger imp’s own currently vulnerable pupils. Stolas very much wanted to lean forward and give the other boy a hug, but decided not to push his luck. Inadvertently or not, he’d destroyed what little trust and affection that the younger boy had had for him. He had to show Blitzo, had to Show him that he could trust him again.

Such a difficult task ahead. But then again, as he’d said, if things were simple, things were amiss.

. . . Not that they weren’t ALREADY amiss as was. He’d accidently cost the imp boy his family and home. Fixing this, it wouldn’t be easy, not by ANY stretch of the imagination.

Nothing worth doing in life ever was, much it should’ve been, sadly.

Chapter Text

Stolas had a lot of thoughts about this place. The estate of King Paimon, his home.

It was typically a quiet place, the only really frantic and loud noises coming from Stolas himself if he was feeling rambunctious and rowdy, though he was usually silenced by a light reprimand from Mister Butler, reminding the young Goetia of his status and that 'Such behavior is unbecoming’.

Actually, now that Stolas had had a moment, there was ONE other possibility of excessive noise passing through the halls of this estate. When one of the servants had overstepped themselves, displeased his father. Then. . . Then those unfortunate souls would scream so loudly that their voices traveled through all the corners of this mansion.

“You see, my son.” King Paimon had smiled down at the shivering young owl boy, patting his head with same hand that held the aura that twisted the poor imp’s body into shapes that should NOT have been possible, at least not without killing the imp within a second, but no. The twisted shape still screamed and cried. “Think of this thing’s body like putty, stretching it and twisting it until his crimes against your family are THOROUGHLY avenged. And you need to be creative with it as well. After all, this one’s screams are the prelude. This one still needs to be hung in a place for ALL our servants to see, so that they know. To burn the property of the Goetia. . .  Whether accidental as this thing claims or intentional? It can only ever lead to ONE place.”

The King held out his aura encased hand. “Here, would you like a turn to avenge our drapes?”

Thankfully, his father had not carried through on the offer, taking his shocked whines as a refusal, so Stolas had not been made to participate in the torture of the imp that had accidentally set fire to the window drapes. Though Stolas HAD been made to sit there, observing every moment of the horrendous torture, told that someday, when he was older, such things would be expected of him, and to, ‘Don’t cover your eyes and stop sniffling! This is important and you need to know how to do this!’

. . . The image of that poor imp, twisted into something that barely could be identified as a creature anymore. Were it not for the shivers and broken sobs that emerged from it every now and again, most would have a called it a grotesque art piece.

So yes, while most have seen the quiet of the estate as mundane, dull, the quiet was better than the alternative. The screams of imp servants.

“UUUUUURRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!”

Normally, Blitzo’s groan would have been met with a simple glance over to the little imp boy, but with Prince Stolas’s recent train of thoughts, the groan was met with a flinch and the owl boy’s head whirling around to find the imp boy.

Blitzo was still as he was the last time the Stolas had glanced at him, lying on his back at the edge of Stolas’s bed, eyes clenched, gripping his horns and legs slightly kicking into the air. “How can someone with LITERALLY four eyes read so SLOWLY!?”

Stolas’s beak twitched with amusement as he turned back to the grimoire his father had gifted him, the less offensive gift he had received that day. “Having four eyes does not give me the ability to absorb the information I read faster, Blitzo.”

“So four eyes, but no bigger bird brain to go with them? Typical!” That got a chuckle from owl boy. “How much longer do you have to GO before you’re DONE!?”

“About thirty seconds longer than before, now that I’m having to devote some of my attention to listen and respond to you, Blitzo.” The little snark was met with another groan.

It had been four days since the meeting with King Paimon. Where Blitzo’s role as personal servant to Stolas had been made decree. The bitter taste of his friend’s predicament had not left his tongue, and if Stolas had his way, it never would. He needed to remember what he had done, even inadvertently, at least until Blitzo was walking away from this estate, another imp in his place, with the Prince’s father none the wiser.

In that time, Blitzo had slowly started adjusting, once again, a trait Stolas found commendable. Were the owl boy ripped away from his family and everything he had known-

. . .

Stolas took a moment, considering that, given the recent days and conversations that he’d had with his father, he wonders whether or not he would’ve instead been grateful.

A sad thought indeed. . .

Anyway, as time had passed, slowly, Blitzo was beginning to emerge out of his shell of devastation and become the young boy Stolas had known that brief afternoon, before his (Or the owl supposes, both their) father(s) had ruined it. Heaven, even from the first morning after, his irreverence had begun to return. His spirit was hurt, but not destroyed. Miracle of miracles!

“I can LITERALLY feel myself dying of BOREDOM over here!” Such a miracle that Stolas thought absolutely no ill towards Blitzo moaning and pouting about Stolas taking time to study his new grimoire a chapter a day. Though he was not ENTIRELY enthused with his duties, they were his duties none the less. To learn to open portals to the living world, to observe the stars, interpret the prophecies that danced among the sky. It was, by all accounts, a sacred mission, one that Stolas should feel honored to possess.

He would try, but. . . There was so much more on his mind these days.

“It is important that I take a little time every day to learn about my job, Blitzo.” The owl responded, though trying to read a little faster, if for no other reason that yes, he would MUCH prefer spending time with his friend then reading all day, In spite of the circumstances.

There was a little whine from the imp boy, the vaguest sounds that Blitzo was kicking the mattress. “You know, I’m not really all about Butler’s serving you crap, but could you at LEAST give me something to do?”

Again, a reminder about Mister Butler. It felt sometimes that Mister Butler and Stolas were on two side of a. . . What had Blitzo called the game? Tug of war? That sounded right, Tug of war.

He’s not sure WHY the name had been trouble to remember. It had been the incident that had given Stolas perspective on the elder imp’s conflict with the Prince.

It had been Blitzo’s idea. Stolas hadn’t thought much when the idea was pitched to him, but he quickly found himself swept up with the game. They’d rolled up one of Stolas’s blankets, both boys going to one side and attempting to pull the blanket and the other boy over a line that they’d drawn on the floor. Stolas had had to adjust his strategy, holding himself back immensely to give the imp boy a chance, but despite that, they’d been having fun!

“What in the name of LUCIFER are you DOING!?” Mister Butler had disagreed, silently slipping into the room to deliver lunch, only to alert them to his presence when he realized what the two children were doing.

Stolas had turned to address the elder imp, only for Blitzo to take advantage of the owl’s distraction and made one tug with all of his strength behind it. Stolas was lurched, crashing into the floor, though the blanket had cushioned his fall.

“I’m WINNING is what I’m doing!” Stolas couldn’t help but smile a little at the joy in Blitzo’s voice. It was literally the happiest that Stolas had seen him since being trapped her. A huge smile, one of his fist up in the air, celebrating his victory. Stolas was happy enough to allow it. His crash into the ground had been cushioned, so he wasn’t hurt, and seemed a small price to pay for the little imp boy’s cheer.

Unfortunately, Mister Butler disagreed. “Young Master!” The elder imp had surged forward, helping Stolas to his feet, glaring at the younger boy. “Young man, what in HELL would possess you to think ANY of this was acceptable!?”

“Mister Butler?” Stolas spoke up, wanting all of this cut off, but the elder imp was already walking over to Blitzo, glare meeting glare.

“Oh, what? I’m not allowed to have FUN either now!?”

“If sending your master crashing into the ground is your definition of FUN, then no! No you’re NOT!” The elder imp shot back, hands on his hips and glaring down at the younger boy. “Not to mention your lack of care for the young master’s SHEETS!”

“Oh, BOO hoo! I cannot BELIEVE someone would WRINKLE the BLANKETS! S’not like that happens every FREAKING night using them ANYWAY!” Blitzo shot back, sticking his tongue out at Mister Butler (Drawing nothing but a disgusted scoff from the elder imp.). “Seriously, if blankets weren’t made to get WRINKLED, ya wouldn’t BE in here every DAT straightening them every morning! DUH!!”

There was a long exhale from the elder imp, like he was TRYING not to escalate the argument. “Young man. . .” There was a strain to his voice, again, giving the impression that he was restraining himself. “However you treated blankets and sheets BEFORE you came here, you must adjust to a more delicate touch-“

“If these Goetia types have such CRAP class blankets and sheets that you gotta treat them so soft as to not damage them-“

“Do you NOT understand that ANY way you damage the property of the Goetic class will be TURNED on YOU, TENFOLD!?”

The exacerbated question got two distinct reactions from the two children. Blitzo raised his brow, clearly unimpressed or more likely not taking the question seriously.

But Stolas. . . Stolas understood the implications. Understood them ALL too well. . . A long buried (Though not very well frankly. Buried was a generous description, it was more like the young Prince kept tossing dirt on it and tried not to look at it, hoping that the wind of his thoughts wouldn’t blow the dirt off the pile and resurface the memory.), memory surfaced. An imp servant, one who’d accidentally set fire to the drapes of one of their windows.

One so thoroughly twisted by his father until Stolas suspected that killing him would’ve been an act of kindness, or mercy. . . It would’ve been far better than the agony the poor soul must’ve been in those long three days that he’d lingered as a warning to the rest of the staff about the care they should take with the property of the Goetic class.

Blitzo looked over at the owl with an expectant shrug, likely silently asking the Prince for back up against the elder imp. But, as much as Stolas hated to disappoint his friend, this was not an issue that he could’ve backed him up on. Mister Butler was indeed correct, they needed to be FAR more careful about games that potentially could see Blitzo-

It was a quick flash, Blitzo’s face superimposed atop the twisted imp as his neck was forced all the way-

A shudder ran through the owl. “. . . Mister Butler? Would you kindly place the sheets back in place?”

He caught a glance of disappointment and what Stolas could only describe as a look of betrayal, as if the Prince was supposed to back Blitzo on this issue. But Stolas couldn’t, it was his duty to keep the little imp safe until he could release the boy. If that meant disappointing him, that would be a wound Stolas would have to endure.

And it WAS a wound. . . He hated that look on Blitzo’s face.

“Of course, young master.” The elder imp made a bow, grabbing the sheets while he bent down. “Young man, why don’t you help me with this? This is something you should learn to do.”

“Pbbbt!” A mature response from the child, one that brought a smile back to Stolas’s beak. “I already KNOW how to make a bed. Besides, he asked YOU, not me. I ain’t doing your work FOR you, old man!”

“_{How charming.}” The elder imp muttered, sounding the faintest bit amused. “And you AREN’T doing my work for me, we’re doing it together. As servant to Prince Stolas, this task will one day belong to you. In fact, I believe you should start to help me with at least this when you and the young master rise from bed in the morning.”

At this point, said owl found his voice. “That isn’t necessary, Sir Butler.”

The elder imp turned with a raise of his brow. “With all due respect, my Prince, I must disagree.” The man made another little bow, turning fully to Stolas. “Forgive my protests, but as first of your servant staff-“

Again, the words drew a little growl, cutting off the imp’s words. Like the morning two days ago, Mister Butler seemed not to know how to respond to the normally passive owl boy’s sudden show of assertion. Not that Stolas could blame him. In truth, Stolas wasn’t really sure what to do with it. He’d never been one to throw his weight and authority around.

Regardless, it was something he was clearly going to have to get used to. Mister Butler and he were trying to pull young Blitzo in two different directions. Mister Butler seemed to be trying to mold Blitzo into him, an ideal servant, one whose life was devoted to serving the Goetic class in any way they pleased. But Stolas? Stolas above all was dedicated to keeping as much of the Blitzo he had seen from the circus intact. The fiery independence, the confidence, the humor. He did not think he could FULLY protect all of those, but he wanted as MUCH of those intact for that glorious day years from now when Stolas could send him on his way, free.

He didn’t like taking this tone, this harsh approach with the elder imp that had never been anything but helpful and a committed servant throughout his childhood. It made him feel bad, ungrateful for the things Sir Butler had done for him. But this was for Blitzo’s sake. He understood that the older man was probably just looking out for the younger imp, and deep down, Stolas understood that they had to somewhat temper the attitude that Blitzo threw around without discretion, but encouraging the boy to see himself as nothing but a servant? He had to get on top of this. When he had some time, perhaps he might better think of a less aggressive way to deal with Mister Butler, but for now, he needed to be stern with this, get it through the elder imp’s head.

“I SAID that him helping you with fixing my bed isn’t necessary, Sir Butler!” He growled out, trying desperately to keep his fierce look steady, keep his arms or legs from shaking, lest he show how much of a façade this truly was. “I’LL decide what he needs to learn for the purpose of his duties, NOT you!”

Again, there was a deep bow and look of confused nervousness, though to the man’s credit, he covered it quickly. “. . . You’re right, I overstepped myself. My apologies, my Prince.” Mister Butler replied, voice impressively steady, no sign of his nervousness. “I suppose I shall merely be content that his own bed seems to have been adequately made these last two mornings.”

Hmm, yes, Blitzo’s bed. The one that had been placed in Stolas’s washroom, the one with his tub and vanity. A bedroom in his WASHROOM! The only saving graces were that Stolas’s toilet was a separate room and that the curtain around Stolas’s tub would give the imp SOME measure of privacy. Not much. In fact, the MOMENT that Stolas inherited this estate, he would give Blitzo a private room. . . For however long that was before he could be released. For now, Blitzo would have to be content (As much as Stolas HATED the idea.) with the simple bed and dresser he had been given.

Not that the bed had been put to much use.

Stolas had been secretly allowing the imp boy to sleep in his own bed, waking up early to sneak the boy back to his own bed about ten minutes before Mister Butler to rouse them (Or Blitzo in this case, as Stolas rarely did anything but pretend to be asleep after waking up to carry Blitzo back to his supposed bed.). He wasn’t sure whether Mister Butler would ‘tattle’ on them or if there would indeed even BE consequences were it discovered Blitzo slept in Stolas’s bed with him, but until he knew for sure, he preferred to keep such things under wraps.

After all, he still didn’t know what this ‘sex’ thing that his father had forbidden him to do with Blitzo was, so until he knew for sure that Blitzo sleeping in bed with him didn’t constitute ‘sex’, he would be extra cautious.

So, yeah, hence why Blitzo’s bed had been relatively well made these last two mornings. Because Blitzo had hardly spent more than twenty minutes in it. But Stolas would NOT be telling him that.

“HELLO!” The snapping of fingers RIGHT in front of his eyes brought Stolas out of the past and into the present. “Hell to the LITERAL four eyes!”

Stolas shook the fog of the memories of two days ago, meeting Blitzo’s light glare. “Yes, yes, you have my attention.”

“You sure? Cause it looks like your big fancy whatever you call it didn’t even have that? Your eyes kinda stopped moving. . . Difficult to tell as it is. I don’t get how some demons could see without pupils.”

“Technically speaking, demons like me DO in fact HAVE pupils, but most of the time, they’re so small as to be invisible to the naked eye, though some have pupils that grow to be visible when in an emotional sta-“

Stolas squawked in surprise when the imp flicked him in between his lower eyes. It wasn’t hard and it didn’t hurt, just surprised him. “Man, you are just BEGGING me ta nickname you four eyes. Nerd.” The words sounded harsh, but there was a chuckle that made Stolas hope that they were made in jest and not maliciousness. “So, like I said, looked like you finished up with your fancy book?”

Stolas looked down at his grimoire, wincing a little as he noted the page number. “Just two pages more, Blitzo.”

“UURRRGGGHHHH!” Blitzo made a loud dramatic groan, falling back to lie on the floor. “You gotta be KIDDING me!”

Stolas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It shouldn’t take me more than three minutes, Blitzo.”

“You’ve already been reading that for HOURS!”

Stolas glanced at his clock, smirking a little when he saw the time. “It hasn’t even been thirty minutes, Blitzo.”

“Well how can I tell when you STILL haven’t taught me how to read your STUPID clock yet!?”

Stolas began chuckling as he watched the boy hop up, looking around the room. “Right, I gotta do SOMETHING while you read your STUPID book or I’m gonna lose my FREAKING mind!” His head turned from side to side, before spotting something, turning his back to the Prince. “Now there’s an idea. If you got gasoline around here, I can start soaking your window drapes and-“

“WHAT!?” Stolas’s eyes widened, shooting up and running over to the boy, throwing his arms around the boy, pulling the opposite facing boy back against Stolas. “You want to set my DRAPES on fire!?”

“What? No, that’d just be stupid.” Blitzo scoffed, trying to wiggle away from the Prince, which Stolas would not allow, not until he explained himself. “I’m just gonna drench them in the gasoline. Dunk them in and then put them back up.”

“WHY!?” Stolas was not only becoming further and further distressed trying to discern his friend’s motives, but the image of Blitzo dipping his drapes into gasoline only for them to burst into flame. . .

The image of the imp servant that had accidentally(Allegedly) set a pair of drapes on fire being lifted into the air by King Paimon’s magic floated through Stolas’s head, as did the ways his limbs had snapped completely backwards-

Stolas shook his head of the memory, continuing to hold the young imp boy close. “PLEASE, run me through your thought process!? If you don’t seek to set my drapes ablaze, WHY are you suggesting that you dip them in GASOLINE!?”

Blitzo struggled a little more, groaning when he seemed to realize that he wasn’t getting out of Stolas’s grip. He turned to the owl, looking annoyed. “If I walk you through it, you’ll let me go?”

“So long as you don’t attempt to carry through your thoughts.” Stolas released his hold of Blitzo, but kept all four of his eyes were watching Blitzo like a hawk (Like his great uncle Balam), looking for ANY sign that his friend was going to move to carry out his INSANE desire.

“Okay, so you know how like, some people will go up to hell wasps and cover their nests with cups of gasoline?” Stolas made a nod though truthfully had never seen such a thing. “It kills them, like instantly! So my pap- . . . CASH, decided to put the same kinda logic to keep flies out of our tents!”

Stolas tilted his head, still waiting for the connecting piece that would make ANY of this make sense. “So, since like, coming inta contact with the gas seems to kill insects like wasp instantly, Cash started having us dip our tent fabrics into gasoline. The smell keeps most’ve the bugs away, and the ones that DO land on our tents, the smell kills em, INSTATNLY.”

. . .

Stolas. . . Stolas felt like he was trying to decipher the ramblings of a MAD man. Every word that compounded onto itself felt like it was breaking Stolas’s mind further. He couldn’t. . . He couldn’t even BEGIN to dissect all of the ways that Blitzo’s explanation were wrong. He tried to formulate a way to explain it, but it felt like EVERY time he’d found a good starting point, another came along that seemed far more urgent to address.

“Blitzo?”

“Yeah, bird boy?” The imp tilted his head.

“With the greatest possible respect and no offense to you.” Stolas hesitated before saying the only thing that he could conclude. “Your father’s a FUCKING idiot.”

Blitzo raised his brow at the cursing, but otherwise nodded. “I mean, yeah. Ditto.” Stolas almost looked at the doorway, always worried when his friend insulted the King Paimon. “But I mean, even a broken clock is right twice a day right?”

While Stolas nestled his face into his hands, his friend turned to glare at the roman numeral marked clock. “I mean, besides THAT freaking thing! That thing will FOREVER just be BULL CRAP!!”

It seemed to have been what Stolas had need. Stolas found himself laughing and laughing hard. He looked up, giggling into his hands, finding Blitzo looking again at his laughter with surprise and delighted pride, something that always confused Stolas. The imp was always so consistently funny, so why was Blitzo still seemingly consistently confused when Stolas laughed at his jokes? “You know what?” Stolas walked away from the boy for a moment, putting his grimoire back on the book shelf. “Now seems as good a time as any to teach you how to read my clock.” Stolas pulled the clock off the wall, sitting down on the pillows on the floor. Blitzo sat next to him, looking at the clock with such contempt. “Do you see this symbol? The one that looks like a capital i?”

Blitzo nodded to Stolas, and the lesson began. Yes, Stolas hadn’t finished the chapter that he’d wanted to, but there was only a little left.

He had time aplenty more to do so.

Fizzarolli had a lot of thoughts about this place. The circus of Cash Buckzo, his home.

It was typically a pretty loud place, the only really quiet moments being in the dead of night, and even then there was still hustle and bustle, the noise never really stopping ever. And if it did. . . Something was wrong. Something was VERY wrong.

Fizzarolli, in all his nine years of life, had NEVER heard the circus as quiet as it was these days. At least not during the day.

It was like the happiness had been cut from the heart of the circus. Ever since. . . Even since Cash had given away his flesh and blood. . . As much as Fizzarolli was the star of the show, he’d been made aware that Blitzo was in fact, the heart of this place, the organ pumping the enthusiasm through the blood of this place.

It was odd. Fizzarolli loved his friend, loved him dearly, like a brother (Which when Cash sometimes told him that he wishes Fizz was his son, it made it SO much easier to imagine that as a possibility. . . Even if Blitzo looked upset whenever he heard Cash say that to Fizz. . . What was wrong with him that Blitzo would be upset at the idea that they could be brothers?), but others, the other clowns, jugglers, knife throwers? They all acted as if the older boy was a blight, an annoyance. And they had no scruples about letting Blitzo know so.

And yet, EVERYONE missed him. Everyone walked slower, less upbeat. Some quietly leaned against the fabric of the tents (Not even complaining about the ever present smell of gasoline.), muttering about how quiet this place was now. Some found quiet places to sit down and cry where they thought no one could see them, not that anyone would call them out.

The biggest and most surprising reaction had been without a DOUBT Eenie, Meenie, and Minee (Though oddly, Mo was nowhere to be seen. Strange.) all tackling and WHALING on Cash, screaming that he was a monster and they were gonna KILL him!

Obviously, they’d failed, as their size made them easy for Cash to grab and toss away, not to mention several of the clowns held them back after, though their glares at Cash when he threatened to fire them after made it VERY obvious that their preventive measures had NOTHING to do with loyalty. After all, the three siblings were still around, regardless of Cash’s word. Apparently, though everyone had prevented the quadruplets (Even if, again, Mo was nowhere to be seen.) from beating Cash, NO ONE was taking Cash’s decree that they were fired seriously.

Yeah, there was no move to remove Cash from leadership, but it was clear that selling off Blitzo like he had, he’d thrown away MUCH of the respect and authority that he had once commanded. Hell, Cash’s command that Fizzarolli and Barbie were not to be fed due to them not going out to perform was either secretly ignored or more boldly, others (Like Egg and Abby) just BLATANTLY gave the two children food after ENSURING that Cash was looking RIGHT at them.

Cash’s grip on this place had once been iron clad. Now it seemed like the man had dipped his hands with butter, and it was slipping away from him.

. . . Hmm. Butter. . .

Fizzarolli was hungry.                              

To be fair, he hadn’t been eating very well. His depression over his best friend felt like it was blocking his throat, made him feel like anything that he swallowed was just going to come back up again. Granted, Fizzarolli hadn’t hurled yet, but he always felt like he would when he ate. Still, he couldn’t skip eating. He just KNEW that wouldn’t do. He stood, walking towards the flaps of his tent.

Only he never reached them, as his Mr. Buckzo came RUSHING in, his eyes finding him immediately. “Oh good! You’re actually up, not moping in bed. FINALLY something going right today!” The man shot past Fizzarolli, finding his clown suit thrown at him as he turned. “Get dressed, NOW! You’re on in an hour!”

Fizzarolli tossed his clown uniform to the side, leveling a little glare at the older imp. “I’m NOT ready to-“

“Oh I KNOW you aren’t ready, particularly when you’re standing there like a slack jaw MORON!” Cash glared at the younger boy for a moment before turning to frantically grabbing things from Fizzarolli’s dresser. “Fucking I am no MOOD for yer mopey bullshit right now! Now, fucking get in gear and start getting dressed! You’re going on stage today!”

Fizzarolli began to growl a little. “Aunt Tilla said-“

“I DON’T CARE!” Mr. Buckzo whirled around, looking furious, roughly shoving the clown nose onto Fizz’s face, giving no care how much it hurt to place it on so roughly, ignoring the cries of distress from the younger imp. “Truly and honestly, hand to MAMMON, I do not give a single FUCK what that fucking BITCH told you or me! You’re going on stage and I don’t want to hear another word ABOUT IT!!”

The man dragged the younger boy over to his clown uniform, shoving it into his hands. “Look, someone VERY important is bringing his family to the circus today. Someone who YOU, will be giving the performance of yer life for!” Mr. Buckzo poked Fizz’s chest hard. “And I’m not being overly dramatic or figurative! I mean, the performance of yer LIFE, cause if this guy isn’t impressed, so help me Fizz! So help me. . .”

The older imp gripped the collar of Fizz’s collar, pulling the boy brow to brow. “I’ve been REAL fucking tolerant of your bullshit this week, letting you have yer bitchfest over Blitzo being gone, haven’t thrown your ass ta the side of the ROAD when you ain’t even been performing these last four days. But that shit ENDS, NOW!!” Fizz was shoved away an apple tossed into his lap. “Eat, dress and MOVE your ass, or I’m gonna come back in here and do all that FOR you, and I ain’t gonna be as gentle as I just was. Don’t test me!”

Fizz stared up at Mr. Buckzo, a mixture of anger and fear, his lip quivering. He’d once thought Mr. Buckzo was amazing. Once upon a time, he’d WANTED Mr. Buckzo approval, it sending his heart soaring whenever the older imp told him that wished that Fizzarolli was his son (Even if again, Blitzo never seemed thrilled with that. . . Why?). Now, as he looked up at the elder imp, he wondered why that idea had ever held any sort of appeal.

“Fucking baby!” Mr. Buckzo scoffed, walking back to the tent flap, one last glare at the child. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, and I swear to Mammon, you’d BETTER be dressed and ready for warm ups, Fiz.” He made to walk through the flap.

Only to bump into a glaring Aunt Tilla.

Aunt Tilla was one of those kinds of people. She was like everyone’s mommy. Sweet and gentle, always willing to comfort you, ready with a sweet word.

But you did NOT want her mad at you. You did NOT want her glaring at you like she was at Mr. Buckzo.

Mr. Buckzo backed up slightly, his eyes widen and his hands instinctively raised. “Til. . .” The woman walked into the tent, approaching him, her fierce glare locked square on him. “How long ya been standing there?”

“Only the last ten seconds of that conversation.” She said in a strangely calm voice, though even without witnessing the glare on her face, you could sense the rage underneath. “A mercy for you, as I imagine if I’d heard the rest of it, I’d be FAR angrier with you then I already am.”

Her eyes wandering over to Fizzarolli’s shaking self, seated on the ground. For a brief moment, the anger faded and she made a little gentle smile, a little wave towards him, before she turned back to her husband, the anger reemerging, far fiercer than before. “As is, Fizzarolli being on the floor like that, shaking and looking in tears already tempts me to SHANK you!”

Mr. Buckzo scoffed, crossing his arms (Though Fizz could see tension, making it VERY clear the gesture wasn’t casual.), sneering at his wife. “With how fucking weak you’ve gotten in the last year, we BOTH know that sorta thing would hurt YOU far more than it would me.”

Astonishingly, a knife came sliding out of Aunt Tilla’s sleeve, landing in her hand, her husband freezing up and his arms uncrossing as he watched her fiddle with the knife in her hands, her glare fiercening and locked onto him. “. . . Don’t make me ponder whether certain pains are worth enduring!” She ground out.

There was a moment of silence, Mr. Buckzo looking like he was about to bolt, Aunt Tilla looking like she was about to lunge, and Fizzarolli sitting on the floor, not knowing what to do. He HATED this hate, witnessing this. He HATED to watch fights, hated seeing people not get along. As much as he HATED Mr. Buckzo right now, he didn’t want to see ANYONE hurt.

“Luckily for me, but not for you, I don’t need to lay my hand on you.” Tilla glared lessened, but didn’t disappear, the knife in her hand twirling. “You’re already on thin ice as is, given how annoyed Crimson looked when he got here.”

Somehow, Mr. Buckzo’s body tensed up more. “He’s already here!?” He hissed in panic.

“Indeed. He sounded a touch offended that you weren’t there to greet him and his family.” Tilla tilted her head a little, a smirk emerging on her face as the horror on Mr. Buckzo’s face grew. “I covered for you though. I told him that if you weren’t there to greet him, his wife and his son, it was SURELY because you were off seeing to more important things.”

“YOU DID FUCKING NOT?!” Her husband shoved her aside, running out of the tent. “_{FUCKING BITCH!}” Was the last distant thing Fizzarolli heard from him.

After a moment of smugly smirking at her fleeing husband, her eyes found Fizzarolli, her smile morphing into a far more gentle expression. “Good morning, dearie.” Aunt Tilla sat down on the floor, taking the apple in his lap and using the knife she’d pulled to start cutting off slices. “Sleep well?”

Fizzarolli sat up, crossing his legs. “Alright?” He shrugged, not really not knowing what to say after what he witnessed. He settled for asking other questions. “Someone’s here?”

“Indeed.” She nodded, handing him the first slice of apple, just staring at him, waiting for him to eat. Sensing that this conversation wasn’t continuing until he ate, he hesitantly placed the slice in his mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing. He felt the hell moths fluttering in chest, making it a little difficult to keep it down, but like all other times, it went down alright. Satisfied, Aunt Tilla began cutting another slice off the apple. “The man we talked about? The one who that shark demon works for. He’s come to see our circus.”

Right, that man. The one Aunt Tilla had been talking to in secret. The one that might hurt Mr. Buckzo. . . He. . . Still didn’t want the man hurt. He couldn’t explain why. He should want the man to hurt for what he’d done to Blitzo. But. . . As Fizzarolli imagined Mr. Buckzo, lying on the floor in pain, something in his mind screamed out, some long buried image. A pair of imps-

He shook his head violently, not wanting to dive further into that though. No blood. No blood. . . No blood!

“Crimson? The man that shark works for? He’s a. . . How do I put this?” Aunt Tilla put her finger to her lips, handing Fiz another apple slice. “He’s a. . . An insurance man, I suppose you can say. In exchange for a monthly sum, a cut of our profits, he protects us. No one will mess with us, try to hurt us, because if they do, it would make Crimson angry. And down here in Greed, Crimson is NOT a man you want angry with you.”

Fizzarolli nibbled on the apple slice slowly. “Then. . . Aunt Tilla? Why are you trying to make Mister Crimson mad at Mr. Buckzo? Telling him that-“

“Hush sweetie, finish your slice.” She cooed gently, placing her finger on his lip and gently pushing the slice in his hand closer to his mouth. “Crimson is a fickle man, but it takes FAR more than a simple ringmaster not greeting him and his family upon arrival to make him angry. Hell, he’s very likely to be happy with Cash being so flustered. Amused. ‘Seems my reputation praceeds me.’ Heh.” She snorted at the voice impression and a funny accent, as did Fiz a little.

“Anyway, I just wanted him gone ta chat with you a little bit. . . And I admit, I have a. . . A big ask for you.” Aunt Tilla’s smile slid from her face, placing another slice of apple in his hand, cradling it in both of hers. “I know I said a few days ago that you didn’t have to do any shows until you were ready but. . . Do you think that you can be strong for me and be a part of the show today?”

Fizzarolli’s heart sank and his stomach did it’s best to reject the food he had tentatively ate. “Auntie. . . You said I didn’t have to.”

“And you don’t. If you say no, I’ll respect it. But. . . Can I make a case to you, please sweetie?” Fiz cringed a little at the desperation in Aunt Tilla’s face. He felt a little trapped honestly. He was so grateful to her and (Once upon a time) Mr. Buckzo for taking him into the circus like they had, when he had no one else. He’d NEVER been able to turn down requests from them (Besides him refusing to go out on stage in the wake of Blitzo being sold off, but that was different!), feeling indebted to them, that he OWED them.

Reluctantly, he nodded. He still. . . He loved Aunt Tilla. “Thank you, sweetheart, and remember, you’re allowed to say no.” Aunt Tilla sliced another bit of apple, handing it to Fiz. “You see. . . I’m planning on making a case to Crimson for some help, regarding the whole. . . Blitzo situation.”

He nodded, briefly considering confessing that he and Barbie had accidentally heard her speaking to that shark demon about that. He’d STILL been really unable to make sense of what specifically what Aunt Tilla wanted from this Crimson. All he’d really be able to work out was that he REALLY didn’t like what he’d heard. It sounded like all of this was going to get Mr. Buckzo hurt, which again, as much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want ANYONE hurt.

“Crimson is a man of some reach, authority and resources. Resources that a simple circus like us could never wield.” Aunt Tilla gently pushed his hands, encouraging him to eat the apple slice in his hands. She only began to speak again when he began nibbling on the food. “And not just in the Ring of Greed. He has tendrils of influence slithering along outside, business expanding and reaching out. A man like that. . . He could possibly find out which noble Blitzo was sold off to.”

Fiz froze mid chew, looking up at his aunt with wide eyes. “Really!?”

Aunt Tilla shook her head with a weak smile. “It’s not a certainty, and there’s still a question of if he would even be willing to help even if he DOES have the resources for something like that. But if it’s for my son, I have to pull at that thread till the end.” She placed the apple and knife to the side, shifting a little closer to the imp child. “I want to make an impression on the man. I want to show him our show at our best, show him that how entertaining we can be, what a DRAW we can be. After all, the more draw we have, the more others will come to us, be willing to part with their hard earned cash, meaning that we could potentially. . . Pay him more for a better insurance policy. I want him to see us as valuable, valuable enough that we would be worth such a favor investment.”

She brought her hands up to her shoulders, pulling him into a light hug. “To have a chance, we HAVE to present ourselves at our best. And I’m afraid, you are a LARGE factor in that. Our main draw, our best performer. _{Just don’t tell Blitzo or Barbie I said that, okay? I don’t want them thinking I’m lying when I tell them both that.}” The last part she whispered in his ear, and he nodded. “If we want to show him our worth, I think it would GREATLY benefit us if you would perform today, dearie.”

Fizzarolli chewed on his lip (Well, specifically, he chewed on the apple slice still in his mouth, swallowed it and THEN chewed on his lip.), considering the logic. He could feel his resolve slipping. . . No, that wasn’t right. His unwillingness to perform had been a lack of just that. This depression at Blitzo’s absence had drained his willingness to perform. To do a show that didn’t at least START with his best friend, it would’ve solidified this situation in his head. It would have cemented the fact that Blitzo was gone and never returning. He would’ve had to learn how to do shows on his own, he would’ve had to learn how to live a life without Blitzo there. And he DIDN’T want that. He NEVER wanted to become used to a life without his bestest friend, the boy that was practically his brother.

Maybe. . . Maybe ii wouldn’t hurt as much, seem like such a finality, if he chose to view it as Aunt Tilla seemed to. A tight rope walk across a thin line, Blitzo at the end of it. Home safe and sound, never to leave again, even if Fizzarolli had to tie their hands to each other?

. . .

Then again, his friend would likely whine and moan about such extreme measures. It brought a little smile to his face, the thought of the older wiggling his wrist trying to get free.

“So, what do you want to do, Fizzarolli?” Aunt Tilla asked, holding him close. “I’m not Cash, so if your answer is no, I’ll accept that and figure something out. . . If need be. . . I haven’t thrown knives in a while, but perhaps I can-“

He’d been teetering on the edge of doing this, suppressing his depression, pushing through to perform. But the fact that Aunt Tilla was considering going on herself forced the issue. The doctors had been urging her to not strain herself, keep physical activity to a BARE minimum.  So, yes, he’d been leaning towards agreeing to perform already, but the fact that saying no meant that his beloved Aunt Tilla would go on in his place to perform, risking her health? And that wasn’t even getting into if her acrobatics and knife throwing were rusty. “I can go on!’ He blurted out, grabbing hold of her hands.

She looked down at him pleasantly surprised. “You will?” She smiled at him and leaned down, pressing her lips to his brow. “You sure, sweetheart? I don’t want to push you if you’re not feeling up to it.”

WAS he feeling up to it? Not completely, but what was the alternative? He couldn’t allow his beloved Auntie to strain herself, not after all she’d done for him, not when she under enough stress as is. “I, um. . .” He stumbled with his words, taking a little breath. “I might need help with the opening. I usually. . . I usually have back up starting up, Blitzo would-“

“Barbie can help you out if need be.” Aunt Tilla quickly shushed his worries with a little smile. “She’s a TOUCH less acrobatic then her brother, so you’ll have to watch out for her a little more than you would Blitzo. But so long as you give her cues, she’ll be able to follow you. You think you can handle that?”

Fizzarolli nodded, making to stand up. Him opening up his act with Barbie had the potential to be awkward. He’d played and practiced acrobats with Barbie, though not as extensively as her brother. They had been able to understand each other without words, subtle gestures if back up or support was needed. Doing a show like this with Barbie? It would be a trial by hellfire. But again, he nodded, the alternatives that came with refusal were unacceptable.

Aunt Tilla smiled gently at him, standing to walk over to his clown outfit, picking it up and smoothing out the fabric. “Here, I’ll cut the rest of the apple, and then we’ll get you suited up and ready, kay?”

Fiz nodded and made a smile of his own. Aunt Tilla’s smile. Such a radiant thing on its own. So warm, almost feeling like it carried the heat of a flame. It was certainly as bright as one. It gave him courage, encouragement. It felt like he could get through this tumultuous time just by the strength it radiated.

Four days. Four days he’d had to process the disappearance of his best friend. . . Though Process was a generous assessment of what he’d done with these circumstances. Wallow, was the better word he thinks. Wallowed in his misery, doing the bare minimum.

But no more. Aunt Tilla needed him. BLITZO needed him. He needed to perform, needed to show off the wonder of this circus he lived in. Show to this Crimson that the circus was worthy of his investment (Though he wasn’t quite sure why an insurance man would hold so much influence.). Perhaps this show was the first step on the road to do shows with Blitzo again? To have him back, to hold him close and never let go against (Or at least until the older boy started squirming and wrestling to get out of his hold. Heh, Blitzo. . .). He had a duty, to his friend and the woman he called Auntie.

He had no more time to wallow. He had to prepare. Like Mr. Buckzo had said (His current dislike to the man aside.), the show of his life. The show for Blitzo’s life as well. He had no more time for grief.

Chapter Text

Blitzo tried to remain focused, eyes ahead, staying still, trying to absorb the information that was bombarding him right now. He knew it was important and being able to read this MAMMON damned clock would make life in this room somewhat tolerable.

Somewhat being the key word. This would NEVER be his home, no matter how much he was trapped here.

“Alright, then we have the x. It represents the number ten.” The prince seated next to him was still babbling on happily, unaware of the mood Blitzo was in, the feeling of entrapment that Blitzo was feeling. Then again, despite the kid’s (Though he was a year older than Blitzo so. . . Nah, still the kid. He sure as freak acted like one.) status as a fancy Goetia, didn’t seem like he could read minds. Weak. If you were gonna be a big fancy blueblood, the LEAST you could do was come with some real big fancy show off power. Only thing this kid had going for him was he seemed to be one of the biggest NERD in all of Hell. And that couldn’t count as a fancy power. . . Could it? “You see this symbol? The one with an I right before the x? That symbol represents the number nine.”

“Okay?” Blitzo let out an unsure agreement. Again, this whole thing seemed needlessly complicated. WHY!? Why did freaking blue bloods have to get fancy with NUMBERS!? Like yeah, we get it, you’re better than everyone else! Taller, more powerful, smarter! So, just to prove the point, you gotta make this pointless system for NUMBERS!? Jerks! “Wouldn’t it. . . Wouldn’t it be VIV though? Cause five plus four?”

“It s the same principle as the symbol for five being represented by V and four being IV. Just the numbers nine right before ten, so I in front of the x.”

Blitzo let out a little whine as he tried to wrap his head around what was being taught to him. “. . . I hate you people, just so we’re clear.”

The owl boy’s smile dropped from his face, eyes widening and beak falling open. “I. . . I beg your pardon?”

“Like you should, not that I’d give it.” Blitzo scoffed, falling backwards the ground, grinding his wrists against his brow. “You Goetia’s did this on purpose, didn’t you? One of you made a prophecy that an imp boy would come to live with you one day, and you all conspired to make this needlessly complicated NUMBER system just to piss me off!”

Silence followed for a few seconds, before surprisingly, Stolas laughed, giggling to himself, hands covering his beak as Blitzo looked on at the older boy with wide eyed disbelief. “I. . . I believe you think too much of my kind’s pettiness, Blitzo. But the thought of it. . .” He giggled to himself a little more, his hoots only increasing as the imp’s glare at him grew. “I promise you, even if the Goetic class HAD foreseen the circumstances of your presence here, NONE would have devoted such time to crafting a numbers system for the sake of tormenting you.”

“Yeah, well, it don’t FEEL like that!” Blitzo growled out, again, this warm feeling spreading through him as he listened to Stolas laugh. This kid was so. . . At the circus, all of his jokes were met with silence or with a cough (Papa had SWORN that it was just a coincidence, even when Mama had twisted his arm behind his back, so Blitzo was inclined to believe that it was just his cold getting the best of him and not an attempt by Cash to undermine him.), but Stolas. . . Was this owl kid just REALLY easy to make or laugh or. . . Was this how Fiz felt when he consistently managed to get a laugh out of the crowd with EVERYTHING he did? . . . It was a nice feeling. “Seriously, I’ve done NOTHING to you people.”

Stolas stood, propping the clock back up the wall. Guess the lesson was over? Thank Mammon for that. “I promise, no Goetia would devote their time to develop a number system to torment you, Blitzo. Not even if they were aware of your burglary would they-“

Blitzo shot up, his glare intensifying. “HEY! I haven’t picked my nose in YEARS!!”

Stolas turned his head all the way around (Making the imp flinch as he felt a pain in his neck himself just LOOKING at that.), his brow raised in confusion. “. . . Nor was I accusing you of such. Burglary was what I said.”

“It’s always got be some fancy sounding word with you noble folks, isn’t it?” Blitzo huffed crossing his arms. “Don’t matter whether you call it Boogerly or whatever, doesn’t make picking your nose sound any better! I haven’t done that in like TWO years!”

Another snort left the Prince’s beak as he (Thankfully) turned his head back around, making some last adjustments to the clock. “Burglary was the word I used, Blitzo. Not Boogerly.” He shook his head, the imp hearing some laughter being suppressed. “I was saying that even if a Goetia was aware of your thievery from us-“

“Thievery?” Blitzo tensed up, eyes widening. “I. . . I haven’t stolen anything from you folks.”

Stolas turned back to Blitzo, crossing his arms and looking amused. “Really? So you’re telling me that if I asked, one of the staff would tell me that sack of my treasures that we ran around collecting was indeed retrieved after you tossed it from my balcony and everything was returned to it’s proper place?”

Oh shit! Blitzo. . . Blitzo didn’t know what to say, curling up and not looking at Stolas, his tail wrapping up around himself. The owl boy KNEW! Oh CRAP! He hadn’t really felt bad about it, was just something he’d been tasked to do. He had GENUINELY come to enjoy his time running around with the Prince, though still thought nothing of stealing all that stuff. It was to help mama. He shouldn’t feel bad about that. But now Stolas knew and he was in SO much trouble and-

He was jolted from this downward spiral when hands came down to grasp his shoulder, looking up to found that Stolas had approached him, kneeling down and looking at him. “. . . That was not a. . . Condemnation, nor intended as a guilt trip. I’m not angry.” The owl shook his head, and his body language was weird, like he was fighting an impulse to hug the imp. “And even if I were, I think that your circumstances. . . The fact that father stole you away from your life and family. . . No, even then, it wouldn’t be equivalent. If anything, whoever you threw that stuff to, it only partially makes up for what’s happened to you. By all rights, I think I owe you another sack.”

That last bit was said with a little chuckle, like it was meant as little joke, but Blitzo didn’t think it was funny. “My LIFE doesn’t have a FUCKING price tag!!”

The Prince’s eyes widened and he stumbled over his words. “N-Nor did I intend to imply it did! I was-“ He fell quiet, looking to the side for a moment, his hands grasping at the imp’s shoulders. “Listen, I promise, even if you’d been allowed to go home that day, I’m saying I NEVER would have made an issue of your pillaging. Nor do I consider your forced residence here a fair punishment, even were I actually angry about it.”

“. . . Why AREN’T you mad at me for it?” Blitzo asked after a moment, curious. His family, everything they had. They were better off than some residence of Greed, but like all demons of the Greed Ring, it was never enough. They weren’t nobles who could afford anything they wanted. When Blitzo and his family had something, they had to run it into the GROUND before even thinking of replacing it. Replacing things meant spending money, and that was tight as was, even with all they raked in from shows. He couldn’t IMAGINE how mad he would’ve been if the Prince had been running around his family’s circus, looting and pilfering.

Stolas shook his head and tightened his grip on the imp’s shoulder, though not unpleasantly so. “All that stuff was simply that. Stuff, things. Things can be replaced, easily.” Right, rich. Of COURSE a rich noble didn’t know the value of STUFF! “Besides. . . I was having fun.”

Blitzo tilted his head. “And that somehow makes me stealing from you. . . Okay?”

“I mean, not particularly. Not to most people. Heh, but then again. . . Maybe father was right about me? _{Maybe I’m just an idiot?}” The imp cringed at that. You father calling you an idiot? He knew that well. . . He knew it DAMN well. “I’ve not often had opportunity to play with children close to my age, not like you did. Not running free, both of us laughing. I knew you were up to something, but I could see it on your face, hear it in the way you laughed. You WERE enjoying yourself, genuinely. . . Right?”

Blitzo nodded hesitantly. Yeah, it’d started as a way to sneakily grab the owl boy’s stuff, but he’d gotten swept up in the enthusiasm. Found himself smiling and reveling in the game. It was like he was playing Fizzarolli or Barbie. Still. . .

“Other children my age, the ones I played with before? They were other nobles, always watching, always with other motives. Their smiles always seemed so sly, so calculated. Putting me at ease, all while taking note of the softest spots on my back, eagerly planning where their knife would slide. I assure you, I’m quite used to people exploiting me while playing with me. . .” Oh. . . Now Blitzo felt WORSE. “Regardless, you seemed the most. . . Honest in your deception. You told me PLAIN your hidden motivation, either through the obviousness of your ploy or the crudeness in your execution.”

Blitzo gulped. Execution!? Was he ACTUALLY in trouble here!?

“I don’t care for the treasures. I can get more of them, easily.” Stolas chuckled. “Besides. . . This estate doesn’t belong to me, not yet, so technically, you weren’t stealing from ME.” His red pupiless eyes seemed to look over at the door, even while he continued his giggles.

The imp shuffled in place, unsure what to say or do. Being caught like this, even if Stolas didn’t seem too miffed about it. . . "I’m sorry. . .” Blitzo wasn’t sure why he said it. Part of him. . . Part of him wasn’t. He’d done what he’d done to help his mother, to get the money needed for her medicine, and he could NEVER regret that, helping his precious Mama, but. . . He WAS sorry that Stolas had gotten mixed up with all this.

“I forgive you.” The Prince said gently, squeezing the imp’s shoulder in a comforting fashion. “And, as said, even if I did not, you find yourself paying for it disproportionately.”

“. . . And that last word mean?” The imp tilted his head.

“It means, no matter what you did, separating you from your family forever is unfair, and NOTHING you did or could have done justifies it!” Stolas growled a little, looking off to the side. For a moment, Blitzo was left to ponder this. He. . . He didn’t get it. He’da have THROTTLED anyone that stole from him or his family. Blitzo. . . Okay, maybe he’d done a LITTLE wrong by the other boy, even if, again, he did what he’d done for the sake of his mother. And he was. . . Forgiven? Just like that? “. . . I don’t get you.”

Stolas raised his brow, smiling after a moment. “Unfortunately, you have some time to work it out. My sincerest sympathies.” He let go of the imp’s shoulder, though not without a pat. He stood and offered his hand. “Come, enough of this grim topic. And I believe we’ve gotten side tracked. You wanted me to rush my studies so that we might play?”

Blitzo looked at the hand for a moment, considering. Play, right. Well, to be specific, he’d just wanted to do ANYTHING. Anything rather than sitting around, twiddling his thumbs while Stolas thumbed that book of his. Still, play had. . . Play had a good sound to it. He took the hand, allowing the owl boy to pull him to his feet. “Okay, let’s play!” He rubbed the back of his head. “I ah. . . I promise not to steal anything this time.”

Stolas let out a loud bark of laughter, his hands coming up to his beak as he giggled. “Yes, please. I’d like to keep our friendship with a minimum of frisking.”

Blitz’s eyes widen in delight. “What are your TALKING about!? Frisbee sounds like FUN!”

The owl gave him a strange look, a cross between trying not to laugh and actually considering his suggestion (Weird given the owl had been the one to suggest Frisbee in the first place. . . Or was he misunderstanding again. . . Papa did always say he was stupid.). After a moment, the owl nodded, a bright smile emerging on his beak. “As you say.”

The imp child tilted his head. “As I say what?”

The prince shook his head. “Let’s go play Frisbee.”

Blitzo clapped his hand, wrapping his hand around Stolas’s shoulder (Making the owl boy blush again. Really, did this kid not get hugs that often that he turned bright red from simple contact. . . Kinda sad now that he thought about it. . . And making a lot of sense given the stuff Blitzo had heard come out of King Paimon’s beak.). “FINALLY, an idea I can GET behind!” He shook the prince a little bit. “Come on, we’re losing daylight!”

The Prince took a moment to compose himself, smiling back. “Lead the way.”

The imp smirked triumphantly. “Gotcha!” The two children stood there a moment, until Blitzo was forced to admit something out loud. “. . . I don’t know how to get to your backyard from here.”

Well, so much for his confidence. Now he had to deal with the owl laughing at him AGAIN! Though, it was. . . Blitzo was used to mockery, at people laughing at him for all manner of reasons, NEVER for the reasons that HE wanted them to laugh. How did he want people to laugh at him? Well, NOT at him. WITH him, because of him, because of the jokes he told. That kind of laughter that he had craved for so long. . . Kinda seemed to be the kind that the owl boy offered him so often, every day. The boy that had ruined his life. . . He felt like he should laugh at that fact. How screwed up was life to put him in this kind of joke?”

Stolas shook his head, offering his hand. “Follow me, if you would?’

And so, Blitzo did. Weird crap. His life had gotten so weird lately. Sold off, held captive, a servant to a Goetia, one that gave him everything he had ever wanted at the circus. Admiration, laughter. . . What was he to make of that? And when he DID get out of here. . . Would there be others to give him the wealth of his desires as much as this boy did. Would his reunion with his family be worth the loss of all that. . . Most certainly, without question.

But would he miss all this. . . Maybe a little.

Fizzarolli tried to stay focused, eyes ahead, staying still, trying to absorb the information that was bombarding him right now. He knew it was important, being ready for this meeting that was about to transpire, knowing that it was the potential first step in bringing his friend back home.

Potential being the key word here. If this failed. . . This place. . . Much as he loved this place, the circus, the people here. So long as Blitzo wasn’t here, this place would ALWAYS feel less like home.

“You both stay polite, you HEAR!?” Cash was in Fizzarolli’s and Barbie’s face, the two children standing there. Fizzarolli's hand was being squeezed by Barbie’s own, all while the girl was glaring up at her own father. She wasn’t letting Blitzo go, what’d happened go, rightly so. Even still, of all the members of his family, Barbie seemed like the one that the Ringleader had been closest to. With what he’d done, seemed like whatever pleasant bond that father and daughter had once shared, selling off her twin brother had damaged it irreparably. There was no subtle warmth that existed anymore.

Not that Cash seemed to care about the relationship that his actions had ruined, too focused on lecturing the two children before him. “This guy is HUGE! His word. . . His word can make or BREAK places like ours! You know what that means!?” He leaned forward, his glare going back and forth between the two children. “It MEANS, that if he was the LEAST bit unsatisfied with you two’s performance in there, we’re DONE!”

“You clearly weren’t paying attention in there then.” The cool grumble cut through the tension, Barbie having spoken up, a glare steady and locked onto her father, hands on her hips. “Or did you MISS his kid crying out in delight and his wife also joining in the cheers at our show?”

“Gah, yeah, you’re right, Barb. You know what, why’d I even spend the last FIVE minutes talking bout Crimson and how important he is, when where I REALLY shoulda been focusing my lecturing, on his vapid brat and WORTHLESS wife!?” Cash smacked his head with a ‘doi’ sound (Though Fizzarolli had to suppress a chuckle when Cash flinched and rubbed his head for a second, like he had hit his own head too hard.). “Mammon’s SAKE! And here I was thinking that with Blitzo gone, I’da be dealing with LESS stupid! Ya know, I’ve been talking about picking up Blitzo’s SLACK, BUT THAT AIN’T SOMETHING YOU NEED TA PICK UP!!”

Barbie let out a growl, stepping forward. Cash seemed to tense up for a second before returning the growl, leaning down and getting RIGHT in his daughter’s face. “Yeah, you can just DROP your little hissy fit and step the FUCK back, little missy! Like me or hate me, I AM your damn RINGMASTER, and I’m not gonna-“

Whatever Cash was gonna was say was cut off Barbie smashed her brow into his nose. Fizzarolli cried out, trying to pull his friend away while her father stumbled back, holding his nose. “Barbie!?” Fizzarolli cried out, aghast at what she’d just done.

“Go, FUCK Yourself!” Barbie hissed, seething and GLARING at the man, the younger boy gasping at the bad words she’d just said (Wondering about the phrase at the same time. He’d heard it before, normally thrown back and forth between Aunt Tilla and Mr. Buckzo, but wasn’t quite sure what one did to ‘fuck’ their self.).

Mr. Buckzo only had a moment to glare at his daughter, bringing his hand away from his bleeding noes to open his mouth and fire back, but another voice cut through the tension. “DAMN! The balls on that one!”

Mr. Buckzo froze, whirling around, holding out his arms. “Ah, Mr. Malidlfrend! Hello there!” He reached back, grabbing the collars of the two children and dragged them around to stand in front of him, like he was using them as shields. “How long have you been standing there, sir?”

“Long enough ta see you get a bloody nose.” The new imp cackled. He was dressed fancy, a blue dress coat with small red lines running along it, the same red lines running along his pant. There was a fedora on his head, his red fingers sliding along the edge of it, smirking, showing off his gold tooth. His black slit pupils looked in between the two children. “You realize how sad it is that yer daughter’s got more balls then ya, right?”

Fizzarolli felt Mr. Buckzo flinch, heard him grinding his teeth. “S’just a little-“

“Seriously! Any kida mine done what she did, I’da already backhanded them.” The new man shook his head, chuckling, pulling out a cigar, lighting it. “Ya mind if I smoke?”

Seemed like he should’ve asked before lighting the thing, but Mr. Buckzo seemed not to object. “Please, help yerself. Just. . . Keep away from the tent fabrics.”

The other man, Crimson just scoffed. “Oh, would ya get yer panties outta twist. Such a small flame ain’t gonna do nothing.” He took a drag of the cigar, blowing smoke into the air. “Now, you’re being rude-“

“SORRY, SO SORRY!” Mr. Buckzo cried out, seemingly shrinking behind Barbie and Fizzarolli. . . Confirming that he REALLY was using them a shield. . . Jerk. “Listen, I was on-“

Crimson surged forward, roughly pushing the two children out of the way, grabbing Mr. Buckzo face, getting right up against his brow. “DON’T, FUCKING cut me off!!” He snarled, getting a little meep from the other imp. “You’re on thin ice, Cash! REAL thin! And trust me, you don’t want me to show you how deep the water is underneath, you hear me?!”

Fizzarolli was TERRIFIED, terrified enough that he didn’t even acknowledge Barbie helping him to his feet after having been shoved to the floor by Crimson, eyes too focused on watching this confrontation. He did end up gripping at her arm, feeling her own hands gripping his shoulders. There was a moment of silence as Crimson glared silently at the quivering Mr. Buckzo. After that, this scary imp took another drag from his cigar, blowing the smoke in Mr. Buckzo’s face, getting a coughing fit out of the ringmaster. “Now, as I was saying.” Crimson pulled back, the smile coming back to his face. “Rude, Cash. Ya’ve been VERY rude.”

Crimson pulled back, patting Mr. Buckzo’s shoulder, getting a flinch from the other man. “I came ALL this way to see you and you’re little circus. And I walk in here. . . And ya can’t even introduce me to yer star attractions? REALLY!?’ He let out a loud laugh, though Fizzarolli’s nervousness didn’t disappear. He didn’t trust the smile this terrifying man wore as he swirled around, holding out his arms and bent down to walk towards the two children. “Come here ya tykes! Come say hello!”

Barbie was the first to gather herself to gingerly step forward, hesitantly holding out her hand. The new man took it, shaking it firmly. “Ah, the up and coming ball’n chain, eh?” He leaned down, giving Barbie’s hand a kiss, much to her shock. She flinched and tried to pull away, but the man held her there. “Best be careful though little lady. Ain’t a lotta boys out there that’re as big pussies like yer sacka shit dad. You’ll be looking ata few backhands if ya don’t learn your place.”

And then, Crimson’s eyes shifted over to Fizzarolli, his smirk making the child flinch. “And then there’s the star of the show. Get over here, little man. Let’s shake like men.” He let go of Barbie’s hand, holding his own out to the child.

“You heard the man, Fizz!” Mr. Buckzo shuddered from behind, a glare on his face that promised bad things if the young imp didn’t listen. “Say hello to Malidlfrend! Er, MR. Malidlfrend! I said MR, ya hear!”

It took Fizzarolli a second to obey the command, hesitantly holding out his hand to other man. Would he kiss Fizz’s hand too? He hoped not. Barbie had looked uncomfortable with it, and she was by FAR bolder then he was. Thankfully, the man didn’t lean forward to kiss his hand. He only shook it (Albeit too roughly. His grip hurt.) Vigorously, a wide smile on his face. “Come on, little man. How’m I gonna know you’re happy to see me if you shake my hand like a little girl, eh? Bad enough you’re trembling like one” He let out a bark of laughter, thankfully letting go. “Seriously, Cash! Ya gotta be firm with that one. You don’t make sure yer kid’s got some balls before his drop, how’s he gonna make it through life?”

Mr. Buckzo fidgeting in place. “Ah, actually, that one ain’t-“

“Oh, yeah, speaking of.” Crimson snapped his fingers, cutting off Mr. Buckzo. “You aware ya got a sissy up on the tightrope, right?”

Mr. Buckzo tiled his head, looking around confused. “Ah, sorry, what?”

“Yeah, ya FUCKING should be.” The other imp sneered, taking a long drag of his cigar. “I spotted him up top, walking round the rope with a parasol and dressed up in a tutu. Wasn’t fooled though. The horns, man. Every time. Every time one of these types tries throwing on a skirt, walking around calling themselves a lady, the horns give it away, EVERY TIME! And thank Mammon for it! Some of these fucks go all out, REAL convincing makeup. But, end a the day, you CAN’T hide biology.”

Fizzarolli knew the one Crimson was talking about. “Um, Mr. Malidlfrend?” The older imp glanced down at Fizz, getting a flinch out of the child. “I. . . I know the one you’re talking about. They, they're not trying to be a girl, they just like dressing like one.”

The older imp scoffed. “Mammon’s BALLS! Genuinely don’t know if that makes it better or worse. Gah!” He shook his head. “Whatever, you wanna indulge these nuts, no sweat off my back. I got better things to worry about. For example. . .”

Crimson took a long drag of his smoke, his glare becoming far more terrifying (Fizz would’ve called it an impressive feat, but he himself was too scared of the glare to admit it, shuffling backwards to grip at Barbie’s hand.), colder. “A little birdie came squawking to my ear that you came into a bit of money recently.”

Mr. Buckzo fidgeted, his eyes widening and it took a few seconds for words to leave his mouth in spite of his lips moving. “. . . Who. . . Who told you that?”

“A little birdie. Pay attention, Cash.” Crimson let out a loud cackle, making all three of the other imps jump. “Really, I’m ALWAYS happy to hear clients a mine flourishing! Gives more opportunities for expansion, which hey, benefits us all! Bigger businesses means more money for ALL parties involved. The more money a place makes, the more the need for insurance grows.”

Mr. Buckzo began to speak, but was cut off, the other man walking up and wrapping his hand around the bigger imp’s shoulder. “But talk a business can wait till later. After all, my kid LOVED the show and is just DYING ta meet the star attractions.” Crimson patted Mr. Buckzo’s chest, lightly grazing it with the cigar in his hand, getting another flinch from him. “Times awasting, Cash. Come on, get your kids out there and introduce them to mine.”

Mr. Buckzo made a nod, but it honestly seemed pointless, as Crimson was already pushing the other imp towards the tent flap. “Co-Come on, kids!” He cried out, a forced smile on his face. “Fizz! Ya got VIPs to greet, get yer butt in gear!”

A squeeze of Barbie’s hand was all it took to do so, the girl gently leading him to the exit of the tent, him breathing out. Okay, he could do this. Performer, performer, performer. He was a performer, meant to make people happy. This man scared Fizzarolli, no question. But he had a kid, one apparently wanting to meet Barbie and him. He’d seen the child in the crowd sitting next to the man in question. The resemblance had been clear. They’d been sitting off in a separate space reserved for special guests (The last time it had been used, they’d had to make a banner indicating that it was Goetia seating only. He remembers because that had been the day Blitzo. . . Blitzo. . .). The scary man had been there, as was a pretty woman. She’d been holding a smaller version of Crimson.

Fizz. . . Fizz hoped that despite being the spitting image of his father, that this child was much nicer then this man. Mammon, he’d take the kid being just a LITTLE nicer than this man. Crimson Malidlfrend was one of the SCARIEST imps that he’d ever encountered (Truly impressive given that all things considered, Fizz had only been in his presence for TWO minutes.), so his son being ANY less scary already made him more tolerable.

The tent flaps parted as the four imps approached, Fizz looking up to find that tall shark demon there, holding the tent flaps open, giving a little nod to Crimson. “Alessio.” Crimson spoke, the words sounding almost like a thank you, the imp looking around, giving no mind to the nod the shark demon gave back. “Where’s Lucia and Moxxie?”

“Miss Wire offered to get Moxxie popcorn, so she led him and the missus off to the snack stalls.” The shark nodded his head off to a series of stalls. “She pointed out where she was going, so I can lead.”

“_{Kid can’t sit still for FIVE minutes, particularly after he was squealing about meeting these two.}” Crimson moaned out, pinching his eyes. Though he quickly waved his hand. “Lead the way.”

The group of four imps followed the shark in tense silence, Barbie and Fizzarolli squeezing each other’s hands often, taking comfort in the other’s presence.

It wasn’t a long walk, lasting less than two minutes. Fizz’s eyes quickly found Aunt Tilla, leaning down and speaking to a child, though he couldn’t make out the words. There was another woman, dressed in a nice dress that was similarly colored to the suits worn by Alessio and Crimson, white heeled shoes. She had long black hair with a red flower off the side of her brow. She was pretty.

His eyes found the young boy between her and Aunt Tilla. Like said, he bared a strong resemblance to his father, except. . . The boy’s smile. When Crimson smiled. . . There was something there. Something twisted and wrong, delight at the wrong things. His son smile was so. . . Pure. Innocent and genuine delight, not scary at all. It was looking like the apple couldn’t have fallen further from the tree. . . Funny how often that happened. He looked at Blitzo and Barbie and. . . And he couldn’t understand how besides how much they looked like Mr. Buckzo, that they could be SO different from him.

“Hey!” Fizz couldn’t help but flinch at the loud yell that Crimson let out, finally releasing Cash, flaring his arms. “Ya couldn’t wait five minutes?” He sounded amused, jovial and casual, but with everything that Fizz had seen of the man, there was still this. . . Tension in the voice. Like REAL anger and frustration below the surface, BEGGING for an excuse to show itself.

“Moxxie was hungry.” The pretty woman replied, smiling down at Moxxie as the boy flinched at his father’s voice, nestling against his mother’s leg, her not even glancing in her husband’s direction. “This last minute trip ya planned for us didn’t exactly give Moxxie a chance to eat much of his breakfast. So when Miss Wire here offered complimentary popcorn-“

“COMPL-“ Mr. Buckzo cried out, though a quick glare from Crimson cut him off, fidgeting in place.

“Of course complimentary, Cash.” Aunt Tilla replied, sounding more than a little smug. “You expect our special guests to pay for a little snack like this?” She reached out and patted the kid on the head, getting a little flinch from the boy, but his mother made a comforting little shush.

“ALWAYS nice to get a nice VIP treatment!’ Crimson let out a loud cackle, walking around to stand in front of the shivering ringmaster, the smile on his face dropping once his back was turned to his son and the two women. “_{You cut either me or her off AGAIN. . .}”

The threat went unfinished, and somehow, that made it worse. It left the three imps to imagine nightmares all on their own, Crimson turning with a smile and motioning to his son to approach. “Now get over here, you little scamp!” His arms wrapped around Barbie and Fizzarolli’s shoulders, roughly pushing them forward. “Stars a the show are here, like I promised!”

The little boy hesitated, looking up at his mother, finding her smiling down at him reassuringly, motioning him to walk forward. He did so, a hesitant smile on his face. Fizzarolli steeled himself. Okay, regardless of this kid’s father, he was a showman, an entertainer. It was his job to make people happy, and he’d already done so during the show, if the kid’s delighted cries were any indication. He could do this. He HAD to do this. It wouldn’t do to have an audience member nervous around him, even if his dad was the SCARIEST person he’d ever met. Fizz drew forth his signature smile, the confidence and charm. Make this kid happy, make his dad happy. For Blitzo. “Hey there!” He held out his hand for a shake at the shy looking boy.

The boy eyed the hand for a moment, hesitating to take it. Fizz thought he saw the boy glance at something behind Fizz, something that made him cringe and reach out the rest of the way for the shake quickly. “Hi. . . Hi.” The boy seemed to be stumbling, not knowing what to do or how to talk. Awkward kid.

Still, Fizz was a pro. He’d been doing this showbiz thing as long as he could remember. He could deal with awkward. “Well, hi hi to you too.” He put his brightest smile, hand on his hip and shaking gently with his other. “I like this double greeting thing you got going on, makes it REAL clear how happy happy you are to see me!”

The boy, he could see a smile twitch, the grip and shake the kid had going firming up a little. Fizz was ON it! “Really hope you enjoyed enjoyed the show. What am I saying, of course you did did!” Fizz released the kid’s hand, bumping his fist against his chest, a prideful smile plastered across his face. “Once me and Barbie are center stage, ain’t NO ONE without a smile smile in the house!”

Granted, she wasn’t his preferred partner, or even the ideal one. Though despite this being the first time Barbie and he had put on a show as partners, he thought that they’d done well. She couldn’t replace her brother, but for a first time substitute, not bad, Barb. Not bad in ANY way. "Speaking of, how rude of me. Let me introduce you to my costar.”

He swung around, reaching around to grasp for Barbie, who had a far more forced smile on her face. Never one for the spotlight (Or maybe it was Crimson’s looming presence?), but not unfriendly. She held out her hand over to the kid. “Barbie.” She said with an air of confidence. “Barbie Bu-. . . Barbie Wire.” There was a brief moment where she shot a glare back at her father before she adjusted her last name. Not that it got much more than a scoff from the man in question.

“Moxxie. Moxxie Malidlfrend.” The boy seemed much more at ease around Barbie then he was Fizzarolli, reaching out to shake her hand with a little more friendliness. “Me and mom really liked your show!”

“Thanks.” Barbie gave a firm shake, but didn’t let go of the hand, smiling down at the kid. “Wanna see the place?”

Moxxie made a happy little nod, but froze and looked back at his mother. The woman in question simply held up her finger in a signal of ‘One moment’, turning to walk towards her husband. “Does that work for you, Crimson?”

Crimson waved his hand, making to walk past her with just a little glance. “Yeah yeah. You watch the little tykes while Alessio takes Cash here on a little audit.” The shark demon stepped close, gripping the ringmaster’s shoulder, getting a squeak of distress from him. “Meanwhile, Miss Wire? Ya mind showing me round your little abode? Show me this place is up ta snuff?”

“Oh not at all, sir.” She made a little smile, holding up her arm, waiting for him to loop his arm with hers. “Would you mind terribly, Mr. Malidlfrend? Walking around as extensively as needed has become somewhat. . . Strenuous for me.”

“_{Ladies and their sensitive heels.}” Aunt Tilla didn’t seem to too bothered by the completely unsubtle mutter that Crimson had made. Still, he looped his arm with hers. “Yeah, yeah, just hang on and keep your hands proper, yeah.”

“I understand, sir. Believe me, I’m not looking to steal you away from Lucia over there.” Aunt Tilla replied with a little smirk.

“Oh, please, don’t hold back on mah account.” The woman scoffed, walking up to the three children, smiling gently and holding her hand out to Barbie. “You’d be doing me a favor, Miss Wire.”

Fizzarolli turned back to Aunt Tilla and Crimson, finding the man making a fierce glare at his wife, his eye twitching. A smile quickly forced its way when his eyes caught sight of the child watching him. Fizzarolli shuddered, even when the man smiled, he was frightening. “Heh. Such a kidder that one. Take notes, boy. Could REALLY punch your material up, yeah?”

“Ah happened to’ve found his show quite entertaining already. No touch up required. . . Admirable, Ah think, being so compose already at his age.” It. . . It felt like there was a shot against her husband in this Lucia’s words. It was like Aunt Tilla and Mr. Buckzo, only more subtle. She held out her hand to Fizzarolli, smiling gently. “A wonderful show, young man. Both of you, such exceptional talent already. You should be proud. Lucia Malidlfrend.”

Fizzarolli blushed and shook the offered hand, finding her touch much softer than her husband’s. “Fizzarolli. No last name.”

The woman’s smile brightened, and she let out a giggle. “Is that so? Ya know, before Ah married that one over there-“ She pointed over to Crimson. “That was my surname too. Think we’ve got some intersecting family tree roots down the line?”

“Huh?” Fizz didn’t know what to make of that.

Thankfully, as she often did, Aunt Tilla came to his aid. “Lucia? He means he doesn’t have a surname.”

“Oh.” Lucia shook her head, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “Sorry, my last name is Knolastname, spelled with a K and all one word. Silly me.”

Lucia took the hand of her son, who nestled close to her. “Well then, with my husband being guided by Tilla, can Ah rely on you both to show me and mah son your circus?”

Fizzarolli made a single thump with his fist against his chest. Yes, yes he could. He could do that. Show this woman and her kid the circus. This woman whose husband was a big deal. A husband that could MAYBE help bring Blitzo back home. For him, for his friend, he could do that, could do that three times over.

For Blitzo! He wouldn't be away from home for long, not if Fizzarolli had anything to say about it.

Chapter Text

Honestly, she didn’t know WHERE that guy got off!

And yeah, don’t get her wrong, Barbie got how the world worked. Yeah, there was ALWAYS someone above you, Hell, even the high and mighty Goetia SCUM (Which was a stronger opinion of them then she’d had before, but in her defense, her beloved twin brother had been sold off to some nameless prince, so she had SO much more contempt for these one hole noble freaks. Seriously! No wonder they were so filthy when the shat and pissed out the same hole!) were answerable to the Sins, who were answerable to Lucifer, and according ta what she’d heard, HE was answerable to Heaven. Everyone, EVERYONE had people they had to answer to, Barbie understood that.

But why oh WHY, did it seem like the people they were ALL answerable to tended to suck ASS!?

She means, okay, she had to answer to Mama, and Barbie had NOTHING but nice things to say about her (She hoped that the woman could get better one day so that she could keep her promise to show Barbie how to throw knives like Mama could’ve done less then two years ago.) so a few exceptions to the rule. . . ONE exception actually, now that she REALLY thought about it. Mama. . .

But EVERYBODY else!? SUCKED!! Sucked, sucked, SUCKED!

Well. . . Again, she might be blowing it out of proportion again, but that’s what this all felt like! It’s what Papa felt like, the self-centered JERK face! Selling off Blitzo. . . Near a week and the wound STILL felt fresh and raw.

“Umm, sorry?”

The meek little shy voice brought her out of her thoughts, her eyes going back down to the younger boy holding her hand.

Moxxie, Barbie had decided almost instantly, was precious and adorable and needed to be protected at all costs. The younger boy was so shy, meek and stiff. When she’d gone to lead him by the hand around the circus, giving him and his mother the tour, the boy had flinched hard, Even now, minutes later, the boy wasn’t ANY more comfortable with holding her hand then before, seemed to be more holding on outta fear of what she’d do if he pulled away.

To be fair, she HAD warned him not to wonder off. She expected everyone here would behave themselves around the VIPs, but there were other people wandering just on the border of the circus. The grownups, they could handles themselves with those vultures, sniffing round the borders of this place, but kids? There were reasons you had to be inside before the sun set, and even then, you kept away from the borders of the circus without supervision, even when the sun was up. The pedos were always crafty, and you had to keep an eye out. . . Even if Barbie wasn’t exactly sure what a pedo was or WHY they would want kids in the first place. She means, if someone was looking to eat someone, you’d think they’d stick to the bigger demons if they were looking for meat and-

“Sorry.” Again, the boy’s voice brought her outta the rabbit hole she’d been going down.

She smiled at him, being as warm as she could be. “For what? You ain’t done nothing.”

“I mean. . . Yes, I haven’t done nothing. I clearly did SOMETHING. Double negative.” She had NO idea about THAT phrase. What? The younger boy (By three years from the sound of it) glanced over, his eyes not quite meeting her’s. “You’re looking. . . Mad.”

Barbie tried her best to wipe any of the anger he was seeing off her face, though she’d never been real good at burying her anger (Blitzo’d been the same way, nor  Mama or Papa neither. Musta been a family thing or something.), but she didn’t wanna scare this kid. “Eh, I was just thinking about something else.” She squeezed his hand, though hated the way the boy flinched and let out a whine at her still gentle hold. “You think just cause my face’s mad it’s your fault?”

The boy shifted on his feet, looking down at them. “. . . My daddy always say so,”

Right, the original source of her anger, the thing she’d been stewing over when little Moxxie had cut through it.

Barbie. . . Barbie was WELL aware that her dad SUCKED. Even before he’d gone and pulled the crap he had with Blitzo. But even still. . . Sometimes, they’d share warm times. Those times when she followed him into woods nearby after Mama hit him or yelled something particularly nasty at him, wanting to check on him (Yeah, once upon a time, she’d cared about his feelings or though Mama was being overly mean. Idiot.). He seemed to appreciate the gesture at time, sharing a little bit of his gross juice that he was always guzzling down (Beer, he called it. It tasted bad, but it did this really cool thing if you had enough, where it made her feel lighter, like the room was spinning, and made her feel giggly. She could see the appeal, even if the taste was crap.), actually smiling down at her. Moments like that, as prickly as he could be, she’d treasured those moments with her papa. Moments they weren’t likely to have again, not after Blitzo.

But CRIMSON, Moxxie’s father? That guy might actually out crap her own dad, which should NOT have been possible! And yet, it seemed like he did!

Barbie had a crap dad, but a good mom, same as the little boy she was leading, but she wasn’t as shy as he was, not even when she’d been his age. That spoke to Crimson (And maybe even his mom too? You never knew what went on behind closed tents. She’d seen PLENTY of clowns who were so sweet to their audience, only to start crap talking them as soon as they were outta sight. Who knew if this Lucia woman was worse in private then she was being publicly?) being SO much worse than he was presenting. Which was just, ASTONISHING given what a blatant JACKASS he’d been already.

How!? How could you EVER be so mean to this ADORABLE little imp at her side!? He was so PRECIOUS! She’d pick him up and squeeze him so tight if she’d thought for a MOMENT that he wouldn’t burst into tears at the gesture.

Right, keep the anger off your face, Barb. Keep it off, she didn’t wanna scare him. No, instead she gave him the brightest smile she could, the kind she’d save for her brother if he’d done something truly great (Which was more times then she’d probably given him credit for. Hindsight was. . . Really, she owed him more praise and hugs then she’d probably given him, and she was only realizing it AFTER he was already gone! Thanks BRAIN! Mammon, her brain was supposed to be on HER side!), squeezing his hand again. “Well, I’M saying it’s not so. Who ya gonna believe? Me or him?”

“. . . Him?”

She felt a little bad for the flinch he made when she burst out laughing, but she couldn’t help herself. It probably wasn’t a joke, and a part of her burned with fury at the man Moxxie called father, but there was something about his blunt, near INSTANT answer that’d tickled her. Maybe it was the near constant depression she’d been suffering over the past near a week, but for some reason, the whole thing was WAY funnier than it probably should’ve been. She glanced at the little boy through her tears, finding his expression confused, and somewhat horrified. She did her best to stifle her giggles, knowing that she’d just scared him with that outburst.

“Oh my. Having fun over here?” Barbie turned to find Moxxie’s mother and Fizzarolli walking over, the woman having a bright and gentle smile as she spoke. “Did you tell a funny joke, Moxxie?”

He shook his head. “I. . . I don’t know?” He shrugged, still glancing over at Barbie with confusion and nervousness.

“Oh he did, trust me.” She said, using the hand not grasping his to wipe at her tears, shooting the older imp a smirk. “Though I don’t think you’d get it, no offense. You had to be there.”

“I. . . I was there and I don’t think I get it.” The boy murmured, shifting on his feet.

Again, a bark of laughter left her lips, shifting her hand from holding his to wrap around his shoulder to pull the tense boy close (A mistake she’d realize later, given the way he went stiff as a board.), shaking him gently. “Look at you, little dude! We could make a comedy duo here!” She smirked at him, looking up at his mother. “Hey, if he’s looking for a part time gig, maybe he could pop down here every now and again. Us two, we’d KILL it in front of an audience!”

It seemed to amuse the older woman, Lucia apparently, giggling into her hand, all while she stepped forward, patting her son’s back. “Well, Ah’ve always though mah son was destined for the spotlight.”

“Mommy-“ Moxxie made to protest, looking up wide eyed.

Seemed he need not worry as she quickly shushed him. “But Ah, don’t think he’s quite ready for an audience, though Ah ain’t opposed ta the idea of sitting down ta watch the two of you together, putting on a show together. So long as Moxxie’s amenable to it.”

“A man of bull?” Barbie tiled her head, giving the older woman a confused look. “I guess he could be bull if he really wanted to, but I think I more have the horns for that.”

It was now Lucia’s turn to burst out laughing, clutching her side and bending over, cackling and snorting all the while. “My horns are just fine!” Moxxie whined, a little blush on his face, twisting on his feet and the hand not in Barbie’s hand shot up to his horn, rubbing them in embarrassment.

It took Lucia a moment to compose herself enough to answer, and even then, she was still stifling giggles every few seconds. “N- Of cou- Of course sweeeeee- Heh heh. Of course, sweetheart.” She took a breath, patting the top of his head. “It doesn’t matter if someone has bigger horns then you. It’s not a good measure of character or worth.”

“Coming down on your ma’s side on that one.” Barbie shrugged. “Take Cash for example. My. . . Whatever. Anyway, he’s got the BIGGEST horns I ever seen on an imp. And he’s a piece of crap!”

“Language dear, please?” Lucia shushed, though Barbie could see a smile wide and bright regardless.

“Lang- I didn’t say nothing bad! I didn’t say the s word!’ Barbie pouted, looking over at Fizzarolli for support, only getting an amused shrug, signaling that she was on her own. Okay, now THAT was horseshit!

“_{Double negative again.}” Moxxie whispered again. Okay, that settled it. She wasn’t gonna have a boy three years younger than her knowing something she didn't. Boy’d better prepare himself. He was sitting down with her and explaining to her what he meant with that phrase. Double Negative? Negative was nothing, LESS Then nothing! How could you have DOUBLE negative!?

“You’re delightful either way, dear.” Lucia chuckled and reached out, patting the top of her head. Barbie didn’t really object, mostly cause as nice as this woman was still a VIP, a VIP married to a man who could potentially help bring her brother back. Don’t get her wrong, Barbie kinda liked this woman, but not as much as her brother. From anyone else, she might’ve snarled a little (Unless you were her mama, in which case, she’d lift herself up on her heels to press the top of her head against her hand. Hey, sue a girl, she liked affection from her mommy.), reminding whoever that she wasn’t a pet. But from this one? Just smile and permit it. For Blitzo.

She felt the little boy pull his hand from her’s, wandering over to Fizzarolli, whispering something in his ear. Her clown friend let out a loud cackle, getting a flinch from the younger boy. “Yeah, yeah, we got something like that. It’s. . . Well, it ain’t great, but hey, name me one place that’s GOT a decent one.” He shook his head smiling. “Hey, Barb? Someone’s gotta use the little boy’s room.”

The youngest imp’s face lit up red (Relatively anyway. Imp, so his skin was red already.), crying out in dismay, his hands flying up to cover his blush. Not that anyone’d judge him for it. Right, so you gotta piss? So what? Nothing embarrassing bout that. Mammon, everybody pissed, even the Sin she’d just invoked. . . Granted, according to what she’d read, not everybody’s pee end up clogging the crappers like Mammon’s allegedly did. “Well, if he’s looking for a room, he’d gonna be SEVERELY disappointed.” She chuckled, giving Moxxie a smirk. “It’s less a room and more a plastic box with a hole in the ground.”

The boy let out a little distressed whine, his mother shushing him, letting out a little chuckle. “Hush now, Moxxie. I’m sure it’s not as bad as she’s making it sound.” Well, she was in for a disappointment as well. It in fact WAS as bad as she was making it sound, which wasn’t much for her tastes. Then again, Barbie HAD been using johns for the most of her life, so maybe she was just too used to it at this point. “Fizzarolli? Would ya mind terribly showing me and Moxxie to yer. . . Bathroom?”

“Again, ma’am, room’s pushing it.” The younger imp chuckled, though he swept his arms around, motioning in the general direction of the johns. “But yeah, me and Barb will lead you to the place, no biggie.”

Urgh, right. She’d have to go with them. Darn it! The place stunk, even if you were standing like ten feet away. And they were placed some ways away from the main tents, right on the borders of the cheap walls around the place, so the ever present gasoline smell from the tents couldn’t even mask it. Even still, she shrugged and approached the three other imps. “We? What is this we? You’re leading. Star attraction and all that.” Let HIM lead the way. First one in, last one out. Hey, it only cut out like three seconds from the time she’d have to be in the putrid air of the johns area, but every second free of that stench was a good second.

“CO star attraction, Barbie.” Her younger friend slid up to her, looping his arm with her’s, the look on his face just SCREAMING he was doing this crap on purpose, not letting her outta this. “Come on now, nobody walks the tightrope without a spotter round here.”

“_{You’re such a jerk, you know that?}” Barbie hissed in his ear.

“_{I know you are, but what am I?}” Her younger friend snickered back, turning his smile back to the mother and child they were in charge of leading. “Step right this way. . . And feel free to run away gagging and screaming.”

Lucia let out another chuckle, the poor woman not realizing how little that statement was said as a joke.

Then again. . . Once they’d walked over to the johns section, the three children wincing at the smell, she kept any trace of disgust off her face. Admirable really. Mammon, she actually decided to breath in deep, her face looking nostalgic. “Wow. . . Bit messed up, but something bout that stench remind me a home.”

All three children, her own son included, looked at her like she was nuts. . . Cause she was. No ifs, ends, or ass about it. Lucia didn’t really pay the children’s bewilderment much thought besides a wave of her hand. “When you grow up on farmland like me, there are just some weird smells you get used to.”

Barbie was the first one to find her voice. “Miss? With all offense intended, you’re kinda nuts.”

Her bluntness only got a laugh out of the woman, clutching her stomach and giggling. “And YOU’RE too honest for yer own good. . . Ah like it.” She reached out, once again patting the top of the younger girls head, once again raising that partially annoyed, partially pleasant warm feeling in the girl. “Come on, Moxxie. Let’s get yer bladder sorted.”

“It stinks, Mommy.” The boy whined, one of his hands gripping his mother’s hand, the other gripping his nose, eye scrunched up.

“Indeed it does. All the more reason to hurry and finish your business quickly.” She gently led Moxxie in the direction of one of the johns, shushing comfort as they walked. “As unpleasant as the smell is, the discomfort of a backed up bladder is SO much worse, mah love. Trust Mommy on that.”

A joke appeared in Barbie’s head, one she couldn’t help but spill out. “Hey, if the johns ain’t up to your use, plenty of bushes around!” Lucia let out a small laugh and a shake of her head, but to her disappointment, Moxxie just tilted his head confused.

“You sure ya ain’t from Wrath, sweetheart? Cause Ah feel like ya’ve had my vibe since Ah got here.” Lucia laughed out, giving Barbie a warm smile while she gently led the confused Moxxie away. Fizzarolli followed after, giving Barbie a little wave, seeming to give her a little mercy and not forcing her further into the repugnant area. . . Which left her with a little time by herself. . .

What to do now? Just lean here against one of the tents, wait for her company to come back? She supposes it beats heading further into the piss and crap smelling area where they were, but-

“WHAT RETARDED-“

The loud voice made her jolt, her peaceful little moment disrupted. She whirled her head around for the voice, the spluttering seeming to come from nowhere. “FUCKING, GASOLINE!?” It took Barbie a moment to place the voice, tensing up when she finally did. Crimson. Her head whirling becoming far more frantic while she desperately tried to spot the terrifying jerk. “I’d thought some of these tents smelled like ass, but I NEVER thought ta question whether your dumb fuck of a husband had his lackeys drenching this place in. . . Cause WHY would I have ANY cause ta think he’d do something like THIS!?”

“I recall him saying SOMETHING along the lines that it was supposed to keep insects out of the tents, but I TRULY don’t know what he was thinking.” The sound of Barbie’s mother’s voice was a comfort, albeit one that was momentarily frustrating, as she could NOT place where they both were. “By some Mammon blasted MIRACLE there’s only been minor little accidents, accidents that were quickly stomped out before it could spread, but when ALL ours tents are drenched in Gasoline. . . Well, how’s the phrase go? Powder keg?”

Barbie FINALLY managed to pinpoint the voices. They were filtering through a tent near her. Were they inside? She snuck over, keeping low, straining her ears to hear every word. “Powder keg may be underplaying it. This is actually worse. MAMMON, Cash is a FUCKING moron!” Crimson’s voice hissed. Barbie grabbed the edge of the tent’s fabric, lifting it slightly to peek inside. She saw them, Mama and Crimson, arms looped, their backs to her, Crimson using his free hand to clench at his eyes. “Fucking. . . I NEVER thought I could have less respect for the guy, and I got nothing but contempt for him!”

“Welcome to the club, sir.” Her mother replied, staying silent a moment before she spoke again. “You can understand my concerns? Why I asked to see you?”

“Oh let’s not pretend this gasoline bullshit is why you called me. I know EXACTLY why you called me.” Crimson turned his head, and Barbie saw Mama flinch. “I KNOW what you want from me, and I ain’t so opposed to the idea, but don’t DARE trying ta pulling that one on me. You may fool yer fuck heap husband, but you AIN’T gonna pull a fast one over me, and I’ll backhand you good if you even TRY!”

Barbie could HEAR her mama swallowing, even what looked like ten feet away. “My apologies.” Another moment of silence past as Crimson turned away again, looking around. “You’re not. . . Opposed?”

“Like said, yer husband’s been a consistent pain in my ass. I don’t think a payment’s gone by that played out as the simple handoff it’s meant to be. Alessio’s ALWAYS coming back talking bout how he had to twist the guys arm to get shit done. Fu- Last time, when ya left a note with Alessio? Apparently he’d had to about twist Cash’s arm a full a hundred eighty degrees just ta collect. Fucking figures the month he decides ta be the most difficult is the month that our fee wouldn’t give him much trouble.” Crimson shook his head, but Barbie could hear amusement in his voice. “Then again, I can be a real penny pincher myself. Guess I can’t really blame him wanting ta hold on to new fortunes. Speaking of, how exactly did he manage to convince some pigeon to give him a bonus?”

Mama shifted, her arm tightening her grip on the scary imp’s arm. “You’ve met my daughter, Barbie? I have another child, a son, Blitzo. Well, had.” Barbie heard a growl in mama’s voice. “No Goetia goes around giving we less fortunate charity. Probably don’t even know the meaning of that word. No, every cent they give us has its price. My son. . . That was there price. Cash sold my son off.”

Crimson was silent for a moment before letting out a scoff. “. . . What an IDIOT. . .”

Mama nodded. “Yes indeed. Completely-“

“Seriously!?” Crimson sounded astonished, shaking his head. “So the Goetia fucks offer to pay up for one of his kids, and he trades away his male heir and not the daughter?”

Barbie silently glared and ground her teeth. Yeah, that tracked. Why have ANY semblance of decency and class when you could just dive headfirst into the asshole pool!? She saw mama’s shoulders tense, one of her fists clench. Here we go. Mama was usually kind and gentle (Unless you were called papa. . . Or, maybe say Cash. Pretty sure most didn’t call him papa round here besides her and Blitzo. In fact, if anyone beside her and her brother tried, he’d probably just yell at them,), but you did NOT want one of the best knife throwers the circus had ever had mad at you, ever, at all, in ANY way. This Crimson guy was gonna freaking GET it!

Barbie watched her mother, waiting for that glorious explosion (Even if she was somewhat concerned for her wellbeing. Mama wasn’t supposed to get to wound up.), even somewhat clenching up her fist. Finally, mama spoke, her voice sounding like she was talking through clenched teeth. “I’m unconcerned WHICH of my children he sold off, Mr. Malidlfrend. My rage burns regardless.”

“Right, right. But you know, when ya got one boy and one girl, one kid’s more valuable than the other, m’I right?” Crimson let out a barking laugh, seemingly ignorant or unconcerned with the growl from Mama. Even Barbie found herself growling and clenching her fist.

Mama took a breath, and again, Barbie braced herself to watch her Mama blow up, but again, Mama seemingly kept her cool, letting the offense slide. Which was CRAP! Anybody else said something like that, Mama’d punt them through the wall (Even if that was REALLY ill advised given her condition.)! “. . . Regardless, you understand my desire?”

“Yeah, yeah, maybe.” Crimson sighed out, sounding annoyed. “Gah, I REALLY want a smoke, but with the tents like th- THAT’S WHY HE ASKED ME NOT TA GET CLOSE TA THE-“ He made a little yell, grasping at his horn, pulling it and making a seething noise.

“Gotta be-“ His words came out of clenched teeth, shaking his head. “Get us outta here, fresh air and away from these tents. I need a smoke, and too much’ve a risk doing it in here, yer retarded as fuck husband.”

Mama hesitated (Again, she was supposed to avoid certain things, strenuous activity, drinking, smoking. It wasn’t good for her lungs.), but she simply nodded. “Right this way, sir.” Both Crimson and Mama stepped towards the tent flaps leading out of the tent. Barbie planned to follow them.

But her plans were cut short when a pair of hands clamped over her mouth, pulling her backwards. She screamed, though it was muffled by the white gloved hands, holding her firm against her captor’s body. She reached up, Trying to claw at the hands, hitting and scratching

“Shhhh.” Barbie froze recognizing the voice. She looked up, finding Lucia, looking down at her with a comforting smile. “Ah can forgive a girl being curious and eavesdropping, Barbie. Really Ah can. But in regards to mah husband, Ah must STRONGLY discourage it.”

Barbie made a muffled whine, trying to pull the woman’s hand away, which she did after another little shush. “Really?! All this sneaking around he’s doing with my mom, talking like he’s planning to hurt my dad!? You expect me to just drop it!?”

Lucia’s eyes flashed with something, pity maybe, squeezing the younger girl in her arms, softly patting the top of her head. “Expect ya to want to? No. But Ah AM telling you, for your own good and safety, don’t be in a hurry to dive headfirst into that pile a manure.” The woman actually kissed the top of Barbie’s head, making her flinch, but the woman released her right after, a sad and strained smile on her face.  “You’ll have plenty of decades ahead of you to be tainted. For now, enjoy your childhood as is. Trust me, one day you’ll miss the days of ignorance and innocence. . .”

Barbie didn’t know what to make of that, rubbing at the spot where the older imp had kissed her (Weirdo. Who kissed kids that weren’t yours?), wiping, like she could remove the gesture. She opened her mouth to let the woman have it. She thought that after EVERYTHING that Barbie had heard, either just now or this whole week, this woman could just tell her to drop it all like that?

But it wasn’t Lucia that cut her off. “Right, guest of the hour!” Fizzarolli’s voice cut through the tension. Barbie turned to find her friend walking over, the small Moxxie holding onto his hand and leading the child back over. “Apparently, star of the show is an inferior host compared to you. He’s INSISTING you be his guide.” He said, making an exaggerated pouty face.

Barbie quickly wiped the frustration off her face, replacing it with a smile, easy enough, given how much she desperately didn’t want to make the kid afraid or worried. “Hey, can’t blame a kid for having good taste.” She held out her hand, the younger imp hesitantly taking it, thankfully feeling his grip less clenched, a sign he was growing more comfortable in her hold? Good. “He’s overrated anyway. Always root for the underdog, am I right?”

Moxxie shifted on her feet, his little hoofs grinding against the dirt. “Fi- Fizz’s a pretty good clown.”

“Overrated, Moxxie.” She shuffled a little closer, making a quick glance over at Fizzarolli to make sure he wasn’t taking offense at her joke. No offense could be found, though she did catch him quickly flashing a middle finger her way, the smile on his face telling her that the gesture was as malicious as her joke. Harmless fun. “Yeah, sure, Fizzarolli’s got all the flash and glamor, but it’s all to distract from the thinness of his material, of his act. Pretty ta look at and all, but if- WHEN he screws up, all he’s got ta do is flash a smile, and his audience will believe it was ALL part of the show!”

Moxxie tilted his head, looking at her with confusion. “Isn’t. . . Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It is. She’s talking nonsense.” Fizzarolli chuckled, puffing up his chest, a smile of pride on his lips. “Adaptability. Best freaking skill a showman can have, and I got it in SPADES!”

“Also hot air. Gotta have plenty of that.” Barbie snarked back, wrapping her other arm around Moxxie’s shoulder, feeling a little flinch but the boy made no move to pull away. (If anything, he leaned in a little more. PROGRESS, YES!!) “Listen, sign of a good showWOMAN is to not HAVE to adapt. You should be able to do EVERY bit of your routine perfectly. You know what kinda showwoman has to practice for the eventuality that they DO screw up? Someone who IS gonna screw up! A hack!”

“. . . Are you seriously quoting Mr. Buckzo right now?” For the first time in this conversation, Fizzarolli’s smile dropped. Giving her a quirked eyebrow look.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, as a matter a fact, I AM quoting Cash! Trying not to think about that, thanks for the reminder, dude!” She spat when she said Papa’s name, more and more the idea taking root as the week had gone by. She’d called him papa, felt a great deal of affection, even if sometimes he got on her nerves. But after Blitzo. . . “But you gotta admit, a broken clock can be right once a day.”

“Umm, Barbie?” She looked down at Moxxie, who was squirming a little, seeming nervous about getting her attention. “It’s. . . Sorry, but it’s twice a day. A broken clock is right twice a day. . . Sorry, again.”

Barbie wasn’t offended, merely raising up her finger to wiggle. “Not if it’s a military time clock, my friend. Where the time goes from one to twenty four o clock? Then it’s only right ONCE.”

Again, Lucia let out a loud bark of laughter, giggling into her hand, Fizzarolli joining in soon after. And then, much to Barbie’s utter delight, little Moxxie leaned into her as he giggle away with them all! YES! She STILL had it! And bonus? She’d made MOXXIE laugh!

“Ah may have ta use that.” Lucia got out during a pause of her giggles, the older imp reaching down to pat Barbie’s head again. Touchy woman, or maybe it was a Wrath thing, if her accent was anything to go by? “Well, the smell is quite light to MAH nose, but I imagine you kids wanna skedaddle, ta fresher air and all that.”

Barbie smirked, looking down at Moxxie, who was still partially laughing. “I don’t know, I ain’t heard the little man complaining all that much. The stench growing on ya?” He shook his head widely, the smile on his face not shrinking. “I think you’re lying. I think you’re starting to like the stink. I think we should get some lawn chairs, set you up here, hang out here till it’s time to leave.”

“Imma knock you out you keep on this track of thought, Barb!” Fizzarolli gave her a glare, but Barb could see the mirth in his eyes, on his smile. There was no real threat to his words (Though she silently marveled that she’d managed to draw a threat from the younger imp. He was a sweetheart, not one for violence, and so far, the only one who’d managed to draw a threat from him was her twin brother. . . Pulling up Blitzo’s slack indeed, not that she considered Blitzo a slouch. . . Something she REALLY needed to tell him when- IF they got him back.). “You wanna stay here, Barb, you’ll be doing so alone.”

“Nah uh! Moxxie’s gonna be MORE than happy to stick with me, right?” She leaned into the younger boy, still shaking his head and laughing. “Mox, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to leave me here, hanging out with the johns all by myself, would you?”

“I’d. . . Not so long as you weren’t so cruel as to make me stay here.” The little boy giggles up, gently pulling, trying to lead her away from this place.

“Gah, traitor!” Barbie made an exaggerated cry, happily letting the younger imp pull away from these (LITERAL) crap pits, though not without draping her hand over her brow. “Mrs. Malidlfrend, you’ve raised a traitor and a turncoat!”

“_{Those are the same things.}” Came the whisper from the small boy. Smart ass (And she meant that affectionately.).

His mother seemed amused. “Forgive a girl her dramatics, Moxxie?” She giggled, following Fizzarolli as he led her by the hand to lead the group on their continued tour. “Or at the very least, smile and pretend to care about them. Take Mommy’s word on that.”

“Oh, so he takes after you then!?” Barbie jokingly glared at the older woman (Though she did admit to pulling some real anger she had to give it some flare. Kissing her head, telling her to drop all this sneaking and scheming her mama was doing with Crimson. She had plenty of kindling to throw on her burning anger to give it some heat.), lifting her free hand to shake at the woman slightly. “Way to have a sister’s back!”

“Hey, Moxxie?” Fizzarolli called back from the front. “Can you do something to SHUT your aunt back there up?”

The boy in question tilted his head, settling his pace to let Barbie lead them to follow his mother and the clown. “Aunt?”

“Yeah, Aunt.” Fizz waved his hand, not looking back, though Barbie could just HEAR the smirk on his lips. “I mean, if she’s calling Mrs. Malidlfrend up here sister, then clearly-“

“Oh shut UP, Fi- DAMN!” Barbie cried out, though suppressing the smirk on her own face.

“Language.” Was giggled out in response by Lucia.

Barbie spluttered for a few seconds, before pouting (Though not before shooting a little private screw you lady thought in Lucia’s direction. Don’t talk to her like she was Barbie’s mother. . . Even if she was sure mama would’ve said the same thing, but mama was mama, so she GOT to say things like that to Barbie.), walking alongside Moxxie, shooting a glare at the woman and kid leaving. “Thanks for getting me in trouble, Fizz! You insert bad word here, cause there’s a prude woman among us!” The insult was only met with another chuckle from Lucia.

“Hey, you did that all on your own, Barb.” Fizzarolli shot back, turning to wiggle his eyebrows and sticking out his tongue.

“Can I um-“ Moxxie’s voice caused the two to turn to him, the child flinching a little at the attention, but none the less, locking his eyes on Barbie. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.” Barbie replied.

Which only got a tilted head from the younger imp. “Uh, I don’t have a gun with me right now.”

. . . Okay, THAT was a potentially terrifying response. Normally, Barbie would’ve laughed at such a literal answer, but given his dad and the complete sincerity on his face. . . “Shoot, Mox. Means go ahead and ask.”

He made a little oh sound, before gesturing for her to lean down. She did, waving her hand at Lucia and Fizz, telling them silently to give them privacy, which they did. She leaned down, allowing Moxxie to whisper into her ear. “You and Fizzarolli? Are you two. . . Are you two friends?”

What? Not a question that Barbie had been expecting. “Well yeah, no duh, dude.” She whispered back to him, letting a LITTLE frustration slip into her tone (But not much, she didn’t want this adorable kid thinking she was turning on him.). “You think I’d let him talk to me like that if he wasn’t?”

Moxxie flinched a little, biting his lip and averting his eyes. “I don’t think he would talk to you like that if he was.” The boy replied. “I thought. . . I thought that if you liked someone, you were supposed to be nice to them?”

“Who says we ain’t?” She whispered back, pulling him a little closer as she eyed Fizzarolli, the younger boy smiling as he pointed out various tents and people, obviously having the time of his life filling in Lucia on EVERY bit of detail that he could cram with every breath. “Like said, if we weren’t friends, I wouldn’t let him get away with any the stuff he said to me just now.”

Moxxie made a little humming noise, and he could just SEE his little brain digesting what she said (And making such a CUTE face while he did it too!). “. . . Maybe it’s a difference of culture? Or upbringing?” Barbie had the vaguest sense of being insulted there, but she let it go. But this boy. . . Okay, she wouldn’t do anything TOO bad, as there was no WAY she could ever bring herself to harm this absolute sweetie pie, but this boy was stepping REAL close to insensitive ignorance here. “My mama. . . She always said that where she comes from, the Ring of Wrath? She always said the words you use to talk to the ones you love. . . They MEAN something. And it just feels like, insulting each other. . . I don’t know you two can see each other like that?”

“Again, who says we DO see each other like that?” He tilted his head at her, raising his little eyebrow. “Sometimes, sometimes, with certain kinds of friends, part of the fun is saying things you don’t mean, Ribbing each other, poking back and forth. Most of time, half the stuff that’s getting said, the threats and insults, it’s not crap we actually mean, and we both know it. He knows my tone well enough. If he did actually hurt my feelings or piss me off in a way that matters, he’ll backtrack and apologize, same on my end. I ain’t looking ta hurt him, not really, and I’ll say sorry if I accidentally go over the line. Plenty of friendships would be a lot more boring if there wasn’t the occasional pot shot. Sides, knowing where someone’s boundaries are? Knowing how much you can push at someone’s buttons? That can be a good thing.”

Moxxie seemed to consider that, digesting the idea. “. . . I don’t think I’d like having a friendship like that, saying bad things about my friend, having them say things back. Seems too. . . Routine to me, familiar. . .” Barbie did her best to keep the anger off her face, but still, she brought a hand to her side, clenching her fist in secret. Yeah, no mystery on that. His dad, AGAIN! “I always thought, if I. . . If I made a friend or. . .” He turned his head away, hiding his face from view.

“A friend ooooor?” Barbie whispered, even leaning in a bit more, keeping one eye on the two imps in front of them in case they decided to eavesdrop (Fizz was rambling away, ignorant of Moxxie and Barbie’s conversation, but she noticed Lucia making little glances back every few seconds. Yeah, stay out this conversation you! None of your business and YOU weren’t invited!).

The boy took a few seconds to turn back and answer, sporting a little blush on his face (Which by the way. made the boy look all the cuter! This boy, that shouldn’t be POSSIBLE! He was already adorable.). “_{A. . . Agirlfriend.}”

. . . Okay, she heard that JUST fine despite him whispering that even quieter than before, but there was NO way for her not to poke out just a touch. A little tease, nothing major. “Sorry, didn’t catch that, Say again?”

The younger boy made this cute little whine and leaned in closer. “A girlfriend?”

“Ooooh, one of those, eh?” She snickered, taping his shoulder. “Never had one myself, but I hear they’re. . . Well, I hear that they’re a lot, both ways, good and bad.”

“You’ve nev- why would you-“

Moxxie scrunched up his eyes, looking at her with confusion before shaking his head. “Anyway, if I ever. . . When my dad chooses one for me-“ His DAD chooses one!? Right, cause Crimson wasn’t bad enough! CHOOSING Moxxie’s girlfriend for hi- If Cash EVER came up to her and tried to tell her who to date, Barbie would be grabbing the nearest spare piece of wood that was laying around and taking a page from Mama’s book and WHALING on him till he was running away, shrieking like a bitch! . . . Hell, after all the crap with Blitzo, she was kinda inclined to do all that already. . . Something to put on the backburner for a bit. “When he chooses a girlfriend for me, I. . . I really just want them to be someone I can get along with, be happily married to, you know? Someone to love forever, someone to care for, someone who’ll care for me just as much. No arguments, no fighting, yelling, or cursing at. . . No hitting. . .”

Oh nobody DARE better hit this adorable little imp. Barbie’d go apeshit! Still. . . “I hate to be the cynic, but. . . I think that that sort of thing, the conflicts and all that? I think it comes naturally with being married.”

The little boy looked up at her with confusion, so she carried on. “There aren’t. . . Aren’t a lot of marriages around here, families. Sure, you got some siblings, couples, all sorts. But the only married couple round here are my mother and father and. . . Well.” She sighed out, squeezing his hand. “Even when things were more. . . Stable between them, before Cash decided to give my brother away-“

“Give away!?” Moxxie cried out, his whispers coming to an end as he let out a gasp and raised voice, drawing the attention of the other two imps.

“Moxxie? Everything alright, mah love?” Lucia asked, turning and looking like she was ready to walk back over. Fizzarolli. . . Poor kid (And yeah, she was WELL aware he was just a year younger than her, but she STILL got to call him kid. Cause rules!) looked like he’d worked out EXACTLY what she was talking to Moxxie about. Then again, what else would she be talking about with the words ‘give away’?

Moxxie nodded, leaning in a little closer to Barbie. “Fine, Mommy. I’m fine.”

Lucia eyed them for another moment, looking like she didn’t believe the platitude, but turned back to Fizzarolli, putting her hand on his back, maybe having picked up on the boy’s distress. . . Though again, not a lot else that could be interpreted from his face.

”What do mean your dad gave away your brother?!” Moxxie resumed his whispers, leaning in and looking confused.

“Exactly like it sounds, kid.” She muttered out, spitting to the side. “We had some Goetia guest come in bout a week ago. Apparently, they took a liking to my brother. They made my dad an offer, and boom, my brother’s sold off!” She ground her teeth, doing her best to recall everything she could remember of him. His voice. . . Without fresh interactions with him, she was beginning to question it. Was that what he sounded like? It tore at her, all these things slipping away. She’d lost him so suddenly, now she was beginning to question whether she truly DID remember the sound of his voice. It was the most infuriating thing!

She felt her hand squeezed, the younger imp trying to comfort her. Such a sweetie. “Uh. . . Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Barbie squeezed the hand back, leaning in to tap her side against his. “But I was bringing that up to make a point, wasn’t I? Getting sidetracked. What were we talking bout?”

“Uh, you were telling me about marriage?” Moxxie replied. Yeah, that tracked. It was coming back to her. Barbie opened her mouth to continue on.

Unfortunately, she was cut off. “She was talking to ya bout what?” Moxxie flinched hard, whirling around, Barbie turning her head a little slower, finding that Crimson had walked up quietly behind them, hands on his hip, smirking with an eye roll, Barbie’s mama standing a little behind him. The man sighed out. “Leave it ta a woman ta bring up tying the knot the SECOND she smell the fragrance of riches. You’re barking up the wrong tree, girl. He’s got other prospects that don’t involve poor circus performers.”

Poor circus- Okay, she was about to let this guy HAVE it, regardless of this guy’s ability to help bring her brother back! But again, the insult on her lips was cut off as Moxxie stepped forward, shaking his head. “No! No, daddy! I was the one who brought marriage up! She was just-“

“You were? Little scamp, come ere!” Crimson smirked wickedly, pulling Moxxie from Barbie’s grasp, wrapping his arm around the shrinking and trembling Moxxie, lightly patting Moxxie’s chest. “Trying ta be a lady’s man like yer dad, eh? Smooth talker! You gotta be careful though, you little player you. Bringing up Marriage in fronta a broad is like turning on a garden hose in her panties, revs em right-“

“CRIMSON!!”

It seemed that just about EVERYONE jumped at the rage filled shriek that echoed through the area. Barbie turned towards the source, finding Lucia, whose face was engulfed in rage. Her teeth clenched, just as tightly as her fists, stomping towards her husband, who looked befuddled at his wife’s anger (To be fair, Barbie was a little confused as well. A garden hose? What, this guy thought she’d piss herself if someone brought marriage up to her? How much of a little bitch did he think she was?). “What!? The hell’re you raising yer voice for!? And at WHOM!?”

“AT YOU!! Ah’m raising my voice at YOU!! ARE YOU-“ The woman spluttered for a few seconds, grinding her palm against her temples. “HE’S six! SHE’S not much older! Why in SATAN’S UNHOLY NAME would you think that THAT was an appropriate thing to say to a CHILD!!??”

“Mammon’s TAINT, woman! It was a fucking JOKE!” Crimson shoved Moxxie off to the side, back to Barbie and Fizzarolli (Who’d scampered over to the other two children for safety. He never did very well at dealing with conflicts happening around him.), stomping right over to meet Lucia, glare to glare. “What’m I not allowed to tell JOKES anymore!? You REALLY gonna play into the whole ball and chain archetype, you precious little cun-“

“Children!” Mama was running up to the trio of imp children, blocking the arguing married couple from view, a forced smile on her face. “Why don’t we move this tour along, leave these two ta talk in private, alright?”

“Yes, please, Miss Wire!?” Lucia made waved the trio of children and Barbie’s Mama away, her glare never leaving her husband. “Carry on the tour! We’ll catch up once he and Ah’ve had a WORD!”

Moxxie was leaning heavily against Barbie as the three were led away though the echoes of his parent’s screams followed them, no one talking until the voices were barely a whisper in the air, mostly blocked out by the other sounds of the circus.

“. . . Anything. . .” Mama seemed to be at a loss for words, a forced smile on her face as she rubbed Fizzarolli’s and Moxxie’s back, the two shaking a little. “Anything in particular strike your fancy, young man?”

“. . . Anything’s fine.” Poor little Moxxie responded after a moment, clenching Barbie’s hand (In a somewhat decent grip.), and wiping as his eyes with his free sleeve. “Please, just as far away from-“

“Right, right. Of course. Alright, this way, children.” Mama’s smile seemed to shift to look more genuine, but Barbie could see it, the strain and effort it took to keep it like that. She was still worried as she gently patted the backs of the trio of children to urge them forward. They were walking only a moment before she seemed to breath heavy. "Fizzarolli? Can your aunt lean on you a little? I’ve been on my feet all day.”

Fizzarolli moved instantly to her side, allowing her to wrap her hand around his shoulder, leaning in slightly, though it was a little awkward because of the size difference (Fizzarolli only came up to her hip, meaning she wasn’t leaning too much. Barbie suspected that after their guests left, Mama was gonna have her help her to bed, laying down all evening.). She and Fizz pulled ahead slightly, not too much, like a foot or two ahead of Moxxie and her. The poor thing was so quiet, leaning into her, squeezing her hand, looking so miserable. She didn’t know what to say to the kid.

Luckily (Or maybe unluckily, given how quiet and sad he sounded.), Moxxie was the first to speak. “Maybe you’re right. . .” He sniffled out. “They’ve. . . They’ve gotten worse. They. . . They seemed happy together. Daddy used to smile at her all the time. They’d sit together and hold hands at the table. But over the months, the last year or two. . . Maybe that’s just what being married does?”

Barbie could only nod numbly, squeezing the boy’s hand in comfort as much as she could without hurting him. “Same with mine. . . I don’t know when it started but. . . Things were so much better when we- My brother and I, were younger. Seems like. . . Seemed like it was beginning to crack and crumble when we were learning to walk.” She sighed out, her mind recalling times when her parents seemed so much more stable. Less fighting, less Mama hitting Cash, less Cash degrading mama with every word. There were smiles, laughs, seemingly fun. . . Where had all that gone? “The idea of love, being loved, being happy. It’s a nice idea, but. . . I think that’s all it is. An idea. Marriage? Marriage will just ruin whatever love there was to begin with.”

“Barbie. . .” Mama’s voice seemed to echo through the air. She whirled around at the shocked voice, finding Mama looking at her, wide eyed and horrified, looking like she was gonna cry. Barbie didn’t know what to do, what to say. Didn’t even know what had upset her mama in the first place. Mama’s eyes scrunched up, turning away. “. . . We’ll. . . We’ll talk later, okay baby?”

“Wha-“ Barbie felt like the blood in her veins had just frozen, a chill rant through her body. They’d TALK!? Like, talking as in, she was in trouble!? She pulled a little on Moxxie’s hand as she lurched forward, but some part of her couldn’t break the contact. There was something stable to it, comfort. “Mama, I didn’t do anything! I-“

“Shush, my love.” The woman turned back to hug her, the embrace tight and stiff, more then she’d ever felt before. She felt a kiss placed upon her brow, but unlike the kiss she’d gotten from Lucia (Still weird FREAKING woman!), there was a warmth from me, comforting and soothing. “You’re not in trouble, dear. . . But we do need to talk, okay?”

Barbie took a moment to enjoy this strange hug. Mama. . . Mama sounded so sad, and she didn’t understand why? Because of what she’d said? What was so wrong about it? Mama HATED Cash, had said it outright multiple times. She hit and screamed at him at every opportunity. But that hadn’t always been the case. Being married. . . Being married had ruined them! What was wrong with her saying that? She couldn’t vocalize anything, not her thoughts or her confusion. She had to settle for a quiet, “. . . Okay.”

 Another kiss was Mama’s only reply, pulling away, leaning more heavily on Fizzarolli then before. Barbie was let walking behind the two, Moxxie in hand, trying to work out Mama’s strange behavior.

“. . . I’m sorry I just got you in trouble.” She heard the boy whisper in her ear, far quieter then he’d been a moment ago. Trying to make sure her Mama didn’t overhear again? What a sweetheart.

She pushed it down, all the worry and confusion. Pushed it into the darkest recesses of her mind. Nope! Not letting that idea fly whatsoever! “Hey, you heard her, little guy. I ain’t in trouble. So cool yourself.”

“I’m not that little!” The boy whined, a little glare on his adorable face.

“Are you kidding? I can barely see you!” She released his hand to wrap her arm around his shoulder, pulling the squirming boy closer, though she could hear him giggling a little. “There’s a reason you’ve been holding my hand this whole time. I let you go and you’ll disappear, never to be found again, you’re so small.”

“I am not!” He cried out, trying to slip out of her grasp. She allowed him to struggle before letting him slip from her grasp, before looking around wildly, even though the boy was standing right in front of her, puffing up his cheeks.

“Crap! I lost him!” She whirled her head around from left to right, ignoring the smaller boy’s attempts to wave his hands in front of her, turning her in time to conveniently miss them. “He can’t have gone far! His small legs wouldn’t have taken him far!”

“I’m right here!!” Moxxie whined, now jumping up and down while Barbie raised her chin higher and higher to keep Moxxie out of her line of sight. “Barbie!?”

“Weird, I can hear him, but I don’t see him?” She was making more and more wild and sudden shifts and circles while the boy was practically skipping and jumping around her to get her attention. Still she could hear his giggles, even if he was trying to stifle them, trying so hard to be truly annoyed and angry. Mammon, those giggles! Music to her ears! She dropped to her knees, pawing at the dirt. “Crap! Did I step on him or something!?”

“I’m NOT that SMALL!!” He was grabbing at her hands now, pouting. “Look at me!”

“Oh thank Mammon! THERE you are.” She tugged him into a hug, putting on a show of relief. “Moxxie, you can’t leave my sight like that, someone might step on you without anybody noticing.”

“I’M NOT SMALL!!” The little boy stomped his hoof on the ground, his face equal parts pouting and giggles. It was the most adorable thing!

“Relax would you, little one.” She cooed mockingly, turning around and offered him her back. “Small things get stepladders or rides. So, are you big or small?”

There was a moment of silence before she heard a grumble. Feeling the boy take hold of her shoulders, climbing up. She moved her arms to loop around his legs, lifting herself, Moxxie settled into the piggyback ride. “. . . This isn’t me admitting anything, Barbie.” The boy grumbling.

“Whatever you say, little man.” She chuckled, turning back to make her way after her mother and Fizz who had no doubt walked off, leaving her and Moxxie to their game.

Except. . . No, they had not in fact, walked off as Barbie had assumed. No, they were in fact, standing right there, watching her and Moxxie. Mama was looking at her with such a warm smile, so in contrast to her. . . Whatever she had been feeling about what Barbie had said two minutes ago. Fizz was- Fizz was gonna get an ASS whooping if he didn’t wipe the amused smile off his face (Okay, no, she of course wouldn’t hurt Fizzarolli, but he DID need to get that look off his face before she did SOMETHING to get rid of it her DAMN self.). “Fizz, shut your FACE!”

“I’m not saying anything, Barb.” Fizz replied, wiggling his brow and sounding WAY too smug and amused.

“Darn right you’re not!” She sneered back, deciding that she was taking point, walking past her mama and Fizz, though she INFURIATINGLY could just FEEL their amused smirks burning into the back of her. . . Well her back.

Didn’t matter (Even if she didn’t want to see them.). What did matter? The little giggles she could hear from Moxxie, the smile on his face she could spot from the edges of her vision as he leaned his head forward?

Worth it.