Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  “Caleb, are you sure this place isn't haunted?” Nott yelps as the door creaks behind them. 

  “Ja, it's just old Nott.” Caleb isn't half as distressed as his companion by the nature of this forgotten home. Though he can admit to understanding why she's so frazzled by it. 

  There's a fine layer of dust inside the home and the air is a miasma made of stale air, wood rot, and possibly the scent of animal feces. The home itself is so old that every wooden board groans as Caleb walks across them. Only sunlight illuminates the space, and it's exclusively from the open door Nott cowers beside. Keeping it open so Caleb can see without any issue despite his lack of darkvision. Which works as the particles floating in the air suggest that if he had lit a lamp, or any flame for light, there wouldn't be any house or Caleb anymore. Despite its undeniably deteriorated interior Caleb notes a lack of holes in the ceiling or anything problematic besides mold. 

  “This could house us for a time, mein freund,” Caleb mumbles, continuing to explore the abandoned hut. There's a main room that once acted as a multipurpose space, living room, kitchen, and dining room, if Caleb were to hazard a guess. 

  “Are you sure Caleb? This place gives me the creeps!” Nott whines watching him explore the relatively small space. Finding no evidence of any visitors besides forest vermin and them, he turns his focus to the two doors leading to back rooms. Caleb is debating between investigating the left or right first when his familiar, Frumpkin, jumps from his shoulders. 

  “Frumpkin,” Caleb calls only for the orange tabby to trot its way to the left door, pawing at it.

  “Mrrowp!” Frumpkin ignores him in favor of meowing at the door. 

  Caleb throws his caution aside in favor of opening the door that has captured his familiar's attention. He doesn't toss open the door however for fear its ancient hinges would give out sending the door to the floor. Frumpkin chirps, slipping inside without a care, and Caleb moves to follow, only stopping when Nott yelps behind him. He spins to see she's scrambling to chase after him. 

  “Are you ok?”

  “Y- Yes! Just don't want you going in here alone!” Nott trembles despite her words clutching her crossbow in a white knuckle grip. Her big yellow eyes faintly glow, darting around in search for anything amiss.

  “Dankè, that is very kind of you.” Caleb's gratitude makes his companion beam up at him.

  His attention is brought back to the room when Frumpkin meows. Caleb slips into the room after his cat with Nott at his heels. They're greeted by a tiny bedroom that is filled with furniture just like the rest of the home. It seems just as untouched as well as Frumpkin trots back to Caleb's feet. Far happier than it had been before jumping off his shoulders.

  “You found a good room Frumpkin,” Caleb praises the purring familiar that rubs against his legs. 

  “That bed looks rather rotted,” Nott side-eyes the bed tucked into the corner. 

  Caleb eyes it as well and decides to investigate this room more thoroughly. He puts a hand on the bed and presses down on it. It creaks under the pressure but otherwise doesn't complain or crumble under his weight which is a relief. It seems big enough for both Nott and Caleb to curl up together. There's a dresser, several rows of shelving line the walls, and there's a covered window that could let in a nice amount of light. Caleb feels a soft tug at his pants and focuses on the nervous goblin at his feet.

  “Caleb, I think that the other room must be a bathroom and I really need to pee. I'll be back.”

  “Ja, do not fall in.” His joke seems to brighten her mood. Despite seeming ok with the house knowing there is a nice bed she keeps her crossbow in her hands. Taking it loaded to the next room over with her. Caleb hums, searching for Frumpkin spotting the familiar pawing at the back of a dresser. 

  “What has your attention?” Curiosity gets the best of him so Caleb joins Frumpkin to investigate. Checking the dresser and the wall behind it he notices a slight indent in the wall. 

  “A false wall?” Caleb mumbles and gets to work. He pushes the dresser out of the way with no small amount of effort. Once it's moved he begins checking the wall for a way to open it.

  “Caleb? What happened?” Nott returns, growing panicked by him moving things around.

  “Found something, bitte, see if you can get it open.”

  “A fake wall? I can try.” Nott trots over and Caleb steps back to give her space to work. She checks the wall putting her large sensitive ear to the wall. She taps on it a few times moving around based on whatever she hears. After some testing she seems to find whatever she's searching for and wiggles her claw between two boards in the wall. Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on wiggling the talon just right- click .

  The wall slackens and Caleb gently pushes, allowing the false wall to swing open, unlocked. Nott whoops victorious before registering that the wall leads to a small dark space with a ladder going down. The ominous reveal kills any joy and she races to hide behind Caleb's leg. He leans in trying to get a better look, but it's far too dark for him to discern anything.

  “I knew it was too good to be true!” Nott screeches and Caleb answers by casting with familiar gestures. His hands warm with arcane energy as he summons several orbs of light. 

  “Caleb, you can't go down there! Obviously something horrible is down there!” 

  “Most likely, but this place can't be used by us if it's a danger.” Caleb begins his descent into the dim lit passage. Climbing down the creaking ladder that does not feel stable in his hands. Is he risking being stranded underground by delving into the dark? Swallowing the lump in his throat Caleb continues with a distressed Nott following his lead. They touch down on damp soil and Caleb brings his orbs down spreading them out to get a better look.

  “Scheisse,” Caleb scans over what is obviously an alchemist's workspace. Various shelves line the walls of this underground cavern covered in bottles. Rotting herbs hang from racks obviously meant to be ingredients kept on hand. There's tables and bookshelves lining the walls covered in yellowed papers and rotted studies. 

  “We're in a witches hut Caleb!” Nott yelps fixating on the center of the room.

  “We're gonna be sacrificed to something! It was a trap!” Nott tries to pull his coat back towards the ladder. He doesn't move, curiosity gnawing at his mind, keeping him frozen to the spot. There's a hum in the air, like the crackle of electricity that warns of a lighting strike, and it tickles at the parts of him attuned to the weave. 

  “Nein, no one has been here in some time, Nott. Whoever would use such a space would never leave it in such a poor state.” Caleb reassures her, unsure how much of his promise is justification for himself. 

  He walks forward dragging Nott as she's unwilling to release his coat to retreat without him. He watches every step to ensure he doesn't trigger any traps or smear the edges of the magic circle. There's no telling what the circle is for until he takes a good look at it. Kneeling at its edge he notes this circle was carved into the ground and filled with something. Leaning down he takes a sniff and picks up the familiar scent of iron, undeniably blood. Why would someone make a circle of blood? 

  “Caleb be careful! It might pull you in!” Nott hisses pointing her crossbow at the circle. 

  “I doubt that, mein freund,” Caleb pulls back from the circle. There's some runes carved that he recognizes without thought, and others make him itch in a familiar way. He used to know what those runes meant before everything. 

  “I can't place what it is for, but-” Caleb startles when something darts from the corner of his vision. Nott shouts, firing off her crossbow and hitting the source of the movement. It squeaks and hits the ground revealing a bat, dead with a crossbow clean through it.

  “Oh, it was just a bat,” Nott sighs. 

  Her relief is short-lived as the circle begins to glow and crackle with energy. The dead bat's blood triggering whatever spell had laid long forgotten in this place. It glows red as some runes twists becoming crimson eyes that focus on the nearest figure, Caleb. 

  “Caleb!” Nott lunges trying to pull him back as energy bursts out as tendrils. They lash out, restraining his limbs with scalding energy. His arms burn with arcane energy in such a horrible, familiar way that he screams. His vision is taken over by crimson light and his every nerve is aflame with twisted, horrid energy. 

   “The pact is finished,” His head rings with a salacious purr from an unknown voice. All the lights fade away leaving Caleb and Nott collapsed on the dirt with a third figure near them. They both gawk at the person that's appeared in the center of that circle.

  It's a shorter, humanoid well-built figure with several eye-catching features: dewy lavender skin, ebony ram horns covered in jewelry, crimson eyes lined with gold, a mane of curly dark purple hair, and glass hooves are the first traits Caleb notes. His eyes drag to the left arm of this creature, it's covered in peacock feathers that twist into flowers ending in a clawed hand. Caleb glances at effeminate hips noting that this being is bare as a babe and is out for all to see. Tearing his eyes away from the dark curls between its legs Caleb fixates on the one thing still glowing in the room. It's a series of crimson markings akin to a tattoo under the creature's belly button that pulses with magic. 

  “Ah, hello.” It purrs bending over to get a good look at the collapsed wizard.

  “You must be my new master, hm?” Caleb stares at the smirking fiend, a spaded tail curling up and behind it like a cat. 

  “Though- the blood of the circle is different. Don't think you made it did you lovely?’”

  “Nein,” Caleb breathes and the creature cocks its head. The movement tossing that shoulder length hair showing off gorgeous, shining curls. 

  “Yet here you are, wearing my pact sigil. Suppose we'll have to see how this goes won't we?”

  “Was?” 

  “You back away from Caleb!” Nott screams pointing her crossbow at the stranger. It smirks at the goblin amused by her attempt at threatening it.

  “I wouldn't do that,” It barely speaks up before Nott's anxious trigger finger sends a bolt at it.

  The creature frowns as a serpent lunges from its shoulder snapping at the bolt in half midair. Hissing fills the air as several serpents unwind from underneath its plumage. Emerald snakes all with glowing crimson eyes fixate on Nott baring their fangs. Caleb noticed as the hooved being tenses like a cat ready to lunge at prey.

  “Stop!” His voice sets off the tattoo on its womb and a matching band around his forearm. It freezes up the snakes going silent, not moving an inch. 

  “You will not lay a hand on her,” Caleb shakes as his brand burns from being used to control this thing. It cocks its head perhaps to look at him? He can't due to it lacking any pupils to tell where its focus lies. 

  “Do not- this is something far beyond either of us, Nott. Do not anger it.”

  “But Caleb, it did something to you!” 

  “I didn't do a thing!” It laughs at her accusation, “You summoned me precious whether you meant to or not!” 

  “Enough both of you,” Caleb sighs, checking the brand that the weave has seared into his skin. The crimson runes are similar to the summoning circle, there's no denying that's what it was now, with a few exceptions littered among them. 

  “Well, no more bickering I suppose, boss's orders.” It sings straightening back up, adjusting its stance to something more relaxed. 

  “Since this wasn't your intent, I am going to guess you have no orders for me?” It chirps staring at Caleb with an unblinking gaze, waiting.

  “Nein,” Caleb pulls his sleeve over the brand. 

  He'll have to study it for a while before he can hope to safely remove it, and banish this creature back to whichever lower plane it came from. For now, he has no choice, but abide by whatever contract he's accidently forged with this being. Rising to his feet Caleb checks seeing the circle has vanished. Whoever made that circle they never intended to send this thing back to where it came. Perhaps Nott was more accurate about this having been a witch's hut than he had originally thought? 

  “Well, in that case I suppose I'll just have to do whatever comes to your mind then!” It chuckles, tapping a claw against its plush bottom lip.

  “Let's see, perhaps riches? You two certainly seem like a pair that could use coin. Mortals go wild for it.” It chuckles, eyes narrowing as it presumably looks them both over. Covered in dirt with their hair and clothes a mess, an undeniable smell of unwash and soil wafting off them, noticeable even in the damp underground space. 

  “Nein,” Caleb can't imagine something more eye-catching for the assembly and their associates than two handsomely rich randoms appearing from nowhere.

  “Oh? Love then?” 

  “Nein,” Caleb repeats himself sterner than before.

  “Then what do you desire?”

  “For you to put on clothing and to let us get back to exploring this place. We are tired and saw a bed here.” Caleb turns, putting his back to the fiend and heads for the ladder. Nott startles charging after him and he lets her up the ladder first. Once he sees her goblin feet disappear over the top he follows suit. Hauling himself back into the bedroom he jumps when that thing is waiting for him, sitting on the dresser he struggled to move.  

  “I could make this sad little hut a mansion,” It sings as Caleb recovers his composure. 

  “Nein, we do not need nor want a mansion.” He walks past the troublesome fiend and sits on the creaking single bed. Whoever had wanted to summon this being would have lunged at such an opportunity. Perhaps a desire for more is why they tried to summon it to begin with? Whatever they wanted it's clear that asking anything of this creature, even bound, would backfire terribly for him and Nott. He ignores it as he sets up a familiar alarm spell throughout the room, just in case.

  “No?” It seems skeptical even as Caleb finishes his work and gets comfortable on the moth eaten sheets. 

  Nott blows a raspberry at the fiend leaping onto the bed to join him. She takes vigil at his feet staring daggers at it while clutching to her crossbow. 

  “No, If you desire an order. Leave us be to rest, it has been a long day.” Caleb dismisses it, closing his eyes and trusting the searing band of magic around his forearm to force its obedience. 

  He doesn't hear it leave, he didn't see or hear it leave the underground lab either, but he feels Nott relax and properly settle at his feet after a bit. That's as good as he can hope for in this situation. Perhaps they can clean this place up a little and find some food tomorrow? If they're lucky the presence of this creature will not scare away the fauna, or the previous occupation will have had a garden he could try and harvest from. Having a plan of action helps Caleb's exhausted but ever racing mind a bit of relaxation as he slips into a fitful slumber.

  Their need for sleep ensures neither mortal is watching as the greater demon they accidentally , he'll never get over that, summoned wanders. Dark talons glide along long forgotten furniture leaving lines in the thick layers of dust. Their snakes, an extension of himself, flick their tongues tasting the stale air noting a distinct presence of black mold. That can't be good for their mortal lungs, after all, paper cuts can even kill them nevermind a dangerous fungus! At some point, his brand pulses with energy, the annoying thing, distracting him from his exploring.  

  His contractor is having a rather harsh wave of emotions based on the feeling. Stepping back into the bedroom she watches as the man trembles in his sleep, quietly gasping. It appears the human is having a nightmare and projectioning his terror without intending to. Humming, it wanders over and leans down planting a chaste kiss to the ginger's dirty sweat slicked cheek. The little bit of magic she imparts seems to settle over the man like a soothing blanket. Easing his trembling and waves of emotion coming through the pact mark which is a relief for both of them. That constant pulsing gets rather painful when left to continue for a bit.

  “Troublesome master I've gotten,” Sighing, she vanishes reappearing back in the main room. First things first, no master of his nor himself, will live in such a horrid unkempt space! The demon busies itself cleaning the hut with as little magic as possible. If it pulls too much it'll awaken the human and she'll have to explain herself, and that isn't a discussion she's willing to have with a man who seems alright living in such squalor. Oh no, her master will have a clean home when he awakens whether he likes it or not! 

  Under the demon's arcane influence Caleb sleeps through the most restful eight hours he's experienced in years. His dreams are full of the most bizarre, wondrous circus setting and fair folk. He spent his time escorted by a fantastical older red-headed woman dressed in starlight. She took him to listen to a little angel sing the sweetest tunes, have him dance around a bonfire that changes colors with the song, and drunk themselves blue overflowing with laughter. It was such a strange change that when Caleb awoke feeling light he almost called for his parents. When he notices he's not in his childhood bedroom he freezes up. Nott is still snoring away peacefully oblivious to the changes in their environment. 

  They fell asleep in a dust filled, half-rotted, abandoned hut yet there's not a hint of either now. The single bed has turned into a nest of color that smells of fresh linen; the window has been revealed and decorated with lilac curtains flooding the room with morning light. That allows him to admire the spotless floor and repaired dresser returned to its rightful spot. Caleb takes a deep breath unable to taste the wood rot or mold in the air. What has that devil been doing while they slept? He rises from the bed, careful not to wake Nott, and explores the rest of the hut. 

  He's greeted by a delicious smell and completely different interior. The wood flooring has a large rug covering most of it on top of that is a sturdy dining room table large enough to host three with the appropriate amount of chairs to match. There's a pretty porcelain set laid out and clinking draws his attention left. Right against the wall working on a new countertop beside a fresh fireplace with a cauldron that hadn't been there the night before is the devil. It's not taken a different form in the last eight hours still sporting peacock feathers and hissing snakes. Thankfully it has put on clothes as Caleb had requested the night before. Its center is clenched by a corset that hugs a sleeveless white dress to their frame. Otherwise it is just as bare as when they had met with glass hooves tapping against flooring. 

  “Scheisse,” Caleb hisses, confused by everything. Didn't he say that he didn't want or need a mansion? Its pointed ears perk up and it twists to look at him.

  “There you are! Come, it's time to eat. That's how it is for mortals, yes? Three meals a day, when you wake, halfway through, and before you rest again?” It turns, walking to the table and serving up a fresh breakfast. Presumably the source of that mouth watering smell is fresh pancakes. How long has it been since Caleb had such a thing?

  “It's been some time since I've had a master so if I'm wrong, let's just say I'm out of date.” It chatters, producing glasses filling them with orange juice. 

  “Why have you done this?” Caleb's confusion is the first thing to tumble out of his mouth.

  “The cleaning or the food?” It pauses, raising both brows and waiting.

  “Yes.”

  “Because I am a greater demon, I am a powerful planer being, and no master of mine nor myself will live in a building filled with mold.” It brightens tail flicking and curling like a pleased cat. 

  “I said I did not want a mansion,” Caleb reminds it, only getting a smirk in return.

  “And I did not give you a mansion, I just cleaned. It's funny how such a small place can feel like a mansion if you take care of it.” It vanishes and reappears just behind him its hands on his back pushing him toward the table. 

  “Hurry on now, human food gets cold. Eat up and we can work on all of-” It gestures at Caleb's whole person, “-this.” 

  “You are very pushy for a pacted devil.” Caleb mutters forced into a seat by the fiend.

  “Of course, I listen to your orders when given, but otherwise I can do what I please.”

  “And yet this place has not been turned into a section of hell.”

  “Nope,” It chirps, grinning at him. “It would be the abyss if I did.”

  It vanishes then, leaving Caleb to digest that tidbit of information. If this being is from the abyss then it is not bound by the laws of the hells. This situation just got much more precarious for them. How will he get himself and Nott out of trouble this time? He's torn from his thoughts when a screech comes from the bedroom. Leaping to his feet, Caleb bolts into the room to find a startled Nott pointing a crossbow at the demon. 

  “Caleb! It stabbed me-”

  “Poked you,” It corrects her and Caleb sighs. Getting these two to get along is going to be a tiresome ordeal.

  “Just get up goblin girl,” It puffs up and flicks a forked tongue at her. “I made breakfast and it's going cold!” It vanishes again, short range teleportation is definitely it's prefered method of transportation.

  “Caleb! It changed everything!” Nott scrambles for him checking for any hint of injuries. 

  “Ja, I noticed.” Caleb corrals his worrying friend to the table. There Nott eyes the happily eating demon. She pulls out vials and starts prodding the lukewarm breakfast. 

  “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn't have used poison.” It chirps around a mouthful of food. Nott hisses testing both their plates anyways. She seems surprised albeit grumpy about the results showing a lack of poisons. 

  “It's safe for now,” Nott whispers, climbing into her seat. Caleb takes the third chair, sliding it closer to Nott, and begins to eat. Should he mention that the demon likely couldn't poison food meant for him? Probably, but Nott wouldn't have risked it even if he had. 

  “Perfect,” It purrs, licking its lips. “Now while you two eat I'll get a bath ready.”

  Caleb stiffens at the sound of a bath and Nott freezes, “Nein.”

  “What?” It blinks at them owlishly, all its snakes turning to look at him. Several eyes staring at him, unblinking is proving deeply unsettling. Especially since it does and can blink and is clearly choosing not to at times.

  “It's planning to drown us Caleb!” Nott screams, throwing herself off the chair. 

  “We do not need to bathe.”

  “Oh yes you do,” It hisses up genuinely upset for the first time.

  “Nein.”

  “With all do you respect you smell, awfully, and trotting around like that will ruin all my hardwork.”

  “Nein,” Caleb raises his voice, gripping his fork harder.

  “If you don't bathe how am I supposed to repair that coat? It's falling apart at the seams.”

  “I like my coat how it is.”

  It puffs up its cheeks, tail whipping in frustration, “Fine. I wont change it, but for the love of whatever deity you pray to. Let me sew the poor thing up. It looks like it'll disintegrate if a soft breeze hits you!” 

  They glare at one another neither willing to back down. It isn't until a clawed hand softly tugs at his coat that their stalemate breaks. Caleb looks down at the big yellow eyes looking up at him. 

  “I'll watch it Caleb,” Nott whispers to him. “But your coat is looking bad.”

  That plucks at something inside of him and Caleb swallows. Focusing back on the creature opposite of him, Caleb nods.

  “Fine, but you will not tamper with its appearance.” He forces some arcane energy into his words. It shudders as the order is enforced by the pact. 

  “Very well,” It stands up and wanders to the other door Caleb had not investigated. “I'll prepare your bathe for now.” 

  It's infuriatingly giddy having won this argument with Caleb, trotting off to the bathroom. Has it already tampered with the interior of that room or is that exactly what it intends to do now? Caleb is left to wonder as he finished the admittingly delicious breakfast. This demon may very well be the end of him.

~•~

  “He said not to tamper,” The demon mumbles holding the ruined coat in her clawed hands.

  “And so you better not!” The goblin threatens him and it snorts.

  “I'm just worried if I wash it itll fall apart, it's so well used,” She bites her lip in thought. “Maybe a reinforcement spell just to make sure it doesn't rip apart while cleaning? That doesn't count as tampering.”

  “If you cast a spell on it, it's absolutely tampering!” The goblin debates her and she puffs up.

  “I am going to remove it after! Think of it as safety gloves you'd put on before interacting with something dangerous. I'll put the spell around it so I can clean it without worry and then take it off when it's done!” She waits for the goblin's reaction, she's going to do it anyways, but it would be best if the goblin worked with him not against him. She's sitting in her chair still crossed armed and watching his every move. Her big ears pin back as she internally debates on whether or not to agree with its reasoning. 

  “Caleb would be very upset if his coat got ruined,” Nott croaks out her reluctant agreement. Beaming, the demon easily weaves the protection spell around its master’s tattered coat, and summons a wash bin to work on cleaning the garment. It's going to take some muscle, so it diligently sets to work with conjured soap and a wash rack. He slaves away cleaning the ginger's clothes, humming a tune.

  “Why don't you join him?”

  “And leave you with his stuff?!”

  It snorts at her indigent tone, “I'm bound by a pact now. I couldn't harm him or his things if I wanted to little girl. Besides, considering how much he resisted bathing. I'm not entirely sure he's taking good care of himself in there.”

  That seems to startle the goblin who rapidly glances between him and the washroom door. Her concern adds credit to his assumption that his master isn't a man fond of self-care. What kind of mortal is hiding under all that grime? He seems promising as he isn't afraid of a demon he, accidentally, summoned or be startled by the pact sigils. This goblin's fierce loyalty to him is also an interesting tidbit. They're usually a treacherous lot without a decent bone in their bodies if her past experiences are anything to go by. Yet here is a goblin, an easily startled one no less, ready to fight a demon for a human man. Yes, they're an interesting pair. 

  “You-” The girl speaks up, trying her damndest to sound authoritative, “-You better not do anything to my boy's things! I'll know if you did.” She waves her crossbow at him and scampers off. Disappearing into the washroom where the man has been soaking, and hopefully, bathing. 

  Once that door clicks shut the demon lets out a rumbling purr, mortals are so easy sometimes. Left to their own devices, they begin whispering incantations and weaving them subtly into the fabric. While it did promise to remove the protection after washing; She never promised that she wouldn't weave longevity enchantments into it! While they're sure that man can be charismatic when he wishes, they've certainly fallen victim to his quiet confidence, a few charm enchantments wouldn't hurt him! Perhaps getting some extra positive attention will encourage that man to preen more often? If it would spare his poor hypersensitive nose from the stench of rot it's worth a shot.

  While the demon works arcane and thread with practiced ease Caleb feels his skin rub raw. Nott has been sweet enough to clean his back while he manages the rest. She sits on the rim on the massive tub that certainly didn't exist last night. Worse, it's magical in nature, the water remaining warm no matter how much time passes, and it never dirties even with how much grime peels off of Caleb. His body and hair feel unusually light with only soap suds and water weighing him down. There's even a broad selection of toiletries lining the shelves, another of the demon's doings, including beard oil for him seeing as it has no facial hair. 

  “Do you want to bathe at all Nott?”

  “I don't need in!” Nott is quick to refute his quiet offer.

  “Nein, not like that. I can use a wet rag and let you soak your feet. I do not wish to be the only one pampered mein freund, it would be uncomfortable.” Caleb confesses which gives her pause. 

  “Alright, I suppose that wouldn't be so bad.” Nott gives into his request and Caleb turns to face her. Grabbing a washcloth he thoroughly soaks it and lathers the cloth with soap. Nott, now with her feet in the water and bare, twitches her gaze flicking between him and the water. 

  “I will be quick,” Caleb reassures her following through with his promise. He is very careful wetting her hair just enough for the shampoo and conditioner to work. While that sits he is careful to help her clean up; her skin brightens two shades of green once Caleb removes most of the grime, and he's muttering praise and assurances as he washes out her hair. 

  “Dankè Nott, you are very brave to do this for me.”

  “Of course Caleb! If this has any bad side effects I wouldn't want you to suffer alone.” 

  Caleb chuckles at her protective behavior and rinses himself off, finally finished, he rises from the hot tub. Stepping out, they dry off and search for their clothes only to discover they've vanished. 

  “Scheisse,” Caleb hisses while they wrap towels around themselves.

  “This demon is a pervert Caleb!” Nott complains as she hugs a tiny towel to herself. 

  “Ja, it would seem so.” Seeing as they can't hide in the bathroom all day the duo collect themselves then slip into the living room. The demon is putting away a sewing kit after finishing its work. It perks up seeing them and points to a pile of fresh clothes with a grin on its face. There's Caleb's coat with something else folded on top, and Nott's clothes are lying there freshly washed and patched. 

  “I thought you only asked to fix my coat,” Caleb scolds even as he scoops up the pile of linen. 

  “Well it would be pointless to bathe if you just hop right back into spoiled clothes!” It beams wiggling fingers at them as Caleb and Nott disappear into the bedroom. They unfold their laundry to discover newly mended threads. Caleb's filthy brown shirt has been traded for a fresh, white long sleeve and his pants are in such good condition he's unsure if they were swapped for new ones. He notes a distinct lack of undergarments as he slips on his coat, nothing visibly has changed besides cleanliness, but there's a weight to it that makes it feel sturdier and a lingering wisp of weave that makes his hair stand on end. What did that demon cast on his coat? His scarf is just as bad feeling familiar against his chin, but there's that same arcane remnant coming off of it.

  “Nott did the demon do anything to my clothing?”

  “Uh nothing permanent!” Nott scrambles to explain what happened, gesturing wildly. “It kinda put a protection spell on your stuff cause it was gonna fall apart if it was too rough.”

  “I see,” Caleb ponders if that really could leave such an imprint as he and Nott step out into the main room. There the demon is lounging looking like a satisfied cat with a purring, pleased Frumpkin flopped in its lap.

  “It appears we're going to be stuck together for some time,” It purrs, watching them ever unblinking, “May I have the pleasure of knowing your names?”

  “Bren!” Nott declares and Caleb stiffens feeling his chest clench. Why of all the names did she panic and pick that one? He can't even lie since Nott has shouted his name so often. He thinks back, was he just as careless saying Nott’s name around this fiend, no. He does not believe he has said her name as of yet.

  It stares at him, waiting, “Wulf.” 

  Its grin widens unnaturally at the blatant, “Wulf and Bren, lovely pair you seem to be.”

  Teleporting Frumpkin to the table it swings to its hooves, standing just to drop into a dramatic bow. Nearly folding in half with how far forward it bends in mock courtesy. 

  “I am Mollymauk, a greater demon of pride,” It rises and cocks its head, “and now your loyal servant, Master .” 

Chapter Text

  “Are you sure you're strong enough to do that?” Mollymauk questions while watching his master dirty his brand new clothes picking weeds. Attempting to at least, his master has been battling with one particular plant for a while. 

  “Ja, all weeds are stubborn.” He answers, pausing in his efforts to wipe away sweat, smearing dirt on his face as a result.

  “But it needs to be done.”

  “Why? Didn't you want to keep this place decrepit?” 

  “Nein, I did not want it frivolous, that is far different than wanting it to remain decrepit. Besides, Bren likes to work with alchemy.” 

  “So you need to grow herbs for that?” Mollymauk questions in that same chipper tone. Caleb can't tell if they're being genuinely curious or mocking, and frankly, he couldn't care less. So he hopes to bore it by being completely genuine, detailed, and factual in his answers. 

  “Ja, she wants to grow the basic herbs chamomile, mint, dandelion, poppy, and milk thistle.” Caleb lists what she told him and starts to describe their purposes. By the time he finishes explaining his hands and knees are caked with dirt, palms split with several stinging cuts, and a small plot next to the hut is freshly turned without a hint of weeds or their roots. Caleb licks his chapped lips feeling the nip of bodily needs at his stomach, it takes effort to get off the ground, and he has to wait for his legs to re-adjust to holding him. While waiting for his blood to circulate properly again, Caleb goes down his mental checklist. After weeding he should toss the scraps in a specific area to use for compost, clean up his hands, and do laundry before he takes a break. 

  “Here,” Mollymauk offers a flask to him that it hadn't had before, “I was wondering how long until you decided to take a drink. I'll conjure some food for you once we're inside.”

  “I am fine,” Caleb tries to side step Mollymauk only for it to easily steps in his way.

  “You've been outside in summer for hours without a drop of water or food,” It beams at him showing off pearly white fangs, “I've seen mortals tortured with that before in the abyss.” 

  Mollymauk waits for Caleb to take the flask and for a moment he considers doing it. There's a sour feeling that makes itself known as he pushes that thought away. Shaking his head, Caleb side steps again in another attempt to ignore the fiend. Mollymauk dances its way back in front of him without blinking.

  “The lord of gnolls is particularly fond of dropping mortals in his endless planes of dust and bone to starve and kill one another for survival. I've seen some so desperate for hydration they'll kill and drink the blood of others for a hint of relief. Would you rather I kill the goblin girl so you can drink her blood?” 

  Caleb's world screeches to a halt at the morbid question being asked in such a chipper tone. He searches the fiend’s expression for any hint that this might be a bluff. Instead of a scheming narrowed gaze or pinned back ears with a playful smirk, Mollymuak is the perfect picture of genuine intention. It's smiling softly with perked ears without a hint of malice in its expression. Taking a shuddering breath, Caleb takes the flask from Mollymauk forcing himself to take a drink. Almost worse than acquiescing to the veiled threat is that Caleb finds himself chugging the water as if it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. 

  “There we go, no fainting for you.” Mollymauk chuckles while walking toward one of the trees nearby. It taps at the trunk seemingly searching for something and finding it, Caleb feels a pulse of arcane that makes him stiffen. He nearly chokes as the demon uses its powers to encourage flowers to bloom among the leaves that then transform into apples. They're bright red skin practically shimmers with magical energy as a result of their escalated growth.

  “Fond of these?” Mollymauk asks and scales the tree with practiced ease. If it weren't for the peacock plumage and snakes, she could easily be mistaken for a particularly athletic tiefling. Caleb watches as it plucks a near perfect apple and bites into the flesh with a hum. One cheek puffs up while it chews considering the taste, its tail curls and flicks in the air. It seems pleased with the result of its magic.

  “Are you checking if you're fond of these or not?” Caleb wanders closer, its tail spade level with his eyes. He can't help watching the appendage flick to a fro like a playful kitten.

  “Haven't had them before.” Mollymauk confesses,

  “Truly? Would you not have had them while with other masters out of curiosity?”

  It laughs at Caleb's question, “I think you have a very different idea of what being a demon is like my dear.”

  Their discussion is brought to an abrupt end as a familiar voice shouts ‘Wulf’ and Nott reappears. Her arms full of sticks and mushrooms that she foraged from gods knows where. She skids to a stop when she doesn't spot the fiend immediately. Her ears perking when there's another crunch and she looks up, spotting Mollymauk in its perch. Chewing away at another chunk of apple while looking down on the pair.

  “What are you doing up there?”

  “Trying to convince my lovely Master to at least eat an apple,” Mollymauk chirps, plucking another fruit, “He's been working for hours and is being stubborn about eating.” 

  Nott sputters giving Caleb a narrowed look, “Is this true?”

  His cheeks burn at the question knowing that it’s absolute truth and Nott will not be pleased to hear that. She doesn't even need to hear it based on how her expression falls. Mollymauk chuckles, dropping an apple that Nott catches despite having her arms full. She sneers up at Mollymauk who beams back down at her. 

  “Letting you check for poisons dear.” It sing-songs at her, swinging its hooves. Despite its mocking she does exactly that, putting her hard earned loot down to pull out her miniscule alchemy kit. She mutters a few things while messing with several vials of liquids that Caleb wouldn't dare prod at lest they explode.

  “Now, where do you plan to get seeds from? I could conjure them,” Mollymauk interrupts itself with a chuckle, “But Bren probably wouldn't trust anything that came from my magic.” 

  “Nein, she would not.” Caleb agrees, refusing to admit out loud he didn't know the answer,

  “I know how to harvest them from existing plants.” Nott answers which is a relief,

  “Ah, how lovely,” Mollymauk purrs, taking another bite from its chosen treat.

  “It's safe,” Nott announces and tosses Caleb the thoroughly tested apple. He barely catches it, fumbling at first with Mollymauk’s flask in one hand, but he recovers and takes a bite. His mouth explodes with fresh, fruitful flavor that is better than any other apple he's tasted. It's not a proper meal, but it smoothes out the painful edge of his hunger for now.

  “In that case,” Mollymauk rolls off the branch and lands on its hooves with all the grace of a feline. “I'm going to make lunch. Come test it when I'm finished.” 

  Leaving them on their own Mollymauk disappears into the home with a skip in its step. Caleb watches the door click shut while munching on his apple. Nott snorts changing focus back to Caleb and her collection of scavenged goods. She scoops everything back up and trots over to his feet, showing off her loot.

  “Have you had a good day Caleb?” Nott whispers,

  “Ja,” Caleb smiles to ease her anxiety. “I pulled most of the weeds out for you, schatz.”

  “Already? Thank you Caleb!” She gives him a toothy grin and he returns it with a smile. 

  “Did that fiend help at all or did it watch while you did all the work?” Nott pouts eyeing the hut with open aggression. His heart skips a beat as he flusters from her affection and embarrassment. 

  “I told it not to,” Caleb confesses, pausing to drink from the flask, “Mollymauk made sure that I did not faint and stayed hydrated.” Caleb can't help staring at the flask the fiend foisted on him. He even gives it a shake sloshing the contents. Has the water content decreased at all, or does this flask hold more than it seems it would?

  “That's good.” She eyes the flask in his hand, suspicious.

  “Did you check that for poison?”

  “Ja, I did.” Caleb fibs,

  While it leaves a sour taste in his mouth Caleb accepts that his lie is necessary. Nott would freak out if he told her the truth about what happened. She brightens at his lie too, patting his leg with a proud glow that has guilt chewing at Caleb. It's only a white lie yet Caleb feels his heart sink into his stomach. How many times will he have to lie and omit the truth while Mollymauk is bound to them? Balancing the truth and lies between these two will be the death of him. Caleb laments his situation while following Nott around the plot. Mindlessly helping her set up whatever she needs and listening to her eagerly chatter.

  Eventually the sun sets, putting an end to their outside busy work. Thanks to his companion and Nott, Caleb is forced to settle in the bedroom with Nott asleep at his feet. He should be napping beside as well, but his eyes refuse to close. Both of them are comfortable and full for the first time in so long it feels like a foreign concept. He's consumed by thought and worries that gnaw at him, comfort chews at his nerves. He's anything but restful despite the afternoon temperature being perfect, his bed plenty soft, and Nott's softly snoring just close enough her body heat is seeping into his legs. 

  Caleb can't sleep like this, so he gives up, slipping off the bed he sneaks into the underground alcove. He begins his investigation of the space in a way he hadn't bothered to before due to caution and panic. There's little harm to be caused now that Mollymauk has already been summoned. The worst that could happen already has.

  Navigating through the dark isn't something Caleb wishes to attempt, so with a quick gesture and quiet zemnian casting he brings several orbs of light into existence. Their glow overtakes the dim lit lantern hanging from the corridor wall, and Caleb takes full advantage of that fact for exploring. He picks one of the discarded books to flick through it, hoping its contents will give his anxious mind something to focus on. Unfortunately for him the pages are blank providing no stimulation for his racing thoughts. Whatever records that had been written must have faded away with time and poor storage.

  “What has my master distressed so late in the night?” 

  Caleb startles, spinning to find Mollymauk is sitting on one of the desks, watching him. Her eyes glowing bright in the dark, unblinking.

  “I was trying to find something to read.” Caleb confesses, closing the empty journal. Where would this have belonged before being discarded? 

  “Oh?” It slips off the desk to trot over to Caleb, “It does hum a bit.” 

  “Hum?” Caleb questions as his curiosity takes over his sense.

  He doesn't resist as Mollymauk takes the tome from him and lays its palm on the cover. On the back of its clawed hand a red eye opens, glowing with a surge of arcane energy. This reveals a thin weave of magic shrink wrapped around the tome. It grins, taking a claw, it drags a fingertip down the front of the tome. Delicately severing open the thin weave that encases the book. Masterful spellwork unravels before Caleb's eyes returning to the larger network of magic around them. How could he not sense the presence of an enchantment until the spell fell apart at Mollymauk’s hands?

  “There we are,” Mollymauk chuckles, flicking open the tome to reveal pages covered in runes, diagrams, and hurriedly written text in common.

  “An illusory script?” Caleb brightens amused by the cheeky enchantment. Such a simple spell amplified to masterfully keep secrets that would stop any other nosey wizards! Caleb takes the book back to examine its contents with a giddiness to his movements that makes Mollymauk smile. 

  “Ah, this must have been their personal spellbook.” Caleb mutters flicking through the pages.

  “Those things mortals need to cast?”

  “Ja, wizards at least.” Caleb takes note of the large amount of conjuration spells in this tome, “You can learn a lot about a spellcaster based on their spellbooks. This particular mage specialized in conjuration and doubled in herbology as a focus. They appear to be self-taught because they don't use many technical terms. Though they did write everything in sylvan, another measure against snoopers perhaps? Most of their spells were for practicality not combat or showmanship.”

  Mollymauk listens and watches his master light up like a star in the night sky while rambling about mortal magic. He dives into technical terms that barely make any sense to her, and he goes on about focus, components, and something about the science of wielding the weave. None of the details register to Mollymauk besides how lovely his master’s voice is. Do mortals truly have to go through all this effort and master all these senseless techniques to wield magic?

  “You are grinning.” Caleb's statement snaps Mollymauk from her stupor,

  “You mortals find the oddest ways to do what you want.”

  “You think the study of magic is odd?”

  “From my point of view.” Mollymauk shrugs, picking another tome and undoing its arcane protections.

  “I am a creature weaved from magic itself after all. The ability to use magic is inherent to me. It's so natural to me that the concept of someone having to study magic and not just feel the hum of it in their veins is- baffling.” Mollymauk laughs giving Caleb the newly revealed tome so he may scour its contents. He takes it, slipping it under the first book as he's more focused on something other than reading. Does Caleb know he sucks his lip whenever he's considering what to do or focused on a task? 

  “How does it feel?”

  “Be more specific dear,” Mollymauk playfully chides her master, “How does it feel when I'm surrounded by the natural magic of the planes? How does it feel while casting? How does the pact magic feel when you give me an order? It's all slightly different.” 

  Mollymauk watches her master glow with her every word stoking the flames of his excitement. His master may not have summoned him intentionally, but its clear he does fall into the same group that would do such a thing. It's a shame she can't offer him arcane secrets beyond this as that's not the kind of demon she is. Caleb is happy, excited for the first time since her summoning, and Mollymauk feels that warmth pulse through her. 

  “The pact bond,” Caleb fixates on that of all things. “It burns whenever I give an order, it itches while it's just there. Is it the same for you?” 

  “Not quite,” Mollymauk waves banishing her dress while keeping her corset. Her pact mark glows, framed by her pubic hair and hem of her corset.

  “It's a fragment of myself that's been twisted to serve a new purpose. Some of my power is completely committed to enforcing that pact. My goal is to please you so it's constantly changing,” Mollymauk traces the fire like patterns across her stomach. “When you're displeased it stings and screams like a stab wound. When you're happy it's a light, pleasant feeling, ticklish really.” 

  Mollymauk pauses when she glances up and sees her master has gone pale, seemingly horrified. Her brows go up as his shaking hands clutch at the books in his arms. She feels the warmth she had relished in moments before morphing into something horrible. It would seem she misstepped in this discussion of magic and emotion, but for the life of her she can't figure out how. Sometimes mortals prove themselves even more fickle in nature than the mischievous spirits and demons they fear. She sighs, using a familiar gesture to will the weave to manifest into clothes onto her skin. She forgoes her dress in favor of high waisted tights that cling to her curves, split down the middle with different patterns. 

  Now decent by mortal standards Mollymauk changes focus, “It feels like I stomped on your toes. Was my description unpleasant?”

  “N- Nein!” Mollymauk feels her master’s anxiety spike which manifests as a stabbing pain in her gut. She feels a rusted knife twisting in her womb growing worse with each second. It winces, schooling its expression best it can. 

  “Master, if there is something I can do to ease your anxiety. Do tell. This is growing incredibly painful awfully quick.” Mollymauk tries not to clench its teeth from the pain. It had just gotten him content a while ago, and had grown used to the constant stinging from Caleb's constant anxiety! Mollymauk can't help feeling frustrated with this turn of events. 

  “I- Scheiße! Just how much do you feel?” Caleb hisses, stammering now. 

  “Just the general emotion or rather-” Mollymauk hums and places its hands on Caleb's stomach. Utilizing her nails she applies enough pressure that he'll feel it through his shirt.

  “-If you feel something negative I feel pressure. I don't necessarily know your exact emotions. I just feel this and the worse you feel, the more of this.” Mollymauk emphasizes its words with more pressure. Her talons press into cotton and she feels what little flesh he has on his stomach give.

  “More painful though, no cotton in the way and more piercing through the flesh.” 

  “If you feel positive-” Mollymauk relieves its pressure by spreading its fingers out and beginning a gentle massaging motion, “-I get rewarded with a general pleasant feeling. More warmth, like drinking a good pint that settled in your stomach on a nice evening.”

  Caleb stays silent taking shuddering, quick breathes that won't be filling his lungs with as much air as he needs. Its explanation at least does something for his nerves. He is pale, anxiety ridden but no longer trembling. Mollymauk steps forward guiding its master back until he collapses into the seat. Sighing, it steps back conjuring a bottle of wine and a glass.

  “If you're worried about secrets or otherwise you needn't be. That's the extent of what I am told by our pact. It's supposed to help encourage me to make you happy.” 

  “Why?” 

  “Why?” Mollymauk parrots, shocked by Caleb speaking up.

  “Why would your pact include something like this? Demons are a slever sort. Pacts Do not end well for anyone but them, why would you have that as a part of your contract.” Caleb is gawking at Mollymauk like it just declared that Bahmaut is a bedwetter. It shrugs at his question, pouring him a glass of crimson and offering it.

  “Master, you never thought to question what kind of demon I am. Have you?” It smiles as he takes the glass even as he refuses to indulge in the drink. Mollymauk doesn't bother conjuring another glass, it snatches the whole bottle. Caleb watches as it drinks as it pleases, taking several gulps before pulling off the bottle with a sigh.

  “A demon of pride, you said so yourself.”

  “Yes, but what business does a mage living in a hovel have with a demon of pride? Why not a demon of forbidden secrets? Why not a fiend that deals in magic relics? Why pride?” 

  Caleb purses his lips with thought scanning their surroundings. This mage was a clever sort using minor spells to great effect, hiding their magical machinations behind a practical hidden wall that other mages wouldn't bother to suspect, and summoning a demon with a binding pact already in place. What does someone so versed in magic need with a demon that can't further those abilities? Caleb stares up at the ceiling noting a lack of anymore bats. Why was there a bat in here anyways?

  “Oh, he's thinking.” Mollymauk teases watching Caleb earnestly try to piece the puzzle together.

  “Lets try this,” Mollymauk pushes away from the desk and trots over to a wall. “What mortal would have all this power and knowledge yet live in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, instead?”

  Caleb watches Mollymauk circle the large chamber with a nagging feeling in his gut. His eyes slide back to the first book and he snatches it up. He reads the contents of their spellbook again searching for the final hint. There is something hiding here and the demon is refusing to tell him.

  ‘Or perhaps it can't tell him?’ Another voice nags and Caleb considers it. 

  He's on his feet, his globes of light swirling around to light up the summon circle. His eyes narrow as he studies the circle with far more intense focus. He finds all the correct runes for conjuration painted in dried ichor. Squinting he gets on his knees, willing his lights to shift and change the angle of their shine, and the ground lights up just right to reveal disturbed dirt underneath. He traces the disturbances, his eyes widening upon discovering a second rune carved into the ground. He backtracks, checking every single rune and discovering a second spell underneath the first. 

  "Das ist erstaunlich, It's a find familiar spell.” Caleb breathes in awe of the work of magic on display. Mollymauk giggles and his gaze snaps to it then back down.

  “You are bound as a familiar?”

  “Makes Frumpkin and I birds of a feather doesn't it?” Mollymauk cooes and its words are responded with a soft meow. As if summoned, perhaps he literally was, Frumpkin trots into existence and twines around Mollymauk’s hooves. He rumbles with joy scenting the demon's hooves, claiming it. 

  “They wanted a powerful demon as a familiar then, but why pride?” Caleb stands and bites his lip fixated on solving this mystery.

  “Demonology not your specialty?” Mollymauk teases and saunters over to a forgotten bookcase. It plucks another tome, slicing the spellweave from it and putting it aside. It takes another and another unlocking each tome while humming a senseless tune. Caleb jumps up racing over to the increasing collection with sparkling eyes. 

  “Bound to be more hints in one of these.” Mollymauk sings, its smile growing as Caleb drags the chair over. He drops into it and snatches up a book, flicking through the pages.

  “You'll miss them if you just skim.” It teases and Caleb shakes his head absentmindedly.

  “Nein, I am a quick reader and have perfect memory. These are big enough that I can get most of it within ten minutes. I can review another time.” Caleb mumbles more focused on his studies. 

  Mollymauk lets out an intrigued chirp handing him another book. The pain in its gut has soothed, turning into a pleasant warmth that makes it sleepy and content. Mollymauk notes that if its master gets too anxious a puzzle or book may put them both out of their misery. Frumpkin joins in their happy atmosphere, jumping into Caleb's lap and curling up there for a nap. Mollymauk grins at the sight as Caleb begins to pet Frumpkin without even glancing at the cat. Accepting that sleep will not come until Caleb's body gives out Mollymauk sits on the desk dutifully breaking enchantments. There are worse ways to waste the night when sleeps evades them at least.