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Chapter Text

“Stolas. Welcome son, take a seat”, Paimon says as he spins a gilded wine glass. Stolas, no more than sixteen years old, still a child in his Goetic years, straightens his black breast coat and pushes down the cowlicks in his feathers as he sits across the table.
“To what do I owe this...dinner with you, father?”, he asks, looking down at only the finest meal he’s had in weeks. Though his appetite is rather shot when his father is around. Paimon waits for Stolas to start eating, just staring. Stolas looks at the imps serving drinks and food for any kind of cue and they shrug, then gesture to his plate. He sighs and nods, picking up the fork and starting to eat the cured rat.

“Well, I believe it is time to speak with you about what you have been up to as of late”, Paimon explains, crossing his arms. Stolas nearly chokes and puts his fork down, scratching the plate.
“I don’t know what you mean, Father”, he lies with practiced precision. Paimon’s eyes flare red a moment and Stolas’s chair slides around the table, closer to him. Stolas squeezes the sides of the lush cushion, all four eyes wide as he tries to look away.
“Tch, I thought you better than that, son”, he grabs Stolas’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes, “Now what have you been up to when you leave the palace on your own?”

Stolas’s arms and hands shake with anxiety. He could just tell him the truth. There’s a prophecy he can’t see fully. And his Grimoire is giving no answers. Neither are the stars. But then he will want to know who the prophecy is about. And he isn’t supposed to have crushes. He has to lie some more.
“Father, I’m merely broadening my horizons and reading material. I like to read fiction in my off time-and you’re aware of the limited availability for that in the Goetian libraries”, his voice is still shaky. Though it always is when he talks to his father.

Paimon releases his chin, “Hm. Fiction? Not really related to your studies. But I suppose a boy needs hobbies. I wish you were more social, son. Came to more balls. I am sure Stella would love-”, he starts as Stolas shoves the rest of his food as fast as he can into his mouth, filling his cheeks.

“Yes father I am sure you would love to show me off as your hundredth or thousandth son at every ball or something or other but I am very busy you see, and-”, he answers. Paimon cocks an eyebrow, “The balls aren’t for us older folks, they are for you, son. And your bride to be”.
Stolas snickers, “And why do we need balls when we are already betrothed against our will?” he asks.

Paimon gives him a glare and claps for a servant to pull away their plates.
“You know why. Social gatherings are part of the station, son. You must have many more when you’re older”, he explains but Stolas rolls two of his eyes and leans on his folded arms.
“She is there every time there is a ball, Stolas. And you disgrace her by not showing up”, he narrows his eyes and Stolas looks away toward an imp, mouthing, ‘get me out of here’. The imp shakes his head and points behind him.

Stolas turns to see Paimon with his arms crossed again, a stern look now on his face.
“Books can’t replace real life, son. You should be smart enough to know that”. “Of course I know that”, Stolas shoots back, “I just like to be prepared for every situation”. Paimon stands up and starts walking away, his imps following behind.
“The next ball, you will be there. Or you are grounded”, he says. Stolas throws his arms out in frustration and as soon as Paimon is around a corner, flips the bird multiple times towards him. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!!” he whispers to himself. He stands up and casts from his grimoire, stepping straight into the garden from a portal.

He runs over and picks up an archery set of bow and arrows. Aiming at a target which has a very small picture of his father over the bullseye.
“Think you can dictate what I do with my time when you aren’t even fucking around. Some fucking dad”, he mutters to himself as he shoots 1, 2, 3 bullseyes in a row at the target. An imp realizes he’s in the garden and runs over to grab the arrows for him.

He looks over at the imp as he takes back the arrows, “He thinks he can just waltz in whenever the fuck he wants and just make me do something like I don’t have free will! Like I’m his little puppet that he gets to play with!”
The imp is a younger woman with short horns and keeps a neutral face, taking a professional stance next to him.
“What do you think of my father? Hm? Go on, your honest opinion”, he asks the imp. She shifts uncomfortably, “That would be against my contract, sir”. Stolas huffs, “No one can be genuine around here. Hells. Fine, I’m not in the mood anymore”. He hangs the bow back on the wall and starts walking back to his room. The floor loudly clacking from his talons in dark hallways lit only by magical candlelight. It would be mesmerizing if it wasn’t so lonely.

Entering his room, you would expect to see something grand and lavish, like the rest of the home. But it’s more of a creature comfort cave than anything. The overall pallet of the room a purple, gray, and black. With the four poster bed unmade and untouched. He doesn’t let the servants in anymore, except on rare occasions. His personal library slowly grown over the years but the books are unorganized, and some are strewn about the floor. The room would be downright boring and unassuming if it didn’t also have a whole tent setup over the bed. Instead of a canopy, Stolas set up the fabric in a tent formation. Giving his bed a closer and hug-like interior. It has kept him comfort in a home with so little of that concept. It also gives him the ability to act out his own stories with shadow puppets and candles, and a comfortable study of his grimoire at late hour nights.

He angrily pulls off his coat and gets into more comfortable night clothes, wrapping up in one of his favorite knitted blankets. He takes a deep breath and grabs a novella, crawling into the middle of his bed and bundling up pillows to cradle his lanky knees. Only getting through one chapter before his current dilemma creeps up in his mind again. A week ago he had a dream. He’s had prophetic dreams before, but they always have a connection in the stars. He can see their future and their branches of fate. Except for this one.

When he was younger, he had a play date with a young imp named Blitzo. They played all day and he was practically his first friend until the end of the day. When his father saw that they had been burgled.

“This is why those vermin can’t be trusted”, he had said. Stolas, a small ten years old, couldn’t believe it. He had to have a good reason. But he never saw him again. Until in his dreams a week ago. He saw a fire, a circus, and the Blitzo he once knew, now older and frantically looking for someone. Stolas had woken up in a sweat, frantic that it was happening now. Checking the local library, there was a Buckzo Circus based in Pride. But he hasn’t yet had the confidence to go there. What if he wouldn’t remember him? What if he wanted to hurt him? He didn’t know this boy anymore. If he ever did. Searching the stars the next day came up with no answers. No clear paths, and no details. He needed to figure it out.

He walks into the bathroom and sighs, running his hands down his head feathers.
“If I don’t know you, why do I want to?” he questions, looking at himself in the mirror. Hugging himself, he wonders more about the imp, unable to stop thinking about him. The vision showed him now this acrobatic, fit, and handsomely rugged face and large horns. Just thinking about him gives Stolas fluttering feelings in his chest, his feathers ruffling.

...What if he saw his death? He has to figure out more. But he probably won’t find anything else in a library. He has to go to the source.

Chapter Text

Stolas grabs his overcoat and pulls up the collar, stepping out into the crisp fall air of Pride. He opens the door to his coach when Pringles, his personal butler pulls on his coat. He spins around,
“Oh, it’s you. Can I help you?” he looks down to the imp. Pringles, the small imp with his groomed white hair and short horns, looks up at him, “What shall I tell the master of where you are going, if he asks of course”. Stolas fiddles with his fingers and moves to sit in the seat, “Just tell him I went to see a show. I’ll be back this evening”. Pringles nods, “Of course, sire”. Stolas nods and closes the door, signaling the coach driver to start the ride.

During the ride, he pulls out his grimoire one last time and searches about imps and their prophecies. Due to his proximity to them, he’s seen many prophecies about his servants. Those are mostly the only imps he typically has contact with. He was aware of one lord he went to school with who was part imp, but he left the academy soon after being shunned by the other students. Stolas doesn’t typically care whether someone is an imp, he knows they are on the lower status in hell. He is aware of the power structures. He tries to treat everyone with respect. Though he knows he’s taken advantage of their help more often than not.

The grimoire says more of nothing. Just excerpts of why imps’ prophecies are typically inexplicably tied to their ‘reckless’ actions and their ‘wild’ nature. He’s starting to think that his grimoire itself might have racial bias. Imagine that. He sighs and closes it, tucking it in a portal that leads to his bedside.

When he was a student among the Goetian academy and not doing his self study, he was a very quick learner. He engaged in debates and often won them. Though his social skills were always lacking. There were only a few he spoke to, and even fewer that he would work with or trust. From an early time, Andrealphus tried to get on Stolas’s good side as he was to be betrothed to his sister, though Stolas found him too charismatic and egotistic for his taste. And largely ignored both him and Stella. In fact, his only dealings with Stella up to this point have been required meetings for tea set up by his father. If he could never be around her, he would choose so.

The imp coach driver shouts to Stolas that they have arrived. He straightens his coat and steps out into a dirt lot where orange leaves from nearby trees are struck up by the wind and blow around his long legs. He tells the coach to wait in the parking lot and steps onto the lot fully. There are circus style red and white tents far as he can see to the fence at least.
He has no idea where to even start to look for Blitzo. He stops for a moment and closes his eyes, hoping maybe his vision will direct him psychically. But there’s nothing. Not being able to see at least something is starting to make him uneasy. A barker at a table near the front hands him a ticket, and asks for ten greed bucks. Ten for a circus? Sounds like a ripoff but Stolas gives it. He frowns as he grabs the ticket and continues looking around as he walks in. The multiple tents he now notices have a multitude of carnival games. Ones he knows from his youth as ripoffs as well. For how much these places take advantage of your money, he’s surprised it’s been in business this long. He wonders if Blitzo is this sleazy too.

He meanders toward the tallest tent. Having been pointed that direction for the show. Unsure where to find him outside of the show, he guesses he has to actually see the show, then follow him after. He gives his ticket to the usher at the front of the tent, a teenage imp girl with a punkish vest and jean skirt on and high boots. She looks strikingly similar to Blitzo that he blinks for a moment but then realizes the horns are different and moves on to find his seat. He distinctly sits away from the Goetian section, not wanting to draw untoward attention. Though sitting in the commoner’s section seems to do the same. The imp families that take a seat near him still keep a wide berth, even though he comments that a kid and his father can sit in front of him. They shake their heads and insist to sit somewhere else.

Stolas looks down, unsure what else to say to put these imps at ease. But he doesn’t have too long to think until the lights go down. The show starts with an older middle aged imp stepping out in a full clown getup, engaging the audience in some ad lib. Then out come the horses and other animals. Followed by knife throwing and other clown shenanigans. He sees the girl imp usher again, this time on the balance beam and tightrope. Impressively balancing all the way across with some flips to boot. He claps and smiles toward her. She flips him a bird. Classy.

He starts to worry that Blitzo has moved on from the circus when it comes to the end and a clown duo come out. One decked in an expensive clowning outfit with multiple colors, the other in a strictly black and white ensemble. Stolas squints his four eyes and can see the long horns and lithe body to be Blitzo. Though he’s thrown off, because he looks a little bit different from his vision. The braces being the biggest difference. Still, he becomes jittery in his seat. Wanting so badly to speak with him.

“Hey Blitzo, do you know what happened to the imp cannonball?”, the brighter clothed one says. Blitzo replies, “No, what?”
“He was fired!”, the other imp says and the crowd laughs, Stolas yawning.
Blitzo speaks up, “Good one Fizz, but have you heard the one about the runaway horse? It’s a terrible tale of WHOA!”, he says the whole joke in one line. The audience is dead silent and Blitzo blushes, stepping somewhat behind the Fizz character. Stolas giggles, Blitzo catching his eye and blinking for a moment.

Fizz laughs and continues his own jokes, to raucous applause. Blitzo tries one more but it still isn’t received. One imp, the father in the audience that insisted not to sit next to Stolas, tries to throw his popcorn. Blitzo flinches but Stolas chitters under his breath and stands up, putting his hands out and stopping it in mid air.

Oh no, why did he do that.
Everyone is staring. Some are oohing and aahing. He brings his hands down and sets the popcorn harmlessly on the ground. Fizz blinks and looks behind him to see Blitzo running out of the tent. He reaches for him, and says his name, following after. Stolas blushes and sits back down, rubbing his hands. Why did he do that?!

The show ends awkwardly, with a few imp children insisting to ask Stolas about his powers. He entertains them for one moment then excuses himself.
“I really have to go uhm...thank you”. He runs straight to the backstage of the tent. Worried that he’s missed him already.
He runs straight into a taller imp woman. Who also looks like Blitzo but in a different way. With the signature black straight horns instead. She acknowledges Stolas and stops him with her hands, “I’m sorry sir but you aren’t allowed back here”.
Stolas starts to get nervous, stuttering, “I-uh-I’m sorry I just need to speak-uhm”. The imp woman cocks her head, “Speak to someone? Speak up dear”. Stolas takes a deep breath and composes himself, just like his father taught him.
“I need to speak with Blitzo”, he says matter of factually, “If only to apologize for...stopping the popcorn”. She actually laughs, “You want to apologize for stopping something from hitting him?” Stolas shifts his talons uncomfortably, “Uh-will you just ask him if I can speak with him? Please?”
“And who might you be?” she asks, looking over him like she’s finally noticing what he looks like.
“I’m Prince Stolas. Of the Ars Goetia”, he says quietly. He was told not to flaunt his station in public. Especially if he was alone.

She doesn’t seemed phased by his title and smiles, “I’m Tilla. Blitzo’s mother. I’ll grab him”. His mother, that makes more sense. She smiles as she walks back in the tent and he hears some loud words then a thump, like someone falling out or off of a bed.

Next time she opens the tent wall, Blitzo is right there. He looks back at his mom with a look of, “What in the hell?” and she just shrugs back.

Blitzo looks Stolas up and down and narrows his eyes, “Can I help you? Sire?”

Chapter Text

Stolas’s eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost as he looks down at Blitzo. Blitzo eyeing him warily with a smirk, “Can I help you Sire?”. Stolas shakes his head, “You can just call me Stolas”. Suddenly he is at a loss for words as he tries to explain, “I uh-here because I-um. Could we talk somewhere more private?” he asks. Blitzo crosses his arms, “Why? Anything you gotta say can be said in front of my family”. Stolas shifts his foot talons uncomfortably and takes a deep breath, “Okay...I had a dream about you”.

Fizz giggles, “What?!” and Barbie joins him in giggles. Blitzo blushes and closes the tent quickly, grabbing Stolas’s hand and pulling him behind the tent.
“What the fuck?!”, he asks, “Who the fuck are you?”
Stolas sighs, “You said to just tell you”. Blitzo grabs him by the coat collar and pulls him to his face, “Tell me who you are, creep”.
Stolas swallows, being so close to his face. His lips. He shakes his head and pushes him off, “Don’t recognize me? I’m Stolas”.
Blitzo narrows his eyes, “Stolas, Stolas...OH. Wait Stolas??” he looks him up and down again. Stolas gestures to himself, “That’s me”. Blitzo shifts now and looks back, “Am I...are you here for revenge? Cause my dad put me up to that. I didn’t want to steal from you back then”.

Stolas hoot giggles and Blitzo’s eyes widen.
“I don’t have any intent to hurt you. I promise. I just...well I see prophecies. And a week ago I-”...he hesitates and looks to Blitzo with a sad expression. Should he even tell him? Does he need him to figure this out? Would it hurt him at all to know? But Blitzo doesn’t give him time to think and hits his arm, “What?? Tell me, spit it out bird boy”, he says then closes his mouth when he realizes he just said that to a prince. Stolas takes another deep breath.
“I had a dream about you. Would you like to know it?”, he asks. Blitzo looks confused, “Uh-isn’t that why you’re here is to tell me about it?” Stolas nods, “I just wanted to make sure you wanted to know”.
Blitzo nods now, “Yeah, go ahead”.
“I had a dream that looked suspiciously similar to this lot of tents, actually. And there was a fire. It was raging through all the tents and you were there holding one eye and looking frantically for someone. There were screams all around...then it ended”.
Blitzo’s wide eyes blink, “Ah..Uh-Okay...well thanks for telling me I guess. I’ll be thinking about that in my sleep”. He says and goes to walk back when Stolas grabs his arm, “Wait. There’s more”. Blitzo looks at his hand on his arm and pulls away.
“No offense but I don’t really care?”, his mouth scowls slightly and continues walking away. Stolas frowns, “Please Blitzo? Let me finish?”. Blitzo stops and turns around, “Fine. Fine what else could there possibly be?”

Stolas fiddles with his fingers, “I-It’s my job to find prophecies. And when I have a dream it’s usually a premonition. Something that will happen in the future. But...I can’t find one. Any, about you actually. And why I had one about you in the first place is curious to me because I usually only have dreams about those I’m around. And I haven’t seen you in what...Six years?”. Blitzo nods, “So...in your stars or whatever, your psychic mumbo jumbo shit...there’s…nothing about me?”. Stolas looks to him concerned, “If there is...I can’t see it. And I can always see it”. Blitzo steps back, “Gotcha gotcha okay um..so why tell me?”

The leaves pick up in the wind again and circle around them both then settle on the dirt ground. Stolas picks up a red leaf and hands it to him, “I don’t know. But I’d like to figure it out. If you want to”.
Blitzo looks at the leaf and chuckles, “You’re weird you know that”. Stolas blinks, “Am I?” Blitzo snort laughs, “The way you don’t even know you’re weird makes it better. Pride Lion Cafe, on Sunday. I don’t have any shows that day. Around noon or something. We can talk more”. Stolas’s eyes widen, him not expecting him to actually help him.
“It’s a date”, he says nonchalantly and Blitzo looks around, “NO it’s a hangout”. Stolas rubs his neck, “Right, sorry, that’s not what I-”, he starts but Blitzo puts a hand up, “It’s fine, Birdy. I’ll see you then”. He walks away and Stolas squeaks quietly under his breath. Why is Blitzo so hot? He walks back to the lot and steps into his car, signaling the driver to head back to the palace.

Blitzo looks down at the red leaf he was given by Stolas and tucks it in his pocket. Walking back in the tent, he keeps his head down but he bumps right into Fizz.
“Have a good makeout session, Blitzo?” he teases. Blitzo blushes and covers his face, “Shut the fuck up”. Barbie jumps up from her seat, “OH you LIKE him!!”, she joins in. Blitzo punches her arm, “Shut up both of you!” He stomps over to his bed and climbs up the ladder to lay down. Thinking about what Stolas said and what it could possibly mean. He barely remembers the guy. When they were ten he found him naive but they had fun. It at least made it easy to rob him. He felt guilty for days. His resentment for Cash growing after that.

Fizz climbs up the ladder and pokes Blitzo’s leg, “Hey. You know we were just kidding right?” Blitzo nods and digs his face in his pillow.
“Do you wanna talk about what he told you?”, he asks, and Blitzo shakes his head.
“Mmkay then, come down when you want dinner”, and he climbs back down.
Blitzo doesn’t come down for dinner that night. Unable to stop thinking about what Stolas saw.

Chapter Text

Stolas paces outside of the ‘Lion Cafe’ in Pride, just as Blitzo said, around noon. He looks at his watch then at his Grimoire then at the window, slicking back his head feathers. Did he overdress? Did he under dress? Will he care? He straightens the waist coat and shakes his head out of the spiraling thoughts as he anxiously taps his foot talon on the bricks.
Looking at his watch again, he looks down past it to see Blitzo, having walked up in a T-shirt, studded leather jacket and ripped jeans that hug his knees. He’s also wearing some black cowboy boots that look like they’ve been passed down from someone that is not his size. Stolas blinks multiple times, and swears he might be drooling. He feels his beak and thankfully, he’s not.

“Hey, you waitin’ here long?”, he asks, looking up at him. Stolas opens the door and gestures inside, “Not at all! You first”. Blitzo eyes him then walks in, hands in his pockets. He grabs a table as Stolas walks in behind him, both sitting down. The waiter takes their order and puts down waters. Stolas sips his water fast and holds his head, “Ah..brain freeze”. Blitz widens his eyes and gestures, “Put your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Like this”, he demonstrates and Stolas almost chokes on the rest of the water in his throat.
“Don’t fuckin’ die, jeez”, he says as he looks around to see if anyone is watching. Then Stolas composes himself and copies what Blitz did, “Like this?” he asks in a muffled tone. Blitz laughs, and nods, “Yeah, like that”.

Fizz narrows his eyes, “What the fuck are they doing?” he looks to Barbie and she cocks an eyebrow, “No clue”.
“Maybe we should go in there…”, he starts standing but she grabs the belled collar of his outfit and pulls him back down.
“You wanna let Blitzo know that we followed him?”, she asks. Fizz sighs, “Not really but-”
Barbie smiles wide, “You’re jealous”. Fizz’s face turns even more red and he turns away, “I am NOT!”

Giggling, Barbie pulls him into an alleyway.
“Hey clown boy, don’t worry about me. I just saw you two smacking lips behind the juggling tent. What do you call that?” she puts her hands on her hips.
Fizz points, “That! Was...just some friendly bro time!” Barbie rolls her eyes, “And you expect me to believe that?” Fizz purses his lips then closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head ‘No’.
“So what happened after?” she asks, intrigued now. “Wouldn’t you know? Peeper!”, Fizz accuses.
She shrugs, “I got bored and left. So what happened? Why aren’t you dating then?”
Fizz rubs his arm, “I don’t know...he’s like...we’re kinda like…” Barbie’s eyes go wide, “Oh my satan did you BROTHER ZONE him?!” she laughs and holds her chest, doubling over.
“Why do I even tell you these things!!”, Fizz throws his hands in the air and crosses his arms, turning away from her.

She pulls him back around, “Cause I’m your best friend”. “Well Blitzo is-” She hits his arm. “Yes! You are my very best friend”, and gives her a strained smile. Narrowing her eyes, she rubs where she hit him.
“If you actually like him, I think he likes you too”, she says. Fizz peeks back at her, “How do you know that? He hates talking to you about that stuff”. She huffs, “He doesn’t have to like me to know that I’m always watching. And I see how he looks at you”.
“Like a brother?”, Fizz asks tentatively and she shakes her head, “Like someone he wants to kiss again”. Fizz’s cheeks might as well be a hot stove now as his face burns red.
“Lets...lets just forget this whole conversation!”, he covers his face and crawls back over to the window to spy on Blitzo and Stolas. She follows behind and sighs, “Whatever you want clown boy”.

Blitzo scarfs down his food and looks up at Stolas who, holding a knife and fork, is gingerly cutting a fried rat that he ordered. He squints and eye and chews the rest of the bite in his mouth.
“Do you ever have...fun?” he asks. Stolas cocks his head, “Fun? Like reading?” Blitzo laughs, “Well you didn’t change”. “And you stole from my father. I never saw you again”. Blitzo rubs his neck, “Sorry about that. I-I am sorry”. Stolas waves it off, “It’s alright, my father’s a prick”. Chuckling, Blitzo nods, “That we can agree on”.

“Does it scare you?”, Stolas asks. Blitzo puts down his fried chicken, licking his fingers. Stolas bites his tongue.
“What? Your little prophecy thing?” he asks in reply. Stolas shrugs, “That you don’t have one”.
Blitzo looks down at the ground then back up at him, “I don’t really know. I guess I never thought about my future before. It’s interesting. And Satan knows I haven’t had anything interesting happen in a while”. Stolas nods, “Okay. So you want to know why?” Blitzo shrugs, “Sure. Whatever gets me out of the house”.
“Me too. My father expects me to perform my duty and court this...girl. She’s horrid. I’d rather be anywhere than around her”. Blitzo laughs, “I didn’t think dating in the royal world would be bad”.
“It’s not really dating..I-well, it’s not important. I won’t bore you with the details”. Blitzo sighs, “I get it. Expectations, I mean. They’re hard to live up to”.

Stolas, “So, tell me more about your family. Maybe it will help jog my powers to see something”. Blitzo nods and gestures with his fried chicken bones, playing out a whole show about everyone in his family.
“And then there’s Fizzarolli who-”, he stops. Stolas blinks, looking up from his notebook where he was writing this all down.
“Are you okay?”, he asks. Blitzo takes a deep breath, “Yeah.... Uh-Fizz is like my best friend”.
“‘Like’ your best friend?”, he replies with one eyebrow raised. “He IS my best friend”, he corrects himself. Stolas nods, “Got it, spot taken”. Blitzo chuckles, “You think you can take that spot from him?” he asks. Stolas puffs his chest, “I can certainly try”, they both laugh.
“I’d like to see you try”, Blitzo whispers, leaning in. Stolas leans back, “Heh-heh yeah. I-uh”, he pulls on his own shirt collar, “Maybe”. Blitzo sits back down and waves for the check, “You got this?” he pushes the bill over. Stolas nods, “I do”. Suddenly distant, like multiple walls were put up, Blitzo gets up and pulls his jacket over his shoulder.
“Next Sunday then?” he asks. Stolas closes his notebook and puts out his hand for a handshake, “Next Sunday”. Blitzo doesn’t take his hand, and walks out of the cafe.

Chapter Text

The next week, they met again. And the next week. Talking over Blitzo’s life and who he is as a person. And the more they talk, the more Stolas leans in. He talks about himself too, a little. But the more that’s revealed about Blitzo, the more he sees of his dream. The before, of his note to Fizzarolli, the after, of the beratement from his father and his mother dying. He hasn’t told Blitzo these, because it’d be distressing to even know that this could happen to you. What if it will? What if he scares Blitzo off?
Far beyond him though to decide who gets and doesn’t get to know their fate. The next week he decides he will tell Blitzo about his new visions. And hopefully he won’t leave.

Stolas wrings his hands in anxiety as he waits for his car, the one to take him to the Lion Cafe on another blustery Sunday in Pride. The air has grown even colder as they move into winter, and Stolas is wearing a long black coat over his clothes, with a large black scarf wrapped around his neck. He gets into the car quickly and signals the driver to leave, not even noticing that Pringles the butler was trying to run over and catch him before he left.

Sitting down and waiting, Blitzo arrives a little later than normal, hurriedly almost, as he sits down and chugs the cold brew that Stolas had already preordered from him.
“Oof, thanks birdy, that hit the spot” and slams the cup down, exhaling. He’s breathing heavy and Stolas swallows and gestures to the seat across from him, “N-no problem at all, Blitzo”. Blitzo sits and leans back, tilting his chair a little in the air. Stolas sips his cream soda awkwardly then pushes it away.
“So uhm, I had two more visions”, he mentions casually, “Did you wanna hear them?” Blitzo’s eyes widen, “Oh! Yeah sure, lets hear em’”.

Stolas squeezes his own hands and smiles, “Okay, if you insist-” BOOM!!
The cafe doors throw open and smash against the walls as a dark figure walks in. All the imps of the establishment quickly scatter, watching from behind various counters and booths. Stolas coughs from the smoke made by the rubble and spies the figure, all four of his eyes widening and pulls up a menu over his face. Blitzo is about to go see the figure when Stolas grabs the back of his jacket and pulls him back to the table and behind the menu with him.
“What the fuck-do you know that prick?” Blitzo asks, one brow raised in confusion. Stolas says, “Shhhhhh” and puts his finger to his beak, “That’s my father”. Blitzo shuts up quick and puts his hand over his own mouth. They stay still while Stolas tries to hide closer to the wall.

“Stolas Goetia! You show yourself!”, Paimon bellows, his form still shifting in a black mass that terrifies all creatures in the establishment. Then, there’s silence. Until the menu in his hands practically melts from his hands and he’s levitated over to Paimon. Blitzo reaches for his arm and holds on, being dragged with him, but unheld and dangling.
“H...Hi father…”, he says timidly, any confidence he had in his voice when he got here is already shot. Blitzo stays quiet but stays holding onto Stolas’s arm, his feet only dangling a foot off the ground. Paimon moves him to face him as his form finally solidifies. One black ethereal hand pinching the bridge of his nose while the other holds Stolas.

“Stolas. What is the meaning of this? You made a promise to come to the next Ball”, he explains. Stolas’s face twists into disgust, “I made no such thing”, he seethes back. Paimon groans, “So you intended to defy me this whole time, is that it?”
While he is in fact scared, Stolas cannot move inside his father’s magic and just stays there, suspended. He tries to look down at where he can feel Blitzo hanging from his arm but he can’t. His head just stops.
Paimon sighs, like disciplining his son is a mild inconvenience on a nice Sunday evening. He releases the magic and Stolas falls to the ground on top of Blitzo. Blitzo scrambles from underneath him and steps back slowly, not looking at Paimon, only at Stolas with a look of extreme concern. Stolas nods toward him, “Go”. He hangs his head in shame as his father slaps his ankles with his cane, Stolas wincing.
“You will be grounded for two weeks, starting now. You will not leave the palace and the rest I will decide. Go. To the car”, he demands. Blitzo’s eyes widen and he reaches for Stolas’s wrist but Stolas starts in a run to the car, not wanting to get Blitzo in the crossfires.

The cafe doors finally fall off their hinges and fall on the ground, making the imps of the establishment flinch, then everyone started to continue as normal. Workers picked up debris while staring at Blitzo for some kind of explaination. He shrugs and breathes fast, running out of the cafe. He looks left then right, trying to spy which way the car went but it’s already gone.
“FUCK!”, he says to himself and is about to just run a direction when a small hand catches his arm.
“Blitzo stop”, Fizz says as he squeezes the arm. Blitzo is taken aback, both brows furrowing.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” he asks. Fizz looks away then back at him, “Don’t worry about that. Where were you going to go??”
“I-didn’t you see Stolas get-taken? I have to go find him. He could be hurt”, he says and pulls Fizz’s hand off his arm. But Fizz grabs it again.
“Blitzo, he’s royalty. He’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s not just gonna get a slap on the wrist or something”.
Blitzo’s memories throw him back to when he was ten, Paimon back then who realized they had been swindled, and promised to kill him if he came back. When his father found him in the bush and took him by the arm, chastising him for trying to go back for his friend.
“But papa he’s going to hurt him! I have to help!”. Cash growled under his breath and pulled Blitzo’s arm harder.
“We don’t save them, son. We have our own problems. If you die, your mom will kill me”.

“Come on Blitzo, lets go back home”, Fizz says and starts walking the opposite way. But Blitzo swallows his anxiety and runs the other way, sprinting away from Fizz.
“BLITZO!” Fizz yells, his voice getting softer as Blitzo runs.

Chapter Text

Blitzo runs faster, hearing Fizzarolli’s voice getting softer in the distance. After a few minutes he finally stops and tries to slow his breathing, looking around to see if he can tell where he is in town. They were in Imp City but he’s definitely ran out of it by now, it isn’t very big. Why is he doing this? He thinks, at least at this age, he thinks that Fizz is right! Stolas will probably be fine. His punishment will probably be mild at most, maybe a lock on his bedroom door. Nothing that he or Barb have dealt with when it comes to Cash.

But there’s something inside him pulling him to Stolas. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Like a tug. Plus, Stolas still saw more about Blitzo’s future, and he needs to know. Yeah, that’s all he wants. To know his future. He nods to himself resolute, and looks for the tire tracks of the speeding car that left the Cafe so quickly. He catches the marks at a turn and starts in another run down that street.

“If I ever find you here at this palace again you little cretin, I will kill you where your short life stands”, the words from six years ago racking in his head as he runs toward the owl he just met again three weeks ago.

As soon as Stolas is inside he is walked personally to his room by his father, his father’s ethereal hand on his shoulder. His arms shake and his knees wobble as he already flinches from a punishment not even dealt yet. They stop at his room and Stolas just stands there. Paimon levitates open the door and pushes Stolas inside, and he clumsily falls onto the floor.
“Hells, son. I haven’t seen your room since you were an owlet but what have you been doing? Do the help know?”, he gestures toward the tent like curtains on his bed and books strewn about everywhere. Stolas nods lightly, holding his arm.

“Get up, you look pathetic”, he then says as he walks over and pulls down the tent-like structure. Stolas goes to say something but gets a look from his father that says, ‘Don’t even start’. He shuts up. Then he walks over to Stolas’s fiction books, the novellas strewn on the floor.
“No! Father please, it’s all I have!”, he pleads, hands clasped, as he stands up. Paimon laughs and the novellas turn to dust, Stolas’s eyes pricked with tears.
“Son, if fiction is all that you had, then you have a sad life. Now. You will stay in this room for two weeks until the next Ball. And then you will be at that Ball. After that, you can be ungrounded”, he starts to walk out. Stolas says nothing as he can’t really do anything about it. Feeling helpless standing among the ashes of all his stories on the ground.

Paimon passes the door threshold and closes the doors, locking them with a ‘click’ then pocketing a key. Stolas crawls onto his bed and pulls his knees to his chest, staring into the empty dark space of his room and strewn about linens that used to make up his tent. He pulls his pillows close and squeezes them, chitter crying into them until he falls asleep.

After over an hour of some wrong turns, Blitzo finally finds the palace. There’s no way he can let that prick see him, and any workers would tell on him. He looks to the side at a garden wall that looks scale-able with vines. Climbing over, he lands in a soft patch of dirt with freshly planted baby plants. One looks like it’s from Gluttony and nips at his ankle.
“Ahh!”, he yells in whisper form. He slaps the plant and pulls his ankle from the tiny plant’s grasp. Then slinks across the courtyard grounds, slithering behind bush to bush. He spies a balcony that has a sigil that he didn’t see at the front, but around the sigil it spells in plain letters, ‘Stolas’. He looks left and right for any imp workers, then throws himself with acrobatic skill, up to the ledge of the balcony.

As easily as he does every day at work, he pulls his whole body weight over the stone fence, and lands on the balcony soundly. He looks around again and pulls on the door handle, and it’s surprisingly open. The two mosaic doors creaks open and he carefully tip toes in. Immediately, he finds Stolas asleep. Propped against multiple pillows in a curled in position. He frowns and looks at the room. Ash litters the floor and he widens his eyes, unsure what happened to cause that. Hellfire of some kind? Maybe he was wrong about Stolas’s punishment. He walks over to the side of the bed and sits down against the frame. He’s here, he might as well let him sleep. He grabs some paper and a quill in arms reach and starts drawing.

Stolas’s eyes all blink multiple times, very groggy from the unexpected nap. And he opens his eyes to be in immediate eye line of...horns? He sits up suddenly and the horns turn to reveal Blitzo, sitting in his room. Drawing. It’s dark now and there have been candles lit throughout the room. He blinks again and Blitzo’s mouth stays in a neutral expression, “Hey”.

Stolas is still in shock, “H-Hi. I-uh-why are you here?” he asks. Blitzo shrugs, “I mean, you said you had more visions about my future, couldn’t just let you fuck off, huh?” Stolas looks unsure but nods, “Right. And...I mean I’m not really in the mood to talk about that right now”. Blitzo nods, “Come down here”.
“On the ground?” Stolas asks. Blitzo gestures, “Yeah duh, on the ground. I ain’t getting’ up”. Stolas awkwardly slides off the bed and down next to Blitzo. Unconsciously bringing a pillow with him that he’s holding tight to his chest. Blitzo turns to face him and shows him the picture, “Pretty good huh?”
Stolas turns his head as if examining it and smiles, “It’s a horse”. Blitzo frowns, “It’s a damn good horse”. Stolas giggles, “It’s a damn good horse”. Blitzo smiles again, “Thank you”.

Stolas looks away, starting to dissociate at the ground. Blitzo clears his throat, “So….what’d he do?” Tears brim at Stolas’s bottom two eyes, “He destroyed all my novels, and I’m not to leave this room until the next Ball. Then I have to go to the Ball and face that horrid girl”. Blitzo sighs, “That fucking sucks man”. Stolas perks up, “You know, it does fucking suck! I am so fucking tired of him! UGH!” he slams a fist on the ground and black smoke emanates off of it for just a moment. Blitzo narrows his eyes. Well that was weird.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” Blitzo asks. Stolas looks at him in confusion, “Running away? Like in books? I wouldn’t be able to survive, heh”. Blitzo chuckles, “Yeah you’re probably right”. Stolas’s chest perks up, “Not that-that I wouldn’t want to try. I mean”. Blitzo shift his foot and for a moment it touches Stolas’s leg and he forgets not to flinch.
“...Sorry”, Blitzo says. Stolas sighs, “It’s fine”.

They sit in silence for a few moments when Blitzo speaks up, “I could…help you. If you wanted. Plenty of people run away to the circus”.

Stolas looks over at him slowly, “You would do that for me?” Blitzo rubs the back of his neck, “I mean...sure”. Stolas pulls him into a hug, Blitzo dropping his new sheet of paper, “Then yes! Then yes, I want to go”.
Blitzo is shocked by the hug and looks past Stolas, wondering what the fuck he just said and agreed to. His cheeks flushed and hot. He wiggles from the hug and looks at Stolas with wide eyes.

“I-sorry I didn’t mean to-mm!” he says as Blitzo is kissing him, holding the back of his head with his hand, digging his claws in his head feathers. Stolas scooches and leans in, pulling Blitzo closer by the back and deepening the kiss. They finally come out of it and with wide eyes and flushed faces looking at each other, Blitzo starts, “Again?” Stolas nods but they’re already in another, Blitzo pushing Stolas onto his back and making out languidly as he relaxes on top of him, arms wrapped around necks. It’s like a big sigh releases from them both, and they stop and sit up, Blitzo’s hand ending up on top of Stolas’s.

“Will there be...more of that?” Stolas asks sheepishly. Blitzo shakes his head and chuckles, then smiles devilishly, “If you can catch me”, as he gets up and runs through the balcony doors, Stolas starting in a run after him.