Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's a normal day at the Undervale when it happens.

It's nice and sunny out. Katherine had made pancakes for breakfast. Nobody had choked on the quarters stuffed into their mouths in the night. The ghosts were mostly minding their own business. There had even been a guest last night who didn't run off screaming and crying! All in all, it's shaping up to be a really pleasant day.

And then the ground just past the front door splits open, spewing fire and smoke and the scent of sulfur and misery, and a beast crawls out with a wail sharper than Abaddon's when he's been denied something.

The hotel's inhabitants all exchange varying levels of confusion and irritation, wondering what their conflict of the week is going to be. All except for Abaddon, who stiffens in his chair and drops his box of prunes on the floor. His eyes are wide and his mouth is completely agape. The others can't tell if it's fear or shock.

"Abs?" Esther pipes up once the wailing stops. She's still sitting in her chair while Katherine and Ben have ducked under the kitchen table. Katherine's hand is gripped onto the front of Esther's coat, trying to drag her into hiding with them, but she holds onto the table to keep herself upright. "What's up with you? Do you know what's goin' on?"

"Yes. I do," he says. The demon has twisted in his chair to look out the kitchen window. His face morphs into a huge grin. "I very much do."

"Care to elaborate??" Ben cries. "Is this another apocalypse you have to thwart? If we have to run, I'd really appreciate you telling us now so I can get a headstart! I've still got that ankle thing and —"

"He's gone," Esther says, interrupting her brother. "Abaddon walked out of the kitchen like twenty seconds ago."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!?"

"Cause bothering you makes me happy, Ben! I dunno what you want from me!"

"Esther, stop emotionally damaging your brother," Katherine groans. Sensing no immediate danger, she comes back out from under the table and brushes the dirt off her knees. "Ben, sweetie, we all know about the ankle thing. You can just say you need a heads-up if we have to run anywhere and we'll figure it out."

Ben pouts. Katherine peers out the window and, to her relief, the huge, trembling hole in the earth is sealing itself back up (calling the city to come patch a portal to Hell in front of the place was not a task she needed to add to her giant to-do list). To her dread, the roughly fifteen-foot tall demon that clambered out of it is still there, and circling Abaddon who stepped outside with fervor.

Katherine is actually finding it a little difficult to perceive. It looks like it belongs on a flat surface and not a 3D space, but the fact that it's darker than a damn container of Vantablack isn't doing any favors in terms of proper depth perception. It's not very broad, but the four arms with razor-sharp claws on the ends and ten eyes on its flat, ovular head are really creeping her out. Two tails swish behind it, dragging across the dirt and gravel and leaving shallow trenches in their wake. She's pretty sure it has horns, also, but looking anywhere near the eyes fills Katherine with an otherworldly sense of dread, so she's not looking too hard.

Abaddon, though, looks completely enchanted. He has the biggest, most genuine smile on his face Katherine has seen in a long time, and his mouth is moving a mile a minute as the creature continues to circle him.

"Did Abby have a pet demon in Hell?" Nathan asks, phasing through the wall to stand next to his sister. "He looks more excited than the time I allowed him to tear apart a bathroom on the third floor so I could redo the wallpaper. He ate the paste before I could put up the new wallpaper, but he sure had fun doin' it!"

"Ohh, no," Katherine scowls, turning and walking out of the kitchen. Esther rushes after her with an excited grin and Nathan isn't far behind. "I wouldn't let Ben have a gerbil when he was 7, I refused to get Esther a cat for her birthday, and I will absolutely not let some eldritch hell-mutt destroy the property even further!"

When she makes it to the front doors, she pushes them open and shoots a fierce glare at Nathan's ward, who is smiling back sweeter than she's ever seen. It makes her falter for a moment.

"Abaddon," she says, "this had better not be some monster dog or something —"

"What??" Abaddon blurts, incredulous. His smile doesn't falter, though. He just waves an arm at the demon still slowly prowling around him like a predator. "This gorgeous creature is no pet, matriarch. Feast your eyes and rejoice on the visage you have the privilege to lay your feeble, mortal gaze on!!"

Esther tries to scoot past Katherine to go examine their guest up close, but her mom grips her by the hood of her jacket. She scoffs and crosses her arms, muttering "lame" under her breath. Nathan cocks a hip out while resting his hand on it and nods appreciatively, smiling wide.

"Okay," he says, "neat, neat! Little hard to look at, bud, I'll be honest! Um...what are we looking at, exactly..?"

Abaddon scoffs, turning to the dark being and grasping one of its claws. The low, echoing rattle that emerges from the beast in response makes him chuckle.

"This," the boy says with obvious pride, "is my wife!"

Chapter Text

You aren't allowed inside the building on account of the flames licking at the ends of your tail and horns and one of many mouths. Abaddon pitches a fit about this, about wanting to give his beloved the grand tour of his domain and introduce you to his favorite, earthly things. He's so cute when he's mad on your behalf.

"Will they permit me entry if I obtain a vessel of my own?" You ask him, idly scraping your claws against the dirt and grass. The human in the yellow jacket seems irritated by this. She and the other mortals clap their hands over their ears as you speak in your native tongues, forgetting how sensitive they can be to certain sounds.

"There should be no reason why you can't come in as you are," Abaddon insists. "This is really discriminatory of you, Katherine."

"Abaddon — first of all, I can't believe you know what that word means — but she's gonna burn the place to the ground if she comes in like that!" The yellow-jacketed woman crosses her arms as she speaks. She must be Katherine. "Can she at least turn the fire off?"

"Her flame is beautiful, as is the rest of her!!"

"Aww," the ghost in the blue sweater coos, "that's the sweetest thing you've ever said about anything, bud!"

"Yes, well. She deserves sweet words," your husband huffs. You'd bump your tails against his in fondness if he still had access to his true form. For now, you lift a massive hand and brush your claws down his head and back in appreciation, leaving a few claw marks in his borrowed skin and shredding his blouse a little. Abaddon looks at you over his shoulder and preens as blood quickly escapes his new wounds.

"Can she shape shift?" The mortal child asks, still trying and failing to step around her mother to approach you. Her curiosity is endearing. "If not, I can probably find a glamour spell!! PLEASE let me find a glamour spell. I've been so bored transfiguring beetles into pens."

"Is that why we have pen bugs!?" Katherine cries. "I can't stand those things!"

You chuckle. To the humans, it sounds like deep, echoing rumbles coming from all directions and scraping against their minds. They all flinch but Abaddon.

"Your slaves are very funny, beloved."

"Actually, these mortals aren't my slaves. Well, the ghost kind of is; he certainly did most of my bidding when he was alive."

"You can just say guardian, bud!" The ghost says.

"They're my..." Abaddon continues, teeth gritting around the word. "...fffrieends...whom I...care...for." He coughs up a little bit of blood, then wipes it away.

"Friends? You made friends?" What a fascinating development. Your husband was not particularly popular in Hell, but he was dedicated to his work and a master of his craft. He took his job more seriously than the rest of your kind, which is what drew your attention to him in the first place. You can still remember the day your progenitor demanded you create a union to strengthen alliances, and you'd immediately chosen your dark prince much to her displeasure.

You look at your mighty gatekeeper now, in his three feet of fleshy, near-powerless glory. Oh how the mighty fall, and yet he's just as charming as you remember. You missed your husband in the three hundred years he's been gone, which is a true rarity in the underworld.

You may as well have a good look at what's keeping him up here.

"You can tell the child she is allowed to use her magic to fashion me a disguise like yours."

"Esther," Abaddon says with gusto to the little girl whose name you now know, "you have permission to cast a spell on my perfect wife! Make it a good one or I will eat all of your homework and number two pencils again."

"Come on, man, don't do that! My teachers know I don't have a dog to blame that on and I'm tired of skipping detentions!"

"You're getting detentions?" Katherine blurts. "And skipping them??"

The child runs off with glee despite her previous complaints, and Katherine remains on the porch with a scowl and crossed arms.

"This is so much," the human sighs. "I don't wanna begin to think about the kind of damage I'll have to clean up with two demons in the hotel...Abaddon, how long have you even been married?"

"Our six hundred and sixty sixth anniversary is actually approaching."

"Happy early anniversary!" Nathan cheers. "When is it?"

"Six days," Abaddon says.

"Ironic! When Esther makes your lucky lady a non-flammable body, I wanna hear all about how you two got together!"

You let out a low, long rumble of contentment that shakes the ground and briefly darkens the sky. You're starting to see why Abaddon enjoys their company, now. In your millennia alive, humans have never received your presence this positively before. It feels almost as good as rending flesh from bone and sucking out the marrow.

Something bumps into one of your legs. Three of your eyes flicker towards it, and find that Abaddon had subconsciously tried to knock tails with you. All of your mouths stretch into wide, toothy grins, blade-sharp fangs on display, and you scoop him up with one arm to perch on your back. His little, human fingers sizzle against your form as he embraces you, uttering his reverence into your ears in Latin since his vessel can't properly pronounce anything in your mother tongue.

Chapter Text

"Abaddon, come double-check these runes. I think they're right but I want to make sure before I close the bracelet."

Abaddon reluctantly skitters off your tall body to check Esther's handiwork for the third time in an hour. The first time was to correct the type of beads used and the second was to change the material of the cord linking them together as jewelry. He's being extremely methodical about it, scanning each symbol with maximum prejudice. He plucks three beads out of the pile after a few seconds and hands them to the human girl.

"Redo these carefully. You need thinner curves and sharper corners. This rune here also needs a dot underneath; you're trying to give her willing transfiguration, not make her invisible to everyone that isn't a seventh-born son."

"Aye aye, cap'n." Esther salutes him and runs back inside the hotel where the other humans had retreated shortly after introductions concluded. Abaddon turns to you and lifts both his arms up in a silent request for Uppies. You scoop him off the ground, then he makes himself comfortable in the space between your neck and shoulder.

"I miss being able to torture sinners with you," he sighs. You hum softly, which vibrates your whole body and makes him shake and tremble from his perch. He smiles. "How did you locate me?"

"I found the hellmouth you made when you first traveled to Earth." With one of your arms, you gesture to the hotel and the dark energy radiating inside its foundation deep in the ground. When you surfaced, you anticipated needing to possess a few bodies, followed by extensive traveling across the planet to hunt him down, but... "You stayed in place the entire time?"

Your husband looks down at his human hands. He's so very small like this. You aren't used to it.

"I waited in case Hell chose to come for me."

He clenches his fists. When he looks back up at you, his two, red eyes peer in awe at your five golden pairs.

"I waited and it worked. You came." He reaches up to brush his fingers against the edge of your lowest mouth. It phases through your head for half of a moment, mortal skin never meant to make contact with pure, demonic energy. "Out of anyone, I hoped it would be you."

Your chest rumbles deeply with pride. Of course you would have looked for your betrothed; he was promised to you and you wanted him back. Eternity would end before you would have stopped searching for Abaddon.

When Esther returns, the beads are given one final approval and then the bracelet is assembled. It's a deceptively small thing, laced with enchanted ribbon and the runes painted into each bead with the blood of a virgin (Ben was not happy to have his finger pricked for this procedure). Abaddon ties it around the wrist of your smallest arm, magic thrumming up your limb as the spell begins to envelop you.

You think carefully about the form you want to take, moulding and shaping it in your mind, and all of your eyes slip closed in concentration. Your demonic body warps and curls and shrinks down, tails and horns vanishing, flames extinguishing, and soon you are standing before them in a human body with two eyes, two arms, two legs, and long, winding hair.

"C'mon, lady! You couldn't imagine some clothes!?" Esther cries, shielding her gaze. Odd, she didn't seem to care about your bare form when you were twelve feet taller than this. The human turns and flees inside, presumably to fetch you some fabric to drape over this body, and you stumble slowly towards your husband.

"Ooo...I fffeel..." You mumble, testing out the English language with your clumsy, human tongue. You trip over a rock in the driveway and Abaddon quickly shoves his hands under your armpits to keep you from hitting the ground. "Ssstraange..."

"It took me a few minutes to acclimate when I first inhabited this form as well," he says. His eyes flicker over you approvingly. "I don't find humans visually appealing, but you've always had a skill for making even the mundane seem alluring."

You grin at him with your singular mouth. That would take some adjusting, too. He grins back, hands trailing down your arms to lace fingers with you.

"I have so many things to show you!" He says. "My hidden nest in the ventilation system, all the runes carved into the hotel, the many, many bones and ancient artifacts I've collected, the best places to stuff Katherine's earrings —"

"I knew it!" Katherine walks back outside with clothes in her arms, glaring at Abaddon as she walks towards you. "I knew I was losing too many pairs for it to be a coincidence, you little brat."

She kneels down and separates your grip from your husband's, wrapping a large towel around your body and picking you up. You scoff at her.

"Why am I being accosted by your slave?" You ask Abaddon, who follows after Katherine as she walks through the front doors again.

"Because public nudity is a crime, especially when you look like a small child. And Abaddon already told you, we aren't his slaves."

"I didn't ask you," you growl. When you exhale, a small plume of smoke rolls out of your throat, like a dragon's warning. The look Katherine shoots you is wary and her hold on you slackens a bit.

Abaddon stares at you like you'd personally hung all the stars in the sky, even though you're only responsible for two of the constellations currently sitting up there.

"This mode of transport is pleasing once you get used to it," he says, following after you through the hotel halls and into an empty bedroom. You look around and don't fight it as you're put back down in the en-suite bathroom. Katherine presses her palm to your husband's forehead, barring his entry. "Wh-? What's the meaning of this?"

"She's naked, Abaddon! Guys don't look at girls while they're changing, that's impolite!"

"That's my WIFE! If anything, YOU shouldn't be looking!"

He tries to step past her to no avail and ends up furiously windmilling his arms, hissing profanities in multiple languages. Eventually, she nudges him far back enough to slam the bathroom door, which he starts clawing at.

"FREE HER!"

"In a minute!!" Katherine snaps. She turns to you with a huge sigh and picks up the clothing she'd been carrying. "I grabbed this outfit from my daughter's room since she's outgrown it. Do you know how to put these on?"

"I do not," you say, because it's true. Demons have no need for clothes or modesty in Hell.

"Okay. Well, if I put them on you, will you keep them on? I'm serious about the nudity; it's not going to fly if you wanna stay here."

You assess her offerings: a black dress with white lace on the sleeves, collar, and skirt, white knee-high socks, some underwear, and a black headband. It'll suffice.

"Sure." You spread your two arms and listen to your husband continue to bang on the door. "Adorn me quickly, slave, so I can rejoin my beloved."

"I'm not your — ugh, forget it. I have too much to do to worry about what you think this relationship is gonna be right now."

You remain quiet and move your body accordingly as Katherine clothes you. The fabric is soft and light against your flesh. Comfortable. A luxury rarely afforded in the underworld. She even gathers your hair out of your face and secures it with a rubber band, the new braid now resting against the middle of your back instead of brushing your calves.

When you're deemed publicly presentable, Katherine reopens the door. Abaddon scurries back and drops the bone shard he was using to pick the lock, face shifting from rage to awe as he looks you over.

"Oh..." He says. "I think I finally understand what humans mean when they say something is "cute," now."

You hum in delight, taking slow, careful steps towards him. He reaches for your hand again, interlacing your fingers to keep you steady.

"I missed your endless praises," you tell him. The human steps around you both and heads for the door.

"Okay, listen," she says, "I have to finish cleaning up the room Jessica destroyed and then cook dinner. No murder, no summoning other demons, and stop stealing my earrings. Don't destroy this hotel or so help me, I'm kicking you both to the curb, lovebirds."

"Sure, whatever," Abaddon says, barely paying attention as he waves her off. His eyes are locked on your own, clearly more interested in your attention than anything else. "No summoning earrings or birds. Got it."

Katherine glares, but ultimately deems whatever else she might want to say not worth it, and leaves you two alone. You face Abaddon fully and lift your hands to cup his face, studying the vessel he's claimed more intently now.

"Abaddon..." You murmur, his name sitting heavy between you. "It's been centuries. Barely a blip and yet it felt like eons. Tell me everything."

Abaddon rests his hands over your own, pressing his face into your palm. He nods.

"Very well. As you know, I was required to come to earth on my ten thousandth year..."

Chapter Text

Dinner is an interesting affair. Abaddon kicks open a vent cover and scurries out like usual, but then he stops and turns, offering you his arm to help you climb out from behind him. He's got a few cobwebs in his hair while you remain spotless.

It's the most gentlemanly and nice anyone has ever seen him act, ever. Kinda freaky.

"Hi, bud! Hi, wife of bud!" Nathan steps away from Esther after asking her to describe the taste of her macaroni and cheese in uncomfortable amounts of detail and crouches in front of you both. "Wow, look at you, you're like a doll! You're so pretty in your little dress!"

You stare at the ghost with an irritated scowl, looking him up and down, and point at him with one razor-sharp fingernail. Your eyes flash gold and your teeth lengthen in your anger.

"Do not speak down to me, pathetic after-image of a rotting corpse. I am a princess of Hell and a feared torturess! You will address me with respect, or you will not address me at all!"

Abaddon sighs dreamily, leaning against the fridge to stare at you. "You are the very picture of fear and agony. A consummate demon."

Nathan grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a nervous step away from you. His eyes dart around, looking for some support, but the rest of his family leaves him out to dry on this one. He clears his throat and tries again.

"Technically, I'm an after-image of a pile of ashes... heh... I'm Nathan! It's terrifying to meet you!"

The snarl on your face twists into sick pleasure instead. You lower your arm and raise your chin with victorious pride.

"Yes it is," you say, "now bow to me."

"Er...that's not really —"

"BOW!" You roar, rattling the window panes from the volume alone. Nathan doubles over in haste, one arm tucked behind his back for good measure. "Hmm. Acceptable."

You turn towards the table, eyes jumping from Esther, to Ben, to Katherine. Abaddon scurries up the counter to grab for the cereal box on top of the fridge. On the way up, he looks at Nathan.

"She approves of you," he tells the specter. "I congratulate your swift cooperation under her endlessly impressive might."

"No problem, Abby," Nathan whispers back. "I used to have a really demanding girlfriend, too. I kinda get it."

"Someone wanted you? Romantically?"

"Okay, ouch. You could stand to look way less surprised about that."

Abaddon shrugs. He jumps and smacks his hand against the box of Froot Loops, successfully dislodging it enough to pull down from the top of the fridge. He skitters back to the ground, standing next to you as you engage in a silent staring contest with Esther.

"You're good at this," Esther says, continuing to shovel mac and cheese in her mouth. She gets a little sauce on her cheek. "Nobody at school's ever beaten me in a stare-off before."

"You don't know even one hundredth of what I can do, mortal," you utter back, deadpan. Esther grins at you with cheesy teeth. You bare your teeth back.

"Abs, your wife is badass."

"Language," Katherine sighs.

"Uh, mom?" Ben asks, shooting nervous glances your way. The pathetic weasel can't maintain any semblance of eye contact with you, even in this disguise; it's utterly hilarious. "How long is she gonna be here? Because, we just got done recalculating the budget for the third time this month and I dunno if we can afford another body to feed..."

"Your slaves are poor, too, my love?" You click your tongue in disapproval before Katherine can respond. "Humans are such simple creatures. I will not let this stand."

"They are allies, beloved," Abaddon reminds you. You hum in acknowledgement, then cackle victoriously as Esther finally blinks to clear the burning in her eyes, losing the staring contest. "Here — your success warrants a treat. These are a precious resource, with a crunch that rivals a mouthful of phalanges! And lots of sugar that makes your head buzz."

You look at the box of cereal your husband is holding. He opens it and pulls out a handful of small, colorful circles for you. They look unassuming and smell like artificial flavoring and food dye.

You pop one in your mouth, then chirp in delight. It's the best fucking thing you've ever tasted.

"Abaddon," you cry, clutching his shoulders, "this is a delicacy worth hundreds of souls! I need more!"

His expression morphs into excitement to match your own, like he was concerned you would not agree with his preferences in human consumables. He must have forgotten that what he loves, you love. You intend to remind him every day now that you're reunited.

"Come with me," he beckons, walking you back to the vents with despite knowing Katherine forbade him from eating the whole box of Froot Loops in one sitting. Technically, he won't be; he's sharing. Humans love that. "We shall feast in my nest, and later I will introduce you to strawberry yogurt!"

"Ooh!"

"Do all demons go crazy for Froot Loops?" Nathan muses aloud. Katherine shrugs in exhaustion.

"Don't know, don't care. They're getting one box to share between them and no more."

You stop at the opening of the air duct, looking at Katherine over your shoulder.

"You will acquire as many portions of this treat as my husband and I desire." Before the human can respond, you hold up your hand. "Quiet. You and your kin are significant to him, so I will graciously overlook your inadequacies and instead bestow you a gift. In exchange, I expect him to be treated with more respect the next you lay eyes upon Abaddon, Gatekeeper of the Fifth Ring and High Prince of the Black Realm. Nod if you understand and accept these terms, mortals."

"Okay!" Esther grins, nodding. Nathan shrugs and nods, and Ben was already agreeing to everything you said out of fear. Katherine narrows her eyes at you from her seat at the table.

"What kind of gift?" She asks.

Your lips curl into a small smirk. "Check your bank account," you say, then vanish into the vents after Abaddon.

Katherine pulls her phone out of her pocket and opens her banking app, then nearly drops it in shock at the amount of zeroes in her savings.

Nathan leans over her shoulder to peek at what she's looking at and whistles. "That's more than enough to cover the bills in this place for a while! Hey, maybe we can finally get my hedge maze constructed!!"

Chapter Text

"Can I ask you a question?"

You turn your head until you lock eyes with Benjamin Freeling, the cowardly one in the family, as he sits on the steps in front of the Undervale. All of the blood drains from his face as he watches your neck twist far beyond what a human could survive just to look at him, while the rest of you remains facing forward. You could have just turned around like normal, but he's so easy to scare it's honestly delicious.

"Speak," you tell him. He caught you before you could walk into the woods, curious to explore the property while Abaddon made space in his nest to accommodate your arrival.

Ben scratches his right arm with his left hand, a visible marker of tension. He can't keep his eyes on your own, electing to stare down at his shoes instead.

"How, um...how'd you meet Abaddon?" He asks. "He's never mentioned you before except once in passing, and it was just the fact that he had a mother-in-law. I guess I'm just wondering if it was an arranged situation, or like a lottery, or..."

You turn the rest of the way around, your head and neck shifting back to a normal placement on your shoulders. His curiosity pleases you, regardless of the reason for it. You love talking about yourself; it's your third favorite pastime, next to being with Abaddon and torturing the eternally damned.

"It was a classic love story," you smile, and it's genuine. You wave your hands for emphasis as you speak, delighted to share the tale with someone else. "Almost all demons are born of a primordial ichor within the pits of the Seventh Ring, then dispatched to their respective areas to perform menial jobs unless instructed otherwise. Demon royalty are, however, hand-selected and plucked out before maturation, then dunked into special baths by higher authority to finish gestating."

"Like bees feeding royal jelly to their next queen..." Ben whispers. You raise a brow, displeased at his interruption, and he quickly stammers out an apology. His subservience is a breath of hellish air, so you are quick to forgive his transgression.

"Abaddon was born of the primordial ichor, and I was selected by my mother to be gestated in the royal pit. I emerged as the Princess of Greed, and if mother dies or abdicates her title, I will then become the Sin of Greed."

Ben's eyes widen. He meets your gaze in surprise, completely hooked on your story.

"Like, the actual sin?"

"Like the actual sin," you confirm.

"Does there have to be a demon who represents each sin?"

"Yes. Mortals cannot be tempted by that which does not exist. If there is no one to act as the host for that sin, there is no sin."

Ben opens his mouth to ask you something else. He hesitates, then starts picking at a loose thread on his jacket, shaking his head.

"Speak," you tell him. "I will not punish your curiosity this day. My story is only partly finished."

"Is there...or was there, I guess, a sin that vanished because it didn't have a demon to represent it?"

You nod. Ben is intelligent for a human. This is a positive trait to have in slav— allies. They are allies, held in a very positive light to your beloved, and you will regard them similarly.

"Yes. There used to be eight sins."

"Whoa..." He mutters. "What was it?"

"I can't tell you. It doesn't exist anymore."

"But," he frowns, "it used to? What was it called when it existed?"

You tilt your head, resting your hands on your hips. "Do you want me to speak its name for your mortal ears to shudder against, inciting unquenchable curiosity that slowly infects your mind until you're driven insane and your soul doomed to drift forever in Purgatory, or do you want to know how I met Abaddon?"

"I wanna know how you met Abaddon," Ben squeaks. You smirk.

"Abaddon was born to work in the fifth ring. His job was to sift through the lives of the damned, find what made them the most wrathful, and construct a punishment related to it. My current job is related to my sin: to oversee sinners that perished due to greed and torture them with something they most desired in life, forever tricking them into thinking if they just reach a little further, try a little harder, that they'll finally be able to seize it."

Your smile widens and your teeth sharpen as you talk about your work, becoming more passionate and excitable with every sentence. Your headband gets displaced by the large, glittering black horns that suddenly shoot from your head, huge and spiraling around your ears like a ram's. The ends are smoking as though they're about to burst into flame. Ben looks like he's second from bolting, and he'd better not. He was the one who asked for your love story, and dammit, you're just getting to the good part!

"Don't you see? His tortures and mine...they are so complimentary. The false hope chasing after that which you most desire, only to be hindered and enraged by that which you most despise...stuck in an endless loop of chasing and raging, chasing and raging, until you can't tell which emotion is which anymore and you can't even go mad about it, because in Hell you're forced to endure your punishment in a state of perpetual awareness! Hahaha, hahahahaaa! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Ben is, literally, shaking in his boots. His knees knock together several times and he's hugging himself tight enough that you hear a seam pop on his jacket. All the color has drained from his face, leaving behind a beautifully ghostly portrait of terror that feeds your dark soul.

When your laughing fit ceases and you collect yourself, you clear your throat and smooth down the skirt of your dress.

"So, naturally," you continue, "when I became of marriageable age, mother had chosen two suitors for me, and I chose two suitors of my own, pitting them against each other in a series of grueling challenges to earn my hand. Abaddon flawlessly conquered every one, which I'd known he would do the second I laid eyes on him. I'd witnessed the care he took to construct the perfect punishments for every sinner under his supervision, more care and attention than most of our kind could ever bother to summon for anything, and knew I needed a passion like his by my side for all eternity."

You press your hands to your face, swaying slightly to the left and right. Your eyes close as you get lost in the memory of your first meeting with him, having come across his designated domain while traveling between Rings.

"I still remember the very first thing he ever said to me," you murmur. Your dark heart skips a beat and your cheeks burn with color.

"What..." Ben says, slowly calming down again now that you're done describing torments in gruesome detail. "What did he say?"

"You're disrupting me," you say, mimicking Abaddon's voice perfectly. Ben startles as you do. "Isn't that so attractive? A Princess of sin and the Prime Torturess of the Black Realm had graced him, a simple Wrathman, with her presence, and he was so focused on doing his job as diligently as possible that he almost didn't notice me!!"

You let out a kiddish squeal and smoke pours out of your mouth as you jump up and down, the dress fabric swishing with your movements and small, kitten heels clicking with every impact against the hard, rocky ground. Your braid hits your back with every bounce, stray pieces of hair flying free, and your headband falls off entirely to hit the ground next to you.

"I was smitten from the start!" You trill, the essence of Greed showing itself as your story nears its end. "There was no one else for me, Benjamin. I had to have him. I needed to be the one to have him. He is MINE."

You stop yourself before you can start cackling again, finally lifting your face from your hands to beam breathlessly at the human. Ben just sits there with wide eyes and his arms still wrapped around himself. He stammers a little when it's clear you're waiting for him to say something.

"That's very...I'm really happy? For you?" He says. "That is actually kind of romantic. In a dark and terribly, awfully twisted way..."

"Your words flatter me greatly." You start to calm in earnest and run your hands along your horns, willing them out of existence, and breathe out the last of the smoke in your chest. The exertion has left you pink-cheeked and a little rumpled, and you haven't even started tearing through the woods yet like you'd planned. "So, that was it. I enlisted his participation in the competition for my hand, he accepted, and he won. Abaddon became my Prince and ascended from his original post, and we tortured in marital bliss until his trip to Earth went wrong, and separated us."

Ben frowns. He gets up and cautiously walks towards you, bending down to pick up your headband. You stand still and allow him to gently put it back on.

"I'm sorry he went missing for so long," he says. "What's gonna happen now that you've found him stuck like this? He can't really go back to Hell in a kid's body, right?"

"Oh, you needn't worry, mortal," you chuckle, reaching up to pat his cheek like one might an obedient dog. Ben flinches a little. "I will free my husband from his imprisonment and restore him to his former glory. Then, we will conquer this realm and burn it to ashes for daring to cause him any amount of suffering. We will keep your family preserved and protected under our rule until your natural passing, of course; Abaddon regards you all quite highly and I appreciate the care he's been shown under your occupancy."

Ben doesn't have a response for that. He just stands there, shocked to silence, and watches you turn and finally trek into the forest like you'd planned.

"...you're not gonna burn the world until after we die of natural causes right?" He calls after you. "Right!?"

Chapter Text

Katherine wakes up in the attic in the middle of the night, groggy and disoriented. She did not fall asleep in the attic, so her confusion turns into panic as soon as she sits up and finds a shackle locked around her forearm.

"What the hell??" She gasps, pulling on the chain to no avail. It rattles and thunks with her movement, but does not yield. "Hello!? Is somebody there!? Nathan! Nathan if you're drifting around I need you to go get someone tangible to help me!!"

"He can't hear you. No one can."

Katherine flinches, pressing her back against the wall as you step out from the shadows. The dress you were gifted is tattered around the skirt and covered in blood, and she doesn't wanna know where it came from. Your eyes are glowing in the dark space and when you stop a few feet in front of her, your body is stiller than stone. It's incredibly unnerving.

You look like an innocent little girl, and yet Katherine's heart is racing as she gazes up at you.

"Did you lock me up here?" She asks. "Why!? Young lady, I don't know or care what rank you had in Hell, but up here you can't just —"

She blinks and suddenly there's a fist in her hair, gripping so tight that the edges of her vision are whiting out in agony. She can feel unnaturally sharp nails threatening to pierce her scalp and a massive headache blooming behind her eyes, and the noise that leaves her throat is a mix between a shout and a sob.

"I wanted to cut your arm off, you know." Your tone is almost mocking in its serenity. You lift your other hand and cup her cheek, thumbing away a tear Katherine didn't know she had shed from the pain. "It would've been adequate reparations for what you did to my husband. But your limbs don't grow back like his do. I can't simply put your hand back on with enough packing tape."

Her heart is racing like she's doing a marathon, eyes wide and watering. Of course Abaddon had told you what happened to him during his time on Earth. Of course he told you what she'd done to him. Why hadn't she thought you'd retaliate?

"Because you thought I was powerless in this form, just like him," you whisper, tapping your temple to let her know you could read minds while your lips curl in a smile way wider than a human can make. As you speak, Katherine spots several rows of teeth in your mouth, and wonders if this is how it feels to have a terror-induced heart attack.

"I-I didn't..." She stammers, blinking rapidly as your face looms even closer. She can't back up anymore, pressed flat against the wall. The nauseating scent of iron and smoke floods her nose. "I didn't want him to chew his arm off to get out. I was gonna let him back out again."

"I know," you coo, voice still that same, even tone, "Katherine, I already know. And I would have let the matter drop, had you apologized. Had you felt anything at the time but annoyance over needing to patch him back up for something you did to him."

"So you're gonna leave me up here??" She asks.

"I am. Abaddon was left up here, his skin pressed against cold iron that burned him relentlessly, for thirty-nine and a half minutes until he'd gotten himself free. So you will endure the same suffering you inflicted. What do humans call it...?"

The hand you have on her cheek shifts up, brushing right underneath her bottom eyelid. Your hard staring makes her feel like a specimen under a microscope.

"An eye for an eye? Yes, I believe that's it."

Katherine blinks, and your hands are gone. The punishing grip in her hair has vanished and her eye is left alone. You step back until you're just barely out of sight in the dark space of the attic, then set down a digital timer with 39 minutes programmed into it.

"The shackle will release itself once you've paid your penance." You grasp the edges of your skirt and dip into a low courtesy. "Miss Freeling."

While bowing, you press the Start button on the timer, then turn and walk towards the attic door. Katherine gasps as her shackled arm starts burning, like it's been dunked in a pot of boiling water. She instinctively pulls and yanks on it, panic returning worse than before.

"Ah — it's burning!" She shouts at your retreating figure. "Hey, s-stop! Stop it, I'm sorry! I'll never do this to him again! Come back and let me out, it burns!! It burns!!"

You open the door to the attic and step out, shooting her one last glance over your shoulder.

"An eye for an eye," you repeat, "or an arm for an arm, in this case."

Katherine screams for help, hoping her voice will carry into the hallway, will alert someone to her agony, and you slam the door.

She doubles over and starts hyperventilating. Pain is rocketing up and down her forearm where the shackle traps it, even through the sleeve of her pajama shirt, and a tearful glance at the timer only shows that two minutes have passed. She can't possibly put up with thirty more of this; she'll go mad long before that timer ever reaches zero.

"I'm SORRY!!" Katherine bellows into the dark. Nothing answers her back. Now, she realizes that she'd chew her whole fucking arm off, too, if she were Abaddon. Is this really the amount of agony he felt when she left him in here?

"I'M SORRY!!"

In the corridor, you sit against the wall with your eyes facing forward and run your hands through Abaddon's hair, gentle and loving as you caress his scalp. He stares up at the ceiling with an unreadable expression as his head lies in your lap, listening to Katherine's increasing hysterics.

"You didn't have to defend my honor," he tells you quietly, after a third of her time has passed. "She had given me a job and I failed to —"

"She thought she could tame you into something useful and obedient," you gently interrupt. "She tried to manipulate and control you for her benefit, then punished you for following her orders. Now, she'll think twice before daring to raise a hand against my prince."

Your eyes shift down, gold meeting blue. You gently brush your knuckle against his cheek, and his irises shift into that beautiful shade of blood red you adore — the shade that runs from nostrils and beads out of thin cuts. The shade that looks best splattered against the snow. The shade of ink you used to sign your marriage contract centuries ago.

"You are powerless for now," you murmur, "which gives humans a false sense of confidence. They think themselves superior to you because you do not have your trident, because you do not have your freedom, and because the only damage you can deal is currently limited to the strength of your vessel. I will not let that stand, Abaddon."

You take hold of his arms and guide him upright so you can look at each other on even ground.

"I will not let you think you're a failure anymore."

Your husband's gaze is unwavering. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, like he can't believe you're really here, like he'll die if his eyes turn elsewhere. He pulls you into a crushing hug the next time Katherine howls in agony, burying his face in your neck. You resume easing your fingers gently through his hair, making sure not to snag or tug on any tangles to cause him pain.

He has endured more than enough.

When the timer beeps to signal the end of her punishment, the shackle snaps open and hits the floor with a sharp thud. Katherine crawls away from it with her chest heaving for oxygen, throat and eyes burning from how hard she'd been screaming out, and practically throws her body at the door to get out of the attic.

Gasping and still letting out small, hitching sobs, she finds the first available unoccupied guest room and throws on the light switch, ignoring the sound of seams ripping as she yanks up her sleeve to assess the damage. How much time will she have to get to a hospital before she needs to have the limb amputated? Is there even any skin left for her to look at? Is it all just burnt muscle and bone? What's she supposed to tell the kids in the morning?

It looks... fine.

Her arm is completely spotless. There's no evidence she'd ever been in pain to begin with. In fact, her torment had ended the very second the timer went off. There was no lingering sting, no burns, not even any ligature marks from how hard she'd been pulling against the cuff the whole time. The only evidence she'd suffered at all was the rawness of her throat from screaming, and her own memory.

Katherine stares at her arm for a long time, enough so that by the time she stumbles out of the room, she can see the beginnings of dawn creeping over the horizon.

Chapter Text

Abaddon silently rolls over in his nest, which consists of a collection of fabrics, papers, and other miscellaneous items he'd stolen from the hotel and tucked away in a hidden room not even the ghosts knew about, and watches you sleep.

His private room is fairly small, about the size of a closet, so you don't have the space to shift back into your full, demonic form. You're still in your human disguise for the most part, but your tails are peaking out from under your dress and your horns are out. If he glances under your collar, he can see a second mouth there, too. Every so often, you sigh out a puff of smoke, filling the room with the scent of brimstone and sulfur he's missed for three hundred years.

A scent he's missed for billions upon billions of years, truly. Sending himself back to the beginning of Time just to save the lives of the Freelings over one hundred times had ultimately been worth it, but those dark, quiet millennia spent sitting in the void of space, waiting for the creation of stars and planets and solar systems to form around him so that Life could begin and he could start wandering the earth again, were the times when he missed you the most.

He wouldn't have been lonely with you there. He wouldn't have been bored out of his mind with you there. He wouldn't have started brushing against the edge of insanity in time with the weakening of his resolve with you there.

Abaddon's thoughts pop like bubbles as one of your tails pokes his wrist, wrapping firmly around it in your sleep. Your expression is serene and your body grows more lax as you slip further into Dreamland.

He lifts his other hand to brush against the triangular edge of it, thumbing against the fiendishly hot skin. It singes against his vessel and gives him so much nostalgia for Hell that it makes him breathless for a moment.

But it isn't Hell he misses. He was a simple Wrathman who ascended to a royal consort status, which is a legendary feat, but Abaddon was not respected. His titles were earned, but hardly acknowledged among his peers and subjects. He was a master torturer with no one to worship his accolades, no demonic companions to convene with or allied bonds to strengthen, but his wife. An eternity away, stuck in the body from a mission he was orchestrated to fail at the start, has made him realize that he doesn't need anyone else.

He doesn't need to go back home, because his home is you.

Abaddon shuffles closer and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, burying his face in your hair and letting your scent flood his senses.

Very rarely does he take the time to sleep. It's often dreamless, too reminiscent of the darkness and silence of space before anything existed, for him to feel comfortable enduring it. But here, your heated body in his arms and surrounded by your presence, he drifts off with your smile in his mind.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Abby, hey Wifey!"

Your eyes dart to Esther as you stroll into her room, heading to her closet to pilfer a new change of clothes. Abaddon follows right after you, skittering up the child's bed to peer at what spell she's currently working on. There are an absurd amount of candles piled up on her pillows, some of them with carvings and some of them bare, and an open jar of pig blood she's using to paint sigils into a large piece of paper.

"Hello, child," you reply, sifting through your options with a critical eye. "The garment adorning my body is not built for excessive activity. I need a replacement and your proportions are closest to mine in this form."

Esther grimaces, glancing between you and Abaddon as he snatches the paintbrush from her to correct a symbol.

"Ew. No offense, princess, but I don't need to hear about that kinda junk."

You furrow your brow, glancing at her over your shoulder. "Do you not engage in the same with my husband?"

"WHAT!?" She cries, looking like she might throw up. She almost spills the jar of blood waving her hands about. Abaddon snatches it up and takes a sip as he keeps painting sigils, completely taking over the work for her spell. "No!!"

"Yes you do," he mutters, lips coated in liquid ruby. "Just last week we fought off a river monster. You needed your inhaler once we achieved victory. Is that not excessive activity?"

"Oh," she says, rubbing a hand down her face. "That's what you were talking about. Okay, yeah. I have a jumpsuit in the back of the closet I'm just a little too tall for; that should be sturdy enough for exploring and fighting monsters and junk."

Abaddon puts the paint brush down and looks at Esther curiously. "What did you think she meant?" He asks.

"She believed we were having se—"

"LALALALAAA, OKAY PLEASE DON'T SAY IT," Esther cries, clapping her hands over her ears. You grin, plucking out the dark green jumpsuit and retreating to Esther's bathroom. The dress is removed and discarded on the floor to be cleaned later, but you hold on to the headband since it's good at keeping your hair out of your eyes.

Minutes later, when you reemerge, everything in the bedroom is floating around the runic symbols Esther and Abaddon made. They're giggling about it together, which makes you smile, and you purposely step into the spell's orbit to let it pull you off the ground.

"Not bad for a human," you state, "the magic in the air is consistent and well-intentioned. You are a promising witch in the making."

Abaddon looks to Esther in pride. "It's just as I've said previously. I wouldn't bother teaching you Latin if I thought you couldn't do anything with it."

The human girl hems and haws a little bashfully, clearly unused to praise, and snatches a floating book out of the air to fidget with.

"S'just a simple anti-gravity charm. Nothing to write home about," she mutters into the pages of the book she's definitely not reading. The damn thing is upside down.

"Would you like to make an entire anti-gravity field?" You ask, floating closer to her and Abaddon. Your husband reaches out a hand to you and you take it, allowing him to pull you down onto the bed with them. "We can make a permanent one with enough yarrow root and pixie dust."

Esther looks extremely interested, but she heaves a big sigh and shakes her head.

"Mom would freak if I did something to scare any guests away," she says, "and a big no-gravity zone would probably do it."

You roll your eyes, but don't press. A princess you may be, but a mother you are not, and you are disinterested in the dynamics between parent and child. You're only eleven thousand, after all, and your mother is still the host of Greed. You have plenty of time to worry about raising an heir.

"Fine. Would you like to know how to duplicate your wealth instead?"

"I CAN DOUBLE MY ALLOWANCE?" Esther shouts, way more excited about money than defying the laws of nature. That's exactly the kind of attitude you love to abuse in a sinner. Her gusto makes you very happy indeed. "Show me show me show me show me show me show me —"

"Alright," you nod, "it won't take long. We'll keep the spell relatively simple, just for duplicating one piece of currency at a time. Fetch a bare candle and whatever bill you want to replicate for me."

--

Esther's cool, you decide. After she masters the money duplication spell ("I can't believe your wife taught me how to do financial fraud, Abaddon. She's so awesome!"), you demand that she share something in exchange, and she brings you the Glade to show you her stash of ancient artifacts Katherine forbade being brought into the hotel.

"Oh, I can tell Rabisu has been here before," you scoff, picking up a glittering, blue jewel half-buried in the ground, with a rat's eye embedded in the center. "This is one of his locust callers. He leaves these stupid things all over the place."

"A locust caller? So I can use it to summon a bunch of them, like a plague??" Esther asks, peering over your shoulder to look at it. Her eyes glaze over a little when she makes eye contact and she starts to reach for it like a zombie. You pocket the jewel, and she blinks for a few seconds to clear her head. "Whoa. Nevermind, you keep that one."

She draws away from you to root through her other treasures, happy to show them off and talk extensively about how she acquired each one. You correct her when she misidentifies an item or two, and she nods and makes careful note of your words. Her easy acceptance of your superior knowledge base pleases you. She and Ben have had little trouble recognizing you as a superior figure, which you clearly are. Katherine has some work to do, but you're confident she'll come around eventually once she understands that you truly mean the Freelings no harm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Abaddon pulling something small from Esther's stash and stuff it in his pocket. You don't call him out on it because you're not a narc.

When she's rooted through everything outside, Esther claps the dirt off her hands and declares she's hungry. You don't need to eat, being an immortal demonic entity, but you do enjoy the act of consuming both human delicacies and damned souls alike, so you acquiesce to the change of plans and allow her to lead the way back towards the Undervale. Abaddon falls into step beside you, and he presses the item he took into your palm.

You look down. It's a golden ring, like the kind mortals exchange for marriage. The outside of the band is plain and dirty from being embedded in the grass, but the inside has a message hastily etched into it in Infernal, one that condemns the wearer to a life of impoverishment, constant danger, and unending rage.

In Hell, everything is opposite. It's a call for prosperity, safety, and joy.

Oh, how you love him.

When you reach the lobby, Esther rushes ahead to the kitchen so she can raid the pantry before Katherine can get in there and scold her for spoiling her appetite for dinner. You hang back with Abaddon, grasping his elbow to stop him, and he turns to you with a mischievous grin.

"I told you," he says, "Esther is entertaining company. Her penchant for chaos could rival a hellborn imp."

You don't respond. Instead, you drop to one knee in front of him, your hand on his elbow sliding down to his palm.

The grin is gone. Abaddon looks at you in obvious confusion. It's indecent for a royal to ever stoop as low as you are, and you can feel the wrongness of it curling around your spine. You ignore it to slip the ring on his fourth finger, thumbing some dirt away from the band.

"It's for you?" Abaddon says, dumbfounded, but his eyes are wide and shifting to red from the swell of emotion within him.

"It's for you," you reply. "My gift is having my husband at his rightful place by my side again."

Abaddon makes a complicated expression and turns his head, hiding behind his hair. You can just make out the tip of his nose in profile. Shame does not suit him.

"If I had my powers," he mutters, "I would bump tails and thrash you around with my arms in celebration. I cannot do that anymore."

"Says who?" You ask. Abaddon peeks at you sidelong, automatically reaching out to help you on your feet when you start getting up. "You have two arms right now, as do I. You have fingers that clasp and muscles that contract at your will. We are equals in this state, my prince."

"..."

"..."

"...oh."

When Esther comes back to the lobby carrying a bunch of snacks to share, she finds Abaddon throwing you into different pieces of furniture, coming to retrieve your body, then repeating the same process. Every so often, you get up and grab him to do it, too, just with much more force because you have all of your powers. You're both bleeding everywhere. His body absolutely demolishes a little side table as he you throw him into it, sending wood splinters and the bowl of fruit on it everywhere.

"Me next!!" She shouts, already dropping her spoils to grab Abaddon by the ankles. She's got a decent amount of strength in her human body, so she hauls him into the sofa and makes it tip precariously for a moment while your husband laughs in utter delight. You like that Esther doesn't ask too many questions; she just joins in on the fun where she can. It's no wonder why she became one of Abaddon's favorites.

"You next, indeed," you grin, approaching her with your arms reaching. She has never looked so eager to do anything in the couple days you've been here so far.

"Just don't crush my ribs. I'm ready." She spreads her arms out wide and closes her eyes as though succumbing to possession. Your instincts urge you to accept the nonverbal invitation, but you simply pick her up and toss her towards the front desk. Esther squeaks with joy, collides face-first with the rack of room keys and sends them all rattling with an ough, then hits the floor. "I'm okay! Hey — my final baby tooth popped out!"

A hand appears above the counter, one bloody tooth grasped in saliva-slick fingers. You already know what's about to happen next.

"DIBS!!" Abaddon shouts, scrambling to his feet and diving over the desk after Esther. She cries out when he lands on her, but just starts laughing afterwards and relinquishes her tooth. "Got it!"

You snicker, plucking a bottle of Danimals out of the abandoned snack pile, and watch Abaddon get thrown against the elevator doors.

Chapter Text

"Specter."

Nathan startles awake, phasing through his lounge chair and landing on the floor with a grunt. You stare down at him in another one of Esther's old outfits: a plain, brown t-shirt and long, black skirt. Your braid is undone, so your hair is slightly dragging against the carpet, and your hands and feet are stained with what he hopes is red paint but knows is not.

"Your highness!" He chirps, pushing himself upright. "How's it goin'?"

"I am prospering," you reply.

Nathan smiles at you. You stare back. He blinks. You blink back.

"I'm also doing good!" He says.

"I didn't ask."

He nods, standing up the rest of the way. "Yeah, you and Abaddon are perfect for each other... Anyway, how can I help you?"

You smile at his comment, resting a hand on your hip. "That's why I'm here. Abaddon views you favorably and I intend to experience the good things he's mentioned for myself."

You raise both arms up and make grabby hands.

"I demand a pig's ride on your back."

"Oh, kiddo," Nathan says, quickly backpedaling when you scowl at him. "I mean, princess...I'd love to give you one, but you said it yourself. I'm just a ghost. I-I can't interact with you anymore."

He grimaces and rubs his right arm with his left hand, a pattern you've observed in Benjamin. Interesting.

"I can't interact with anything anymore..."

You groan and roll your eyes. "Of course you can, now quit complaining and lift me."

"Princess," Nathan says, shooting you a wounded look, "if this is a joke or your way of tormenting me, I really don't appreciate it."

"What? Why would I do that? You've done nothing to warrant any torture and you are not a sinner in mine or my husband's territory." You look at him like he's said the dumbest thing on the planet, arms still raised expectantly. "Lift me immediately."

"I don't know what you're expecting of me!"

"Am I speaking in tongues? You. Hands. My body. Up. In the air. Pick. Me. Up."

"I'm a ghost, lady!" Nathan exclaims, waving his arms as he walks towards you. "I don't know what's not clicking! I can't just bend down and scoop you up like — like..."

He balks as he processes the fact that he just picked you up off the ground, one hand supporting your legs while the other supports your back. Your arms wrap around his neck as you smile at him smugly, and you swing your feet a little.

"I'm holding you," he says, incredulous. Excitement blooms on his face and he beams at you with a loud laugh. "I'm actually holding you up!! I can't believe it! How did you do that!? How am I doing that? What's going on??"

"Ghosts have power over demons, Nathan Freeling," you state, as though casually commenting on the weather and not absolutely blowing his mind right now. "The only reason you cannot do this to Abaddon is because the majority of his demonic essence has been sealed off. Once he is freed, you'll be more than capable of backing a pig for him again."

You press your hands against his shoulders and squirm out of his arms. He can feel you squirming out of his arms, the heat of a living body and the weight of you. Nathan quickly supports your legs as you move around to his back, resting your chin on top of his head as though he were still a solid person. He knows he missed having physical contact with his family, but now that he's capable of it again, it's pretty difficult not to start bawling like a child.

"Mush!" You cry. "Onward! I demand a lap around the property line!"

Nathan lets out a wet chuckle, eyes watering, and heads for the door.

"I can do that, your highness," he grins. "Hey, let's maybe work on saying please and thank you?"

"Does a god ask permission from his believers to perform miracles?"

"Okay, solid point. Let's go!"

Chapter Text

There are five little holes surrounding Abaddon in the typical shape of a pentagram when Katherine finds him in the yard. She's hauling the trash bin to the edge of the driveway for the garbage truck to come take it tomorrow morning, its plastic wheels ricketing loudly against the gravel and drawing his attention.

"Matriarch," he greets, pulling out the accumulated allowance he'd been stashing and shaking most of the dirt off. He climbs to his feet and presses a fist to his chest with a solemn expression. "I require a trip to town. I vow not to shriek and shatter your windshield again if you comply."

"What do you need to go to town for?" She asks, leaning against the trash bin with thinly-veiled annoyance. "And with a small stack of cash, for which you have zero monetary understanding?"

"My anniversary draws near. In just two days I will be celebrating the six hundred and sixty-sixth year of unholy matrimony with my perfect, incredible, amazing, spectacular, impressive, wonderful, magnificent —"

"Sometime today, Abaddon."

" — wife." He glares at her but there's little heat behind it. "I have things to prepare that aren't available here. You must bring me to Midwich to claim what I need."

"Uh huh. Like what?"

"I will need many things. Gumballs. A gallon of eggs. Bullets. The vestment of a condemned priest. One and a half gallons of egg yolks —"

"Wait, so you need two and a half cartons of eggs?"

"No?" Abaddon scoffs. "One gallon of eggs. One and a half gallons of egg yolks. Pay attention. I will also need some fresh kills, but I can hunt birds on the property. More virgin blood, which again, I can retrieve from your son..."

"Stop bloodletting Ben! He doesn't like it!"

--

It takes tremendous convincing and a promise not to leave dead animals as offerings in front of her bedroom door anymore, but Katherine finally gives in and agrees to take Abaddon into town to purchase some supplies for his anniversary. In the months since the snow globe incident, he's actually accumulated quite a sum of money despite how little an allowance she's given him; it's enough to get most of what he's described to her so far, and what he can't afford she can just supplement with your generous financial gift to get the rest.

The townspeople are less than pleased to see Abaddon walking around with Katherine. At one point she has to drag him into a thrift shop and force him to change so he'd stop getting recognized as "that pilgrim boy that stands on my dining room table and eats the dirt from my garden."

"Is this one good?" Katherine asks, holding up the fifth religious outfit she's found in the store with rapidly thinning patience. Abaddon, now wearing a blue, graphic t-shirt with Minecraft Steve on it, the baggiest, most ripped up jeans she's ever seen, and light-up Sketchers, sniffs the garment in her hands and frowns.

"Close, but no. The priest who wore those is likely in Purgatory, not fully condemned."

"How can you even tell? What if multiple priests wore the same one?"

"Wouldn't matter as long as one of them ended up damned, which surprises me that we haven't found a thing yet. This is usually much easier pickings; the holy men in this town are surprisingly diligent about following the word of G—" he gags, a thin line of blood running down his nose. Abaddon wipes it away. "Anyway, this would go by faster if you simply allowed me to root through the clothes on my own."

"You can't climb in the clothing racks. You'll knock a bunch to the floor and tear them all apart when you get stuck on something," Katherine says, hanging the vestments back up. "We do this by checking one at a time, or not at all."

Abaddon mutters curses under his breath in a language she can't understand, but he doesn't try to run into the rack, so it's still a win. Katherine reaches out to grab another set, but someone else offers one to her.

"Here, check this."

"Oh." She lifts her head and makes eye contact with the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. She's tall, even without the heels she's got on, and wearing a wine red dress. Her long hair is intricately braided back and out of her face, and her eyes are lidded in amusement. "Thank y— thank, uh...thanks...wow."

The woman smiles sweetly, her nose scrunching a little as she giggles. "You're welcome, Katherine. I'll be going, now."

She draws back and runs a hand through Abaddon's hair, then turns and walks out of the store without a single glance back. Abaddon watches her go with a big grin.

"How did she know my name?" Katherine mumbles aloud, watching her vanish amongst the crowd.

"That was my wife."

"Oh," Katherine says, then whips her head around to stare incredulously at Abaddon. "WHAT."

"Yeah, you didn't recognize her? The bracelet Esther made for her doesn't lock my beloved into one form; she can make herself look however she wants." He brushes his hand approvingly along the vestments you handed her. "This is ideal. Go purchase this one."

"Can we go back to your wife just strolling through town??" Katherine says. "Why's she here without a chaperone? Why did she make herself look like an adult? What's she doing? I can't have the police asking me about two demon children doing property damage."

"I imagine she's making her own preparations." Abaddon grabs the clothing after the cashier bags up her purchase, dragging it with him out the doors. "I am almost ready. The last thing I require is yogurt."

"For your anniversary, or just to have?"

"..."

Katherine sighs. "Fine. You can buy one pack."

Abaddon pumps his free hand in the air victoriously. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

--

It doesn't take long to track down your husband. You noticed it immediately when he left hotel property in that strange, electric carriage, and allowed yourself to slip into a smaller version of your true form as you followed him and Katherine into town. You stuck to shadowy places and blended in well with the scenery so as not to alert anyone to your presence, keeping a careful distance for observation.

Abaddon noticed you immediately as he was freed from his booster seat, smirking at the shadow of the alleyway you were blending into, before following after Katherine and rattling off the list of things he needed her to fetch. His competency makes you a little flustered, and you lose him for a minute as you spend time getting it together.

You decide to shift into an adult's form, stealing a dress and shoes from the thrift shop. Based on the eavesdropping you did, your husband has the ritualistic materials handled for your anniversary, so you take your time learning the spiritual lay of the land and getting a sense for what sins run most prevalent across the town.

Not a lot of Greed exists here, which is disappointing, but Abaddon has done a fantastic job sowing Wrath as per his natural instinct. There's plenty of shops and weak-willed humans around to manipulate, so you aren't concerned, but you can get to that later. Right now, you want to contribute to his nest, add your own touches to it so it feels more like a shared space.

You've just finished exploring half of Midwich when you come across exactly what you want, staring at the building with wide eyes and a bright smile.

"Perfect..." You murmur, admiring the establishment openly. It's gorgeous. It's stunning. It's, dare you admit, divine.

"Uh, lady," a bypasser says, frowning at you as he crosses the street, "that's a funeral home."

"I know," you purr, strolling through the doors with a flourish. Heads turn in shock as you waltz in like you own the place. You ignore the viewing you've just crashed and all the grieving people huddled around a body you don't care for, marching straight up to a staff member and gripping his shoulders with visible delight.

"I need to bury two children!"

Chapter Text

"Preparations are almost complete, my love. Our anniversary draws near."

Abaddon smiles. He'd look at you, but you're currently lathering shampoo in his hair and he's done this enough times to know that that burns, now, and not in the pleasant way.

When Katherine mentioned his smell was getting bad again, you offered to bathe your husband yourself, and Abaddon had consented without a single ounce of resistance. It had royally pissed both her and Nathan off, the humans obviously having struggled countlessly to get the demon to do anything even remotely related to upkeeping personal hygiene. Even now, you can hear the ghost in the hall lamenting about all the bribery and tricking and salt-laying he'd had to do when he was alive to get Abaddon any semblance of clean.

The anger and indignancy in the air is feeding into your husband's instincts, leaving him sated and nearly purring as you sit together in the bath tub in your own, childish form. His contentment settles you, too, the both of you nearly blissful in the piping hot water scalding your bodies. It isn't anything close to the boiling lava pits in Hell, but it's an approximate second. Humans and their delicate constitutions have left your accommodations much cozier than a demon might want.

"Are you excited to regain your power?"

His smile suddenly gets a little tight, which surprises you enough to stop lathering. Honestly, there's a ridiculous amount of soap on his head, so you probably should've stopped minutes ago. There are bubbles absolutely everywhere. Even on the floor. The next person to enter this room is going to slip and fall on their ass for sure.

"Abaddon?"

"Having my powers back would be soooo great," he says. "Just the greatest. The best. I just...um..."

You drop your hands entirely and shoot him a curious look. He's behaving strangely, a little like your first day here when he was telling you about his time trapped on Earth. Most of his story was pretty cut and dry, but he got weird and his sentences became stilted when the Freelings came into the picture, like he was picking and choosing very specific words to relay to you. He's being that same amount of weird again now.

"You just...?" You prompt.

"Well. You know how I basically beat up a bunch of cultists because I blblblblblbl..." Abaddon sinks under the water, any ramblings lost once he's fully submerged. You stare at him without amusement.

"Arise," you demand. "Speak plainly, beloved."

He does not move. You shove bubbles aside until you can clearly see him and jab a finger in his direction.

"Even waterlogged, you are not deaf! Arise!"

Abaddon stubbornly remains in place. You feel your patience waning by the second.

"I will unleash a wail strong enough to shatter every eardrum in one hundred miles! DO NOT TEST ME AND ARISE."

"I do not wish to kickstart the apocalypse!"

You blink water out of your eyes and push your hair out of your face. He'd sat up so fast that he splashed it everywhere, red-faced and fists clenched at his sides.

You wear your confusion plainly as you speak. "But you are the Herald of the Apocalypse; even before our marriage, that was your title. You are the fallen angel Apollyon, the Destroyer of Man and one of the Trumpets who will sing to signal the End Times."

You shift closer, water sloshing with your movement, and lower your head to try to catch his eyes. Abaddon will not look back.

"What is the meaning of this? Why do you keep secrets from me?"

"You would not accept my reasons," he murmurs, catching you off-guard.

"Accept them? I cannot accept what I don't know, Abaddon."

"And I would relish telling you," he insists, "if I thought they'd be well-received."

You shake your head, incredulous. "I cannot receive anything not told to me! We are speaking in circles!"

"I do not wish to say!" Abaddon says, chin jutting up stubbornly as he crosses his arms. It looks a little silly because you're both still covered in Strawberry Shortcake bubble bath — which does not taste like strawberries, you were angry to find. "Is it not enough to simply tell you that I do not want to fulfill my destiny right now?"

"...no? It's not??" You admit. "It's your destiny! It is Hell on Earth! Why would you forsake it?"

Abaddon finally looks at you, then. He appears tired. He appears secretive. You do not understand, but you desperately want to. This strangeness, this gap between you, is new and fundamentally uncomfortable. His heart is yours, and your heart is his. His wrath, his greed, his lust, his gluttony, his sloth, his pride, his envy — all of it is yours, and vice versa.

Why aren't his secrets meant to be yours, too?

"Do you...do you not trust me, Abaddon?" You ask, and his hesitance feels like a lance straight through your chest.

Something in your face must have changed, because he's sitting up straighter and reaching out to take your hands, trying desperately to reassure you when your entire world has just tilted on its axis.

"Trust isn't the problem," he insists, but the rest of his words don't reach you. They curl around your head like static, unable to penetrate the sudden fog over your mind.

Your husband doesn't trust you. Your husband doesn't trust you. Your husband doesn't trust you.

That really pisses you off.

"Mother urged me to remarry after the first decade of your absence," you blurt, interrupting his pathetic excuse for reconciliation. "She said you'd abandoned me, that you couldn't handle your new role as a Prince and fled to Earth to be rid of me."

The silence is thick enough to slice with a talon. Abaddon's expression is haunted, shocked mute by your statement.

"I refused her. Insisted you loved me. That you would do anything to come back home and reclaim your throne next to mine."

Your eyes are burning. Despite the steam rising off of the water, your body feels like it's been dunked in ice. You can no longer feel his hands interlaced with your own.

"You cannot go back in this vessel. This prison. Yet when I've come to collect you, to restore you to your former glory as is written, you would refuse?"

"I...have benefits here that are currently better than Hell. The Freelings —"

"You would scorn my help and choose to suffer in this body," You snap, "for the Freelings!? Those pathetic humans are going to be around for a century, at most! That's NOTHING! They are NOTHING compared to you! Compared to me!!"

"I didn't say it right," Abaddon stammers, trying to draw you closer for an embrace. You yank your hands back and stand, water spilling around you in angry waves. "My beloved —"

"My love did not waver," you growl, arms and legs trembling like jell-o, "my trust did not weaken. And like a fool, I believed that once we gathered the materials needed to incite the apocalypse and restore your powers, you would collect your stupid, human pets and come home with me."

You can't see Abaddon clearly anymore. Despite not being submerged in the tub, there is water pouring from your eyes. You do not understand.

"Why did you bestow me with false hope, like the sinners we once tortured?"

"It isn't false hope! It just won't work out the way you thought!"

"THAT'S FALSE HOPE!"

He reaches for you again, and you swat his hand away, climbing out of the bath and grabbing your dress. "Come back! I'll tell you why! I'll tell you everything —"

"Keep your damned secrets," you snarl, eyes flashing gold and voice rattling the floor. "Keep your damned body. Keep the new life you've carved for yourself, since you clearly had no intention of coming back to your wife."

"That's not true!" Abaddon insists. You yank your dress on despite the soap and water still drenching your body and slam open the door, startling the Freelings who quickly pretended not to have been eavesdropping. "Come back!"

You ignore his calls and stomp your way to the front doors, throwing them open and making your way into the forest. Even long after your exit from the bath, water continues dripping down your eyes.

"MY PRINCESS! MY LOVE!" Abaddon bellows, voice barely audible the further you go. "COME BACK!"

Chapter Text

No one can find you for the rest of the day, in or outside the hotel, despite constant searching. The only reason they know you're still on Earth is because Abaddon didn't sense another hellmouth open up to signal your disappearance. No amount of calling, coaxing, bribing, or otherwise has yielded results, but your husband isn't intent on giving up. Not when this is the first he's seen you in an eternity. Not while he can still make it right.

You are somewhere on the property. This means that hope is not lost. He still has a chance to plead his case and fix things with you.

"Abaddon, we've been out here for hours," Ben whines, hood drawn up on his jacket and his shoes covered in dirt and mud from all the trecking around. "It's getting dark. Can we go back to the hotel and try this again in the morning?"

He hunches as he walks, peering nervously left and right.

"Y'know...when the sun's out and it's way less spooky?"

"I can see perfectly fine," Abaddon says. "Go back if you're done helping me."

"C'mon, that's not fair. Of course we wanna help you find your wife —"

"Then quit talking and use your damn eyes!" He snaps, eyes blazing red. His ire this time is genuine, not just the typical irritation or annoyance Abaddon will feel from shenanigans gone wrong or getting scolded by Katherine. Ben's steps falter in surprise, and the demon quickly cools off.

"I didn't... that's not..." He mumbles. "Your fear was not my goal."

He startles when Ben's hand lands on his shoulder, expression soft.

"I forgive you, Abby," he says. "You seem really wound up. Have you never argued with her before?"

Abaddon shakes his head. "We've existed in matrimonial bliss for centuries. I do not know how to resolve conflict. That's kinda the exact opposite of what a demon does."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm somewhat of an expert in conflict!" Ben perks up and points a thumb at himself, boastful and smug. "Annabelle and I are fighting all the time!"

"Is that something worth bragging about?"

"Which means that we're resolving those fights all the time," Ben stubbornly continues, now through grit teeth, "which is the mark of a very healthy relationship, thank you!"

He lets out a deep breath, gets down on Abaddon's level, and puts both hands on his shoulders, making sure he has the demon's full attention.

"I think," he says, as earnestly as he can, "the best thing to do right now is to give her time to cool off."

"Nothing can burn her here, and if she'd set a fire we would have located her by now."

Ben sighs. "Right, you don't do figures of speech. I mean the best move to make is to give her some personal space. Let her have some alone time to be less mad at you and come try to find her again in the morning. You can take the time to figure out a way to talk to her, and maybe by tomorrow she'll be more open to receiving an apology!"

Abaddon hesitates. He looks over his shoulder into the deeper part of the woods, wanting desperately to keep searching for you, but Ben might actually be right for once. Maybe you don't want to be found right now. Maybe you'll want to hear what he has to say if he spends the night thinking about what to tell you. Maybe he'll have to be...eugh...patient.

"Fine," he scowls, "we will return for the night."

"Thank you, Abaddon," Ben says, visibly relieved, and quickly texts the others to head back. "You're, uh, gonna have to lead the way because I have no idea where we are."

Abaddon groans loudly and grabs Ben's hand, steering him in the direction of the Undervale.

--

The family reconvenes in the kitchen for a late dinner, having put it off to search for you. Esther digs into some leftover pizza, Nathan watches with blatant longing, Ben nibbles on some salad, and Katherine is watching Abaddon pull out the batteries to the smoke detector to eat them again.

"You really have no clue where she is?" She asks, watching him drop from the ceiling once he's consumed his prize.

"She's on the property, but I don't have enough power to pinpoint where." Abaddon wipes the excess battery acid off his mouth and heads to the cabinet under the kitchen sink, intent on climbing in there to sulk and think for a while.

Katherine watches him go, pity on her face. When they're done eating, she sends the kids to bed and stays behind to lock up the hotel for the night, eager to take her mind off of the drama Abaddon's dumped on their laps yet again.

She sweeps the floors, locks the doors, takes another crack at the bleeding mirror in the lobby, and feeds Jessica all in record time. It's settling in to be a nice evening, but as she changes into bedclothes and climbs under the covers to doze off to reruns of Days of Our Lives, sleep refuses to claim her. Katherine ends up staring at the ceiling, counting sheep, and channel surfing for an hour before kicking the blankets back off, defeated.

"Dammit," she hisses, shoving her feet into a pair of slippers and shuffling into the hallway. Randy, who refuses to quit spying on her every time she does yoga, quickly runs through a wall and disappears like he wasn't in the middle of watching her try to rest. She elects to put a pin in that for now and makes her way back to the kitchen, kneeling next to Abaddon's cabinet and gently knocking on the door.

Katherine hears some shuffling, but no response. She knocks again, only to be ignored outright, so she opens the door herself and braces for any scratching and yelling, but there's nothing. Not even a hiss or half-hearted muttering in Latin.

With the sight before her, it's incredibly hard not to think of Abaddon as a small child. He's got his back to her and he's curled up in fetal position on top of a pile of stolen objects (the Connect 4 box, a busted blender, more of her damn earrings...), and his arms are wrapped around his waist in a poor facsimile of a hug. It's pitiful.

"Oh, Abaddon..." She sighs, "you really miss her, huh?"

He clings to himself even tighter, white-knuckling the fabric of his vessel's blouse. Katherine wonders if she's making things worse by trying to talk to him about it. She's seconds from excusing herself to go back to bed when he sits up. He turns his head and regards her with a frown and watery, crimson irises.

"I haven't seen her in countless years," he whispers. "Every time I went back to the beginning to save your family, it was with the understanding that it would be even longer spent apart from her, and I did it anyway."

Abaddon hugs his knees to his chest, staring unseeingly past Katherine as his memories float to the front of his mind.

"It was easier to do because I already hadn't seen her since I was first ordered to Earth. But now..."

Katherine watches him reach for something buried under his nest and pull it out. It's the huge, ancient artifact he'd dug up with Esther right before he beat up those cultists, covered in what look to be Mayan symbols and runes and making her extremely uncomfortable when she looks at the face in the center. He traces the edge of it and watches the symbols briefly shimmer with golden light, there and gone again in a flash. She wonders if he loves or loathes the thing that made him relive all of Creation one hundred times.

"Now, I don't think I can go back anymore," he admits, "not when I've finally seen her again. Not when I'd have to say goodbye for another eternity."

He puts the dial down and presses his palms to his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"Katherine, I cannot properly convey to a mortal just how little and how much time matters to demons. A year is a blink. A century is a breath. Before I became tethered to this body, time was a suggestion to me. I did my job in Hell and I did it well enough to gain her attention, well enough to earn her hand. And I can't..."

Abaddon's body is trembling. Katherine has never seen him so distraught, even when he lost a really nice skull or got bit by Jessica or had to get put in a salt ring for time-out. She moves before the thought of doing so ever comes to her mind, wrapping her arms gently around his body and pulling him out of the cabinet to sit in her lap instead. His arms wind around her neck and he hides his face in her shoulder, the fabric of her pajama shirt quickly growing damp.

"I can't lose her again. I can't be apart from her now that I am reminded of how good it feels to be together once more. She only ran off hours ago, which is literally nothing to a demon, but I cannot bear it! I need her, I love her!"

"Oh, Abaddon," Katherine murmurs, running soothing circles up and down his back, "I'm sorry you're feeling this way, but if you can still sense her presence then that means it's not entirely hopeless, right? Can't she go back home whenever she wants?"

"Yes!" Abaddon sobs, and alright, that may have been the wrong thing to say. "She can choose to abandon me here like all the others any moment she pleases!"

"Then doesn't it mean something that she hasn't?"

The boy stills in her arms. She can almost feel the gears turning in his head and remains quiet so he has time to think. When he sits up, his eyes have shifted back to blue and there are some tear tracks on his cheeks. Katherine thumbs them away instinctively.

"She hasn't left me yet," he whispers to himself. "Despite our disagreement, she remains in this realm."

Katherine watches hope bloom on his face. The heaviness in her stomach lessens at the sight, and when he smiles at her she mirrors it back.

"She could have left the second I upset her, Katherine," he continues, building more excitement the longer he sits with that revelation. "She could have abandoned me immediately and she didn't! Nothing is keeping her here and yet she remains!"

"Well," Katherine chuckles, helping him wipe the last of his tears, "I wouldn't say nothing. Her husband is here, isn't he?"

Abaddon's expression softens. For a moment, she doesn't see a little boy, or an immature demon stuck in the body of a little boy. She sees a man in love.

"Yes," he says, then sits up straighter in her lap. "Yes, he is. And her husband is not going to waste time anymore!"

Abaddon stands and runs out of the room, the ring on his hand catching the moonlight from the window as he leaves Katherine still kneeling beside the sink. She reaches out to shut the door to the cabinet when she sees a little drawing taped to the back.

It's Abaddon and you, both in your human forms. You're holding each other's hands and smiling. Katherine knows Abaddon's childish art style, and this is not it; the lines are smoother and the colors are correct, which means he couldn't have done it.

You drew this for him.

As she closes the cupboard and rises to her feet again, Katherine knows that everything will be just fine. Every marriage has hurdles that need crossing, and even though her's and Ron's grew too high, she suspects it isn't the same for you.

Chapter Text

The monster in the lake next to the busted water mill is easy to dispatch. You wanted to hide in the water undisturbed and it wanted to rend the flesh from your bones, so naturally you defended yourself and claimed its territory. Several of the spirits in the vicinity ended up disappearing due to you finishing their business, the weight of your unintentionally good deed slithering down your spine and leaving you deeply uncomfortable. You shrugged it off and allowed the lake to swallow you whole, sinking slowly to the bottom with your hair flowing behind you like inky tendrils. You briefly wonder if Esther's enchanted bracelet would allow you to shift into an octopus. That'd be so sick.

You remain under the water as the hours drift by. Like a coward unable to process their feelings. Like something pathetic instead of a feared and respected Princess of Hell. Your mother would destroy you if she saw this pathetic display, but her opinion of you has always been secondary to your own wants and needs — that's what made you such a good fit to be her successor, after all. Right now, you want your husband. You've never fought with Abaddon before, and you greatly dislike it. You don't know how to move past it.

But you do. You want to get past this uncomfortable hitch in your marriage and continue existing in unholy matrimony. You'd likely be past this by now if you'd actually let Abaddon explain himself, but you were really angry at the moment and needed some time to deal with that! FUCK him for making you so upset in the first place! You should have gouged his eyes out as payback for making water leak out of yours!

You force yourself to calm. The lake around you is boiling with the force of your anger, and you are trying to remain undetected. If Abaddon finds you before you are ready to be found, you'll just be even angrier. Damn him. Damn him! How dare he scorn your help for a handful of mortals, one of which is already dead!

What does he even see in those pesky humans and their fleeting lifespans? So what if the specter is unfailingly kind and doting and he didn't want to put you down for hours after finding out he could hold you, overjoyed at the fact that he could finally show someone physical love and care? So what if the cowardly boy expressed genuine interest in your love story, complimented your clothes, and didn't actually shy away from any of the demented things you spoke of when holding a conversation with him? So what if the mother figure didn't rat you out for torturing her in the attic, didn't retaliate at all afterwards, and in fact started speaking kinder to Abaddon and setting another plate at the table for meals so you could sit next to him and feast with her family? So what if the little girl showed some of the most impressive natural talent and skill you've ever seen in a human before, has an excitement for adventure the likes of which could rival any demon, and not only celebrates but actively encourages yours and your husband's demonic natures, showing you a sense of welcome and openness you've never experienced from anyone else?

Oh, god dammit. The Freelings are awesome. No wonder Abaddon doesn't want to return to Hell.

You run your hands down your face and groan, bubbles escaping your throat. You watch them rise to the surface of the lake and pop, then close your eyes and allow the all-encompassing pressure of the water to overwhelm your senses and force you to relax. It's a nice, grounding sensation, ice-cold and soothing like a balm, where noise and all other activity cannot reach. Just you and several thousand tons of water bearing down on your human disguise down here.

You don't know how long you remain like that, but when you reopen your eyes, the sun has risen and there's a figure perched at the edge of the lake. You exhale another chain of bubbles, this time choosing to rise with them, and break the surface with a glare.

"Abaddon...I am —" you start, only to blink rapidly in surprise as your vision clears, Nathan sitting beside the water and grinning at you.

"Hey, your highness!" He chirps. "You know, you hide just like Abaddon when he needs somewhere quiet to think. I had a hunch that you would, and I'm glad I was right! We've all been worried sick about ya!"

You crawl out of the water, soaked to the bone and shivering instinctively as the fabric of your waterlogged dress clings to you like a second skin, and collapse on the grass beside him with a huff.

"Nothing can harm me in this realm," you state, then glance at him out of the corner of your eye. "...Abaddon worried for me?"

"Ohohooo, yeah," Nathan chuckles, reaching out to brush your bangs out of your face. "He made us all sweep the property for hours after you left! We only stopped because humans have to sleep at night. Esther's back home trying to cast a location spell to find you, Ben's searching the Glade, Kathy's double-checking the rooms in case you decided to stick around the hotel, and Abaddon is prowling around nearby."

You allow Nathan to rest a hand on your shoulder, turning to make proper eye contact with him as you drip dry on the riverbank. The sunshine is haloing his head, warmth kissing your face.

"Do ya think you'd be willing to hear him out, Princess?" He asks. His expression is soft and slightly pitying, but not in a way that makes you want to flay the meat off his skeleton and drown him in a tar pit. Instead, it almost comforts you. "I think Abaddon has something he needs to get off his chest."

You frown at the ghost and finally brush his hand away. "Who says I want to hear it?"

"I think you do, or you wouldn't have gotten out of the lake."

"I think you shouldn't presume to know what I think, lowly mortal."

"I think you don't mean that."

You scoff and roll onto your side, putting your back to Nathan, and cross your arms like the petulant child you disguised yourself to be. Nathan huffs out a soft laugh and starts picking seaweed and dirt from your long hair. Or, at least he tries; he can't touch the dirt itself but rather manipulates your hair around it to coax the debris free.

It's...soothing. It's exactly the kind of pampering you deserve and should expect, as a royal demoness. It's also paternal. By your nature, you do not have a dad, but if this is what it's like, you think you might like to.

Nathan doesn't try to make you speak. Rather, he fills the silence with simple statements and observations, little things to help the time pass. He compliments how long and soft your hair is, he tells you the story of how the beast in the lake nearly killed Ben a couple months ago, then praises you for killing the beast that nearly killed Ben a couple months ago, he laments his bygone taste buds and how the ghostly versions of food and drink just don't hit the spot like they should, and keeps going until long after your body has dried and your mood has calmed.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you sit up. Midday, you suspect. Nathan tried and failed to braid your hair, so he's just been letting the strands twirl around and through his incorporeal fingers for the better part of an hour, and you've just left him to it.

You're ready, now, though.

"Come, Abaddon," you call, facing the lake again. Nathan looks towards the water with confusion, only to startle when your husband steps out of the woods from behind, dragging a dead raccoon behind him. There's a smear of fresh blood on his mouth and it's staining his hands, but his blouse is remarkably clean. He's been getting better at controlled messes, splattering his ruin with intent instead of chaotically casting it about.

"Nathan," he says, "you should return to the hotel and call off the search."

"Yepperoni, can do." The ghost climbs to his feet and winks at the both of you, heading back towards the Undervale. "I'll just leave you cool cats to it! All by yourselves! So you can hash out your emotional strife! As a united couple! Who won't let one bad argument destroy centuries of love —"

"Nathan..." Abaddon growls.

"Okay, bye for real!" He calls with one more wave, vanishing through the foliage. Both you and Abaddon shake your heads. You catch his eye and fight the smile that wants to form on your face, facing the water again. You inch closer to the edge and stick your feet in, watching the surface ripple from the disturbance.

Quietly, Abaddon sits next to you and mimics your actions after he toes off his buckled shoes. He holds up the raccoon as a silent offering to you, and you shake your head. He tosses it in the water and the bloom of red against the pale blue is a very pleasing sight. It's a shame he can't fully appreciate it; all ichor-born demons are colorblind, even when they earn promotions and power.

For minutes, no one moves. He's waiting for you to speak first, but you have nothing to say. You are not the one hiding information, after all.

"Amica mea¹," he eventually mutters, brushing his hand against yours. You pull back and lace your fingers together in your lap. "Hmm. Mean, but fair. I would like to talk, now."

You exhale slowly through your nose, nodding to signal your willingness to listen.

"We've been apart for more than three hundred years."

"Abaddon..." You mumble, glaring at him out of your periphery. "You're getting semantic on me? What's the difference between "more than three hundred" and "exactly three hundred and fifteen" to you?"

"I am not being semantic," he insists, "it's been hundreds of billions of years. Trillions, maybe. I haven't been keeping an accurate count."

You pause. Squint. Tilt your head a little. Squint more.

"No?"

"Yes," he says, and he sounds exhausted. "For you, it has only been three hundred years, but for me, it's been longer than Hell has existed."

You face him, incredulous. Abaddon stares back at you like he won't get another chance. This time, when he reaches for your hand, you take it.

"Explain," you tell him, tone closer to a plea than a command.

He obeys anyway.

Chapter Text

It's dinnertime when you return to the Undervale, hand in hand with Abaddon and jaw set in determination.

"Freelings!" You bellow, marching into the kitchen. The humans all look to you with varying levels of relief and joy. It feels quite nice to've been missed. You like this weird, fuzzy sensation they stir inside you. It's like the fondness you have for your beloved, but different.

"Welcome back, Princess!" Esther says.

"Hi, your highness," Ben says.

"Hey," Katherine says, and gets up from her seat to grab another plate for you.

"Princess!" Nathan phases through the table and ruffles your hair. You allow this slight for a few seconds, then gently bat his hand away.

"I've come to make an announcement," you proclaim. To your delight, they all pause in what they were doing to give you their full attention. "The priest who bound Abaddon is a bitch-ass motherfucker, and he disrespected my fucking husband."

Silence. Tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The biggest grin on Esther's and Nathan's faces. Horror on Ben's. Exhaustion on Katherine's. Adoration on Abaddon's. You plow forward without restraint.

"That's right," you insist, "he took his ancient, fucking, stupid bible out, and he branded my fucking husband..." You hold out your hands, approximately chest-width apart. "And he said his cross was this big, and I said that's disgusting. So I'm making a call-out spell on the grounds of the Undervale —"

Katherine presses a hand over your mouth, silencing the dictation of your mighty revenge plans, and you glare at her.

"Try again," she says, "without the swearing. Please."

You scowl and toss some of your hair over your shoulder. It whacks her in the face, and she sputters a bit, but ultimately removes her hand and backs up again.

"I'm going to reincarnate the priest who bound Abaddon to his vessel," you declare, "siphon his blood to undo the binding ritual, and then drag his immortal soul to Hell where Abaddon and I can concoct a personal torture for him the likes of which have never been seen."

You clench your fist and grin with way too many teeth as your human form slips a little bit from excitement. "His suffering will become our magnum opus."

There's more silence. You were expecting applause, but it's fine. Maybe your vision was too ambitious in their feeble, mortal minds. You're happy to break it down with smaller words and visual aids until their excitement matches your own.

Ben raises his hand, catching your attention, and you direct your grin at him. He flinches back a little, but doesn't waver beyond that.

"Just a quick question, sorry," he says, rubbing his arm. "Didn't Abaddon beat up a bunch of cultists to...prevent this exact thing from happening already?"

"You remembered," Abaddon gasps, touched.

"In a sense," you nod. "Abaddon did that to postpone the apocalypse. I can restore his power without bringing on the end of the world as you currently know it. The ritual will just be modified a little."

"You can do that!?" Esther asks, leaning precariously out of her seat to look at you. She's got the appropriate amount of excitement on her face, which is why she's your favorite human in the bunch. "Will you show me!?"

"Do not teach my daughter how to give demons power," Katherine says firmly.

You roll your eyes. "It is a moderately harmless process. I won't even need virgin blood this time."

Ben looks relieved to hear that. Nathan lifts a brow.

"S'at mean you need un-virgin blood instead?" He asks.

You nod. These mortals are so smart. Everyone turns to look at Katherine, who rubs both hands down her face and seems to wish she were literally anywhere but here.

"No," she deadpans.

"Mooom, don't be lame!" Esther cries.

"C'mon, Kathy, you probably don't even need to give that much," says Nathan.

"I don't need your permission to take it," you mutter under your breath.

"I mean. If it's not gonna cause an apocalypse..." Ben sheepishly says.

Abaddon releases your hand and takes a few steps forward, giving Katherine his best pleading face. His eyes are big and round and his bottom lip is jutting out a little. Katherine tries to turn her head away from him but her eyes keep darting back, instinctively unable to ignore what appears to be an upset child right in front of her.

"You don't want to help free me?" He asks, voice pitched youthfully high and pathetic. "You want me to stay like this forever, Aunt Kathy?"

"Noo," Katherine says, but her voice doesn't have any of the sternness it does when she tries to put her foot down. "Don't do that! Don't use the aunt card, I'm not even really related to you!"

"You don't consider me part of the family, Aunt Kathy??" Abaddon whines, tears springing to his eyes on command just like Esther taught him.

Nathan falls for it immediately. His own ghostly eyes well with tears and he looks at his sister like she's just committed a murder right in front of him.

"My god, he's just a little boy, Kat!" Nathan sobs. "How could you do this to him!"

"I didn't do anything!!" Katherine insists, starting to panic now that she's being ganged up on.

"Exactly, mommy!" Esther suddenly sobs, clinging to her mother's back and wailing dramatically. "You won't do anything to help my baby cousin!"

Abaddon clings to Katherine from the front, wailing into her shirt, and Nathan grabs you into a hug to weep into your shoulder. Ben even starts tearing up for real, highly susceptible to emotional manipulation even when he knows he's being manipulated. He sniffles and wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

You stare at the scene unfazed, watching your husband and his best friend put on a whole show just to get consent to take some blood.

"Well, when you figure this out," you call, gesturing vaguely in Katherine's direction, "come retrieve me. I'll be making preparations for the ritual in the back yard." You look at Nathan, who's still hugging you. "Spirit me away."

Nathan sniffles and picks you up, one hand under your knees and the other supporting your back. You smile triumphantly and wave as he walks toward the door with you.