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Chapter Text

Under any other circumstances, Octavia would have been happy to see her father again. But, as he held her close and whispered praise into her ears, a cold anger began to overtake her body. It wasn’t like he’d been happy with her or mother; she’d seen the pills. All she was to him was some form of twisted obligation, which he cared for before running away to screw that imp boy-toy he seemed so obsessed over that he’d put his neck on the executioner’s block for that shithead. No. She wasn’t going to let him do this shit anymore. He’d promised change, but he’d stayed the same, hadn’t he?

She wriggled herself from his tight grip, trying to steel herself from the betrayal she would no doubt see. It did pain her, truly, but the rage boiling within her very body forced her to finally let it all out. As soon as Stolas’s embrace loosened on her, she pushed away with force. Seeing his face drop sent a jagged pain through her heart, but she steeled herself. It had to be this way.

“What the fuck, dad?!” She began, her voice low but still brimming with an anger she could not quench.

Stolas’s face twisted with confusion, but, for once, he didn’t reprimand her for saying a swear word. “Starfire, w-”

“Don’t you start,” She trembled, hardly containing the feeling. “Don’t you fucking start.”

She may as well have been a floodgate, holding in a primal tide of infinite anger. She didn’t want to let it all out, from the bottom of her heart; it was painful to see her father’s destitute look, but the right things in life often were the most painful choices to make.

“Every day, since I was born… you made me think that everything was normal. That your love was genuine, that you were with my mom. But that was all just a lie wasn’t it? Three times, dad. Three times you’ve broken a promise. You fucked up, and I gave you a chance. You did it again. You forgot about the stars. I gave you a chance. But now? Why? What was I to you, dad? What was I?”

Stolas’s upper lip trembled, but he still managed to maintain some semblance of composure. “Via, you’re my daughter. Of course I love you. I-”

“Is that so?! Then why did you lie about mother?”

“Because I wanted you to have a normal life, S-starfire.” He said, voice weak.

What a load of bullshit. Reaching down into her pocket, she drew out the bottle of anti-depressants. She’d denied their reason, but it became clear; he forced himself to be happy to put up this façade, only to drop it when the imp began boning him and then abandoned his family. Abandoned her.

“No more lies.” She tossed the cylinder to Stolas, who caught it, a look of surprise crossing his face. It quickly twisted, though, to fear, doubt, something resembling regret, and melancholy.

“Via, this isn’t-”

“What was I to you, then? Some kind of obligation?!” She snapped over him, taking a few steps away from her father. “Say it!”

“Starfire-”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” She yelled. “And don’t you dare take a single step forward! I’m sick and tired of all your bullshit. Just come out and say it! That I was only the object of your sick fantasies and bullshit position!”

“Via-”

“NO!” She screamed, and Stolas froze, his face a storm. Slowly though, tears began to spill. His shoulders heaved as he began crying uncontrollably. His boyfriend rushed over to comfort him, casting a brief stink-eye her way as he held her father as choked gasps escaped him irregularly. The other imps, and Loona for that matter, just stared at her with mixed expressions; confusion, anger, and concern. For the briefest of moments, Octavia felt a pang of guilt course through her chest. Her next question was slightly quieter.

“What was the point?”

“The-the point of wha-” He gasped between tears, waving his imp boyfriend-Blitz, wasn’t it?- away as he still looked at him, concern evident on his face.

“You fucking off to kill yourself for that shitty boy-toy you oh-so-love so very much!” She yelled at him, taking a step forward as she leaned in towards him. “So how about you get him to kindly fuck off-”

“Via, listen…!” Stolas snapped, his body tensing despite the tears that still streamed down his face. His eyes grew resolute. “It’s not what you think-”

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?!”

“Why… why don’t you…” He trailed off.

“Accept him? Well, excuse me, dad, but fuck you for thinking that I’d be accepting of the man who ruined my whole fucking life! Besides, what connections could I possible have or want with him?”

“Via-” He tried to speak, anguished.

“Tell me! Why should I care about h-”

“He’s your father!” Stolas suddenly yelled. Then, almost as if realising what he had said, folded in on himself like a wounded animal. Almost as if on cue, Octavia froze at those words.

He’s your father.

No. That wasn’t possible.

The entire scene felt frozen. Stolas knelt there, a look of pure anguish splayed across his face as all eyes focused on him. Confusion was the predominant emotion in each face. Loona’s mouth was ever so slightly ajar. Blitz’s eyes were fixed onto Stolas, that look of shock plastered all over his face like a painted surface. Behind it, something verging on anger seemed to be taking hold.

Octavia’s body quivered like a leaf. No. That was impossible. Her father had only ever been with mother his whole life; it wasn’t like Stolas had met his boy-toy before, and even if, certainly it was under different circumstances… right?

No. Of course not. That’s ridiculous. Why did Stolas think that this bullshit claim would turn her to his side-

“It’s true, Via,” Her father muttered, voice utterly dejected and tired. “And I’m sorry, for keeping this from you for so long. But it’s true… Blitzy is your flesh and blood. It was years ago, yet it remains clear in my mind; the feeling of you growing inside me, your ‘mother’s’ constant ridicule, and what I sacrificed to give you a life I thought you needed. Sometimes… I wish it weren’t true, but… I’m so, so sorry, Via…”

Octavia’s blood ran cold. In that moment, all the venom was lost as fear took over her body. The frigid temperatures of the icy mansion mimicked the freeze that had locked up her intelligent mind. She didn’t know what to do.  Her body seemed to stall at commands as it gripped her. Eventually, her body began to violently shake from the sound of his confession-true or not- ringing in her head.

“…Via?” Stolas asked cautiously. By now, everyone’s mouths were agape. Except Blitz’s. The imp stood perfectly rigid, almost like a statue, and simply stared at Octavia’s father with a blank expression that no doubt shielded a million emotions behind his eyes.

She didn’t think. She fled. Her feet moved without thought. Her body turned without command. Every moment her body moved as it ran to the door, her mind was still frozen solid. Her hands clasped around the door handles and flung them open. She needed to be alone.

“Via!” Stolas cried from behind her, but the doors had already been slammed shut. Slowly, she slid down them and curled up, knees against her chest. Everything felt wrong. This lobby should have felt safe, like it was her home. But it felt alien. Hostile. Changed. The words in her head fluttered uneasily about. She was inclined to see it as a cruel joke or attempt to win her over, but the utter conviction and hurt behind her father’s voice… it felt real. Like he was telling some truth to her.

It took a great deal of effort to force her limbs into motion, but when they did, they felt old and rusted. But she couldn’t stay here.

She stood, shaky and breathing irregularly. She forced each step at a time. Calm down. Just, take it easy. Breathe. Yeah, like that’ll help her entire life from slowly breaking down. Was it, though? What her father had said could still potentially be a lie. But if it was true-Lucifer help her if it was true- how would she know? All things considered, she knew everything she could about her body. She didn’t have horns, or an impish tail, which could easily disprove her father. Then again, didn’t some traits not pass over to others? Could that be it? No, of course not. Thinking that it’s true is just dumb.

Octavia blocked out the thoughts, and scurried off. Soon, she reached her bedroom, slamming the door behind her in one swift motion. Retreating into the ensuite, she leant against the counter, looking down at the sink’s drain as she steadied her breaths. She tightly gripped the edges, closing her eyes and letting her muscles relax slightly. This was not how she thought Sinmas would go.

Turning on the tap, she splashed a bit of water onto her face, wetting her feathers, and took off her beanie. Her feather-hair hang loose, drooping down the sides of her head and occasionally brushing the porcelain of the sink.

“I-it’s fine,” She began, trying to keep herself calm as she ran her hands through her hair. She breathed again. “It’s fine, it’s not true, not true… all a lie. Yeah, that’s it.”

As her hands crested the top of her head, one of them bumped onto something hard. Frowning, she touched the lump. It was definitely solid, and was completely covered by Octavia’s feathers. She traced it. A small circular thing, which seemed almost as if it were attached to her head.

Oh, Satan no.

Beginning to panic, she leaned her head forward, doing her best to part her hair to see this strange lump. As her hands frantically danced across her head, she felt a second lump. Her heart froze for a second, but she continued parting feathers. Eventually, she managed to part them enough to see what the lump was.

It appeared… mostly black, save what seemed to be a small white line on the circumference of the lump. Tentatively, she tapped it with a finger, and felt it throughout her skull. She scratched it, and felt that too, though not from impact. Whatever it was, it was part of her. Her mind raced. What could this be? What if-no, she couldn’t think of that.

Then she remembered something. Female imps and male imps had different horn stripes; the girls, as far as she knew, were mostly black with small white stripes. Small white stripes on black. And, according to father, imp hybrids almost always had horns some way or another. And if… that meant…

Her world shattered entirely. For a long moment, she simply stared at the reflection in the mirror. Then, wordlessly, pulled up a towel and dried her head. The moment the beanie came on, once again hiding the truth, she let out a choked sob. Her body carried her to her bed, where she swung the duvet over herself and curled up. Octavia was crying now, silently, but choked with grief and fear.

Is that what I truly am? She asked herself.

No reply came, and all she could do was cry herself to sleep as her life slowly changed.

-

The sound of his voice, revealing what he had left hidden for so long, hurt Stolas to his core. The words had left a bitter taste at the back of his throat, one that refused to go away. It was the taste of guilt. He could still see it; the confusion on his little Starfire’s face, turning to horror and denial as she fled from him. It hurt deeply, but he wasn’t one to blame her; what he had told had shattered her life, no doubt. At least, despite the pain he felt, he could at least imagine fantasies of her happiness or seek solace in memories.

The look on Blitz’s face, though, could have destroyed him. It wasn’t rage, or denial, or hope, but apathy. His face was a mask through which Stolas couldn’t see. His eyes sometimes lost focus even as he drove back. His hands quivered, but he remained in silence. The deafening lack of words emanated through the van, and he could swear that every eye was from the others were burning into him. The only sound was the purr of the engine and the sound of Sinmas music playing on the radio.

The party offered a small chance to try to be happy. Everyone else seemed completely fine, excluding the occasional uneasy or sympathetic glance at either him or Blitz. Meanwhile, Blitz seemed to change his mask, offering smiles and light words of comfort, but a definite unease rested with every falter in his expression when he thought no one was looking.

It was comforting, the lack of attention regarding his words, but every second someone didn’t address what he had said only made it worse. The heat began to get to him. When no one was looking, he slipped out. The fire escape-come-balcony offered a stiff breeze and enough isolation to let the former prince think.

He’d fucked up. But he hadn’t done so now. He’d ruined everything the moment he’d held the egg that became Octavia in his hands, spent and bewildered, and chosen to keep his mouth permanently shut, never to utter the truth, to her, or to him. He had the right heart, but the wrong execution. He saw that now. Better late then never, he thought bitterly.

They would all hate him. So. Much.

The door opened up behind him, and Blitz stepped out onto the balcony. The easy look he carried seemed to disappear, and all that remained was unease. Lords knew what his mind was doing now. He didn’t speak immediately, instead leaning on the railing next to Stolas, and taking a deep breath.

“Fuck… Stols.” He began, voice barely a whisper. “What you said to Octavia… please tell me that wasn’t true…”

“Blitzy, I’m so sorry.” Stolas replied, resting a trembling hand on his shoulder. “But… what I said… was all real.”

Blitz didn’t move for a long time, simply staring out over the horizon.

“…How?” He finally asked.

“You don’t remember? We were both eighteen, fresh adults. You, for whatever reason, appeared in the window…”

“Oh,” He said, face flushing up as he, most likely, remembered that warm night the pair had shared. That casual intimacy, which Stolas would have probably brushed off yet vaguely cherished had Octavia not been made by their lust. “That. Wait, fuck, does that mean-”

“It means that I carried Octavia and raised her, yes. It means that I had to agree with Stella so she could have a normal life instead of… everything. It means that I didn’t tell you. That decision has haunted me ever since I held her, but I did it to protect her. Please believe me on that.”

For a moment, Blitz didn’t speak. Stolas hoped that whatever words came eventually, they would be comfort. Internally, though, he tried to prepare for the worst. He knew that Blitz could whisper sweet nothings as easily as he could hurl venom.

“How. How fucking could you-” Blitz snarled, voice shaking as his hands tightened till his knuckles turned white. “How could you keep this? From me?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Seventeen years. Seventeen fucking years that she’s been alive, and you sold everyone a fucking lie?! Why?!”

“Blitzy-”

“Don’t ‘Blitzy’ me, you sick fuck!” Blitz yelled, arm flying out. It struck Stolas’s elbow, causing the hand the ex-prince had rested on his shoulder to come off. “Do you realise why I’m trying?! Why I’m trying to be a good father? Mine fucked over my life so many times, I told myself that I’d be everything to any kids I had. That’s why I love Loona with every inch of my fucked-up heart and mind. And now, I find out that you-” He jabbed a trembling finger at Stolas’s chest. “You, of all people, were out keeping me in the dark about my own fucking flesh and blood? How dare you. How fucking dare you.

“And while we’re on that, did the kid know about this? No, judging by that look on her face. You decide that not only I am unworthy of meeting the child I helped make, but also decide to omit details to her because you wanted to live in some fucking fantasy where your life isn’t a fucking mess?! Fuck you.”

Blitz spun on his heel and marched off to the other side of the balcony, leaving Stolas leaning against the railing, breathing hard. He’d expected anger, but was unprepared for the fury turned against him. Blitz was right. He’d fucked everything up. Now they all hated him. He’s a failure. He’ll be forced onto the streets; not that he blamed anyone but himself. After all, it was his choices that had made all of this happen.

“Y-you were right…” Stolas trembled, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m… I’m fucked. I’ll never be anything but a fucking pain in the side of all of you.”

He collapsed, curling his knees up to himself. His voice was a wobbling whisper. “I’m a failure. I always have been. I won’t blame you for hating me, or pushing me out. It’s all I deserve. If yo-you want, I could get my things and leave. Maybe… I could… remove myself… from everything. I don’t deserve kindness, or hospitality, or life-”

He noticed Blitz standing in front of him. He barely dared to look up. He knew what would happen. He’d look up, and get the strike he deserved. It was a tactic all to commonly employed by his ex-wife, so why would he be exempt now.

“Feathers,” The imp said. Stolas looked up. Blitz was offering him a hand.

“Wh-Why? Aren’t-”

“Fuck, Stols, of course I’m angry, that’s just expected at this point.” His voice was serious, but carried no notes of anger. “I’m mad that you decided to keep our daughter a secret for so long, but I… fuck, I love you, Feathers. Have for a long time.”

He withdrew his hand and looked away, whether from shame, anger or embarrassment. “I’m not about to forgive whatever you did so easily, but… I’m not about to explode on you. Heaven knows that your life’s completely fucked, and I can see you hate yourself more than anything else. But… as long as we try, that’s fine.”

He offered his hand again. This time, the ex-prince took it, albeit cautiously, and pulled himself up till he was eye-to-eye with Blitz. He looked tired, and motes of anger still floated in his face, but the imp seemed to have cooled down since his outburst. Awkwardly, he enveloped Stolas in a hug, which Stolas loosely returned.

“As long as we try, I can be fine with that.” Blitz murmured, “And right now, the last thing we need is to tear ourselves apart. Agreed?”

Stolas didn’t reply, but tightened his embrace.

As long as we try.

Yes, he could do that.

Chapter Text

The light of morning streamed easily through the curtains, and Octavia slowly stirred from her long sleep. She was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, curled up, and stifled by the incessant warmth of the duvet that covered her. Her entire body felt way too hot. Sighing tiredly, she threw off the sheet, only to be assaulted by the chill that seemed to permeate every inch of the palace that was her home. It took her a moment to remember exactly how she got into such a position.

“Tell me! Why should I care about h-”

“He’s your father!”

In one quick motion, she stuffed her hands under her beanie, and touched the two stubs that were her horns. Okay, that was not a really bad dream. Fuck. She groaned, and flopped back down onto her bed.

She remembered lying on this very mattress thousands of times over the course of her 17 years of life. Her first memories where of this room, in fact, but the bed came when she’d turned 5. Every night, she’d call out, and her father would come to comfort her. Sometimes, she wanted to ask questions. Other times, to have Stolas tell her a story of some extraplanar land of mystique and wonder. Most often, though, she wanted comfort from dreams, nightmares, or daytime woes.

It felt different, in this new context, her father’s song. Recently, she’d scoured some of the books in Stolas’s library when mother-if Octavia was even able to call her mother, as they had no familial connection- took away her phone, she’d learnt that sightseeing comes in dreams. Maybe, that nightmare of abandonment was merely a prediction of the future, and instead of promising to eternally be at her side, father had simply comforted her, knowing that one day, she’d be alone, but wanting her to know that she would be okay.

Fuck, this all gave her a headache. So… to review. She made a mental checklist. Stella and Stolas begin going through a divorce because father screwed some imp. Weird, definitely, and not anything she wanted to be part of. Her father begins obsessing over some imp he met, going so far as to neglect her in this tirade of wishful thinking. Next thing she knew, he was depressed and regressed into alcoholism; it was a dumb idea, but Octavia had almost wished that Stolas was still with Blitz; at least he was happy. Then, father puts his neck on the executioner’s block for his lover, effectively abandoning her, whilst ‘mother’ comforted and antagonised her. Then, she finds those pills. Worst. Fears. Confirmed. So, when she sees father, she confronts him. That is when Stolas reveals that most of her life had been a lie, and that she was the result of some lust-fuelled fling with Blitz. Of course, she denies this, but finds out that it’s the truth.

Unholy shit. Her life had become a mess in the space of, what, 7 months? Well, people have probably gone through shit in less time, but she doubted it was as fucked-up as learning that you’re a bastard and a hybrid. She frowned to herself, though she bit her lip to stop self-pitying tears. She was a hybrid. Her father, a Goetia. Her… other father, an imp. Both of whom, somehow, meet and make her. On that topic, what was Stolas to her, considering that he was her birth parent? Would she have to call Stolas her mother? She wrinkled her beak.

If she had horns, wouldn’t she have different aspects of her other parent? Maybe. There’s a chance that she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Pulling herself from bed, she wandered over to the ensuite, still slouched and half in denial. That wasn’t her first problem right now. Internally, she was panicked. Which felt like the last thing she needed. Right now, she needed a bath.

From the moment she stepped in and closed her eyes, to the moment she woke herself back up to dry herself off again, her external calmness hid inner turmoil. What was she? A hybrid, that was obvious. But that information alone destroyed any semblance of identity she had built for over 17 years. The belief that she was a Goetia, through and through. Destroyed with three words and a confession. Which also meant that people she thought were her family weren’t at all related to her. That’d make Stella her stepmother, right? Which meant that she has family on Blitz’s side, too. She didn’t know squat about that, why would she?

Alright, calm down. No one else knows.

Sighing, she pulled herself from the warm, soapy water, dried herself off quickly, then got dressed. Pulling on her pants, she noticed something on the back of her foot. Frowning, she let her hands go over the small, slightly hard bump. It felt similar to the tiny horns she’d felt on her head, but this time, it was right next to her talons. If she had to guess, it was something to do with the imp genetics; it was there, but so small a detail that no one, not even herself, had noticed it over 17 years. As far as how shitty her life had become, that was a win.

“OCTAVIA!”

Her ‘mother’s’ shrill voice echoed from somewhere inside the rest of the mansion. She froze up completely, then quickly tugged her socks back over her feet. She breathed, in and out, to try and calm her body down, which had begun quivering beyond her control. She would be fine. As long as she kept her mouth shut, she would be fine. Yeah. That, and somehow learning how Goetia deal with hybrids. Perfect. She tugged on her beanie, resumed her slouch, and made a face of utter boredom.

Leaving her bedroom, she barely paid notice to the servants that scurried on past her, carrying miscellaneous objects, from food and drinks to fancy napkins and silverware. It was strange, thinking that part of her blood came from an imp. After all, it wasn’t like she had much affiliation with them… they were just there, helping clean, cook, and all those menial duties that her father seemed to like trying. Especially the gardening. Not that any plants had survived Andrealphus’s glacial presence.

She eventually wandered into the dining room, hugging herself to keep warm. Her ‘uncle’ was lounging on a nearby couch, looking in a mirror and applying makeup over bruises still left from yesterday. He spared her a brief glare, but turned back to his mirror and began fussing over himself again. It had been somewhat cathartic, fighting him off, but thinking about what happened yesterday felt almost as if it contradicted what she had learnt. She was magically powerful enough to fight off her ‘uncle’, who she assumed was at least more skilled than her, but… wouldn’t being only half-Goetia dilute her magic capacity?

She caught her mind before it could wander, and replaced it with a blank slate. She barely noticed her step-mother as she walked over to the table, hands firmly shove into her pockets, and slouched into one of the seats. Stella took a sip of some kind of tea, then turned to face Octavia.

“Octavia,” She began, face somewhere between neutral, sickly sweet, and disappointed. “I wish to speak with you about what… happened yesterday.”

Well, she had been expecting something like this to come up.

“I want you to know that, whilst I am letting you free this time, and this time only, such behaviour is absolutely unacceptable, and ill befits your position. As such, I demand that you apologise to your uncle immediately.”

“Uh, okay?” Octavia didn’t look up. “Don’t really see why I’m the one who has to apologise for anything, he nearly killed my fathers-”

She froze instantly at the slip-up. Fuck, she’d said fathers. Shit. She stopped herself from baulking at the word. Stella didn’t seem to pick up on it. It was a blessing that she could sometimes be a numbskull.

“Octavia,” She snapped. “Apologise. Now.”

Octavia groaned, and then dramatically turned to her ‘uncle’. “Sorry, uncle, for… yesterday.”

“Ah, it’s fine, darling. Truly, water under the bridge,” His voice was dripping with sweetness, but a hard light in his eyes suggesting that he had yet to forgive the slight. He placed the ornate mirror onto the table next to him and gave an overdramatic stretch accompanied by a small yawn. “So, dear sister, what is for breakfast? I do hope the low-borns in the kitchens didn’t fuck anything up, or there’ll be Heavens to pay.”

Octavia sat low in her seat, twiddling her thumbs and hoping to gather herself some courage to answer a question that burnt the back of her mind like a scolding iron. Like, surely she wasn’t the only hybrid to have existed? So, then, why didn’t she know about any of them.

The servants came, bearing an array of well-portioned and prepared dishes, ranging from buttered toast to lavishly shaped strips of hellbacon to complex arrays of fruits and sugar heaped high. Despite the appeasing look of it all, Octavia didn’t really feel that hungry, instead taking a couple slices of bread and scraping on some honey. She chewed on one as her step-mother looked at her with a face that looked like feigned pity.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t you have an appetite?” Stella cooed, turning her attention to Octavia. She pretended not to hear, and simply took another bite of the toast, giving a shrug.

“Probably that bastard’s fault,” Andrealphus drawled as he took a bunch of grapes from a nervous-looking imp and plucked one off. He inspected it, then handed it down to the imp, who took out a small knife and began to peel the grape’s skin away. “He probably tried to get into my darling niece’s head, manipulate her, and do all those… dastardly things.”

Judging by his disdainful tone, she guessed that Andre was talking about Stolas. She bristled at the words, not entirely sure why. Stolas had done all those fucked-up things, breaking promises and actively selling her a lie about who she was, but, judging by Stolas’s words, he’d had to endure lugging her around for nine months while keeping her parentage an absolute secret. That definitely counted as something, right?

“Oh, you’re probably right. That deadbeat only wants to complete his own little twisted family tree with my daughter.” She scoffed, oblivious to the fact that Octavia was (unwillingly) already a part of that family tree. Andrealphus smirked in amusement, and, taking the grape up from the servant, popped it into his mouth and swallowed.

She took another bite of the toast, finishing it off with some dejected chews, before finally finding a surge of courage within her.

“Uh… I don’t know if it’s rude of me to ask, mother, but… have there ever been hybrids amongst the Goetia?”

The room froze. Andrealphus, sipping in a goblet of absinthe, choked up his drink and spilt some onto his clothes. Stella’s attention snapped over to her immediately, and her usually indifferent eyes burnt a tad brighter. One of the servants-Pringles, since that’s what her father had called him-visibly cringed.

“What do you mean?” Andrealphus irritably replied, snapping his fingers as magic levitated his coat off of his body and dumped it on the imp next to him. “Everyone learns-wait, Stella. Did you or her… father ever teach her about history?”

“Ugh, brother, you know Stolas,” Stella-thankfully- took her eyes off Octavia and turned to her brother. “Always moaning on about ‘normalcy’ and that kind of bullshit, whilst he was busy bedding an imp.” She gave a mirthless chuckle. “I do believe he left out some… higher education.”

“Ah. Well, now’s the time to learn!” Andrealphus said, before turning to Octavia. “Why the sudden interest, my darling niece?”

“I-uh-well… I was just curious…” Octavia lied through her beak. “Considering that my father... well, you know, I was just wondering-”

“If similar circumstances have happened before?” Her step-mother cut her off. “Rarely, of course, but too many times for anyone’s liking. Surprisingly, most of these abominations were sired between master and servant. Can you imagine that, Andrealphus, bedding with a low-born whose only role is servitude? Utterly preposterous.”

Her ’uncle’ laughed in return. “Well, yes, but that didn’t stop all those bastards, did it? Not to worry, though, our sires dealt with it in a timely manner.”

“A… timely manner?” Octavia pressed.

“Yes, once a child was confirmed to be carrying gutter-blood, there were always options,” Andrealphus continued, pausing to take a sip from his goblet. “First, of course, was simply disposing of the aberration. Most of the time, this was simply removing the foetus before it was laid or born. If it did come to live, though, similar rules applied. More often than not, though, such mistakes were… euthanised.”

Octavia’s heart skipped a beat. “Euthanised?” She said, acting as nonchalant as she could.

Andrealphus nodded. “Oh, such things may be called the acts of monsters, but, if you ask me, if a half-blood child is born, then they shouldn’t have even reached that stage of development. That’s the lot of these abominations; they are such, and are treated as such.”

“True, brother,” Stella drawled. “Who, in their right mind, would allow such trash to even live? Well, some were too soft to make the right choice, so they disowned the child of all power and fobbed them off into the world. Most likely, most of these horrid mistakes probably ended up dead.” She laughed. “Fitting.”

Octavia absently nodded, horror seeping into her veins.

Andrealphus moved to reply, but was stopped by his phone buzzing. Irritably flicking it on, he stared at the screen. His eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly, but he quickly recomposed himself. “Stella,” He said, slipping his phone away. “I do apologise, but Vassago has summoned me at once. I’m afraid it cannot wait, unfortunately.”

Stella waved her hand carelessly. “Again, what does that parrot want? Ugh, he’s always putting his head where it shouldn’t…”

Octavia snorted internally. These constant meetings with Vassago weren’t because of business or anything innocent in that way. She remembered, clear as day, the moment she’d snuck a look at her ‘uncle’s’ phone; his biggest contact was ‘Vassy’, and upon opening it, had found several photos of various naked poses she wished she could unsee. To her, at least, it was obvious that, for all his talk about Stolas’s sexuality, Andrealphus was screwing Vassago. And even without evidence, Andrealphus’s reactions to texts, his flustered look every time he returned, occasional blushes and a stench that reminded her of that one time Stolas hadn’t washed himself after one of the ‘Full Moon’ things. She was sure that the only person who didn’t have a sneaking suspicion was Stella. She was either blissfully ignorant, or just stupid.

Not that Andre’s love life was her biggest concern, pausing briefly as she watched Andrealphus walk through a portal. Octavia finished her toast, and excused herself, saying that she needed to use the ‘powder room’, as Stella had forced her to call it.

“Remember, be back soon!” Her ‘mother’ called after her. “You’ll be receiving lessons on how to be a perfect Goetia lady, starting today!”

She didn’t hear half the words. She bolted, into her room and into the ensuite. Only then, when she’d closed the door, did she collapse onto the floor for the second time in one week. She curled up, knees to her head, and began crying. She was betrayed, her father’s hollow promises and sweet lies ringing in her head. He’d pretended to tell her so much, when she’d learnt nothing at all. Then came the fear, cold and fathomless. She was trapped, in a house with people who would hate her with every shred of their being. In a system where she would probably be stamped out the moment truth came to light.

Almost subconsciously, she ran her hands over her two horn stubs. Tears streaked down her face. She’d heard every word they’d called her, albeit indirectly; aberration, abomination, mistake. Words burnt into her eardrums. They’d been so carefree, talking about the systemic killing of hybrids. Those children hadn’t asked to be born the way they were, but weren’t offered the chance to live, extinguished because of some kind of screwed-up eugenics thing.

She hadn’t asked to be born with imp blood in her veins, but she’d lived. Seventeen years had she been in the world, none the wiser, but now it all was terrifying. Stolas had obviously gone to great lengths to hide her heritage form the world, something she was grateful for. But what if they found out? Would she be banished? Hauled in front of the Goetia as a disgrace, or… euthanised, like a rabid cur?

She looked in the mirror to see her tear-streaked face and shuddering body. If they find out… what then?

Chapter Text

Life had… certainly taken a turn since Sinmas. And not just the way he was sleeping. The floor wasn’t the best place to sleep, sure, but he’d been trying to save cash. Maybe get an actual apartment with enough bedrooms. But, for now, Blitz was fine with it. He stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish. 4am, and he couldn’t really sleep. Not since he’d learnt what Octavia was to him.

He cast a glance over to the couch, where Stolas was still sleeping, and gave a long sigh. He knew what feathers had been talking about, regarding that night, though it hadn’t been anything he thought too much about, honestly.

He’d been hurled out of the hospital they’d been keeping Fizz at, and was feeling like absolute shit. He’d ruined everything. Everyone hated him. His body still stung from the recent burn scars. It’d been a month and a half since the bandages came off, and he was still yet to fully come to terms regarding his… situation. Everything was his fucking fault. The deaths, maimed people, and everything else. All his fault.

He hadn’t been thinking straight, of course, and was not going anywhere near his father, if he valued not getting beaten by that drunken shit. So he went on a bender, ran around bars, and somehow, found himself up in the estates of the Goetia with only a fuzzy memory of how he’d gotten there. Last he really remembered was something to do with a car.

He'd told himself to turn, but he hadn’t, and he followed the memories to that palace he’d been as a child. Maybe he’d wanted to remember the happiness he’d long lost, or maybe he’d been not thinking straight.

He’d climbed up to that window, and came face to face with the prince for the first time since they were 7. Stolas had, obviously, expressed surprise at seeing the imp again, but hadn’t called the guards or anything… just let him sit down, and just be there. Neither of them really spoke, but something had passed between them; some kind of understanding.

He'd tried to break the silence by asking how life was, and ended up having the prince trauma-dump onto him. About some bitch he had been arranged to marry, how his life was misery, of a deadbeat dad. Blitzø had asked when he’d have to marry a sociopath. He’d replied that it was tomorrow. Well, that probably explained why he wasn’t sleeping, despite it being ten at night. The prince looked miserable, definitely. Almost like they were two peas in a depressing pod.

Both of them eighteen, and depressed. There’d been a chance that they’d both somehow find an excuse to fuck. And they had.

Blitz needed a clean-up; he’d been stumbling through a garden, and was covered in itches and dirt. He’d asked if there was a shower he could use. There was a whole regal one, which Stolas said he could use. He’d wandered in, gawked at all that fancy shit, marvelled the size of the shower-it was as big as an ensuite- and had quickly stripped off to try all the soaps and other shit out. He’d probably spent ten minutes testing all of the conditioners and expensive stuff before the prince asked if he could join him. Blitz, of course, had given him the all-clear. Once they were both in, there’d been a single, tentative touch, and before either of them could form a coherent thought, he and Stolas were both on the floor. He’d slipped inside, and the rest was history.

Looking back, it was obvious that they’d both decided to share each other’s bodies to forget the fuckery that was their lives. It was also obvious that the shower had been a way to make sure no one would overhear their… ‘conversation’. It had only been a one-time fling, the first time Blitz had ever fucked, and something he dreamt about for a week until it returned to distant memory.

Now, he’d learned, their little fling had conceived Octavia. Fuck.

He gave an audible groan, then the coffee finished boiling. He poured himself a cup, not bothering to get sugar or milk, and took a sip.

He’d envisioned himself, Stolas, Loona and Octavia as a family for a couple days now, despite how inherent it seemed as a fantasy. He’d screw something up, for sure. Plus, he doubted that Via would accept him as a member of her family, even if, by some miracle, she and Stolas reconciled. He hadn’t ever guessed that he and Octavia were father and daughter-well, biologically, not emotionally, yet. Yet, here he was, contemplating every word he said to that kid, and trying to figure out exactly why he had been kept from her.

A door creaked open behind him. Turning, he saw Loona, evidently drawn in by the smell of coffee, exiting her bedroom with an annoyed look on her face. Wordlessly, she tiptoed over to him. Blitzø steeled himself mentally. He was going to tell her what Stolas had told him. That Via, her friend, was her sister. That he was Octavia’s father. All of that. Yeah, that totally won’t cause an adverse reaction.

“Dad, what the fuck?” Loonie groaned sleepily, rubbing her bloodshot eyes and making a low grumble.

“Oh… uh, hey, Loonie,” Blitz replied, trying to sound as cheery as he could when a storm blew in the back of his head. “Want some coffee?” He offered a cup. His adoptive daughter rolled her eyes, but took the drink without hesitation. She slowly gazed around the darkened apartment, eyes finally resting on the couch, from which small hoots could occasionally be heard. Those sounds made Blitz’s heart melt a little bit, but Loona seemed unimpressed.

“So, uh… it’s a bit weird, havin’… him around.” She gestured towards the former prince. Do it. Do it now.

“Hey, uh, Loona?” Blitzø began, cautious to the point he was nearly silent. This caught her attention, given he was usually nowhere near this quiet. Her brow furrowed a little. “I… have something to tell you.”

Loona cocked her head, silently beckoning him to continue. He took a shuddering breath.

“Well… before I tell ya, please promise me you aren’t going to be mad, or anything… I-I swear I didn’t know until recently-”

“Blitz, just spit it out-” She grumbled.

“Octavia’s… well… my daughter.”

This caused Loona to tense immediately, eyes fixing completely onto his, half in disbelief, half in denial. Blitz cringed at the reaction, but nevertheless continued.

“I-I swear I just found this out, okay?! S-Stolas told me… that all this time… Octavia was my… biological child. Don’t ask how, why or when; I’d rather not speak about that. But… listen, I’m mad to, believe me. I swore to be better than my own father, to try and be a parent someone deserved-like you. But… turns out, I’ve been an absentee this whole time… listen, Loonie… I’m sorry. I wish I could break the news easier, but…” He couldn’t finish the sentence before he began, for some fucking reason, shedding tears.

Loona was completely silent, though her eyes moved off on Blitz, and onto Stolas. Her hands trembled slightly, but she didn’t make any noises, beyond slow breaths. Had he gone too far? Did he mess up? Was she mad? Of course she was, why wouldn’t-

“Alright,” She finally said, cutting off his thoughts. “I mean… unholy shit, but…” She scratched her head. “I guess that explains it…”

“Explains what?” Blitz cut in, suspicion quickly taking over his fear. “Explain what, Loona?”

“Well…” She looked aside, clearly ashamed or something. “I knew something was up with Octavia. She didn’t smell like any of the other Goetia; granted, the only ones I know are Stolas, Via and those two assholes. But… yeah. Octavia had a strange scent, y’know? I didn’t ask about it… to be honest, I thought it was something to do with teenage rebellion… guess I was wrong.”

Now it was his turn to freeze up. She knew something was up. His own daughter (adoptive, but that changed exactly zilch), knew that there was something weird with Octavia. And she hadn’t told him?!

“Now, now… I know you’re probably pissed,” Loona raised her hands. “But listen, how was I supposed to know exactly who, what, and where, when she always smelt like fucking roses and perfume? All I could tell was that she smelt something like Stolas, and that’s all I could get. Besides, you smell like shit nine out of ten times, so forgive me for not entirely remembering how you smell.”

Crap, she had a point. Nonetheless, he still wasn’t going to let this slide.

“You… didn’t tell me?” He asked, voice small.

“Listen,” Loona sighed, exasperated. “Would you have been concerned if I mentioned weird smells to you? Or would you have brushed it off, like most things about Via?”

Blitz paused.

“…Fuck.” He finally said, conceding. He leant on the kitchen counter. “…I’ve screwed up, haven’t I?”

His adoptive daughter didn’t look his way, but replied nonetheless. “You don’t blame someone for something they never knew about.”

-

He hadn’t gone to sleep since that interaction. Blitz had opted instead to watch the sun rise over Imp City, occasionally refilling his coffee, and waiting for Stolas to get up. He had questions. So many. But he knew that Feathers was probably real vulnerable and shit-he knew that feeling- and decided to try his best to go slow. He might have a problem with that, though.

A slow groan from the couch told him that the ex-prince was awake. He pushed himself up, lanky frame awkwardly twisting as he sat up. His bleary eyes fixed on Blitz, and he gave a small frown.

“Blitzy? How long have you been awake?” Aaaaaand fuck. Any anger he may have been harbouring or resolve he’d gathered almost dissipated at the sound of his tired voice. He didn’t turn yet, but took a slow sip from his cup to try and steady his nerves.

“A few hours,” He admitted, “I’ve had a hard time sleeping, to be completely honest. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Stolas frowned. “About what?”

Blitzø finally turned to face the ex-prince. “About… y’know, learning that I’ve been an absentee father, all this time?” He released a short, bitter chuckle. “I dunno, but that’s a pretty fucking big thing to keep from me, and her, don’t you think?”

Feathers stretched, and Blitz caught himself ogling the Goetia briefly before forcing himself to look away, delivering a silent reprimand. Stolas only gave a guilty glance as he shuffled to the table.

“I… I do understand that you’re angry at me, Blitzy. Trust me, I do. But…” He paused, obviously searching for a word. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Blitz scoffed, “Afraid of letting a father know his daughter? Of keeping yourself locked up in a lie? Of-”

“I never lied to myself about what Via was,” Stolas interrupted. “Others may have seen her as a mistake, but I never, ever did. I only lied to others about her blood, including you and her. I wish I found the courage to speak sooner, I really do.” A sigh. “But I was afraid. Of something going wrong. I was afraid of putting my-our daughter in danger. I had so many chances, and I wasted every single one.”

The ex-prince squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears that gathered. Sure, Feathers had a reason not to tell anyone that his heir wasn’t what everyone thought she was, but still, he wasn’t about to forgive silence easily.

“Then why didn’t you take those chances, if you had so many?” Blitz retorted. “We met every month, for Lucifer’s sake. Sometimes even more. So why didn’t you at least try-”

“Forgive me for being afraid of telling you this when you blew up the moment I confessed that I cared about you!” Stolas snapped, voice loud enough to make Blitzø take a step back. “Do you even realise what the Goetia would do if they found out that Octavia was a hybrid? They view imps like trash-you know all to well, unfortunately- and wouldn’t discriminate this view even though Via is my ‘cautionary heir’. And what if I’d told you, during that Full Moon? Seeing how you reacted to even the idea that someone was in love with you made you explode, and what then? If I’d told you about Via, what then? I doubt you’d take it easy-yesterday saw as much- but who knows how your reaction would change? Things would’ve gotten far worse, and then, our daughter’s safety would have been at risk! I… I just-”

Running out of steam, the anger behind Stolas’s expression faded into sadness as choking sobs rippled through his body. Shit. Blitz hurriedly half-walked, half-ran over to him, aiming to comfort. He picked up a tissue, and tried to wipe away the freely trickling tears. The ex-prince didn’t say anything, but leant into Blitz, almost like he was seeking comfort. Neither of them spoke, instead opting just to be there for each other. It felt strangely comforting.

“I won’t deny that I fucked everything up,” Stolas began, voice still wobbling. “I know that much. But please, believe me when I say that I wished I could. I… I only wanted her to be safe, Blitzy. Wouldn’t you, too?”

Blitz had no reply, but instead wrapped his arms around the ex-prince.

“Yeah, I’d want that,” He conceded.

And for a moment, the world shrunk down to just the pair of them, young again, embracing beneath the relentless pour of water, both knowing that it was just a temporary escape, yet neither willing to let go.

-

It begun with a nasty case of nausea.

Honestly, considering how much Stella put him off, Stolas initially chalked up the sickness as some kind of adverse reaction to his wife’s complete lack of empathy and various degrading insults that multiplied by the day. Not that they really looked at each other that much; Stolas had, and still was, was inundated with early duties managing prophetic visions, whilst Stella flaunted about with her ‘friends’ in increasingly expensive escapades.

For that much, he had been grateful.

But a quick trip to a private doctor revealed to him that this sickness wasn’t born from disgust of any kind. Rather, it appeared to be connected to something regarding his body. The physician likened it to some kind of food poisoning, or perhaps a parasitic infection. He had been assured that his Goetia body will naturally overcome these in due time, but recommended that he try and get ample rest.

Stolas took this idea gratefully, but there was a persistence to this nausea. Sometimes, he ended up in the bathroom, emptying his stomach’s contents into the toilet as one of the servants helplessly looked on as he dry-retched after everything had been expunged.

Most strange, though, were… cravings? The food that was prepared every day was delicious and designed to perfectly sustain him, he knew that much, but the scent of it often caused the nausea to suddenly peak. Stella would deliver a scathing comment every time he ran off before he vomited up on the floor. Typical.

This didn’t concern him as much as the way his body was violently rebelling against him, though. It was late when he decided to finally do something.

Slipping out of bed and into his bathrobe, the prince walked over to the ensuite, for once thankful that his wife wasn’t here. She’d probably make some big scene about this, which was the last thing Stolas wanted. A shadow of a thought had crossed his mind, a couple days ago, but had refused to leave him, no matter how ridiculous it was.

Slowly sitting down on the toilet, he glanced down at his body, noting the slight increase in fat that had built up thanks to those cravings. Out of all the things he wanted to eat, he chose the sugary cereal that children ate. It tasted sweet, and he enjoyed it to a degree, but it seemed to be causing his physique to change. He knew that, somehow, someone-probably Stella- would heckle him and find some creative insults because of this fattening. He made a note to try and stave off these cravings.

Hand flashing with magic, he mentally prepped himself. Surely, it wasn’t that, right? It was just an illness, or a parasite. Physically, it was implausible that he would be able to carry, right? He would’ve been told. Then again, Paimon had not even told him about his mother beyond her name being ‘Octavia’ and being where he got his secondary eyes from. So he wasn’t leaving it to chance.

It’s nothing, Stolas scolded himself, gilded light swirling on his fingertips and slowly tracing his body. He could see his bones and organs through his skin and feathers. It’s physically impossible, there’s no way you could be gravid. You’re a male, nothing more, nothing less. It’s just overeating. Yes, that’s it.

When the coalescing magic revealed a softly glowing shape seated in his belly, Stolas couldn’t move. Shock struck through his mind like lightning. His entire body began to shake, ever so slowly.

Tentatively, he held his head in his hands, looking anywhere but the damned shape that he now wished he’d never seen.

Why me?