Archive of Our Own

Stolas had had enough.

He was tired of repeatedly being told he was not behaving as the heir to the throne should behave, always too loud, too passionate. He was tired of the judging stares that honed in on him whenever he came with Stella to yet another soul-sucking gala. He was tired of the not-at-all-discreet whispers about him, accusing him of not being 'a proper Goetia'. Simply put, he was just tired.

Years of dealing with high expectations that everyone thought he could never achieve left something simmering in his veins. Disappointment, failure, fucking useless – he had heard those words spat at him far more than anyone had the right to, always from either his father who cared so little about anything but his hollow legacy or the shrill woman who was arranged to be his wife before Stolas knew what the intricacies of the Ars Goetia even were. (Truth be told, he still did not know what they were.)

So it came as a surprise to the Ars Goetia when Stolas announced he was stepping down from the throne as well as divorcing Stella.

Mind you, this was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, something caused by Stolas having reached a tipping point (though it was very close to being just that). Several months prior to telling the Ars Goetia in no uncertain terms to go fuck themselves, he had quietly purchased a building near where Imp City and Pentagram City meet, picking this specific location so he would not cross paths with other Goetia afterward. That was one of the few advantages of being so disregarded – no one noticed you as you plotted your escape.

Tabloids and paparazzi quickly swarmed him afterward, demanding to know what had brought on this decision. Had he had more of a backbone, he would have told them every single piece of dirty laundry involving his life, how his father did not give a single solitary damn about his own flesh and blood, how Stella never said one positive thing about him since (and even before) they were wed. Instead, he stayed quiet, letting speculation run rampant and giving Stella more ammunition. Worse still, without gossip, the Ars Goetia was siding with Stella.

He did not care about how much money he would get in the proceedings (as expected, Stella demanded all of it), focusing more on making his escape. The problem with his marriage (well, one of many) was that because divorce was basically nonexistent amongst Goetian society, he and Stella had not written a prenup. As such, when he asked for a modest amount of money so he could start anew, he was swiftly shut down, harsh accusations of him being greedy thrown at him. (It was amazing to Stolas that the wealthy only cared about money when they were faced with the possibility of losing it. Any other time, they were perfectly content with hoarding it.) Despite this, he managed to get some money – about half of what he had originally asked for – out of the settlement. (He took some dark joy in Stella not getting everything she wanted, her behaving no better than a spoiled child in response.)

The only bright spot in this farce Stolas called his life was his daughter Octavia. He did the best he could in being his father's antithesis, supporting her interests despite Stella loudly stating they were 'unbecoming of a Goetia'. But after the divorce was finalized, Octavia tearfully proclaimed that she never wanted to see him again, heartbroken that he had ruined her family for no good reason – that stung worse than any of the mudslinging. Under normal circumstances, he would have admitted that yes, he was being selfish in his decision, for not telling her the truth about why he did it, but he also knew that Stella had poisoned their daughter's mind with lies and slander, blaming him for things Stella herself (and Stella alone) had done.

When the dust settled, he was left with far less than what he already had. On top of Octavia shunning him, Stolas was stripped of his powers, and what few acquaintances he had did not want to associate with him anymore. He thought he would be more hurt from becoming persona non grata, but he felt…nothing. But then again, how could one feel upset at losing something they never truly had in the first place?

Trying to distract himself from his recent turmoil, he set about to the reason for buying this building: starting over. He turned the empty business space into a bookstore, which he chose to name 'Serendipity Books'. He had always found comfort in books – why not share it with others? He had rows of shelves filled with books of all interests. Lights in the shape of stars and moons hung from the ceiling. Plants dotted the tops of shelves, while small displays invited customers to discover something new. This was everything Stolas had imagined a bookstore would – no, should – look like.

Slowly, the bookstore started gaining interest. It started with Sinners curiously popping in, looking for some connection to the living world amid eternal damnation. Some were former college professors who could not fight the desire to sleep with their younger students. (Stolas did not like them.) Other customers were bored housewives who had strayed from their marriages and ended up murdered by their husbands, furious at their wives for breaking their vows but they themselves 'conveniently' forgetting the sixth commandment. (Stolas quietly sympathized with them.) Soon word of mouth had spread enough that the bookstore was making a nice profit. (Stolas also had some Sinner regulars to thank for inspiring his 'future arrivals' section of books, though it troubled him that two authors made up the bulk of the small assortment.)

Despite escaping such a suffocating existence and starting anew well over a year ago, the Ars Goetia's scornful nature stuck to Stolas as a foul smell would. He knew he got strange looks whenever he traversed the streets of Pride to do his errands – why the fuck was a Goetia living amongst imps and Sinners? – but he did not care. Very scarcely did he engage in small talk, even with his regular customers. His only companion during this time was whatever hard liquor he could get his hands on, even opting for watered-down beer now and then when he was trying to save money. Anything to take his mind off reality, however brief.

Early in settling down, Stolas had contemplated trying to start over when it came to a relationship. (He knew for some time that he was not interested in women, first thinking he was unattracted to them because being with Stella had put quite a damper on them as a whole. It did not take long after that he realized that no, Stella had no part in that – thank fuck – but rather he was always like that.) But the gnawing fear that he would be hurt yet again overtook that initial desire to find someone. He kept that little light of hope buried deep in his chest, far from prying eyes and those wanting to snuff it out.

He grew up surrounded by backstabbers who always watched for the faintest flicker of vulnerability, eager to tear the weak to shreds. If he never allowed himself to be cast in that light, then he would not risk getting hurt again. He had already dealt with more pain than anyone should ever endure.

----

As he turned off his alarm, Stolas dragged his hand down his face, the faint hangover telling him that he was still alive. Another fucking day, he miserably thought as he stared at the cracked ceiling. He got up and put on his robe, not remotely looking forward to the day ahead of him.

Obviously, an apartment in Imp City was not meant to be housed by someone of Stolas' size, but he made do with what he had. Shortly before he announced his abdication, he had used his portal magic to smuggle in some furniture (a bed, a small dining set, a chaise lounge, a coffee table, a few lamps, some photos, several plants) but its presence in the small locale just made everything look out of place. More frustratingly, it somehow made the place feel even smaller despite it being a one-bedroom apartment (though some of that was because of the piles of books he had scattered around the apartment).

His morning routine was down pat by this point. He would put the kettle on and pop some bread into the toaster before he tended to his plants. (It still pained him that he left some of his larger plants back at the palace. If he was lucky, there was a servant looking after them in his stead.) Once his tea and toast were ready, he would go over what needed to be done in the bookstore as he had his breakfast. There usually was not much to do beyond keeping track of customer orders and making sure his bills were paid. (He ran the bookstore by himself, so he did not need to be concerned about employees’ paychecks.)

More than once during these mornings, Stolas had wondered whether abdicating was a mistake, that he should have just stuck it out instead. But just as often, he knew that, had he stayed, he would have spiraled further downward into a pit of darkness from which he could never escape. One could only endure such a frigid existence for so long before they longed for warmth.

But Via…he should have told her. He should have taken her with him, away from the clutches of her mother, uncle, and grandfather. But he had already caused enough scandal for one lifetime, and she hated him for it. Had he fled with her in tow, she would have detested him even further. And who knows how his father would have reacted to that, him 'kidnapping' the heir? (Stella, he knew, would have demanded his head on a platter for taking away something she could use against him. And he shuddered to think what Andrealphus was capable of.)

But it was far too late now. By this point, Via would be attending to the duties her father had neglected for so long. Stolas only hoped that she found some solace in being amongst the stars as he did. Shaking himself out of this dark mood, Stolas went back to his to-do list.

With his luck, it would be another slow, uneventful day.

----

It was not an uneventful day.

Sometime in the early afternoon, Stolas was busy shelving books when he heard the door burst open, the bell above it clanging from the force. He looked over to see a blur of a red tail ducking behind the sales counter as three demons – two Stolas assumed were Sinners while the third was a hellhound – came close behind, darkness in their faces.

"Are you going to buy something?" Stolas chided toward the theatrics. "Or are you just going to make a mess?"

"That son of a bitch owes me money!" the hellhound snarled.

Stolas was not swayed. "If you’re not going to buy anything, I suggest you fuck off."

The three grumbled and walked out. But now Stolas was curious as to whom had pissed them off. Walking to the sales counter, he peeked over to find an imp with thick horns and a half-white face looking up at him.

"Thanks," the imp said, a bit sheepishly. "Don’t believe what they say. I paid them fair and square."

That squashed Stolas' curiosity pretty quickly. "As much as I appreciate you making things amusing for a few seconds, I’m going to need you to leave as well."

The imp stood up. "Hey, hey, if I buy something, will that make things better?"

"…Maybe."

Without looking, the imp grabbed a thick book from one of the nearby shelves. Stolas quirked a quick smile when he saw that the imp grabbed a book on constellations. Truth be told, that was a book he had trouble selling, no one being interested in what lies beyond Hell. Sure, some had thumbed through it, but that was the extent of their curiosity.

"Oh, you’re interested in the stars?" Stolas asked.

"Hm?" The imp looked at the cover. "Oh, uh, sort of. This is actually, uh, a gift for…someone."

The imp was obviously lying, but Stolas humored him as he rang him up. "Well, I’m sure they’ll appreciate it, Mister...?"

"Oh, uh, Blitzø. The O's silent." He plucked up a business card, the address surrounded by a border of white vines against a pale purple. "Nice place you've got here," he said as he bent a corner of the card.

"Come again soon," Stolas blurted out as Blitzø turned on his heel. He got a quick over-the-shoulder wink before Blitzø was gone.

That was…strange. He had no idea what made him partake in so much small talk, let alone with someone he would probably not cross paths with again. And what possessed him to say that as he was leaving? Was it just out of habit by this point? No matter. Just a little blip in his monotonous life.

----

A few more boring days passed before Stolas' day shifted again. He was in the middle of dusting when he caught that blur of red out of the corner of his eye. This time, another imp followed it, who was clutching a knife that appeared to have blood on the blade.

Stolas rolled his eyes at the disturbance. "Fuck's sake, this again?" he muttered under his breath before he went to confront the knife-wielding imp. "Would you mind not causing a scene? This is a bookstore, after all, not a prison yard."

"If that bastard shows his ugly mug, chuck him my way," the imp scoffed as he turned on his heel.

"I might. Now go."

The imp left, and Stolas rubbed his temple. I should've looked for real estate in a different Ring, he thought, annoyed. I'm sure even Envy doesn't deal with this.

He went behind the sales counter to find Blitzø hunched over – and with a gash across his stomach, dark blood trickling through his claws.

"Hey, birdie," Blitzø wheezed. "Sorry about this. It looks worse than it actually is. Fucker just slashed me instead of stabbing."

Stolas only held out his hand to help Blitzø up. "If you're going to bleed out, I would prefer that you didn't do so on my carpet."

He brought Blitzø into the room behind the sales counter, which he used as a small lounge for when he needed a break. A cheap table and two mismatched chairs stood opposite a set of cupboards with crooked doors, an electric kettle sitting by the sink atop the warped linoleum. (Stolas really needed to replace that countertop.)

"Sit," Stolas instructed, pointing offhandedly to one of the chairs as he went to the cupboard. He took out a small first aid kit and set it on the table beside Blitzø. "Another person you owe money to, I'd take it?"

Blitzø hiked his shirt up so Stolas could look at the wound – it was not deep nor life-threatening, but it also did not look remotely comfortable to have. "Nah, just some guy I pissed off. Let's just say that trouble has a way of finding me."

Stolas scoffed as he wiped off the blood to put on a gauze. "Yes, well, trouble usually doesn't brandish weapons in a bookstore, but who am I to judge?"

Blitzø winced at the dull sting. "Y'know, I've been trying to figure out why you seem familiar."

Shit. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, I'd figured it was from the news or something, and then I remembered. Aren't you that royal who gave up everything?"

Oh, it was times like this when Stolas wished he could still turn people into stone. For now, he would have to do with throwing him out the window, silently hoping that afterward he would not be playing phone tag when he tried to get it fixed. But he fought back that urge despite how badly he wanted to do so.

"Well," Stolas curtly started, finishing applying tape to the bandage, "I think you'll survive. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my store."

Blitzø adjusted his shirt, the clean bandage peeking from beneath the cut fabric. "Can I at least get another book before I head out?"

"…Very well." He followed Blitzø out into the store, watching him as he snooped around the fiction section. He saw how Blitzø's eyes widened as he yanked a book off the shelves, nearly taking several others with it.

"You’re selling sex books?!" Blitzø blurted out, holding out the book so Stolas could see the title.

Stolas only rolled his eyes in amusement. "If I had a dollar for every time someone thought Of Human Bondage was about that subject, I'd be able to open another store."

Blitzø almost looked disappointed at the explanation. "It's not a sex book?"

"No, but it is a title I think more people should read. It's one of my favorites."

"That so? Well, I'll get this then."

Stolas rung up Blitzø’s purchase then saw him off. A nagging feeling of annoyance started gnawing at Stolas, wondering why the two times he crossed paths with Blitzø started with Blitzø getting into trouble. It was probably just a strange coincidence, nothing more.

With that, he went back to cleaning.

----

It was several weeks after that second encounter before Blitzø made his presence known at the bookstore again. He showed up shortly before the store was about to close for the night, Stolas busy re-shelving books when the bell above the door chimed. He only gave Blitzø a quick glance out of the corner of his eye before returning to shelving.

"Hey," Blitzø shyly started as he stepped between Stolas and the bookshelves, "I didn’t mean to end things like that last time. Got this bad habit of speaking before thinking."

Stolas – having endured a long day of playing phone tag with a plumber, then capped off by a customer spending ten minutes insisting that he had a particular title in stock when he most definitely did not – was not in the mood. "I've heard enough empty apologies in my life, so don't waste my time if you don’t mean it."

(Art by Kaz)

He heard a snarl from Blitzø before he felt the hem of his sweater getting grabbed and being yanked down to Blitzø's eye level. "Look," Blitzø growled, "this aloof asshole schtick is getting fucking old. I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in Hell. Of course life's gonna be shit."

Something in Blitzø's glare shook something loose in Stolas. "I…I-I'm sorry. I just had a rough day."

Blitzø let go. "There, now that wasn't so hard, was it? How about we start over?"

Stolas cleared his throat before extending his hand. "Very well. I'm Stolas."

"Blitzø. The O's silent." A loud gurgle came from Blitzø's stomach. "Shit, I should get something to eat. You wanna come with? There's a diner near here that makes a bombass omelet."

Really? Even after how Stolas had treated him, he wanted to be cordial? Maybe he was just one of those people who tried to be friendly with those they should steer clear of. Whatever – he will just humor him for now.

"If you insist. I just need to close things up for the night."

Once that was done, he met with Blitzø outside the bookstore. What a strange sight the two must have made to others: a disgraced ex-royal and a scarred imp. But Stolas had stopped giving a shit about others' opinions of him a long time ago – he was not going to start doing so now.

"So how shit was your day?" Blitzø asked as they started walking.

"Oh, it wasn't much. The hot water stopped working in my apartment, and it's been a game of just-missed calls with a plumber all day. We finally connected, thankfully, but I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"You couldn't get the landlord to do that?"

"Er, I own the building my apartment's in, so I am the landlord."

"No shit? Any other tenants?"

"Not as yet. I'm still getting used to living on my own, and I've been here for over a year now."

"Hey, shit can be hard to get used to. Sometimes you gotta roll with the punches, other times you gotta tell life to go fuck itself."

Stolas hummed at the summary of his recent history. "So you like this diner?"

"Yeah, real cheap, like me. You'd never expect good food from how it looks." He looked up. "Ah, here it is."

Blitzø was not exaggerating with that descriptor. The diner had two windows – or what should be windows – covered in cardboard, and it was desperate need of a paint job. The sign was broken to the point where one could not tell what the name of the establishment even was.

Blitzø could sense Stolas' hesitance, pulling him into the diner. "Hey, you of all people should know not to judge a book by its cover."

Stolas could not argue with that logic.

----

The next several weeks proved to be a much-needed shot in the arm for Stolas. Twice a week, Blitzø would come by before Stolas would close up for the night then take him to the diner to get something to eat. (Blitzø paid for the first few times, but Stolas insisted they go Dutch afterwards.) They also started texting regularly, though Blitzø's spelling left a lot to be desired.

He heard more about Blitzø's life during this time. He made a living doing odd jobs, often doing food deliveries and being a cab driver. He had a daughter – Loona – whom he adored, as shown by the many photos on his phone (she was scowling in the bulk of them). He had grown up in the circus, though his features became pained when he spoke at length about it. (Stolas stopped asking about that time in Blitzø’s life.)

Stolas had quietly opened up about his life, but kept it to speaking about Via. (He knew Blitzø would not be interested in hearing about his ugly divorce and uglier marriage, not after how the tabloids had spun them.) He told Blitzø that he regretted not being more involved in her life when she needed him the most, which he was certain played into how easily their bond fractured. He only hoped that Via would grow past her resentment, whenever that may be.

One night, Blitzø decided to change up their usual evening routine. "Tell you what, birdie, let's try someplace new tonight."

"You're getting tired of the diner?"

"Nah, I figure they're getting tired of us. Anyway, there's a bar not far from here that I usually go to. Thought it'd be a good idea for you to rub elbows with us lowlifes."

The bar itself was a melting pot of demons, Sinners and Hellborn alike. A six-armed Sinner tended bar while another group of imps were having a drinking contest. Out of the corner of his eye, Stolas saw a pair of succubi getting hot and heavy in a booth, one having her hand up the other’s skirt.

All these stimuli were almost too much for Stolas to handle.

"You okay, Stolas?" Blitzø asked as they made their way through the throng.

"I’m fine," Stolas lied, the bass of the music pounding loudly into his head. "It's just…I've never really been to a bar before."

“Never? Well, guess there's a first time for everything." He smacked his palm on the bar. "Pick your poison. I'm buying."

"Oh, um, just whatever's on tap, I suppose."

"Nah, you deserve some nice shit." He waved to the bartender. "Give us whatever's in that blue bottle behind you."

The bartender poured out two small shots for them. Stolas had an inkling that whatever he was about to drink had a kick to it, which was confirmed by Blitzø immediately going into a hacking fit from swigging his shot.

"Fuck!" Blitzø wheezed. "I've drunk battery acid less poisonous than this shit! What the fuck did you serve us?!"

"That is what I used to clean the bar," the bartender flatly replied before going to serve another customer.

Stolas could not help himself. He immediately started tittering at what just happened.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Blitzø wheezed. "At least you were smart not to drink it. Never doing that again. But I've said that before."

Stolas shifted his leg even so slightly – which was enough for him to accidentally trip a passing demon. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!"

"Fuck you," spat the other demon from the ground. "Think you're better than me because you're a Goetia, you prissy ass bitch?"

Before Stolas could even reply, Blitzø drove his foot into the demon's face. "If you mess with him, you're messing with me, you fucking cum stain."

The demon stood up, nose bloody and brandishing a switchblade. "Gladly."

What soon followed was a melee of punches, kicks, and bites, all from Blitzø. A crowd soon gathered around the fight, but Stolas kept his distance, not wanting to cause any more trouble than he already had. But as this was happening, Stolas realized this was probably the first time in his life that anyone defended him.

It felt…nice. Pleasant. Comforting.

Was…was this what it felt like when someone cared about you?

----

It was after another evening trip through Pride that made Stolas certain of one thing: he liked having Blitzø around. Sure, there were times where Blitzø's crassness got him in bigger trouble than he was already in, but after the stifling life Stolas had led, Blitzø was almost a breath of fresh air.

He liked how at ease Blitzø was around him despite barely knowing him. Even the servants he had known for most of his life had always felt distant. Maybe he should be more open to the world around him. He deserved that at least.

Stolas and Blitzø were coming back from a movie when Stolas had worked up courage for the first time in his life. "Would you…would you like to come up for a drink?"

Blitzø flashed a quick smile. "I'd like that."

When they stepped foot into his apartment, Stolas regretted not tidying the place up beforehand. Then again, he was not originally planning to have someone up here; outside of the odd handyman, it was just him in this apartment.

"Sorry for the mess," Stolas shyly stated as he moved to the kitchenette. "I…don’t have a lot of people coming to see me usually."

"Nah, it's fine. My place is more of a dump anyway. Besides, your place is very…you."

Stolas knew a backhanded compliment when he heard one. "Er, thank you."

"No, no, I meant it feels really lived in. Other people's apartments look like shitty copies of furniture catalogs. No life to them at all."

So that was an actual compliment. "I see." He poured out a finger of rum for them both. "I don’t hope you don't mind rum. It's all I have at the moment."

Blitzø sat down on the chaise lounge, looking small on it. "Nah, it's fine. So have you gotten used to being a commoner yet?"

Stolas downed his drink in one go as he sat down next to Blitzø. (He did not notice Blitzø's concern at the action.) "I mean, it's still hard. I miss Via even though she hates me, there are days where I don't want to get out of bed, and I feel like I've bitten off more than I can chew in starting over. But at the same time…I'm glad that I've met you. Since you came into my life, I'm happier than I've ever been."

Without warning, Blitzø pressed Stolas flat on the chaise lounge and kissed him. Stolas felt a jolt of energy coursing through him, unlike anything he had felt before. Stolas wrapped his arms around Blitzø as Blitzø's tongue went into his mouth. He moaned as he felt Blitzø's hand go under his shirt, hiking it up to expose his stomach.

Stolas whined when Blitzø pulled away, but it was what he saw that nearly made him melt. Blitzø was looking at him in pure hunger, his eyes dark and blown out. His tail cracked like a whip behind him. And his tongue greedily ran over his sharp teeth, eager to get a taste of Stolas.

"Blitzø…," Stolas sighed, a trembling hand trailing up Blitzø's torso. "Take me to bed."

Blitzø did not need to be asked a second time.

----

The morning light slipped through the blinds as he stretched out under the sheets. For the first time since he started over, Stolas felt at ease, finally having some semblance of personal relief.

The other side of the bed was empty but still warm, meaning Blitzø had recently woken up. He could hear Blitzø in the front room, presumably on his phone. Maybe he could persuade Blitzø to stay for breakfast before he left.

(Wait, did he have enough for breakfast? He should have gone to the store.)

As he reached over to get his robe, he heard Blitzø's voice getting louder. Must be a real nuisance if it was this early in the day. When he got to the threshold of his bedroom, Blitzø spat out something that made Stolas' blood run cold:

"I don't care how much you're paying me, I can't fucking kill him, okay?"

He had to have heard Blitzø wrong. He could not have been talking about him, not after what they did the night before. Not after everything before that.

Was…was everything Blitzø told him a lie?

He waited until he heard Blitzø finish his call, his hurt fermenting into rage all the while. He stomped out to see Blitzø tucking his phone away. How could he be so calm after what he just said?

"Oh, hey, Stolas, I was about to head out—"

"Who was that?"

Blitzø reeled as though Stolas had outright slapped him. "…How much did you hear?"

"Enough. Who was it?"

"…Will you promise not to get mad at me?"

That did not instill a lot of faith in Stolas, but he nodded.

"Those first few times we met were…were me scoping the place out. I had paid those guys to chase me to make you think I was just being bullied, to let your guard down. I was…I was hired to…to kill you. By your father. That's who was on the phone. He wanted you gone for – in his words – straying."

No. No, his father could not possibly do something as vile as that. Neglect was one thing, but murder? And for something that petty?

"He's been pressuring me to do it, but after spending all this time with you…how could I?"

"…Get out."

"Stolas, I'm sorry, please –"

"OUT!"

Blitzø staggered at the shout, nearly stumbling backwards. He scrambled toward the door, fleeing without another word. He was lucky that Stolas did not have his powers anymore – he would have become nothing more than a stain on the floor.

The only sound in the apartment was Stolas' ragged breathing as he stared at the closed door. He slowly sank to his knees, feeling as though his legs were going to give out. His vision became blurry as he tried to process what had just happened.

It was then that he felt something inside him shatter.

He hunched forward as sobs wracked his thin frame, the weight of everything collapsing on top of him. He gasped for breath as every sneering insult he had heard in his life rang loudly in his head, each one more spiteful than the last, all mocking his pain. He tried to muffle himself, but it was no use – the floodgates had opened.

How could he have been so naïve? How could he think that anyone would care about him? Why should anyone care about him? He was brought into this world as nothing more than a thing in his father's life, only to be used for one purpose, and he could not even do that right.

Nobody cared about him.

Nobody loved him.

If the universe was determined to break him, it had succeeded.

----

It had been months since Blitzø had ground Stolas' trust under his boot heel. After that day, Stolas reverted to his detached state, refusing to let anyone play him like a fool so cruelly again. The late-night excursions in Pride stopped, certain locations now painful reminders of all-too-brief happier times. The drinking had increased, Stolas now determined to drown himself in his own misery.

He was an idiot for trusting a stranger. He should have never made himself so vulnerable that they ended up in bed together. Was he that fucking pathetic that his own father wanted him dead? Stella and Andrealphus he could understand – they made no effort in hiding how much they loathed him – but his father? He shuddered to think that he treated his siblings (whoever they were) the same way.

It was again a slow day (thankfully). Stolas sat behind the sales counter trying to solve the crossword in the newspaper as a means to distract himself. (He rarely did them because there was no challenge to it, the clues being so uninspired to answers that were blatantly obvious.) He ignored the bell over the door, thinking it was just another Sinner wanting to browse the shelves. It was what he heard next that made him feel like Hell itself had frozen over.

"Dad?"

He nearly gave himself whiplash in turning his head, the pen dropping from his hand. He was not imagining things – Octavia was actually here. Aside from being in more formal clothing (most likely at Stella's insistence), she looked as she did when she disowned him over a year ago.

"Via…," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"I…I-I need to talk to you. Is there somewhere we can do that?"

He was on his feet and bringing Octavia back into the lounge before he realized what he was doing. This had to be a dream. There was no way she wanted him back in her life, not after everything he did out of selfishness.

"So," Stolas started awkwardly as he and Octavia sat down, "how is everything?"

She shrugged. "It could be better. The phone calls I keep getting to do prophecies are annoying."

Stolas huffed, not missing that detail of his past duties. "But do you enjoy doing them?"

"I mean…I don't hate them, but they're not fun either." She picked at a thread on her sleeve. "I'm sorry, by the way. For what I said."

He reached out for her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "Via, it's okay. You had every right to be mad at me. I was only thinking of myself then."

"But why did you do it? Why did you throw your life away?"

He squeezed her hand, steadying himself for what he was about to say. In the past, he had tried to imagine this scenario, what he would say when the time came, but it always ended with her becoming more furious with him. He did not think his heart could take it if that was what was to happen.

He let out a shaky breath, keeping his eyes lowered. "I…I couldn't stand living like that anymore. Every time I did anything, I felt like I was being watched, like every mistake I made would haunt me for the rest of my life. Your grandfather made sure to remind me of that whenever he actually saw me, and your mother hung that over my head like a knife. It was…fucking insufferable."

"Dad…"

"Nothing I did was good enough for anybody. Every time I thought I achieved something, they said that it wasn't enough. They wanted me to be someone I'm not. They wanted me to be a good son, husband, and father – I'm none of those things. All I am is a complete disgrace –"

He was stopped by Octavia wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed against his face as her shoulders shook. He gently put his arms around her, holding her as he did when she was smaller after she had a bad dream. He did not know if the tears he felt on his face were his own, Octavia's, or both.

"I had to get out, Starfire," he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he held Octavia tighter, fearing he would lose her again. "If I had stayed, I would've done something I could never undo. I'm sorry for not telling you any of this sooner."

She leaned back to wipe her eyes, the pink glowing amid her sorrow. "Dad, there's nothing to apologize for. If anyone needs to apologize, it's them. And I know for a fact they won't do so even under threat of death."

Stolas chuckled as he wiped his eyes. Oh, how he had missed her dark sense of humor. "They…haven’t been treating you poorly, have they?"

She shook her head though Stolas could tell that was not the whole truth. Another time, not right now. If there was another time.

“I'm sorry, Dad. I…I-I really shouldn't have said those things that day."

He brought her closer, her chin resting on his shoulder. "You were angry, Via. You were only told half of the story."

She hugged him. "Can we start over? Like I never said those things before you left?"

"Of course, Starfire. Anything for you."

She sniffled as she stood up. "I should be getting back. I'm expecting a call soon."

"Can I see you again?"

She nodded. That more than made up for the past year of heartache.

As he saw her to the front door, a question popped into Stolas' head. "How did you find out where I was, Via?"

"Someone sent me a letter. It had a business card with it." She took out the card from her coat pocket, one of its corners bent.

He knew who told her.

Even after what Blitzø had put him through, Stolas could not bring himself to delete his number. After Octavia left, he quickly sent out a message.

Can you meet me outside the bookstore after it closes? I want to talk.

He got a reply almost instantly.

yeh

The rest of the day felt agonizingly slow, the ticking minutes feeling like hours. By closing time, Stolas felt like all his nerves were frayed. And he had not even spoken to Blitzø yet.

As Stolas switched off the lights, he saw Blitzø standing outside the front window, his tail flicking anxiously behind him. He looked exhausted, as if the last few months had weighed as heavily on him as they did on Stolas. And as soon as Blitzø made eye contact with him, Stolas felt his heart skip a beat.

"Hi," Stolas said as he stepped out, almost breathlessly.

Blitzø could not bring himself to look at Stolas, hugging himself as he trembled under Stolas' gaze. "I hated lying to you, Stolas. You don't deserve to be treated like that, especially not by a complete fuck-up like me. Just say that you hate me so you can move on with your life."

Stolas got down on his knees to face Blitzø. "Did you tell Via where I was?"

Fat tears started welling up in Blitzø's eyes, still not looking at Stolas. "She still hates you. I fucking knew it. Why do I always fuck up everything? I can’t even do something like that right."

"Blitzø. Could you look at me?"

Blitzø faced him but kept his eyes lowered. "Stolas, just forget about me, please. I just ruin everything."

Stolas only tilted Blitzø's chin up and kissed him.

It was just as electrical as the first time, but this one felt like there was…more. More promise, more desire, just more. And Stolas could not get enough of it.

When they broke apart, Stolas took hold of Blitz's hands, running his thumbs over the backs of them as he had with Via earlier that day. He rested his forehead against Blitzø's, who only leaned into it.

"I've missed you," Stolas said quietly.

"I've missed you too," Blitzø said wetly. “Can we take this discussion somewhere else? I don't wanna be crying in public."

Stolas scooped Blitzø up into his arms, carrying him up to his apartment as a groom would with a bride. Blitzø only nuzzled into Stolas, his arms wrapping around his neck. He was not entirely sure, but Stolas was certain he felt Blitzø purring during this.

----

It had been a year since he and Blitzø had reconciled. It took some time before Stolas felt comfortable opening up to Blitzø like that again, that nagging feeling that everything would be used against him never fully disappearing. But Blitzø was willing to wait, admitting he felt that way sometimes too. (Stolas sensed that Blitzø went through something horrible himself, but he was not going to push the matter, not like that. He wanted Blitzø to tell him himself.)

Blitzø himself felt like he did not deserve any sort of relationship with Stolas after how they had first started. He repeatedly questioned Stolas as to why he was willing to give him a second chance after everything. Each time, Stolas replied that Blitzø gave him an opportunity to be happy – he was only returning the favor.

The night of their reunion, Blitzø confessed that he only worked as an assassin because it 'paid well' even though his heart was not really in it most of the time, preferring his other side gigs instead. He had quit the business completely following their fight, with it being the key factor in his decision. That said, he had promised to keep Stolas safe should Paimon still want him dead. (Stolas knew that his father could be dead set on wanting something done his way, no matter the cost. After all, Stolas' own life was proof of that.)

Since that time, Blitzø had moved into Stolas' apartment (Loona stayed at the old one, paying her share of the rent thanks to her job as a waitress), bringing with him two suitcases with his clothes – and an absurd number of horse plushies. Stolas thought they were a little silly at first glance, but once they had been placed around the apartment (with a few sneaking into the bookstore, resting atop the shelves beside the plants), he realized they added personality to the space. (He had yet to admit so to Blitzø, but his favorite of the plushies was 'Gravy Ladle', a pale brown and yellow one that was missing an eye, which Stolas kept on the sales counter.)

Blitzø had gotten a steadier job, becoming a bouncer at the bar he and Stolas had frequented in the early days of their relationship. (Turned out that bar fight was more than enough incentive to hire him.) Since he was working at night on top of the odd jobs, that meant his day off was spent getting enough rest for his shift the next day or running errands. But if time permitted, he would help Stolas at the bookstore. Nothing much, just watering plants and cleaning while Stolas was placing customer orders or balancing his checkbook in the back.

Sometimes – like today – Blitzø helped with shelving the books.

"Seriously, why is this section mostly these two authors?" Blitzø asked in front of the 'future arrivals' section.

Stolas put down his watering can. "Well, according to some of my regulars, they were once well respected. Then one had emphatically expressed views that would make that woman on the news look pleasant, and the other one preyed on people whose trust he had betrayed."

"Yeesh. I'd take it some of the other names on these shelves are the same?"

His beak pressed into a thin line. "Not as severe as those two, but yes."

"Eugh. Changing the subject entirely and completely, is Octavia still stopping by tomorrow?"

That was another recent bright spot in Stolas' life. Since finding out what her mother had put Stolas through on a daily basis (and kicking Stella to the curb as a result), Octavia became determined to reconnect with her father. Because Octavia was of age, any control Stella might have had over her in the past had severely weakened, meaning Octavia was more than permitted to see Stolas without any pushback. But she still took her duties seriously, so that meant most of their interactions were through texts – even then, that was more than enough for Stolas.

"She is, yes. I just wish you weren't working tomorrow. Then the four of us could go to the diner."

"Look, I'm just glad she and Loonie clicked. I thought they wouldn't because of…y'know."

Stolas scoffed. "Oh, darling, status is overrated. If people don't like them being friends, that's their problem."

"Is that what you tell people about us too?" Blitzø said in a coy tone.

"Blitzø!" Stolas gasped in faux offense. "You know full well I say worse than that."

"I know. And I wouldn't have it any other way either."