Chapter Text
Octavia threw one final box into her closet and shut the door, turning to face her bedroom that was now nearly unrecognizable. Her shelves, previously filled with precarious piles of astronomy books and sculptures of stars and planets, now only held her folded clothes. Her telescope was gone, as was the model mobile solar system hanging in the center of her room and the star chart rug. The painting of her and her dad no longer hung on the wall, though a patch of darkened wallpaper clearly marked where it used to be. Her headboard and bed curtains were no longer strewn with stars, her comforter was missing its moon pattern, and no constellations twinkled overhead on the ceiling.
She stepped forward as her head swiveled slowly, taking in her redecorated bedroom. Except there wasn't really more to it than an absence of what had been there before—she had nothing to replace any of it with. So instead, the space looked characterless and barely inhabited, like she was a ghost haunting a place that was no longer her own.
Octavia sighed as she turned back toward the bed and the guitar that lay on it. Reluctantly, she took her guitar in her hands and looked it over, debating. Octavia rotated it and flinched as she was confronted with the affectionate message scrawled on the back—"Love, Dad." Her grip tightened reflexively and she set her jaw as she walked it over to her closet, leaving it in its new resting place in the very back, atop the boxes packed full of things that had belonged in her childhood bedroom. She took one more look at her eerily empty bedroom before snatching her cardigan from her couch and quickly striding out into the hallway.
The palace halls were silent, not a living thing in sight. Frost coated the floors and crept up the walls, and abstract blocks of ice were scattered about. Octavia's breath puffed into little clouds in front of her as she wrapped her arms around herself and hurried on through. As she got closer to the main wing of the palace, gleaming statues of her uncle cluttered the space, duplicates of the larger ones out front that were visible through the windows.
The paintings on the walls had changed as well; her father was conspicuously absent among the tacky portraits of family members on her mother's side. Octavia grimaced at the one picture she passed that included her, made when she was still a young child and her mother had forced her to sit for a formal portrait. It wasn't badly done even if it was gaudy, but Octavia couldn't look at it without remembering how she'd begun to tear up with boredom and discomfort during the long hours of being painted until her dad suddenly made purple sparks of magic dance in the air over the artist's shoulder. She'd been entranced, thoroughly distracted until the painting had been completed and her dad took her out to play in the garden.
At last, she reached the kitchen, but a quick glance inside found no one there. She took a few more steps down the hall to peek into the dining room, where her mum and uncle usually took their meals, only to find its chairs empty as well. It took some time to locate them, her mother's cackling laughter finally leading her to one of the sitting rooms.
"Can you imagine?! It's such a relief not to have his nagging, dour ass telling me to rein it in, or that I can't have the party run too late because it's not fair to the staff!" her mother was exclaiming loudly to her uncle as Octavia entered the parlor.
Uncle Andy rolled his eyes. "Ridiculous! What the heaven do we pay them for if a little late night gala is too much to handle?" he sneered as he beckoned one of the servants over to refill his tea. The imp's gaze was cast downward, careful to avoid showing any reaction to the conversation even as Octavia's uncle flashed a contemptuous grin at her.
Octavia's mouth twitched with discomfort, but she knew that anything she said would likely just encourage her uncle to treat the staff worse out of spite. Instead, she focused her attention on her mother. "Mum, could I have the chauffeur drive me to the mall after school tomorrow? I need to pick out some new stuff for my room."
Her mum's head snapped up in surprise from where she was seated as a servant buffed her nails. "What?"
Octavia sighed. "The mall. After school tomorrow. To get things for my room."
"Oh, you mean you're finally ready to let me redecorate your chambers?" her mother said with an exasperated eye-roll. "I'll call that interior designer that Duchess Bi—"
"No, I want to decorate it." Octavia frowned. "It's my room."
Her mother waved her free hand dismissively. "Yes, whatever, they'll give you options, darling."
"I don't want—"
"Listen to your mother, Octavia," Uncle Andy chided, his voice dripping with condescension. She flashed a glare at him, which he met with a wicked grin. There was little love lost between the two of them, any vague sense of kinship destroyed when she'd bruised her uncle's ego a few weeks ago when… well.
She turned back to her mother. "I just want to do it myself, all right? I'm almost an adult anyways," Octavia huffed. "And no one has to see what it looks like besides me."
Her mum studied her for a couple seconds before letting out an irritated sigh. "Fine, do whatever you want," she said indifferently as she shifted her attention back to her nails as Octavia blinked at the abrupt dismissal. Oblivious to her daughter's reaction, Stella picked up her conversation with Octavia's uncle again. "I swear, Stolas ruined every party I planned. I finally can throw a truly fashionable ball without him moping in the corner, bringing the mood down while—"
"Mum, could you just… not do that in front of me?" Octavia cut in as she folded her arms, shoulders hiking up toward her ears.
Her mother startled like she'd forgotten Octavia was even there. "Do what?" she asked as she eyed Octavia, disgruntled by the interruption.
Octavia huffed. "Talk about—"
"Oh, your deadbeat father? The one who abandoned you for his little boy toy?" her mum simpered.
Octavia dug her claws into the flesh of her arms as she grimaced. "Yeah. That."
"Good riddance to him," Uncle Andy muttered none too softly.
Stella cackled. "Yes! No one here is missing that pathetic excuse of a Goetia. Cheating prick—"
Octavia's hands balled into fists at her side as she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, neither adult acknowledging her departure in any way as her mum continued tacking on more jabs at her dad. She fumed as she strode quickly down the hallway, until she collided with a small body that went "oomph!" as it tumbled sideways and the tray it held fell with a clatter. Octavia looked down in alarm to see their former butler—demoted by her mother once she'd moved back into the palace simply because he'd technically been her father's butler—picking himself up with a grimace as he started quickly replacing the pastries that had fallen to the floor.
"Sorry, I'm so sorry, Pringles—I didn't—" she started guiltily.
He shook his head. "No worries, Your Highness. You were clearly preoccupied and I should have stepped aside."
"Oh. R- right." Octavia frowned as she rubbed her arm awkwardly. She looked down the hall. "I guess I'll just… go."
Pringles peered up at her with concern. "Do you need anything, Your Highness? Octavia?" he asked. "You seem upset—I can bring some tea or—"
"Where in the Seven Rings is my pistachio croissant I asked for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES AGO?!" Her mother's shriek could be heard clearly even from around the turn of the hallway. Pringles flinched and Octavia shook her head.
"I'm fine, Pringles. Sorry again," she said quickly as she hugged herself and continued on her way, shoulders hunched as she trekked to her room. She sighed as she finally slipped inside and closed the door, leaning her back against it and staring at the ceiling as her pounding heart gradually settled, leaving behind a sense of aching hollowness in her chest.
Her mother had certainly never been the warmer of her two parents, but Octavia couldn't remember Stella being so uncaring, even callous, toward her before. But everything had changed after her dad cheated, and practically overnight her mum transformed, too subsumed by rage and vengeance to maintain a relationship with her daughter that went beyond pushing Octavia further away from her father. For the millionth time, Octavia found herself wishing for that time before her dad had ruined everything—when he had never left, when her mum had actually cared for her, even when her uncle didn't hate her.
Octavia's phone buzzed, temporarily pulling her out of her thoughts as she pulled it out of her pocket—it was just a pointless Sinstagram notification about people she followed posting on another Voxtech app that Octavia refused to download. She tapped on the notification anyways and began scrolling through her feed as she absently walked over to sit on her bed, distracting herself from her gloomy reflections. Octavia only half paid attention to the images and videos going by, the disquiet in the back of her mind still too loud as she sporadically paused to share an angsty meme to her stories before moving on. A new Sinsta notification popped up, drawing Octavia's eyes to the top of her screen.
moonlight_howling_666 liked your story.
Octavia's beak twitched into a small smile as she read Loona's username. She had worried that after that day in L.A., she'd never interact again with Loona, who'd figured out how to find her when their dads couldn't and talked Octavia through her feelings. She'd been thrilled when the cool older girl—who certainly seemed way too cool to be interested in spending any time on Octavia—requested to follow her later that night and accepted Octavia's immediate follow back. Since then, they regularly liked each other's stories and posts, sometimes even sending emoji reactions or short comments. For the past couple months, Octavia had been worried that she'd need to avoid Loona's profile, because as much as she looked up to the self-assured hellhound she couldn't stand the thought of coming across posts with either of their dads. But Loona had just stuck to posting her usual selfies and ironic still life shots, so Octavia had decided she was safe for now.
She looked through Loona's active Sinstagram stories—party pics from Gluttony, it looked like—and reacted with a fire emoji to a photo showing off Loona's makeup. As soon as she returned to her feed, though, the small smile slipped back off her face as she immediately started ruminating on her absent father and overbearing, uncaring guardians.
A self-destructive impulse had her tapping through her settings and staring at the one name on her blocked list—LIAR 👿 DO NOT ANSWER—as her finger hovered over it unsteadily. She could really dig into the hurt and unblock her dad's new number. See that he still didn't call or text, or get flooded with messages she'd ignore, or even reach out to him just to remind him that he fucking abandoned her here in this cold place that was home in name only.
She didn't, though. Instead, she went to Hellify and put her library on shuffle before tossing her phone onto her bed, scowling at it as she ignored the angry tears stinging her eyes. Octavia glanced around her unfamiliar room; she almost didn't even want to be in it. It had become more of an enclosure than a refuge—she rarely left it for long, as so much of the palace either reminded her of better times and a loving father that only brought bitterness now, or was too fucking freezing to tolerate.
Plus, it was getting more and more preferable to avoid her mother and uncle, or really anyone. She had started fantasizing about turning eighteen and completely severing herself from her entire family. No one around to lie and pretend to care about her, or be too wrapped in their own bullshit to really see her. Just herself.
Octavia took a deep breath before moving toward her desk and the half-finished taxidermy project spread across its surface. She dropped heavily into her chair and picked up her tools, willing herself to get lost in the process and take her mind off of… well, everything.
She'd just gotten into a flow state, the song that was playing launching into its epic guitar riff bridge, when it suddenly cut out, interrupted by the sharp ping of a notification. Octavia groaned loudly and stomped back toward her bed to put her phone on Do Not Disturb. She grabbed her phone and turned it face up, anticipating another dumb notification, but as the screen lit up under her touch she froze, her brain short-circuiting momentarily at the banner citing the source of the text notification.
Dad, calling from shitty boyfriend's phone.
Shit. She hadn't thought to block the imp's number when she'd gotten the text from her dad the day after Sinsmas, explaining that he'd gotten a new phone and wanted her to have his number in case she needed him for anything. Like he really fucking cared about what she needed, when he'd been the one to fucking leave her alone here.
She tapped the banner urgently, before she has the chance to think twice about it, and determinedly ignored the previous texts in the channel as she stared at the message.
Heyy itz Blitz, nut ur dad. Promiss.
"What the fuck?" Octavia mumbled aloud, her brow furrowing further as an audio message popped up beneath the text. It was a couple minutes long, and the preview transcript read "Hey Octavia this is this is Blitz listen I know you probably don't want to hear…" She stared at the screen for a long moment, waiting to see if another message or the typing bubbles popped up, but there was nothing.
This had to be just another ploy from her dad, right? Using his boyfriend to try to trick her into listening to him, or to guilt her into unblocking him. She couldn't imagine why Blitz would reach out to her otherwise. He'd already gotten what he wanted and stolen her dad away from her—what was the use in reaching out to Octavia, other than to rub that in?
She tapped the audio message and held down, selecting the message and staring at the delete button just below it. Octavia wavered though, morbid curiosity warring with her instinctual avoidance. What could be in that message? Would it be something she'd regret not hearing? Or… or would it just make her feel worse than she already did?
After a tense pause, she tapped away and left the message in place. For a moment, she considered blocking this number too, but just closed out of her phone and hit play on her music again. She returned to her desk, hands trembling and frustrating her taxidermy progress as her mind wandered back to her father, his boyfriend and the unplayed voice memo much more than she'd like.