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Mephisto was a simple man.
He liked pretty girls.
And lately, he found himself surrounded by exactly that. Naturally, he always imagined or at least fantasized that he’d become a heart throb and the envy of every man on Ephedia. His life, of course, never quite unfolded into the design he had desired. Still, he couldn’t complain too much about his luck. He’d survived the unthinkable, and now he was on Earth in a cozy little house filled to the brim with some of the most beautiful ladies he’d ever laid his eyes upon. Even their caretaker, the levelheaded matriarch Ellira, was still quite lovely, even if to him she seemed ancient.
It was no surprise that the crown princess of Ephedia was beautiful. She had a heart shaped face with porcelain skin, flushed pink and covered in freckles. Her doe-like eyes were like the clear skies of Earth, a deep light blue with flecks of rose. Her hair was a sea of golden waves, shimmering in the sunlight like a golden halo, something Mephisto akined to exactly what one would expect of a member of the Ephedian royal bloodline. Her style was sweet and romantic, and you would think she would be gentle and shy, not the rambunctious and honestly annoying peppy type. Although he must admit, the giant bows should’ve been a red flag that she’d be the type to be overtly nice and in your business. He was still getting used to her.
Even when transformed, her layers of pink and gold overwhelmed his eyes. She was like a walking cupcake and an angel had a baby. Not that he didn’t like that about her, she was just very different from the women of his realm, who wore darker tones and rarely had such vibrant adornments. Perhaps that was a perk of being blessed by the Melzors and a wealthy bloodline. He had come to understand that while Iris had the appeal of a serene princess, she was equally capable of being passionate and even a little scary. Still, he figured that was part of her allure, as he had not heard any complaints from her more level-headed boyfriend.
Where Iris was like the blooming rebirth of spring, the eldest daughter of Volta was like a hot, molten summer with fiery red hair and sun-kissed skin. The desert born princess had caught his eye immediately, and that seemed to be the effect she had on most boys. Her energy was electric; she was playful, flirty, and capable of finding joy in the littlest of things. Her large, round eyes sparkled like emeralds and her moon-faced structure only upped her cuteness. She was the most petite and the youngest of the three heroes he lived with, and she was also the only one to really flirt back when she could actually pick up on the fact that he was trying to flirt with her. She could catch on in a heartbeat where other boys came into the picture, but for some cruel reason Mephisto could only believe to be a curse on his name, she often responded with confusion when it came to him, leaving him both frustrated and flustered.
In her magical form, she shone like the sun. Strawberry blonde ribbons bounced and flowed around her agile body, her long ponytail giving the illusion of being light as a feather. To her it probably was, but to Mephisto, he’d been smacked in the face by it enough to know it was thick and had a sting equal to her whip. Her pouty lips were painted a peachy hue, often stretched into a playful grin. She was the easiest princess to get along with, and truth be told, he, like many of the boys in Sunny Bay, had a crush on her.
Or at least, he thought he did.
He grimaced from his spot on the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table as he leaned back into the cushions arms crossed. Next to him, Aunt Ellen, or rather, Ellira, was clapping along to the pop track blasting through the speakers as Amaru did the same from her lap. He looked down at his own familiar, Roku, a black and teal serpent that was wiggling and swaying from his spot on the table. He’d been roped into reviewing another stupid song. The girls had been rehearsing the new choreography all week, and were finally accustomed to singing and dancing in sync to their new song. Mephisto didn’t hate it, in fact, he was waiting on their call, eager to watch and he cursed himself for it. He was trying his best to look disinterested, to look unhappy, but he couldn’t help the twisting in his stomach and the way his heart pounded in his chest louder than the bass blasting through the speakers.
‘She was just too damn cool!’
Mephisto closed his eyes, laying his chin on his palm before opening them again. They narrowed in on her in an instant. He couldn’t help himself. In the last couple months, he’d found himself in this state. From the day she risked her life to save him, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d always had a lot of brilliant schemes up there, but now it was crowded with endless possibilities about one thing. His breath caught in his throat as he watched rich, chocolate locks flutter with each turn and spin. His jaw tightened. Never in all his days did he think he would be in this situation. With Iris, there was an attraction. With Auriana, there was a flutter in his heart. But with Talia, well, he didn’t think he could even describe it. He couldn’t possibly put what he felt into words.
No, no he could.
Mephisto was disgustingly, absolutely, undeniably obsessed with every fiber of her being.
He felt his face flush and a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t help it. He was sick of himself. How could this happen? If he had to describe her when he’d first met her, he would’ve described her as not bad on the eyes, but terrifying as hell and difficult to handle. All the princesses were pretty. And in his naivety, in his brash eagerness, he could admit he was blinded by the sun and the moon. Now all he could see were the sparkling stars, diamonds twinkling in the night.
She was, in fact, beautiful.
Talia was like the winter. She was cold and often unforgiving, sometimes even harsh. But she was also soft and elegant like snowfall. Gentle in her touch and swift in her actions. Her eyes were like amber, warm like a fireplace on a cold night. Her deep brown tresses were like roasted chestnuts tossed in sweet cinnamon, although he loved her natural blue much more. He had lost count of how many times he’d caught himself staring at her back, tracing over the cascading wall of cyan that fell over her shoulders like a waterfall breaking free of the permeating frost. He desperately wanted to run his fingers through those icy tresses. Hell, he wanted to kiss every curl.
‘Disgusting…’ He scolded himself, ‘We aren’t that desperate.’
He was, in fact, that desperate.
He cleared his throat as each girl faced backstage, leaning and turning their torso to look at their audience and blow a kiss.
‘Nononononono-!’ He crossed his arms, forcing up a deep scowl, ‘Don’t you dare!’
Talia turned on cue, whipping her hair back off her shoulders, a playful wink crumbling his resolve. He flinched and clenched his jaw, curses jumbling around in his brain.
‘Please! Have mercy!’ He was internally screaming, watching as her long, slender fingers rose towards their destination. Mephisto swallowed hard, feeling like the world was moving at half the speed it should've been. Calloused fingers, tempered by rigorous training, guitar strumming, and keyboard playing, pressed gently into the most lusciously full lips he'd ever wanted to kiss. A soft whimper escaped him as they puckered and he felt his stomach tighten as she blew her kiss playfully into the make believe crowd.
He jumped for it.
‘Klatznick!’ He froze, arm raised, standing in the center of the room as the girls stopped singing. He wanted to die. Again. For real this time.
“Mephisto,” Talia turned to stare at him, a puzzled expression on her face, “What are you doing?”
He could feel his cheeks getting hot as he quickly sat back down on the couch, scratching at the back of his head, “Ahh…haha…uh, so, yeah, there was a gnat bothering me and I finally got it! Sorry!”
Talia let out a sigh, placing a hand on her hip, “Can you please sit quietly? You're disrupting our rehearsal.”
Mephisto melted into his seat as Auriana exchanged amused glances with Iris. He was certain he was probably about as red as her hair. He nodded, watching as Talia rewound the audio to a few minutes before they had stopped. He looked down at his hand where he'd caught the make believe kiss Talia had blown. He could see her pose in his head – her soft tresses flowing freely around her sculpted shoulders, sultry honey comb eyes ensnaring his own forest greens so that he could see no other, her cute nose that so often scrunched when he got on her nerves, and those cursed lips he wanted to claim with his own.
He wondered what they tasted like.
He mentally slapped himself. His sister was right when she always referred to him as a fool. He was being so stupid right now.
But he couldn't help it.
His perspective had changed. He changed. At first, he simply thought he was eager to repay a debt. As aggravating and nagging as she could be, he listened to her. He finished his training exercises, never missed physical therapy with Ellira, and he helped around the house. He was grateful for a second chance. He was grateful when they agreed to try and save Praxina instead of killing her. That’s all.
And then the praise came. The banter. Perhaps it was the endless assault of insults he’d received from Gramorr and his sister, but hearing Talia say he did well made something in his chest feel tingly.
“Excellent job, Mephisto!” She applauded his cleverness during battle.
“Nicely done, Mephisto. You’re excelling!” She would smile at him when he learned a new spell that wasn’t dark crystal.
Sometimes, if he was lucky, she’d nudge him playfully with her elbow or place her hand on his shoulder when she was amused or if he performed a spell beyond his usual abilities.
Sometimes, if the heavens blessed him, she’d catch him if he fell or stumbled from exhaustion. When his scars burned and his back ached, a parting gift from Gramorr, he’d crumble to the ground in agony, and she quickly ran to his side and held him. It wasn’t romantic in any sense, but it was protective and warm, something he could only remember feeling from his youth. It wasn’t like the hesitant fear that crossed Iris’ eyes, full of guilt, or the anxious worry of Auriana who quickly called for help and tried to use a healing spell. Talia knew magic could only do so much for the pain he carried, because she carried her own. Like Mephisto, all she had left was her sister and an uncle, and for most of her life, they were presumed dead. Even when she knew Izira had survived, she constantly was thinking about how to save her, much like Mephisto was now for Praxina.
Maybe it was the way she felt the same pain of a broken family and a broken realm that softened his heart towards her. Maybe it was the way her voice softened into a near whisper, speaking to him like it was only him and her in the world that made his heart ache for the comfort of home. Maybe, it was when, on one of his worst days, he punched the marble of the floor until his knuckles bled and his overgrown, burgundy bangs clung to his tear stained cheeks. He cursed Gramorr’s name with every impact, his arm aching and his fangs bared, knowing his and Praxina’s pain was the result of the madman’s guidance. He had lost control of himself for the first time in a long time, and he let it all out…
– FLASHBACK –
Auriana had gone mute, eyes fearful and full of tears, her hands clasped in front of her lips, her eyes flickering between Iris, Talia, and him, silently urging someone to stop him. She was so used to his excitable energy, but this darker part of him was new and it broke her heart, reminding her of the pain of war she liked to pretend wasn’t there. Iris was begging him to stop, and when she tried to stop his arm, he jerked it away and let her fall. She looked at the ground, closing her eyes as her face tensed, frustration and anger rising, not at him, but at Gramorr and even a bit at herself. She still felt partially responsible, she knew Praxina blamed her, and now she really felt like she'd played a part in his pain. Auriana wanted to call Ellira, who had gone into town. Praxina had always said he was a crybaby as a kid. He wished he could go back to that time so bad, because at least he had his mother. At least he had his father. At least, he had a home.
He cried, fist deep into the small crater around his hand, shaking because he couldn’t squeeze out a single damn crystal. Talia’s gloved hands, perfectly encased in pure white, began to turn red as his blood seeped through the fabric. She didn’t tell him to stop, nor did she try to cheer him up or reassure him like Iris and Auriana, who had grown silent behind him. Talia began to heal his bloodied fingers, sitting at his side with a pensive expression. It pissed Mephisto off. Didn’t she care at all? Was she so unfeeling? As the skin around his knuckles closed, she ran her thumb along them, looking over her work. His hands were already scarred, but she still looked to make sure the skin healed best she could.
“It hurts.” She murmured, still holding his hand.
He glared at her with annoyance. Of course it hurts, dammit. Everything hurts.
Her eyes locked on his own, and for the first time in a long time, she was an open book. He could see it – the inner turmoil, the shame, the rage, the pain, the deep sadness – it all plagued her soul. But he could also see the defiant fire in her eyes. In spite of everything, she was fighting back every day. Challenge after challenge, she remained focused on her goals and propelled herself forward, never giving up. He was jealous of her strength, but even more so, he was humbled by her understanding. He was in pain, he’d just never let himself feel it. He had tucked it all away. As long as he had Praxina, he’d be alright. He could hide from it with a laugh and a smile. But now Prax was gone, and there was no one to protect him from the truth. He was alone. He was scared. And he didn’t know how to fix it. She wasn’t telling him he was hurting, she was telling him she was too.
“You can cry, you can scream. I don’t care. But you can’t do this.” Talia’s tone was stern, but he could hear a weariness in her voice.
He averted his eyes in shame, nodding silently. Talia’s brows furrowed as she watched him before she stood with a sigh and ended their session. As they left, Auriana gave him a tight hug and Iris offered him an apologetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his bloodless hand. Talia watched him as he sat rooted to the spot.
“Take your time.” She nodded, before taking her leave.
Mephisto couldn’t remember how long he had laid there, letting the tears streak down his face as he laid across the cool crystal floor. He had cried for Praxina, he had cried for his parents. He’d cried for his realm and for his planet and the path he’d chosen. He’d even cried for Gramorr, who had allowed darkness to consume his soul. And he cried for himself.
He was tired, but after he had his cry he felt so much lighter. It still hurt, but it was easier to stomach. He had pushed himself off the floor and took his stance again.
“Breathe. Focus. Enchant.” It was the mantra Talia had drilled into all of their heads when they were frustrated. Simple, straightforward, effective; very Xerin. He looked over at the doorway, seeing a fully transformed Talia standing expectantly with her arms crossed as she waited for him to follow her instructions.
“I thought you’d given up on me.” Mephisto grumbled, glaring at the targets she had placed hours ago.
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong.” She smirked, walking up to him and placing her hands on his lower back. He flinched as he felt the warmth of her hands on his back, straightening his posture. He rolled his eyes at the correction, but he relaxed as the scent of vanilla and spices tickled his nose.
“Breathe,” He began to relax, then narrowed his eyes at the center of the target, “focus…” he adjusted his footing, creating a firmer stance.
“Go with what feels right. We’ll figure the rest out in time. Be patient with yourself, take your pain and turn it into something to overcome. You will reach it.” Talia watched the target, giving him some wiggle room to decide what style of magic he felt he could use.
He closes his eyes, letting his breathing slow, before locking his eyes on his target. If he was going to save his sister, he couldn’t give up on himself, “Crystal Offensio!”
The power of the blast launched them backwards, both of them landing on their butts as vibrant chartreuse shards flew from his magical seal. The crystals rained down on all three targets, piercing them all across the board. Mephisto groaned as he sat up, feeling a dull ache in his back. He looked up, noting the damage his magic had caused. Crystal had hit the floor, the gates, the pillars, and demolished the targets.
“Uh…oops..” Mephisto scratched at the back of his head.
“You…”
“Made a mess, I know.” Mephisto sighed, laying back onto the floor, exhausted.
“Mephisto!”
“What?”
“YOU DID IT!” Talia grabbed the front of his shirt excitedly, yanking him upright to make him sit up, “Forget your aim! You didn’t use black crystal AND your spell was successful! Not to mention the scale of it!”
Mephisto’s eyes widened, his jaw going slack, “I did? I DID!” He jumped to his feet, pumping his fist, “YES! FINALLY!”
“Excellent work, Mephisto! This is quite the improvement.” Talia said thoughtfully, crossing her arms and rubbing at her chin, “At this rate, you’ll likely be able to use magic without depending on Roku’s magical armor.”
“Really?!” Mephisto beamed, excited at being able to stand on his own. It would put him a step closer to being able to save his sister.
Talia’s expression softened, and Mephisto felt a jolt as it was a rare expression he’d never seen on her before. It was hopeful and dare he say, a bit proud. It was as if his success was hers as well. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as a warm smile graced her face as she nodded in reassurance, “Really.”
– END of FLASHBACK –
Mephisto pondered if it had started then. He had been chasing that smile for months now, trying to get her to look at him that way again. He originally wrote it off as a small crush. He had been emotionally vulnerable. But his crush became an infatuation. Now he was doing dishes and vacuuming floors, folding laundry and picking up groceries – all because he wanted her to acknowledge him. He loved cooking, trying new things, but he often found himself trying to find recipes that had her favorite ingredients. He was looking for a good Earth fish that could match the decadent flavor of a hurley beast steak. He made sure there were always gooseberries in their fridge even though he had to go into the city to find them, and had even asked Ellira if they could find a shrub for the greenhouse. Ellira had raised an eyebrow as he found them to be far too tart for his liking, but agreed to be on the lookout since Talia enjoyed them so much. He grimaced as he remembered the way Ellira had smirked at him, leaving with a wink. A silent acknowledgement of his growing attachment to the Xerin princess.
He watched as they revisited their routine, silently claiming another wink and another blown kiss. His head bobbed to the music as he watched her, noting her precision and grace with every step and twirl, enjoying the smooth melody of her voice. She was the perfect combination of power and poise, something only a Xerin royal could pull off. Like her elder sister, she held a quiet mystery, not seeking attention but earning it nonetheless. He had decided as of late that the Earthlings were foolish to not seek her first for her beauty alone. Most of their fans adored her, but always kept their distance or gravitated towards her warmer and friendlier companions. He can’t complain, seeing as it keeps other men away from her, but there was a part of him that wanted to scream to all who could hear how enchanting she could be. He could admit he was ignorant to this at one point, but now he was senselessly enamored with her. Her duality of nature amused him, as she could be exceptionally mature compared to the rest of them, but also gullible and childish in moments of weakness. She was one of the few people who saw his worth as a sorcerer, often giving him more complex spells than Ellira or Iris trusted him with, and strayed from defense spells like Auriana. Like himself, she excelled in illusions, and often preferred a more subtle and careful approach; something he wished Praxina would come to appreciate.
He tilted his head as the girls struck their final pose, holding back a smile as Auriana dropped to the floor while Iris caught her breath beside her. Talia seemed satisfied, mentioning some notes about breath control. His eyebrow raised as he watched her, standing her ground with shaking hands and shallow, slow breaths. She was just as tired as the others, but true to Talia, she tried her best not to show it to keep the others encouraged. He imagined it was pride that kept her upright and stifled a chuckle. She could be really adorable sometimes. She smiled as Ellira spoke to them, and he noted the way her hair reflected the warm stage lights. Little sprigs of her hair had stuck to her skin, following the curve of her flushed cheeks. She nodded a couple times before turning to look his way, her eyes locking on to his. He felt his chest tighten. Her lips parted, and he couldn’t help but notice the sparking gold in her amber eyes. The stage lights hit the sheen of sweat on her skin and if he hadn’t been a magical being himself, he’d think she was glowing, emanating true beauty and gracing him with her presence. Her adorable nose scrunched up, her lips arching at the corner into a scowl as her eyes narrowed.
“Well?” She asked him impatiently, placing a hand on her hip.
“What?” He stared at her, a small smile on his face.
“What do you think?” She sounded slightly exasperated, but her tone was light.
“You’re perfect…” He mumbled, his eyes softening as she flinched, her eyes widening as she stared back at him completely taken aback. Auriana and Iris looked at each other before snickering, Iris barely being able to hold back from spitting out her water all over her red headed friend. Then it dawned on him; his error.
“IT’S PERFECT! The song, er, the dance thing that you were doing, no notes!” Mephisto scrambled to his feet, gesturing wildly to make his point.
“That’s highly unlikely, we still need to-” Talia began, but was cut off by Auriana.
“Come oooon! We’ve been practicing all afternoon! And we still haven’t gotten our new outfits back from Carlos! We have to practice in those too!” The Voltan princess whined from her spot on the stage, tossing her head back with exasperation.
“Auriana’s right, Talia! We need to rest so we can adjust when the costumes come. Then we’ll focus on being stage ready.” Iris added, wiping her neck with a magenta towel, “Besides, even if we practice more, it won’t be perfect.”
“Like Talia?” Auriana quipped, grinning at her freckled bandmate as she rolled over onto her stomach. Mephisto felt sick.
“Yeah,” Iris smirked teasingly at Mephisto, “Like Talia.”
Talia pursed her lips, turning away from them and walking off stage, “That’s enough practice for today.”
As Ellira joined the girls in their giggles, Talia made her way towards the stairs. His eyes followed her as she passed him, watching as she tucked her side bangs behind her ear. He had wished his eyesight had been worse, because now he was going to be thinking about the deep rosy hue that appeared over her nose and cheeks as she blushed. He would remember the slight arch of curiosity in her brow, and the subtle fondness in her eyes as she looked his way. He would permanently see the way she pressed lips together tightly, as if trying to suppress a smile, and nearly failing to do so in his memories. He would wish for all time that the sweet smell of chai, vanilla cashmere, and coconut would whirl around him wherever he went; it was so undeniably Talia. It meant she was close. It was only a second, but it was engrained into his brain forever.
He closed his eyes, allowing the aroma to entrap his senses before it dissipated with her absence. By the queen, she was wonderful…
He froze.
He turned with mortification as he remembered there were three people and two familiars in the room with him. All five of which were currently staring at him, causing his stomach to churn. Ellira was biting her lip, as if she was struggling not to erupt into a fit of laughter, her shoulders shaking as she turned her head away from him. Amaru stared at him as if unable to process what the hell he was doing but knowing it was unusual, even for Mephisto. Iris looked as if she had been scandalized, her sky blue eyes squinting at him and her lips upturned with disapproval. She was cringing; like she’d witnessed something mutually foul and pathetic. Auriana held nothing back, her eyes wide in unabashed mortification and her mouth agape, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. He looked down at his own familiar and found Roku staring at him with a half-lidded, deadpanned stare as if he was scolding him.
Mephisto wanted to disappear.
He swiftly turned on his heels, marching right up the stairs, and into his room, slamming the door behind him. He was humiliated, utterly rotten…And yet, only because he regretted getting caught. A muffled scream of horror echoed through the corridor, and Mephisto fell to his knees, face pressed into his mattress as he prayed to the Melzors that no one in the house would let this slip up reach Talia’s ears.