Work Text:
Well, No one told me about her
She pulled the box down from the shelf. Printed off pictures of her and her dad filled it. She stared at the first one. She had to have been five or six. The mascot of Loo Loo Land was barely visible behind them. “What is his name again?” She turned it around and looked at the date and flipped it back around. She couldn’t remember the trip. She was holding a plushie that she recognized from the shelf in her room. It took her a moment to realize her father was crouching down so that they were both in the frame together.
Her brow furrowed.
A fragment of memory swirled around her looking at the photo.
”You have been so good lately. Why don’t we go to Loo Loo Land? her father said.
”Why not LuLu World?” she asked.
”It is full of sinners, my owlette. Better to be around other Hellborn.”
”Oh, I see.”
She pulled out another picture. This one was her standing on a stage with an award in her hand. She looked to be about twelve. She closed her eyes trying to remember it instead a fraction of a memory came up.
”I do hope that you can help her. She has such potential. She could be so great. She’s been so withdrawn at school though. She has no friends…I know that she doesn’t have more than a handful of peers, but she still goes to school with infestors and succubi. She just doesn’t seem to be able to make friends…Alright, I’ll bring her down for an assessment…”
She tried to remember everything but could only remember her father’s voice.
She put the photos back and shoved the whole thing aside. Knees up to her chest, she started to cry again.
”So, tell me what your day at school was like?”
She looked up at the baphomet who was sitting in the chair. She tried to remember the woman’s name but couldn’t. “I don’t remember. It was boring. A blur. I took notes. I think.”
The woman scratched down some notes. “I see. How was yesterday?”
”I think mom yelled at one of the servants.” That didn’t sound right. Was it one of the servants? It had to be. She couldn’t possibly have yelled at her or her dad. “I’m not sure why. I put my headphones on and listened to music after that.”
The baphomet nodded. “Interesting.” There were more notes. Tell me do you daydream?”
”A lot. Always. I love to think about other places. The stars. Seeing Azatoth’s Tears. All of it. I sometimes imagine being in the middle of this shallow lake with these foreign stars above me. I sometimes read a book and imagine what the story could have been.”
There were more notes. “I see. Thank you.”
”For what?”
”Answering truthfully.”
She looked at the woman and wondered what she was talking about.
It felt like she was trying to fix something that was broke, but needed to know where the fracture was.
The Way He Lied
She returned to the closet and looked at all the various bits of junk and boxes scattered around. She sat down in the middle and looked at it all. She didn’t want to go through all of it, but she had to. This was going to be her room after all, at least once she was crowned Princess. If her mother and uncle were being truthful, it would be before even that.
She pulled over the box of discarded pill bottles and dumped them into the trashbag. The box got put to the side. She could use it to move some of her stuff into the room.
”I’m sorry we can’t go to the park today, my little starfire. I have an important meeting with Vassago today.”
”But dad…you promised!”
”I’m sorry, but it is an emergency.”
She watched him throw on his cape and portal away.
How many times did that happen? She wasn’t sure. How many times was he too busy for her for weeks at a time? Months even. How often did it happen? She tried to remember but found darkness and an empty spot.
She reached out and snagged another box. This one was filled with various bits of paper. Most looked like reminders. She started stuffing them into the bag. One piece of paper caught her interest and she looked at it. Prince Stolas, your daughter is clearly suffering from some kind of dissociation. I would recommend that you bring her in for regular therapy sessions.
She looked at the paper some more. She vaguely remembered some staid looking man talking to her. She couldn't remember what his face looked like or what he was saying.
Another piece of paper caught her eye. It was a prescription for happy pills. She stuffed that into the bag as well. She found a small book amongst the papers. She opened it. Her father’s flowing handwriting filled the pages. I wish that Father hadn’t made me marry that harpy. All she ever does is treat me like I am worthless. No wife, no child. It would be so much nicer to just live alone. Maybe with some younger member of the goetia, a nice young man? What am I saying…I can’t even think that. Living with a man is just not done for us goetia.
She hesitated, considering throwing the book into the trash but she turned to another page. I try so hard to be a good husband to Stella, but every time she wants sex, I find myself repulsed. The last time she pretty much had to force me to bed her. I felt so dirty afterwards.
She looked at the words on the page. At some level she’d always known her mother was something of a monster, but this made her seem far worse. She felt nauseated looking at the page. She started to throw the book in the trash when something slipped down. It was a ticket stub for some play. She went to that page. I feel like such a monster. I was supposed to take Via to see the circus yesterday but the night before I met this incredible succubus and he was so charming. I don’t know how many times we made love that night. Of course, it was fleeting. I barely remember his name. I was too tired when I got home to spend the day with Via. I told her I was sick…
She snapped the book shut. Anger coursed through her and she pulled on fire. With care, she levitated the book and set it ablaze. Cold ashes drifted down onto the floor. “Was I nothing but an inconvenience to you, dad? Just someone to get in the way of your sex life?” She shoved the rest of the papers into the bag. “Was I nothing to you?”
A memory burst into her mind.
”Why do you let her dress like some commoner?” her grandfather Paimon asked.
”She has a fit whenever I try to dress her in more formal clothes. Besides, she should be allowed to be comfortable. It’s a phase. Don’t worry about it. I went through a similar phase,” her father replied.
”And I remember having some stern words with you about that as well.”
”I still turned out alright.”
”For the most part,” Paimon retorted.
She stood up and left the closet so that she could study her grimoire.
Well, No One Told Me About Her
”You’re a princess and you will dress accordingly!” The words from her mother were still echoing through her brain as she retreated to her soon-to-be bedroom and the closet therein. She snagged a fresh bag from the roll and sat down in the middle of the junk.
She sat there and looked at all of the stuff her father had shoved inside the room-sized closet. She sat down and looked at the various piles of junk. She reached out and pulled a small box towards her. She asked the air “Did dad never throw anything out?”
She pulled out a doll with a broken arm. Looking at it, she flinched as if someone was throwing it at her. For a moment, she thought she heard her mother yelling at her, but the words were garbled and all she could remember was the terror. She placed the doll into the new bag given that she didn’t even remember owning the doll. There was a stab of sadness as she threw it away, but she didn’t know why.
It felt like it was someone else’s sadness.
She pulled out another toy. The plastic doll of a goetia had been defaced. The feathers had been torn out and the eyes gouged into nothingness. It had once been pristine and white. The dress had been cut up and torn. The amount of hatred that had to have gone into the destruction of the doll was hard to fathom, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling that level of hatred.
“Why didn’t dad just throw this stuff away? It’s old junk.” She stuffed the doll into the bag. The next toy she pulled out of the box was just another doll. It looked identical to the one she had just thrown out except that there was a very deliberately written ‘I HATE YOU’ in sharpie on the skirt of the dress. The doll’s feathers had been pulled out as well and the eyes destroyed.
She put the doll into the bag. Most of the toys in the box were broken. She pulled out another that looked like it had been thrown against a wall. It was barely holding on in the middle and the arm was cracked. She felt sadness as she put each toy into the bag, but that sadness felt distant. She couldn’t remember the toys.
She pulled an exquisitely crafted porcelain doll in the shape of a goetia. The face looked a lot like her, but it was broken. Someone had tried to glue the broken pieces back on, but they weren’t all there. Part of the beak was gone along with one of the eyes. She brushed a thumb along the crack and the piece that covered half the face fell off. She stared at it for a moment trying to remember ever owning the doll.
With an air of sadness, she stuffed the doll into the bag. She looked at the piece on the floor. With careful fingers, she picked it up and looked at it. It felt like part of her life was in her hand, but she couldn’t remember it ever existing.
”I’d ask dad, but he isn’t here.”
”She always draws the three of you so sad. Are there problems at home, Prince Stolas?”
Her father looked at the teacher and said “No. Nothing’s wrong at home. She just gets sad a lot. I should probably take her to see a psychologist, but I have not been able to get an appointment yet.”
”I see.” The teacher, Mrs. Brimm, nodded. She was an infestor. She could remember not liking her very much. She always smelled slightly of salt.
”I’m sure that nothing’s wrong. She’s a good girl and does all her homework before I let her study the stars like she loves.”
”That is good to hear, Prince Stolas. Well, if nothing is wrong at home, then I’ll let you go. Thank you for stopping in.”
”Of course. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that her home life was fine. She just has a vivid imagination.”
“How many lies did dad tell?” She pulled another broken toy out of the box and stuffed it into the bag.
How Many People Cried
She ran into the closet and closed the door. Panting, she slid to the floor, back against it. Her uncle had tried to force her to wear a ‘gown in keeping with her station’. She hated it. He had yelled at her after she had torn it apart.
She tried to dry her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Why won’t they just leave me alone?”
She remembered the days, months before the court case where her dad often left her alone. He was busy. He was always busy. He’d go from super busy to constantly showering her with affection. Trips to LooLoo Land or the park or the circus even if she hated them. Even if they made her cry. At least he paid attention to her sometimes.
”Mom never used to be like this. Now it feels like she wants to put me on display. ‘Look at my fabulous daughter, isn’t she pretty’. I’m not a sack of rats! I’m not just your doll to put on a shelf!”
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there trying to stop the crying. It felt like the sadness was echoing around her head. Finally the tears stopped and she carefully looked around.
She reached out and snagged another box. Pulling it over, she tried to look at it, but she hadn’t turned on the light in the closet. “Ish kellia”, she said, intoning the words quietly to summon a little ball of purple light. It hovered above her as she pulled something from the box. She looked at it. It was a little ceramic bird. Three glossy painted on eyes looked at her. She remembered it once sitting on her father’s desk. With a frown, she tossed it into the half-filled bag from the last time.
She heard it break.
The next item was a picture frame. The photograph in it was of her sitting in her father’s lap. It had to be her, after all. Her parents didn’t have any other children. But it didn’t feel like her face. It didn’t feel like it was her in the picture.
She dropped the picture into the bag as well. She snagged another item. It was a child’s drawing. ‘Mom’, ‘Dad’ and ‘Via’ were written in crayon. She turned it over in her hands and thought about it for a moment. A child’s drawing. She wasn’t sure why her father had kept a hold of it. She put it into the bag as well.
After a moment, she pulled it out, but put it back in again. It was unnecessary and not really worth holding onto.
But It’s Too Late To Say You’re Sorry
How would I know, why should I care?
She stepped into the closet and felt the loneliness creep in again. What was it that dad was trying to say? That he was sorry? He nearly got himself killed trying to see me…but did it matter? He rushed off to the executioner’s block without a thought for me! He didn’t give a shit.
She turned on the light and looked at the few remaining boxes on the shelves. She pulled one down and looked at it. It was filled with various little items. Old buttons and odd bobs. She wasn’t sure it was worth much so she dropped it into the nearly full bag.
She he heard a light thud after a few moments. She stood on tiptoe and saw a book that had fallen over. She snagged it. There wasn’t anything in there. No writing at all. She lifted it to the light. There was nothing.
“Sh’snath,” she said. Purple magic flowed along the pages. First names and last initials were there. Many were crossed out. Some had phone numbers. There were the names and numbers of hotels. It didn’t take her much to realize that this was his book for hookups. Men he knew were safe to sleep with. She pulled on her magic and let it levitate up and set it on fire. If nothing else, it would keep her father’s privacy.
She sighed heavily and turned off the light before leaving the closet.
Please don’t bother trying to find her
She’s Not There
She placed a box on her bed and looked around the room. It wouldn’t be her bed or her room much longer. It would be empty. She also tied a trashbag to the end of the bed for anything she decided she no longer needed.
She picked up the hellbear plushie that her father had given her ages ago and smiled. “It’s ok Mr. Wriggly, we’re just going to a new room.” She put the bear into the box.
”Here you go, my little starfire,” her father said, handing her the plushie. She looked at it with wide eyes and wondered exactly why she had wanted it. She smiled and hugged it though. “I’m so glad that you like him. What do you want to call him?”
”Mr. Wriggly,” she said, looking up at her towering father.
”What an interesting name.”
She smiled up at him.
”Dad, why did you have to leave me behind?” She stiffened her shoulders.
”What would you like to buy?” her father asked. She was standing in a toy store looking at everything around her. It was almost too much. She tottered over to one of the displays and picked out a doll, and then another. They looked like succubi, but at least they had poseable arms and clothes that could be interchanged.
She shook her head at such a random memory. She picked up her backpack and put it next to the box.
”Prince Stolas, it is an honor that you would consider our school for your daughter. It is my understanding that the goetia are normally tutored by others within your class,” the tall, rail thin stork of a goetia said.
She blinked up at him. Wasn’t he of our class as well?
”Well, I figured that it would benefit my daughter to attend school instead of being tutored. She could benefit from having some socialization.”
”It is rather humbling that you could even consider us. Would you like a tour of the grounds? I know that she would not be staying in the dormitories. After all, we could not provide enough security for her.”
”Of course not. If I am unable to come and fetch her, I will send my driver to do so.”
”Excellent. Shall we begin?”
Her memory jumped again as she stood there with her hand on the backpack.
”Dad, why do you have to send me to school?”
”Because it would help you to socialize with others. It is not healthy for you to be in this manor all the time with just me, your mother and the servants.”
”But dad…”
”This is a great expense. There are goetia who are not as high of status as we are and perhaps you will find a friend within there. Perhaps you will even start dating.”
She shifted between her feet. “What if I don’t want to date?”
”Well, that is up to you, but I would love it if you found someone who loved you and could make you happy. Perhaps the right boy would make you feel wanted.”
”What if…what if I wanted to date a girl?”
Stolas stood up straighter and frowned. “I would not entertain such an idea. It is simply not done for us to date the undesirable no matter how much we might want to. Find a goetia boy and date him. Dating a girl, or a member of one of the other species would be seen as being awfully scandalous.”
She looked at her dad for a few moments and finally said “Okay.” She didn’t feel okay. She wasn’t sure she wanted to date anyone. At least it wasn’t going to be an arranged marriage.
She sighed and sat down. Looking around the room all she could think of was standing in the courtyard trying to get her father’s attention so that they could go see Azatoth’s Tears. She sniffed back the tears.
”But dad, you promised!”
”I’m sorry Via, something came up at the last minute that I have to take care of. I will take you to see the meteor shower next year. I promise.”
”But that’s a long ways away!”
”Now, my little starfire, if it weren’t for the fact that your grandfather has insisted I see him tonight, I would take you to see this. I hate leaving you here, but you will be ok. You’re a big girl of ten. Pringles will make you your favorite dinner and make sure you get into bed.” Her father frowned. “I do wish your mother was here, though. It would help out a lot. I wonder where she has been off to.”
“But dad…”
”I’m sorry, my owlette. I will be home very late. I wish I knew what he wanted.” Her father bent down and gave her a quick kiss before summoning a portal and disappearing.
She looked around again and thought about all the nights spent with her father staring up at the stars. “Did I love the stars because of him or because of me? Was it all because of how proud he was of me and happy when we studied the stars?”
With a sigh, she stood up and pulled down one of the star charts and carefully rolled it up and put it in the box, not sure if she still loved the stars she’d once studied with her father.
Well, Let Me Tell You ‘Bout The Way She Looked
The Way She Acts And The Color Of Her Hair
She looked at the delicate little tiara on her dressing table and the gown on the stand not far away. Neither fit her, not really. She didn’t like the paleness of the dress and she preferred her little hat over the tiara. ”But that isn’t princess-like and as long as you are Princess, you must appear to be one. After all, we can’t have you thought of as one of the lesser goetia. Your father may have indulged your whims, but I am your mother and I insist you wear things appropriate to your rank.” Her mother’s voice hadn’t been raised at all, and yet the message was quite clear. She wasn’t her own being. She was her Mother’s Daughter, and she would wear what she was told.
How easy it would be to just burn the dress then and there and melt the tiara. She signed and bowed her head. It would lead to another dress taking its place. It would lead to another tiara being made.
It would lead to another argument.
She found her new phone and put in her earbuds. At least her mother couldn’t stop her from listening to her own music.
She opened one of the drawers and pulled out various cosmetics. It somehow didn’t surprise her that her father had them. Most goetia, men and women, loved to enhance their look with a little cosmetic. They just hated looking like they did.
She piled them on the top of the dressing table. She hated having makeup on her feathers and it always made her beak feel weird. Besides, her father’s palate just wouldn’t work for her.
”You want to use a light hand while putting the eyeshadow on. Don’t put it on too thick or it’ll clump your feathers and is a nightmare to get off.”
She stood up and got a bag from the closet. With care, she dumped the makeup into it. There wasn’t much point in keeping it. She pulled open another drawer.
Her mother’s screech sent her scrambling for the space behind the couch.
“Stolas! Where in Hell are you!”
The scream echoed down the hallway.
She was so small that it was easy to hide behind the sofa and wait for things to quiet down. She pulled her knees to her chest buried her head there.
”What is the meaning of this?”
Her mother must have found her father. She couldn’t hear his end of the conversation.
”You are going to fix this NOW! Do you understand!”
She blinked several times and pulled the items out of the open drawer one at a time. She felt like it was happening by someone else’s hand. The makeup tools she placed on the desk to clean up and the actual makeup into the bag.
She continued this way for some time.
Her Voice Was Soft And Cool, Her Eyes Were Clear and Bright
But She’s Not There
“There you go, my lady. Don’t you look lovely?”
She looked at herself in the mirror. The imp standing on a stepladder behind her had done her best to put up her hair and make it look presentable. She had wanted to add purple highlights, but her mother had refused to allow her to even consider dying her feathers. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”
The imp, who was newly hired, hopped down. “If there’s nothing else, my lady.”
”There’s nothing else. Thank you.”
With that, the imp left the bedroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt sad. It was a distant sadness. She didn’t want to attend the party her mother had set up. She hated talking to all those people.
”Dad?” She walked around the hallway looking for her father. ”Dad?” She walked past one of his giant meat eating plants. The giant flower of it followed her movements. “Dad?”
She stopped near a partially opened door. Her mother was inside laughing. “Of course he’s terrible in bed. What makes you think that his stiff twig of an ass knows what he’s doing?”
She moved on not wanting to catch her mother’s ire by disturbing her.
She stepped outside into the garden and looked at the various plants, but couldn’t find her father.
She closed her eyes and pictured her old bedroom. It was quiet and small. It felt warm and safe.
She sat at her dressing table. It was hers now. She tried to look at herself in the mirror, but looked away instead. She felt like she had no choice but to retreat to the one place her mother couldn’t find her. She hid further into her own mind knowing that the only way to survive was to hide.
But she couldn’t hide under a table any more or in her room.
The only place she had left was inside her own head. In the room she made for herself.