Chapter Text
Time flew by until today, which was Octavia’s 18th birthday. It was the day she officially came of age. The little owlet of the past had now taken another step into adulthood, legally ready to inherit her father’s title, yet Octavia had never cared for his rank or status at all.
Octavia walked down the palace corridors that were currently shrouded in ice and freezing cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes scanning the walls. They used to be covered with pictures of her father, but now only peeling marks remained, completely replaced by the arrogant portraits of her uncle, Andrealphus.
She sighed, a puff of white mist escaping her beak, and quickened her pace to reach her room as fast as possible. But as she walked, her mother’s sharp, nasal voice echoed from the palace living room.
"An engagement now? Is that even necessary?" Stella spoke, her voice laced with irritation. "If it wasn't for Stolas, she would have been betrothed ages ago. I don’t know why the hell he kept opposing it so much." Stella let out a frustrated sigh.
"Yes, Stolas opposed it all along, but isn't this a perfect opportunity, dear sister?" Andrealphus’s arrogant voice chimed in, followed by a slight chuckle.
"Perfect? How so?" Stella asked bluntly, not catching on.
"Oh, my dear sister, you really are all beauty and no brains," Andrealphus sneered, shaking his head. "Don't you see? We can just pick some idiot groom for the little lady."
"And?" Stella was still clueless.
"Dammit! It means we can turn that guy into our puppet! And then the throne will fall right into our claws, hahaha!!" Andrealphus laughed maniacally.
"Whatever, I don't give a damn about that. Just one thing, don't bring in anyone like Stolas, that's all," Stella snapped angrily
.
"Trust your brother on this, my dear…" They both burst into loud, mocking laughter, not caring how the cruel sound echoed through the halls.
Octavia froze. Her entire body felt numb. It wasn’t from the icy cold of the palace, but from the chilling frost that those cruel laughs had driven into her heart. Trembling all over, she took off running.
Once inside her room, Octavia slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the floor. Her body still trembled uncontrollably. Those laughs kept ringing in her ears like ghosts refusing to leave her alone. The young owl's thoughts spiraled into utter chaos from what she had just accidentally overheard.
An arranged marriage? A betrothal? What the hell did that mean? And what did they mean by 'Father opposed it all along'? Why had he never mentioned any of this to her? Octavia’s thoughts spun in endless, agonizing circles. Why? She just wanted to be happy, to have a normal life with parents who loved each other. Why did she have to keep getting hurt over and over again?
Octavia hugged her knees tightly, even though she had promised herself she would stride forward and be fine. She lifted her head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. And once again, her mind instantly drifted to her father. It was as if she was still looking for him. Even though her heart was consumed with anger, vowing never to forgive him, why did he keep showing up in her thoughts like this?
Her black beak bit down hard on her lip, but she felt no pain at all. Clenching her fists, she stood up and threw her bedroom door open. Her heavy, determined footsteps guided her down a path that was all too familiar. Every time she was scared, every time she was sad, every time she was happy, she always ended up heading towards his room.
The moment she pushed the door open, a cloud of dust rained down, making her cough. She scanned the room, which had fallen into utter ruin without its owner. The bedsheets were torn to shreds, books were dragged off every single shelf, ripped apart and destroyed. If her father saw his room like this, it would break his heart.
Octavia averted her eyes. She had a pretty good idea of who had trashed her father’s room, but it didn't matter anymore. She headed straight for the small storage closet that was still packed with things her father had kept, which he used to call his most precious treasures.
Her red eyes scanned the room. Most of it consisted of things from her childhood, like drawings she made and little notes she wrote to him. Octavia looked away from those once-happy memories. But as she looked further, her body went entirely numb when she saw a massive pile of medicine bottles labeled ‘Happy Pills’ that were practically overflowing from the box.
The owl sighed, wondering what the hell she was even doing here. But just as she turned around to leave the room, something caught her eye. It was a notebook tucked away in a narrow gap between the shelves. Octavia walked over, pulled it out, and blew the dust off the cover, sending a cloud swirling through the air.
"Cough, cough!" She choked on the dust, waving her hands wildly to clear the air. As the dust settled, she looked down at the book in her hands.
It was a notebook with a purple star on the cover, though the color had faded to an almost-grey from age. Octavia was certain she had never seen it before. Curiosity taking over, she gently opened it. The very first page was filled with childish handwriting and crayon drawings, mostly of stars.
Even though it was a child's handwriting, her father's penmanship already looked quite elegant even back then. She flipped to the next page. This page was filled with stories from Stolas’s 10th birthday, and his writing clearly showed how thrilled he was to finally receive his duties as a Prince of the Ars Goetia.
Dear Diary
Today, I am profoundly overjoyed to receive my duties as a Prince of the Ars Goetia. I sincerely hope that I will execute these responsibilities flawlessly, so as to make my Lord Father proud.
Octavia read the little boy's writing, a faint smile tugging at her beak. She flipped to the next page. This time, Stolas’s handwriting looked more like a frantic vent than an elegant entry, laced with profound sorrow and fear.
Dear Diary
After meeting my Lord Father for the first time, he bestowed upon me the Grimoire. I shall be studying the stars and various flora. It is highly exhilarating. However, I have learned of another matter. Father informed me that it is time for me to have a betrothed, and he showed me her photograph. She is a most terrifying girl. The doll she held was ripped to absolute shreds; it was quite pitiful. I am so frightened. I do not wish to be betrothed. I do not wish to marry. Yet, it is the duty of a Prince. Therefore, I shall try my best…
Betrothed? On his 10th birthday? That is fucking insane!! He was just a kid. She had no idea her parents had been betrothed since they were ten. Octavia pressed her lips into a tight line, but her eyes kept reading. Near the end of the page, her father’s handwriting grew neater and seemed much happier.
But it was not entirely a dreadful day. Today, Father took me to see an imp circus. Initially, I was still sorrowful and harbored no desire to attend. However, just then, there was an imp. I believe he is of a similar age to myself. The exact second he performed acrobatics, swinging on a rope right past my face, he was so radiant, so remarkably bright. I have never felt anything like it before. Furthermore, he is an exceptionally amusing fellow. He crafted a horse out of balloons, yet the horse possessed no legs. He claimed it was because the horse consumed too much sugar. How utterly hilarious! I do not comprehend why the others did not laugh, for it is a factual matter that excessive sugar intake can lead to diabetes, which may ultimately result in limb amputation. He is quite a genius. I truly did not wish to return home so soon.
Octavia let out a breath. At least her father’s birthday hadn’t been entirely miserable. She flipped to the next page.
Unbelievable! Father brought him to the palace to be my playmate! It is truly the grandest birthday gift imaginable!! And at last, I know his name. His name is Blitzo. My very first friend! No one has ever come to play at the palace before!! Consequently, I shared my favorite book with him, though it appeared he did not quite favor it.
Blitzo? That name sounded remarkably like that stupid, idiotic boyfriend who had stolen her father away. If it was him, did that mean they had known each other since they were kids? Octavia frowned and read on.
Blitzo is genuinely such a funny and entertaining person. He even invited me to play pirates! We assisted each other in gathering items until a sack was entirely full. Albeit, I did not fully comprehend why we had to hurl the sack out of the window. It lacked logic, as a pirate ship does not possess windows… but perhaps it is an imp game!! It was immensely delightful regardless. I have never run and laughed so heartily in my entire life.
Dad… that wasn’t a game. That bastard was just a thief from the start!! She sighed in pure exhaustion. Yet, driven by curiosity, she kept reading.
Regrettably, the day has concluded, and Blitzo had to depart. Thus, we sat down to rest beneath a tree in the garden. Blitzo is remarkably agile; he ascended to the top within mere minutes. He shared his aspiration to become the owner of the grandest circus, to be his own master, to possess his own business with a massive office and numerous subordinates. I burst into laughter—not to disparage his dream, but he is truly a man of vision, which varies greatly from myself. Given that I was born into preset duties, I possess no necessity for such dreams. When I conveyed this to him, Blitzo said something entirely comical—he offered to employ me! I laughed quite heartily at that. He shall undoubtedly achieve his dream and become an exemplary boss. Of that, I am certain… I offer him my utmost support. If we were to cross paths again, it would be wonderful…
Octavia traced her finger along the edge of the paper before flipping through the next pages rapidly. After that entry, she could feel through her father’s handwriting that his life was no longer bright or exciting like when he wrote about Blitz, his very first friend. It became a colorless daily log of waking up, getting dressed, reading, and fulfilling his preset duties.
She was about to close the book, but her eyes caught sight of a photograph pasted on the upcoming pages, causing her to flip back. The young owl's eyes widened when she saw the photo of her father as a teenager. He looked completely different from how he was now. A faint smirk crossed Octavia’s beak when she saw Stolas’s long hair covering one side of his face. Did he actually pierce his beak? Seriously? And what was with those pitch-black emo clothes?
"I can't believe Dad used to look like this…" Octavia muttered, her fingers gently brushing over the photograph. But she froze, remembering what he had done. Shaking it off, she quickly flipped to the next page.
Her red eyes scanned the notebook and landed on a photo of a parrot demon with feathers as red as roaring flames standing next to her father. Her father hadn't written much about him, only a brief note stating that Vassago came to visit the palace today and that he hadn't had this much fun in quite some time.
She knitted her brows, staring at the parrot demon. Why did he look so incredibly familiar? It felt like she had seen him before… somewhere. But who the hell was he? Another friend? He looked like a Goetia too, right? If they were friends, why did her father never stay in touch with him?
Even with that stupid, idiotic boyfriend of his, he managed to get back in touch. She sighed, flipping to the next page, but it was completely blank. She flipped through several more pages, but they were all empty. For some reason, her father had just abruptly stopped writing. Frustrated, she flipped through the notebook rapidly.
But just as she was about to throw it away, near the very end of the book, a handwriting far more beautiful and elegant than anything before it caught her attention.
Dear Diary
It has been a considerable amount of time since my last entry, yet today is a day so profoundly extraordinary that I simply cannot resist writing. Do you wish to know why? Today, at long last, this egg that I have cherished so deeply, that I have nurtured for months on end, has finally hatched. I have named her Octavia. My precious little star. She is utterly darling. Her hands are so incredibly tiny. The exact second she opened her eyes to look upon me, it truly felt as though a million stars resided within those eyes. They were so radiantly brilliant. Her birth into this world is genuinely the finest occurrence in my entire life. I hope she grows into a bright, healthy, and resilient young lady… I desire nothing more than for my daughter to be happy. I love you, my dearest Starfire.
The hands holding the notebook began to tremble violently. Octavia bit her lip hard. She stared at the words for a long time until her vision blurred and tears began to pool, dripping onto the pages of the notebook.
"Goddammit!!" she sobbed out loud, slamming the notebook shut with force. She raised her hand, ready to hurl it across the room with all her might, but for some reason, her hand wouldn't stop shaking.
"It's a lie… it's all a fucking lie… If you really loved me… why the hell did you abandon me?!" she screamed into the dead silence, knowing damn well no answer would ever come back to her. The young owl hugged the notebook tightly against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
Octavia’s mind was a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions. She was still so angry with her father, angry that he left her. Angry that he had protected her for so long, yet never told her a single goddamn thing. Angry that she knew absolutely nothing about his life! She had no clue her father had been taking those stupid pills for so long, and it felt like the father she thought she knew had never actually existed.
Octavia lay down on the floor, clutching the notebook tightly against her chest. Dad… when you were my age, you already had me, right? What were you like back then? How did you feel about having to get married? Why did you never tell me… why…
What kind of person are you, really? I want to know so much more about you…
Octavia held the book tight, burying her face into the old cover and breathing in the scent of dust and aged paper. She had no idea how long she lay on that cold floor, but the sheer physical and emotional exhaustion caused her eyelids to grow heavier and heavier.
But the exact second she was about to drift off, she felt a strange warmth radiating against her fingertips.
"Huh? What the…?" She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands, but what she saw made her eyes widen in shock.
A soft, faint purple light was slowly bleeding out from the edges of the notebook pressed against her chest, as if millions of tiny stars were blinking inside it. Startled, she let go of the notebook. It fell open on the floor, and a sudden, blinding flash of light erupted, enveloping her entirely.
"Whoa!!" Octavia shrieked in terror. The light was so piercingly bright that it completely blinded her for a moment.
But just as quickly as it came, the brilliant light faded away. The young owl blinked rapidly until her vision adjusted back to normal. And when her red eyes finally focused, she froze in absolute bewilderment because the room around her was entirely different.
"What the actual hell is going on?!"
The storage closet, which had just been caked in dust and packed with old, unused junk, was now filled with items she had never seen before. Black clothing, boxes of old emo music CDs, and books featuring incredibly muscular men.
"Ew! What the fuck?!" Octavia grabbed the notebook and bolted out of the storage closet, only to skitter to a halt when she found her father’s bedroom wasn't torn apart or destroyed like it had been moments ago. But the decor wasn't anything like what she was used to either.
Not wanting to waste any time, she rushed out of his quarters. To her utter shock, the thick ice that had gripped the entire palace had completely vanished. Moreover, the walls weren't bare, but lined with portraits of her father looking exactly like the teenager she had just seen in the notebook.
"I don't get it. What the hell is happening…?" She looked down at the notebook in her hands, which was now a vibrant, flawless purple, a stark contrast to the dust-covered, fading grey book she had found.
As she stared at the notebook in sheer confusion, a soft, familiar voice echoed from right behind her.
"Who are you?! And why are you in my palace?!"
Octavia whipped around instantly. The moment her gaze locked with those deeply familiar red eyes, her own widened and her beak fell open.
"Dad!!"