Chapter Text
Everything was arranged by Andrealphus. No one asked for Stolas’ opinion, despite him being the hero of the day. He was used to being walked over by every central figure in his life: his father, his fiancée Stella, her brother Andrealphus. Stolas had learned early on that nothing good came out of making a scene. For him, acting meek and docile was a defense mechanism. If he just played along and did all the things they demanded from him, then maybe they would leave him alone with his books and his plants.
Going to a club filled with succubi strippers wasn’t on his bucket list, but when Andrealphus announced the plan, Stolas knew there was no way for him to shoot down the idea without being seen as ‘difficult’. So, he forced out a smile and said: “That sounds great.”
At least there would be copious amounts of alcohol, and at age 18, he was now old enough to drink legally by Hell’s standards. Not that it had stopped him in the past. He’d had his first glass of wine at age 15 and a year after that, his first experience of getting shit-faced with Vassago, resulting in his very first hangover. It did not end up being the last.
His father, Paimon, had moved to a separate palace when he was 14, leaving him in the care of 20 core staff members, who, in turn, managed other servants assigned beneath them. Overall, the palace staff consisted of roughly a hundred people, although he was unsure of the exact number. In two weeks, he would officially be in charge of his own staff, after the wedding had concluded.
Sweet Lucifer, the wedding… He wasn’t ready. He was never going to be ready. Six months ago, it had still seemed distant and irrelevant. Now, two weeks from now, he would be forever chained to a woman who resented him. The mere thought of it filled him with dread.
Stolas had spent the better part of two hours getting ready for the impending bachelor party. After a relaxing bath, he had spent 20 minutes sorting through his feathers with preening oil before getting dressed with the assistance of his valet. He had selected an outfit consisting of a midnight blue flowing silk shirt, tight pantaloons and a red sash, as well as his royal crown hat. The shirt had two halves folded over each other and tucked into his waistband, and it was embroidered with tiny silver stars. It left his chest exposed, giving him a chance to display his chest fluff that had thickened considerably over the course of the past 12 months. He applied his own makeup. And waited. And waited…
Quarter to 7, the valet knocked on the door, announcing that the limo was waiting for him. He put his top hat on and went downstairs.
Vassago was standing outside the limo, smoking a cigarette with a holder. He was dressed in his usual reds and golds, wearing angular glasses with yellow lenses.
“Mi amigo! ¿Cómo estás?” he greeted Stolas with a radiant smile, kissing him on both cheeks.
“Never been better,” Stolas lied with an awkward smile.
“You look terrified. Relax, mi hermano, I’ll make sure you have a good time.”
Vassago opened the back door for him.
“Amigos, the prince graces us with his presence.”
“Cut the theatrics, Vas, we all knew he was going to be here,” Andrealphus said from the back seat.
“What’s life without theatrics?” Vassago said. “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”
Stolas took off his hat and squeezed into the back seat. There was a fourth Goetia in the back, a spotted leopard.
“Hello,” Stolas said politely. “I don’t believe we have met before.”
“Stolas, meet Cassius. He’s from the house of Belial. Non-magical,” Andrealphus added.
“How do you do,” said Cassius, offering his hand. Stolas greeted him in response.
Vassago sat down next to Stolas and signaled to the driver that they were ready to go. The limo was followed by a Bentley housing their security detail, a group of four hellhounds.
They had some champagne on the way to the Lust Ring. The other three engaged in small talk but Stolas remained silent for the most part. Both Vassago and Cassius were laughing openly, looking forward to a fun excursion. Andrealphus remained subdued, only chuckling dryly every once in a while.
As they arrived at the club, they walked past the queue and the doorman greeted them with a deep bow, moving the red rope aside. The security guards had split into two pairs, one in front, one holding up the rear, looking stern in their dark suits and shades.
Once inside, they were greeted by a succubus hostess wearing a tight miniskirt and a bandage top. They walked through the main room, which was packed with people, with succubi dancers in oversized birdcages suspended from the ceiling. The music was pumping, partygoers of all species contorting on the dance floor in a mass of swaying bodies and glitter. The hostess led them into the VIP section in the back. They weren’t the only ones there. There were other, older Goetia, as well as overlords, loan sharks and a handful of imps who had managed to go against all odds and become wealthy, likely through less than legal means.
There were two catwalks in the room, each ending in a round section with a pole in the middle. One of the poles was currently in use by a succubus dancer, while another one was parading down the other catwalk, enticingly swaying fake wings strapped to her arms.
They got seated at a booth within clear view of one of the catwalks and a server came to take their drink orders. Stolas ordered one of the cocktails from the menu because he didn’t know what all they could make, and he didn’t want to be difficult.
“So, Stolas, have you ever been to a club before?” Cassius asked casually, half-shouting to carry over the thumping noise.
“Vassago took me to a club once, for my 18th birthday,” Stolas shouted back.
“So, this is your second time?”
Stolas nodded.
“You’ve got so much to learn!”
They engaged in chit-chat while drinking and watching the exotic dancers. Stolas wasn’t initially interested at all, but after a while he noticed that the other stage further away from them occasionally had male dancers. He couldn’t see them very well from across the room. Could he get away with taking a closer look? He glanced at his partners. Vassago was busy talking to Andrealphus, while Cassius had slipped over to the dance floor and was grinding against some Bapthomet girl, who was dressed in neon spandex.
Stolas muttered an “excuse me”, which went unheard by both Vassago and Andrealphus in the noise, and slipped away into the crowd. Being a foot taller than the other clubbers, he had no trouble seeing where he was going. He made his way over to the stage. An imp stripper was just coming down the catwalk, wearing a spiked leather jacket on top of a pair of tight shorts and a body harness. His red skin was covered in what appeared to be a bad case of vitiligo. He made his way down to the pole and wrapped his tail around it, leaning back and contorting his body in seductive ways. As the show went on, the imp shed layers of clothing, eventually down to just the body harness and a pair of thongs emphasizing his bulge. Stolas felt his cheeks glowing, telling himself it was just the effects of alcohol.
“There you are,” Andrealphus said from behind him. Stolas was startled by his sudden appearance.
“You shouldn’t wander off like that. Stay where I can see you.”
“I’m sorry,” Stolas muttered, hoping that Andrealphus hadn’t seen where his eyes had been a moment ago.
“Let’s go back to the others. We’ve got a little surprise for you.”
The surprise turned out to be a private dancer, a succubus sporting white, fake wings. They got Stolas settled into a chair in the middle of an open floor and gave him a stack of singles, inviting him to stick them under her thong. The dancer started circling him like prey, swaying her hips and brushing against him with her wings. Stolas felt wildly uncomfortable. He hated being the center of attention and the mixture of perfume and body odor wafting out of the succubus was off-putting to him. He felt his talons curling up, his breathing growing heavier, which the dancer mistook as a sign of arousal. She gyrated over his lap while he tried to seek out Vassago in the crowd, pleading with his eyes to put an end to this. Cassius was very much into the show, howling and making lewd gestures. Some other patrons were gathered around the circle, cheering them on.
When the song finally ended, the dancer pretended to kiss Stolas on the cheek, her lips never actually making contact, and then swayed off. His shoulders slumped with relief when she disappeared behind the velvet curtain.
“You’re such a lucky guy, Stolas!” Cassius shouted. “Man, I wish I was getting married.”
The night went on and most of them were getting highly inebriated, aside from Vassago, who was taking it easy. Drunkenness made Cassius increasingly loud, lewd and outgoing, while Stolas and Andrealphus got quieter and broodier. Once Vassago managed to talk Cassius over into dancing with him, Stolas was left alone at the table with Andrealphus.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Andrealphus said slowly.
“Do what?” Stolas asked, taken aback by the statement that seemed to have come out of nowhere.
“You make it look so easy,” Andrealphus said. “You just don’t know… You’re so naïve and soft.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stolas said with a frown. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
Andrealphus shook his head like trying to shake off something invisible stuck to his feathers. “Excuse me,” he muttered, and wandered off towards the bathroom, with one of the security guards trailing behind him.
Stolas found himself alone at the table. He glanced over at the dance floor, where Cassius and Vassago were having the time of their lives.
“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice said.
Stolas turned to look, coming face to face with a handsome looking incubus. He was dressed up like one of the patrons.
“Oh, sorry, I was just zoned out,” he said.
“You look like you got something on your mind,” the incubus said. “I could lend you an ear, if you’re up to it.”
“It’s just that I didn’t choose to be here,” Stolas said. “I was just obligated to come because I’m getting married in two weeks. I can’t really go into details, I’m afraid.”
“That sounds tough,” the incubus said with a sympathetic grimace. “Mind if I sit here?”
“Knock yourself out,” Stolas said, making room for him on the padded bench.
They talked for a while and occasionally, the incubus would accidentally brush his fingers against Stolas’ (surely it was an accident?).
“I see your glass is empty. Can I get you another one?”
“That would be nice,” Stolas said with a grateful nod.
“I’ll be right back,” the incubus said with a smile.
He went over to the bar and ordered two drinks. On the way back, he stopped at a tall side table and stealthily emptied the contents of a small vial into one of the drinks. He mixed it up with the stirrer, then picked up the drinks and went over to the table as if nothing just happened.
After just a couple of sips, Stolas started to feel odd. The lights got brighter and there was a metallic taste in his mouth. The sounds seemed to echo and distort, like coming through a filter. His head felt blurry and his face was starting to feel partially numb.
“I'm sorry, I need to go to the bathroom,” he muttered, but when he stood up, his limbs felt awfully heavy and he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. The incubus said something, reaching out to support him.
Blitzo was on a break, wearing a small satin bathrobe embroidered with the club’s logo, having a drink to get ready for his upcoming performance. He had noticed the owl in the crowd earlier, being followed by security guards from a distance. His crown hat instantly marked him as royalty. Blitzo knew who he was – pretty much everyone did. Royalty didn’t really blend in with the crowd.
He observed him from a distance, feeling something was off. When those white pupils appeared in the otherwise pure, red eyes, alarm bells started ringing in his head. He could see the incubus helping him stand up, an incubus that likely wasn’t part of his troupe. Blitzo scanned the crowd, spotting two of the hellhound guards chatting up a waitress, drinks in their hands. He hopped down from his barstool and rushed over to them.
“Hey, dipshits! What are they paying you for? Your client is out there, about to get kidnapped or worse. Are you just going to look the other way and let it happen?”
The guards turned to look, spotting the incubus leading Stolas towards the bathrooms. One of them said something on his earpiece and next thing you know, all four of them were closing in on the pair.
“Hold it right there,” one of the guards growled.
The incubus let go of Stolas and tried to make a run for it. One of the guards wrapped his arm around Stolas to hold him steady while the other three ran after the incubus.
Blitzo spotted Vassago and Cassius on the dance floor, completely oblivious to what was going on. He went over to them.
“You two with the prince? You might want to see to him; he just had a close call.”
Before they had a chance to ask follow-up questions, Blitzo had already disappeared into the crowd.
Stolas wasn’t sure what was going on but suddenly, there was a lot of commotion around him. He could feel an arm draped around him. Vassago appeared, saying something to him but his brain couldn’t make sense of the words. Later Andrealphus came, as well. People were shouting. It sounded like they were angry. Were they mad at him? Did he do something wrong? Of course it was his fault, it always was.
When someone said it was time to go home, it sounded like a very good idea and he couldn’t agree more. Overall, doing what people said seemed like the way to go. The ride home was just flashing lights and muffled noise. He found himself drooling on Vassago’s shoulder.
When they got to the palace, they put him in bed in his party clothes and he protested, saying it was too early. He couldn’t understand why there were so many people in his bedroom. What were they all doing in there?
In the morning, when he woke up, he found himself still in his day clothes, with two hellhounds standing guard by the door, and his valet sleeping in a chair by the wall.
“He’s awake,” one of the guards said.
“I’m sorry, I must have had too much to drink,” Stolas said, getting out of bed. He was struck with a splitting headache. He squeezed his temples, letting out a pained grunt.
The valet, now awake, came over to him.
“Master Stolas, you’d better sit down.”
He instantly obeyed. He had gotten used to obeying instructions since childhood.
“Master Stolas, I was informed there was an incident last night at the club. Your security detail failed to uphold its duties properly and as a result, you were drugged. They were able to de-escalate the situation before anything drastic happened. Master Paimon was furious when he heard the news. The guards involved have been replaced and the club has been blacklisted to ensure this never happens again.”
“Oh gods,” Stolas muttered, rubbing his temples. “Could you bring me a glass of water?”
About an hour later, Stella called. She was furious.
“Andy told me what happened. Did you really have to make a scene? Everybody is talking about it. This is so embarrassing! I don’t know how we’re going to cover this up.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember what happened. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“Yeah, right,” Stella spat out. “You just couldn’t handle being ignored and you decided to accept a drink from a stranger! Who does that?”
“I – did? I’m sorry, I sincerely don’t recall any of it.”
“You were lucky someone tipped off those useless guards before that pervert was able to lure you away. Don’t you get it? He was going to molest you. Do you have any idea how that reflects upon me?”
“I’m sorry, Stella, I never meant to embarrass you,” Stolas muttered, feeling like he had just gotten hit over the head by a 2-by-4.
“You better not get yourself kidnapped or murdered before the wedding. You think you can just weasel your way out of it by getting yourself in a hospital or a freakin’ cemetery? No, I’ve worked too long and hard for this. We are getting married and that’s final. If your useless security guards can’t do their job right, I’ll send over ones that can.”
Some voice in the back of Stolas’ head was telling him this isn’t right, that he shouldn’t just swallow it.
“I’m sorry, Stella, I won’t let it happen again,” he found himself saying.
“You’d better not,” she said and disconnected the call without saying goodbye.
Someone knocked on the door. A lackey came inside, announcing that the doctor had arrived. Stolas was examined and the doctor took some blood samples.
For the next two weeks, he was practically a prisoner in his own palace, only allowed to go out for the wedding rehearsal. He was accompanied by at least two guards at all times – “for his own protection”, they said. He told himself it was just Stella, showing that she cared and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.