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Stolas was awoken by a gut-twisting feeling, but not the kind that would usually make him throw up, leaving his insides empty. The kind that brings relief after overdrinking.
No, no. It was a feeling of trouble, that something was terribly wrong. The very same one he had felt when Blitzø and his team were in trouble on Earth.
Stolas twisted his beak into a grimace at the memory of Blitzø, finally opening his eyes to look around. His bedroom looked the same as always. Unchanged ever since Stella moved out of the palace, it felt frozen in time.
There was no sound except for the ticking of the many old, handmade clocks scattered all over the place and Stolas’s nervous breathing.
He rose from the bed and headed towards Via’s room, just in case the unsettling feeling was about her. As he approached, he couldn’t hear any alarming sounds. Upon slowly opening the door, he was met with the sight of his starfire sleeping soundly, looking all peaceful.
No, the feeling wasn’t about her this time, not like the time when, as a child, she decided to explore the palace’s underground and got lost in it until Stolas found her. He closed the door without waking up his daughter and walked away to the kitchen.
The moon shone through the windows, and shadows and red light danced along the kitchen walls, while Stolas sat on the couch, deep in thought.
The gut feeling had never failed him before. In the early years of his marriage, it was either about Via or warning him about Stella’s bad mood. Well, worse than usual. A few times, it was about his staff. One particular memory stuck with him: an intern setting one of the curtains on fire.
Stolas knew it was an accident, but Stella didn’t care and threw the imp through one of the stained-glass windows, shattering it—poor little thing.
Still, it couldn’t be about Stella. She was gone, and he was safe from her heavy hands and ear-piercing screeching. The staff was gone for the night. They worked during the day, but they had their own houses and families to take care of.
All he could think of who this feeling could be about was Blitzø. It had to be, or maybe his heartbreak after what happened during the full moon and yesterday’s Anti-Blitzø Party was making him insane. The only person outside Via that kept him sane was now out of his life, and not even his love for his daughter could save him from this feeling of overwhelming darkness.
Fighting with himself, Stolas impulsively plucked out the feathers on his left arm. He couldn’t decide whether to trust the feeling this time and check on Blitzø.
What if it was nothing? What if Blitz was living his best life? Life without the chore of having to touch and bed him every month? He would yet again make a fool of himself in front of the imp. He would look like a desperate idiot just looking for excuses to get attention from the object of his affections.
“Fuck it,” Stolas cursed under his breath, swiftly rising from his seat. If something bad were happening to Blitzø, he would never forgive himself for not intervening. It would be much worse for something to happen to the assassin than to further confirm that he was an imbecile.
Before the rush of adrenaline wore off, Stolas tore open reality, creating a portal that took him to Blitzø’s place. Of all the scenarios he could have imagined, this was not it.
Blitzø lay on a worn-out couch, soaked in tears where his head was placed. The imp’s head was dangling over the side, and empty alcohol bottles surrounded him. There were way too many of them, and the stench of cheap booze with questionable origins hit Stolas’s nostrils.
The prince swallowed, trying his best not to puke on the floor right then and there. Blitzø didn’t seem to notice he had an unexpected guest.
Had he passed out from drinking all this? This shit would barely make Stolas lightheaded if he ever dared drink such weak alcohol from fishy sellers, but maybe it worked differently for imps.
“Blitzø?” he called softly at first, but his ex-sex partner remained still, so he tried louder. “Blitzø! Do you hear me?!”
Again, there was silence, so the owl approached the imp. As he did, his foot kicked a thin cardboard box. Stolas bent his neck to look at it. It was a white, empty box of painkillers.
Why would Blitzø need so many drugs? Was he that much in pain? Was he sick or…
“Oh, dear,” Stolas whispered. He may have lived a sheltered life, but he read enough to know that alcohol and pain meds were a dangerous combo for mortal hellborns and humans alike.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, Stolas bent to see the imp’s face up close. His eyes were shut tight, and he was sweating. Stolas tapped his cheek intensely.
“Blitzø, please, wake up! It’s me, Stolas!” the bird wailed, and, thank Lucifer, before the first tears formed in his eyes, he saw his beloved’s eyes slightly open, enough for him to see the yellow of them and the red pupils. So it had to have been only minutes since the imp had stuffed himself with a bunch of meds.
“Sssstols? Fat ‘re yof doin’ ‘ere…?” the assassin slurred.
“Apparently, saving you from committing the biggest mistake of your life!” Stolas dramatically threw his hands up. He was terrified — the anger lingered somewhere beneath it, waiting, but fear and worry smothered it for now. “I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said in a much calmer voice as he picked Blitzø up.
That turned out to be a mistake, because the imp suddenly became more energetic than Stolas would have expected from someone who drank liters of alcohol and took Lucifer knows how many pain meds.
“No, no! I don’t wanna go to a hospital! Leave me alone! I’m not going there!”
The imp tried to free himself from Stolas’ hold — sloppy, uncoordinated bursts of strength driven more by panic than control, though not strong enough to make the prince release him.
“Think, Stolas, think. I have to take him to a hospital before his state gets worse… or—oh, Lucifer—maybe making him vomit would help? At least for now?”
It was stupid, but he had seen in movies and read in his books how the characters helped the other person vomit to get rid of whatever was poisoning them. If it weren’t enough, he would take Blitzø ASAP to Sloth. If he had to, he would tie him up, but he would make it fucking happen.
“Okay, okay, I’m not gonna take you to a hospital,” Stolas half-lied, trying to placate Blitzø while opening a new portal back to his room. “But I’m taking you to my place.”
Blitzø only mhmm’ed in response, instantly relaxing in the owl’s hold. The bird carried him straight to his bathroom and positioned him in front of the toilet.
“You have to vomit all the crap you swallowed tonight, before more of it gets into your bloodstream. Please, darling. You must already be feeling nauseous from all this alcohol,” Stolas pleaded, his hands not leaving Blitzø’s shoulders.
Stolas wasn’t sure whether Blitzø's nodding and mumbling were agreement to his offer, or just his drunkenness. Determined to make the imp vomit, he was about to shove his fingers deep inside Blitzø’s throat to provoke a gag reflex, but to his relief, the imp started vomiting without using more drastic measures.
“There, there,” Stolas rubbed his back soothingly as Blitzø continued filling the toilet with the contents of his stomach. “You’re doing great. You will feel much better after this.”
A thought dashed through his mind that had to be one of the things normal couples did for each other, and his heart ached with longing for Blitzø to finally understand his feelings.
One final cough brought his attention back to Blitzø, who, panting, leaned against the toilet, looking more exhausted than before, and Stolas couldn’t help but wince in sympathy, knowing damn well what it was like.
“Are you done, now, darling? Feeling better?” Stolas tilted his head to see Blitzø’s face better.
“Mhmm…”
Stolas sighed in relief. “I’m going to take you to bed now, alright?”
“Mmm… kinky…” Blitzø mumbled with a weak smirk.
Stolas couldn’t help but giggle, feeling the tension partially leave his body.
“You are certainly not going to do anything kinky, you can be sure of that, Blitzø. You are going to rest. You need to.”
There was no protest from the imp when Stolas picked him up again and carried him to the bed, and then assisted him with undressing, leaving only his boxers on.
He also made sure Blitzø had drunk a full glass of water to prevent dehydration after such an ordeal and put blankets over him once the imp made himself comfortable. Without losing sight of the imp, Stolas left the bed and undressed himself as well, watching as his guest finally gave in to sleep.
Doubting he would be able to get more sleep tonight, too anxious that if he let his eyes close even for a second, Blitzø’s state would worsen, Stolas quietly slipped under the sheets to be closer to Blitzø and to have a better chance of noticing any alarming changes in the imp’s breathing. For now, however, his rhythm seemed normal. Even and steady.
Rolling on his back, staring at the bed’s canopy, Stolas sighed yet again, failing to comprehend what had driven Blitzø to do such a thing.
Why did Blitzø think it was a good idea? And most of all, where was his daughter? In all this chaos, he forgot to ask Blitzø about that. It was another question to add to the pile Stolas left for tomorrow to ask about if the imp would be feeling well enough and within reason to finally properly “do words” with him. Blitzø really owed him this time.
Stolas winced at the prospect of another difficult conversation with the imp, still not sure whether it had been the assassin’s carelessness or a true suicide attempt. Just in case, he couldn’t be harsh with his former lover, no matter how pissed the imp would make him feel, to avoid pushing Blitzø toward trying to off himself again.
How, in all the hells, had he forgotten Blitzø had access to multiple weapons? If he had used a gun or a knife, Stolas would most likely be crying now over his beloved’s cold, dead body. Or his imp could have walked into the middle of the road and let some vehicle hit him, or he could have jumped from a building…
Guns. Knives. Roads. Buildings. So many ways. Too many.
Oh, lords, there were so many opportunities for an imp to kill themselves in a city like the one where Blitzø lived. It made Stolas sick to his stomach, seeing images of his lover dead in different ways, clouding his vision.
Closing his eyes, Stolas began taking longer inhales and exhales until he no longer felt the need to panic, and his racing heart calmed.
“He is safe with you. You will make sure something like this won’t ever happen again,” he muttered to himself, glancing at Blitz to see him still fast asleep.
The more the prince thought about what happened, the more it felt like a desperate cry for help, as if the imp had hoped someone would find him and save him at the very last minute. Or maybe he was reading too much into this? What if Blitzø didn’t mean to kill himself?
But it wasn’t enough to calm his anxieties; the what-if Blitzø was suicidal was haunting him like the worst nightmares. No, it was a nightmare, but one that happened in real life, and Stolas couldn’t escape it.
If he was unable to fall asleep, he could make good use of the few hours he had before Blitzø woke up.
As Stolas picked up his phone from the nightstand, he started looking for any info online about how to deal with a demon after a suicide attempt, considering that maybe buying a book or two about the topic wasn’t a bad idea either.
Hell, of course, wasn't rich in mental health literature, for death and pain were the very fabric of this place. Yet the prince continued to search for information. As he leafed through underrated books and advertisements for shady clinics, he occasionally stopped to save the ones that looked promising, and time passed slowly.
He felt his strength slowly wane in the darkness of his chamber, lit only by the dim light of his phone and the delicate silver glow filtering through the window. Perhaps it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, perhaps the glances at the imp sleeping beside him — visibly distressed and under the influence, but present, safe — soothing him in some way.
So, as his eyelids began to grow heavy and his tired mind blurred the text on the screen, he allowed himself to reach out to Blitzø and tentatively stroke his sweaty but warm, alive cheek.
“Selfish,” he thought, but that gesture, that closeness — it was like reassurance, allowing him to fall asleep.
***
The night passed without dreams for Stolas, like a blink of an eye, and very lightly — so lightly that a grumpy groan from the other side of the bed woke him up.
He quickly regained his clarity, as if he hadn't fallen asleep at all, and looked at the imp fidgeting beside him. Stolas's hand was still right next to Blitzø's head. The assassin seemed to be observing the owl's relaxed fingers, though his slightly opened eyes were unfocused.
Stolas held his breath, unsure whether to react to his partner's (ex-partner's?) wake-up call or give him a moment of silence so he could wake up peacefully.
The most important thing was to see him conscious and apparently strong enough to be grumpy about the morning. And that alone allowed the royal to feel a deep sense of relief, enough to close his eyes for a second and let the remnants of sleep flow, listening to Blitzø's conscious, steady breathing.
Awakening came to him abruptly when, half-consciously, he moved his hand and didn't feel the imp still lying in the sheets.
Stolas, betrayed by that sweet moment of relief and bliss, had fallen back asleep, soundly enough to let his guard down and not notice Blitzø's disappearance. He jumped up, staring blankly at the curve of the sheets where his beloved should have been, then scanning the room, searching for him — where was he, where was he, where was he, where was he — until he froze at a noise from the next room.
Bathroom, shower. The knot in Stolas's throat barely allowed him to call out.
“Blitzø?”
“Give me a moment! Damn it, I'm all sticky and sweaty!” Blitzø’s voice came from the bathroom, muffled by the running water.
The prince collapsed onto the bed, his body as heavy as lead and remarkably limp at the same time. A deep exhale escaped him as he cupped his face, his fingers almost digging into his skin.
How could he have fallen asleep? How could he have let his guard down when Blitzø was still in such an unstable state? How selfish of him to allow himself to find the relief in someone who, just hours ago, had nearly died in his arms?
“You would let him die just to indulge in a moment of pleasure,” his thoughts hissed, bitter and dark.
Guilt choked him until the overly energetic bang of the door opening brought him back into reality, and in that exaggerated way, Blitzø found himself back in the bedroom.
“Yoo, Stolaaaas!” Blitzø greeted him, cheerfulness forced and a little too loud, while Stolas frog blinked at him, confused.
For someone who had been on the edge of death just twelve hours ago, Blitzø was weirdly energetic, as if all of this mess had happened only in Stolas's head.
“Um—oh, well… good morning, dar—Blitzø,” Stolas quickly corrected himself.
“I guess we fucked last night? Phew, you won’t believe what kind of weird fucking nightmare I had! It was just a stupid dream, am I right?”
The assassin kept spilling words while Stolas tried to process the situation. It seemed like Blitzø didn’t remember yesterday, and… Oh, Lords, he thought it was the morning after the Full Moon.
“Yo, Stols? Where are all the toys we used yesterday?”
Stolas was too flabbergasted to find any words. Everything he could have said seemed so wrong and out of place. He had no idea what to say that wouldn’t set the imp off. He so badly didn’t want to have a repeat of their Full Moon fight with his ex-lover right now.
“Birdie, you okay?” Blitzø finally seemed to get the hint about the owl’s state.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Stolas managed to utter.
Then he scolded himself silently. It was too early to show his anger and hurt from two days ago. Blitzø surely wasn’t pretending. Maybe. He could have really forgotten the evening before.
Confusion and hurt flickered in the imp’s eyes for a split second. “Did I not fuck you good enough? I-I can always do better! No need to be moody!”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Stolas cursed in his mind.
Then the question came, so similar to the one Blitzø had asked during the Full Moon, with the same tone of voice and wagging his tail nervously.
On top of all that, Stolas didn’t want to have deja vu from that blessed day.
The prince’s heart squeezed. It was never about how bad Blitzø was in bed. Quite the opposite, in his eyes, the imp was the god of sex.
Did he never show him enough appreciation for his skill? Wasn’t he vocal enough with his praises?
“Blitzø… I… It’s not about that. You were always amazing in bed. I have no complaints about your skill in that regard.”
He dared to put a hand on Blitzø’s shoulder, hoping it would emphasize his words and not result in the imp rejecting touch from him outside sex. Thankfully, his beloved seemed to relax at that.
After a moment of awkward silence, Blitzø spoke again. “It’s weird that I don't remember getting to plow your birdpuss. We can fix that if you want,” he purred, giving the bird a sexy smirk, one that in the past would have Stolas swoon and get wet in an instant.
It didn’t help that Blitzø was still only in boxers. Stolas could clearly see all the muscles and how they shifted following each of Blitzø’s moves. He hadn’t changed a bit through all those months. He was still as handsome as the day he crashed Stella’s party.
Stolas had to swallow hard, keeping his lust in check, before he was able to answer anything back.
“It’s not about what I want anymore. I want to know what you want, Blitzø.”
“I want to plow your pretty ass,” Blitzø growled, and before Stolas could form any response, his beloved surprised him and pulled him into a horny kiss, his hands traveling down to hold the bird’s buttcheeks. Stolas’s beak left an unintentional moan, and he could feel a twinge of lust rising in him.
“It’s wrong, too early. We have to talk. There was so much to talk about,” a whirlwind of thoughts dashed through his mind, and yet he couldn’t help but give in to it.
It had been so long since they kissed, he missed it so much. The feeling of Blitzø’s hot lips, his hands on his body. Maybe he could have shown his imp again that his feelings were genuine, that he truly still wanted more, so when Blitzø pulled away, Stolas trapped his lips into another kiss, but way more tender and romantic, like never before, gently caressing his lover's cheeks with his thumbs.
At first, Blitzø tensed, but it wasn’t long before he relaxed and melted into the kiss. Stolas didn’t count how long it lasted, but he was pretty sure it was one of their longest kisses. They had to part eventually as their lungs started to burn for air.
“It was... rather nice, don't you think?” Stolas asked shyly.
“Yeah, I guess. If that's what you're into now, we can do more of that.”
“No, no, no. Not this again.” Stolas grimaced.
How could Blitzø have been so blind to all of his signs? It seemed so tempting to use the fact that the imp thought all of their recent fights were just a nightmare. They could have just gone back to how things were, and he could have pretended just to see Blitzø at least once a month.
Then he remembered how awful he felt for creating the deal, for using Blitzø as if he were his personal sex slave. This was so wrong, and he knew he would feel awful if he gave in to the temptations. He was already feeling like the worst monster for ever having such desires.
Carefully taking Blitzø's wrists, Stolas removed them from his shoulders, which the imp had already leaned against after touching his ass, likely ready to initiate intercourse. Stolas felt a chill where his lover’s hot body pressed against his feathers, reaching right to his skin, and the resulting passion was almost unbearable. He marveled at how easily the imp ignited desire within him, and how hard it was to extinguish it, even though his mind clearly screamed that he shouldn't.
In that moment, the owl couldn’t shake the thoughts of how pathetic he was, how submissive, how desperate. Perhaps Blitzø was right, that he was just a cheap toy. Something inside Stolas trembled with anger.
“I love him,” he thought, furious at the idea that this passion, these ardent feelings, this blind adoration for a “common” imp wasn’t love. Slowly intertwining their hands, the prince hoped the gesture would convey the depth of his feelings, his true, sincere emotions.
“What do you say…” Stolas began, lost in Blitzø’s heated gaze. “Maybe... Uh, we could have some tea?”
The mischievous spark in the imp’s eyes seemed to fade, and he tensed, his bossy smile stiffening. After a tense second—or maybe two—of silence, Blitzø looked away, clicking his tongue, and their hands suddenly separated, leaving a chill between Stolas’s fingers.
“Sure, whatever,” Blitzø muttered, appearing uninterested.
Stolas felt tension building in his muscles. Outright anger that dismissing a small, sweet gesture came so easily to Blitzø. As if he didn't care.
“Maybe he didn't. Maybe you never cared either. Maybe there was nothing more to this than an agreement, an exchange, exploitation. Maybe you were making up this feeling to feel better about yourself,” a scolding voice whispered in Stolas’s mind, filling his heart with another wave of doubts.
“I’ll make breakfast,” Stolas swallowed the pain and the persistent thoughts. Not that he knew how to make anything besides cereal, tea, coffee, or maybe simple sandwiches. “You should eat something after… after last night. Do you have an appetite?”
Blitzø looked at him from the edge of the bed. “I definitely have an appetite for you,” he said with a wide, toothy smile. Stolas felt a twinge—not entirely from excitement. Frustration grew inside him, and guilt along with it.
“You created this relationship to be like this. You never said you wanted anything more than sex,” the voice rang bitterly in Stolas’s head for the millionth time.
“But how could he not know that it was more than that?” Stolas argued back as he returned his attention to the imp.
"Blitzø," he said, more sharply than he wanted.
“Okay, okay,” the imp raised his hands in defense. “You're so sensitive today. Almost like you switched minds with some moody bitch.” Just like that, the assassin found himself in front of Stolas again, close, too close. “Or maybe you're playing hard to get because you want me to try harder? I know how you like to do all kinds of roleplay,” his voice was low and growling, in a way that had always made Stolas’s heart race, but now it made him sick. “You can be this sweet, innocent boy, and I can be the cruel, brutal man who leads you astray.”
“I don't want that,” Stolas gasped, trembling in a very unpleasant way.
Blitzø pulled away, the playful fire fading from his eyes. He removed his hands from the avian's hips and leaned back, creating a distance between them.
"Fine," he replied without any emotion.
Stolas let the silence settle, and though it was heavy and awkward, he was grateful for it. His heart pounded, and his thoughts couldn't stop racing. He had to tell Blitzø the truth; they had to talk, damn it, even if it ruined everything a second time.
He'd used his position and the imp's weakness to his advantage once before. A second time could kill him. He had to tell him. He had to show him that he loved him, not just lusted after him. Blitzø had to understand that.
“Okay, let's go eat that breakfast,” Blitzø said, seemingly nonchalant again. “And when we eat, maybe you could tell me about last night, hmm? What was your favorite part? Did you like the Dragon Driller 5000? I got it special.”
Stolas tuned out the rest of the imp’s monologue. That was it. He had had enough.
How could Blitzø make everything about sex even in circumstances such as this? Sure, he, Stolas, was partially to blame for it, as he had been the one to initiate a formal deal, but goodness gracious, how could Blitzø be so willfully ignorant, and somehow incapable of reading when it was or wasn’t time to make things sexual?
The frustration within him was welling up, making his insides burn, mixing with the hurt from the past days—no, weeks, months—along with his own self-hatred and guilt. Guilt for tying Blitzø to him, for thinking only of his own fanciful dreams and foolish fantasies that were always doomed to fail. How could he ever believe that he could have happiness, have love?
Well, even if he had been naive, there was certainly no cause for Blitzø to be so vicious, to crush him into the ground. He certainly knew how to send a message in the most painful way possible. And now here he was, back in Stolas’s bedroom and spewing more nonsense.
“Stolas! Hell to Stolas! Do you hear me?”
Stolas blinked, startled, and his vision refocused on the imp’s face, so close to his own, as Blitzø waved a hand before his eyes.
“Oh, yes, I can hear you, thank you very much,” he said, harshly.
“Wow, are we sassy today? That’s something new. You’re really off today. Did you have a nightmare too? If so, you should be relieved it was just a nightmare and not real shit. You won’t believe the bullshit you spilled in my dream.”
Stolas felt his feathers stand on end, making him look fluffier and twice as big.
Of course, Blitzø must have meant what he said the last two times they saw each other. Whether on purpose or not, his inappropriate words and behavior only added salt to Stolas’s already wounded and aching heart. His insides were about to explode. He felt as if his entire being was about to explode, tearing him from this pitiful existence.
“I don’t know if you’re playing dumb or what, but those things I said on the Full Moon? They were real! Real to me, anyway. You don’t have to reciprocate my feelings, but you cannot just pretend they aren’t there.”
“The fuck?” Blitzø looked at him in disbelief, tilting his head to the side, more shocked than angry. “Did we have the same dream or what?”
“Look at the fucking crystal on your glove!” Stolas growled, pointing at the sofa next to his wardrobe, where Blitzø’s clothes had been neatly folded by Stolas himself, with the gloves on top, the asmodean crystal clearly visible from the bed.
Blitzø turned his head toward where Stolas was pointing; his eyes widened, his mouth went agape, and his body froze, including his usually expressive tail.
“Wha-what? No, no, this can’t be true…” Blitzø exhaled.
“But it is. Along with all the bullshit we said. Yes, we, including you,” Stolas fumed, but still not moving from his spot, staring at Blitzø fiercely.
“If you are still so pissed at me, then why am I here?!”
Stolas just stared at him.
“What?” Blitzø turned his head back to look at him. “I don’t remember fucking calling you or spamming you gay horse memes! I left you alone as you wanted to!”
“For Lucifer’s sake, Blitzø! I never said I wanted you to leave me alone!”
“Yes, you did, by portalling me out of the palace when I was in the middle of saying sorry!”
“Wait, did Blitzø want to apologize to me for his outburst?”
The thoughts of what ifs if he let Blitzø stay went through his head. They could have talked things out right there. They could have avoided going to that party. Everything that happened afterwards wouldn’t have happened.
Maybe Blitzø had a point, and he shouldn’t have portaled him out, but he didn’t want the imp to see his tears. He wanted, more than anything, to be left alone and sulk back then.
“Maybe you’re right, and I apologize for that. But that doesn’t change anything about what you said on that evening! Did you even listen to me then? Did I really look like I was roleplaying?! We’ve done that hundreds of times in bed; you should be able to tell the fucking difference between me roleplaying and being serious!” Stolas was spilling his emotions again, opening the fresh wounds. The words wouldn’t stop coming. “You want to know why you are here?! You tell me what your goal was by emptying a bunch of alcohol bottles and a box of painkillers!” Stolas spat it all in one breath, the outburst leaving him panting, his frown sharp and angry as he stared at Blitzø.
Now that he had finally brought up the events from the other day, the anger started to wear off, leaving him once more feeling terrible for taking his anger out on Blitzø, despite telling himself he wouldn’t do that.
It felt as if fate had given him a second chance to go through this conversation differently, more gently, better. Still, irrevocably, he destroyed this chance by giving in to his emotions. He was always giving in to his emotions.
“Blitzø, I…” he began, feeling the fear building in his throat, stealing his voice.
He expected Blitzø to yell, to fight back, to call him a pompous, rich asshole, or something even worse, but no response came. Instead, the assassin curled on himself, arms wrapped around his own chest in a self-hug, and his eyes began to look unfocused, as if his body was still in the room with Stolas, but his mind was somewhere else.
Stolas was familiar with that. It was his response to Stella and their many attempts to conceive an egg. He often acted like that after Stella took her wrath out on him for the smallest of things, for one word she didn’t like.
“Blitzø?” Stolas called him in a small voice, but the assassin didn’t react, so he slowly shifted to first put a hand on his shoulder, and when Blitzø didn’t flinch, he pressed himself against his back, wrapping his arms around the imp’s chest.
There was no reaction, only Blitzø's heart throbbing in his chest, beneath Stolas's talons as the prince gently embraced his beloved's torso. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, nor did he know if he, the cause of Blitzø's state, should or had the right to even touch him and try to comfort him, reassure him, make him feel safe.
Pathetic, saving him after he'd already ruined him.
“Blitzø…” he repeated quietly, almost inaudibly, like a silent prayer in the middle of Hell. All Stolas knew was that in this very state, in moments when everything around him was too big, too intense, too terrifying to face, he wanted someone to hold him.
That somewhere outside, beyond the soft cage of his body and overloaded mind, was someone waiting to help him out. That this silent cry for help would reach someone's ears. He wanted to show that he understood. And above all, that he was sorry.
“I'm sorry…” he managed to stammer, trying to maintain his strength and stability for both of them. “Blitzø, it... It wasn't supposed to be like this. Because I was just so terribly afraid…” The imp in his arms felt like a shell with nothing inside. Static and silent, like a statue. Stolas stroked his skin so gently as if he could tear it away if he pressed too hard. “Everything you thought was a dream... It's true. Every word.” In a moment of weakness, Stolas leaned his head against Blitzø's shoulder. Even now, he couldn’t help but rely on him. “And I'm so terribly sorry. Everything went so terribly wrong, and…” A weak sob crept into his words. “Please believe me, I never meant to abandon you or take away what you created. I just wanted... to free you,” it might have just been his impression, but somewhere beneath his hands, Blitzø shifted slightly. “Because it was all wrong from the start,” Stolas squeezed his eyes shut tightly, loosening his arms around the imp, but not letting go completely.
Blitzø remained still, absentminded, and the owl could only hope that whatever he said had sunk in. Damn it, he'd say it a thousand times if he had to. Still gently stroking his beloved's skin, he let time pass, breathing deeply to steady his tears and to allow the imp to regain his composure as well. The distant ticking of a clock echoed repeatedly.
“Blitzø,” Stolas began, his voice cautious and so very tired, “last night... I don't know how to explain it, but I felt something was wrong with you. So… I'm sorry, but I went to your apartment. And found you... like this.”
The imp stirred — though it was more like a twitch of frozen muscles — and drew in a shuddering breath.
“Mhm.”
“I-I didn't know what to do, so I just took you in. It was... I crossed a line... but I really wouldn't forgive myself if you didn't make it out of this.”
“Why would you even care?” Blitz's voice was weak and shaky. Not his. “You saw everyone at the party. Everyone would be happier if I were dead.”
Something — anger at that statement, the need for reassurance, protection, fear—pulled Stolas closer to his beloved again.
“I wouldn't be.” The owl’s feathers gently brushed against the red skin. “I really don't know if that was your goal,” he swallowed before uttering another word. “To... leave. Or was it just an unfortunate accident… But please believe me when I say I'm happy you're alive.”
Something made Blitzø's body tremble, and his breathing seemed to shake as well, something Stolas could only decipher as a short, false, incoherent chuckle.
“You're dramatic. You always are.”
“I could have thousands of years to prove my love to him, and he would never believe me,” Stolas thought bitterly, but his heart was desperately telling him not to give up. Not yet.
“Even if you don't believe me, think of your daughter. How would she have felt coming home to find you like that?”
“She would be better off without me.”
“You really think that? Well, perhaps we should call her and tell her what happened and see what she says,” the prince summoned Blitzø’s phone to his hand, ready to click Loona’s number.
“No, don’t you dare! Please, Stols, don’t do it!” the imp whined, jumping to his feet, trying to reach his phone as Stolas raised his hand to dodge his attempt.
“And your employees as well,” the bird continued, giving Blitzø back his phone. “These people need you, they care about you, and they rely on you. And even if you don't feel the same as I do, even if you never want to see me again, I cannot live in a world you aren't in.”
Blitzø looked at him with teary eyes, a mix of hope and doubt, so clear in his expression, his cheeks already so wet from crying. It felt like Stolas’s heart was pierced with a thousand spears at this sight.
“What about the party… that guy… did he?” Blitzø whispered so quietly, his voice barely audible, as he turned his face to avoid looking into Stolas’s eyes.
Stolas frowned. After he sang his heart out on that stage, it was a blur. He remembered Blitzø was there, and he was sure they talked, and then a handsome succubus appeared. He was pretty sure they danced and kissed.
Oh, dear, he thought Blitzø had already left when this happened, but it was clear now that he had seen it. And what a proof of love was this? Kissing the first guy he met at some stupid fucking party. Being drunk was not an excuse… He wasn’t that drunk to be unable to consent anyway.
“I’m sorry, Blitzø, that you saw it…” His arms went up as he hugged himself. He was about to continue when Blitzø cut in.
“Would you still be sorry if you thought I didn’t see it?” the imp growled, with a new tone in his voice. Was that… a hint of jealousy?
“Yes,” Stolas admitted wholeheartedly. “I’m not proud of that… I regret ever letting this guy near me. If we switched places, I… I wouldn’t be happy about seeing you being kissed by someone else, too. I don’t have any excuse… I’m sorry. I never hated you, yet I still went to that place… with all those awful decorations and merch…”
At that, Blitzø seemed to soften. “‘S fine, birdie. I wasn’t a saint either, and I owe you an apology too.”
Stolas perked at that, raising his eyes to meet Blitzø’s far calmer gaze, yet still so full of pain.
“Do you remember what… fuck, what I said the morning after? Right before I said “fuck you” and left?
Stolas frowned again, the cogs in his brain working at full speed. He remembered Blitzø spilling words about self-hatred and thinking a prince could never love him… He had also said similar things at the party…
He gulped before saying weakly, “Yes.”
“So…” Blitzø scratched his forehead the same way he had that morning. “Fuck, if you didn’t guess already, that was how… how it was. I know it was a shitty excuse to yell at you. I’m… I’m sorry about that, and I’m sorry about not telling you about Striker sooner. And to be clear, he was never my friend. He hurt Millie and Moxxie. Hell, it’s an understatement. He tried to kill us all multiple times, and Fizz too.”
“Fizz?” Stolas tilted his head. “Do you mean that famous clown?”
“Yeah,” Blitzø nodded.
“But I thought you hated each other.”
“I thought that too, but it was a misunderstanding, so we’re buddies again. Some of the toys I brought here on the Full Moon were a gift from him.”
“You... you went to him to get toys for.. me?” Stolas pointed at himself, raising his brows.
“Yeah, I…” Blitz looked away as if flustered by the admission as he continued. "I wanted to spice things up, maybe try something new.”
“I see…”
An awkward silence settled between them again. Blitzø curled in on himself, still looking so unsure, as if in danger, and he looked so small, so vulnerable. Stolas also noticed the imp’s torso was slightly trembling. He must have been cold, so the owl slowly shifted closer to him and hugged the imp from behind, letting the warmth from between his feathers radiate onto the assassin.
To his surprise, Blitzø leaned into that, making a noise that sounded like a sigh of relief, and it encouraged the bird to speak.
“You know… I wouldn’t mind trying these toys… With you… As, you know… Something more. If you want. Only if you want.”
“Do you… Do you really want it?”
“Yes!” Stolas, feeling more confident, dared to nuzzle the side of his beloved’s neck. His heart pounded, making him lightheaded.
“I… care about you too… but I’m also so fucking scared… that I will disappoint you and you're going to hate me like everyone else.”
Stolas tightened his hold on the imp, letting his head rest on the red, smooth shoulder. How could he reassure Blitzø that he would never hate him? He couldn’t even comprehend the idea of ever hating his lover.
Then the sound of the door opening tore Stolas away from his thoughts, and the two demons jumped in place, like one body, at the unexpected sound.
“Dad, are you still asleep? It’s past 10 a.m., and I thought we could…” Octavia stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the imp, whom she strongly disliked. “What is he doing here?” She crossed her arms, pouting and looking at Blitz with hatred and hostility. “I thought you were done with him!”
“Um, hi, kiddo. What made you think that?” Blitzø nervously smiled as he started sweating while trying to cover his naked torso with a blanket.
“I don’t know. How about that shouting match you had with him recently? Mom was so happy about it. I thought maybe you two were going to be together again, but no! He’s here to manipulate you again, right?!”
Oh, lords, what was he supposed to do? That was a lot of information to digest. How did Stella know? And Octavia still thought that he and her mother… And Blitzø curled on himself at the owlette’s rage, looking so miserable.
“Via, sweetie, please calm down,” Stolas got up from the bed and approached the teen.
“How can I calm down when I see you being so naive! Again!” she fumed, her feathers fluffing up.
“You got it all wrong, please let me explain!” Stolas begged.
“So you could tell me more lies? Find excuses for him?” Octavia pointed aggressively at Blitzø, and Stolas turned to look at where she was pointing, to see his imp already dressed in his dark red shirt.
“Blitzø, what are you doing?” Stolas asked, feeling his guts twist unpleasantly.
“Leaving. It’s not a good idea for me to stay here,” Blitzø stated in a tone that brooked no contradiction.
“Even now, you’re making everything about that red asshole! Maybe it would have been better if I moved in with Mom, you wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore,” Octavia stomped, turning toward the door while Blitzø was already out on the balcony.
It was so wrong, wrong, wrong.
Stolas was about to lose the two demons he loved the most in this world.
It was too much, his head hurt, his heart hurt. He couldn’t get the words out to beg for them to stay. He didn’t want to be alone; he couldn’t be.
Surprising himself, he let out a desperate, painfully loud screech that didn’t last more than a few seconds, but it was enough to make the air buzz as his magic broke loose and he fell to his knees.
It still wasn't enough to relieve the pain. His heart was still aching, his mind hurling the worst insults and accusations at him that he didn’t have the strength and will to fight. All he could do was cry.
Lost in his sobbing and misery, he didn’t hear two figures approach him, not until he was startled as he felt two pairs of warm arms embrace him.
There were words he couldn't fully understand, couldn't process, as a rush of noise and pressure enveloped his skull, almost bursting it. His pounding heart echoed in his temples, pumping blood so fast his breath couldn't keep up, broken by painful sobs—he felt as if he was suffocating.
Somewhere beside him, very close, were Via and Blitzø, though Stolas couldn't be sure where either body began. All he felt was their warmth, distinct from the feeling of his blood boiling inside. Something warm and safe, and with that tight embrace—the words. Meaningless now, yet strikingly grounding, though he felt fear in them.
It was his fault; he had caused this. And despite the deepest shame possible, somehow, it comforted him. They stayed, perhaps out of pure fear and pity, but they were there, they were there, and that was enough to regain some control. With it returned a sliver of awareness and discernment.
“Breathe deeply, okay?” Blitzø whispered, trying to sound calm, “Breathe, okay? Inhale. Exhale. Inhale—” with it, the feeling of his chest rising, pressing against Blitzø, and falling, following his every command. Perhaps unconsciously, but Stolas echoed it, gasping for breath. Via, curled up next to her father, slowly stroked his feathers.
“It's okay, Dad,” she whispered, and though the prince expected to hear a sob in her voice, she sounded surprisingly steady. “We're here. You will be okay.”
“S-s-s-s-sorry, V-Vi-” he choked, barely able to pull away from his daughter's soft touch. He pressed harder against Blitzø's chest, but he felt he had to escape this touch, too. He had to pull himself together, had to get himself together. “
“I... I'm... I... thank you,” he carefully raised his hands, weakly signaling for Blitzø and Via to give him space.
The space devoid of their touch suddenly felt cold, but Stolas didn't let it send him spiraling again. They were here, right next to him. His head throbbed, and his face was damp with hot tears and everything that came with the overwhelming sobbing. He was sure it couldn't be described as anything other than a disaster. But his breathing was steadying, and his mind seemed to be going blank, though shame, regret, even disgust still gripped his stomach.
“Thank you,” he managed to say, opening his glassy eyes. Blitzø stayed beside him, a hand's length away, alert and worried, and Via... oh, his little star... Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as her body began to tremble.
“Dad…” she said, her voice choked. “I'm sor—”
“No,” Stolas gasped immediately. “No, no, I don't want to hear that.” His shaking hand reached for the teenager, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “None of what happened, none of it, is your fault, okay? Oh, sweetie, you should never have seen that!”
Octavia watched him as her face began to contort with fear and sobs until she finally took Stolas's hand in hers.
“I-I just got scared…”
“I know, starfire, I know,” Stolas cooed soothingly. “I'm so sorry, dearest.”
“I-it’s fine now, Dad. I guess I didn’t really want to leave, I like it better here… I just… I just wanted you to take me seriously.”
“But I do take you seriously, Via!” Stolas gasped, tightening his hold on Octavia’s hands. “I’m so sorry you believed otherwise. I admit, I got too caught up in the divorce and my… relationship with Blitzø. So many things happened at once, and I failed to see some of the other issues… But I promise you, I do want to better myself, so you wouldn’t feel like this ever again.” Stolas couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and he hugged his daughter as tightly as possible, feeling guilty at how oblivious he was to all the signs Via was giving him over the past weeks and how, in the moment of weakness, he failed his daughter. “I’m sorry for Loo Loo Land and for forgetting about Aztathot's tears. And everything else. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't forget. I’m sorry…” Fuck, he was about to fucking cry again, like a needy child, demanding attention and reassurance from his own daughter when he was supposed to be Octavia’s anchor, but further sobs were stopped by a warm palm on his back.
Stolas turned his head to look at Blitzø, silently witnessing their conversation until now.
“Hey, I think that’s enough sorries for today, Stols,” Blitzø said firmly, looking at him with a concern clear in his eyes as a day. “We get it, you’re sorry. It’s all good now.”
“Y-yeah, Dad. I’m sorry too for lashing out…”
“Shhh. Don’t even mention it. Everything’s fine now,” Stolas cooed, stroking his daughter’s cheek lovingly, while his other hand went to hold Blitzø’s.
It was so surreal to have them both in one place, by his side, with Via for once not being hostile toward the imp, but teaming up with Blitzø to make him feel better.
“Thank you so much. I still owe you two an explanation.” Stolas sniffled. “There’s so much you don’t know, and I know I should have told you this long ago…” he sighed heavily. “Just… wait for me in the kitchen, I will explain things to you and answer all your questions during breakfast. I just need to freshen up a bit, if you don’t mind.”
Octavia and Blitzø exchanged a look before saying almost at the same time.
“Okay…”
“Sure, birdie. If it waited this long, it can wait a few minutes more!” Blitzø smiled at him as he winked. “Just… don’t take forever, Stols.”
Stolas nodded, then watched them as they got up and slowly left his bedroom. Both of them took one more glance at the prince before closing the door behind them, as if making sure he truly wouldn’t do something crazy while left alone.
Just like that, the silence returned, but it was more bearable, knowing that Octavia and Blitzø would wait for him in the kitchen instead of leaving and never coming back.
Stolas exhaled slowly as he carefully got up from the same spot where he had collapsed just minutes ago. His shoulders sagged as the last thread of tension seemed to slip from his body all at once, leaving him feeling almost apathetic. Without his loved ones—without their warmth, their voices, their grounding presence—he became acutely aware of just how exhausted he was. Every part of him ached, physically and mentally.
His head throbbed, his chest still felt tight, from the panic attack he had just experienced. Even his feathers felt heavier, slightly damp and unkempt despite his brief attempt to compose himself.
He really should freshen up. He should take a quick bath or, at the very least, spare a moment to gather himself, make his feathers look presentable instead of letting them stick in all directions like a haystag.
Turning his head, he looked at the bathroom, which was just a few steps away. Stolas could manage. He took one slow step, then another, but stopped as the room spun around him. An unpleasant dizziness clouded his view, and he instinctively reached out for the edge of his bed, then sat on it. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, soft and familiar. He was safe there.
Almost regretting his promise, the owl wondered if he shouldn’t have promised Blitzø and Via a talk tomorrow… then he looked at the pillows. Perhaps, he could lie there for a minute or two; that sure could get rid of the faintness. So he slowly positioned himself on the sheets, lying on his side, facing the balcony. His pillows never seemed so soft and welcoming as today. Just a few minutes, then he would freshen up, go to them, and eat breakfast with his family while explaining everything to them.
The prince hadn’t even realized when the sleep overtook him. But his dreams were far from peaceful, pictures of Octavia turning against him, of dead Blitzø haunting him, and blaming him for everything didn’t give him the peace of mind he had hoped for.
Then he felt an arm gently shaking him and heard a voice calling him.
“Birdie, wake up! What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”
Stolas opened his eyes and sat up abruptly. He was in his bedroom, with concerned Octavia and Blitzø sitting on either side of the bed.
“Dad…?” Octavia asked, looking scared but also worried for him.
Instinctively, his hand went up to clutch his chest as he focused on calming down his breathing before he could say anything. He felt a warm palm rub his back soothingly, without even looking, he knew it was Blitzø’s. He would have recognized the imp’s touch anywhere.
“Feeling better, Stols?”
He nodded, trying to swallow, but his mouth was so dry there was no saliva at all.
“Was it another panic attack?” Via asked, shifting closer to him.
“N-no,” Stolas finally spoke in a hoarse voice. It felt like he hadn’t used his voice in centuries. “It was… it was just a nightmare. I’m fine now, starfire. You needn’t worry.”
“We ate, then the twenty minutes passed, and you still weren’t coming, so we decided to check on you,” Blitz started explaining, his hand not stopping rubbing circles on Stolas’ back. He was grateful for the touch; it helped him stay grounded enough to actually listen to them.
“And we found you crying in your sleep,” Octavia finished.
“My apologies, darlings. I felt dizzy and needed to lie down. It was supposed to be a few minutes. I didn’t plan to sleep…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Blitzø soothed him, still rubbing his back. “Mental shit can be tiring as fuck. It’s good you didn’t push yourself.”
Stolas smiled weakly at the praise, so similar to the one he would receive from Blitzø in bed and yet different because now there was no sexual tension, just genuine concern.
It still felt so surreal to have the two of them in one room, with Via not throwing deadly stares toward Blitzø for once. He was happy to see that Via cared about him more than about her bias toward the assassin. A bias that was Stolas’s fault, as he never explained things to Via as he probably should have long ago.
“Was it…. Was it because of me?” the teen asked, staring at the sheets before her, her fingers playing with the material of her shirt.
“Via, no!” Stolas protested, almost yelling, as he bent forward to take his daughter’s hand. He did it so quickly that he felt a pain in his back, but didn’t care. “I promise you, none of the bad things I experienced now and in the past were your fault! None of this was your fault, alright? It was…”
“If anything, it was my fault, sweetie,” Blitzø cut in as Stolas looked at him, worried.
“Blitzø, please…” Stolas pleaded, turning to hold the imp’s hand now.
The owl wanted to turn, but another wave of pain in his back made him freeze, spreading through the rest of his body, making him hiss. He didn’t have time for this bullshit; he had to reassure them he wasn’t blaming them for anything.
“Dad?”
“Birdie?”
“I must have slept in a weird position. I wanted to get ready… I don’t even know when I fell asleep,” Stolas panted, then he felt a pair of hands massage his back. It was gentle at first, but then Blitzø pressed his thumbs with all his might on the most painful spot, and the bird yelped.
“What are you doing?! You’re making it worse!” Via yelled at the imp, lifting to her knees, ready to push Blitzø off him, but Stolas felt a relief. The worst pain was gone, his body felt free again, so he collapsed on the mattress, feeling like he just had a really satisfying orgasm.
“I don’t know what you did, but it worked. Thank you, darling,” Stolas opened one eye to assess the situation. Blitzø was smirking proudly while Octavia stared at him as if he had just performed a really complicated spell.
“The fuck? What did you do?”
“Eh,” Blitzø scratched the back of his neck. “When you’re an assassin, you get into all kinds of injuries, strains, and pulls. You learn a thing or two over time.”
“Perhaps I should hire you as my personal massage therapist then,” Stolas giggled.
“You know I wouldn’t mind,” Blitzø purred, playfully, sticking out his tongue.
Stolas felt himself blush, realizing Blitzø was flirting with him, not because of the deal but because he wanted to, and it was a dream come true for the bird.
“Eww, things are getting gross. I guess it’s time for me to leave,” Via gagged, grounding Stolas in reality.
“No, no! You don’t have to leave! I’m sorry,” Stolas blushed as he finally got up from the bed. “I still want to answer your questions. I’m just gonna dress up really quickly,” he pointed toward his bathroom, already heading there.
“You will dress up, eat, and then you will do your talking!” Blitzø yelled from the bedroom in a voice that brooked no argument.
Stolas smiled under his breath, not avoiding his reflection in the mirror for the first time in months.
***
The scent of Stolas' favourite coffee filled his nostrils as he stared at the surface of the liquid, while Blitzø and Via nibbled on their portions of pancakes Blitzø had made, giving him time to prepare to finally speak.
It was so hard to start; there were so many words he could start with, but he wasn’t sure which ones would give him the best outcome. But Blitzø and Via stayed. He assured them earlier that he never meant to hurt them, so they shouldn’t leave him now, right?
So Stolas finally started, and once he did, the next words came more easily than the first ones. He began with his marriage to Stella, assuring Via hundreds of times that he had never regretted having her, grateful for Blitzø helping him placate the owlet when they felt the teen's emotions were bottling up.
Next, the owl explained how he saw his deal with Blitzø and their relationship, so Via would have a better picture of that too, minus sparing her the details about their fornifications. Blitzø took most of it calmly since they had already talked, but Stolas could still catch hints of guilt in Blitzø’s eyes, knowing how Stolas felt every time the imp rejected him. But he felt no anger anymore. Perhaps what happened was a wake-up call he needed.
Then, Stolas was finally done explaining, and he felt a weight leave his chest, letting him breathe more freely. Blitzø and Octavia took it much better than he had anticipated; everything was clear between them all now.
The sudden ringing of Blitzø’s phone made all three of them startle. Blitzø stepped aside to answer, leaving Stolas and Via on the sofa.
“Loonie? Hello, how are you?” Blitzø said, trying to sound casual and innocent.
“Blitzø?! Thank Satan you picked up!” Came the hellhound’s distressed and angry voice.
Stolas flinched at the volume while Loona’s voice tore through the apartment, loud enough to rattle the windows, yet beneath it, he caught the quiver in her words, the sharp edge of panic hidden beneath fury.
“Loonie, please, calm down, I’m not a-.”
“Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!”
Stolas’ chest tightened as the hellhound’s voice cracked again, louder this time, more desperate, almost matching Stella’s volumes. Stolas grimaced at the thought — and immediately dismissed it. Blitzø’s daughter was nothing like his ex-wife.
Her voice wasn’t filled with hatred, and Stolas realized how much Loona cared. Her anger was loud, yes, but he felt the fear behind it—he could hear it in the sharpness of her syllables, in the rush of her words, in the way Blitz flinched as if each one struck him.
“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when I return to our apartment stinking of booze and painkillers?! Blitzø, what the fuck were you trying to do?! I can still smell your sweat!”
Oh, dear. In all this ruckus, Stolas forgot about the mess they left in Blitzø’s home. He winced, imagining the scene she must have walked into at their place. Every frantic accusation made his heart squeeze; he knew the poor imp had been in danger, and now Loona had sensed it all.
Fearing how Blitzø would react to this, Stolas couldn’t help but admire how fiercely the hellhound cared, proving his earlier words true.
“Loona!” Blitzø composed himself enough to raise his voice. “It’s all fine now,” he added in a softer tone. “I’m with Stolas, gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be back, okay?”
There was a pause, heavy with hesitation, before Loona finally muttered, “Okay…”
Blitzø slipped his phone into his pocket, turning to face Stolas and Via with a sheepish, almost guilty expression.
“Shit, sorry you had to witness that. She is… she is not usually like… that.”
“It’s fine, Blitzø. I understand—”
“The fuck does she mean by booze and pills? Were you trying to get wasted and high? That’s why you are here? Because my dad had to take care of you?” Via leaned forward, claws gripping the sofa cushion as her feathers bristled.
The quiver in her voice mirrored Loona’s panic, and Stolas realized they were both trying to protect the ones they loved in different ways.
Blitzø curled in on himself, arms hugging his torso, tail coiling around him like a shield.
“Yeah, it was stupid, I'm sorry. It’s… It’s not gonna happen again.”
“It better not,” Via growled.
Her eyes narrowed at Blitzø, sharp and unrelenting, and Stolas could almost see the storm brewing behind them. He felt a pang of guilt—he had shielded her too much. Her anger was righteous, yes… but also fueled by fear.
“Via…” Stolas’ hand rested on her shoulder, grounding her. She turned her gaze to him, conflicted, but stayed silent.
He loved his daughter dearly, but he couldn’t let her berate Blitzø any further. Not for this — even if sober him hadn’t wanted it, the recklessness still came from somewhere.
“What now?”
“Darling… alcohol and pain meds together can be deadly for mortal hellborns.”
“Wha-what? In my books, there were some scenes like that, but I thought that it was just fiction, to add drama or whatever. But if it’s true, then why do it…?” Her voice trembled, showing just how unprepared she was for the world outside their palace.
Stolas frowned, realizing he sheltered his daughter so much that she was lacking the basic knowledge about life. He really fucked up as a father, didn’t he?
“I’ve failed as a father in ways I didn’t even see coming,” a bitter thought passed his mind.
“Stolas, please… It’s not worth it. Let’s just forget about it, please, birdie,” Blitzø whispered, voice almost breaking. “I don’t want pity. It was a dumb mistake. I wasn’t trying to off myself.”
“Maybe sober you didn’t, but… You were going through a lot… even drunk…”
“Wait, you aren’t talking about suicide, right…?”
Blitzø fell silent, avoiding Via’s gaze, and she froze, guilt and shock washing over her features in a way only Stolas could see.
“I promise, it wasn’t that. I promise I won’t drink like that ever again. Let’s just drop it, okay?” Blitzø’s words were soft, almost pleading. “I have to leave anyway,” but instead of heading to the door, he went toward Stolas’ bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Via. I’ll be back in a moment, alright?” Stolas gazed at his daughter, waiting for her answer.
“Sure, I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
Stolas nodded in acknowledgment before he followed Blitzø, who had already disappeared from his sight, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious about it.
He exhaled in relief when he found Blitzø perched on the balcony, ready to climb down. Despite his racing heart and lingering worry, Stolas, seeing the familiar scene, cracked a small, shaky smile.
“You know, you don’t have to do that anymore. You have the crystal now.”
“Yeah, fair.”
The avian’s faint smile faltered, then vanished completely as he knelt before the imp, eyes searching for reassurance, seeing in his mind what happened yesterday.
“Birdie… before you worry…” the assassin whispered, guessing Stolas’s thoughts. “Yeah, I drank a bit… but I didn’t touch any pills. Sober me didn’t plan to.”
“Do you promise you won’t do anything reckless?”
“I promise. And I promise I’ll be back before eight,” Blitzø reached out for Stolas’ hand to squeeze it tightly.
Stolas couldn’t help but lean, pressing his lips to the imp’s, sweet and beautiful, as if by holding him close, he could finally stop the world from spinning.
This felt like home. This felt safe.
He was unwilling to let his Blitzø go out of his sight, even if he was supposed to be with Loona, who would also keep an eye on him.
Blitzø returned the gesture, kissing him back tenderly, his hand went to cup Stolas’ cheek, and the owl moaned into the kiss. It was not like any other kiss they had shared before; it was so tender and loving that it made him feel as if he was finally home.
As they kissed, Stolas reached with his hand to rub the crystal. As their hands met over the artifact, its glow pulsed softly, light spilled across the balcony, and the portal bloomed open. The two lovers could see Loona staring curiously at it, and Stolas caught hints of relief in her eyes at seeing Blitzø safe and sound.
***
Stolas sat on the edge of his bed, hands clasped so tightly together that his fingers became stiff and ached.
It was twenty minutes after eight o’clock. Blitzø was late, and Stolas couldn’t help but feel impatient at first, which soon turned into a growing worry.
Blitzø was never punctual. As far as Stolas knew, his lover hated schedules. He probably got distracted and forgot the time entirely. Maybe he was just hanging out with Loona and didn’t look at the clock. But no matter how hard the prince tried to reason, his thoughts betrayed him easily, slipping into darker places he had no strength left to barricade.
What if Loona had to leave? What if Blitzø used this as an occasion to succeed in what he failed at before?
A sharp pain struck his chest, breath turning faster as the gory images forced themselves into Stolas’s mind: Blitzø alone in that cramped apartment, slumped on the chill, dirty floor, red skin pale, cold, and unmoving.
No sassy remarks. No smirk. No breath. No heartbeat.
Stolas pressed a shaky hand to his mouth, feeling like he was about to vomit his dinner.
“No,” he whispered to the empty room. “No, no, no…”
Those images were too real. It felt like he was there, unable to do anything, to try and save Blitzø, to try to bring back his heartbeat.
This was his fault. If only he hadn’t let Blitzø leave. He should have gone with him. He should have known better than to trust hope.
No, it was not only because of that. If only he hadn’t gone to that horrible party, full of vicious demons. If he had actually listened to what Blitzø had to say on the Full Moon, things might have been different.
He tried to recall Blitzø’s soothing promise before he left. His voice and words rang in his ears as if the imp was in the room with him, but it was to no use. He was too far gone into his spiral for such a memory to calm him.
Besides, for someone with depression, promises were a fragile thing. Too strong a wind of events could change them, break them, remove them from memory.
Stolas’ breathing grew shallow, uneven. His feathers stood on end, every muscle screaming at him to do something—but there was nothing he could do. There was no spell strong enough to pull someone back from a mistake already made. No crystal that could undo death.
It was getting worse; he was feeling overwhelmed, the room was too big, too silent. The silence roared louder than the loudest noise he had ever heard.
His mind kept throwing at him the worst images possible of Loona returning and finding Blitzø dead. Her mourning carved a hole in his heart, one that could never be filled.
Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he involuntarily dug his talons in the sides of his face, praying for this nightmare to end.
“Please, take it back. I’ll— I’ll do anything. Just… please.”
“DAD!” Octavia’s voice cut through the haze like a blade, grounding him back in reality.
Stolas gasped sharply, head snapping up as if his soul was yanked back into his body.
“Blitzø and Loona are here,” Octavia shouted.
For a split second, Stolas didn’t move. His heart hammered violently, disbelief flooding him so fast it left him dizzy. She said they were here.
His legs nearly gave out beneath him as he staggered to his feet, breath shaky, tears still clinging stubbornly to his lashes.
Blitzø was alive.
All of what he just endured was just his imagination, a second panic attack on the same day.
Impatient to see his beloved imp, Stolas composed himself as best he could to look as if he hadn’t just had another meltdown, thanking his past self for not putting on makeup today. He dried his tears with a smooth arm movement and ran his fingers through his crest feathers, putting them back in place.
Considering himself presentable enough, he rushed down the corridor to the living room from where Via’s voice came.
As Stolas appeared in their view, Blitzø’s voice followed almost immediately, casual and teasing.
“See? I told you I’d come back. Birdie, stop looking like you just saw a ghost.”
Stolas blushed like a teenager experiencing his first crush, which, to be fair, wasn’t that far from the truth.
Blitzø laughed softly at that, then said, “I brought backup,” pointing at his adopted daughter.
Stolas shifted his gaze from Blitzø to Loona, who stood behind her father, arms crossed, her eyes scanning Stolas, making him feel, for a moment, as if the world had shrunk to just that gaze, so fierce and so cautious all at once.
“Loona didn’t want to be left alone at the apartment tonight,” Blitzø began to explain. “She wanted to keep an eye on me.” The hellhound, furrowing her brows, pressed her ears to her skull, showing the lack of approbation at Blitzø’s honesty. “So are you cool with her crashing here tonight?”
“Of course,” Stolas said immediately. “She is more than welcome. Via, sweetie, could you show Loona the bedrooms so she may choose whichever one she prefers?”
“Sure, Dad,” Via nodded briskly, clearly excited to see Loona, as she already stepped aside to lead the hellhound out. But before she could get very far, Loona surprised everyone as she slowly walked forward and threw her arms around Stolas, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you… Thank you for saving him. If you hadn’t…” her voice broke slightly, her grip firm.
Stolas froze at the warmth of her embrace. He slowly brought his hands to return the gesture. The gratitude in her tone, the sincerity in her hold struck him in a way he hadn’t expected. All the fear, the worry, the sleepless hours—they all melted in a heartbeat under the weight of this simple, earnest act.
Stolas gazed over Loona’s shoulder to check on Octavia and Blitzø. While Octavia was staring at them, surprised, Blitzø’s tail wagged like crazy. Stolas could see literal white sparks in his eyes, and his pupils were so big that the yellow of the imp’s eyes was barely visible.
“You… you’re very welcome, Loona,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “I’m also happy I could help.”
After hearing those words, Loona let go of him quickly, blushing in embarrassment, as if she regretted showing off her positive emotions.
“Yeah, um... I guess I’m gonna go to see the bedrooms,” she uttered, turning to approach Octavia, who gave a little wave over her shoulder, inviting Loona to join her.
“Come on, this way!”
“We already ate, but there are leftovers in the fridge in case you're hungry!” Stolas informed Loona before she left. The girl didn’t stop, just showed him an “okay” gesture with her hand.
“Thanks, but I’m full. We ate before coming here.”
And with that, the two girls disappeared, leaving Stolas and Blitzø to themselves.
Silence fell over them both, and Stolas couldn't tell if it was consensual or slightly uncomfortable. He stared for a moment at the doorway their daughters had disappeared into, then sighed deeply and turned to Blitzø. Turning his gaze, he noticed the imp staring at him intently, perhaps since the moment they were left alone in the kitchen.
"You look like shit," Blitzø regaled him, red-yellow eyes not seeming very intelligent at the moment. A strange mixture of charm and irritation swirled in Stolas's gut.
"Charming as always, aren't you?" Stolas replied, narrowing his gaze.
"I mean..." the imp scratched his head. "You don't look well. Like you're about to collapse."
Another sigh left Stolas' beak, this time heavy and tired. Although he thought he looked reasonably presentable, he was proved to be wrong, it seemed.
“I just think too much,” the owl brought his hand to his face, which muffled his next words slightly. "Yes, I think too much."
“You're worrying.”
Fingers pressed against Stolas’ skin, digging in. He felt his cheeks go numb and his eyelids squeezed shut.
“I have to stop.”
“Definitely,” Blitzø approached, taking Stolas’ free hand. The imp's warmth seemed to soothe whatever was wrong with his body. “I'll help you. I mean, I'll try. May I?”
Those red-yellow eyes weren’t always wise, but they were undeniably charming. Especially now, as the need to care for him shone in them, and oh, how could Stolas refuse to drown in that tenderness? He was a weak man.
“Of course, my dear,” he accepted Blitz’s offer, cracking a weak smile and letting the imp lead him to his bedroom.
Stolas had no idea what they were at the moment. Boyfriends? Exes? Friends? Past lovers? Or maybe all those at once. But he quickly decided he didn’t care as soon as he saw his bed, just happy that Blitzø was with him.
Stripping himself naked, he dropped his clothes where he stood and flopped onto the bed with a relieved sigh. All he wanted to do was to go to sleep already, with Blitzø by his side, but there were still things he needed to talk about with his lover. And the sooner he got over it, the better.
Hearing the rustle of the sheets, the prince opened his eyes to see his beloved imp making himself comfortable next to him. Stolas couldn’t help but smile and shyly moved his hand to hold Blitzø’s, their fingers intertwined naturally, as if they’d been born to fit together.
Lucifer, Stolas wanted to talk. He loved words after all, but at this moment, he couldn’t think of how to start the conversation. Jumping straight to where they left off seemed wrong; he felt like he needed to start with something else, then make a soft transition. Sure, Blitzø said he didn’t plan to kill himself, but he still almost did it. It didn’t matter that he was drunk; it had to come from somewhere.
Stolas lazily traced small circles on the back of Blitzø’s hand with his thumb, the touch and warmth grounding him.
“Blitzø… I…” Stolas’ voice faltered as he swallowed hard, trying to steady the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m so happy you’re here. Safe and sound. I—”
Blitzø squeezed his hand gently, tilting his head toward him. “Hey… you don’t have to say anything, birdie. It's okay."
Stolas shook his head, taking a slow, shuddering breath. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday and at that party. About you, alone, making choices that could’ve—” his beak trembled slightly. “…that could’ve taken you away. And I… I should have done something. I should have felt it sooner. I’m sorry.”
Blitzø let out a soft chuckle, low and amused, though not mocking. “Don’t be sorry for the shit that I pulled off. You didn't force me to do it with your freaky magic or whatever,” he tried to joke, brushing a stray feather off Stolas’ crest. “But… yeah, I get it. I was reckless, okay? I screwed up. But nothing bad happened. I’m alright, I promise.”
“But it could have been, if I hadn’t followed my gut feeling, Loona would have found you when it was too late. I… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he admitted, voice breaking slightly.
“You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” Blitzø whispered, leaning in closer, brushing their foreheads together. And neither is Loona, by the looks of it,” he grinned faintly at the thought. “You’re stuck with us, birdie.”
Stolas let out a shaky laugh, pressing closer against Blitzø. “I like the sound of it. So does that mean… you actually want to date me?”
Blitzø blinked at him, a slow, teasing smirk forming on his face. “Oh, I think I’ve wanted to date you for a long time, birdie. I was just too full of shit to admit it… I’m… sorry it took me so long to… trust your intentions, I guess.”
“Let’s just forgive each other and move on?” Stolas half-whispered as he looked pleadingly at his impish lover. “I was full of shit, too. But I do want to be better. I don’t want to keep hurting Octavia and you. I almost lost you two because of that,” he pouted, ready to tear up again.
“Hey, shhh, don’t cry, please,” the assassin reached out to cup the prince’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over Stolas’s cheek.
“Do you promise you will attend therapy, just to be sure you won’t try again to…” Stolas's voice wavered. The weight of the events of past days still hung over him.
“If that’s what will keep you from spiraling, then yes. l... I will do it.”
Stokas clicked his beak, not liking the answer. He shifted slightly to look Blitzø directly in the eyes as he asked. “Don’t you want to do that for yourself, too?”
Blitzø whined, his spikes tensed before a verbal response followed. “I guess maybe I need a little bit of therapy…” he uttered, with visible struggle as if each word of this confession took from him parts of his strength.
A mix of relief and lingering fear overtook Stolas' senses as he slowly nodded, shifting closer to Blitzø and nuzzling into his chest. His beloved wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, letting the exhausted owl rest against him. The tensions slowly left the prince’s body. Blitzø’s hand stroking his head feathers was like a magic wand that, with one touch, made all of his worries disappear.
Stolas felt his boyfriend’s gaze on him, the warmth in those red-yellow eyes. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening.
“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Stolas asked shyly, worrying this request would be too much for Blitzø after all the emotional whiplash he endured in one day. He didn’t dare to look at Blitzø’s face, too afraid he would find in them refusal, that his imp would be done showing off his soft side and return to his brash facade.
Instead, the owl still felt a warm hand on his head and the imp smirked. Then Blitzø lowered his head, and as his breath brushed Stolas’s ear, he whispered. “You don’t have to ask, pretty bird. I want this too.”
The prince’s feathers ruffled up against his will as soon as the imp’s lips traveled from his ear to his cheek, placing soft kisses there until the imp reached his lips.
Their lips met in a slow, tentative, and sensual kiss. Stolas’s lips burned where Blitzø’s lips touched them. The prince’s heart fluttered as he felt his beloved’s hands stroking his cheeks.
The world around them blurred and faded, time stopped, nothing mattered but them and their bodies united in a loving kiss, which Blitzø slowly deepened, and his hands moved, one to rest on his back and the other gently tangled into Stolas’s crest feathers. The owl couldn’t help but moan into the kiss. He longed for this so much and enjoyed every second of it, not wanting this moment to ever end.
Testing the waters, slowly and carefully, Stolas pinned his beloved against the mattress, and Blitzø let him, only pausing for a second to allow them both to catch their breath before pulling Stolas into another kiss, this time hungrier and more passionate. Stolas leaned into it without hesitation, returning the kiss with equal hunger.
None of them planned this; Stolas got back to his senses as he felt Blitzø’s palms softly squeeze his butt. Realizing how carried away they got, Stolas freaked out internally, too afraid to fuck it up again, that it was probably too early for Blitzø, maybe for both of them. He wanted that, but he loved Blitz more than sex with him.
“Birdie? You okay?” A soft, concerned voice tore him away from his spiral. Looking at his lover’s face, Stolas found a worry in Blitzø’s gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no!” Stolas quickly assured him. “I just… Are you sure? I don’t want this to be another mistake.”
His boyfriend blinked at him. There was no facade in the way he looked at him. For once, Stolas saw in those eyes just pure honesty and love.
“Yeah, I want this. I want you. Do you want this…?”
“Yes, yes, of course I do!” Stolas, still towering over Blitzø, brought their faces together, giving his love a gentle nuzzle.
Blitzø smiled, the widest that Stolas had seen him smile in the recent days. "Then let’s take it slow.”
Stolas smiled back. “Yes, that sounds perfect, darling.”
The evening carried on as their bodies became one for one short moment of pure bliss after months of struggling.
As they laid, with Stolas nuzzled into his imp’s chest, a low rumble came from Blitzø’s throat; the sound of it and the vibrations made Stolas’s eyelids grow heavy. Unable to keep them open any longer, he let them close. As Blitzø kept purring, the owl’s breathing slowed, becoming deep and even, letting the sleep take over him, in what felt like an untroubled rest, free of any worries and anxieties for the first time in months.
Soon, the room grew quiet, except for the breathing of the two cuddled-up demons, sleeping peacefully with hearts full of hope for a better future together.