Stamp of Approval
As a witch who had lived for one thousand years, Beatrice had been accustomed to all sorts of courtship. Suitors from everywhere attempted to win her affection. Angels, devils, humans, they all flocked to her in hopes of a kiss. She had been fickle, teasing and tormenting them without really investing her time but their techniques sometimes intrigued her. While she had been given hundreds of bouquets and bottles of wine, others had charmed her with bombastic presentations such as cherubs singing for her or eviscerating a game board in her name in hopes of appealing to her roguish nature.
Rejection should have been her middle name. They had failed so spectacularly, as her eyes and heart remained with only one man. Every morning, he kissed her awake, and every evening, they engaged in types of play that would have made her teacher blush a violent scarlet. Their love was the past, present, and future. Guests who arrived at the Golden Land acknowledged that love was certainly everlasting, written in blood and ink across millions of pages. None would ever separate Beatrice from her beloved, just as the ring on her finger promised.
But although she belonged to Battler, her prior experience with gallants made her a rather striking figure among those in love. Whenever denizens of the Golden Land needed advice regarding their partners, they sought out her guidance. For Beatrice, it was a hobby to provide the plethora of lovers different opportunities to deepen their commitment, which she always did with a smile etched on her face.
When Mammon and Ange approached her, she sensed their apprehension. Her prior diatribes about furniture loving humans must have spurned them for a while. In secret, she had caught them in scandalous situations such as holding hands behind the arbor. Before they noticed her, she had whisked herself away in a flutter of golden butterflies and came up with an excuse when she reappeared nearby, such as searching for a book in the Golden Land's library when she came across them puckering up between the shelves.
Ange requested a private conference. The term confused Beatrice, but nonetheless, she agreed. In a snap of her fingers, she transported the trio to the smoking room. It was a neutral zone for all beings beyond the realm of humans. Beatrice settled into her familiar seat, the setting nostalgic as she recalled Battler's multitude of humiliating defeats before her magical power. When Ange took his spot, the resemblance she shared with her brother was undeniable. She wondered how Battler never fit the pieces together about his true heritage, but she pushed those thoughts aside when Ange moved over, allowing Mammon to sit next to her in the same chair. They were cramped together, Mammon making a provoking comment about the size of Ange's thighs, which earned her a huff in return.
Out of habit, Beatrice summoned her pipe. She weighed it on her palm, its familiar thinness and cold metal on her skin soothing to her. She set it to her lips and inhaled deeply, the smog filling her lungs, then exhaling in a gray stream.
"So," she began, setting her pipe in her lap, "why the need for secrecy?"
Ange fidgeted. She pulled the hem of her skirt. Mammon's hand rested on her shoulder, but as if she remembered Beatrice's presence, she jerked it back to her knees. They exchanged a glance, their mannerisms tempting Beatrice to smirk at them, but she wanted to savor their modesty. The behavior of young lovers before an experienced witch almost made her want to coo at them and call them hatchlings.
"We…wanted your blessing, Beatrice-sama," Mammon stated when Ange nodded at her.
She hummed. "Oh? For what?"
"For-" Ange cleared her throat. "For us as…well, I believe you know."
Beatrice's smile deepened. "Enlighten me, Ange. I don't have the foggiest idea what you mean."
Ange narrowed her eyes. "Yes, yes, you do. The number of times you just so happened to appear during our…" She bit down on her cheek. "...moments aren't coincidences."
Clicking her tongue, she rolled her shoulders back and crossed her legs. She let her foot dangle, bouncing it as if she was stomping on an invisible pedal to a bass drum. She rolled her pipe between her fingers, saying, "Well, you have a better understanding of this supposed situation. I'm merely here to listen and provide whatever I can to assist your quandary."
While Ange scowled, Mammon giggled. "Beatrice-sama has a point. You need to use more precision in your words, Ange-chan."
"'Chan?'" Beatrice interjected, and they gasped. She clutched her armrests and jerked forward, tossing aside her mask and pretenses. She relished in Mammon clapping her hand over her mouth, her face turning darker than her blazer. "Oh, Mammooon! I didn't realize you two deepened your connection to include honorifics like pet names! Hey, how many bases have you rounded? How many home runs have you scored?"
Mammon squirmed in her seat and held her rosy cheeks. She groaned, begging Beatrice not to tease her, who cackled at the top of her lungs. Beatrice had hoped they would have lasted a little longer. Playing up their shyness and mumbling their revelations would have been an amusing tale to bring home to Battler, but she supposed an early slip-up cut right to the heart of the flourishing romance that entertained Beatrice for countless weeks.
Ange crossed her arms, straightened her back, and locked eyes with Beatrice. They analyzed each other. Neither of them gave an inch. Even as Mammon tried soothing them over by offering to fetch them tea, the two brandished with the title of Golden Witch waited for the other to make the first move on the chessboard.
"Yeah, we're in a relationship. What was once a friendship and partnership has blossomed into something more," Ange said with firm conviction. She held out her hand, peering at Mammon out of the corner of her eye. Mammon immediately wrapped both of her hands around Ange's fingers and squeezed. She arched an eyebrow at Beatrice, asking, "Do you have a problem with that, Beato?"
Smirking, she tapped the rounded tip of her pipe to her cheek. "Assumptions are quite ugly, Ange. Haven't I been generous in letting the other sisters pursue relationships? Lucifer has been getting quite cozy with Chiester 410. Satan has been getting rather comfortable with Jessica and Kanon."
Ange wrinkled her nose, grumbling, "Well, this isn't about them."
Clearing her throat, Mammon took the initiative. "We only want your approval, Beatrice-sama, since you are my master, as well. Speaking of my sisters, Lucifer-onee-san and Satan-onee-san aren't even close to our stage. They're still walking on eggshells around their potential partners while I'm-" She latched on to Ange's arm and nuzzled her cheek to her face, flustering Ange out of her irritation. "-monopolizing Ange-chan!"
Beatrice chuckled. Young couples truly were best when they were ripe. With Mammon showing her cards, the game was in Beatrice's favor and would end with her next move.
All love was meant to exist in the Golden Land, with prominent exceptions that sent chills down her spine and reminded her of the pain she endured as a miserable human. But it seemed the status between Mammon and Ange provided a challenge that Beatrice needed to quell. One was created as furniture to serve their summoner. The other was her master and a witch of the future. In the past, Beatrice and Battler had blessed the couples with furniture, allowing them to cultivate the seed of their devotion.
They had come for that same approbation. Ange swallowed, and Mammon leaned into her. Beatrice teased a loose strand of curly blonde hair that fell by her ear. They followed her every gesture, such as which way her eyes flitted, and waited with bated breath.
Beatrice sighed and lowered her shoulders. "Ange, Mammon, you needn't ask. Of course, I permit you to love as freely as you want. In the Golden Land, everyone is equal. Furniture, humans, demons, witches, it doesn't matter. Love and never let each other go," she said, chuckling as Mammon threw her arms around Ange and clung to her, "and it seems you have the right idea. How greedy to take the first embrace, Mammon."
"You know me, Beatrice-sama! My greed is insurmountable!" she exclaimed, caressing Ange's cheek so hard with her own that she nearly knocked them out of their seat.
Beatrice snickered and brightened as an idea came to her. While Mammon distracted the squeaking Ange, she waved her pipe. Golden butterflies appeared out of thin air, then dispersed, revealing Battler's form. He seemed to have been in the middle of a conversation when Beatrice summoned him.
"Oh, no, Gohda-san, I think the roast should be-" Battler cut himself off. He took in his new surroundings before uttering a shriek at the sight of Mammon kissing all over Ange's face. "Wh-what the-? Hey, hey! What is this? My pure, innocent little sister! Being smothered in kisses before marriage!"
Ange balked. She went as white as a ghost. The color immediately returned when Beatrice howled. She grappled to get out of her seat to throttle Beatrice, but Mammon ceased her struggling by kissing her on the lips with an exaggerated hum. Ange melted and clung to Mammon's blazer, closing her eyes, and Beatrice gasped for breath to control her laughter.
When she recovered, she flashed her husband a wicked sneer. "Oh, hello, Battler! I brought you here just in time for the show! Aren't I generous?"
Battler raked his fingers through his hair, screaming. It was a wonderfully nostalgic sight for Beatrice, who wanted to lick the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Dammit! Mammon! You better make Ange an honest woman before you go any farther!" he cried, jabbing his finger at the stake.
Ange covered her face, her embarrassment palpable. Mammon hardly minded the intrusion and gleefully accepted Battler's order with a coquettish air. Beatrice was tempted to forge gold rings for them but decided to let the scene unfold when Battler dropped to his knees and clutched the armrest.
"Ange! As your older brother, I want you to be happy! And if being with a devious snake like Mammon is what you want, then I support you!" he exclaimed, and Ange demanded that he go back to discussing dinner plans with Gohda.
As tears fell from Battler's eyes and Mammon continued kissing Ange, Beatrice smoked without a care in the world while Ange's glare bore a hole through her. All in all, it was another eventful day in the life of the Golden and Endless Witch, Beatrice.