A Den


"Oh god, oh god, oh nooo…"

"Master, I advise that you cease pacing at once. You will dull the marble."

Butch listened to his manservant for all of a second before going right back to pacing at the front door, biting his thumb nail. "It's so late, Vass. Where is she? Why hasn't she shown up yet? Do you think something happened to her?"

"I doubt Princess Buttercup encountered any issues she could not handle."

"But what if she did? What if she's out there trapped by lava?"

"Then she will likely perish, Master." Butch's eyes widened drastically. "The Elven ship docked, all of her belongings and gifts are here, so it is logical to assume that she is on Hestus," the Demon reassured.

"But she's not here, Vass!" He pressed his face against a window to gaze outside. "Where are you, Princess?" he said in a pitiful tone. "Are you in danger? Must I become your knight in shining armor?" Vassago sighed internally, externally, eternally. "That's it!" Butch declared, "I'm going to look for her! Keep the rum out, won't you?" The dignified Demon bowed his head. Butch's terminus deposited him at the parade grounds in the middle of the capital. "Buttercup!" he called, "Buttercup, where are you?!"

"Hey!" Some Demon slammed their window open to yell at him. "We're trying to sleep, you royal asshole!"

"Did you see an Elf woman today?" Butch shouted back. "Black hair, green eyes, tall, hot as fuck?"

"Yeah, I saw an Elf like that…" the Demon snarked, "on her knees sucking my cock! Now shut the fuck up and let us sleep!"

Butch scowled in the direction of the window. He was going to throw that guy into the Void tomorrow, but the more pertinent matter was finding his wife; he should probably get a better vantage point than the ground. He made a beeline for Brick's terminus and was surprised to catch his brother exiting the kitchen with a bottle of wine in hand, freezing mid-swig. "Hey," Butch greeted, "didn't think you'd be up."

"Didn't think I would be either, but here we are." Brick was doing his fumarole thing again, clearly pissed about something. He fixated Butch with a glare. "What the fuck are you doing coming into my home after midnight?"

"Looking for Buttercup," he answered. "Can I use your telescope?"

"No, you can't use my fucking telescope." He was aghast that Butch even thought that made sense. "She's not in the sky, you moron."

"Well, I need a high point to look for her."

"Use the widow walk," his brother suggested, exasperated.

"Great idea, thanks." Brick watched him wander off with fire in his eyes. First Blossom dared to sass him in his own bed, and now this? Some changes had to be made, and soon. Brick needed to remind people to fear and respect him.

Butch climbed the archive stairs and walked outside into a breeze. From the little balcony one could see every island of Hael. He removed a spyglass from its stand and panned around with no particular methodology until spotting a figure trudging across the sandbar from the royal hunting grounds. They had a stag slung over their shoulder, pretty ballsy of them since Lucifer established the grounds for himself. Butch caught a glint of metal beneath the moonlight and holy shit that was a nice bow, how had he not seen that for sale before? Who was the bowyer and could they make another one?

The figure continued toward Harbor Island and as they came into greater detail, Butch thought they had a rather feminine figure. He couldn't tell if there were breasts under the bloodstained tunic, though. They walked kind of like a woman, swinging their hips a little. But, hmm, dark hair in a low bun… could still go either way. Butch observed them until the suspension bridge where they paused to brush some flyaways out of their face and good gods it was Buttercup. He bolted for the front door and was back outside before Brick could yell at him for making a racket.

They met at a refinery, Butch gasping for air while Buttercup stood there like nothing about the situation was unusual in the slightest. "Where…" he wheezed, receiving a wake-up call that he needed to start doing cardio again. "Where have you been?"

"Hunting," she answered. "You eat venison, yes?"

"You can't just… go to the forest and… shoot my dad's deer!" He took a few deep breaths, his heart rate slowing. "I mean, if you've been here since this morning… why didn't you follow the porters to my place?"

Buttercup blinked once. "I accompanied Blossom and Bubbles on an excursion. I also bought this bow."

"It looks awesome," Butch gushed. "Can I see?" She surrendered it for inspection and he groaned while drawing the string, squinting at a gear. "Jeez, you have this thing on six stone? Were you trying to shoot the moon?"

"That is the ideal weight for a lethal and humane shot."

"For killing a huldra, maybe."

Her brow furrowed. "My technique has been perfected over two centuries. Do not critique me unless you can do better."

Butch held up his hands. "I wasn't! It's just… an impressive draw weight." Not for a woman, but for anyone.

"If you were so concerned with my whereabouts, why did you not meet me at the docks this morning?" Not that she cared, it just would've been nice to see him anticipating her arrival since he was supposedly so smitten.

"I wanted to, but Vass made me help him clean so it wouldn't look like I've been living that bachelor lifestyle," Butch replied. "I kept freaking out that you'd show up before we got done. But the porters finished dropping off your stuff, and I waited, and I had drinks ready, but it got dark and you still didn't show, and I kept waiting, and then it was midnight, so I went out to search for you…"

Buttercup was unfazed by his rambling. "I am here now."

Butch gave her a curious look, laughed once, and shook his head. "Yeah, you're here now carrying a big-ass buck. Let's go eat that thing." They walked side by side toward the parade ground terminus. "Sooo…" Butch drawled, "you're over two-hundred years old, huh?"

"Two-hundred and fifteen," Buttercup specified. "I was born before the Great War."

"Damn, you really are my old lady!" Butch laughed at his own joke. "Kidding, of course. But seriously, I like older women. You're so mature and confident. It's sexy."

Electing not to acknowledge that compliment, Buttercup asked, "Who is Vass?"

"Vassago Gaspar is my head house Demon. He's in charge of the servants." She hummed. Although she was royalty, Elves had a do-it-yourself attitude and didn't rely on help for much of anything. "Alright, we're here," Butch said, coming to a halt.

"Where…?" she started to ask, but then experienced the unpleasant dissolving sensation that came with teleportation. The terminus deposited them in a vestibule that made her pupils painfully constrict, white marble and golden décor assaulting her sensitive eyes from every direction. Buttercup dropped her bow to shield them.

"Oh, shit. Vass, kill the lights!" The foyer was immediately bathed in darkness. Buttercup lowered her arm only to be captivated by a tiny green flame that sparked to life in Butch's palm. "That better?" he inquired.

"What… is that?"

"This?" He waved it around and her pupils dilated even more. "Just hellfire."

She reached for it with cautious fingers. "Why does it not burn?"

"Because hellfire is spiritual, not elemental." Butch used it to light the sconces on the way to the kitchen. "Come on, that deer's not gonna eat itself. Vass, get out the knives!"

"Sharpened and ready, Master." Buttercup faltered when she saw Vassago looming in the darkness like a ghoul. He had taut features and silver eyes that reflected light like her own, but then perfectly-coiffed brown hair and a haughty demeanor. "Set your kill here on the counter if you would, Mistress," he said.

"Mistress?" she repeated.

Butch grinned at her. "You're the lady of the house now. That means you can boss everyone around." Even him. Especially him.

Vassago curled his lip at Buttercup's blood-soaked tunic. "I insist you clean up before dining with the Master."

He raised an eyebrow. "I dunno, she looks pretty good covered in viscera…"

"Master, please. The scent will provoke the trows."

"Point." Butch grabbed Buttercup's hand and gave it a gentle tug for her to follow. "I'll show you to the bath." She memorized the length, width, and placement of each corridor he led her down. A set of steps ended at a low-hanging cavern in which Buttercup smelled mineral water. Butch cast the green flame from his palm and she watched, mystified, as it illuminated a dozen small candles floating on the surface of a bubbling hot spring. "There we go. What do you think?"

"I did not see any hot springs around Hestus," she remarked.

"That's because we're not on Hestus," Butch explained with a smile, "we're on the island south of Hestus, Isla Sabas. I wanted to build my villa here to avoid Brick and Boomer's turf war." Buttercup pulled her tunic over her head, then dropped her pants without a care as to how Butch would react. He exuded an appreciative noise while she got in the water, wading until it reached her chest. "There are some oils in the bottles there…" he told her distractedly, "and pumice stones and a… a loofah somewhere."

The striking contrast of crimson against her snow-white skin and jet black hair gave him some lascivious notions just then. Forget their late-night meal, he could get in there with her and push her up against the rocks… But no, the bed was much more comfortable. Butch busied himself by fetching a robe for Buttercup, then lingered by the entrance until she finished washing, holding up the pewter garment for her to slip into. The color was perfect on her.

Vassago had gutted and skinned the deer by the time they returned to the kitchen, throwing a large slab of meat on a grate over an open flame. "You gave the offal to the trows?" Butch queried.

"Yes, Master."

"Good." He was pleased that Buttercup sat next to him at the table instead of across. Butch wrapped an arm around her waist, fiddling with some folds in the fabric.

Her head swiveled toward him. "When you say 'trow', do you mean water goblin?"

"That's what Elves call them, isn't it?" he returned.

"Yes, but they are ornery little creatures. Why do they serve you?"

"Because I'm a Demon lord," Butch said, "and I'll kill any of them that don't do as I say. They learned that pretty early on."

"Where do you keep them?" Surely not in the house since trows were aquatic.

"They stay in a grotto beneath the villa. Their night vision is shit so they'd just be running into walls and each other if we summoned them now. Besides, Vass doesn't need any help cooking. You're going to eat some, too, right?" The Demon grunted in confirmation. "I don't think there's enough room in the cold case for that whole deer."

"Shall I give some to your brothers, Master?" Vassago suggested.

Butch scoffed. "No way. Those lazy fucks can go get their own."

"Lazy?" Buttercup tilted her head.

"Yeah! My job is way harder than theirs! I only manage the finances for the entire kingdom!" He sighed. "Speaking of which, I have to go to work tomorrow since I got today off. Will you be okay by yourself for a while?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. Most of her life had been spent alone in the wilderness aside from joining hunting parties or celebrating holidays with her father. Solitude had been her companion for the better part of her long life. She was trying to give this married-couple thing a shot, but she liked her space. And in case Butch turned out to be the reason why her mentor had perished, she was going to end up alone once more, anyway. Best not to get too attached.

Butch groaned upon taking a big bite of the venison steak. "This is so good. Can't believe my dad's been hoarding meat like this all my life!"

"I can provide you with more," Buttercup offered.

He shook his head. "Wouldn't want Lucifer to catch you. If he does then he'll punish you, and I'll have to duel him for your honor, and I suck at dueling so I'd lose and that would be embarrassing, so just… stay out of the forest, please."

But forests were her natural habitat. Asking her not to stalk prey among trees was like asking her not to be an Elf. "I must have a challenge."

Butch studied her for a moment. He knew what she was trying to say by observing her microexpressions. "Have you ever tried bow fishing?" he broached.

"I have not."

He nodded, decisive. "Vass, show her around the island tomorrow. And depending on what you catch, you can sell it in town for extra carats. Or we can just eat it, I guess." Shit, he was going to get fat off all the food Buttercup brought home. Why did she have to be such a good breadwinner? "Oh, can we get that rum now?" Vassago wordlessly served two small glasses and Butch angled one toward his wife. "To you," he said.

"To… me?" Buttercup had never been personally toasted before.

"Yeah. Welcome home." They knocked back their drinks together, Butch smacking his lips as the warm, sweet liquid coated his throat. "Damn, that's good. Can't believe your dad sent a whole barrel of this stuff." Buttercup couldn't believe it, either. Elven newlyweds were encouraged to drink rum in hopes that amorous feelings would arise and they'd start making babies sooner rather than later. She did not accept a refill when Vassago offered.

Buttercup was stunned that Butch deigned to wash the dishes; he was turning out to be unlike any prince she'd heard of. He didn't even start feeling her up when they finally made it into bed. It was airy, situated in the center of the room and covered by a gauze canopy, with white linens and mismatched ocean-hued pillows. The light and downy comforter puffed up around her. She stared as Butch removed his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. Then he thought better of it, transferring them to a laundry basket. "Definitely need to work on my single habits," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Buttercup barely heard him, too busy studying his large and defined muscles. He had filled out his clothes well, but she didn't think there'd be such a buff body under them. "You sleep in the nude?"

"Oh, do you not want me to? It is weird? I can put something back on."

She shook her head once. "Shall I as well?" Elves typically didn't sleep naked since their kingdom was so cold. But Hael had a tropical climate, so the night was plenty warm enough.

"You do you, milady." Butch closed his eyes to get comfortable but then cracked one open as he heard the robe fall away from her body, pooling beside the bed. His gorgeous wife eased in beside him, radiating uncertainty. "What're you nervous about?" It seemed that by asking direct questions he received direct answers.

"It is our first night together…" Buttercup said slowly. "Do you not wish to consummate our union?"

Butch smirked a little. "Wanna know a secret? Demons don't do the consummation thing." She looked genuinely surprised. "We don't fuck to claim people as property, we do it 'cause it feels good. I know I'm tired, and I'm pretty sure you're tired, so it can wait until we have more energy." Buttercup considered this for a second before relaxing. "Do Elves cuddle?" he then wondered.

"No… but you are not an Elf." He took that as an invitation to press up against her back, once more draping an arm over her waist. He wasn't even touching her in a sensual manner, yet her pulse quickened. How was it possible for a Demon to be so soft? Butch kept shattering her preconceived notions and now she didn't know what to think of him.

He nuzzled the nape of her neck. "G'night, Princess. Feel free to shove me off if I get too hot." He paused. "Or horny."

She might not mind if he got aroused; lying with him like this was already one of the most intimate things she'd ever done. The newness of it all made her lightheaded. "Sleep well, my Prince," she replied in kind.