Octavia stood outside her dad's room, one hand poised to knock. She'd expected to see him at lunch but had seen only her mother as she hurried out the door. She hadn't even gotten a chance to say anything to her.

Shaking the thought away, Octavia knocked on the door and called, "Hey, Dad! Would you mind if I went out with a group of friends today?" She listened carefully for a response.

Waiting. Waiting, Octavia thought.

. . .

Still waiting.

Is he in the shower or something?

"Dad?" the princess repeated. Once again, there was no response, so she took it upon herself to timidly peek into his room. She could, of course, have just come in, but she was exceedingly wary about walking in on something she'd never be able to scrub from her eyes and brain.

The bedroom was unlit, the curtains drawn, and she noted immediately that there was no sound of running water. The bathroom light wasn't on either.

"Uh, Dad? You in here? Tamor told me you were," Octavia said. She stepped fully into the bedroom, her eyes glowing in the dark. While she had excellent night vision, she still preferred to not walk around in the dark, so she flicked the light on.

The room was a disaster; items were thrown off shelves and furniture was knocked over. It looked as if a tornado had blown through. Octavia took note of the chaos and also the feathers strewn all over the floor. She knew that they lost feathers quite frequently, especially if stressed, but she'd never seen so many laying about. Unnerved, the young demon picked her way across the torn apart chamber to the balcony. She pulled the curtains apart and came across who she was searching for. She swung the glass doors open and frowned.

"Um. Dad?"

Stolas, who was sitting on the floor, jumped, startled by the daughter he hadn't heard coming. He swiveled, his hands at his head as he swiftly attempted to smooth down the ruffled feathers there. His eyes were wide, and there were obvious tear stains running down his pale face.

"Octavia! I-I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," Stolas said. His voice was higher pitched and sounded almost frantic as he fought to compose himself. He stood quickly but faltered as his balance threatened to give. A thin hand snapped out to steady himself on the balcony railing. His robe had worked its way down his back, the shoulders hanging off his thin frame.

"Uh, that's okay," Octavia said slowly. Her pink eyes were narrowed as she inspected the demon before her. "Are you . . . good?"

"H-huh? Oh, yes, I'm, I'm fine!" Stolas waved a hand in a gesture meant to take the attention off him. "Did you need something, my owlet?"

Octavia didn't respond. She simply looked her dad over skeptically. Stolas stood there nervously, his talons tapping a rhythm on the railing.

"Do you think I'm stupid or something?" Octavia finally asked. Stolas floundered at the question, his jaw working as he fumbled for a response.

"O-of course not! I'd never! I'm just, well—"

"Then tell me the truth? Because despite the fact I asked, I can see you're not 'good' right now. I did, you know, walk through your destroyed room to get here." Octavia crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Stolas deflated visibly, his shoulders sagging and head drooping. His whole body seemed to lose what little shine it did have; even his feathers appeared to lose their airiness and became heavy on his person.

"I'm sorry. I've had a rough night," Stolas admitted.

"I didn't hear any screaming last night," Octavia said.

". . . It didn't concern your mother." Stolas avoided eye contact and folded his arms across his chest, grabbing his biceps to hug himself.

Octavia sighed softly; she knew exactly who could have achieved this reaction.

Blitzo wasn't exactly her favorite demon in Hell. There was no way he could possibly even be in her top ten, but . . . she'd noticed how happy her dad had been the past few months. Stolas had always been much more charming and energetic than her mother (more loving, too), but there'd been something wrong. Not explicitly, per se, but it was obvious whenever he met someone new. And with Blitzo, it hadn't been just a few weeks-long tryst of Stolas sneaking someone in. This had evolved into months, and no other consort had ever made it even close to that amount of time. She'd never known her father to invite one along with family or let said lover sneak around the palace as they wished. He'd never been so actively engaged in an affair.

There was—however much Octavia wished there wasn't—something more intimate and special about her dad and Blitzo's relationship. And damnit, she knew he did his best to make her happy, and she, too, wished for his happiness. Even if that meant allowing someone in that she didn't personally like. Well, she didn't hate Blitzo, but a part of her was bitter at him for his role—albeit unintentional—in her parents' marriage unraveling.

"Did something happen with Blitzo?" Octavia asked, voice gentler this time around.

Stolas nodded, his eyes rapidly filling with tears. He brought a hand to his face in order to try and hide his distress from his child. He didn't want her to see him so distraught over someone that wasn't her mother. The whole situation, he knew, was unfair to his poor Octavia, who only wanted her parents to love each other.

"I-I'm sorry, Via, you sh-shouldn't have to see me like this—" Stolas cut himself off and drew an arm across his face to wipe the tears away. He fought with himself to get his emotions under control. When he finally managed to halt the flow of tears and compose himself, he sniffed and straightened up. "You shouldn't have to worry about me. Please, dear, you needed something, yes? Ask away."

Octavia hesitated. It felt wrong it ask for something when her dad was so upset. As the child, it wasn't her job to take care of him, she knew. But what kid didn't want their parents to be happy?

"Octavia? Do not worry your little head about me; it's not your job," Stolas said as if reading her mind. His voice was frail with emotion, but he was no longer crying.

"I . . . was wondering if I could hang out with some friends today," she finally admitted. "But—"

"Of course! Of course, you may. Please, go have fun. Don't worry about your old man; I'll be fine. Do you need money? I'll get you some." Stolas tugged his robe over his shoulders, regaining somewhat of a sense of modesty, and hurried back inside. Octavia followed him slowly, the gears in her head turning. She watched him navigate the mess in his room and return to her with several folded bills in his hand.

"Here you are, my dear," Stolas said. He handed them to her. "Have fun. And remember to call me if you need anything." He smiled at her, but it was obviously strained.

"Uh, thanks, Dad. I'll . . . see you later, then. Bye," Octavia said. She hesitated at the door to his bedroom, looking at him from the corner of her eye. Stolas gave her a tiny wave. Finally, she left with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Stolas collapsed onto his bed the second Octavia was out the door. God, it was so humiliating to have had her find him like that.

She deals with enough of the fighting, and now she must deal with me crying over Blitzo? Dammit! This is just pathetic, Stolas thought. He put his head in his hands and sighed, on the verge of tears again. He didn't want to think about Blitzo because it hurt, but that was all his mind kept going to.

Last night, after Blitzo had left, Stolas had cried in the garden for at least an hour. If it sounded pitiful, who fucking cared? No one was there to see him besides the plants around him and the stars above. He'd curled up on the blanket that was still warm from Blitzo's body heat and wept into his arms.

He'd mentally berated himself the entire time. He'd thought of every single thing he ever could have done or did do wrong in their relationship and hated himself for them. He had not been kind to his heart last night because he did not deserve it. For how could it have been Blitzo's fault? The imp was not perfect, of course, but neither was Stolas, and what the prince did have was more sway in their relations.

Fuck, he'd ruined his one chance at love. Everything seemed hopeless now. Did he seem like an angst-ridden teenager sobbing over a short term boyfriend? Yes, maybe, but was that not what he was?

Stolas had spent his entire life so far without romance or intimate love. He had the illusion of a loving wife, but that was it. Their marriage was a sham, a farce, little more than a power grab by their parents. That was how it worked with Hell's royalty. Most of it, anyway.

For most his adulthood, married and not, he'd spent hours thinking of all the things he'd do with a partner. He thought his love life would be like that of Lucifer and Lilith's: mutual respect and care; a deep emotional relationship that helped foster a family.

Well, he had the family part. That was very expected, an heir. And Stolas loved her more than anything. But he wished he could have someone to share a romantic lifetime with that was not just an uptight classist. Stella was . . . difficult, to say the least, and though he cared about her well-being, he did not love her. He had never; she had never loved him, either. He'd tried, when they first met, when he was young and naïve, to flower a love between them. It had failed. Stella had clearly been more interested in various other misters from the get-go.

More manly, masculine misters. Ones that did not frolic about in a robe and want to wear lacy underwear for their partners.

Misters who did not want to get pinned to the bed and fucked until they couldn't walk.

And Stolas' general apathy for caring about Hell's classes when taking a consort was frowned upon. Stella thought imps were dirt beneath their feet. Stolas obviously thought different. Whomever struck his fancy was typically taken to bed, whether it be an imp or an Overlord.

Overlords, however, tended to be extremely poor partners for anything besides the bedroom (he knew that from experience).

So, truly, did he have any idea what it was like to love someone? He'd thought, just maybe, he could do it. Evidently, that was false, and he'd made perhaps every faux pas one could while dating. He really was like an inexperienced teenager fawning over a crush. And it had gotten him crushed in return.

After his solo in the garden, he'd eventually made his slow and weary way back to his room. He was glad that it was just his room these days. Despite the fact he was lonely, he did not want to walk into a place where he would be shamed by his wife.

The overwhelming amount of negative emotions and self-loathing Stolas had been feeling had led to him acting out. While he'd stood in the center of his room, mind loud with maddening thoughts, he'd screamed in anguish. His magic, typically under control, had lashed out and sent a shockwave of energy around the room. That was why he was currently occupying what seemed like a war zone.

How do I fix this? Stolas asked internally. Is it even possible? For all I know, I've ruined it for good.

Stolas' eyes blurred as he came once more across the realization that he might never see Blitzo again. Well, in the way that he wanted, anyway. If they did see each other, it would most likely be strictly business.

Stolas didn't think he could handle not having a romantic relationship with Blitzo after everything.

Dejected, the prince willed the lights off and pulled himself fully into his bed. He hadn't slept yet, having been so stricken last night. Now, he simply wanted the respite that came from unconsciousness. Stolas drew the covers over his head and wished to disappear.

"Have you seen my dad up?"

The well-dressed imp stopped in his tracks at the sound of the princess' voice. He turned on his heel to look at her, dipped his head, and responded, "No, Your Highness. His Majesty has not been out of his room in two days."

"Do you know if he's well?"

"His Majesty seems to be distraught about something."

"No, I mean, is he eating and, like, bathing and stuff?"

"He has had no meals requested since the night before he sequestered himself. Likewise, no cleaning staff have been into his room. But I cannot say I have seen the appearance of His Majesty to tell you if he is grooming."

Octavia withered at the news and sighed. "Alright. Thanks, Tamor." She tossed him a packet of candy she'd taken from her pocket. Tamor caught the snack eagerly and bowed at the waist, giving her a smile.

"Thank you, Your Highness." With that, he turned and scurried down the hall.

Octavia continued on her way to her room. She'd given her dad space, knowing she could do little to help him with whatever it was that had happened between him and Blitzo. She wasn't great at talking to her dad all the time, she could admit.

But she had to do something. She couldn't just allow him to wither away in his chambers! Yes, he was a grown demon, but it was obvious from the last time they'd spoken about emotions that he had just as little a clue as she did.

What a hot mess their family was.

Octavia pulled out her phone as she sat down at her desk, back in her room. Swiping through messages, she found the conversation she was searching for and sent a sharp:

What did your stupid dad do to mine?!

"I thought Loona told you to take a backseat today, Sir," Moxxie said with a slight growl to his voice. They were crouched behind a copse of lilac bushes that lined the outside of the trailer park they were about to infiltrate.

"Loona worries too much; I told you guys I'm fucking fine," Blitzo insisted.

Moxxie narrowed his eyes at his boss. When he'd heard from their resident hellhound that Blitzo fully intended to return to work the day after he'd gotten himself completely fucked up and incapacitated, the smaller imp had nearly had a panic attack. He and Millie had waited at the door to I.M.P and jumped their boss as soon as he walked through the door.

Despite Millie and Moxxie's hounding, Blitzo had told them close to nothing. Loona had told them a handful of information, but she'd left out quite a few details of what had happened; whether because of respect for Blitzo's privacy or her own ignorance. To put it mildly, it drove Moxxie up the wall, but he couldn't force his boss to do anything.

Blitzo insisted they pick up where they'd left off and go on the hunt they'd missed yesterday. Because none of them were about to change Blitzo's mind, Loona had instead asked him to take it easy. He was still battered and bruised from his bar brawling. Why he insisted upon a job in his condition, Moxxie didn't understand. But it was obvious from even an outside perspective that Blitzo was unwell, both physically and mentally, and was not going to practice any form of self preservation.

"She was quite certain you'd broken a rib, and it's not wise to go gallivanting about w—"

"Shut the fuck up, Moxxie! I'm going," Blitzo snapped before he bolted from their hiding spot.

Moxxie swore, "Shit!" and took off running after his boss, Millie on his heels. "Sir, please stick to the plan-!"

Breathing hard, the three imps finally came to a stop a trailer down from the one they were after and hid behind a shed.

"Don't just take off like that, Sir. We need to scope out the place first," Moxxie said.

"Yeah, remember the client said this guy is some paranoid wackadoo," Millie added. "He knows there are people after him for revenge."

"Which means he might have traps or guns, and we need to carefully—"

Blitzo was gone before Moxxie could finish.

Millie wasted no time and grabbed her husband by the hand. She tugged him along and together they raced again after their boss. Blitzo was a few feet ahead of them, heading toward the front door of the trailer.

A huge mistake. They never went through main entrances; what the fuck was Blitzo doing?!

The tall imp didn't even get to the door when he suddenly jerked forward. A scream of pain rebounded across the overgrown yard, scaring a murder of crows in a nearby tree.

"Oh, crumbs!"

Millie and Moxxie were quick to duck for cover when the trailer home's door was flung open, slamming against the outside wall with a loud bang. The front yard was flooded with light from the inside. A tall, scraggly looking man stood in the doorway, a tinfoil hat on his head and a shotgun in his hands.

"Fucking knew they were after me!" the man shouted. He sounded and looked absolutely manic as he pointed the barrel of his shotgun right where Blitzo lay prone with a steel bear trap biting gruesomely onto one of his legs. A look of fear lanced across the vulnerable imp's face; his gun had went flying out of his hands with the shock of his leg being chomped on.

"Fucking aliens! Government 'bout to lose one!" the deranged man continued. "Sendin' you back to Area 51, bitch!"

Moxxie wasn't about to let this motherfucker shoot his boss. He whipped out his sniper rifle from where it was strapped to his back and took aim.

Blitzo flinched as Moxxie's gun went off but sagged in relief when he realized he wasn't the one with a bullet through his skull.

"Sir! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Moxxie screeched. He and Millie scrambled from their hiding place, concern etched across their faces despite the anger he was now feeling. The couple approached the downed Blitzo, Millie reaching for the bear trap's jaws to rip it open.

"I-I'm fine, it's not as bad as it looks," Blitzo replied with a shaky voice. His eyes were wide, and he seemed pale. Millie broke the trap in two, and Moxxie grabbed Blitzo under his armpits and dragged him away from the busted snare. He laid him down on his side and moved to inspect the wound while Millie stepped away to call Loona.

"With all due respect, Sir, shut up," Moxxie ordered. Strangely enough, Blitzo did just that as his employee tugged his boot off and tore his pants open with his claws. On the outside, Moxxie was calm and collected, but internally, he was quaking with anger. He knew it'd been a shit idea to come on this hunt after everything, but he hadn't had much say in the matter.

The wound on Blitzo's calf was jagged and deep, each passing second sending more pitch blood dripping onto the yellowing grass. Where each metal fang had grabbed ahold was visible. It had really done a number on him.

"Millie, is Loona ready for us?" Moxxie asked as he tied a torn shred of Blitzo's pants around the wound as a makeshift bandage. The motion earned a quiet gasp of pain (that was easily ignored by the still pissed imp).

"Yup. Any second now," Millie responded. As if on cue, a portal opened near them. Moxxie turned his attention back to Blitzo.

"Can you stand, Sir?"

Blitzo nodded shakily, still not talking. He was visibly trembling as Moxxie helped him stand with an arm wrapped around his torso. Millie moved to assist on Blitzo's other side, and then the three hobbled to the portal.

Upon entering, Loona was a furry ball of anger and concern. Her hair was standing on end, her ears pricked and alert.

"What the fuck, Blitzo?!" the hellhound raged. Millie and Moxxie deposited their boss in a nearby chair. "Fuck, I knew letting you go was a bad idea!" She scrubbed her hands across her face in frustration.

"I'm fine, Loonie, really," Blitzo said. His voice was hoarse and edged with pain.

"You're fucking not! Ugh!" Loona stormed off, apparently too upset to handle the situation any longer.

Millie and Moxxie glanced at each other.

"Hospital, then?" the latter suggested. Millie nodded and flashed the van keys.

"I'll pull around. You got him, Honey?" she asked.

"Yeah, I've got it. We'll meet you downstairs."

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Loona had thrown herself onto the nearest bench as soon as she'd left the building. Well, not before pushing some loser into oncoming traffic.

She was furious; why was Blitzo doing this shit?! In three days, he'd managed to get himself fucked up more than once. After she'd gotten that call from Millie, she'd seen red. That dumb little fucker was on some sort of suicide mission!

Over some guy!

. . . What about me? The thought came unbidden into her head. She quickly shook it away, snarling at thin air, and instead focused on her phone. Her tail lashed behind her, still fluffed up. Anybody passing on the sidewalk gave her a wide berth.

Loona was about to watch some random viral video to take her mind off things when a text alert popped up at the top of her screen. Immediately, her rage boiled over. She swiped into her contacts and hit 'call.'

"Uh, hello?"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY MY DAD 'DID SOMETHING WRONG'?!"