Right. So… firing them up. Alone. That was to be her job for the day.

Eh.

There were worse assignments in the world.

The curves of Leviathan's hands twitched inside his pockets. It was what she'd expected, of course, but still, Freya knew that he would take some consoling before allowing her anywhere too close.

As if in synchronization with her thoughts, his face twisted, the grimace echoing his physical discomfort while Freya's gaze locked in on his.

"It's just," he mumbled, "This kind of thing's really embarrassing for me."

Difficult he may be at times, she couldn't stop the smirk crawling onto her mouth.

Levi blanched. Blush rapidly began pooling in his cheeks. "Um! Not that I was hoping for any dating-sim-like developments or anything!"

"Of course not," Freya retorted, tone thick with scorn. She crossed her arms, completely unimpressed, and his eyes bulged in place. The amusement nearly reverberated off of her in pulses. "How silly that would be, huh?"

His agony was endearing, but Levi'd been right. This – warming up the respective demons – in public would be a terrible idea. The end of everything, in fact. The entire apocalypse, tipped over by a band of idiots who would single-handedly decimate RAD and the entire school campus and probably even the Devildom amidst their temper tantrums.

Freya stifled a sigh. So much work to do. So little time. So little energy.

He stiffened at the sudden change in posture. "I'd be perfectly happy if you could just say something inspiring!" he sputtered at once.

The cerulean brilliance of his room seeped into his skin, highlighting the ivory hue in its ethereal glow. He looked like a mer-prince, the thick locks of his azure hair scattered about the angles of his face.

He was handsome. And ridiculous. And a little exhausting.

The long exhale once restrained now poured forth, and Freya stepped forward, disregarding the way he abruptly stiffened. She stepped onto her toes and tilted her jaw at just the right angle.

Their lips touched briefly. Although Levi's instinct was to freeze, there was an eventual deepening of pressure as he tentatively leaned into the kiss. It was a sweet gesture and gentle, and Freya inhibited her usual intensity she'd favor with a sentiment that was much more delicate. He was a doe-eyed softy, and she would oblige that fact.

When she extracted herself, Levi inevitably floundered, covering his face in panic. Freya, remaining patient, was content to wait until the otaku could bring himself to look at her once more.

"I feel, like…" he stammered, one hand still obscuring the lower half of his visage, "Really warm?"

"Well, I would hope so," she replied. "I'm trying to keep you alive. Not give you a heart attack." She kneaded a hand through her long, raven hair, flicking a few, stray locks of it behind her shoulders.

Levi's face smoothed out. "This just proves that you'll be able to warm up the others too." He grinned, and now his hands twitched not with anxiety but anticipation. The enthusiasm was novel and good for him, and very much appreciated.

He raised a fist in the air, saluting a general before they scampered off to war. "Go on, Freya!" he exclaimed. "You're their only hope!"

This time, a sigh arose deep in the confines of her chest and Freya did nothing to silence the gesture. The breath left her in a torrent, grating the inside of her esophagus and permeating the air around them with what was clearly vexation. The smile on Levi's face faltered for the quickest of moments, but with effort, he managed to keep it in place.

She flashed him a thumbs-up, but it was too quick and violent to look natural.

"Oh, goodie."

Belphegor was easier. She could count on him to keep calm. He would need minimal consolation after any display of care, and for that, she was at the very least, grateful.

The shaggy expanse of his multi-toned hair was dispersed unevenly across his forehead and face. He made no move to tidy the strands together. "Thanks for coming, Freya," he said, "But you're too late. I've already started turning to ice."

Yeah, yeah. His melodrama was easily ignorable as Freya entered the attic. It felt relatively warm to her human body.

Belphie, meanwhile, lay sprawled on the sofa-bed, surrounded by all of the blankets in visible sight. Pillows were stacked on top of each limb, making him look like a rag-doll strangled and then half-haphazardly thrown to the ground.

He continued speaking as she approached, oblivious to the mindlessness of her strides. "It's gotten really hard to move my fingers, too," he said pathetically. "It sucks that you're so close, but I can't touch you."

Freya stopped short of the bed and peered down at the demon. He looked absolutely miserable, tormented by the clear desire to sleep and yet too frozen to do so.

It was a hard life.

"Suck it up, princess. I have other things to do, you know."

She stooped, her long hair spilling over Belphegor's cheeks, and pressed their mouths together briefly before straightening out again. His relief was instantaneous and resplendent, each eyebrow slack and lowered in gratitude.

"Your kisses are amazing, Freya. I can feel myself warming up from the inside out." Belphie flexed his arms as if to prove so, and Freya nodded, her eyebrows not relaxed in place, but rather raised high upon her forehead.

Gingerly, he drew himself upright on the bed, the behemoth mix of pillows and blankets undulating in one, great mass. His violet eyes heated and swam with adoration. "Maybe I should get cold more often."

"Go ahead and try it," she crooned, winking once before spinning on her heel. "I'm still mad at you for last semester, you know. I wouldn't test the limits of my kindness."

The audible sound of Belphegor's sharp inhale cracked throughout the attic. "Oh, come on! How long are you going to hold that over my head, Freya?"

She called out the rest of her answer to the wooded, quiet air and began striding away.

"Not sure. But for holding a grudge, my lifespan is much more feasible than yours."

"I saw Levi's text," Asmodeus chuckled. "He was gushing about how much warmer you'd made him feel."

Freya breathed in deeply, savoring the apple-rose scent which eternally perfumed the demon's room. If she could, she'd have evicted Asmo from the premises immediately, favoring this space above all others… although her room did feel superior in the ways that mattered.

For one, there was a new, magical lock on her door that she'd installed with the help of Solomon. As it was sensitive only to her arcane signature, there were to be no more late-night interruptions unless she ordained it.

Most of the time however, she kept her bedroom unlocked, though she would never admit how much fun she often did have with the demons who dared to wake her. Still, it was a perk and relevant only to her space, so for now… Asmodeus was safe.

She felt a vine of regret at the wounded look on his face. Blegh. Why had she agreed to this?

"You're going to help me too, right!?" he demanded. A frown had crumpled the joyful expression on his face, demolishing it until nothing was left except for the performed anguish of a needy, whiny, gorgeous creature.

"If this cold, dry weather continues, my days as a beauty are numbered!"

Freya huffed in exasperation, her shoulders sagging with the weight of the day. "Why are all of you so damn helpless?" She closed the distance between them and casually brushed the back of her hand across his cheek.

"Hm?" she pressed, and Asmo shrugged in reply, turning into her touch. He'd been right before. No matter how frozen he was, he still looked as beautiful as he normally did. Though, without the natural blush accompanying all of the right lines of his alabaster complexion.

This new, feeble aura roiled off him in waves until Freya inclined her face. Asmo accepted the kiss eagerly, and far more confidently than the previous two brothers. His amber-colored eyes were dazzling with renewed intensity. It was obvious he felt better.

"I can't believe how much warmer I feel already," he moaned. Then, the woeful atmosphere surrounding him vanished altogether, and a slice of light stormed into his visage as he regarded her. Despite the suspicion narrowing the angles of her features.

"I told you not to hold back, but what about me? Can I keep kissing you until I'm satisfied?"

There was a moment of silence as she stared down the Avatar of Lust.

Asmodeus's gaze however, never faltered. He waggled his eyebrows at her. Shameless.

"Is that a yes?"

Simeon, meanwhile, was a respite. A calm, soft, cumulus cloud drifting languidly in the House's lowly-lit lounge. His usual brown skin was visibly pale, seeming bleached of vitality despite being nestled so closely to the fireplace.

He looked pensive where he sat. The dark atmosphere in the room was so quiet, and she didn't want to disturb or unnecessarily startle him. Freya scuffed a heel on the hard-wood floor in order to announce her presence.

Simeon's head turned, and his kind, sapphire eyes regarded Freya thoughtfully. "I'm sorry," he suddenly confessed. The apology made her face twist in confusion. What was there to be sorry for?

"You've made a point of coming to see me," he explained. "But I can barely move."

A pearl of concern blossomed in her chest, extending down each nerve until she was filled with a zealous desire to help him. She shuffled over to where he sat, perched on a loveseat close to the mushroomed flames, before kneeling in front of him. A sheepish smile overcame his features, smoothing out the handsome corners of each cheekbone.

"This cold snap is certainly no joke," he complained. Simeon's eyes momentarily closed, and Freya felt the pearl in her lungs cleave in two. "I never would have imagined that things would turn out like this."

"Simeon…"

He shook his head, resigned, it seemed, to wallowing. "If I could move more freely, then I'd be able to aid you. Instead, I'm stuck relying on your goodwill, as usual."

Ha! That was good.

"Good will?" Freya snorted. She cocked her head at the funny words, and Simeon gazed at her questioningly.

"You think I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart? As if I don't directly benefit from being the only one who can help everyone?"

A wicked gleam entered her heterochromic eyes, prompting Simeon to smile in response. She could see her own reflection in his bottomless gaze, a conscious vixen once again fixated on her conquests.

Freya slipped her hands over his, willing the warmth of her fingers to leave and instead, expand deep into his flesh. "A kiss should do it, no?" she asked.

Simeon, still frozen cold, flinched. "I…" he stuttered, and his expression dissolved into something tender. "You would? I don't mind, but…"

And Freya, glowing with permission, took his face in her hands before he could utter another protest. She kissed him as she would kiss the tumbled edge of a wisp-bodied cloud, plunged through with the midday's sunshine.

He physically thawed in her grasp, and the next breath left his nose heavily. It was warm, and the air washed over her cheeks. Freya couldn't help but smile under his lips, and she gently pulled back after the wistful moment. Kissing him was one of the easiest things she's ever done.

"Hm," he hummed. The gulfs of each azure iris taunted hers, threatening to swallow her up and never let go. If that was how she left this world, then, alas…

Simeon's eyes dipped to her mouth before settling once again on her face. "It's like I can read your thoughts through your lips," he said, voice honey-flavored and level. "And knowing that you think so much of me is…"

Shock, bright and electric, jolted into him as Simeon sat upright.

"Oh! I can move again!"

The smile contenting his face made Freya feel better, if anything else. She sat back on her heels, feeling the concern and the once-hard pearl inside vaporize into nothingness.

Simeon pressed a hand to the back of his neck. "Now that I've regained the use of my arms," he started, gaze flitting around the room as he spoke, "Would you mind if I held you for a while?"

Overflowing with warmth that had nothing to do with her heritage and mysterious invulnerability to the cold snap, Freya wordlessly climbed into the angel's lap, resting her head against him so that her midnight hair spilled over his heavenly robes.

As he said, he was indeed flushed with heat. "I'm getting a little tired," she said. "Is it okay if I doze for a few minutes?"

Simeon made a small noise of pleasure in the back of his throat. "Of course," he soothed. "I would be honored to be your refuge."

Her eyes fluttered closed as held her close in a snug embrace – a tranquil ocean greeting the morning sky.

"Freya!"

Luke's voice was a tiny exclamation in the golden antechamber, ricocheting off the massive walls around them.

"Luke!"

She'd wandered into the room, slightly sluggish, but at the sight of Luke bunched up by the colossal, marble hearth, her footsteps gradually accelerated until she found herself racing over to the little angel. So many fireplaces in the House of Lamentation, and yet not even they or their flaming mouths were enough.

"I c-can't stop sh-sh-shivering!" he yelped. Luke's lips were nearly white with the icy effects of the cold snap, and alarm, hot and sharp, stabbed through Freya.

"What am I going to do?" His steel-blue eyes were wide with terror, his cheeks, waxy.

"I d-don't want to f-f-freeze!"

Freya's reaction was immediate. Bolting forward, she dashed over, clumsily settling beside the golden-haired boy. She opened her arms as wide as she could, her own eyes mirrored and wide in worry.

Her voice was a command. "Come here. I'll hold you."

To be honest, Luke didn't so much crawl into her arms so much as she physically yanked him into them. His skin was chilled, limbs stiff and jerking awkwardly while they heavily settled near the roaring flames in the room's fireplace.

"There you go." Freya pressed her cheek to the top of his crown, swaying them both. She wondered if he felt crushed by her tight grip, and then decided that she didn't care one bit. So long as he got warm again.

"Relax. Take deep breaths. I won't let you go."

Eventually, she found that she was humming out loud, although when she began to do that was a mystery. Luke expelled a long breath, the joints in his body forcibly loosening with the motion.

"I feel a lot warmer," he then mumbled against her shoulder. "And way less anxious, too."

The rush of relief was powerful as it overtook her. When it came to Luke, Freya felt ferocious. Fueled by sheer willpower alone, she knew that not even a magical, demonic, cold snap could stand in her way of keeping him safe.

She would always protect Luke, no matter the cost. Truthfully, it was almost enough to keep her there for the rest of the night, the others be damned.

Satisfied for the moment, Freya pressed her lips to Luke's temple, not daring to let go even as he proclaimed his wellness.

"Good. I'll never let you freeze, kiddo." To emphasize, Freya squeezed him as tight as she could, feeling the eased, warm breath now whoosh out of him.

"You hear me?" she demanded, burying her face in his hair. "Never, ever, ever, ever!"

Luke giggled uncontrollably, and his laugh was a silver tinkle jitterbugging all around them. "It almost makes this cold nap seem like just a bad dream," he coughed out. It was a moment before she was able to reign in the desire to smush him to pieces.

"Good," she crooned. The fireplace's light glinted off the fair waves in Luke's hair. The effect was ethereal, reminiscent of a ball of golden yarn, disheveled after being played with.

Freya reluctantly lessened her hold on him. "You should lay down and rest," she suggested.

Luke's expression slanted with curiosity when he looked up at her. "And use my room, okay? I have lots of blankets in there. Maybe Simeon will let us have a sleepover soon."

Luke nearly gasped in excitement. "Really?" His delight was contagious, and his round cheeks cracked in a grin.

"Wow! It's almost like you're my angel, sometimes."

"Of course I am," she said, brushing her lips over his soft forehead. "I'm your guardian angel, and I'll always, always protect you. Got it?"

The night continued to stretched longer, and Freya could feel its effects. The cold snap leeching away at them was one thing, not to mention the thick, impenetrable sense of urgency which pervaded the entire House of Lamentation.

Although she seemed mostly immune to its magical effects, she was all too susceptible to the fatigue now steadily trickling through her body. She wanted nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and simply cease to exist for a bit. Such an indulgence would have to wait, however, which was not a pleasant thought to entertain.

Freya scowled angrily at the turn in her mind. Thanks to Luke's guidance, she found Beelzebub in the kitchen – as usual – staring at a bowl of custard and frowning nearly as bitterly as she.

Beel's shoulders were high and tight in agitation. "Hey, Freya," he said as she advanced.

She attempted to force a smile for him, but failed. "Hey, Beel," she answered in greeting. "How are you doing?"

When Beelzebub clutched a wrist in one hand, Freya received her answer. Not good, the gesture read. Not good at all, and I am not happy about it.

"Could you help me?" he pleaded. Hopelessness was etched into every angle of his earnest face, and his multi-hued eyes were downcast with clear misery. "Everything's lost its taste. no matter what it is, none of it tastes good."

Heaven forbid he should go without dinner for one night – much like she had, in fact.

Regardless, the sincerity in his expression was impossible to refute. "That's because of the snap, Beel. "

A kiss would fill you up more," she said, plainly stalking over to where he stood. Similarly in tone to he exploits with Levi and Belphegor, Freya slowly – and informally – joined their lips together.

The tormented expression hadn't abated by the time they each pulled back, however. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

His sorrow was, in addition, the product of a real concern for her. The impact was a sweetness, a spark of affection in her fingertips.

"My lips aren't too cold, are they?"

Before she could answer though, he'd already glanced away, absorbed in his own distress. "If I froze you, too. I don't know what I'd do…"

Oh, Beel. So cute. How was she to ever dismiss his endearment for her?

"Your lips were just fine, Beel." Freya smiled encouragingly at the demon, admiring the way the stove's flames licked across the warm, tangerine color of his hair. A sentient, coral pyre, perhaps.

"Are you feeling warmer at all?"

A beat passed before he arrived at a conclusion.

"Wow!" And all of the melancholy left him at once. "I don't feel cold at all now."

Shocker.

Beel's adoration was suddenly ardent on his face, illuminating the fuschia in each iris. Tulips swooning in the sunset.

He nearly vibrated with glee. How easy it was to please him!

"That kiss of yours really did fill me up, Freya."

She didn't bother attempting to curb the retort bubbling atop the thick of her tongue. "Oh, is that right?" she jested. "It better have been more exciting than the custard. Or I'm taking it back."

She acquiesced into a laugh directly after he nodded.

"Please excuse me," came a melodic, tempered voice. "I would like to pass through."

Freya peered at the demon incredulously, refusing to move herself from the top of the dining table where she sat cross-legged. She was tired. She was not going to move.

A smirk tugged at Barbatos's face, his reaction to what was inevitably the detectable defiance on her face.

"Why, whatever is that look for?" he prodded, his voice still a musical harp-string in the wind. "Surely it isn't so strange for me to be doing a little cleaning."

Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open all the way. She felt them sink half-way closed.

"Seriously?"

"We were in the middle of a party when the cold snap hit," he furthered, touching a gloved hand to his chin. The frankness in his gaze was charming as usual and completely alluring, but

…seriously?

"It wouldn't do to leave everything lying about."

Freya groaned, hanging her head in defeat. He was like the literal manifestation of her current duty. Different obligations of course, but the unmistakable vision of another doing what they felt they were supposed to made her feel like she was going to go comatose.

When she straightened, Barbatos regarded her thoughtfully, one eyebrow sailing to the top of his forehead. His emerald eyes were somehow open and walled off all at once, and Freya braced her hands on the lip of the dark wood of the table, lengthening out and kicking her feet into the air.

"Cleaning can wait," she declared, her expression becoming more a glare than anything else. She extended one hand, crooking a finger at him. "I know you're freezing. Now, come here."

Barbatos pursed his lips in contempt. "Well, that is a rather unexpected request."

But then he smirked, and Freya stilled as he glanced up at her through the haze of his full, dark lashes, the corners of his eyes curving with a subtle, unbridled desire.

"No matter," he continued, "I have no qualms about fulfilling your requests."

Barbatos slowly began rounding the edge of the table, each moss-green eye boring deep into her own. The lithe fluidity of his movements were eerily similar to that of a large cat, slinking its way through a savannah as it stalked their prey.

"Or rather," he murmured, "I would very much like to kiss you myself."

She couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.

God. He was so dangerous. Barbatos remained a perpetual mystery to Freya, and although they had not shared as many moments together as she had with some of the other demons, the alone time she had spent with the butler had always been charged with a… special kind of intimacy. Like he was a thing to crack open and consume, rather than an ember waiting to spark aflame.

Suddenly, Freya felt as if she were the conquest, the newly-shined trophy to grasp close and admire.

It occurred to her in the slimmest corner of her mind, that should he seek to, Barbatos could very well be her undoing.

Whether he exacted this power was still to be determined, but there was something in the way the blood raced in her veins which had her feeling on the edge of a gaping precipice. Like she was a vapor of smoke waiting to be snuffed out.

Barbatos was deliberate as he reached out to her, cradling her face in the white, soft fabric of his gloves. The texture was like silk, and his gaze never left her face even as he closed in.

Freya, unconsciously bowing forward, parted her lips for the demon. He, being the gentleman as always, acquiesced, allowing their slackened mouths to meet.

Whether his lips were cold or not was indiscernible. The only sensation cognizantly available to her was of the careful way he held himself above her, of his nose skimming along the rise of her cheek.

The kiss was over before she'd registered his extraction. What did she look like to him? Her eyelids felt more leaden than before, every muscle in them straining to keep themselves alert. Amusement lingered in his eyes.

He had her whipped, and he knew it.

"Well," he began, smiling politely at her, "It's almost shocking how much better I feel. It makes the previous chill seem nothing but a dim memory."

… Uh-huh.

Barbatos chuckled in delight. "Thank you, Freya. That will make tidying up infinitely easier."

And just like that, the spell was broken.

She caught herself scowling at the man, her brow furrowed with irritation for the incessant way he always needed to be not paying attention to her.

"Why can't you just rest for once in your life?" she mumbled resentfully.

"Hm?" he replied, bringing his bottomless gaze straight to hers. She stifled a shiver. "Did you say something?" Barbatos's gaze was inquiring. And somewhat accusing.

Ah, whatever. The night wasn't done just yet anyway.

Freya flushed with chagrin. "Nothing," she said louder than before. "And you're welcome."

By the time she found herself skulking into Satan's room, Freya was physically lumpish, her heels unintentionally skimming the ground with every footfall.

As usual, she found him lingering in front of a bookcase, scanning the titles with listless attention. Honestly, Freya enjoyed books as much as anyone, but the limitless, hordes of titles around them never failed to fill her with anxiety. Satan needed to clean his room, but she knew that he would rather die than throw out a single book in his possession.

He turned at the sound of the door closing, the blank, concentrated expression he wore sweetening with joy.

"I had a feeling it was about time for you to be making an appearance," he announced, scoffing casually into the air. However, his face then went smooth.

"You're incredible, you know that?"

Freya stopped short, green and black eyes widening in surprise. Huh.

Ambushed by such a compliment, she momentarily blew air into her cheeks. "Well, that was certainly nice of you," she replied.

Satan made a noise of protest. "I'm always nice to you." He momentarily cast his gaze away from her. "But there's so much more that I must learn, if I ever hope to be of use to anyone."

Of course he would think that. Satan, Avatar of Wrath, always yearning to be of service, to somehow prove himself worthy to take up the space he naturally did, with his intelligence and wit and unending need to cause trouble for his brothers.

Satan eyed her solemnly as she narrowed her eyes at the ridiculous sentiment. "You're plenty of use already," she complained, her timbre nearly a growl.

His arms reacted instinctively, snaking around her waist even as she reached for them. Freya mumbled something else incoherently, the olive-toned sweater he wore muffling all intelligible words, and then, "You're so dumb."

He was cold and his body felt stiff with the blizzard's magic, but she inclined her head, pecking him gently on his neck, jaw, and chin before affectionately settling on his lips.

"All of you are so fucking dumb," she said under his warm, soft mouth.

Satan snickered appreciatively, gliding each hand over her spine. "Well, now, that's just mean."

"I am mean. It's why you love me."

"True," he sighed. He averted his gaze from her, though she still gazed at him. Freya wore her smugness very well, and Satan knew it. A violent crimson began swirling around in his face at the scrutiny.

"It always feels like you have the upper hand," he started, and then an odd, resigned laugh was ripped out of him. Freya felt equally as nourished and heated at the sound.

"Still, it's strange. It doesn't bother me that you've got me wrapped around your finger."

His forest-green eyes, so much lighter than Barbatos's, shimmered with fervor. Contrasted with the blush in his skin and the bright gold of his hair, Satan was a gentle, spring day, washed anew with curtains of fresh flowers.

"Would you… mind kissing me again?" he asked. A slight apprehension appeared at the corner of each brow. "Not to spare me from the cold, but because you genuinely want me."

Freya was a sucker when he got like this. Satan was alluring on his own, but when his shyness overcame the usual swagger he liked to front so often – and perhaps it was the fact that he could be vulnerable with her in the first place – she was putty in his reticent, unsuspecting hands.

"Of course I want you," she said.

Freya readily fastened each arm around his neck, sifting her fingertips through the long, metallic shine of his hair. Satan's subsequent smile was filled with adoration. He shifted a hand from her spine, instead tracing the wing of a shoulder-blade.

Satan cocked his head, wondering. "Even though I'm dumb?"

Freya nodded. She spoke between each kiss, her voice low and confident. "Mhm," she breathed. "Dumb, and idiotic, and stupid, and helpless, and incompetent."

"How impudent of you." He bit at her lower lip, prompting her to grin in response.

"But do go on, my darling."

Freya found Diavolo in the music room, perched on the side of the water-fountain. Dignified and graceful as he was, even the Young Lord resembled a wilted rose, crested in royalty and power and splendor and yet so forlorn with his own powerlessness.

"Oh, Diavolo," she called out, smiling at him encouragingly from across the gilded room. "Don't look so sad! You'll break my black, twisted heart into pieces."

For a moment, he returned the smile. "How black could your heart truly be, Freya? Aren't you, in fact, here to help?"

She shrugged. "Touche."

The pleasant expression on his face then dissolved into something much like regret. Diavolo flung his gaze to the ground.

"I really did feel this was too much work for you to take on alone," he said, spreading his hands out in supplication. The dark polish on his nails flashed in the room's sparse candlelight.

His gold eyes burned and were molten with the clear desire to feel useful. "I'm not in any condition to walk about, however."

Yes, that was evident. Diavolo, despite maintaining his noble beauty, sat almost unmoving atop the fountain. By now, due to the cold snap, he must feel absolutely hypothermic.

Freya sank into a casual position beside him, slowly taking one of his hands in hers.

His face instantly softened in gratitude. "I'm also glad that Leviathan made a point of requesting privacy," he said, weakly squeezing her hand in return. "I would much rather that no one saw me like this."

A pang of sympathy rang through her. Freya opened her mouth to call him an idiot, but forced the words back down her throat. Diavolo saw this, and courteously made no comment on the matter. He could probably guess the direction of her thoughts, at any rate.

"And if I'm being honest," he continued, forehead tensing with shame, "That includes you, too."

The impulse to insult him arose once more, and Freya nearly hummed with the difficult desire to lighten the mood by way of teasing. She harbored no love for authority – and especially the all encompassing kind – but Diavolo had more than earned her respect. It would do well to show him at least that.

Slightly nervous, Freya leaned into the small space resting between their bodies. Diavolo's gaze twitched once to her lips, and then back up to her own eyes. A flash of heat rippled into her hands.

"I don't know what it's like to bear the burden of a crown," she admitted, cocking her head at the absurd thought. Freya? A queen? Ridiculous.

"But should you ever want to pretend that you're just a normal person with me, I promise not to tell anyone."

Diavolo's chest inflated in surprise. His eyes roamed wonderingly, drinking in every detail of her face, it seemed. The deep gold in his eyes flared with sentiment, and she felt a sliver of fondness radiate from deep within him, slithering all over until it had infected her own body.

He said nothing, but merely held still while Freya angled forward. Their lips met with a gentility which was absent from her kisses with the other demons. In response to the unfamiliar, cautious sensation, a swarm of butterflies abruptly assailed the depths of her belly.

Diavolo was soft and tender and warm all on his own. The first rays of sunlight in the human world, just before the sun crescendoed. A single daisy unfolding in the wind. The clean smell of snow melting into the Earth's rich soil.

Freya withdrew slowly. All traces of his previous despair were gone. Together, they shared a timid smile.

"Your feelings for me couldn't be any clearer," he said. Diavolo's smile split open, until his entire countenance glowed with the grin. "And thanks to that, I feel warm all the way through."

There was no witty, irreverent comeback which presented itself in response. Freya swallowed, forcing herself to meet his enamored gaze.

"I'm glad. I can't have the future Demon King feeling too sorry for himself. It's unbecoming of you. You're far too handsome for that."

Unexpectedly, his olive-toned skin filled with new color. He absently bit at his lip – a gesture she'd never seen before.

"Hm," he began. Hesitantly, he continued speaking in a quiet, awed voice. "I know that I no longer have a decent excuse to kiss you, but…" Diavolo smiled kindly at her.

"Could I trouble you for just one more?"

Freya blushed nervously. "I still can't believe I'm allowed to kiss you," she sheepishly replied. Diavolo raised an eyebrow in question.

"You, being the actual devil."

Diavolo laughed sharply, and she froze, unsure of his reaction. "And I mean that lovingly, of course," she said. "But, geez. Talk about jarring. I half-expect Barbatos to bust out of the walls every time we kiss just to pull me off of you."

That only made him laugh harder. "Oh, Barbatos would never do that. I would be… incredibly upset by such a disturbance. He'd blame himself for my ire well into the next century."

"That… is terrifying, Diavolo."

He pressed his lips together. "Oops. Sorry."

Freya shook her head in defeat, raven tresses of hair tickling her cheeks. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to kissing a king," she said, glancing at him awkwardly. "But, as long as I'm allowed to…"

Shock crossed Diavolo's face as she scooted herself flush up against him. Their breaths hitched together, and Freya felt the air exchange in her chest halt altogether when he pressed a hand to her cheek. His palm was tame, and swirling with heat. The musical intonations of the water-fountain tinkled in the background.

"You're allowed," he murmured, eyelids fluttering closed. "You're always allowed."

Meanwhile… this particular demon's scream was audible even through his door.

"Gaaaaaah! Why's it s-so flippin' cold!"

This was really getting old. Freya grunted in disgust, kicking in the door to Mammon's bedroom with utter disregard. The wood connected with the wall explosively, and the sound was like cannonfire.

Mammon jumped in place, head cracking to the side to see who had so violently intruded. "...H-huh!? Oh, it's just you!"

Her upper lip curled of its own accord. "Just me?" She nudged the door behind her closed once more and began stalking over to the frost-haired demon. "You're the absolute worst."

Mammon rolled his eyes at her. "Wh-why're you… s-s-so late!? I should've been f-f-first, ya hear!?" The sound of his teeth repeatedly clicking filled the absence his voice left behind, and Freya felt herself wanting to smile at his discomfort.

She stopped before him, staring at his face with a silent accusation. Her outrage abated somewhat at their eye contact. His cobalt-tawny eyes were too adorable to hate, even if he was annoying.

"My fingertips're a-a-already… turnin' to i-i-ice,'' he chattered with difficulty. Mammon awkwardly raised his hands to show her. His face paled even further at how rigid they were.

"Man, I'm a g-g-goner."

Drama queen.

The slightly spiced scent of his clothes sifted into her nostrils. The aroma was pleasing, a light mix of earth-based and dark tones. She was drained of energy, and practically incapable of bullying him the way she usually did when he was being stupid.

Freya sprung, casually flinging him backwards until he expertly landed onto the black, leather sofa behind where they'd stood. Confusion fissured his expression, and the breath left him all at once as his shoulder blades collided with the plush, worn-in cushions.

Dazed, his eyes blankly registered her nestledm on top of him.

"Hey! Ya c-crazy human. W-w-what do you t-think… you're d-d-doin'!?"

"Saving your dumb ass from freezing, idiot."

Freya then bent forward, fusing her mouth to his. His lips were unyielding with shock, but soon relented, and his entire body loosened in her hold. Mammon harrumphed, unwillingly releasing a groan of relief.

"... What'd ya go and do that for!?" he demanded in the aftermath. Freya calmly glared at his performative defiance, waiting patiently as he expelled the tantrum out of his system.

Mammon's snow-white hair laid in chaotic pieces around his forehead. "Geez," he mumbled. "You'll really just do whatever darin' thing pops into your head, huh?"

They exchanged a glance, and Freya's eyebrows jumped to the top of her forehead.

"You're just realizing that now?"

She could feel the new heat illuminating his body beneath her. He seemed to register it at the same time, because a simple grin smoothed across his face in response.

"Whooooa!" he exclaimed, tensing each limb. "I can move my fingers again, too! Freya! You're amazin'!"

Another sound was pulled out of him when she took his stupid face in her hands and kissed him over and over again.

"Damn straight." Her black hair mixed with the vivid, pearly effervescence of his own.

Mammon wrapped his arms around her, flattening their chests together as he responded to the affectionate assault with his own fervent kisses.

"Mmph," he breathed. "That's my human, all right." His fresh enthusiasm, despite her fatigue, caused her to smile.

"Always comin' through for The Great Mammon, even if ya are late sometimes."

Freya narrowed her eyes. Trepidation tinged the smile he wore, but he maintained the gesture, and eventually, she surrendered to his audacity. She pressed another kiss to his lips.

"Like I said. You are the absolute worst." Freya sighed, and kissed the part of his forehead which remained exposed. "But I love you anyway."

Mammon's mouth momentarily paused in embarrassment. "... Ya better." She hummed in weariness, in serenity, in the ocean of physical warmth washing over her…

until Mammon suddenly jerked away, glowering at her with an avid air of wrongdoing.

She cocked her head, confused.

"... Wait," he griped, resentment seeping into his face. The sapphire in his gaze hardened into periwinkle ice-chips.

"How'd you go about warmin' everyone else up?"

The glow of the library's fireplace skipped along the room's walls, twirling ribbons of light across each shadowy space. The lowlight exemplified the delicate hue of his skin, the pale silvery-white of his hair… even his gray eyes looked bleach of all color, glimmering out the confines of a watery basin.

Solomon gave a rueful smile when he spotted Freya wandering in. The room felt somewhat chilled, as if the air was charged with ice crystals that sapped all vitality.

She attempted to return the smile, but gave up halfway through. She was not in a smiling mood today.

"Well done, Freya," he congratulated. Solomon cupped his chin with a hand, a signature gesture for whenever he was deep in thought. "Thanks to you, everyone will live to see another day."

The smile was promptly replaced with a frown, deepening the shadows in his face.

"... is what I'd like to say, but I'm not doing so great myself. Honestly, I can't quite believe it," he said, face overflowing with an cliff of contemplation.

"I figured I was holding it together, but now I'm shaking like a leaf."

Freya said nothing, and she pandered up to the human, grabbing a fistful of his black robes.

She tugged, pulling him in, and observed the cold single-handedly seep out of him, leaving him melted against her. His visage was illuminated with raw joy.

"How perfect. I wanted to kiss you, too."

Still, there wasn't a trace of uncertainty in his face, and Freya – for what was perhaps the thousandth time – what were the true thoughts which ran through his mind.

"I can't believe I actually did stop shivering, though."

"So, I've been told."

A slight stress-mark bunched up the bit of skin between his eyebrows, though he refrained from making a comment on her sarcasm.

"Did your kiss have some kind of special effect? Or is it because you're special to me?"

Solomon regarded her pleasantly, as if she was a cool, liquid balm in the dry throat of a traveler. "... You'll have to kiss me again. For science."

It was only his wit that redeemed him. Blasted with a lack of energy, and fraught with the desire to be taken care of, Freya unwillingly allowed a smirk – not quite a smile – to cross her face before inclining her jaw at just the right moment.

Solomon, knowing he'd bested her, grinned in triumph. He slipped a hand into the mass of her midnight hair. Goosebumps immediately arose on her neck.

Completely resigned, and more overworked than she was used to being, Freya allowed Solomon to envelop them in a cocoon of fresh warmth.

… And that was it.

She was done. She was so done. Freya had had enough of this goddamn day, and as she straggled into the dark, comforting confines of Lucifer's room, a forceful scowl remained plastered onto her face. Let the goddamn demons freeze. She had played her part.

Now she was cold, succumbing to the effects of the Devildom's magical blizzard.

Lucifer took one look at her before grinning apologetically.

"If the incessant texts that I've been getting are any indication, I take it that things have mostly gone back to normal," he started, extending one hand in her direction.

Freya grumbled incoherently in reply, ignoring his hand altogether and walking straight into his frozen chest. Lucifer's arms came to hold her by instinct.

He sighed, now regretful. "The House of Lamentation will be a perpetual source of noise once more."

His hands stroked her back, her neck, the soft skin at the nape of her neck. Comfort flooded into her physical form, but her mind remained fully depleted, barely capable of digesting any of this conversation.

"Joy," she retorted.

A chuckle pulsed through him, jarring her as well. "... Well," he said. "That's for the best. I'm glad to hear that everyone is safe."

Yeah. And they owed her. They owed her big time.

Lucifer kissed the top of her head. A bonfire exploded where his lips touched her hair. "I'm sure the others have already said as much, but you have our thanks," he murmured near her ear.

"You can thank me right now," she grumbled. Freya tilted her face up, gazing adoringly – and expectantly – into his dark, carnelian eyes.

Delight flashed over each iris. "If that's what you want," he purred, "Then I shall oblige."

Fulfillment, in its totality, saturated her entire being. Their mouths moved in perfect harmony, and he tasted of home and of love and longing, even though he remained right there in front of her. She would always long for him, no matter the distance, despite every singular moment they spent together.

An empty kind of bliss filled the slight space between them after parting. "Will that do?" he prompted, eyebrows drawing low on his face.

His body felt flush with renewed health, and the lazy, familiar way he embraced her felt charged with desire. "Because it isn't nearly enough for me."

"Hmph. Tease." Freya grinned, eyes slack with lethargy, and playfully pushed the towering demon away.

Lucifer scowled. His head tipped back with defeat, and he shook it side to side, as if experiencing a rare revelation.

"Ah," he groaned. "I get it now! This is exactly what it means to get fired up about something."

And, indeed, there was a passion churning within him that was palpable. The craving was written all over his face, the way his hands flexed in anticipation… even in the coy smile he gave her, with one side pulling up higher than the other.

She was already resigned. There was no resisting the man, no matter how much her utter lack of energy yelled at her.

Freya, holding his gaze, slipped off her dark, cropped hoodie. Tossing it to the ground, she then wiggled out of her long-sleeve shirt, noting the way Lucifer's hungry expression remained transfixed on her every motion.

Wordlessly, after undressing herself, she approached Lucifer. A sole hop onto her toes propelled her where she needed to go and Lucifer caught her easily, holding Freya as she wrapped her arms and legs around his body.

"Carry me," she sighed, belabored by the tedious day. Her bare skin and bra gently chafed against his silk vest, although the sensation itself was pleasant on her skin. "I'm too tired to walk."

A deep rumble of laughter permeated throughout Lucifer's chest. "Of course, Master."

Her eyes crinkled with the nickname Lucifer rarely used for her. It was a sacred thing. A litany. A prayer. Something only he could give to her in secret and a thing only she was able to accept.

Lucifer began moving to the grand expanse of his bed with Freya in his arms. Her nose grazed the long line of his neck and she breathed in the scent of the sun, of everything warm and real.

He did not drop her unceremoniously onto the mattress, but tenderly, until he moved as well and then languidly covered her body with his own. Exhaustion pulled her eyelids down, and she smiled impishly against his mouth.

"What would you have me do now?" he whispered, his tongue lightly tracing along her jaw. "How would you like me to best express my appreciation for you?"

Stabs of light and thunder roiled under her skin, flushing it until her flesh felt as if it would burst. Freya chuckled happily, tilting her face up to give him further access.

"You can start with a full body massage," she answered, "Followed by tea."

The incredulous look on his face as Lucifer reared back prompted Freya to laugh even harder.

One eyebrow sailed in protest. "A massage, 'followed by tea'?" He stared deep into her eyes. The burgundy there unfurled with a deep, probing curiosity.

"That's all?"

Hm. When he looked at her like that, it was much more difficult to think lucidly.

Freya allowed her hands to travel along the fine silk of his vest, gathering her fingers at the buttons laced together in the front. She tugged at them, and Lucifer's gaze followed suit, until he looked at her once more, through the thick haze of his lashes. The effect it gave was… impressive.

"My wish is your command, right?" she teased, tugging the top buttons free. "I may find it in my heart to reward you afterwards… if you behave."

A thick, impenetrable sense of voracity stormed into the space around them as they spent the next moment staring the other down. Eventually, Lucifer acquiesced, swallowing down whatever witty retort which had clearly risen to the surface.

He grabbed hold of her and yanked her up until their chests were flush together. Freya pushed the vest from his shoulders, and grinned as his hands deftly found her belt. He removed it in one, sharp tug.

"Well, then," he said, a wicked, wicked grin brightening his face, "I look forward to your inevitable kindness."

WIthout warning, Lucifer had flipped her, and Freya's stomach met the mattress with an oomph!

The pressure of his waist and thighs suddenly appeared on her hips, and at once, warm, dexterous hands began kneading the tight knots in each shoulder. A full noise of pleasure slipped out of her.

"Bless you," she groaned. His palms connected with a particularly formatted knot, and Freya buried her face into the divine, cloud-like bed-sheets. "Ugh. You're off to a really good start."

His hands meticulously kneaded her the muscles in her back, but they gradually began to slow, and Freya's body was a wordless question mark, pulsating at the demon atop her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

The inquiry seemed to bring him back into awareness. The rhythm of his fingers increased, pressing lazy circles deep into the tissue.

"Out of curiosity, how many of the others did you fire up?"

Uh-oh.

"Ummm," she started.

Lucifer's interest was a tangible, violent landslide she could feel from beneath his glorious body.

Oh well! He asked for it. Freya sighed, too drained to formulate any mischievous remark.

"Every single one of them."

There was an instant that became frozen in time. Uncertainty danced into view, and despite her discomforting acknowledgement, there was also a curiosity to see how he would respond. It was no secret a few flirtations existed between she and some of the other brothers, but it also wasn't a subject frequently brought to life just for the hell of it.

So, it was entirely unexpected when the bedroom was subsequently filled with the booming, staccato-deep undulations of his laughter. Freya found herself beaming at the sound, infected by the rich timbre of his voice. It was a bit before he could calm himself down to speak.

"Those poor bastards," he chuckled, and his hands practically leaped over her skin. She felt his lips touch the nape of her exposed neck. "They've never stood a single chance in Hell."

Hmph. True.

She hummed low in her throat again, and extended the lines of her elbow and wrist. "That doesn't bother you?"

He didn't need to think over his answer. "Not particularly. No matter who you choose to spend time with, you're still mine." The hands on her shoulder blades twitched.

"As long you know it, and as long as they know it, what more could possibly upset me?"

She had to admit, he had a point. But still, his confidence was hot in her body and full. He clearly wasn't the Avatar of Pride for nothing. A thrill rushed through her at these thoughts.

"That's… very generous of you," she decided. "And attractive. You're kind of the best, you know."

"Hm," he grumbled cheerfully. "Of course I am." A whirlwind of butterfly kisses along her spine.

"Now, take your pants off," Lucifer commanded. A tinge of darkness twirled along the edges of his voice. Suddenly, Freya didn't feel as tired as she did before.

"Time to do the legs."