December 28th, 2008
The Ring Of Pride
Pandemonium
There were many aspects of modern Hell culture that Stella didn't understand. Pop music was one of them. In her opinion, the genre was a bunch of mindless drivel that lacked passion and complexity. Stella blamed the Sinners; pop was their creation, after all. She supposed she could fathom why certain others found it appealing, though: it made for excellent background noise during a binge. It was no wonder why Gluttony held the monopoly on producing Hell-based pop. That didn't stop Stella from yearning for the music of yesteryear. Unfortunately for her, Stolas was obsessed with pop, and he was absurdly stingy when it came to the limousine's radio.
Stella, Stolas, and their five-year-old daughter, Octavia, sat together in the back of the limousine. Their seats were arranged in a U-shaped formation, with Stella and Stolas facing each other, and Octavia sitting in the "bowl", so to speak. For the past half-hour, the father-daughter duo had been singing along with the radio, though calling what they were doing "singing" was being incredibly generous. Not only was Octavia off-key, but her voice was incredibly high-pitched. It was a miracle that the windows hadn't shattered yet. Stolas had a much better voice for singing, but the higher notes caused his voice to crack. It would've been somewhat funny had Octavia's caterwauling not given Stella a headache. The song itself was nothing to write home about, either. It was a painfully repetitive tune about cotton candy, a Gluttony Ring hit if Stella ever heard one. The peahen glanced over her shoulder, hoping desperately that Castle Morningstar was in view. It wasn't, not yet.
"Mmmmph…" a groan rumbled in Stella's throat, though it was unheard by Stolas and Octavia. Stella shifted her body so that she could more easily gaze outside at the province. Pandemonium was a massive district, taking up at least two-thirds of the Pride Ring. It served as the capital of Hell, and a home for the upper class. A plethora of estates peppered the land, their size varying on the status of the family that owned them. Stella liked to study the homes of her fellow Goetia, as it gave her ideas of how to perfect theirs. At some point, she'd have to invest in a hedge maze for the garden. They were all the rage these days, and Stella refused to have demons think that she was behind the times.
"Mummy!"
Stella jumped at Octavia's voice. Well, at least she'd been able to zone out for a few minutes. The limousine was now considerably less noisy, Stella noticed. Turning around, the demoness saw both Octavia and Stolas looking at her. The owlet's eyes were twinkling with excitement, while the prince's beak was twisted into a deep frown. Stolas eyed Stella, his body still angled towards Octavia while his arms folded over his chest. Stella flashed him a cold stare, but as she turned her attention to her daughter, her eyes softened a bit.
"What is it, Octavia?" asked Stella halfheartedly. The peahen often spoke in this manner, subduing her emotions behind a wall of stoicism. Octavia didn't seem to mind; as far as she was aware, it was just the way her mother talked.
"Sing with us!" Octavia chirped. "It's really fun!"
"Sing…?" the peahen echoed. She scrunched her beak at the thought of singing along to something so obnoxious. Stella shook her head. "No. I'd rather not."
"Why not…?" Octavia began to frown.
"I don't want to," was Stella's simple reply.
"But why?" asked Octavia. Stella furrowed her brow.
"Octavia," said the peahen in a warning tone. "What have I told you about always asking "why"?"
"To not to…" Octavia sighed as she looked down at the floor. Stella felt a muscle in her face twitch as her mask threatened to slip off. She didn't like seeing the girl upset, but boundaries had to be set at an early age. A proper princess didn't annoy others around her with inane questions. Stolas rolled his eyes and decided to chime in.
"Your mother hates singing," he cooed. In contrast to Stella, Stolas' voice was gentle and soothing. Stella shot him a glare, which he ignored. "She thinks it's a waste of time. I'm sorry, Via; I should've told you."
"I don't hate singing." Stella tried to steady her voice, but a growl managed to slip through. She couldn't help it. Stolas had a gift for ruffling her feathers. It was like a game to him. Taking a moment to settle down, Stella spoke again. "I just don't sing. I don't have the voice for it. Trust me, Octavia; you don't want to hear me sing."
Stella wasn't being entirely honest. She was out of practice these days, but when she used to sing, her voice was quite pleasant. Stella didn't sing anymore, however. It hurt to sing. There were too many memories attached to singing that Stella preferred not to revisit.
"I bet you sound pretty…" Octavia insisted, shyly glancing up at her mother. Stella blushed. Now, she felt a bit guilty for turning Octavia down. Quickly, Stella turned away from Octavia's puppy-dog eyes.
"I really don't…" she muttered. She needed to change the subject. Clearing her throat, Stella called out to the family's imp chauffeur. "Change the radio, would you?"
"Yes, Lady Stella," replied the chauffeur, and with a twist of the knob, he found a station playing some nice rhythm & blues, something more of the peahen's style. Stolas tutted.
"You can't do that," he argued. "Via and I voted for pop music. Majority rules, remember? That was our agreement for the radio?"
"Yeah, Mummy," Octavia added. "That's not fair."
"What isn't fair," Stella began bitterly. "Is being outvoted 2 to 1 every time we go out. I never get to listen to what I want. Never."
"Oh, don't exaggerate, Stella." Stolas rolled his eyes again. "We don't always listen to pop."
"Yes, we do."
"No, we don't."
"Yes. We do."
"Put it back on the old station," Stolas ordered the chauffeur. The imp felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his head as he reached for the knob.
"Leave it!" Stella barked, making both the chauffeur and Octavia jolt. A second later, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She fell into Stolas' trap like an idiot. Why? Why did he always do this? And why was it so easy for her to lose her cool when it came to him, after all these years? Stella stole a glimpse at Octavia, who silently stared between her parents as the tension grew. Octavia wasn't always a spectator to her parents' scuffles, but the times where she was made her very uncomfortable. The girl wasn't sure why, but she felt safer keeping quiet until things settled down. Stella bit the inside of her cheek, before sighing and addressing the chauffeur once more.
"...Turn it back," she begrudgingly huffed. She held her tongue as she witnessed Stolas smirking at her out of the corner of her eye.
"Y-Yes, my Lady…" the imp stammered. Once again, generic dance music spilled from the limousine speakers. Stolas hooted gleefully.
"Thank you, Stella," he purred. Stella didn't buy his act for a second. "Perhaps after the Gala is over, you might win the next vote, hoo hoo."
Stella glared daggers at him. They both knew that wouldn't happen.
"...Um…" began Octavia softly. Her parents turned to her, seeing the owlet fiddle with a strand of her hair. "We can, um…"
"We can what?" Stolas urged her on. "Go on, Octavia."
"We can listen to Mummy's music," suggested the young princess. She gazed up hopefully at Stella, who stared back at her in surprise. "If you wanna."
"Via…" Stolas leaned towards the girl. Stella detected a hint of dismay in his voice. "We voted, remember? We're playing our music right now."
"Yeah, but…I don't want Mummy to be sad…"
"Your mother will be alright until after the Gala." The joviality of Stolas' voice was quickly fading. Stella looked at him in frustration. He wouldn't stop, would he?
"Forget the music," said Stella with a wave of her hand. "I should probably give you a refresher on Gala etiquette, Octavia." The owlet deflated.
"But that's boring stuff, Mummy..." Octavia whined.
"It's not boring. It's important." As Stella was talking, Stolas leaned back into his seat, pulled out his hellphone from his pants pocket, and began scrolling away at his text messages. Stella knew what he was up to. For the sake of having a few minutes of peace, she pretended not to notice. Her eyes were squarely on Octavia. "You're a big girl, now. Everyone's expecting you to act like a lady, especially your grandparents. You wouldn't want to embarrass them and make them upset, would you?"
"Mmm-mmm," replied Octavia with a shake of her head.
"We say "yes" or "no" when someone asks us a question, not "mmm-mmm". You're not a plebian, Octavia."
"Sorry…"
"Nevermind that. Anyway, the first thing that'll happen when we arrive…"
Stella began listing out a series of dos and don'ts for Octavia to follow. The owlet resisted a sigh. She wanted to listen, she really did, but her mother's droning monotone made it difficult. If only Stella could talk about more interesting things the way Stolas did. Her feathers fluffed as she recalled a promise her father made earlier that day: the both of them would share a dance together at the Gala, her first as a Goetian princess. Octavia visualized it in her head, her and Stolas twirling together without a care in the world. No lectures, only laughter. A large, toothy grin formed on her face.
"...And under no circumstances are you to wander off without me or your father." Stella paused and studied Octavia's face. The girl had zoned out while she was talking. Stella blinked wearily. She was no different from her father, Octavia. Something compelled Stella to look over at Stolas, and when she did, Stella saw that he was still texting away at whoever was on the other end. Stella's eyes began to sting. It amazed her how he could be so blatant about his disregard for her and her feelings. A defeated Stella returned to staring out of the window in silence.
At least the view couldn't ignore her.
The Ring of Sloth
Rosewood Hall
Sunday had come far too quickly for Ipos' liking. Liberation Week felt so fast in recent years. One minute, the prince was waving off his staff members leaving for the holiday, and the next, he was preparing himself for a gala he hated going to. It was almost 5:30 PM when Ipos stood at his bathroom mirror, bathed, groomed, and dressed in his finest suit. He was a tall figure, and had the appearance of a red bearded vulture. His face was white, and blazing, yellow eyes sat behind a pair of square-rimmed glasses. A third, closed eye rested in the center of his forehead. It was easy to miss if one didn't know it was there already.
Standing at his side was a small imp named Benson, one of several servants under Ipos' employment. Unlike his coworkers, the imp had refused the off-time. A lot of Goetian servants acted similarly, either because they couldn't afford to take time off, or because they had no incentive in staying home. A third option was that they were simply forbidden from taking the holiday off by their masters, but this only applied to certain households. Benson's reasons for staying at the manor were unknown to the prince, but Ipos was content to give Benson his privacy. As Ipos made the final adjustments to his clothing, Benson held out a long, black cloak towards him.
"Ah, thank you." Ipos snapped his fingers, and a golden aura began dancing around the cloak, lifting it and draping it over his shoulders. To finish off his outfit, Ipos spritzed himself down in a light coating of sandalwood cologne. He looked down at the imp. "I think I'm ready. Let's head down, shall we?"
"Yes, sir," said Benson with a nod.
"You go on ahead," the vulture commanded. "Keep my parents occupied until I make my way down. I'll be behind you in a minute."
"Of course, sir." With another nod, Benson obeyed his prince and left the bathroom. Ipos listened as the clicking of hooves gradually died down. When all was silent, Ipos took in a deep breath, and slowly sighed.
"It's just another Gala…"
With that last bit of self-reassurance, Ipos straightened up and reached for a cane that rested against the sink. Carefully, he turned around, opened the door with his aura, and limped outside. His left leg had been lost decades ago, and in its place was a metal prosthetic. The cloak kept it from view, but nothing could hide Ipos' awkward gait. With a deep frown, Ipos emerged out into the corridor. He passed the various bedrooms, most of which lay untouched for years due to his lack of guests. There was one door in particular that made him stop. While the other doors in the corridor were the same shade of brown, this door was painted a bright yellow. For a moment, it entranced him. Ipos wanted to do nothing more than stare at it. He shook his head. Not tonight. Not before a Gala. Never before a Gala. Ipos tore his eyes away from the door, and carried on.
Teleportation portals made getting around Rosewood Hall much easier for the prince. Snapping his fingers, a vertical, eye-shaped wall of gold appeared before him. He stepped into its warm light, and was in the manor's foyer a second later. His mother's voice, Queen Felicity, was the first thing to catch his attention.
"I've heard so many other Goetians call it another "hellspawn husher"," she was saying to Benson. "But I think that's a bit unfair." The imp stared up at her, nodding politely as she spoke. Ipos gave him a look of sympathy. Oblivious to her son's arrival, Felicity carried on. "Me, personally, I found it rather adorable. Such a nice change of pace from all the sex and gore…"
At Felicity's side stood her husband, King Vine. Being more attentive of his surroundings, he met Ipos halfway as he approached. The royal couple were a large pair, both standing about twelve feet in height. Ipos mostly resembled Felicity, though her feathers were a lovely silver, and she lacked his white facial feathers. Vine, meanwhile, was a bulky, griffin-like demon with a jagged beak, a majestic, feathery mane, and a long tail that swept the marble floor. Ipos had a similar tail, which whipped about and exposed his apprehension for the night to come.
"Father…" greeted Ipos in a flat tone.
"Ipos," Vine rumbled in response. He nodded in Felicity's direction. "Don't mind your mother. We saw a film at the cinema a few weeks ago and she hasn't been able to stop talking about it."
"Ah. Well, I'm glad she liked it."
"She liked it a bit too much, in my opinion." Vine clicked his beak in mild disapproval. "She won't stop pestering our staff with her impromptu film review."
The thought of his mother sitting down her servants and lecturing them about some children's movie made the corner of Ipos' beak twitch. A laugh tickled his throat, which he forced down with a cough. Vine raised a brow.
"What?" the king demanded.
"Ahem," Ipos coughed again. "Nothing, Father. Shall we be off?"
"Mmph." Vine pulled out a pocketwatch and checked the time. "Indeed." He paused, turning to his wife. "Felicity."
Felicity paused in mid-sentence, and finally looked up to see Ipos. Her eyes brightened, and immediately, she rushed towards her son. Vine hurriedly stepped back and Ipos braced himself. Benson, meanwhile, quietly thanked everyone from Lucifer to the Six Sins of Hell for the respite.
"Ipos!" Felicity chirped, throwing her arms around him. "Oh, hello, my baby!"
"A-Ah…" Ipos stammered. In an almost robotic fashion, he moved his free arm and returned the hug as best as he could. "Mother, we've talked about this. Not in front of my employee, please…"
"Oh?" Felicity pulled away, pursing her beak in disappointment. "Ah, right. You don't like hugs anymore. I'd forgotten…"
Ipos blushed. Part of him felt wrong for turning down his mother's affection, but another part of him knew that he couldn't be coddled forever. His childhood was centuries behind him. Felicity would have to understand that at some point. Ipos looked to his father for help, and Vine nodded.
"We can talk more in the carriage," Vine said, stepping closer and carefully guiding her away with a hand. "Come now."
"Ah…alright…" Felicity didn't resist her husband's efforts, but still looked a bit down. Ipos tried not to worry about it too much. Felicity always returned to her usual, chipper self after a few minutes. Ipos allowed his parents to exit the manor before he addressed Benson.
"Your patience is always appreciated, Benson," he said. Benson smiled a bit. It was moments like this that made him glad he was working under Ipos and not some other, crueler Goetia. "I'll be back tonight. Keep the hounds out of trouble, won't you? I don't want to see half of them unconscious in my wine cellar again."
"Of course, sir," said Benson. He waved after the prince. "Have a good time, sir."
"I'll try," replied Ipos, before making his way outside.
The artificial sky of Sloth was shifting into a dark shade of fuschia as night drew near. A coach led by four skeletal horses awaited the royal family out in the driveway. Standing guard near it were the manor guards, a pack of fearsome hellhounds dressed in fine uniforms. Fixed to their maws were metal muzzles that had sharp, jagged teeth. Such contraptions were sure to bring a violent end to any intruder. Ipos paused to address them.
"Behave. All of you." He tapped the side of his head. "I'll be watching."
A unanimous "Yes, Master." rang out from the pack.
"Very good." Ipos began entering the coach, calling out one more command as he did so. "Inside."
The hellhounds obeyed. In a body, they rushed into the manor, some running normally, and others racing along on all fours. Vine shut the coach door behind Ipos once his son had settled down in the seat across from him and Felicity.
"Are you both ready?" he asked.
"Mmm," Felicity hummed. Ipos only nodded. Peering outside of the carriage window, Vine aimed a portal in front of the horses. The coach driver flicked the reins, causing the horses to whinny and roar as they pulled the coach forward. In seconds, the coach disappeared into the portal, and the portal vanished soon after.
Benson and the hounds peered outside. Sure enough, the royal family was gone. For the next six hours, Benson was the lord of the manor. This was the reason he worked on Liberation Week. After all, what imp didn't want to fulfill such a fantasy? The imp smirked before rummaging in his pocket and pulling out a small, silver key. The hounds eyed him. Tails wagged, ears perked, and fangs snapped.
"Alright, fellas," said Benson, shedding his more sophisticated tone for something more casual. "Let's get those muzzles off, and then I'm ordering pizza."
The hellhounds cheered before Benson could finish his sentence.
The Ring Of Pride
King Lucifer's Domain
The journey was almost over. The Stolas family limousine had turned onto a winding road surrounded by acres of dense, dark woodland. The trees were incredibly tall, so tall that Castle Morningstar couldn't be seen. Being as young as she was, Octavia couldn't recall many details of Gala's past, but Lucifer's woods had always frightened her. Something about them seemed off, as if something was lying in wait and ready to pounce out at any moment. Octavia began to whimper.
"Mmm?" Stolas looked up from his phone, the first time he'd done so since the radio incident. Stella looked towards the owlet as well. "What's the matter, Via?"
"It's scary outside…" Octavia whispered.
"Hoo hoo," Stolas chuckled. "There's nothing scary out there, my owlet. Just a bunch of trees, see?" Octavia swallowed before peeking outside again. Trees, trees, and more trees, just as her father had said. Still, Octavia felt unnerved. Her whimpers morphed into sobs. Stolas frowned. Using his magic to free Octavia from her seat belt, the prince brought his daughter into a tight embrace.
"Shh, shh…there, there…there's no need to cry, my dear…Daddy's here."
Stolas' words didn't seem to help, and tears began streaming down Octavia's cheeks. Stella wondered if she should step in. Admittedly, she was content to let Stolas handle Octavia's emotional outbursts. He was normally very good at keeping a smile on the girl's face. There were exceptions, though, and this seemed to be one of them. Stella gritted her teeth. There'd be paparazzi waiting for them once they arrived, and the last thing Stella wanted them to see was Octavia's face swollen from crying. She reached out for the owlet.
"Let me see her," Stella said. Immediately, Stolas scowled.
"I've got her, Stella," he huffed. "Just give me a second."
"Just let me try something," Stella urged, trying to hold back her impatience. Not again. She couldn't deal with another argument right now. "Besides, it's better if the cameras see her with me. You know that."
"Tch," Stolas scoffed. He loosened his hold on Octavia. "Fine. Whatever."
Thank Lucifer… Stella thought.
Stella scooped the girl up in her own aura, a pink flame that danced around Octavia's body. Stolas, still agitated, returned to his hellphone. Stella paid him no mind. Octavia was her priority at the moment. The sniffling owlet gazed at her mother with glistening eyes. Stella cleared her throat.
"You need to stop crying, Octavia," she said. Her tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't nurturing, either. "You're a princess. Princesses don't cry." As Stella spoke, Stolas rolled his eyes.
"B-But…" Octavia murmured.
"Listen to me," Stella interrupted. "And I want you to listen well. You're not just a princess, Octavia. You're also a Goetia." The peahen paused, lifting Octavia a bit so that they were at eye-level. "One day, you'll be stronger than anything in these woods. And before that happens, your father and I are here. We won't let anything hurt you."
In the midst of Stella's speech, Stolas found himself glancing up at her. He blinked. It…was actually a decent attempt. He wouldn't say it aloud, but the prince found himself somewhat impressed. Quickly, he tore his gaze away before Stella could notice him watching.
"...Promise?" Octavia asked softly. The corner of Stella's beak twitched, and she gave the owlet a rare grin.
"I promise, dove," replied Stella. "Now, please. Stop crying. I want you to look pretty for the cameras. Can you do that?"
"Mmm…!" Octavia began, but caught herself. "I mean, yes, Mummy…!" Stella felt a strange warmth in her chest. So Octavia had been listening to her, at least a little.
"Hmm-hmm…" Stella laughed. "Good girl. Now give me a smile. Your best smile."
Not needing to be told twice, Octavia put her biggest, jolliest smile. Stella nodded her approval.
"Very good, dove."
Octavia didn't cry the remainder of the trip. The forest still terrified her, but what Stella said made sense. Her parents were the strongest (and scariest, in Stella's case) demons she knew. Of course, they'd protect her. After a while, the forest cleared away, revealing the magnum opus that was Castle Morningstar. It was an enormous structure with an exterior of pure gold. It stretched for miles on either side, and its towers were so high, their tips were hidden by crimson clouds. A throng of demons congregated before the castle gates, and in front of that was a gorgeous fountain carved of fine, black stone. The figure of a seraphim was displayed on the fountain for all to see, a handsome figure, with flowing hair and six magnificent wings. Its hand reached for the sky, fingers clutching at some invisible prize.
The road stretched around the fountain, and waiting for the limousine were a team of imps serving as valet attendants. Currently, they were tending to a coach. It had to belong to one of the kings, Stella assumed. Most Goetia didn't use such archaic means of travel these days, but many of the first generation Goetians were traditionalists. She quickly pulled her own hellphone from her purse and checked the time: 5:49. They had eleven minutes to spare. Once the limousine came to a halt, the chauffeur ran around to open the back door. The time had come. The Stolas family had arrived.
"Look!" cried a demon as cameras were pointed in the direction of the royal family. Stolas stepped out first, followed by Stella. Octavia began smiling. The flashing of the cameras hurt her eyes, but her smile never faded. Lucifer's hellhounds acted as a barrier between the paparazzi, and the Goetians. They, too, wore the metal muzzles.
"Get back!" one of them snapped, clawing at an incubus who was trying a bit too hard to get a good shot of Stella's backside. The incubus screamed in agony as inky, viscous blood seeped out onto the ground. Octavia looked over Stella's shoulder.
"What happened?" she asked. Stella pushed her head back down.
"Nevermind that, Octavia." The peahen pointed into the crowd. "Do you see Uncle Ace anywhere? Or Aunt Fifi?"
"Um…" Octavia looked around. There were so many demons, and a majority of them were strangers to her. Not to mention how difficult it was looking past the taller Goetias. She shook her head. "I don't see them."
"We'll find them," Stella promised. She glanced over her shoulder at Stolas. He was on that damned hellphone again. The owl stood there amid his peers, making no effort to interact with them. He was no better than some bratty teenager. Stella inhaled sharply and snapped her fingers at him. Stolas glared up at her.
"Will you put that thing away?" she whispered sharply. "And get over here."
Stolas scoffed, but tucked the hellphone away and stepped closer. He folded his arms. 7:00 couldn't come fast enough…
"Kiss me," Stella whispered again, nodding towards the cameras. Stolas grimaced. Stella stomped her foot irritably. "Come on."
"Ugh…" groaned the prince. Whatever would shut her up, he supposed. He leaned forward, meeting Stella as they pressed their beaks together. The owl attempted to move away immediately after, but Stella held him in place by clutching onto his tunic. Octavia looked up at them, giggled, and covered her eyes. Stolas grabbed Stella's hand, pried it off, and stepped back, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"You didn't have to do that…" he grumbled.
"Then actually kiss me next time," Stella hissed back. "Now come on. Let's get this night over with."
"Gladly…"
Together, Stella, Stolas, and Octavia moved further into the crowd, hoping to find their family and friends before the castle gates opened.
