Stolas would, in fact, not know peace so soon.
"What the fuck were you thinking, you oafish simpleton?!" Stella screamed at the young imp, who was unfortunately becoming quite familiar with said screaming. "Last week you served me tea that was too hot. Now you serve me Pinot Noir that's cold! How is that even possible?! Who chills Pinot Noir? It's red wine!"
Stolas knew better than to correct her treatment of the imps. He was just happy to have her ire drawn off of him for once. He would be sure to thank the imp for his ability to take one for the team, perhaps reward him with an extra 30 minute break.
"I'm sorry, Lady Stella!" The imp quickly said. "Someone from the kitchen must have mistaken the bottle and put it in the cooling area of the cellar!"
Stella gawked at him. "And you didn't notice how cold it seemed in the wine glass? Do you lack the ability to tell the difference between hot and cold?" Stella snarked. "How could you possibly have missed the temperature of the wine?"
"Y-you know, the morning crew might not have...they..." The little imp stammered. Stella gave him a glare that could only be described as soul-piercing. It was as if she was daring him to finish his sentence.
"...The morning crew might not be used to prepping the wine so early in the morning!" he finished his sentence quickly, grimacing as he saw Stella's eyes widen.
"Big mistake," Stolas thought to himself, taking a sip from his coffee as he returned to his breakfast.
Stella blinked twice, slowly. Her head tilted slightly as her jaw hung open. "Are...are you calling me an alcoholic?" she growled.
"N-no! I only meant that it's-I mean, I only-" he nervously stammered. Any words besides "Sorry" were clearly not what Stella was looking for. She looked as if she was about to blow a fuse.
She stood up from her chair, staring down at the imp with a dangerous look about her. "Imp. What is your name," she said slowly.
The imp flared up, shaking with fear. He seemed ready to wet himself. "Uh...M-m-mason, Lady Stella."
"Mason," Stella repeated, stepping forward and leaning down. She grabbed him by the lower jaw and looked him straight in the eyes. "If you fuck up like that one more time, I will have a custom-commissioned stockade built in this mansion, just for you, where you will be locked inside and lashed for several days."
The imp nodded frantically in understanding. He knew that Stella would make good on her promise. Stella saw the fear in Mason's eyes and turned back to her seat, satisfied.
"Yes, Stella, it won't happen ag-" He quickly caught himself. But not quickly enough. Stella's head slowly turned back to the imp, a burning fire returning to her eyes.
"I-I meant Lady Stella! I'm sorry, Lady Stella!" he corrected, but it was too little too late. Stella stomped towards him, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt as he tried to run. She wound up her arm, preparing to launch the imp down the hallway.
Mason braced himself to be launched into orbit…
…
Stella sighed and dropped the imp to the floor, stomping angrily out the room. Stolas, Octavia and Mason heard heavy footsteps move upstairs, up to the master bedroom. Mason was confused, to say the least. Octavia was even more confused.
"Doesn't mum usually…throw you guys when she's pissed off?" she asked Mason, raising an eyebrow.
Stolas shrugged and pleasantly hummed. "Hm. I suppose Stella is getting a better grip on her temper after all."
Mere moments later, the three heard footsteps thumping back down the stairs. Stella stomped into the room carrying a padded helmet, kneepads, and elbow pads. She tossed them to the floor in front of the befuddled imp servant. "Put it on. Now. NOW!" She ordered. Without question, Mason scrambled to equip the safety gear.
As soon as he finished putting on his protection, Stella grabbed him by his neck. She gave a furious battle cry, taking a running start as she wound up before hurling him down the hall as hard as she could.
There was an audible whoosh as the imp flew down the hallway. His scream faded off into the distance before a distant crash, and several shatters were heard. Stella stared down the hall, her fists clenched and her breathing heavy.
"That was...thoughtful of you..." Stolas complimented hesitantly. "Where did you get padded protection from?"
"From my… servant, Wilkins," Stella said proudly. "He suggested I find ways of removing myself from distressing situations. So I removed that fucking red-skinned cretin from my dining room."
"That doesn't explain why you went out of your way to not fuck him up," Octavia muttered.
Stella merely looked down bashfully. "Wilkins also suggested I find ways to express my anger without physically hurting those around me..."
Octavia glanced back and forth between her parents, confused. "Who's Wilkins?" she muttered, shoveling a spoonful of sugary cereal into her mouth. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on, or...?"
"I'm seeing an anger management expert," Stella said curtly. Octavia inhaled a bit of milk out of surprise, sending her into a coughing fit. She spat her cereal back into her bowl.
"Right?" Stolas said gleefully, patting Octavia on the back as she hacked and coughed. "Maybe in a few months, she'll stop throwing every goddamn thing in arm's reach..."
Stella rolled her eyes at the two. "Yes, yes, it's hilarious. At least one of us is working on self-improvement rather than wallowing in self-pity. I'll be back later; I've got more therapy today."
With that, Stella left the two to themselves, leaving the room. Octavia was still choking on the milk that had gone down the wrong way.
"Fucking-COUGH-COUGH…Gleh…fucking anger management?!" she yelled in disbelief, clutching her neck.
"Isn't that wonderful, my little owlette? What joyful little surprises life brings," Stolas said as he patted Octavia on the shoulder. "Why, I would have expected snow before something like this."
Octavia seemed unconvinced, eying Stolas skeptically. "Dad, are you making mum do this?" she asked. "There's no way she would agree to something like this."
Stolas shrugged as he opened the fridge door, pulling out a slab of meat. "Your mother has been tight-lipped about her reasoning. I'm not sure why she's decided to turn a new leaf," he said as he walked over to his carnivorous plant. The massive Venus flytrap seemed to perk up as he approached. "But, it's as they say: never look a gift horse in the mouth." He tossed the meat to the giant carnivorous plant which greedily chomped it out of the air.
Octavia sat in thoughtful silence. "So does this mean you and mum are cool now, or…" She trailed off, looking up at Stolas. Her usually tired eyes seemed to be filled with some semblance of hope. Hope that Stolas, unfortunately, did not quite share.
He sighed, looking down as he caressed his Venus flytrap. "I'm afraid I don't know."
It had been a couple days since Doctor Wilkins had seen his royal client. He was admittedly looking forward to hearing about her progress now that she'd learned at least one new coping skill. However, his assistant was much less enthusiastic.
"She did what?!"
Wilkins filled his two glasses for the upcoming session. "Please, Verona, I'm quite alright. It's really not a big deal."
"She strangled you!"
Wilkins chuckled. "That she did. It comes with the territory. Though she's admittedly a little, eh...more fiery than most clients," he said, nervously chuckling some more. Verona was not amused at all.
"Fiery?! She fucking strangled you, Wilkins! You need to press charges," she demanded, walking up to Wilkins and slamming her hands down on his desk. "I'm not gonna let you get pushed around like that! At least get security in this room just in case! Shit, have me standing in the corner to watch, at least. I'm not just a PI, I can fight."
Wilkins nodded along. "I understand why you are ssssaying this, Verona, and I appreciate your concern. But you need to trust me to do my job. Please." Wilkins put his hand on hers, giving her a knowing glance. "I can handle thissss. You know I can."
Verona glared at her serpentine boss, before relenting. "Fine. But I'm not cleaning up her mess if she throws a baby tantrum again," she said, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. "You know, you let people push you around too much. Just because she's our client..."
click.
The two turned to the door as it slowly opened.
"Ssstella-I mean, Lady Stella! Right on time, come on in." Wilkins waved the Goetian inside, beckoning her to her seat.
Verona looked at Stella warily before grabbing her laptop and giving Wilkins a hollow smile. "I'll leave you to it, Doctor Wilkins," she said, walking out.
Stella watched the imp head down the hallway into her office. "Who was that?" she asked.
Wilkins sighed and smiled. "That would be my assistant, Verona. She helps me around the office, does background research, and helps piece together documents for me. She makes my job easier."
Stella hummed in acknowledgment. "She seemed rather upset on her way out."
Wilkins nodded as he sat down. "Yes, she and I had a minor disagreement. Nothing that would interest you, Lady Ssstella. She was a bit upset, is all," he said while flipping through his notes.
Stella smirked. "I assume she hasn't heard of the breathing technique I've already learned," she said, still proud of her newfound skill.
Wilkins chuckled, looking up at Stella with a knowing grin. "I assure you, she has. Lady Stella, anger is..." Wilkins paused, looking up from his pages to think. "Anger is a natural emotion that we all feel every now and then. You aren't here to get rid of it, merely to control it. A bit of anger here and there is perfectly acceptable."
Wilkins leaned forward, grabbing his water pitcher and an empty glass. "Imagine that the water is your anger," he said, tilting the pitcher forward carefully. He slowly started to fill the glass up. "When you don't let that anger out, it builds up. You get ssstuck on things you should have said in an argument, things you should have done…"
Stella watched the glass fill up, getting fuller…and fuller. Wilkins continued to pour, and as the glass filled to the brim, it began to overflow, spilling water onto the table.
"When you let that anger build up and never let it out, it'll spill onto the people around you, and you'll find yourself saying things that you might later regret," he explains, lifting the glass carefully to his lips and taking a few small sips, before setting it back down. "That's why finding healthy ways to release that anger is important. Empty our glasssss, so to speak." Wilkins cocked his head, clasping his hands together. "What do you usually do to let that anger out?"
Stella thought for a moment. She didn't really have a system for letting her anger out. She did have a habit of breaking Stolas' things at least. "I throw things when I get mad. I presume that counts."
"I see. And when you throw things, this makes you feel a release?"
Stella sighed. "No. Not really. It just feels nice to let Stolas know how mad he's made me," Stella said as she watched Wilkins scribble something down in his notepad. "What? Is that not normal?" she asked.
Wilkins shook his head. "On the contrary, Lady Stella. It's quite normal. Your body is telling you that you have an excess buildup of stress, and it's trying to exert that through a burst of energy. You throw a glass, you see and hear it break, that offers a temporary relief."
Wilkins clicks his pen and looks up at Stella. "Long term, it's not a great way of managing emotions. It can hurt the people around you, if not physically, then emotionally. That can result in people being driven away from you."
Stella groaned. "Wonderful, so there's nothing I can do. You said not to let anger build up, but now you're telling me I must either bottle it up or get divorced," she said bitterly, crossing her arms.
"Now now, Lady Ssstella-"
"Could you stop hissing when you speak? It's simply disgusting to watch your wretched tongue flick around like that," Stella said with a grimace, interrupting him.
"Ah. Of course, Lady…" Wilkins paused, pressing his lips together as he fought to hold his tongue inside his mouth. "...Sstella. Force of habit." Wilkins cleared his throat, before continuing. "There are healthy ways to let out anger. We all get really angry once in a while. Including me. This morning, I was walking to my office with my coffee, and Verona, my lovely assistant, bumped right into me. Spilled coffee on the two of us.
"Now, I believed she was at fault because she was on her phone. But she got mad at me! Can you believe it?" Wilkins said, chuckling and peering down the hallway. Stella swore she heard a scoff from the other room.
"Well, you know what I did?" Wilkins closed his eyes and took a deep, performative breath. "I removed myself from the situation, and took a thirty minute jog."
Stella blinked in confusion, cocking her head. Wilkins saw her confusion, and continued. "You see, throwing things is a minor burst of energy. For the amount of destruction it causes, you don't get as much value out of it. Running, however, requires lots of energy. That exertion of energy demands focus. And that focus takes your mind off what made you angry."
Stella was confused. His inferior servant, an imp no less, soiled his clothing with the disgusting working-class swill known as coffee, and he didn't even scold her? She needed him to elaborate more. "So the solution is to just run away from Stolas? As in, literally?" she asked, confused.
Wilkins sipped his water through pursed lips, thinking for a moment. He set his glass down and sighed. "You can't run away from your problems. But you can run away from your anger. When you return after a nice long jog, you approach your problem with a level head. When I got back to the office, Verona was still upset. But because I cleared my head, we were able to resolve our dispute in a calm and collected manner."
Wilkins pulled a handkerchief out of his pockets and started wiping up the spilled water from earlier. "Perhaps next time you feel angry, as though you're about to burst, remove yourself from the situation. Not just physically but mentally. You might even find once you get back home, you don't care as much anymore."
Stella was conflicted. Using her muscles? Moving faster than a leisurely stroll? Having to tire herself with physical exercise? She was a princess! Princesses don't run! "It...just seems so undignified," she muttered. "Running around like a commoner. Exercise is for the lower class brutes, not a dignified princess!"
Wilkins chuckled at that. "We all live and breathe, regardless of class. Your body has basic needs, and one of those is exercise. Particularly when you're upset. You'd be surprised how good it can make you feel."
Wilkins glanced at the clock. "Goodness, it's already been fifteen minutes. How has your week been?"
Stella groaned in exhaustion. "Servant, I may require more techniques than what I currently know. Breathing helped me to hold myself back, but as you've said, it's beginning to spill over." She rubbed her face with her palms. "It seems like every living thing in this world is trying to find ways to make me angry. Especially Stolas. That smug smirk when he sees me leave the house. It makes me wanna march right back inside and just..." She made a strangling gesture with her hands before sighing defeatedly.
"Hm. That's unfortunate to hear. Were you hoping he'd be more supportive?"
Stella was disgusted at the thought. "I don't need his support," she spat. She knew Stolas would be a prick about it. It was why she didn't even want to talk to him.
"Then why does it bother you that he doesn't support you?" Wilkins asked in a neutral tone.
Stella scoffed at the ridiculous question. The question was so absurd that she didn't have an answer. Why did she care? She did care, but she couldn't explain why. She just didn't have the right words!
Seeing Wilkins stare expectantly at her, she searched for some good reason. Yet nothing came to her. She averted her gaze to the floor.
Seeing Stella struggle, Wilkins offered some help. "Do you feel that when he does something disrespectful, he's indirectly stating that he's better than you?"
"...Perhaps," Stella muttered defeatedly. She felt a bit embarrassed that she hadn't come to that conclusion herself, given it was her own mind.
Wilkins wrote down some more notes as the two sat in silence for a short moment. "Think back to the most recent time Stolas did something that really just ticked you off. What was going through your head in that moment?" The snake demon brought his notepad at the ready.
Stella thought for a bit. She didn't want to reveal the disgusting wine bukake from the previous night. It was too embarrassing to bring up.
What was the last time he'd really pissed her off?
"It was when we were out of beef. I requested steak for breakfast and found out he hadn't ordered anymore." Stella said. "My thoughts, and rightfully so, I should add, were that he never even thinks about my needs."
Wilkins seemed to wince at that. "Never is a strong word," he said. "Can you think of a single time he's done something right?"
"Nope," Stella swiftly said in denial.
"Hm." Wilkins brought his pencil to his notepad, scribbling something down. He paused as if weighing his next words. "Have you ever heard the term 'cognitive distortion' before?" he asked.
"You'd best not be calling me crazy-" Stella growled.
Wilkins quickly raised his hands. "No, no! Not at all," he said quickly, not wanting a repeat of session one. "In fact, these are things our brains do to rationalize difficult situations. A cognitive distortion is just a term we use to describe negative thought patterns. They can cause us to...exaggerate or inaccurately perceive reality."
"That just sounds like a nicer way of telling me I'm crazy," Stella said, leaning forward in her seat.
"I'm not saying you're crazy," Wilkins said in a reassuring but firm tone. "This is something we all do. Think of it like this."
He grabbed his glass and set it to the left side of the table. "This glass is an event that might happen to you." He set his notepad to the right side of the table. "This notepad is your emotions. Your feelings.
"We assume that an event directly causes us to feel an emotion," he said, pointing between the glass and the notepad. "But there's actually a middleman."
He placed his pen between the two objects on the table. "This pen is your internal dialogue—that little voice in your head. The event causes a dialogue, and this dialogue is what causes the emotion, " he said, pointing from the glass to the pen and then to the notepad.
"When Stolas forgets to do something and that causes some inconvenience, what is that dialogue?" Wilkins said as he gathered his notepad and pen back up.
"He's a fucking disgusting pig and an asshole," Stella said indignantly.
Wilkins thought for a moment. "So he's a disgusting pig…" Wilkins consulted his notepad for a moment. "Why don't we try to find a specific point in time to look at, rather than just saying he's always bad."
Wilkins turned his notepad to a new page. "What was the first time you ever saw him this way?" He asked. "What was the very first time Stolas wronged you?"
Stella's eyes narrowed. That one day…she could never forget it. It was the worst day of her life. Even worse than the time Stolas fucked that imp…
Their wedding day.