Chapter Text
There was a chill in the air as Blitzø lingered outside of the grand, intimidating doors of the Goetian palace. He had stared at those doors long enough to know them by heart– long enough to determine that they weren't made to be welcoming. They were made to keep others out. Even when Blitzø would take Stolas back home for the night, it never seemed like those doors were welcoming him home- it instead seemed like they were swallowing him into an abyss, holding him there until the next time he felt like venturing away from its cold grasp.
Or, maybe the imp had been watching too many horror movies lately. His imagination loved to get the better of him. Maybe it was a projection of his own worry.
Regardless, the bodyguard waited by his post. It seemed like he was waiting for ages, but eventually the bird-brained prince was exiting those terrible doors, dressed in what looked like the rich people's version of pajamas.
“Took ya long enough, you ready?” Blitzø asked the tall demon, crossing his arms as he stuck to his place on his right side. Stolas always made sure that his bodyguard stood specifically on the right , and would damn near freak out if he took any other position.
The Goetia nodded as his only response, hugging his silk pajamas against himself as another gust of wind swept over them. His hair was disheveled as usual, but he didn't look as tired tonight.
Since there were no directions given, Blitzø figured they were going to take the usual route for his nightly walk. Sometimes Stolas would go into detail describing which streets he would like to go down, which roads he refused to cross, and he would ramble on about everything and about nothing. On nights like this, though, he would remain so silent that he seemed to be mute.
Blitzø would take care of him either way, and not just because he was hired to.
He led his employer on his walk without saying anything either. As much as he used to hate silence, he had grown to enjoy it, and he didn't want to agitate the other. One hand remained ready on the holster of his gun, the other gently entwined with the prince's.
Though he had only been working as his bodyguard for two weeks now, the routine was easy to fall into– natural, even. He wasn’t sure if Stolas remembered who he was, but the imp never forgot. The memories of the two of them as young, naive children playing in the grand halls of the palace was a memory that stayed in his mind often. If only Stolas would ever let him set foot inside so he could reminisce on the past.
Maybe that was for the best, though. Some memories shouldn't be dwelled on so heavily.
The night seemed to be particularly chilly. Stolas shuddered quietly, his free arm wrapped tighter around himself.
“Maybe you should've worn, I dunno, actual clothes? You're fuckin’ freezing,” Blitzø mumbled under his breath, halting their pace so he could slip his coat off, having the Goetia crouch down so he could drape it over his shoulders. Due to their extreme height difference, the coat wasn't nearly long enough, but it was wide enough for him to wrap around his shoulders.
“Thank you,” Stolas whispered, standing to his full height and grasping the other's hand again.
He always sounded like that, so tired and distant, like he was detached from his surroundings. That's why he needed a bodyguard in the first place. He was beyond strong enough to protect himself, but he lacked the situational awareness to see a threat before it was too late.
Blitzø didn't mind. He only wished that the owl could see how much he was cared for by him. All of that “feelings” bullshit was something he was never good at, though, and he never asked if Stolas was okay for the same reason. He had eyes, he could tell he was broken. He just didn't know how to fix him, or if he had the willpower to.
The rest of their walk was plagued by the same heavy silence.
When they arrived back at those palace doors that Blitzø hated so much, he took both of the prince's hands before letting him leave.
“Hey, why don't you ever let me inside? Do you not trust me or somethin'? I've saved your life, like, twice already, you'd think I'd be trustworthy enough to see your home again, yeah?”
Stolas’ expression darkened, and he stared at the imp for a long time before yanking his hand away, his empty frown turning to an angry one. “Do not forget your place, Blitzø,” he answered coldly, turning to open his palace doors. “I have my reasons. You will not come inside under any circumstances, and I don't want to hear you asking about it again.”
And just like that, Stolas was swallowed by that abyss once again. And he took his fucking coat.
_________________
Blitzø entered the I.M.P. office with a scowl on his face, making a beeline towards the closet to grab himself a blanket. Moxxie seemed to be the only other person there at the moment, sitting at the desk with tons of scattered papers all around him, a tightly gripped pen in his hand that he nervously clicked over and over. Blitzø curled up on the sofa that was tucked in the corner, glaring at nothing in particular.
“ Sir ,” Moxxie spoke, panicking and flailing a piece of paper around in the air. “I've been looking over the numbers all night trying to figure this out- Sir, the only way we can continue to afford this office is… well, if all of these zeroes were literally any other number instead.”
Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Great job Moxx, you're a fuckin’ genius.”
This earned a pitiful squeak from the smaller imp as he slammed his head against the desk.
Sighing, Blitzø pulled himself off the couch, keeping himself wrapped in the blanket as he approached the desk, looking at the papers himself. Finances made absolutely zero sense to him, but he knew enough to tell that they desperately needed money.
“I'm sorry, Moxx–”
“Did you just apologize ?”
“–Stolas is supposed to be paying me tomorrow, that should be enough to get us through another week.”
The air in the room was heavy. Blitzø had started his assassination business on a whim, and he had roped Moxxie and Millie into it as well. It hadn't gone this poorly at first. They had plenty of clients, mostly rugged imps who had it out for other rugged imps for some bullshit reason, but it didn't take long for clients to stop showing up altogether. Millie still did work for her parents on their farm, so the couple had enough money to get by on their own, but not enough to contribute to rent for the office too. That's why Blitzø had put out advertisements for bodyguard work in the first place.
There was a long pause before Moxxie spoke again. “Please don't get mad at me for saying this, but… maybe it's time to give up on this whole assassination business thing–”
“ No ,” Blitzø sternly interrupted, his hands clenched into fists. “No, I'll figure something out. I promised you and Mills that I'd make this shit work.”
“But what about you ?” Moxxie protested. “You've been paying for the rent here completely by yourself, do you even have enough for your apartment? For food? For basic needs?”
Blitzø only shook his head, hugging the blanket tighter around himself. “Don't worry about it, Moxx.”
“Well too bad, because I'm already worried. You look like you haven't slept since you started working for Stolas, and you don't look like you've eaten, either.”
He wasn't wrong. Whatever small amount of money Blitzø had left after covering rent for the office all went to Loona and her food. She wasn't blind to it either, but Blitzø was stubborn. He had lived on the streets before. He knew how to scavenge for his own meals, when he could be bothered enough to do it.
“Will you calm the fuck down about it if I promise to tell you if it gets bad enough?” Blitzø mumbled.
Moxxie wasn't buying it, as he believed it was already ‘bad enough’, but he didn't want to set off his boss. So he reluctantly nodded, sighing as he slumped back in the chair. “Alright, whatever.”
Blitzø glared down at the floor, trying not to let the stress overwhelm him too badly. He still needed to be somewhat put together enough to perform his job for Stolas well.
“It's late,” he eventually addressed the smaller imp again. “Go home. Mills is probably waiting for you.”
Moxxie hesitantly agreed, sliding off the office chair and grabbing his keys. “Alright… goodnight, sir. You should go home and sleep too.”
“I will,” Blitzø grumbled, watching him leave.
He didn't go home until much later, though. He spent a few hours taking measurements of the office space, trying to figure out which room would be large and comfortable enough to turn into a bedroom for Loona. He had fallen behind on rent for the apartment long enough that he knew he would lose it soon, and he wanted his adopted daughter to be as comfortable as possible when they would inevitably have to start shacking up there instead.