#Stolas Peerage

[grey-eyed-menace]

I'm reworking my Peerage again.

[Jesus Christ, is there a single damn fic in this entire Fandom that doesn't have the focal Peerage as part of the protags Harem?

No? Just me?

Goddammit Nero, why do you have to be such a monogamous weirdo for your species and genre? You're right up there with Sirzechs.]

[walkingshcdow]

@infernal-feminae | Darcy & Stolas

“Did you feel it?” Stolas asked, one day after his release from the hospital, as he lounged casually in Darcy’s tiny apartment. His long legs hung over the arm of the sofa and though he was still tender in many of the healing places, he gestured for her to nestle against his side. “When that beastly man ran me through with an angelic blade? I was so worried I opened you up to some sort of danger during it all. I… may have called for you. Psychically, I mean.”

He thought about Darcy a lot in the hospital and missed her terribly. He hadn’t dared to reopen the portals between their minds again until he was healed and now that he could see she hadn’t died from an overbearing psychic pain, he longed to be near her. As if that could protect her. As if he’d protected anyone in his life. What he didn’t tell her was how lonely nearly dying had been. Once, he’d led Hell’s armies against the threat of angels. He had even fallen to become one of the Goetic demons. He felt disgusted that someone – anyone – had used angelic weapons against him like that. To know that Stella had made the call for it to happen hardly surprised him, though it did sting. Revenge ought to be proportionate in some way, after all, and parents should behave somewhat civilized during divorce proceedings. To know that Blitzo never came, never visited, never cared… that was something else altogether. He had Via and for that Stolas was grateful. He would never want to ask his child to stand by his side when he died. And he had Darcy and… well… she made the world less lonely. Of all the things he had told her about the last few months, there were a few things he had yet to tell her.

The first was that when Striker had stabbed him, he had psychically called out her name. If she knew that already, then perhaps she had felt the slice of the angelic blade. There was no telling how strong their bond had become over the last year.

The second was that he had gotten his Grimoire back. Blitzo had taken his leave in that flinty, cutting way of his and he had not taken the Asmodean crystal. Stolas had half a mind to take it back to Asmodeus in honorable fashion. He also had whimsical, half-thoughts of doing it up as a necklace… or maybe a ring… for Darcy.

It was too soon to move on like that, wasn’t it?

But he had called her name in his darkest moment and thought about how empty the confines of the night sky would be without her. She made him feel as though, no matter who else discarded him, if she wanted him close, maybe he was worthy of some kind of love.

The third thing he had not yet told her – and he hesitated to do so – was that he had been a fool not to fall in love with her from the moment she first trusted him to possess her. Maybe he had loved her since that moment. Maybe he was just a coward, who didn’t want to sink lower than he had already in the eyes of the peerage. Maybe he knew better than to move from relationship to relationship to ease his aching heart.

Or maybe, the real reason he had never told Darcy that he loved her, was that Stolas was certain she must have known.

[phoenixtakaramono]

Stella? 😳

I’m actually really curious on what will be different about her. With Stolas' personality in P&B I cannot imagine her being as abusive as she is in canon HB

Ooh! You saw my tags in reference to this post! So this delves into a bit of Spoiler Alert territory for A Prince and His Baron, so take heed! But, yes, you are on the right track!

PRINCESS/ LADY STELLA IN P&B

I’m not going to lay all my cards out on the table because I want an element of surprise when you read it and see everything unfold. But basically Stolas and Stella are still in an unhappy arranged (political) marriage. That was the angle I ended up deciding very early on during S1 and before the official canon character design of Marquis Andrealphus—her elder brother—was released. So knowing what we know now, and combining what I had initially planned for P&B, this is what we’re likely to see in the fic:

1. Lady Stella was the youngest daughter of a Marquis and Marchioness

2. Stella’s brother, as the eldest, naturally became heir of the marquisate by birthright. As the oldest and heir, he has authority over their household (even Stella defers to him)

3. The engagement was arranged by King Paimon and Andrealphus’ and Stella’s aristocrat parents (probably the parents were the ones who planted the idea in Paimon’s head, that they conveniently had an unwed daughter around Stolas’ age & slipped him a photograph of their youngest) ➡️ this is a smart decision because this gives A&S’ noble parents prestige amongst the Peerage (“Heh. You said your son is engaged to a young and refined noble lady? Well, my daughter is engaged to a prince of the great and wise King Paimon. My littlest will become a princess. Beat that.”)

4. There were probably some incentives given to persuade King Paimon to make their daughter first choice when it comes to marriage candidates. For Paimon to say it’s a “non-negotiable marriage” to a young Stolas, it must means there was something in the incentives that Paimon liked. Which means a divorce = breaking the terms of the contract.

Historically, for a princess or noblewoman to be sent over to be engaged to a prince/ king, usually it’s to expand territory, spread influence/ power, broker peace between two nations/ feuding families, etc. There are also unsavory reasons but that’s not the direction we’re going with for P&B.

5. In this AU, Stella is less of a controlling b*tch over her husband’s affairs—provided that he does not embarrass her socially and he still puts family first. In return, because she allows Stolas to have “mistresses” (cough men cough this was before she cottoned on that her husband might just be gay cough), Stolas cannot interfere with his wife’s own affairs. They both have their paramours and live their separate lives essentially. It’s only in public that they put on their persona of being a royal couple with no big controversies or scandals

I’m basing their relationship a lil off some historical precedents (and, this sounds bad, but also on some clients that I personally know of, where the wife finds out their husband has a mistress/ lover on the side—but the wife stamps their foot down and stubbornly refuses to divorce her husband because she’s The Wife, dang it, and no hussy’s gonna topple her from her position and socially embarrass her by this scandal and make her lose her cashcow husband/ lose face, etc etc)

6. In this AU, because she has this freedom to do whatever the hell she wants and she is given this luxury, she has less psychological pressure on her, no? Sure, she still cares about public image and status (it can’t be helped; when you’re a noblewoman who became a princess by arranged marriage, your every action, sentence, and even the way you dress are scrutinized), but there’s a lil less stress for her in this case. In this AU, at least “at home,” she doesn’t necessarily have to force herself to stick around “an awkward pushover of a husband” who doesn’t love her and who she doesn’t love back. S*x is unfulfilling for the both of them and they’d realized very early on that they aren’t a great match.

7. The two main political factions (+ neutral faction) in the Ars Goetia have been introduced in ch4. As someone who hails from the Aristocrat faction because of family but became part of the Royal faction on account of her marriage to Prince Stolas, you can imagine her conflict of interest. She has familial loyalty and obligations (a line we might see Andrealphus say: “Stella, don’t forget your origins; if it weren’t for us pushing for your marriage, would you be able to enjoy the cushy life that you have now?”), but her current status runs antithesis to that.

8. She’s not…irredeemable in this AU. There is character development for her. She has to choose a side. And, spoiler alert, it will be a responsible decision ultimately made for her own happiness and for her daughter’s. And, although she’s still a controlling b*tch (a shade or homage to canon), she will agree to a divorce and even give Blitzø her infernal blessings, saying something along the lines of “hmph, very well, you may have my hand-me-down” (referring to Stolas). Y’know, still a snooty noble lady, haha, but you just gotta love her.

IMPORTANT EXCERPTS FROM P&B

An air of buoyancy was reflected in his footsteps as he approached the paintings on his wall.

“Good morning, my darling starfire.” Stolas pressed a kiss to Octavia’s forehead in the life-sized portrait he’d commissioned of her. A night owl through and through, his daughter was due to be awoken. As long as she did not ignore the shrill ring of her alarm clock, she would be able to make it to breakfast on time before her royal lessons began.

As per his customary routine, he drifted to the royal family portrait and he respectfully pressed a kiss to his wife’s knuckle. He breathed, “Stella.”

As the patriarch of the family, he was familiar with not only his daughter’s daily program but also his wife’s. Like his own, their routines remained steadfast, rarely changing. Even from the moment he’d met her, Stella herself had never been an early bird; she had to compensate for that shortcoming by drinking at least a pot of freshly brewed tea while a maid drew her a bath. Whilst she washed up, her three dressers would then curate her day’s wardrobe with Stella’s lady-in-waiting in the adjacent dressing room. Depending on the day’s engagements, he had seen his wife change dresses as many as five times.

He knew at least two solid hours of Stella’s day were spent in her office reviewing paperwork—signing documents and reading letters whilst being informed of Hell’s current news delivered by her press secretary. As his princess, Stella would sometimes be privy to his correspondence with the Great King of Hell himself, but such opportunities were infrequent due to the nature and confidentiality of the written information.

Stolas hoped his family didn’t begrudge him of his indiscretion—especially Stella, who’d felt predisposed to criticize his choice of bed partners whenever she managed to catch one in the act. It wasn’t often he told his paramours to stay the night, but yesternight was the rare exception. He’d promised, after all, and Stolas kept his promises.

It would be ideal if her daily program was full as usual today, whether it be planning charity events or attending a garden party. Last he’d overheard from the household staff, Stella was happily preoccupied in a ménage-a-trois with her favorite lovers.

—P&B, ch3

Chapter 4, in Blitzø’s introspective POV in both the first scene and last scene, goes a little more into detail about the type of demoness Stella could be. It’s a legitimate fear for Blitzø to have (again, historical precedence & irl anecdotes).

Originally Stella was supposed to meet Blitzø in ch4, but then S2:E1 dropped and I was conflicted and it was already like 40+ pages and I was trying to meet a personal deadline (aka before my eye surgery), so I ended up relocating her. But as compromise, I’ve set up some foreshadowing to tease her first actual appearance in the story.

The tag “#Stolas’ wife is strangely okay with it” (about Stolas and Blitzø) is an important context clue. In this AU, don’t forget, unlike canon Blitzø, our imp assassin is a famed assassin with plenty of notches in his belt (kills)—and Stolas made him 1) a landed nobleman and 2) their family’s vassal house. It’s especially important to remember the other context clue mentioned in P&B: that even Stella has her own connections to mercenaries. So, for Stella, meeting Blitzø in their household in this AU with this context, she’s going to be a lot more receptive to him than what’s in canon.

ADDITIONAL CONTEXT

Keep in mind that this is not a critique of the show. This is just a characterization I plan to take Stella in, merging my original intentions with a bit of homage to canon in this AU.

Also keeping in mind that when I originally started writing P&B, it was when Helluva Boss only had its pilot episode and S1:E1 premiered; but I had already begun brainstorming on what to do with Stella. At that time in the fanfic fandom, Stolas’ wife hadn’t even been given a name yet officially, but it was already quite popular to portray Stella as a huge c*nt (I mean, understandable; it is a popular trope for a reason). And while I’m alright with that characterization—and especially seeing the direction HB has taken canon via S2:E1—we have to keep in mind the kind of writer that I am. I am a contrarian—and am predisposed to go against the grain. (It’s not just for HB; it’s the same for all the other fandoms I’m writing for.) I’ve spoken about this before but I have a weird sort of natural disinclination toward random trends or what’s currently popular in the fanfiction community for that fandom, because my brain automatically goes, It’s been done already. There’s so many incredible writers who’ve written that trope/ characterization already. You’ve got 3 other WIPs already. If you’re not going to give your own spin on it and/or interpretations, why should you add one more project to your already sizable workload if you’re not going to contribute something new to the fandom?

Again, this is just the way my brain works^ for me personally. It doesn’t apply to everyone else. It’s just for my own stories that I take on. :)

[stolasofthegoetia]

Thou Shalt be Well

Summary: 

Even princes in Hell have nightmares. They all lost a war to end up there.

Or a snippet of how I imagine Stolas fighting in Lucifer's rebellion and the aftereffects of the battles on him now.

CW: Blood, Death, Gore (minor), Depictions of Warfare 

Stolas rubbed the blood and grime from his helmet with an equally dirty piece of cloth. It was a fool’s errand; each was as dirty at the other, but the simple back and forth motion was the closest to soothing he’d felt in days… weeks. Gazing into the once pristine golden helm he could barely make himself out, his four blue eyes were murky spots, his white and golden plumage flat against his slim body, his once proud wings drooped in fatigue. The rebellion was taking so much from all of them; how could he look upon his withered reflection and think of vanity? Others had lost limbs, wings, lives. 

Selfish. 

The level of selfish that couldn’t be seen in a legatus. He had legions to command, tactics and movements to correctly plot. The stars guided him, guided them all in this battle for freedom. But they lost more every day. The weight of each of his fallen kin felt heavy upon him, his mistakes, wrong interpretations. The Others of the Stars were complex beings even Father couldn’t completely interpret. What hope did he have of guiding his siblings to their rightful liberation? 

“Stolas.” 

The angel turned from his musings, helmet and rag still held in each hand. Before him stood an equally tall angel, his armour bloodied but his will unbent, unbroken. His wings, completely golden, extended out in a display of pride, confidence. His white eyes fixed upon Stolas. 

“Brother.”

“Thou hast been despondent of late. T’would seem your thoughts torment you. Wouldst thou speak with me freely?”

“A-always Caim, my respect for thy standing within our ranks would f-”

“Bah.” The senior angel waved a dismissive hand, “Thy do me the dishonour of talking of ranks and peerage? My brother, I am here to comfort you. Our battles remain vast and unyielding, Father’s servants do us blows repeatedly and more shall descend. Ist thou of mind enough to hold thy wits and blade sharp?”

Stolas blinked several times, his grip in the rag tightening. He swallowed and felt as though the sound bathed the room in his fear, his weakness. 

“Brother.” 

Caim stepped close and rested both hands upon Stolas’ shoulders, his head tilting forward till their foreheads rested gently against one another. 

“Thou hast a disinclination for fighting, it is true. But thy spirit and will is boundless, Brother Lucifer knows this, he see’eth in the powers unmatched, the stars themselves impart thy wisdom to thee. My faith in you is as in him. Never allow thyself to feel akin to weakness, for that is Father’s ploy. We are strong. We shall be free. Yes?”

His words were quiet yet the passion in them blew any the heaviness from the room. Stolas closed his eyes, dropped the rag and both hands wrapped around his brother’s waist, pulling him close and, for just a moment, remembering when this was all play among clouds and light. Where he was taught of battle and love and the skies.

“Forgive me, brother. Mine eyes hath lost clarity; losses are blades within mine wings and fear a weight upon mine breast. How canst thou have such belief in me?”

Caim raised himself enough to press his lips against Stolas’ forehead.

“Thou art mine brother. I know ye. All will be well.”

“But-”

“Hush. You grieve for our kin as is right. You fear our demise which is natural. But thou must promise me to always bare a thought close to thine heart and mind, yes?”

“W-what thought?”

Caim pulled back to smile at him, his strong hands cupping Stolas’ cheeks and wiping away any remnants of building tears. 

“Thou shalt be well.”

Such simple words spoken with absolute certainty stole his breath for a moment and it was what he needed. Stolas felt he was a babe once more, cradled in Caim’s arms while his brother made the monsters of the stars and his mind fall to nothing. In him all was well. 

And then yells were heard outside. 

“They come.” 

Caim stepped back, grabbing the helmet he’d left by the side and pulled it on, his battered armour and glorious wings a sight that was forever burned into Stolas’ memory. 

“Come brother! We fight.” 

“Yes.” Stolas nodded, pulling his helmet on in kind and grabbing his sword, shield and fitted a small blade against his back. 

“To battle kin!” Caim cried, raising his blade aloft, light shining from within. Thousands of their breatharian, all standing in formation below, bellowed their war cries and took to the air. The light of angels, allies and enemies filled the sky in a cosmic clash of blades, arrows, and fists. Their position was strong, the stars had chosen this ravine, boxing in their enemies allow them to be surrounded. 

“Take them!” Caim yelled vanishing into the throngs of soldiers. 

Stolas hesitated a moment longer before his tired wings unfurled in all their might, whipping up winds as several dead fathers fluttered to the ground. 

“Thou shalt be well.” He whispered. 

The battle raged endlessly. For every one of his kin he struck down two returned for retribution. His limbs were painted red, no hint of gold nor white to be seen under the blood; his own and that of his siblings. 

“Left flank!” he screamed, diving to the failing line, tucking his wings to create and spin and raising his sword, taking the head clean off an advancing soldier. He landed heavily and took up a stance.

“Hold! Thy must not give! Steel thy minds!” 

The flagging soldiers grouped together, drawing more of their brothers and sisters from the battlefield at his command. A blade sliced his leg and he fell to one knee yet still he fought, his mind a haze of blood, heat, screams and dirty armour. Gravity held no meaning as he flew, slicing his enemies from the skies, his screams descending from bellows of war to avian shrieks. 

The battle waged on for days. 

But the rebellion drove God’s slaves back.

For every one that was defeated no more came with blades in hand, mountains of corpses became their foundation as the last of the enemy fell at his flank. 

“Finish this!” he screeched.

While his soldiers descended, Stolas, panting and wounded, a hand gripping his leg, surveyed the field. The front flank was still in deep combat, the first contact point. Not allowing himself a moment to breath he cried out in exertion and took to the skies, darting through those final forces to reach to the front flank. The golden armour of their elders shone even through the grime as they cut through the rebellion with practiced ease, faces like stone. They knew the day was not theirs but would do all they could before retreating. Two took to the skies returning to Father, one remained engaged with three smaller soldiers, finishing one by stabbing a blade through her throat. 

Stolas pushed himself hard. Closer. 

The second roared with anger and tried to tackle the elder angel who neatly stepped to the side and swung his blade down. An arch of crimson flew into the sky and the angel crumpled. 

Harder. Closer.

The final angel was more careful, fighting with strategy but he was still outmatched, a blow from the elder angel’s fist saw his helm fly into the sky yet his outspread wings refused to bend.

Caim. 

“Slave!” he dove forward, bashing his shield at the elder’s fist, blade shooting forward and sinking deep into an exposed shoulder. The elder angel shook the space around them in his anger, staggering Caim and smashing him to the ground. He raised his foot and stomped upon each glorious wing, crippling them, smashing bone, bending them unrecognisably.

“NO!” Stolas screamed, the path to his brother made fuzzy by his own tears. 

The elder angel raised its enormous blade. 

Hurry!

And thrust it into Caim’s back. 

The angel’s body jerked before shuddering and falling still.

The elder angel took to the sky.

Stolas crashed onto the corpse littered ground, more blood coating his already saturated body, and crawled to his brother. 

“Caim!? CAIM!?” he rolled the angel over, resting his head in his lap. His eyes were dim, but open, a trickle of blood spilling over his lips. 

“S-”

“Don’t speak. I shan’t y-”

Stolas sobs rendered him incoherent as he bent over his brother, holding him close, desperate to feel those strong hands cradling him to safety once more. 

“Shh.” Caim whispered, Stolas only able to hear due to supporting him as he was. 

“Caim, Caim. Thou canst leave me. My brother I beg thee, please please please.”

A limp hand rose and clumsily rubbed Stolas’s cheek. He clutched it tight and continued to beg, to plead. Ready to throw himself upon Father’s mercy for Caim. 

“Stolas,” he whispered. 

“I am here. Brother I am here. Do not leave, stay with me!”

“T-” Caim coughed, blood spurting from his mouth to hit Stolas’, covering his cheek, an eye, even his own mouth. 

“W-what? Brother!?”

“Thou… shalt, be well.” 

His hand felt to the ground, and Caim breathed his last. 

“No.” Stolas sobbed, each breath a battle to take in as he shook Caim’s body, “Come back, Brother please!” he yelled, hitching and retching as he tried to beg more. His cries turned to incoherent burbling as screams continued around them. Nothing mattered. How could it now?

A body fell from the sky, smashing into him and throwing him from Caim, rolling him onto his back, his hazy gaze now skyward, a figure visible. 

The elder angel.

Stolas’ chest heaved with his cries, his face wet with blood and streaked with tears. His mouth curled into a snarl at the sight of the monster. The slave! The murder!

A fury unlike he’d ever experienced filled his body, darkness spilling from his mouth, his blue eyes turning red from blood, rage and hatred. He flew into the sky, screeching for revenge. His speed took the elder angel by surprise and his blade sunk into the monster’s leg. 

The elder angel spun, wordlessly grabbing Stolas by the throat, his grip crushing, and yanked him upwards. Stolas stared into his expressionless face, saw the blade rise-

He pulled the dagger from his back and plunged it into the elder angel’s eye.

The elder angel reared back and Stolas dove forward, his hands now talons he plunged them over and over into the golden angel’s face, tearing it to shreds as they both fell to the corpse littered ground. He hacked at the other till there was nothing left and screamed to the heavens. 

The other two elder angels descended. 

One struck his wings, their sword so sharp it cut them off in one fell blow. The pain of their loss stilled his anger and his screeched in pain. The other took its blade in both hands. Stolas couldn’t move, the pain, the rage. 

Caim. 

The blade swung low. 

-----------------------------------------

Stolas started up in bed, panting and sweaty. The darkness around him was still. Stella slept on, her quiet breathing all he could hear over his own ragged inhales. His limbs shook as he threw back the little of the sheets still covering his naked form. Rising from the bed, he staggered into the bathroom and ran the tap, splashing freezing water onto his face. His clean face. His shaky leg held him up because there was no injury there now. He sunk onto the toilet and put his head in both hands quiet breathing his only sound anyone would hear. 

It had taken months, but he’d learned how to cry in silence.        

Sleep wouldn’t come anymore tonight. 

He left the bathroom and wandered the halls of his palace, arriving at another bedroom he closed the door and reached for a phone. Stolas dialled the number he knew by heart and, thankfully, a groggy voice picked up the other end.

“Good evening my most gorgeous and well-endowed Blitzy.” He cooed, voice steady and low. 

“What does time matter in the face of passion, my darling? Do come and entertain me, I’ll make it worth your while.” he chuckled.

He waited through a huffed reply.

“Ten minutes, I’ll make myself ready.” He promised, putting the phone down. 

The mask fell as quickly as he’d pulled it up, his expression now pensive, almost fearful as Stolas walked to the balcony of the room. He looked up at the hell’s sky, the red moon.

Blood-red.

He turned away, retreating into the darkness. 

A hand came to rest at his cheek, rubbing the spot gently. 

“Thou shalt be well.” He whispered, sniffing as a final tear fell from the tip of his beak.         

[grey-eyed-menace]

With hope so fragile, so quiet and scared, that it's already long shattered. The pieces digging into her soft heart like fiberglass, hurting, aching, Uri doesn't want to take his hand.

She doesn't, but his hand is still held out, and his smile is so heartbreakingly gentle, so sincere, that Urisha can't help but grab onto it, with both of her hands, and squeeze, stumbling forward with wide eyes.

And, for the first time that she can really remember, someone catches her, pressing her close to their chest, arms wound tight, as though afraid she'd disappear, lips against her temple, and they whisper comfort into her ear with little hesitation.

Uri buries her nose in the crook of his neck, shoulders shaking as the first sob begins to make it's way out of her throat. Ugly and sharp, it's more a wail than anything else, but still... It's hers.

It's the first moment of the rest of her life, a new beginning, but, for the first hour or so, it feels so unbelievably unbearable that all Uri can bring herself to do is cry.

Hope has never felt so unimaginably painful before, and, she wonders, quietly, if this means she was ever really meant for it.

If it meant something as flawed and ugly as her deserved to exist, if something as beautiful as even hope could scare her into submission.

[Uri remembers the first, and only, time she went to her mother for anything resembling comfort, she remembers the pain it brought, the despair, the fear.

She remembers the burn of alcohol on the woman's breath, the dig of her nails, the venom in her voice. Uri remembers it as the only time the woman called her anything other than 'Girl' or 'Darling Urisha'.

She remembers the tears, hot and ugly that pricked her eyes after everything was said, after everything Alara told her, after being told she was nothing.

...Uri doesn't have many more memories of her mother after that incident, she doesn't think she'd want more if she's honest.]

(Uri loved Azazel as a child, so frighteningly innocent in her admiration and want to remain by his side.

Azazel had treated her more like a particularly amusing puppy, she realized now, and when she stopped amusing him he threw her to the side, uninterested in playing the father figure to a little girl who's only real achievement was being able to jury-rig rudimentary spells.)

{Uri thinks she might have been some sort of suicidal the first time she tried to kill Vali, tried to strangle him because he had made one too many tactless comments about how her sister put up more of a fight than she probably ever had.

She remembers tackling him to the ground, she remembers screaming and kicking, biting and scratching.

She remembers being thrown into the adjacent wall hard enough to leave an indent, she remembers diving for his throat not long after.

More than anything, Uri remembers that Vali's the only person who's never called her anything other than Uri, she also knows she's probably one of the only people who's wanted his head on a silver platter for anything other his title as Albion's champion.

Uri thinks she would have hated him for the simple fact that his mother loved him.}

"You can stay here for as long as you want," Nero offers, softly, fingers running through her hair with obvious affection, "for as long as you need, you don't have to hide, we won't hurt you."

Uri can only latch on tighter, bury herself deeper in his embrace as he quietly mumbles soothing words, sobs still wracking her small frame.

It doesn't escape her that he hasn't offered her a place in his Peerage, he's offering her genuine protection, an official education, something...

Maybe a family?

She... doesn't know how that works. Family. Not really.

Alara was a shit mother, always more obsessed with her status as the mother of the bastard Mammon, the useless little girl who hadn't brought her the protection and riches that her visions that said she would. The useless drunk of a Seer who hit and verbally tore apart little girls whenever she didn't get something she wanted.

Evectus was completely absent, wholed up in some mansion in the Underworld swearing beyond all reason that she deserved to have her head mounted on a pike for simply being born to a woman who was crazy enough to fuck him.

Azazel was interested in playing the role of a father for all of seven months before he found her rivalry, (Vali's childish want), with his actual investment more amusing. His words always lilted towards his own benefit, treating her more like a brainless puppy than someone with an actual self-worth beyond 'Please Love Me!' and all the bullshit that entailed.

Vali wanted just as many things from her as others, but his were always more personal, more hard-headed, less obvious, Vali wanted such childish things from her, such childish little things that... Uri sometimes, could entertain the idea of looking up to him as an older brother. Could sometimes allow herself to indulge in those childish wants when they still just... wants of a child, the bone crushing hugs, the assurance that someone cared about him beyond his status as a Longinus user, sleeping with someone who wouldn't leave as soon as morning came, who wouldn't use him for Albion.

[Uri could never quite bring herself to believe in things about people loving her beyond what she could bring to the table, could never quite find it in herself to look Vali in eye after one to many truths had been revealed.]

____________

And this is where I ran out of ideas!

[grey-eyed-menace]

"...are you sure?" Sona pressed, crossing her arms with a sigh.

Nero pressed a hand to his face, shaky and overwhelmed, he held his ground, quietly, closing his eyes, "You have a younger brother, Sylvanus, right?"

"Yes, I do not see how that is relevant though."

"It's relevant in the fact that the Sitri and Gremory have a larger chance of mixing their talents agreeably, the powers that reside within the Phenex Pillar tend to either remain absent in most hybrid offspring, or completely dominant when they do appear, if Zeoticus wants strong, unique, offspring then he'll take Sylvanus's bid over Riser's."

"Mt brother is twelve, Stolas. He views Rias as another older sister, not a bride."

"Which is exactly why it will work out, and if Riser demands a Rating game, then he has enough connections to have a fully outfitted, and greatly effective, Peerage in less then twenty-four hours."

Sona aimed a displeased glare onto him, "And you can't do the same?"

"I respect Iryuka's input in all matters greatly," he hissed, voice low, and shoulders rigid as he took a deep breath, "she is to be my other half one day, and I will not slight her by demanding another woman's hand without first informing her of the situation, or talking it over at length."

"Rias is your friend."

"And I hate this situation just as much as you, but the Stolas and Glasyas-Labolyas have too much at stake with mine and Iryuka's own engagement to justify nullifying it, we would be having a very different conversation if the opposite were the case."

[grey-eyed-menace]

Okay, so, here's my list of DXD OC's.

These Pureblooded Devils that have their own Peerages before canon, and or will be given their Evil Piece sets after a certain time, (Reus Paimon gains his a week or so after canon would start, for refrence, Milicas Gremory, in the context of this AU, is the human equivalent of seven-ish, and thus won't gain his Evil Pieces until Issei himself is about twenty-three).

The absolute oldest Devil OC's with their own Peerages and of Pureblooded lines are as follows.

Rhea Phenex - The sibling born after Ravul Phenex and before Riser and Ravel. In possession of eleven Peerage members, not counting herself, at the start of canon. Inherited her father's Phenex talents. Currently hunting down her ex-Queen turned Rogue, Hilda Mammon.

Quille & Fleur Amon - Rivali Amon's twin children, and most definitely NOT Sirzechs spawn, no, seriously, the actual father will gut you over this misconception. Brutally. [Take a lucky guess...?]

Hadvard Marchosias - An upcoming Rating Game prodigy, and Rhea's sworn rival. Only has four Peerage members at the start of canon. Inherited his Abaddon mother's ability for portals.

Argent Oriax - The original heir of the Oriax Pillar. However an incident with the church that resulted in three of his original canidates for his Peerage dying, and having to resurrect fifteen dying children, made him resign his right to inherit. Is the older twin to Acier Oriax. He inherited his mother's Phenex talents.

Acier Oriax - Feyre's elder sister, and Argent's younger twin, was, is, a frail young woman. Gave up her right to inherit the title of Heiress of Oriax after a particularly bad bout of sickness destroyed her chances at gaining an engagement with the Bael family. In possession of six Peerage members at the start of canon. She inherited the Oriax gift of prophecy.

Relv Seere - Rhea Phenex's best friend and only ally in the act of chasing down Hilda Mammon. Inherited a strange mixture of his Belphegor mothers Crack and his father's Earth affinity. Has a single Peerage member by canon.

The younger half of this generation, (A.K.A. Rias and Sona's childhood 'playmates'), are as follows.

Feyre Oriax - Focal King of the AU, a very 'Go-With-The-Flow' type of personality, and a bit thickheaded on certain matters, he has a Fire Affinity when it comes to Magic, and inherited the Oriax gift of Prophecy. Has a fully outfitted Peerage by canon.

Yvette Kamiris - The elder sister of Venessa Kamiris and the acting heiress of the Kamiris family. Currently wishes to cut her father into microscopic pieces. Has refused to outfit her Peerage in understandable disgust with the practice due to her and Venessa's status as their fathers Bishop and Pawn, respectively.

Kasier Paimon - The younger brother of Fowler Paimon and the older brother of Reus Paimon. Trying rather desperately to get his shit together in the face of Urisha smashing his brothers skull against a brick wall. Very much terrified of the woman, and supremely grateful. Is currently sending gift baskets every other week because of this. Has a single Pawn by canon.

Tyr Beleth - Yvel's elder brother. A doting man, but noticeably out of touch with his younger siblings feelings on their father, who, while loving and caring towards him, was little more than dismissive and emotionally abusive to the rest of his children. Has four Peerage Members as of Canon.

Aurum Stolas - May or may not have relations with a hellborne mercenary company that he's currently trying to recruit into his peerage... Nonetheless, the young lord of the Stolas clan. His only notable Peerage member, his Queen, Estella Tobias, is said to scare the ever loving fuck out of Serafall Leviathan, which is saying something.

Zena Zepar - One of the numerous Zepar siblings, and the legal Heir, but not the favored, amongst Lord Esard's children. Currently wondering if she can get away with snapping and slaughtering her entire family. Is probably Nacht's only ally in his conquest for revenge. Has a fully outfitted Peerage purely for protections sake.

Esrid Shax - An ally of Feyre, Sona, and Rias. A sweet, if deeply disturbed even by Devil standards, young woman. Has one Peerage member, a Queen, by the time of canon.

Isa Uvall - Minor rating game player, has a fully outfitted Peerage by canon.

Justina Dantalion - One of Feyre's most staunch allies in Underworld politics, a very headstrong young woman, but has a playful and cunning side that typically comes into play with those she's close. Has a Knight and three pawns by canon. Is noted to have murdered her elder brother alongside her husband. The only part of this generation who jumped on her fianceè at the first available opportunity to get married. Was a Kamiris before marriage.

Kaye Dantalion - A very powerful empath, and a faithful ally of Feyre's in Underworld politics. Has a Queen, a Bishop, and two Rooks by the time of canon. Is noted to have murdered Rivea Kamiris alongside his before they married. Has only ever had eyes for his wife, but was a bit dense before realizing, that yes, she did return those feelings. Is one of the few males of his generation generally disinterested in anything to do with a Harem.

Adril Valac - Feyre, Acier, and Argent's cousin through their aunt Zilver. And the youngest amongst this batch of heirs. A somewhat strange girl who inherited the Oriax gift of prophecy, has a fully outfutted Peerage by the time of canon.

The youngest Pureblooded Devils in possession, or about to gain, their Peerages.

Sylvanus Sitri - Serafall and Sona's younger brother in this AU, he gains his Evil Piece set shortly before the Rating Game with Riser, and throws his lot in with Venessa Kamiris and Nacht Zepar and gains partial rights to oversee París alongside them as a show of trust from the European factions. Quietly watches the Miraculous Ladybug plot unfold alongside Ven and Nacht while quietly whispering 'What The Fuck' to himself all the while.

Venessa Kamiris - A very... Skittish young woman, was largely confined to the Kamiris Main Estate until both of her brothers, Johann and Hadrian, decided to fuck off to hell knows where with the latter of which trying to kill her by setting her bed on fucking fire the night he left. Is currently being courted by Nacht Zepar via very obscure ways. Which, uh, may or may not directly cater to her interests? Only has a Bishop by the time the trio takes over Paris.

Wylla Vapula - The eldest of this third of the generation.

Kell Gremory - Rias and Sirzechs younger half-brother, born of Zeoticus Gremory and Marita Esall a low-rank Devil. Gains an Evil Piece set after his fourteenth birthday when Zeoticus sees promise in his developing talents. He gains his first Pawn, Noir Schmidt, shortly before Issei and Asia become third-years. Notably bitter about the favoritism, (and is the person to deliver the ultimatum of the scheduling turmoil on Issei), but does genuinely come to love Rias as an older sister once she begins to mentor him.

Ferrum Oriax - Feyre, Acier, and Argent's younger half-brother, sired by a member of their fathers Peerage. He becomes relevant later. Like... Much later. He's kind of an infant at the start of canon. And also being kept on the downlow.

Quinn Decarabia - Who the fuck knows? The Decarabia heir/ess. Was mentioned once on a scrapped scene. Probably has a Lightning affinity.

Cordelia Murmur - Is actually the adopted human daughter of Lord and Lady Murmur, that, however, has not stopped her from bullshitting her way into the inner circle of a New Satan Faction. IS in way over her head, very much gunning for a spot in Lord Zeoticus's harem. You know. For political sanctuary. Honestly, the poor girl is probably going to out gambit herself at some point.

Nacht Zepar - One of the many Zepar siblings, currently trying to murder his father for killing his mother. Courting Venessa Kamiris.

Reus Paimon - Probably the most well-adjusted Devil of his entire generation.

[phoenixtakaramono]

Author’s Note: ...I did not realize till now that I must have forgotten to post the sneak-peek I’d uploaded on my twitter to here. Whoops, my mistake. (Link to ch1-2 P&B on AO3 is in my tumblr profile, but please keep in mind ch2 is 🔞. It’s a What-If Stolitz AU where Blitzo is powerful and is essentially invited to join the Ars Goetia family as a baron.)

A Prince and His Baron - Ch3 Preview IV

Spinning on his feet, Stolas stalked toward the balcony, keeping his tread as silent as possible. He smiled as he edged closer, pushing the doors open slowly, thoroughly enjoying the hunt in a way he hadn't for a long time.

A familiar voice drifted into his hearing.

“—you tell that animatronic clown no deal.” Blitzø was hissing into his—burner?—phone.

The assassin was glowering at the estate grounds. He was crouched by the balusters, his tail swinging back and forth agitatedly.

Having heard a noise, he’d shot a sharp look over his shoulder. One hand had slipped under his coat.

When he saw the noise came from somebody he recognized, the tension in Blitzø’s arm automatically loosened and his grip released from a pistol that had been cinched to his leather holster. Leveling Stolas with an apologetic look, he held up one claw.

Stolas understood the universal sign. Give me a minute.

Turning his face away, Blitzø spoke into his phone, “Ain’t no pay worth dealing with that crazy.”

Stolas’ interest was piqued.

Although the imp had yet to be conferred a title of nobility, he was of such a position where others couldn’t swear openly and talk behind his back without fearing retribution. Despite rebuking the demon on the other side of the line, Blitzø’s voice lacked heat.

Listening to the reply, after a while Blitzø interjected, “That’s a heaping pile of fuck no juice right there.”

Crouched on his haunches, Blitzø made for a strange but arresting sight on his balcony. The long dark coat was draped over Blitzø’s shoulders, as though he’d had every intention of pulling his arms through the sleeves—before his motion had been interrupted by a call. The fabric fanned out behind him on the glittering stone surface, reminding Stolas of a black hole consuming a nebula.

Stolas’ gaze trailed appreciatively down the imp’s figure, over the protruding spikes and down the curve of his spine. It was strange, but seeing his back was like a siren’s call. Stolas’ talons itched with the need to reach out and touch.

His talons had already been stretched out midway before he realized what he’d been about to do. Retracting his hand, to curtail the impulse, he strode over to the balusters. Both elbows were planted on the handrail, his talons clasped loosely together as he gazed not at the grounds of his property—but at the handsome assassin he’d slept with yesternight.

His sudden proximity had earned him a nasty side-eyed glance—which Stolas returned with an innocuous, broad smile—but they both knew, even with the confidentiality of Blitzø’s phone call, Blitzø would not tell Stolas to fuck off.

The Owl Demon, a Great Prince of Hell and commander of twenty-six legions, was of the Ars Goetia family. Nobody could tell an infernal member of the Ars Goetia royal peerage to “fuck off” unless they too belonged to high society or they’d thought extremely highly of themselves. Depending on which demon it was said to, the latter usually resulted in deaths or in their request being ignored.

Had Stolas wanted to, he could have turned Blitzø to stone. He could have ended his life in a myriad of ways, from flinging him into a black hole to executing him publicly for any perceived “great insult.” The fact Blitzø was still here, alive and welcomed, was a testament of Stolas’ goodwill towards him. Indulging his request for ennoblement, in return for a night of passion, was a measurement of his regard and favor.

And the fact that there hadn’t been an attempt on Stolas’ life or his family, when Stolas had given him plenty of openings last night when he’d been at his most defenseless, was an insight into Blitzø’s code of conduct. As the founder of I.M.P., he had curated a reputation of being efficient and ruthless. But last night, he had made it his mission to make Stolas see stars.