Pride calling Sam “the Boy King” in 3x1 The Magnificent Seven implies that Sam was a child when he was established as the King of Hell--only unaware of the fact. Azazel ruled Hell in his place until he would “came of age” essentially in the Battle of the Special Children. This makes Azazel the Prince Regent or perhaps even a Mother Dowager. Sam’s position as King of Hell is further solidified by his endorsement by Lucifer as his true vessel.
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For the drabble thing: hellhounds can smell azazels blood in sam and so they won't attack him and get very confused when he runs away from them
Hex likes the boy, small and lanky under the over-large clothes, hands in his pockets, shivering. And he smells like home.
It's cold up here, so far from hell. Some hunter exorcised his master three days ago, he's been lost since. The boy isn't the only one shivering.
His paws leave imprints in the snow as he approaches, slow and sniffing at the homelike scent of the boy strengthening with each step he takes toward him.
He doesn't really want anything, perhaps a pat, maybe some shelter, ideally a new master. It occurs to him that the boy won't mock him so much— they're both small.
Ice cracks under his excited, clumsy left paw and the boy startles, jerks his head up, pulls a knife out of the pocket of his bag and looks around, wary.
Hex half expects to be whipped for getting lost so he holds still, crouches down and flattens his ears back, tucks his tail between his legs, shivering even more when it brushes the snow. He whimpers a little, scared.
The boy whips toward the sound and stares right at him, then shakes his head, huffs out a miserable laugh, and puts the knife back in his pocket.
Heartened, Hex steps toward him again and more ice cracks under his paw. The boy frowns, backs off, and hurries away.
Hex hasn't seen him in years and then there he is again in Texas, leaning against a large black car, fanning himself with a magazine in the pleasant late-July weather. Hex knows him by scent: under the salty sweat he is almost homelike and something more.
Hex stands up and stretches himself, reluctantly leaves his warm spot, and ambles over to the man.
And once again, he startles. Straightens, pulls a gun out, and shoots. His aim is off by a foot and Hex takes a confused step back, head tilting to the side as he wonders what he's done wrong. He killed the woman he was supposed to, he's just waiting for his master to come back. He barks a little, gentle and questioning and the man shoots again, running backwards.
The third time Hex doesn't even go near him. He smells less like home and looks at him with so much hate, it scares him.
He hasn't been scared since he was a puppy, lost, the first time he saw him.
The man looks at him, and in a fit of needless, bored anger, snaps his fingers. He dies slow, burning cold.
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I think the Bradleys are unintentionally the funniest part of fmab. Wrath is the leader of a country but King is his first name, not his title. His adopted ten year old son is actually at least 350 years old and his oldest brother. Mrs. Bradley somehow seems unaware that her son does not age or get injured. Pride is so scary and fucked up that even other homunculi don't like him, but he apparently goes to school like a normal little boy and writes essays on how cool and awesome his dad is. Wrath and Pride both hate humans but they both agree that Mrs. Bradley is pretty great. When they die, Wrath ages several decades in like seconds, and Pride gets turned into a fetus. What the fuck is up with them
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