Chapter Text
"My darling Stella."
You smile, extending a hand out as the demon bowed. The smile feels false, just as you know the gesture he gives you is fake.
Neither of you want to be at the dinner, neither of you wanted to be in the same room as each other, but you put on the dress, put on the smile, and you pretend.
It's a game of chess and you want to play it with someone who understands you. You had hoped, maybe, that you and he could play the game together. But he pulled away from you whenever he got a chance, his eyes always darting somewhere else.
"Stolas." You incline your head, letting Stolas take your hand as you walk -maybe a little faster than was necessarily polite, but you wanted people to stop looking at you and twittering under their hands- through the room and take your place at your table.
Stolas hesitates only briefly before he pulls his hand from yours and pulls out your chair. You graciously take a seat, settling your skirts and picking up the menu. The selection wasn't very varied and you quickly set the menu down, seeing Stolas hesitating to sit down.
He takes his seat when he notices his glance, adjusting the chair and clearing his throat. It's awkward, but you promised to keep it to just these two, prior to the marriage. You had no desire to be part of this game, but you squash down the ember of anger, remembering how it had harmed you in the past.
It felt like a fire in your chest some days and you let your temper slip. You lashed out and you were scolded for it. The scorch marks on your hands weren't the important damage. Over the years, you had learned how to channel the anger into other methods and the fire had been dampened.
He had always been one to keep to himself, declining any and every invite he could weasel his way out of. You were jealous that he was able to skip events, using his studies as his excuses. You held that same desire, but instead you were waltz around like a prize to be shown off.
And it made you angry, over time.
You felt humiliated when Stolas first made the public announcement. He hadn't eased up on the drinking, not that you noticed, the entire event and when it came time to speak, he had fumbled through his speech. It made you turn and storm off, not even caring anymore.
You had seen the flash of Paimon even before you made it to another room to hide. The worst part was you were unsure who you were more frustrated at. You were humiliated to hear Stolas fumble through the speech, but you should have ignored it instead of reacted.
But what did it matter, when most people would point to your rage issue and dismiss anything you had to say? The fire that curled in your chest didn't care about images or personas you had to keep up in your society. You had to be perfect.
You straighten yourself up, drying your eyes and clearing your throat. You drag the sleeve of your glove across your eyes, and spent time straightening your hair. You were in a storage closet, but you didn't care. You would not be humiliated again.
You had strode out of the closet, letting the anger spark in you eyes. You played your part, as you ease into the crowd, accepting the few comments people offered and you realize, as you speak to your society, that Stolas is nowhere to be seen.
So you lay down the first beginnings of an idea. You could control the narrative, give yourself the one crumb of power you could scrape out and you could use Stolas's position to your gain. So you give in to the comments, laughing loudly and using your fire to control the script.
And so you had specifically requested this restaurant, knowing that Stolas would be hard press to get out of it. It would be the proper engagement, the final step towards the wedding and your bonds. You smile at him, listening to his few halting attempts at conversation.
You replied where you thought useful, trying to prod Stolas along in conversation. He finally fell silent and you gave up, ordering something simple for yourself and watching as he stumbled over a selection, finally going with the first thing he could finish speaking.
You smile at him, shifting in your seat. And prepare yourself for a dull lunch.
And so it continued. When the pair of your were in front of others, Stolas was stiff and standoffish. When you were alone, he was uncertain and distant.
You spent the first nine months of the marriage trying to find anything to get Stolas interested in you. But your interests were mismatched and you felt yourself fray at the edges.
You still shared a room, but Stolas would leave halfway through the night and you'd find him asleep on his office couch in the mornings.
You asked, once, if he wanted separate bedrooms, but he had just stares at you. After a moment, he shakes his head and mutters something about how it's fine, he just... likes to do work in the middle of the night.
You tried to ask him questions about his work, see if there was something you could help him in. Astrology wasn't a high interest of yours, but your closer circle of friends were deep into star charts. You try to ask him about that kind of nonsense and he had just commented on how it was childish to believe star charts to such a degree.
You try to find out things he likes to drink, but he eyes you suspiciously and you always find the drinks untouched. So you gave up trying to get close to him.
You felt abandoned in trying to figure things out and it made the anger spark in a way you hadn't felt.
The worst humiliation was when Stolas commented that the pair of you should produce an heir so it can be over and done with. You honestly had clung to the one last shred of hope that Stolas would let it slide until he was more comfortable with the relationship.
You jerked your chin up, eyes gleaming but you slowly nod in agreement, shuddering at what your next few years may be like.
Honestly, you're grateful that the egg comes quickly. You can distance yourself from Stolas and the idea of having to touch anyone for a long time. And there's a nagging guilt that you feel this elation. You look down at the child that you had produced and you want to weep.
You wonder, briefly, as your hand reaches out to touch the egg, what the child would be like and you hope you haven't failed them already.
But the freedom does make you feel relieved. You're free and it only came at the cost of a child that wouldn't understand what was going on.
And you do try, as Octavia grows up. There's something missing between you, that first time the egg hatched. You felt profoundly changed by having become a parent and you felt terrified. But Stolas was already calling for the servants, striding from the room and you... were pushed to the side as imps scurried about to take care of your child.
And maybe the relief was chewed on by doubt, as well, as you watch the imps care for Octavia. You wouldn't be tasked with having to care for a newborn. The staff would handle it fine and you didn't have to worry. But a part of you aches because you feel the urge to push the imps aside and care for Octavia yourself, but it wouldn't be proper of a Goetia.
So you hold tea parties. You invite friends over and move on with your life, as if you don't have a worry in the world. You feel your anger die a little, each time you had to shave a piece of yourself off to fit into the role that you were meant to be.
You were abandoned in the relationship and you are abandoned in parenthood.
Even giving Stolas what he wanted hadn't endured him to you.
The world felt a little colder after that and your bond with Octavia felt broken. But you tried your best, as she grows up.
The three of you go on days out, pretending to be the perfect family. You have your parents meet Octavia, and for once they almost look proud of you. You feel like you've made something of yourself, as you interact with society. This is a place you can work and it's a place that men couldn't penetrate.
So you're a little crueler than you used to be about Stolas, because you could never give him what he wanted.
And you delight in withdrawing any and all physical touch from Stolas. Your skin finally feels like it's stopped crawling and you don't want to vomit any time someone touches you too long. You get to be comfortable in your own skin and Stolas is happy to leave you alone.
You wanted to ask him once, if he felt as repulsed by touch as you did or if it was just you he hated. But you never got the courage to. And you'd drifted too far apart by this point in you seeing a point in trying to reach out to him.
It's easier, getting to really know Octavia when she's older. Stolas hasn't been paying much attention to her since she hit her teen years, mumbling something vague about it being a woman's place and that makes you growl under your breath.
But it's fun, getting to know Octavia and there's a lost piece of you that returns. There's an ache that eases as you find someone that you can talk with.
You always enjoy hearing about the fun taxidermy Via has gotten recently, or a newer band that she enjoys. Once, she showed you some plants she was growing but then she got quiet, like she hadn't meant to mention it. You didn't press and she never really explained.
But you support her when you can and you ensure that she is safe from any plans from the family. the other Goetia may laugh at Stolas, but they were terrified of you. You'd run the gambit with the women of your society and you knew exactly who or what to threaten. This is how you protect Octavia through her teen years.
You listen to your brother call you vapid, as you gossip, but you don't listen. You've had it confirmed that Andrealphus has been sleeping with Vassago for favorable judgements. You were also certain that neither of them knew their secret was out. You had made an empire out of learning to gossip and demean that he would never understand.
Your daughter was not to be fucked with and everyone knew it.
But that all cracked when the imp came bounding out of Stolas's window screaming how he was sorry he fucked your husband.
Your image is completely shattered by the announcement of the divorce.