Chapter Text
promising grown man
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Paimon’s palace was a creepy, arcane estate made of ancient stones, trees twisted into arched doorways that seemed older than Hell itself, and fabric that must have been woven and faded and replaced hundreds of times since the king had established the dwelling. Currently, they were in a state nearing tatters; strange for such an otherwise pristine home. How old everything felt was what always washed over Andrealphus when his heels went from clicking on the marble entryway tiles to the plush purples of the hallway runners that ran down the long, dimly lit corridors. That was another curiosity – it was always so dark here. Whether to hide mysteries, misdeeds, or simply for practical reasons the peacock didn’t know, but it always left a chill crawling up his already frigid spine.
It was the marquis’ third visit since moving to his own palace in Pride; one made of crystal and ice, and it suited him much better than this one or his prior home. Yet, some part of his heart hoped that Paimon would see him fit someday to be tucked into one of those lavish rooms down one of the dark hallways; the place he kept all of his long-term consorts – dozens of lovers, if his numerous children were to be believed – bestowing them heirs and treasures and status.
Stella’s proposed marriage arrangement was still a year away, and he had time to make himself… what his father called “useful for their purposes”, though he could only imagine what Paimon would want with someone of his age and skills. Thus far, every time he visited, the king of dark forms merely sat him at a nearby table while he worked, his servants setting Andrealphus up with a station that had measurement tools and books.
It was… not what he expected, when his father said he was here to “be pretty” and spoke of him being tired of his whores. Yet nothing of the sort his mind had imagined had manifested since he started visiting, only amicable visits and discussions of his talents for geometry, calculations, and his gifts of ice along with brief conversations pertaining to his sister were ever had.
It put him at ease knowing that either his father had been exaggerating, or he was found to be more useful in his other demonic abilities instead.
Or so he had thought, until today when he entered Paimon’s study only to find it… different. Paimon’s desk was the same as always – a grand, dark-colored piece of furniture that overwhelmed the already massive room. Behind the desk were bookshelves lining the walls, each made of the same rich wood tones as the desk but bent in hue and saturation by the tomes and books that sat upon each one.
Swirling patterns were embroidered on every hanging tapestry, and on the filigree of the carved front of the desk. A glass chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling to mere feet above the center of the room where the desk resided; and before there had been a second, smaller one nearby in a lofted section behind he had taken up his work at. Where the desk normally sat there was now a daybed with beautiful silk and brocade pillows lined along purple cushions set into that same rich, dark wood.
Stepping into the study, Andrealphus glanced curiously at the King, coming forward to bow low as he always did upon entering. “Your grace.”
“Ah, An– Uh–” The king’s beady eyes darted sideways where a short imp stood, the little creature’s eyes were closed as he held a tray with two teacups, a teapot, along with a bowl of sugar and two little stirring spoons.
“Andrealphus.” The butler answered, eyes never opening and his position unwavering next to the king.
“Yes, yes, Andrealphus! That’s right. I thought it would be nice to get to know you a little better, I’ve got tea my little imp here will set up for us. Does that sound good to you?”
Andrealphus stood back to his full height, glancing between the butler and the king, then back to the daybed. It was the only reasonable place they could take it, but it also seemed an odd choice to have tea on a couch.
“Of course, your majesty. I would be honored.”
“Wonderful! Come, come.” Paimon stood, pushing his chair out behind him and drifting silently up the stairs; one shadowy hand grazing the golden railing that encircled the curved steps leading to the lofted area above. The imp followed five steps behind, quite precisely, the peacock noted. If Paimon so much as paused, the imp immediately ceased movement, watching closely until the king sat on one side of the elaborate setup.
Andrealphus trailed up the other set of semi-circle stairs, leading to the opposite side of the daybed. It was only when he got to the top that he saw that there were low tables setup on either side, a spread of cookies and pastries on each one. When Paimon was situated, he waved for the younger demon to join him, then snapped his finger for the imp to serve them.
The furniture was decently wide, enough that Andrealphus could sit next to the king with space between them, though there wasn’t enough that another Goetia could fit on the piece of furniture. When the butler had served the tea; first giving an elegant pour to Paimon’s glass then coming around to set down and fill one for the marquis, the king snapped his fingers again and the imp retreated down the stairs and out the study door, leaving them alone.
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Andrealphus wasn’t sure what to expect when the doors of the study closed, a sudden touch? To be pushed over and fucked within an inch of his life? It definitely wasn’t the cooing little giggle and small talk the King struck up, offering his porcelain cup so they could clink them together like they were best friends at a tea party. It was… odd. Almost comforting; to not be alone and having a conversation that didn’t revolve around Stella or marriage or political plotting, for once.
Paimon was back to gossiping about the other royals, going on about how a Duke had embarrassed himself at a gala; getting drunk and then showing up at a council meeting the next morning with an embarrassing proposal.
“And then the bloody idiot bowed to a president, a fucking president, Andy.”
Andrealphus froze, trying to hide his shudder at the name behind a pleasant smile as he continued sipping his tea. “Oh? Is that so?”
“See, I knew you would understand, what a bloody idiot. Your father has done quite a remarkable job, he told me all about your brilliance. I do hope you can be a positive role model for Stolas, he is quite… cooped up. He’s got a touch of that melancholy, always going on about how lonely he is. But you don’t seem to have that problem, and you’ve been alone for a while, yes?”
Paimon set down his teacup on the side table, picking up a small plate of truffles and cakes and offering it to the peacock. Oddly enough, they were two of his favorites - chocolate raspberry truffles and lemon cakes with cream filling.
“Oh, yes, I do like to keep to myself. And Stella is, ah, very sociable company. She will certainly help him get out of his… Shell. And she’ll make a great mother and wife, too, remarkably beautiful.” The words kept spilling out one after the other as he picked at the small plate, grabbing one of each to set on his own saucer, then started slowly nibbling at them properly like his mother had taught him; small bites, leaving no crumbs.
“Mhmm.” The king raised an eyebrow, sniffing and picking up his teacup again. “And what do you do, in your spare time, young one? You’re not on the council yet or up to any real work, I imagine you have lots of free time.”
Andrealphus bristled at that, leaning back in his seat so he could look up at the taller demon, unsure how to properly respond to a question so demeaning. “I… Try to study, prepare, and mentor my sister. It’s a lot of responsibility, and my father has been insistent I stay disciplined.”
Paimon snorted, setting his teacup back down and waving his hand. “Right, right, all that important stuff. How about the circus? Or music? Do you like clowns? I have many children, but so far only two of them like clowns. I find that odd, don’t you?”
Blinking, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the question. The peacock had never had to carry a conversation about interests or hobbies before; only his studies, his responsibilities, sometimes trivia or history for entertaining guests.
“I like, ah, classical music? It’s good for learning and studying.”
Was he really this dull? Perhaps he should read some books, if nothing else to be able to tell the king something interesting. He felt inadequate; a specimen undeserving of the attention of someone as powerful and prestigious as Paimon with his feeble attempts at relating.
“A-and clothes! I like… fashion. The materials and the craftsmanship of it, I mean!”
Shit, he shouldn’t have said that.
“Oh? Paimon’s tiny eyes glowed, and he leaned forward, cupping a dark chin in a darker talon. “Tell me more, I love a good cape. I just had my tailor bring up the hemlines of my favorite silk trousers, I heard that’s in fashion now, yes?”
Andrealphus tilted his head, a smile creeping back onto it. “Well, I heard that only the ruffians are doing that, you know, mischievous princes and such.”
Paimon’s little white pupils went wide, and at first the younger demon thought the king was going to lean forward and smack him. Instead, the narrow little point of his beak flitted open and he chuckled, a little hoot slipping out. “Oh, Andy, we are going to get along splendidly.”
One dark hand came to rest on his shoulder, patting him gently as the king’s face softened. “Would you like to come back tomorrow? You can tell me all about ‘ruffian prince fashion’ while I work on these tiresome proposals.”
“Yes! I mean, of course, your highness. If it pleases you.”
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Paimon didn’t invite him back every day that week, but it was often enough that Andrealphus found himself spending his evenings listening to music, reading books and gossiping with Stella to try to get more interesting stories to share. That became the shared language between them, a mischievous glint in those red eyes would tip him off and Andrealphus would start singing it back like a songbird, always to those approving hoots.
The dark king had just finished a chorus of giggles when the marquis endeavored to broach the subject of the request in his father’s latest letter– sussing out whether or not Paimon still held any doubts over the lingering unification of their families.
“How are the marriage preparations coming along then? It isn’t that long now, right?” Andrealphus sipped at the warm liquid, his pinky turned out just so in a display of exquisite manners.
Paimon sighed, leaning into the arm of the daybed, dramatically collapsing onto a pillow. “Frustrating. You have no idea how tiresome these things can be, you’re so young and unspoiled by the world. There’s all these contracts, and of course Stolas is griping about getting married. He’s not mature like you, he’s always going on about how he just wants to be young, and try things before he has a family. It’s ridiculous, really...”
The dark demon reached his arm across to the table at his side, picking up the silver tray and holding it out for Andrealphus to pick from the assortment of sweets piled on top in neat little rows. Today’s selection was various kinds of cookies and biscuits, with all kinds of toppings of nuts and sweets, sometimes the occasional dried fruit that he quickly bypassed in favor of the more dense versions.
The peacock snatched a chocolate chip cookie from the metal platter, bringing it to his beak and slowly nibbling away at it. He had tried twice now to resist the temptation, but the king always gave him a frumpy, disappointed look until he caved in and took some. Andrealphus found himself skipping breakfasts and lunches just to maintain his figure; his mother had visited just last week and had raked him over the coals for the extra inch of fat around his midsection.
“Are you a penguin or a peacock, you idiot boy? No king wants a chubby little bird for a consort, so shape up.”
“...At least you never seem to shirk your duties, you’re so responsible for your age. It’s hard to believe you’re so young. And so lovely to be with, truly.”
The words caught his attention, and the bird lowered his hand, watching the king closely as the older demon sat up, leaning forward to pat him on the hand. “Really, I would have no idea you were any younger than your father himself. You’re so clever, and you’ve really taken after him.”
Andrealphus beamed at the praise, positively radiating at the words of comparison to the marquess. No one had ever shined such a light on their similarities before, let alone revered his wit. He had always thought himself a dull, hollow thing, always falling behind the shadows of others and never quite measuring up.
“Thank you, your grace. You are too kind. I’m sure Stolas will grow and mature to be as brilliant and capable as you some day.”
That had the king sit back on the cushions, his hand flying to his stomach as he let out a roaring laugh. “Oh, Andy, there it is again, reminding me you are so young after all. No, I think he’s a bit of a lost cause, but at least we can hope to get a few good years and an heir out of him. That’s all we really need, anyway.”
“An heir would certainly be a lovely curse.”
“Yes, well, hopefully nothing gets in the way of that. One more year to go.” Paimon sighed, reaching his hand out and floating a bottle of wine over to the bed. “How about a little celebration? To being almost done with one more child.”
Andrealphus grinned, setting his teacup aside and sitting up. “That sounds wonderful.”
The king’s beak thinned into a long line, picking up two glasses the peacock hadn’t seen there before. “Here you are, my dear.”
He held out a hand, fingers brushing the kings as the older demon passed off the wine glass, letting his hands linger a moment longer before pulling the talons back to grab his own. Another glass was poured, and then they were clinking them together. “Well, if Stella is anything like you deary, there won’t be a thing to worry about. Duty above all else, right?”
“Of course, it’s practically our family motto.” Andrealphus puffed his chest out proudly, knowing Andras would approve. Not just of the acknowledgements, the compliments, but of all the ways the king was seemingly becoming more enamored with him.
It helped to abate the soft thumping of his heart against his chest, the bird’s nearly-empty stomach twisting in knots at the touch of another. He hadn’t shared physical contact with anyone else since… It didn’t matter. This was good, he was exactly where he was meant to be.
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While the king’s continued interest was reassuring, his mentions of Stolas increased over the weeks, letting doubt creep into his mind on his intent even while small bouts of physical contact seemed to linger more and more each time. It was abrupt how the king could go from having a hand on his thigh to speaking of his other children and how close he was in age to them; how his interests converged or differed from theirs. It left him unsettled and uncertain if he really was as interesting or brilliant as the king said, making him pause at the idea he was really clever enough or pretty enough to entertain someone of Paimon’s caliber.
Nevertheless, this was the task given to him; one that would guarantee the rise of his family’s station. No matter his doubts, he would simply have to re-double his efforts, work harder to be more charming and sweet and desirable.
It was months later when there was a noticeable shift in the air when he came into the study once more. Nothing looked out of place, the king sat behind the dark wooden desk, the winged backs rising tall over his crowned head. Paimon didn’t look up though, didn’t even acknowledge his presence as he stepped into the room, bringing his playful demeanor and attention to bear.
“Hello, Andrealphus.” Paimon kept working at the parchment in front of him, swift strokes of his plumed quill pen attacking the receptacle for his words.
The marquis stepped into the light of the room, noticing it was dimmer than usual.
“Your majesty. How are you doing on this fine day?” He bowed low as he approached, then took up his normal chair near the desk. Today he had brought a book, though he knew he would mostly gossip with him and tell him all about the disastrous events at the wedding they had been to the previous week. They would make quick work of it, pointing out every misstep and how their great families wouldn’t allow such a black mark on their vigilant watch over the young birds in their care who would soon be following suit.
“Not today, my dear. You can go up, I’ll join you when I’m done.” One point of a talon and the king’s hands and eyes were back on the paper, barely paying him notice at all. And he had worked so diligently today on a new hairstyle, slicked back with just a twist at the front. Normally the king would notice little details like that, but alas, much was clearly on his mind.
Andrealphus ascended the steps to the lofted area, and noticed the daybed was set differently; less pillows and more clearance of space, their normal tea and sweets not here yet. He sat down, spine straight and hands clasped in his lap as he waited.
It would be another thirty minutes before the scratching sounds of the pen on paper finally stopped, and talons scraped floorboards, making them creak under the weight of the older demon until finally he appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Now my lovely, how about something different today? How about we have lunch instead of tea?”
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When Andrealphus arrived back to his estate, Stella was chatting away on the phone while lounging on the couch in the sitting room; a phone receiver was pressed to the side of her face; likely gossiping with one of her many compatriots. As of late, he had started asking her to keep a close watch on her betrothed, which meant she had started to create an informal network of those who had business over at the prince’s palace.
The servants could hardly be trusted, but occasionally they could gleam a speck of information. He had no idea how his father did it, all of the younger peacock’s staff were quite dull and unloyal. Perhaps it was training, maybe with a healthy dose of fear and time he could have them under his thumb as well?
Stella noticed as walked in, his boot heel clicks giving him away and she tipped her head backwards off the end of the sofa and waved. The marquis just shook his head back, he had no interest in any of that today. He would get caught up on the latest news over dinner anyway, so it was better to put his mind to work and off the awful afternoon.
An imp, barely taller than his boots, stepped forward as he entered, bowing and immediately launching into a litany of offerings.
“Welcome back, your grace. You were gone longer than normal, would you like your tea and lunch in the garden?
“No, I will be going to my study.”
“Are you sure, we have it all ready if you’re hungry? We could bring it up and–”
At first the marquis didn’t realize what happened, but then when the words died suddenly he looked down at the imp, a little insect under his boot flying around that he intended to swat away. It was then he noticed that the imp was old, with a dark suit that tapered and met at a little bowtie around his neck. The navy fabrics stood out against the layer of crystal ice that gleamed in the light, the creature froze from head to toe, eyes wide in horror as he squealed from inside the form as if trapped in his own coffin.
“Oh, Andrea-alphus! That’s a new one! Can you do that to the other little toads? One had the nerve to tell me it would be an extra twenty minutes to get my dress pressed before I could try it on for the opera this weekend, that would show them!”
“Later, Stella.” The peacock huffed, stepping aside his new ice creation and leaving the misfortunate cretin to sort himself out, ignoring his sister’s whimsical request and heading straight to the sacred temple he called an office; a place he could think without any further disruptions.
The walk down the ice lined halls was frigid, but it never bothered him much these days. Warmth was a long abandoned luxury, and the cold seemed to help keep his mind sharp, focused on the task at hand. He stopped in front of the gleaming door of oiled wood, a glass window that arced into a curve set in the middle of it, making perfect diamond patterns dance across the floors outside from the afternoon light streaming through his study window.
It gave him a moment to catch his breath, to shake off the tremors that still radiated through his body. He breathed in, then exhaled before turning the knob and pushing against the heavy door. The room was still fairly bare since he had just moved in, just a desk in the center, a few bookcases with scattered piles of research, mathematics books and anything he could find that seemed to pique the king’s interest.
Andrealphus took shaky steps forward, lowering himself gracefully into the plush wingback chair of violet and navy, then collapsed in on himself with a wheezing sob.
Everything had been going so well up until this point. The conversations, the way he could dance between their shared interests, the praise the king practically sang every time he came and left. Even the lunch today hadn’t started badly, the peacock trying to roll through their normal topics of conversation, bits of gossip and then some of the gross fashion choices that were being pushed out of Envy’s couture scene and the copycats in the Pride ring. Paimon had just sat there glumly, not saying much until he set his lunch plate aside and scooted closer to him, one hand on his thigh.
“I think I’m bored of fashion. What else do you know, little bird?”
That. That fucking name, that was what had gotten him. He should have leaned in, should have pressed back with a smile and ingratiated himself further with the king. But no, two little words and he froze like a child being kissed for the very first time. It was his whole purpose, why he was here, and yet he couldn’t stop his erratic heartbeat, the way he pulled back when Paimon leaned in with eyes full of longing.
It had only been a matter of minutes between his tactless display and his dismissal. Would he ever get invited back? Was it all over? He felt sick in his stomach, angry that neither love nor power were readily available to him. If he couldn’t have the flesh he wanted anyway, why not enjoy and succumb to the touch of someone so influential and capable. Surely a demon with so many children would have exceptional taste and skill. What was he so afraid of?
Pajarito.
The word came to his mind unbidden, and he slouched in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his sullen cheeks. Andrealphus knew he shouldn’t– it wasn’t helping his situation to think of him. But that night was a soothing balm on an infected cut, it could calm but never cure the sting that plagued him. He had replayed that scene of deviant pleasure in his mind over and over as he tried to keep going, to make the prize worth the price it cost him.
He could still feel that night in his mind even now, his hand sliding down his front until it reached under his robes and into his trousers; his mind blocking out the world as he tried to fade away into the memory. Would Paimon wash it away? Could it be taken forever from him if he did what he was supposed to?
Andrealphus pushed the thought aside, letting the cool touch of his fingers glance at the folds of his cloaca, his palm pressing against that mound while the sounds and smells came back. Tangerines and cedar, a parrot singing in his ear.
Canta para mi, the bird said, but he was the one singing. It was so very much like the prince.
After so many months, he had the touches down to a precise formula, a few strokes and he was bent in half, whimpering and clenching between his legs, his other hand over his eyes blocking out the world. While he could make himself come like that, it was always a pale imitation; a faint echo of the severed connection from before.
The peacock swept his hand down the trousers hidden beneath his robes; he would clean himself properly later but for now it was fine. Maybe now he could finally think without getting swept up in the thoughts that swirled in his mind.
His focus was interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing, an incantation spell he cast making it chirp out three times. It was Andras, then. Did he already know, or was this a routine check in? Either way, he couldn’t make the marquess wait. Reaching out one wobbly hand, he picked up the receiver and tucked it between the side of his head and his shoulder.
“Hello, father.”
“Are there any updates on your sister’s arrangement?”
Always straight to the point, no formalities or asking how his son was adjusting to his role, how he was getting along with Paimon or if Stella was well. No, it was always a direct route to business.
“Ah, well, it was going quite well–”
“Was? What do you mean ‘was’?”
Ugh. Andrealphus sank down in his chair, one that still felt entirely too big for him to fill despite the fact that he was fully grown and taller than his father.
“King Paimon… has been hesitant. To do anything. We talk, and he has said many positive words, but there hasn’t been… Much else.”
The peacock picked at the edges of his robes, reminding himself that he needed to yell at his butler for the terrible job they had done washing them; they were starting to fray and he would need new ones soon. His father’s voice cut in, breaking his concerted effort not to think of what was expected.
“What have you done so far?”
“D-done? I…”
“To endear yourself. Haven’t you been paying attention? Positive words are not enough, we need to know he sees our family as valuable. He needs to see you as valuable to him.”
“Y-yes, I, well, I’ve been spending a lot of time with him, several days a week and–”
His father huffed from the other side of the line, the already limited patience in his voice thinning further. Andrealphus felt his insides turn, the looming threat tugging at the teetering edges of his resolve, shadows flickering in the dim candlelight.
“Do not make me remind you of what will happen if you cannot see this through.”
The peacock didn’t need to be reminded, there was so much on the line for all of them. Stella, because this would ruin her for eternity if she was rejected; his family, because neither of their children had marriages or heirs, and himself– twenty three, unmarried, with nothing but an eternity of grudge work to bide over his forever.
“Find it in yourself to make this happen. Fortune favors those who are bold and willing to act. Don’t make him try so hard.”
His talons were shaking, the receiver clenched tight between both talons as he waited for the silence to end. Finally, he heard a sigh. “I know you will be radiant. Push forward.”
The line died, and Andrealphus slid to the floor, dropping the crystal speaking piece on his desk. With free hands, he let his talons creep along the wooden surface touching his palms, frost slipping out and blooming in a long line across rough surface.
He watched as the ice grew and grew, until it was monstrous, a hideous creature climbing the walls, sharp jagged edges and fangs coming down from the head of an upside down dragon hanging off the ceiling with empty eye sockets and a tongue made of ice that lolled to one side. The marquis hadn’t been able to bring it to life yet, but he knew how magnificent it would be, the power he would have if he could just get it to cooperate with his magic.
Andrealphus snapped his palm shut, letting the ice crack and fall down, the form crashing dramatically to the floor with a loud clatter; wisps of ice smacking him in the cheeks from the distant but forceful impact. He was mostly shielded by the desk, but the opening in front left him vulnerable to the scattershot spray of frost.
An ice dragon was not going to secure him a future on the council or his sister a crown. Only his mind and beauty could do that.
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