Chapter Text
Crazy how quickly things can change, Azareth thought to himself. Six months ago he believed he was confined to the Pride Ring, that he was just a sinner with a paper title, that he would never be recognized as a true member of the Goetia. And now here he sat, sipping champagne at his first Goetian social.
It wasn’t exactly the smoothest transition. Viscount Azareth was now a thing of the past, as Lucifer himself (no doubt thanks to Lilith) had officially given him Andromalius’s title of Earl, (though he preferred the term ‘Count’ and decided to use that instead moving forward), in recognition of him being his legitimate heir, and diligently performing his duties. There was push back, but it was mild. The real push back came when he was formally introduced to the Goetian Court.
The disdain from the majority of them was palpable, as he can only imagine, especially given the headlines that came out of him and Alastor nearly leveling Pentagram City in their fight, that many likely did some digging and knew of his true origin, originally a human sinner. Even still, recognition from Lucifer himself is rarely given, and it had been seamless attending the court and carrying out his duties after the initial disapproval among the nobility. Some had even called upon him, asking for guidance on suspicious business dealings, help retrieving precious property, and even mediating familial disagreements.
The only thing that was mildly disconcerting was who had invited him to this extravagant party, and who’s palace he now sat in: Prince Vassago, of the Ars Goetia.
The beautiful red parrot that had divined his memories at his trial before the sins. Part of him wished to apologize for that entire charade. Especially considering his memories seemed to impact the handsome prince.
I guess I should be thankful for how boring these socials can be Azareth thought. His presence went unannounced thankfully, causing less of a stir than it would have otherwise to the already present guests, and he had found himself a table at nice quiet corner of the massive ball room in which the social was being held. Vassago’s palace being fit for a Prince would be an understatement. It was opulent, gold furnishing nearly every inch, and the sheer size upon his arrival left him slack jawed.
He’d intended to stay long enough to politely show he had accepted the invitation, and would simply thank the prince for the invitation before leaving. However, the gossip he could hear throughout the party was addicting.
Marquis Shax had been caught by his wife in a Lust sex dungeon where apparently he’d been paying a madame a small fortune to sexually degrade and humiliate him. Duke Barbatos had accidentally shot President Buer’s son on a hunting trip in Envy, though many suspect it wasn’t accidental at all. Prince Stolas was apparently experiencing marriage trouble with an imp, much to the disgust of the Goetian wives recounting the rumor.
It was all so fascinating, and Azareth had mistakenly allowed himself to get comfortable at his table, sipping the fine champagne.
Until a trio of Goetia waltzed up to his table. Taking the lead was a Goetia he’d recognized from his time in the courts, and a particularly vocal opponent to his ascension to the 72nd seat he now held.
Great.
“Good evening Viscount- pardon me, Count Azareth. I have to say quite a shock to see you here at such a…. regal, gathering.” Before him stood the Marquis Andrealphus, the icy peacock who seemed to embody the very term ‘snobby bureaucrat’ that got a giggle out of the queen whenever he recounted tales of the goings on of the courts.
Azareth remained seated, an affront to any who recognized Goetian etiquette. “Good evening, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. You are?” Azareth kept his voice calm and smooth, relishing the brief flash of frustration that appeared across the peacock’s face.
“Yes well, you are forgiven for your clear lack of royal etiquette. I am Marquis Andrealphus.” He had a smug look on his face, as if expecting Azareth to suddenly stand and bow.
Azareth remained seated, calmly analyzing the talons of his right hand as if bored before looking up at the Marquis. “Pleasure to meet you Marquis Andrealphus, what can I do for you?”
“Hmph. No sense of decorum I see. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much from a plebeian blooded sinner. Even one who somehow tricked Lucifer into formally recognizing his status.” Andrealphus was twirling his martini glass in his right hand, look of disgust painted on his face.
“Yes, well, I believe respect is earned. Not given. And to be frank Marquis, you haven’t given me a reason to respect you. After all, tricking Satan into stripping a benevolent Prince of his powers, his duties, and his station,” Azareth tsked at him, his condescension obvious, “I would think you would consider yourself fortunate to still have your own. It did take Prince Stolas taking pity on you, did it not?”
At this Andrealphus flung his drink at Azareth, expecting to dowse him but instead watching a teal-green flame bordered portal appear in front of the Count, the drink splashing harmless on the floor next to them. Azareth quickly closed the portal and looked up at the furious Marquis with a smug smile.
“Dear me Marquis, it seems you’ve spilled your drink. Perhaps one of your friends can fetch you a new one.” Azareth gestured to the two birds flanking either side of him.
“You…. You arrogant bastard!” Andrealphus slammed his fists on the table, Azareth quickly moving his drink out of the way before they landed. “You are a disgrace to the Goetia! A disgrace to Hell! I don’t care what the king says! You DO NOT belong here, dirtying our courts with your filthy crimson human blood! You do NOT DESERVE a title!” He turned around to the rest of the crowd that had gathered to watch the drama unfold. “Is this acceptable to any of you!? Are you just going to stand here while a human sinner shames the Goetia with his presence!?”
Azareth finally stood up from the table. “Lord Andrealphus.” He caught the peacock’s attention, who turned back to him, eyes wide with fury. Azareth removed his jacket, rolled up his left sleeve, and took out the switchblade he always kept on his person. At first, Andrealphus braced, as if he expected Azareth to attack. Instead, Azareth took the blade to his own skin, cutting a small but deep line into his forearm before turning it upside down, allowing the steady stream of black to pour into the napkin now held in his other hand before the wound closed itself.
He rolled down the sleeve of his shirt, donned his jacket once again, and walked up to the bewildered Marquis, extending the napkin out for him to see. “As you can see, my blood isn’t, what did you say now…. crimson.”
Andrealphus stood stalk still, completely stunned. But the look of surprise lasted just a few brief seconds before his face contorted in rage.
“You will not make a fool of me! I’ll bleed you myself and show everyone here!” Andrealphus suddenly launched thick sharp shards of ice toward Azareth, when they were stopped mid air by a sudden wave of sparkling gold.
“You have made a fool of YOURSELF!” Azareth heard a familiar voice to his left, a sudden onset of nerves overcoming him.
Standing there, having made his way through the gathering, stood the party’s host, Prince Vassago. He was just as beautiful as Azareth remembered. Red plumage standing vivid against the background of blues, blacks, and purples of the crowd behind him, face emblazoned with a fury that made Azareth’s feathers fluff up.
“You are OUT! I am TIRED of your antics Andrealphus! Largate de una puta vez!” Vassago pointed to the door.
Andrealphus stood, stunned before once again scowling and turning in a huff to leave the party. The crowd parted for him, a chorus of whispers filling the air.
Azareth turned back toward the furious Prince, who scowled in Andrealphus’s direction, watching him leave before heaving a deep breath and turning back toward the attendees. “Please! Do not let the misguided Marquis spoil your fun! Enjoy the party!” The crowd dispersed immediately, though Azareth noticed several other attendees turning to leave as well.
“Que pesado.” Vassago muttered, turning back toward Azareth, who was still rooted to the same spot.
He had just the few seconds it took for Vassago to make his way to him to regain his composure. He bowed before the Prince, right hand over his torso before addressing him. “Prince Vassago, I apologize for the disruption. I fear I may have taken things a bit too far.”
“No no! It’s Andrealphus, don’t mind him. He’s always causing me problems. I apologize for his rude behavior.” Vassago gave a polite bow in return, with Azareth catching the scent of vanilla, spice, and amber once again. It was intoxicating.
“No apologies needed at all your highness! I’m…. Well I’m rather used to being the focal point of some unfavorable opinions. But while we’re here, I’d like to thank you for the invitation. It is an honor.” Azareth had to resist the urge to bow yet again. He didn’t know what to do with himself. The flawless prince made him nervous in a way no one in all of Hell, not even Lucifer and Lilith had.
“The honor is all mine! I, umm, have you had a drink yet?” Vassago asked him, his tone suddenly shifting drastically, a tinge of red spreading across his cheeks.
Azareth noticed almost immediately. Is he…. is he nervous? Azareth couldn’t fathom why this beautiful, ethereal prince could possibly be nervous around him. Unless…. Shit, the trial.
“I umm, actually, I just finished one. The champagne is wonderful, as is the party.” Azareth ran his hand on the back of his neck, giving the prince a nervous smile.
At this Vassago’s eyes widened before he started giggling, doing his best to stifle it. “Eres adorable. This party is boring and the champagne is amable. As are most Goetian socials. It is simply a duty us princes and higher ranked Goetia are…. how you say…. obligada? Obligated! Yes obligated to do on occasion. Simply to keep up appearances.” He gave Azareth a smile. “But you have nothing to drink! Come with me.”
Vassago led him through the crowd, several Goetia giving him curious looks, no doubt miffed at him monopolizing the host’s time.
“Your highness, I don’t mean to take up so much of your time, I completely understand if you -”
“Disparates! It’s fine! I can’t have your first Goetian social happen without you at least enjoying bebidas de calidad!” He was making his way toward the bar that was set up by the gorgeous floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
When had I told him this was my first social?
“Please! Sit!” Vassago gestured to the stools and waited until Azareth took a seat before sitting next to him.
“Alejandro!” An imp bartender appeared from behind the bar holding several bottles of high end liquor.
“Yes your Highness?” The imp said in a thick Spanish accent.
“Two of my usual.” Vassago turned on his stool toward Azareth. “So, umm, how have you been? How is the…. Umm, how are you enjoying court life?” The strange tinge of nervousness returning to his voice wasn’t lost on Azareth, who still was trying to figure out how to best approach speaking to such high royalty. Handsome royalty….
“It’s been, well okay your highness. Just establishing a new routine. Prior to…. well, the trial…. I had thought I was confined to the Pride ring, as most sinners would be. It turns out, I’m legitimately a Goetia by blood after all, so dealing with the other six rings has kept me relatively busy.” The bartender had returned, handing them two martini glasses with some sort of clear yellow and red gradient liquor.
“Ahh, trabajo puede ser muy fastidioso, no?” Vassago took a swig of the drink, its color shifting as the alcohol mixed, into a curious bright green. He set it down and sighed, turning back toward the bar and looking down. “I wanted to…. Apologize, by the way. For, intruding on your memories….”
There it is. The reason he’s nervous.
“I…. My duties to the Ars Goetia are to see the past, the present, and the future. It means they use me sometimes, to see if someone has committed a crime they were accused of.” He gave Azareth a somber look. “Lo lamento.”
It was the phrase he’d said to him at the trial. The image of the prince in tears, hand still touching his cheek had been forever burned into his memory since that day. And the somber look he gave now wasn’t much different.
Azareth couldn’t tell you why, or what came over him in that moment, whether it was the sight of the gorgeous bird looking truly downtrodden, or just a sudden wave of courage that swept his nerves to the side.
Either way, he reached toward Vassago’s hand where it sat on the bar, the stem of his glass resting between his fingers. He gave it a squeeze, prompting Vassago to look at him in surprise, an obvious blush to match his plumage forming across his white faceplate.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, letting the words linger in the air before withdrawing his hand and grabbing his own glass of the colorful concoction.
Vassago sat stunned, face bright red, his crest slightly raising akin to Azareth’s involuntary fluffing when flustered. It took Azareth a few seconds to figure out what he’d done, but instead of dwelling on it and spiraling, he took a swig of the drink, watching the red and yellow swirl into green as the two liquors mixed.
Vassago was still transfixed on the bold demon before him. Never had someone who he wasn’t close with so brazenly, well, touched him like that. But in such a genuinely sweet and sincere way. Vassago truly meant the apology. Forcing the memories out of a demon forces them to relive the emotions from those memories. On top of that, he feels those emotions as well with them, a burden of his powers. And what he felt touching Azareth’s cheek, reliving those memories along with him, he couldn’t believe the Count got to where he is today. He spent the rest of that night, and even the next day crippled by the sorrow and pain he’d felt in those memories. How someone could live with them every day, and be the one to comfort HIM…. Vassago was entranced.
“Well this is interesting.” Azareth said, putting down his glass. “Fruity and sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. Has a bit of zip to it, doesn’t it?”
Azareth’s words snapped Vassago out of his stupor, realizing he’d been staring awkwardly for probably minutes. “Si, I thought you might appreciate it.” He took a large gulp of his own drink, hoping to be able to blame the alcohol on his obvious blushing. “You come across as a whiskey enjoyer, I thought why not give you a taste of a real drink?”
“Oh? And this is a real drink? And where did you find this one? It feels like the type you’d find at a club.” Azareth swirled the drink in his hand, curious at how the color change happened.
“Si! It was at a club in Lust! What was it…. Bottoms Up! They have a wonderful dance floor, and on Fridays a mariachi night! Es muy divertido!”
So adorable. The way the prince’s face lit up had Azareth melting in his seat. “I take it it’s a gay club? I mean with a name like Bottoms Up, I can only imagine.”
“Si, it’s a gay club. But it’s fun. I don’t go…. often, but, only because I don’t have many to go with….” The prince had suddenly started blushing again, realizing he may have given away more than he realized.
“Well if you don’t mind some absolutely atrocious dancing, I can always be your plus one. Just promise not to laugh too hard if you drag me out onto the dance floor.” Azareth smiled. The conversation is…. nice. The prince is so easy to talk to.
Vassago giggled. “Come on, it can’t be THAT bad!”
“I’ll fall on my face at least three times, I promise.” Azareth said, closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck at the embarrassing admission. I should take up some dance lessons….
Vassago couldn’t stop giggling, adorable chirps slipping out in between the laughter. “Well I could teach you. Sin animo de presumir, but I’m pretty good. Especially on those Friday nights!”
Azareth shot him a sly smile. “Well I’ll have to see for myself sometime.” He tossed a wink the prince’s way, who suddenly blushed again, and gave a nervous laugh before finishing his drink.
Azareth could feel a difference in the Prince, his nervousness now palpable, and gauged how he should approach it. He seemed fine when I touched his hand…. Was it the small talk? No…. he doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable with me…. Wait, was it the wink? No, there’s no way. No way I’m that lucky. Against his own judgement, and perhaps aided by liquid courage, Azareth decided, Fuck it, why not?
“By the way your highness, I had a question for you.” This perked up the parrot, whose now perpetual blush was even more obvious as he turned to look at Azareth, wide eyed.
“O-Of course! Ask away.” He chuckled nervously.
“Are all the princes of the Ars Goetia this handsome, or is it just you?”
If Vassago was blushing before, his entire face probably matched his plumage at this point. “I… uh…. I …. I don’t….” He struggled to form a sentence, cursing himself in his head for acting like a helpless hatchling. He actually finds me…. Attractive???
After what seemed like an eternity to Vassago as he struggled to put his words together, Azareth suddenly stood up and bowed, taking the prince’s non answer as rejection. “My apologies your highness, I fear I may have been too bold, and will remember my place in the future. I won’t monopolize your time.”
“Wait! Don’t!” Azareth had turned to walk away when a white gloved hand stopped him. He turned to see the flustered prince, standing, reaching to keep him from leaving. “I… That was…. That was sweet. Please stay?”
Urgency was flooding Vassago’s mind, the sudden yearning to keep the Count close making him forget the fact that they were in the presence of hundreds of Goetia, some of whom had turned an eye toward the interaction with curiosity.
Azareth turned back around, acutely aware of the many eyes and ears that now pried into his and the Prince’s conversation. “I, simply need some air your highness, I can return if you wish.”
The sudden return of his formal diction struck a blow to Vassago, as he felt that perhaps he had ruined any chance he had at getting to know this infamously reclusive, yet surprisingly fun and charming noble.
Azareth turned to walk out onto the balcony, the few stray Goetia that occupied it turning to head back into the party, no doubt uncomfortable with his presence.
He sighed to himself as he leaned against the balcony railing, cursing himself for how he and the prince’s conversation had ended, how stupid he was to make such a bold statement in a room full of demons who likely hated him, putting the prince in such an awkward situation.
“Count Azareth?” Azareth turned to see the prince had followed him, his eyes almost pleading.
Azareth once again bowed, his mental self depreciation insisting he apologize. “I’m sorry your highness, for putting you in such an awkward position. I won’t make that mistake again, I -”
“Please do.” Azareth looked up in shock at the words to see the prince, still with that blush across his cheeks, giving him a soft smile, his right hand holding his left in front of his chest as if he was still nervous about what to say or do. He’s…. he’s so adorable Azareth thought to himself.
“I apologize, you just…. it just, well, caught me by surprise. Thank you, for the compliment.” Vassago’s smile grew wider, and Azareth felt a warmth in his chest that could sustain him for years all on its own.
“Well, I meant it, every word, your highness.” He let a small smile tug at the corners of his beak.
Vassago stifled a small giggle. “You know, you’re quite attractive yourself, increíblemente guapo.” He turned away, his blush deepening.
It was all Azareth needed to hear to bolster his confidence to lean forward and reach for the prince’s hand. He lifted it up to his beak, planting a kiss on his fingers before looking at the surprised prince. “Thank you, your highness.”
Vassago, whose night had been filled with twists and turns and many pleasant surprises, couldn’t help but let out a small chirp, before giggling at himself for acting like a helpless teenager with a high school crush.
“And quite the charmer too, no?” He gave another soft giggle as Azareth released his hand, the smile on his face having grown wide.
“I suppose you bring it out of me,” he said, his nervous habit of rubbing the back of his neck and looking down hitting him once again. “Can I be honest your highness?”
Vassago had joined him in leaning on the balcony railing, the prince finally looking a bit more comfortable. “Si, of course, and please, no need for formalities.” The prince had turned to face him, a soft smile now plastered onto his face like it belonged there, along with the redness from his blushing.
Azareth turned to look at the beautiful view of the cityscape. “I’ve thought about you ever since the trial. Don’t take this the wrong way but, I’d never seen a more beautiful creature in my life.” He turned to meet the prince’s eyes, which grew wide, white pupils appearing in them. “And, I wanted to thank you. For showing me empathy. It showed me that there was a lot more to this mystery Prince than a pretty face and, it gave me a sense of hope. Hell doesn’t have to be a bad place. Especially not with someone like you in it.”
Vassago was once again rendered speechless. There had been many that attempted to woo him with pretty words before. He was a prince, he was used to people trying to charm him in order to take their next step up the ladder of Goetian hierarchy. But the most shocking thing was how genuine Azareth was. It wasn’t just pretty words. It was honest confessions. Dios mio. This tall, handsome demon was almost too good to be true.
Azareth gave the prince time to respond as he looked back toward the cityscape. He dared to believe that maybe he hadn’t said too much. Maybe Prince Vassago could feel the same way.
“I…. You deserved to know that someone felt for you. In that moment. I don’t know if I deserve so much praise but…. Gracias, carino.” Vassago let his hand rest on Azareth’s on the railing, the touch setting off fireworks in the Count.
A sudden urge crossed Azareth’s mind. His boldness getting the better of him, he looked at the prince. His adorable smile. His beautiful deep red, half lidded eyes.
Raising his hand to the prince’s face, he gently caressed his cheek, leaning forward, only to be surprised by Vassago meeting him halfway.
For their first kiss.