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You are a Goetia princeling of little consequence. One among many, you were surprised to receive an invitation to one of the events of the season, The Princess’s Ball of Roses, held to celebrate Princess Charlotte, the demon belle of Hell.
You arrive on time, but you are rather new to this sort of affair, one of the grandest, second only to the ball held in the King’s honour. Your arrival is announced by a herald but you attract no attention as you make your way down the grand staircase.
There’s already a lively crowd but the fashionable and important will be late, the royal family and the Sins among them, as you can see from the pair of currently vacant thrones on the dais.
Notables who were here currently were very few and apart from the King’s herald, Lord Alastor, the famed and infamous Radio Demon and Favourite of the King of Hell, was already among the crowd. There are those who call the Radio Demon an upstart Sinner, but not in his hearing. Lord Alastor had a reputation that far preceded him.
You grew up on his radio broadcasts, however, and were quite excited to meet him, more so that even potentially meeting the Princess or even glimpsing the king.
You tug on the sleeve of your older cousin, Ronové, who was kind enough to accompany you even though he found balls quite boring.
“Do you know the Radio Demon?” you ask, a little more excitedly than befitting your age and station. “Can you introduce us?”
Ronové, who was only thirty but acted like he was Grandfather Paimon’s age, gave you a side eye that you didn’t feel that you deserved. “Oh yes, I believe we met in passing. Going to ask him for an autograph, cuz? That’s rather like you.”
Naturally the censure from an older family member gave you that familiar feeling of dejection but! Cousin Ronové was actually going up to Lord Alastor. “Could you hurry to keep up? And try to be chill. Do not embarrass me.”
Before you could assure your cousin that you would never repay a kindness in such a dull witted way, you were both there, at the edge of the group currently surrounding Lord Alastor. If left to your own devices, you’d stand at the edge forever, content with only listening to the voice of your childhood hero.
Ronové waited for a lull in the existing conversation to attract Lord Alastor’s attention, expertly manoeuvring himself to the Radio Demon’s eyesight. He bowed. “My Lord Alastor, a delight to meet you again. Prince Ronové.”
“Ah yes, the composer.” Lord Alastor’s ever present grin had a cordial tilt to it.
“You flatter me, my lord.”
You try to pay attention but Ronové could be such a blowhard. It seemed that he didn’t have much of an interest in anything other than orchestral compositions and gambling at cards. You do peek around your cousin to catch a glimpse of Lord Alastor.
You see a tall Sinner, shorter than any Goetia in attendance. He’s dressed in a black suit with a slight white and gold trim over a red silk dress shirt, and as he raises his wrist, you see a flash of a gold link bracelet, his only jewellery. You know that the white and gold trim are a subtle nod to the king’s colours. It was only natural that the Favourite wear the king’s colours, and that his herald goes before him.
You are suddenly aware of the silence directed at you. You’d blush if you could but your soft facial feathers hide a lot of facial tics. You let out a startled coo instead, and gathered the reigns on what was left of your manners and etiquette.
“Lord Alastor, it is a pleasure to meet you and I am truly grateful for this opportunity to thank you.”
Lord Alastor blinked his red eyes. “Thank me? Whatever for, Prince Purson.” You get the impression that not many people thanked the Radio Demon for anything.
“For your radio broadcasts, of course. I grew up on them and spent many an evening listening to your radio plays before bed. I’m just excited to meet you in person to thank you.”
You can see from your peripheral vision that your cousin is experiencing the most intense depths of embarrassment. You really want to say more, elaborate on the times when you’d hid under your bed or your favourite heroes valiant against their foes but you restrain yourself.
“Oh how marvellous! Prince Ronové, you didn’t say your cousin was quite the fan.”
You see your cousin frowning and you wonder too at Lord Alastor’s tone and words. There was an ever so slight mocking lilt to the words but not enough to take insult.
Lord Alastor twirled his cane and offered a hand to you. “A delight. An absolute delight to meet a young person interested in the fine arts of the radio broadcast. If you like, I can take you around the room to meet like minded people of your age.”
You glance at Ronové, who nodded. “It will certainly improve my young cousin to meet others of his age.” You receive a light tap on the shoulder. “I’ll be in one of the side rooms, playing cards.” With that he bowed and took his leave.
Lord Alastor took you by the arm, his grin as wide as ever. “Now, I have just the person in mind for a fine chap like you.”
You make a small chirping sound with a small amount of distress. “Do not, my lord, put yourself out too much on my account.”
“Not at all! This lovely little tête-à-tête is in honour of her highness and she does ever need new connections among her peers.
You’re pretty certain that the princess is over two hundred years to your slightly above twenty, but you let the remark go. Instead you shyly discuss how to gain entry as a radio host as you let yourself be introduced to writers and artists. You don’t get a straight answer, but as you let yourself be drawn into a discussion over craft and interests, you don’t notice as he bows himself away.
More important people started to arrive as the night went on. Your great grandfather, King Paimon arrives shortly after Satan and his partner, a well armed imp.
After that the rest of the Sins started to trickle through. You do notice a stir in the room as Lord Alastor makes his way to the grand staircase. The herald there bowed and stepped aside as Alastor took his place.
“Glorious notaries of Hell, welcome and salutations!It has been a pleasure, yes indeed, to meet and mingle with each and everyone of you. If I have not yet meandered your way, rest assured that I will!”
You are quite delighted at the possibility of meeting your childhood idol again but it seemed to you that some demons were discomfited by that thought.
“But! Ladies and gentlemen, boggarts and ghouls, esteemed royalty and your Sinfulness, you are thanked for your attendance as the party is ready to begin!”
Lord Alastor spun to face the top of the shelves, hand flung out. Appearing in a cloud of red mist was Princess Charlotte. She stepped to the top of the stairs, her ball dress of black starlight gems glittered in dazzling fashion as her skirts swayed with her movement. A black tiara dressed her golden hair. She was closely followed by a shorter woman with very long silver hair.
“Presenting her royal highness, Princess Charlotte! At her side, accompanying the princess is the royal handmaiden, Lady Vagatha.”
You didn’t miss the glare that the one eyed Vagatha shot at Lord Alastor as your eyes slid past the glamorous princess to examine her handmaiden curiously. It was like she dressed to blend in, where the princess was dressed to stand out. Lady Vagatha wore silver and grey, a slinky dress with a long split in the skirt. She followed her lady as they walked down the grand staircase and took Lord Alastor’s other arm when he held out a hand to the princess, leading her the last few steps before releasing her to walk behind the princess.
Princess Charlotte had a truly excited grin on her face. You weren’t that close to the front of the room and you can’t pick out a lot of detail, but you can see that she is genuinely happy to be at the ball. Instead of going to her throne, her highness made her way to the centre of the ballroom to stand beneath the large skylight set in the ceiling.
You notice that she had the Radio Demon’s microphone in her hands.
“My beloved people of the Seven Rings! It warms my heart that so many of you have decided to come out to celebrate this night with me. I bid all of you to meet and mingle as you wish, the night is young and has only just begun!”
She handed the microphone back amid a round of applause. You hear some scattered remarks about how wonderfully short the princess’ speech had been and how she didn’t even mention her ridiculous hotel project, now three years in the running. As attention drifts away, you keep your eyes on the royal party in the middle of the room, to the subtle sense of drama that thrummed under the skin.
Just like a radio play! How exciting! You feel your head crest rising in anticipation.
As the princess gave back the microphone, Lord Alastor executed a cunning maneuver that resulted in Lady Vagatha being handed to the princess and the both of them deftly guided off the centre of the ballroom.
Unlike the majority of the room, your eyes are on the Radio Demon. The attractive draw of the princess gone, attention slipped away and onto other topics.
You see how Lord Alastor smiles as he raises his microphone to his lips.
He says simply, “I present his majesty, Lucifer Morningstar.”
The skylight overhead crashed inwards. Glass glittered in the moonlight as it fell as harmless dust to the marble floor below, a startled murmur coming from the gathered notables.
There was a startling flash of white and red and in the next moment the King of Hell was hovering over the dancefloor, all six of his white and red wings unfurled and beating independently of each other. He dropped to the floor, and there the King of Hell stood. He was stunning in white, his black shirt stark against the white of his skin and clothing. An expansive regal cloak hung from his shoulders and pooled around his feet as his wings flared out behind him. Delicate gold chains wrapped around his bare arms to his wrists. Not a hair on his head appeared out of place.
You are delighted at all of this pageantry and you almost want to clap.
King Lucifer looked like a marble statue granted life and purpose as a warrior. Even you, the untried Goetia prince, can taste the palpableness of his power from your end of the room.
His majesty grins as he looks about the room, just a gap between his lips so that his sharp teeth was only just visible. He held up a hand, palm up and Lord Alastor, forgotten in the excitement of his majesty’s arrival, stepped forward and placed his chin for the king’s hand to cup.
Such a simple act and you feel your cheeks warm under your facial feathers. Someone nearby is murmuring urgently under their breath.
“Oh Satan, oh great Satan, oh fuck I’m too fucking gay for this shit.”
Unsure of who was saying that, and worried that it was you, you look around to find that the urgent mutterings come from the clown Fizzarolli. Relieved, you turn back to the pantomime in the centre of the ballroom.
Even from this distance, in King Lucifer’s possessive grip, you can see Lord Alastor’s grin and the king’s smirk. Then the moment passes and King Lucifer released his Favourite and walked towards his black throne on the dais, his wings folded away but his regal cloak spread behind him. He lounged on his throne, one kneed over the arm and was immediately attended to by the other Sins. When you look back, Lord Alastor had melted into the crowd.
You can’t help but notice that the atmosphere has changed, as if charged with lightning. There was an edge that wasn’t there previous to the king’s arrival and you are not sure that you are very comfortable with this change. You are half a mind from excusing yourself to go find Ronové so you can leave when Lord Alastor emerges from the crowd, Princess Charlotte and Lady Vagatha on either arm.
“Here he is, just the fellow I wanted you to meet.”
You look to either side of you, wondering who Lord Alastor could be referring to, when to your shock you realise that you were the object of their focus.
“Princess Charlotte, this is Prince Purson of the Goetia.” Really, was that last part necessary?
You would have bowed but the princess caught your hand first. “Please, it’s Charlie to my friends. Alastor says that you’re a fan of radio broadcasts?”
You let out a small squawk of excitement, barely remembering again to restrain yourself. “Oh indeed, it's almost a lost art form but I have fond memories of listening to Lord Alastor’s broadcasts when I was growing up and I do hope that the medium doesn’t die out.”
Lady Vagatha wrinkled her nose. “Your parents let you listen to Alastor’s broadcasts?”
You look at the much smaller woman for a moment, quite confused. “My caretakers certainly found little wrong with Lord Alastor’s radio plays and considered it superior entertainment than what was on television.”
“I knew you were a man of style and substance,” Lord Alastor said, chuckling.
Princess Charlie laughed as well. “I don’t think Prince Purson is old enough for those broadcasts, Vaggie.”
A lightbulb clicked in your head. “Oh, oh! Those earlier broadcasts. No, I quite think they were before my time. I’m only twenty afterall.”
“Have you had a chance to host your own radio show?” asked Princess Charlie.
“Me? My own show? Oh, I wouldn’t know where to start. I mean, I’m not lacking in confidence in public speaking. I’m trained in oratory, afterall and I quite pride myself on doing different voices well.” You preen a little. Voices are your specialty! “I wouldn’t know what sort of show I’d put on and what sort of equipment I’d need.” You pause, considering. “Perhaps radio plays? Try my hand at little exciting adventure stories for the next generation of radio audience. But oh, why ask me when the Radio Demon is here?”
As you turn to look at Lord Alastor, a black metal collar materialised around Alastor’s neck and the chain attached to it was pulled taut. The chain ran a straight line across the ballroom right to the king’s hand. Demons on the dancefloor stepped backwards from the black chain as if it burned to the touch.
Without saying a word, his expression startled but not alarmed, Lord Alastor turned and followed the chain right back to its owner.
Lady Vagatha sighed. “Well, it was too much to hope for a normal night.”
“Vaggie, I happen to think it’s very romantic.”
You, yourself, are quite unable to pull your eyes away from the steady march of Lord Alastor through the parted crowd right up to his majesty’s black throne. The king was barely paying attention to his summoned Favourite, appearing to have rapt attention only to your great grandfather, King Paimon. Paimon in turn didn’t bat an eye as King Lucifer reached out without looking and dragged Lord Alastor down by the collar to sit on the cushion at the foot of the throne. Despite the manhandling, Lord Alastor didn’t look very bothered and you might have thought that his grin looked amused. Regardless, he settled himself comfortably on the cushion and after a moment, the king’s hand came up from the manifested black collar to rest in Lord Alastor’s hair. It was difficult not to feel warm as you looked at the royal couple. You agree that the display is rather sweet despite their very public dance. You understand that the king is making a statement of some sort and that politics was very much in motion.
Glancing at your companions, you see Princess Charlie looking upon her father and his Favourite with great fondness. In contrast was Lady Vagatha’s very tired expression. A heartbeat later and you remember your manners and request the next dance from Princess Charlie, which she graciously accepted.
You’re not on the up and up with gossip, but it’s common knowledge that when the clown Fizzarolli was in attendance that King Asmodeus wasn’t far. You really hope that nothing untoward was going to happen during your dance with Princess Charlie. You may be a prince also but the chasm between your rank and the princess’ was vast.
Still it was a pleasant set that you danced to, and you didn’t disgrace your tutors or your family by stepping on the feet of the princess of Hell despite your massive height difference. There was some conversation while you danced, generally around your interest in radio plays. If you didn’t know better you’d have thought you were being assessed for your interest in something. Perhaps a project? The princess was known for her projects.
The set ended and you lead Princess Charlie back to her handmaiden (though you are beginning to have some other ideas regarding that relationship) and her hand is immediately snatched up by another ball attendee.
You’d have liked nothing better than to find a drink because dancing is a workout, but you are well brought up and you ask Lady Vagatha for a round on the dancefloor.
She wasn’t as talkative or as practiced a dancer as the princess but she was light on her feet. You had thought the greater height difference would make the whole experience awkward, but your arms are long enough to make up for the difference.
There was no one waiting for Princess Charlotte when the set ended so you were able to leave them with each other in good conscience as you went to find a drink. You come back with two refreshing drinks but the ladies were nowhere to be seen, off to the dance floor, you assume, when Lord Alastor appeared at your elbow, sans black collar. He seemed none the worse for wear and in fact was quite cheerful as he took one of your drinks with a casual, “Don’t mind if I do.” The next words from the Radio Demon’s mouth quite floors you.
“Did Charlie have a chance to speak with you about her radio channel idea?”
You flutter with uncertainty. “I don’t believe so? The princess did ask about my interest in radio plays.”
Lord Alastor shrugged, leaving yours and his glasses on the tray of a passing server. “Let’s talk about it. Can I have the next dance?”
While this was clearly a social dance request as opposed to a romantic one, you still feel just a tad hesitant. “Um.” You lower your head ever so slightly. “Would the king mind?” Because after that recent display of ownership, you absolutely do not wish to get in between the King of Hell and his Favourite.
The Radio Demon’s grin doesn't inspire any confidence. “You have nothing to be worried about. Shall we have this dance? You find this opportunity to be quite interesting.”
Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow him onto the dancefloor despite your many misgivings. While it would be better visually if you were to lead as you are much taller, you feel that it would be more politic for Lord Alastor to take the lead. Even with that decision, you imagine the weight of the king’s regard. From the knowing grin on Lord Alastor’s face, you somehow doubt it was just your imagination and that he was well aware of the king’s attention and was set on ignoring him.
The pressure of the king’s attention only increased as the set went on and you barely get the gist of Lord Alastor’s pitch. The details escape you but you get the impression that Princess Charlie wanted a radio station of her own and was on the lookout for a charismatic host.
“What of you?” you enquire. “You’ve worked for her before.”
Lord Alastor’s grin took on a secretive slant. “A promising upcoming opportunity will ensure that my attention to personal projects will be quite limited. While I can make myself available to assist and advise dear Charlie, I won’t have the time to run a station for her.”
Informative yet enigmatic. You don’t have the necessary knowledge to read between the lines.
“Do think about it.”
“I shall.” As you say that, the set ends and you take your leave of Lord Alastor. As much as you enjoy talking with your childhood idol, you are glad to leave the perimeter of the king’s regard. You consider your options. Locate Ronové and have an early night - something you know that Ronové would be willing to do if his game was a losing one. However soon after you begin to look for Ronové, you manage to find someone even more awkward than you, your distant cousin, Octavia.
You stop to have a polite word, a quick catch up where you inquire about her mother (terrible) and her father(half as terrible but for different reasons). You fetch more refreshments for the both of you and you hang back against the back wall in introverted solidarity.
All this time you catch glimpses of Lord Alastor on the dancefloor with a different person in his arms each time. Curious, you look over to the king and his expression causes you to swallow your delicate fruit punch and wish you selected the alcoholic option.
To say that Lucifer Morningstar’s expression was smouldering would have been an understatement. The sclera of his eyes had gone red and his pupils gold. He wasn’t even pretending to pay attention to whomever was speaking to him then (it was Queen Beelzebub). You feel that the air between Lord Alastor and the king could have caught aflame, such was the intensity of his majesty’s glare. You glance at the Radio Demon’s direction and you wince when you see he’s dancing with King Asmodeus.
Octavia noticed your expression. “What?”
You silently point out the scene that was slowly simmering.
“Oh, this is either going to be really good or really bad.” Octavia paused. “Think we could find popcorn?”
Before you can even conjure up a couple bowls, the king stood.
You watch with bated breath as Lucifer Morningstar held open his hand and manifested the black chain into it. You reflexively take a piece of popcorn that Octavia had the presence of mind to summon.
The king tugged on the chain, and Lord Alastor stumbled back away from King Asmodeus' arms.
Lord Alastor looked around for the source of the assault and had just enough time to brace when Lucifer Morningstar began pulling on the chain, hand after hand as he approached the dancefloor. Alastor stumbled towards him, a parth parting in his way like before. He landed on his knees in the middle of the ballroom, under the now broken skylight where King Lucifer had made his grand entrance.
You can see that Lord Alastor is panting, his eyes wide and his hands were at his throat, clutching the black collar that manifested around his neck. You are, for a moment, concerned. Then you see the Radio Demon smile his shark-like grin. That might have been the signal King Lucifer was waiting for. He approached the centre where his Favourite was waiting. With one swift tug on the chain, he pulled Lord Alastor flush against his body while still on his knees. There was no misunderstanding what sort of relationship they had, not as they grinned fiercely at each other.
The orchestra began to play. It started slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure that a dance was what the king wanted. You hadn’t even noticed that they had stopped, arrested by the drama between the king and his favourite like everybody else. Ronové could have better described what the orchestra was doing. There were violins, certainly, building to what you think was a waltz, and lilting woodwinds weaving a melody in and around the violins.
Regardless of what the orchestra was doing, you watched, trapped like everyone else in the ballroom as the king ran a gentle finger down the side of Lord Alastor’s face before dragging his thumb roughly over his lips. The king said something, you can see his lips barely moving, and whatever Lord Alastor replied with caused him to grin widely. There was a wild look on the king’s face as he bent slightly to fiercely kiss Lord Alastor on the mouth before he reared back and kicked Lord Alastor squarely in the chest.
Lord Alastor landed on his back. He looked up at his king, amused if his grin was anything to go by. You accept another piece of popcorn from Octavia, your mouth and throat dry not just from the salty buttered nibble. You watch as Lucifer, the King of Hell, plant his foot in the middle of Lord Alastor’s chest. They both had near identical expressions of thoroughly enjoying themselves. You especially watch the king’s face as Lord Alastor bent his head forward to delicately kiss the tip of Lucifer’s boot.
Octavia choked at that and you pound on her back to dislodge the popcorn kernel that got stuck in her throat.
That simple (and oh stars, oh stars fuck, fucking hot, who do you have to kill to kiss or be kissed like that) gesture seemed to have opened a floodgate. Eyes locked, Lord Alastor had thrown down a gauntlet, one that the king was more than glad to pick up.
Reaching down, he hauled Lord Alastor to his feet with just one hand clutching that black suit jacket, a stunning display of strength that made you gasp. King Lucifer transferred his grip to Alastor’s collar and they began to dance, spinning in the circle cleared for them, moving in step like long established partners. The orchestra director, having picked up the mood, brought in the cellos and the double basses to bring a thrumming dark mood to the waltz.
You can now appreciate the coordinated partnership that King Lucifer and Lord Alastor were displaying now that the uncomfortably hot display of dominance was over. They spun and spun, their only contact was the king’s hand on Lord Alastor’s collar. That and the sizzling looks they exchanged as their eyes locked on each other.
The song rose and rose, the poor director whipping his orchestra into a frenzy as he tried to match the tempo that his majesty was setting, with or without the orchestra. The song went faster and faster, almost faster than the physical instruments allowed, and then it stopped.
King Lucifer held up his fist, and looked around the room, grinning at the rapt attention in the silence.
His wings flared out with a snap, dominant and wide, covering the closest under a shadow. He posed that way for a moment, a genuine smirk on his face, then he and Lord Alastor were gone, a flash of black, white and red through the open skylight.
“Ahem.” Princess Charlie stepped into the centre of the unoccupied circle. She held Lord Alastor’s microphone in her hands. “Thank you fall for making this ball memorable, but the night is not yet over! Our extremely talented orchestra -”
You tune out the princess, turning instead to Octavia. “I think I’m ready to go home. Do you need an escort?”
Octavia considers you. “I rather think I need to snog someone.”
You contemplate the offer. “Does your father still hate my older brother?”
“I don’t think Dad hates anyone more than my mom.”
Good enough.
You are a gentleman. You offer an arm to the lady and step off to find somewhere private.
Prologue
You receive a letter from Princess Charlotte’s office a few days later. Actually, while it bears her personal seal, the letterhead bears the logo and contact information from the Hazbin Hotel. In it was an invitation to speak with her regarding a radio host position.
Curious, because you have been thinking about what Lord Alastor had said, you attend the meeting. You are nervous because you have no experience, but Charlie, as you start to refer to by the end of the interview, has promised a budget for you to recruit talent as needed for your show, and the mentorship of Lord Alastor.
Really that last part was something you’d suffer a hundred imps for.
You do get to meet Lord Alastor at the tail end of the meeting. He came in with the king and there are cordial and friendly introductions. You are glad that there isn’t any display of the jealousy and possession that was at the ball, but as Lord Alastor, his voice slightly hoarse, speaks, you can’t help but glance at the gold chain bracelet at his wrist and the matching fine black chain around his majesty’s neck.