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At 6, Stella finds out she is engaged to be married to a prince. “This is good news,” Mommy tells her with a cheeky grin, like they’re in on a secret together. “We’ve secured you an important role to play in Goetia history, and we had to call in many social favors for this arrangement.” Then she opens a crate and reveals new puppies that she bought just for Stella!
It’s a lot to take in at once.
Stella quickly realizes that she hates puppies. They’re ugly and loud. She doesn’t want puppies, and she doesn’t want to marry some kid she’s never met and move to a new palace. She wants to stay here forever and have tea with Mommy and Daddy.
She shakes one of the puppies up and down aggressively. It makes an annoying whine that matches the cadence of her own screams, but everything feels so big and this is the only thing that helps.
Mommy grabs her arm and wrenches it toward her. It stings. Tears stream down Stella’s face. “Come on, Stella. Aren’t you excited to be a princess?”
Stella shakes her head rapidly. “I’m already a princess! Daddy always says so!”
“Yes, but you’re not a true princess unless you’re married to a prince.”
“That’s not fair! I am a princess!”
“How about I take you shopping and you can pick out whatever you want?”
Stella wipes her snot on her sleeve and nods.
The driver takes her and Mommy to her favorite store. She gets three new pretty dresses, and two dolls. She holds the dolls up to her face and smiles. They’re shiny and clean, with white porcelain faces. One of them has a pink beak like hers. She love love loves it. Mommy strokes her feathers and tells her she’s beautiful, and Stella does the same to the doll, whispering in its ear.
She grasps the dolls by their silky hair feathers as she sits for brunch. Imps pour them tea while Mommy complains about how slow the service is, just like always.
She sits her pretty new doll in the chair next to her, then gasps. Her doll’s hair is ruined! She looks terrible!
Stella screams and throws it at the nearest imp servant. It hits him in the face, cracking the porcelain. Now it’s really ruined. She sobs and pulls on Mommy’s skirt while Mommy yells at the imp for bleeding on the tablecloth. Why is the world so unfair? Why can’t Stella have anything?
When Stella hears Daddy’s footsteps, she calms down and jumps out of her chair to run toward him.
Daddy is often gone on his business trips for days at a time, which shouldn’t be allowed. She’s told him as much, and he always agrees with her, but then he leaves anyway. Grown ups are kind of stupid.
Daddy is big and strong, though, and what he says goes. Even Mommy can’t tell him he’s wrong. “How’s my perfect girl?” He asks.
“Bad.” She pouts. “You need to fix it!”
“What do you need? My little princess gets anything she wants.” He picks her up and holds her in his arms. “Would you like a new dollhouse?”
She settles her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want to get married.”
“Ah, I see. Well, maybe not now, but someday you will feel differently. When you’re a bit older, you’ll realize how lucky you are to have a little boy who will grow up with you and give you everything you ask for.”
“I don’t want to spend time with a stupid little boy.”
“Don’t worry, he will learn how to be a proper man that commands the household, just like you’ll learn how to be a proper lady. And then you’ll have an heir! A beautiful little child just like you, who you can dress up and have tea parties with.” He boops her on the beak.
“But why do I have to live in his palace? Why can’t I live here, with you and Mommy?”
“That’s just the way things are, sweetheart. Besides, his palace is much bigger than ours. You’ll love it, I promise.”
If Daddy says so, it must be true. She falls asleep and dreams of a beautiful palace full of people who adore her.
Stella doesn’t meet the prince until she’s almost 10. She and her mom head to King Paimon’s palace for their introductions. King Paimon isn’t even physically there—he’s in a mirror held up by an imp. Apparently he is too busy to meet with them in person.
Seeing the prince makes her feel strange. It’s not because of anything he does, exactly. He stands politely while her mom and King Paimon officially introduce the two of them to each other. He bows to her, even though he’s higher in status, so he’s not supposed to.
His feathers are dull and gray, not white like her daddy’s or blue like her mom’s, or any other proper color. He doesn’t have pupils, which bothers her. She can tell where her brother is looking without pupils, but for some reason, with the prince she can’t.
They stand awkwardly while their parents talk about grown up things. He squirms and pulls at his feathers. She stares at him intensely, waiting for him to speak.
“Um… are you afraid to get married?” He asks softly.
Her feathers bristle. “Of course not. We’re Goetia. We don’t need to be afraid of anything.” He frowns. She glares at him. “Unless you’re a coward.”
The prince wraps his arms around his chest anxiously. “I’m sorry. I only found out we were engaged a week ago, so I suppose I’m still… adjusting to the idea.”
Stella’s jaw drops. “A week? I’ve known about this since I was born!”
“Oh. Well, my father doesn’t visit much, so maybe he didn’t have time to mention it until now.”
“That’s no excuse. My daddy is busy a lot, but he still tells me all sorts of things.”
He looks at her curiously. “Like what?”
“He tells me how the world is supposed to be, I guess. And how to socialize. He knows pretty much everything.”
“I wish I had someone to tell me about the world. Everything I know is from books, or Mr. Butler,” the prince says, wringing his hands.
“Well… I guess I can teach you some things, then. But you’d better listen really carefully.”
Stella can tell that it will take a lot of work to mold this kid into a good husband. He’s very lucky to have her.
Stella watches all the couples dance at her parents’ yearly ball. There are no children at this particular party, so she has to stand to the side on her own. Soon, Stella and the prince will start their own dancing lessons together, but she’s watched these enough times that she thinks she’d be an expert if she tried.
When her mom passes by, Stella tugs on her dress. “I want to dance, too,” she begs.
“Andrealphus!”
“What?” Andrealphus sulks toward them, a trail of frost following behind him on the floor. He’s only recently come into his powers, and so far he seems intent on using them to be as dramatic as possible.
“Come dance with your sister.”
“Do I have to?” He groans. Mom shoots him a glare. “O-kay.”
Andrealphus leads Stella onto the dance floor and takes her hands. He doesn’t have a betrothed to practice with, so she’s pretty sure he has no idea what he’s doing. They try to step in time with the adults around them, but they can’t keep up. They hiss at each other each time they step on each other’s feet.
After the party ends, Stella twirls around her room, imagining the ballroom dance she’ll one day use at her wedding. Every time she passes by her mirror, she smiles at how well she matches its delicate white and pink edges. She is beautiful.
Suddenly, Stella gets the urge to stop in front of the mirror. She holds her dress out in front of her, imagining the bump of an egg there. She has no younger siblings, but occasionally one of her mom’s friends shows up to tea with a bump, and everyone fawns over her belly and tells her that she’s glowing.
She scrunches up her face and thinks for a minute. A birthday balloon still floats next to her bed from a few weeks ago. Pulling it down, she pushes it under her dress and spins around in the mirror again.
She feels a pit in her stomach, like when she eats too much. Is that what an egg feels like? If she thinks about it too hard, will it just appear there?
Panicking, she shoves the balloon to the ground, and stomps on it with her kitten heel until it pops. Then she stomps on it again and again until the plastic is ripped into tiny pieces on the floor.
Stella’s dad and King Paimon need to have a private talk about something. She doesn’t know what it is, but adults are always having Private Talks about things. So Stella and Prince Stolas must wait in the next room.
An imp tells Prince Stolas to mind his manners, and he nods, like the creature has the right to tell him what to do.
Stella sits against the wall, slumped with her legs wide in that unladylike way she isn’t normally allowed. She sighs loudly. Prince Stolas ignores her and keeps reading his book.
“I’m bored.” She snatches the book and holds it up out of reach.
He finally looks at her. “Hey!” He tries to grab the book back, but she stands up on her tippy toes and he almost falls forward. She grins.
“You’re such a klutz.” His eyes well up with tears. “Ugh, don’t be dramatic.” She throws it back at him and he wipes an arm over his eyes before picking it up, inspecting it carefully for damage. She pouts and crosses her arms. “Are you going to ignore me again? It’s very rude.”
His eyes widen. “Oh. I didn’t mean to. Do you want to play a game? We never have visitors so I don’t have many, but I have cards, and chess—“
“I don’t want to play chess. Don’t you have anything actually fun to do?”
“Well, what would you like to play?” He asks.
She pokes him in the stomach, and he cringes. “Don’t do that.” She laughs and pokes him again. “Stella—“ he tries to scoot away, so she pokes both of his sides with each of her hands. He cracks a smile. “We’re supposed to be quiet!”
Stella knows better. This isn’t a party, or a special event, and no one is watching them besides some imps, who obviously don’t count. So she slaps a hand on his shoulder and shouts “You’re it!”
“I—I’m what?”
She rolls her eyes. “Have you never played tag?” He shakes his head. Lucifer, he is so clueless. “Look, it’s simple. You’re it, so you chase me. If you manage to tag me, then I’m it, and I get to chase you. Make sense?”
“Oh! Yes, sounds simple enough!”
She runs out into the hallway, ignoring the imp that calls after her. Prince Stolas’ feet tip tap behind her. At first, she’s worried that he won’t catch up, but then she slips on the polished floor and he manages to tap her on the back. She turns around slowly, dramatically, and does her most evil grin.
Tiny white pupils appear in his eyes for a second, and then he starts running. She runs after him, screaming with glee. She can tell by looking at his little fluffy legs that he’ll be much easier to beat than her brother. His breaths are loud and fast, but he’s laughing in between them.
She tackles him, and they both roll across the floor, still giggling. She pushes his head into the ground. “Ow—have mercy, please—“
“I won! That means you have to give me a prize!”
“Doeshn’t that just mean I’m ‘it’ again?” Prince Stolas says, his cheek smushed to the floor.
“No, it means I win. And as my future husband, you have to agree with me. You should know this.”
She lets go of his head and he turns to face her. “Alright. You win.” Her heart flutters.
“What are you doing?” A loud voice exclaims. “Roughousing in the halls like a couple of poors?”
Paimon stands in front of them. He towers over them, bigger and scarier than even her dad.
Prince Stolas scrambles to stand up. “I’m sorry, father. It won’t happen again.”
“Hm, yes. See that it doesn’t.”
She frowns. “But I was having fun!”
“Goetia don’t need fun. We have money,” says King Paimon.
Prince Stolas nods and hangs his head silently, like a coward. Some prince.
For a split second, Stella feels a hole open inside of her chest. It’s gone just as quickly. King Paimon has a point. Of course he does—he’s a king.
The next day, she asks her mom for a picture of Prince Stolas, and her mom showers her with praise for coming around to the idea of marrying him. She pins the picture up on her wall and throws darts at it until she can’t see his face anymore. Her aim is getting better.
Stella is busy all of the time. She hates her useless reading and math lessons. Her etiquette lessons are much more practical. She’s going to be a housewife, so she needs to have good posture, and know how to throw parties and greet guests and do her makeup well.
Her parents always praise her for how social she is at their parties, while the other teenagers sit in the corner looking bored. Her parents’ friends compliment them on their lovely daughter, who never complains about her dress being itchy, and stands correctly, and only speaks at the right times. Once she’s an adult, she’ll be able to speak any time she wants. That’s just how it works.
Her figure skating lessons are okay, although Andrealphus always upstages her, and then she has to throw a fit just to get attention. Art lessons are dull. Horse riding is gross and dirty. When she’s a real princess, she will never have to do anything dirty or difficult. Everything will be easy.
Stolas doesn’t like her. He may be the only person in the world who doesn’t like her. Whenever she goes to joined lessons with other Goetia, they all laugh at her jokes and gossip with her. But Stolas just wants to talk about his boring books, and when she yells he always flinches back, like he has any right to be afraid of her. Like she isn’t trapped there with him.
Dad says he will grow out of it and soon realize that Stella is the most beautiful and lovely girl out there. Andrealphus says it’s because he’s a faggot.
Their parents arrange dates for them—always with chaperones, of course. Every time, Stolas looks a little taller, and feels a little further away. Sometimes, she remembers the fluffy kid that played tag with her, and wonders what he would do if she chased him now.
She doesn’t try, of course. Goetia are dignified, and they don’t run in public.
She stomps back into the palace and throws herself on a plush couch, scowling. She throws a hand out facing up, and an imp runs over to place her afternoon cup of tea in it.
“How was your outing with Prince Stolas?” Her mom asks.
“He’s pathetic and boring.” She crosses her arms and huffs. She feels a pit in her stomach. That has been happening more lately, and she hates hates hates feeling that way. “You promised he would stop being pathetic and boring!”
“Well, you’re going to have to learn to get along with him eventually.”
“No!” Stella shouts, suddenly overflowing with rage. She throws her teacup toward her mom and hears it smash on the ground.
“Stella, these tantrums aren’t cute anymore. Stand up and act like a proper Goetia.”
Stella stands and screams, “Why can’t you just find me someone else?”
Her mom glares at her. Stella sees the shadow of a figure coming up behind her, and she knows she’s free. Now that she’s older and taller, her dad shouldn’t seem so large, but he does. It makes her feel safe. Dad makes the rules, and he always votes in her favor.
“Stella.” He speaks in a grave voice—one he’s never used with her. She turns slowly. Magic crackles off of him like sparks, and for the first time in her life, Stella becomes truly aware of the power she lacks. “There is no other option. You are marrying Prince Stolas, and that’s final. Understood?”
She takes a step back. After a minute of silence, she nods.
“And for Lucifer’s sake, be more grateful. We’ve done a great thing for you here. Your status will rise more with him than any of your other peers.”
“…Yes, dad.”
“Good.” He pats her on the head, animosity vanishing.
When Stella is 16, she goes to a lot of weddings. Sometimes, Stolas is there, wearing all black and moping about like he’s at some kind of—well, whatever ceremony is held for creatures who die. As betrothed, they have to sit next to each other, and it’s dreadfully awkward. It’s also humiliating, watching all the other boys compliment their future wives like proper Goetia men, while he always forgets. Stella spends most of her time looking at the decorations and the dresses and deciding what will make her wedding the most special and beautiful of all.
Stolas does not appear at the wedding of her friends Camio and Amy. He’s busy doing some sort of exam with his Grimoire.
Her friends act appropriately during the wedding, but at the dinner after, they’re all over each other.
“I’m so glad my parents chose you for me,” Camio coos, gazing into his new wife’s eyes. They nuzzle their beaks together and his hand rubs Amy’s thigh. If Stella had been born a couple of years earlier, perhaps she would be matched with Camio instead, and Amy would have to drag Stolas around like dead weight.
Stella exclaims that she’s so happy for the couple, and then goes home to spend the night shit-talking them with Andrealphus.
On the day of their wedding, Stella sees Stolas’ face and almost trips walking down the isle. It went perfectly every time she practiced, but of course he has to ruin this moment for her. She tries to find him after so she can tell him off for it, but he’s missing. Good riddance.
She parades around Stolas’ giant, unfamiliar ballroom without him, and laughs with her friends about it. Her friends tell her that men always get cold feet at weddings. Once they go on their honeymoon and get to the good part, he’ll see things differently, they insist.
She dances and drinks expensive wine that tastes bad, because that’s what adults do. She doesn’t think about what she has to do next. She tries not to feel a pit in her stomach.
After everyone leaves, an imp informs her that Stolas has already gone to sleep in the master bedroom.
Stella sweeps up the stairs slowly, a little tipsy still, and stops in front of the bedroom door. She has never entered this part of the palace before. For the first time, she and Stolas will be totally alone together.
Stella is a trophy to be put on a shelf, and she knows this. She has prepared her whole life for it. But, despite all the signs, she never prepared to be an unwanted one.
She braces herself. They have a job to complete, and one of them has to be an adult about this. She takes a deep breath in. Then she storms into the room.