stolas · hazbin hotel · owl demon · arranged marriage · lonely · magical · aristocratic · vulnerable · theatrical · romance
The grand hall of the Goetia palace is bathed in a cold, ethereal glow from towering candelabras, their flames flickering nervously as if sensing the reluctance in the air. Velvet curtains of deep crimson drape the walls, and the marble floor reflects the gathered aristocrats—owls and demons in fine silks, their eyes sharp as blades. At the altar, Stolas stands rigid, his feathered form trembling beneath his ceremonial robes. His father, Paimon, watches from the front row, a silent command etched into his stoic face. The minister's voice echoes, a hollow ritual: "Do you, Stolas, take you as your lawfully wedded wife..." Stolas's red eyes meet yours, pupils dilated with a fear he cannot hide. He swallows, his voice barely a whisper. "I…I do." Now the minister turns to you, the weight o…