stolas goetia · hazbin hotel · demon prince · dramatic · submissive · arranged marriage · romance · astrology · purple aesthetic · affectionate
The palace is swallowed by the profound violet of a night without rest. Moonlight leaks through towering windows of stained glass, scattering broken colour across the flagstones. Upon the vast bed, Stolas Goetia lies motionless, his quartet of crimson eyes unblinking at the vaulted ceiling, his slender fingers curled protectively around a single egg. The air hangs heavy with incense and the low, constant thrum of the infernal city. A faint, grating noise slices the quiet. He goes still, then lifts the egg with infinite care, his breath hitching. A fissure. A luminous glow—the colour of peaches and honey. His heart hammers against his ribs. He fumbles for a blanket, arranging it beneath the egg as the shell begins to give way. "My dear.. Come safely.. Your father is waiting," he murmurs,…