Anyone else scared AF for the season 3 trailer in a few hours? I'm ready to go, I'm excited, and there are SOOOO many characters I'm very anxious about. Stolas, Blitz, and Fizz...I'm lookin' at the three of you.
Why is Blitzo weak? In the first seasons he faced Striker, Dhorks, and Andrealphus. Now in the short film he got beaten by Moxxie and Millie, and in the trailer he was all bandaged up bringing a plant to Stolas, and in a leak I saw from season 3 (may be fake) he can't beat Alessio who defends everything with his tail, he ends up being captured by Crimson and has to be rescued by Vassago.
My options:
#1 he's rusty because he's talking care of Stolas so he Doens't have time to Train
#2 Or he's holding back against Striker, saving his strength for the rematch against the Cowboy of Wrath as revenge for him hospitalizing Stolas.
#3 He's taking a break from killing because he no longer sees the job as practical.
#4 Grieving for his mother Tilla. Now that he's taking care of Stolas and doesn't have to worry about the Imp's business or his past relationships, he has time to think and can no longer accept the grief for his mother Tilla. He's become discouraged, he's lost the will to kill, he no longer sees the Imp as a practical job, he's falling into depression and needs therapy.
Now for the craziest ones:
#5 He discovered something about himself, like he's on the verge of a breakdown and to avoid freaking out he's holding back, but he won't be able to for much longer.
#6 He's dying. His hybrid blood has taken its toll and he urgently needs an operation.
But I'm exaggerating the last ones. Overall, I think the grief one is the most likely, if it's not a joke.
Octavia sighed sadly at the birthday cake on a plate in front of her. It was white with pink-rimmed frosting on the three layers. Two large orange candles on the top made up an “18.” The cake had been made by the imp butlers and the royal family cook. Octavia had her black feathery hair in a ponytail and her eyes glowed pink. She wore a small gold crown on her head and a new bluish-white dress with starry sparkles on it. She wore a black choker collar around her neck.
The princess recalled her previous birthdays: happily blowing out candles on a cake when she turned 13, smiling with Stolas next to her, opening presents with him, her as a little kid with both her parents giving her hugs…
Now she was all alone, a teen entering adulthood. No singing nor acknowledgement from her mother nor uncle. After the imp servants sang to her in the empty dining room, she dismally blew out the candles.
Stolas was still exiled from the Goetia family for the illegal use of his grimoire to help the imps enter the human world, neglecting his astronomy duties and for associating with a lower-class imp. Ever since their last fight during Sinsmas, Octavia had tried to distract herself from any thoughts about her Dad. She would drown out her tears with rock music from her iPad.
She would sing somberly in the privacy of her room with her guitar on her lap.
“No, I am not okay,
No, I am not okay today
If I had the perfect Dad
He’d still be here to ease my fear, ooh
If the imp is who you’d fight to save
If facing court made you feel brave
Do you still feel genuine and kind
After you left me behind?
I need you now more than ever before
But because of you, I shut the door
You and Blitz are distant stars
And I won’t see you anymore
“No, I am not okay,
No, I am not okay today
Where did you go?
Why are you far away?
Mother never cared for me
I’m an asset, something temporary
As they dress me up like a porcelain doll
I wonder where you are after your fall.
Are you happy with him now, Dad?
In a life outside these walls?
I try to reach you, hear you
But Mother blocks the calls
If I could see your face one last time
To give me some hope in this nightmare
Please give me a sign, Dad, that you’re okay
A sign you truly care…”
Stolas had reached out desperately to her, begging for her forgiveness and love.
Now it was too late. Octavia wasn’t sure she could endure Stella’s mocking taunts about her father’s exile and her hideous shrieks of “Hilarious!” much longer.
“I’m better off without him,” she thought. “He nearly gave up his life for that stupid imp lover of his. And maybe I am just an extra burden to him.”
She sadly chewed her piece of cake. It tasted too sweet…like a pathetic attempt to hide the bitter flavor of her day.
Draped in teal robes with white fur, Andrealphus the peacock marquis was bragging about his giant self-portraits in the halls and his ice statues that gleamed and posed in the lifeless garden outside. Without Stolas and his plants around, Octavia’s home no longer felt warm and familial. The castle had become a cavernous cage.
Octavia stared at her empty plate and the imp servant took it away.
“Octavia!”
Octavia snapped up as she stared at Stella. Stella wore a frilly pink dress, a pearl necklace and a golden crown on her head.
“Oh good, you’re finished and now eighteen,” she said with a sway. “Now without that pathetic excuse of a prince, it’s time to begin!”
She clapped her hands and several imp servants led Octavia to her dressing room. There, she sat in front of a large ornate mirror as the female imps did her hair, curled her eyelashes, smoothed her sparkly dress, and tightened her undergarments. Her black high heels felt like knives digging into her feet.
She practiced, posed, and praised for what felt like hours.
“Stand up straight and tall, girl!” Stella called as Octavia practiced her elegant walk. “Straight face, gaze with a hint of sternness and authority. Do not show any weakness or immaturity. Just because you’re a bratty teen doesn’t mean you get to ruin my reputation more than it already is!”
Later, Octavia watched in shock as Stella stormed into her room and began to tear down some of Octavia’s old gothic rock band posters.
“This shit needs to go. And this childish junk! Out with this! And this!”
Globes, telescopes, taxidermized animals and drawings clattered to the bedroom floor.
“This is my room!” Octavia protested.
“And this is my palace!” Stella replied with her hands on her hips.
Andrealphus cleared his throat from behind her.
“Erm, me and my moronic brother’s. And as the next heir, I will not allow your mind to be steered off the proper track. Ugh, what in the nine circles is this…?”
“HEY! THAT WAS ONE OF MY FIRST COLLECTABLES!” Octavia stormed over to where Stella was holding a taxidermized brown owl.
“Oh, ho, ho! This old thing looks like something Stolas shat out!” Stella guffawed. “Aside from you of course.” She tossed it behind her into a trash can and two servants carried it off.
Stella was about to reach for Octavia’s guitar and some of old drawings…
“No proper princess has need of those…”
“NO!” Octavia cried, darting in front. “No, mother, please!”
Stella smirked at Octavia’s aghast face. “Perhaps I’ll let you keep those things…and maybe even your phone if you follow my instructions!”
Octavia fumed and folded her arms. “Fine!”
“Consider this your inevitable punishment for daring to fight against me!” Andrealphus warned. “Which reminds me…”
Octavia then found herself partially frozen to a chair as Andrealphus instructed her on magic and astronomy.
“You need to bring your magic under control,” he told her.
Octavia broke free of the ice as a purple and black magic burst from her hands. But she relented as Stella tauntingly held Octavia’s guitar over the open outside window.
“Mortal destinies are not always set in stone,” Andrealphus lectured as Octavia studied maps and diagrams. “When Mars conflicts with Uranus, expect rises in battles and technology. And be sure to be extra careful during solar and lunar eclipses as magic can be unpredictable. When you track the infernal comets across the sky…”
He sneered as she began to doze off, “…it points to disaster for those who don’t pay attention!”
Octava would have been relieved to be free of her uncle’s icy grip if not for the most grueling parts of the afternoon.
“Pinky finger raised up as you sip your cup of tea,” Stella instructed. “Let the higher ups speak first, wait for your permission to speak. Do not instigate war or conflict…consider what is best for King Paimon and the majority of the Goetia. You’ll be taking over Stolas’ duties to read the stars and his possessions…”
Greed flashed in Stella’s eyes. “…must be secured in the right hands.”
“And might I add that with Stolas stripped of his powers, someone worthy enough will need to be a suitable new prince?” Andrealphus bragged.
“You’ll always be a mere marquis,” Stella cut in. “The Goetia don’t need any gay Elsas.”
“You’re such an old cow!” Andrealphus mocked his sister. “Without your marriage to Stolas, you’re not even an official Goetia! Your moody daughter’s your best hope at the moment!” He chuckled as Stella fumed.
Stella leaned in close to Octavia and hissed. “And that is why for everyone’s sake, she will not…mess…things…up.”
Octavia gulped.
Law, fashion, magic, diplomacy, meetings, etiquette…it went on and on.
But after all of the instruction was finished, Octavia didn’t think things could get worse.
The rotary phone rang from the kitchen. A butler brought it over to Stella. Stella smiled, thinking it was one of her friends she gossiped with.
“Hello!”
Stella then froze. “Oh, King Paimon, my Lord, you have news.”
Octavia froze as well. Her heart beat in her chest and her gut became heavy with dread.
“Please, please don’t let him be dead…” she muttered.
“Yes, Stolas is still alive, banished, good riddance,” Stella replied. “Oh no, no,” she laughed nervously. “Those rumors about me hiring a hitman to kill him, toss them aside. We may not get along, but I’d never do something like that. In fact…”
Stella froze. “Oh, sorry, sir. Continue. Yes, my daughter is now eighteen. Yes, I’m training her as we speak. She’ll be ready.”
Her face turned pale and for a moment, Octavia saw her hands shake and her voice quiver. “Yes, sir, I know what comes next. I’ll tell her. Preparations will be in order like you say. Okay, thank you, my Lord, I’ll let her know. Good night.”
Stella slammed the phone and took a shaking breath. She shoved aside an imp servant. The silence was as icy as Andrealphus’ décor.
Without a word, Stella led Octavia toward a large full-body mirror. Octavia hardly recognized the shaken dolled up princess standing in front of her. Gone was the starry dress and the black worn jacket and the black beanie she always wore. Her crown already felt heavy on her head.
And…was that pity in Stella’s eyes for a moment?!
“Octavia…” she said. “There is still one more thing to know, now that you’re of age. Along with astronomy, magic and duties, you’ll also be going through the same rite of passage that me and Stolas did…”
Octavia’s eyes went wide with horror. “No, fuck, no, it can’t be…marriage?!”
“An arranged, marriage, yes,” Stella couldn’t hide a scowl. “I was arranged to your father when I was your age. You remind me of him at that age: gothic, rebellious, head in your dark clouds. So ridiculous! I produced an heir, which was you. I raised you and saw that Stolas did his work. I followed every rule to the letter…and look where it got me. An abandoned heartbroken wife whose dignity is at risk of being dragged through the mud.”
She smoothed out Octavia’s dress.
“King Paimon has decided that in one week, you will meet your future husband…and move in with him…and make another heir like me…”
“NO, NO, I WON’T DO IT!” Octavia stepped back. She clenched her fists.
Stella raised her hand to slap her but paused. “DON’T YOU GET IT, BRAT? YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CHOICE! To keep Stolas’ grimoire, continue his legacy, to stay a Goetia, you must adhere to the traditions that have kept Hell burning for centuries. Do you want both of us exiled like garbage? Ridiculed and stripped of our powers like that asshole Stolas?”
“DON’T CALL HIM THAT! HE’S MY DAD!”
“NOT ANYMORE, HE’S NOT!”
Octavia shook and Stella gripped her shoulder. “You have to face the hard truth, dear. Royal life was too much for him, so he cheated. He made his choice to run off with the imp and abandon us. Abandon you.”
Stella wiped a tear from Octavia’s eye.
“He was willing to die to live a life without you. I’m your mother. Like me or not, I’m all you have left. There is nowhere else for you to go. No safe place, no friends, nowhere.”
Silence. Octavia knew she was right.
Stella held Octavia’s hand. “I hate this as much as you do. But it is up to you whether you want to follow my lead or bear the burden alone.”
But if she could somehow find a way to escape…
“And don’t think of running away!” Andrealphus mentioned. “I’ve been practicing making ice walls and spells.”
A picture appeared on a table in a flash of golden magic. Paimon’s sigil was on the back. Stella took it and gasped.
Stella sighed, turning back to her daughter. “Don’t delay the inevitable, Octavia. Stolas is gone. He’s never coming back. You are never to interact with those common imps ever again.”
Stella pulled out a picture and Octavia reeled back in disgust.
“Paimon sent me this. This is Balal, son of Prince Gaap. After Stolas’ embarrassing betrayal, perhaps a bonding of families will help keep things stable for a while.”
A young black crow demon stood with a mischievous grin on his face. He wore a black suit and green tie, a gold crown and his eyes glowed red. He held a glass of wine in one hand and a scepter in the other. Next to him were books, but not the astronomy, astrology and plant books Octavia adored. They were books on dark magic, poisonous plants, wealth and pranks.
Stella sighed.
“Best hope that he’ll treat you right and not cheat like your father did. At best, I can help you use your magic for self-defense. As long as you follow the rules…just know I won’t be responsible for your safety much longer…”
A life without Stolas, Stella and Andrealphus? Forced to bear her own child and drown herself in duties until dying forgotten?
Octavia stared helplessly at Stella, her lips trembling. Stella’s mouth curled up into a grin as she stroked Octavia under her chin.
