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Chapter Text

The overlord meeting had dragged on far too long to justify what little was actually accomplished, but Henrietta knew that was going to be the case. She hadn't a clue why Carmilla continued to host them. There was a clear divide among the overlords, and no side was ever going to truly see eye to eye. She did not linger to speak to her friends, as she usually would, ignoring the looks from Carmilla and Rosie boring into her back as she left the room. Her eyes stayed down-turned as she entered the elevator. Eye contact was an invitation, and she didn't want to continue prattling on any further. Her blooms surrounded her like the petals of a flower, white dresses contrasting with the dark color pallet of her own. All of them were covered chest to ankle in an effort to dissuade prying eyes.

She stepped onto the streets, still lost in her own head. The Lady mulled over the pointlessness of it all. The meetings, the politics, the grandstanding. If she shut herself up in her home for the rest of eternity, would it even make a difference? Would anyone care? Her business practically ran itself now, and her closest girls were grown. They could take over in her stead. There wasn't much left for her in this world, anyway, with it's cacophony of sound and blinding lights, Vox's infuriating face beaming down maliciously at her from every street corner. She glared at one of the led bill boards as she waited for her carriage to arrive, only to become distinctly aware that the static eyes from above weren't the only eyes on her.

There was a man across the street. It was hard to tell by the looks of him, his from gnarled and mostly shrouded in shadow. But she caught sight of that familiar leer that made her blood run cold. All men shared that expression, looking at the stocking-clothed legs of one of her blooms like he couldn't wait to dig into the succulent thigh meat hidden beneath their skirts. A growl rumbled in her chest, and her hands twitched, but her expression stayed impassive. She forced herself still, taking a deep breath and averting her gaze. Her carriage was not late to arrive, and soon it's glossy black visage was blocking her version. She silently entered once the foot-woman opened the door, settling in near the opposite side window. A better view to watch the strangers head splatter as one of the Bloom's bullets split his skull. The gory mess was sure to cause a scene. She could already see those who had been walking by him suddenly realize what had happened when they felt brain-matter splatter onto their bodies. No matter how frequently they happened, a Hemlocke murder was always sure to make headlines. Henrietta made sure of that. Preserving her reputation was key in the protection of her district.

She left pandemonium in her wake, and still she felt nothing.

The most recent bout with the Radio Demon went about as well as Sir Pentious suspected. The snake demon was certain one day he'd get the slip on that damned deer, although such beliefs were since unfounded. His head was still spinning from both the blast and the impact of falling through someone's roof. His slitted pupils narrowed- fuck, he had crashed through someone's roof, hadn't he? And that someone was still in the room with him. He could feel the cold gaze of someone powerful boring in to the back of his head.
His torso turned to scan the admittedly cramped space he'd found himself in. He noticeably winced as he felt splintered wood pressing threateningly into his tail, which was still hanging out the hole he'd made.
His eyes widened as they locked with the person who's space he'd intruded. Lady Henreitta Hemlocke cut such an imposing figure at this angle, her black orbs staring impassively down at Pentious. Her expression was unreadable, but the snake knew of her reputation. Who in hell didn't? The overlord was notorious for her distaste in men, and he was certain that crashing in on her was not the way to make a good impression.

"L-lady Hemlocke!" He slammed his head to the ground so quickly he knew a bump was bound to be forming on his head. He hoped the impact was hidden well by his flared hood. "I beg your forgiveness, your grace! I did not mean to drop in ssssso ssssudenly! I will not make excusssssssesss-" God, how he hated how his hiss got worse when he was nervous. He swallowed thickly, as if that would help, before immediately continuing his groveling. "I am not worthy to be in the presssssence of your greatnesssss! I only plead you have mercy on a lowlife ssssssuch asssss mysssself!"
'Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm abssssolutely dead. She'ssss going to invent new forms of torture for me sssssspecifically. She's going to ssssend me to sssuper hell.' His internal monologe continued, backing his desperate pleading for his life. He was quickly getting whipped into quite a tizzy, tears pouring down his face as he begged for his life.
Henreitta did not know where this man had come from. Her confusion was only momentarily expressed on her face, brow furrowing at the sudden presence. The carriage had screeched to a stop shortly after the impact, but she didn't think the snake even noticed. He was clearly aware of who she was, but the pathetic way he flung himself to the ground and cried won her favor. She sent the mental message to her guards not to intervene. She doubted he was much of a threat.
"Silence." Her voice suddenly cut through his sobs. The snake slammed his mouth shut, lip quivering, teeth digging in to hold back the whines and whimpers that continued to threaten to escape. "Are you alright?"
"I think ssssso." Sir Pentious responded, his voice still warbling like one would expect from someone crying that hard just moments before. He tried to move, wincing again. This time the sound of cracking wood accompanied the shifting of his tail, and he whimpered again. The look in his eyes as they tried to avoid catching hers was endearingly pathetic.
"Stop moving." Her voice was still commanding, but there was an edge of warmth inching in. The tone was almost maternal, and realizing that made an uncomfortable knot form in the serpents throat.
Pentious flinched when he stood. She carefully stepped past him, and he respectfully averted his eyes, even shielding his face with his hood so that he could not even an attempt to sneak a peak at her ankles. He hadn't had to think about that specific blunder in years. The soft shift of her skirts as they brushed against his head sent a shiver down his spine. 'She is definitely going to sssssend me to ssssuper hell.' He swallowed thickly, chancing a sideways glance at her as she felt her hands against his tail.
Henrietta assessed the situation, and how exactly he was stuck. He was such a long creature, large even amongst the usual sinners in hell. She carefully slid her palms over his scales, getting a good enough grip that she could heft it free. The snake groaned at the sensation, pulling his torso further upright so that he could watch what she was doing.
She sunk back onto the velvet upholstered carriage seat. His tail draped over her lap, her hands gently pressing at the area that was caught on the splintered wood. He leaned against the bottom of the seats, watching in awe as the overlord carefully picked the splinters from his scales, soft fingertips assessing the bruised skin with a furrowed browed pout. She was absolutely beautiful, her hands so gentle. It was hard to believe any overlord, let alone one known to be as fearsome as the Duchess of Poison, was capable of such kindness- especially against a overzealous nobody like him.
He felt his face heating up and he tried to hide his furious blush in the crook of his arm, turning his torso to face the seat. His hood fluttered, lifting enough to help cover his face. It was absolutely embarrassing how touch starved the poor man was. Even the sensation of a beautiful woman tending to surface level wounds was enough to get him terribly flustered. His muscles tensed, trying to keep parts of him hidden even as they fought to reveal himself. He couldn't imagine what she'd do if she knew he was getting aroused by this.

“You're quite resilient.” She said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, considering she was speaking to a man. She'd worried that his sudden entrance might have been a purposeful threat, but seeing the state he was in, and the way he sobbed and groveled, that assumption did not hold water for long. The praise did not help the knot forming in his abdomen, and the only noise he managed to emit when he opened his mouth to thank her was a whimper.

“You have a few cuts, but they're very shallow. Still, I would like to apply a salve to them to aid in their healing. Would you like that?”

“You really don't have to-”

“I am aware I don't have to.” Her stern voice cut off his protest before he had even finished his sentence. His shut his mouth quickly, strangling back another embarrassing whimper. “That is not what I asked. I asked if you would like me to.”

He was silent for a long moment, not trusting his mouth to create actual speech. Shame was woven into the fabric of his being, and right now he felt it wrapping around him so tightly he felt like be could suffocate. Yet another loss to the Radio Demon, how flustered he was getting from being shown simple, basic kindness, the general litany of failures that hammered home how much of a pathetic failure he was- they all swirled around in his head, and he felt tears overwhelming him before be could stop them. Of course, crying in front of the Lady was making things worse- ignoring the fact that he'd started the conversation crying.

“Oh, dear,” she frowned, lips etching deeper lines into her face when he flinched as she reached for him. She carefully took his face in her hands, guiding him closer while trying not to jostle the end of his tail too much. “There, there. I know you must've had an awful day, but there's no need to cry.” She wiped his flowing tears away with her thumbs, but that only made him cry harder. She clicked her tongue and pulled back, tapping the cushion beside her.

“Come here.”

“W-what?” His voice was wet and warbling, only able to speak through his sobs due to how shocked her command had left him.

“I said, come here.” She demanded a bit more firmly, and he felt compelled to comply. Her arms wrapped around him, one sliding up his back and beneath his hood to guide his head to her shoulder. The other rubbed firm, slow lined up and down his back.

The snake stiffened, scared to move, scared to even breath. This was the most unexpected thing she'd done yet, especially since the only thing he'd expected was a quick and immediate death. He felt himself trembling, and he tried to force it to stop, scared any slight movement would offend her and she'd descend on him like he was naught but quarry.

“Come now. Let it out. You're safe here.” Her soothing voice snapped him out of it. The tears began anew, his third fit of sobs slowly taking over his body. He slowly wrapped around her in a tight hug, proprietary forgotten as she offered her warm embrace. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged. It seemed like it had been a century, and it damn well might have been. When you've been dead as long as he had, the decades started to blend together. And he'd been alone for so much of his afterlife.

Henrietta was struck by how natural this felt. She could count on one hand how many men she'd felt safe enough to be in this close contact with, excluding those she had a direct hand in raising. And yet something in her compelled her to hold this simpering man in her arms until he ceased crying. She wasn't completely at ease, wary still of how easily he could constrict his tail or dig in his fangs. It wouldn't end well for him, but at such close proximity he could try. Still, for some strange reason, she felt that she didn't have any cause for concern.

“There we are,” she said as his sobs died down. She gave his back a firm pat before gently nudging him away. With a flick of her wrist, she'd summoned a handkerchief, wiping the tears from his soaked face. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, biting back another pathetic whimper. He felt entirely defeated, but somehow much lighter. The conflicting feelings afflicting him made his stomach turn. He searched her face, cheeks flushing once more, before he blurted out the question he'd been holding back. “Why are you being ssssso nicccce to me?”

“I'm not a monster.” She says softly, her tone retaining that same stern warmth that made him feel very strangely inside. “I know you might have been informed differently, but I can be moved to kindness when kindness is required.”

“I-I never meant to imply that you were a monssssster! I-I just-” he took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed. “Why… me? No one is ever kind to me. Not that I make it exactly eassssssy for people to get closssssse enough to try. Itss just-” he'd been wringing his hands as he talked, averting his eyes, hood flaring for a second then drooping against his back.

“You seemed like you needed it.” She didn't wait for him to continue explaining. The way his still wet eyes sparkled when he looked at her, his cheeks red, expression bordering on awe- it made her heart skip a beat before the organ began pounding aggressively against it's cage. This was such a sudden, new feeling, and for now she swallowed it back.

“Now, let me continue caring for your wounds.” She stood up, lifting her skirts as she stepped over part of his long tail. She frowned at the debris, and with a wave of her hand the carriage was miraculously fixed. Sir Pentious couldn't help but wish it was that easy to fix all the destruction he caused. From a hidden compartment above the opposite seat, she procured a sizable first aide kit. She sat beside him again, and this time he willingly lifted his tail back into her lap, demonstrating some of its prehensile ability and causing her to pause as she assessed what else it might be capable of.

“This might sting a little,” She said in a way a school nurse might. She soaked a clean rag with astringent and began dabbing at the shallow gouges in his tail. He hissed at the feeling, his tongue even sticking out. His hood flared, and he gripped the seat cushion with tense claws.

“I don't believe you ever gave me your name,” The rush of shame he felt at her comment threatened to make him cry again, but he didn't think he had any tears left. His head ached from the sobbing anyway, so he managed to fight the feeling off.

“Forgive my impropriety, my lady! I am Sir Pentious,” part of him wanted to put on his usual bravado, introducing himself with the flare of a showman, but he felt zapped of both willpower and enthusiasm. “I'm an inventor.” He didn't know why he added that last part, but he needed to say something. She'd started soothing a thick salve onto the wounds, and the feel of the medication and her gentle hands on his scales was doing him in again. The last couple feet of his tail were far more sensitive, allowing him better range of motion for grabbing things with it, and that's where the worst of the wounds happened to be.

“An inventor? How fascinating.” She seemed genuinely impressed, in a way that people never were about Pen and his creations. He felt hope strangling his heart, gripping it like a vice, but he refused to acknowledge what that hope was for. “What sort of things do you enjoy making?”

“Weaponssss, mossssstly.” He replied, hoping the way his voice pitched upward on the second hiss wasn't noticeable. He didn't think it was possible for his cheeks to get any darker. He was avoiding looking at her with the eyes on his face, but the ones adorning his tail couldn't tear their gaze away. She could even swear the pupils looked like little hearts as she examined them for further injury. “P-perhaps you've seen my war machine flying overhead! It'ssssss my magnum opussss!”

“Oh!” She gasped, eyes alight as she looked at him. He turned to meet her gaze and almost wished she hadn't. She looked genuinely impressed. Like she hadn't just purposely inflected her tone to sound like she cared in order to make fun of him when he began to ramble. “The large zeppelin? I was wondering who was responsible for that! It looks like such a fascinating piece of technology, Sir Pentious. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” he squeaked out, scared if he said anymore it would come out embarrassing. The praise sent a jolt of heat rushing in two separate directions, and he had circled back to being ashamed at how desperate for affection he was.

She finished bandaging up without much more of a fuss. Part of her wanted to instruct the carriage to take them both home, but that was a bit too imprudent. She needed to analyze this initial infatuation, and gather more information about the adorable snake at the center of it, before she could entertain that idea. So instead, she cleared her throat, cheeks flaring red at the awkwardness.

“I suppose it's time I send you off,” she stood and gathered his hat, dusting it off and leveling a curious glance at the headwear's near lovesick expression as it looked back at her. She handed it back to him, and he carefully held in his claws, hunched forward as he awkwardly slithered out of the carraige.

He turned to where she stood in the doorway and cleared his throat. “Thank you for your kindness and mercy, Lady Hemlocke. It is truly something I will not forget.” He said with a courtly bow. He knew he meant it. He could feel how deeply in his head she'd now cemented herself, and his heart ached at the thought that this would be the last time they'd ever see each other. ‘Who am I kidding? She probably wouldn't even want to see me again.’

“The pleasure was all mine,” ‘She's lying’ “I don't think I'll forget you any time soon, either.” ‘She doesn't mean it.’ Pen wished his internal monologue would shut up, wished he could just let himself believe what she said to him. But as he watched the carriage retreat down the street, he felt that pessimistic inner voice eclipse all rational thought.

‘Who could ever love you?’

Chapter Text

“Ssssso there I wass,”

“Barbecue sauce on ya tiddies?”

“Do you want me to tell the story or not, sssssspider?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Angel Dust swallowed his giggle fit with another swig of his cocktail. It was something sweet and fruity, but nothing he could put a name on. The bartender had a knack for serving up drinks that were perfect for the person asking for one. He shot a glance at the barcat, watching him place the spotless glass he’d been idly cleaning down and lean over the bar for a better angle to listen in on the ensuing conversation. “Go on, Sir Pentious. The stage is yours.”

The serpent let out a strong huff and stiffened his shoulders, straightening his posture in his chair. “Assss I was saying-”

I had managed to successfully infiltrate the overlord gala. I don’t know what goddess of luck shined upon me that day, but somehow I slithered in relatively unnoticed. I’m certain that someone must have seen me, but I was fortuitous that no one raised the alarm. I had even managed to place every single explosive that I’d prepared. I was allowing myself a little monologue celebrating my success-

“C’mon, you have to recreate the monologue!” Angel’s insistence drew a groan from the serpent. Pen could feel his face burning, embarrassment etching itself into every facet of her expression. He remembered it, of course- how many times had he practiced it within the safety of his airship in preparation for the big day, but the memory of his fumblings had his stomach churning like the sea before a storm. Making it worse was how earnest Angel seemed. Once there would be signs of derision, and although the spider was clearly amused, it was far friendlier than Pentious was yet used to. It hadn’t even been a full month and the general friendliness of the hotel residents was still taking him off guard, especially since he’d considered many of them enemies up until his disastrous spying attempt blew up in his face.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“All the explosives seem to be in place and online. Perhaps my eggbois are good for sssssomething. With this detonator, I will send this gala and everyone in it sky high. They’ll never know what happened until they see me laughing amongst the rubble- the architect of terror, the great Sir Pentious! Finally, these critics and naysayers will be forced to give me the respect I deserve!”

He let a villainous cackle rip from his throat and tired not to let Angel’s encouraging applause shatter the semblance of insecurity that welled up inside of him. It always felt so right at the time, but right now he felt… well, silly. Silly and stupid.

I was about to press the detonator when I heard her. “Sir Pentious?” The Lady Hemlocke had said, her voice soft and curious- but not at all accusatory. I was certain she must have heard at least part of what I said, but if that were the case she certainly didn’t let on. She was wearing this dress the color of orchid’s- bright, natural pink, her decolletage and the sways on her skirts covered in iridescent white. She was beautiful- well, she always is, but she’d dressed herself up in a way that I’d not seen before. The cut of her bodice must restricted for private parties, such as the one I was invading at that very moment. I realized this as my gaze wandered, feeling rather suddenly like I’d done something terribly wrong.

“I didn’t know you were invited.” Her chest shook when she chuckled and I forced my gaze back upwards, although the eyes on my now flared hood stayed fixated. I forced it to closed and shoved the remote off on my egg bois, whispering at them to head back to the ship and wait for my command.

“I-I, well-” I was caught, backed into a corner. I couldn’t very well tell her what I was actually there for, but the thought of lying to the Lady made my tongue leaden. I’m a terrible liar, anyway- but the words tumbled out before I could stop myself. “I-I was a last minute addition! My, ah, efforts to become an overlord have finally been recognized, but they want me to prove my mettle.”

I was certain she knew I was full of it. I didn’t even know what they I was referring to here. This was not the type of event the Vee’s were invited to, but perhaps she’d think it was Missssss Carmine. The deep pits of her eyes bore through me for a moment, and I can see her mind turning the offered information over. The heavens granted me mercy that day, because she chose not to question it.

“Well, if that’s the case, would you care to promenade with me?” She’d offered it in such a matter of fact way, like it was something the Lady Hemlocke did often. Her arm lifted, reaching for mine but hesitating, sharp fingers half curled in the air between us.

“Pardon?” My face was burning, I was sure. All I managed to do was croak out a single word and blink dumbly at her.

“Walk the halls with me. Is that not the right word?” The clip of her accent marred her t’s, and I felt bad that I’d made her doubt herself for even a second.

“You used the right word, my Lady. I just-” More dumb, mindless blinking. My head was devoid of thoughts, caught in a cacophony of confusion. “With me?”

“Yes, with you.” She chuckled again. I felt my eyes drift downwards and willed them to stay on her face. I was a gentleman, damn it! I would not allow myself to be taken as anything less then proper- not when such a dignified woman was asking to take my arm.

I don’t know where the confidence came from. It felt like someone far more suave than I was piloting my body. I removed my hat, placing it over my heart as I bowed low. “I would be honored, Lady Hemlocke.” When I rose, I was swore I saw a tinge of color on her pale cheeks. The light flush spreading across her high cheekbones only became more obvious when I offered my arm, keeping my hand neatly tucked into my lapel once she’d taken it. I found myself easily falling into step- well, slither- at her side. There was a warmth that radiated off of her that I didn’t quite expect. She had such an icy disposition that I thought she’d be cold to the touch, but she was vibrant and alive, blooming like a flower beside me as she spoke. There was a scent that wafted off her, intense enough to make me dizzy- like a garden after the rain. Flowers and ozone, the smell of fresh turned dirt, and… something else that I still can’t place. It made me dizzy, but I couldn’t get enough. I found myself occasionally unconsciously leaning in to smell her, tongue darting out so I could commit every note to memory.

“Alright, Pen. That’s weird.”

“What? No it’s not! She didn’t seem to mind.”

“Maybe she just didn’t notice.”

“Oh.” Pen recoiled as if struck, hands pressed against his chest. His brow furrowed as the weight of Angel’s words settled in. If anyone knew anything about creepy, untoward behavior, it would be his porn star best friend. The thought that he made the Lady uncomfortable that night set the storm in his stomach brewing once more. He didn’t even notice when his friend’s expression softened, jolting slightly when he felt one of his many hands rest on his shoulders.

“Hey. Hey!” Having successfully gotten his attention, angel settled back down, hugging one long leg to his chest. “It’s alright, Pen. I didn’t mean anything by it.

“Really?” His expression was pitiful, watery eyes searching Angel’s face for any hint of derision.

“Really. The Lady Hemlocke doesn’t take kindly to creeps- if she had a problem with it, she would’ve said something.” He thought for a moment, pursing his lips as his gaze went distant. “Actually, she probably woulda killed ya. She probably liked it.”

“Angel!” Pen shouted, tossing the throw pillow beside him at the spider. “Take that back! The Lady Hemlocke wouldn’t enjoy something as indecent as being scented by a ssssssstranger!”

“Okay, okay- maybe she thought you weren’t right in the head.” A peel of laughter shook his slender frame as he launched the pillow right back at Pen. “Finish the fucking story!”

It felt like hours had passed as we spoke when it had scarcely been one. Conversation just flowed so… smoothly. Not at first, of course, for a good 15 minutes I spent my time stumbling over each sentence as I reeled from the realization that the Lady Hemlocke wanted to be seen on my arm. Even now, I get a bit flustered if I think of it too hard.

For the duration of that time, she mostly talked at me, filling me in on the goings-on in her district. Like we were old friends. Equals , almost. Eventually, she broached the subject of my airship, after which it was quite impossible to get me to shut up. I was certain I was boring her, rambling on about the finer mechanical details of my war machine that she was unlikely to understand and even less apt to care about. Not to imply the Lady isn’t intelligent, of course! I just doubt a botanist would care about hydrogen and metal floating through the air. But the whole time she just… smiled at me, nodding softly along to each new bit of information and asking questions when they were do.

“You’re quite the inventor, Sir Pentious. You’re the only sinner that has mastered the power of machine based flight down here.” She’d said when I finally gave her chance to speak. I began to chew my lower lip, suddenly feeling very subconscious. What if she were just placating me? “Perhaps I should have you over sometime to help automate my production lines. Such a menial task would no doubt be child's play to a genius of your caliber, but it would be a great help.”

“You’re too kind to me, my Lady.” I had turned to face her. We had managed to make it outside, and the color of Pride’s sky must have cast it’s glow on her cheeks for I swore they were tinted red. The color deepened when I took her hand and bestowed upon her knuckles a gentleman’s kiss. “It would be an honor to work under you, Lady Hemlocke.”

I heard the explosion before it was visible. There were several smaller bombs scattered about inside, serving both as warning for people to escape and to collapse the structure of the building. As much as I wanted to make a statement, the thought of Overlord blood on my hands and the feuds that would follow tied my stomach into knots. I straightened my spine, gazing down at the Lady before me as the inferno began to blaze behind her. The Egg Bois must’ve set off the detonator, but I couldn’t be assed to care. Not when the most gorgeous woman in hell was staring up at me with wide eyed wonder and windswept hair.

I reach down to tuck a stray lock of her dark dresses back into place. “You look ravishing in the hellfire, my Lady.” The words left my lips before I could stop them, and before she could react I heard shouting coming from beyond. The Carmines had caught up to me, angel steeled shoes making dangerous clanking sounds on the concrete as Carmilla herself rapidly gained speed. She was flanked by both of her daughters, and I was not inclined to stick around and find out what punishment they thought suitable for me. In a panic, I slithered away, gathering up and counting the heads of my tumbling eggs before we made it back to my airship. I barely managed to escape, but I was mostly in tact by the time we began to drift away. The only sign of my near capture was the thin graze of a bullet across the edge of my tail.

At that, the serpent lifted the tip of his tail, coiling it over itself so he could point to the foot long scar that was barely discernible all these years later. He seemed quite proud of himself. It was the closest he’d come to doing something actually impressive, at least in his mind. Although the longer Angel’s dumbfounded silence went on, the more Sir Pentious began to think that he had, in fact, done something to be proud of, and not just by his own biased judgment.

“What?” The snake asked, confidence rattled by the stare instead of bolstered.

“Holy shit, Pen,” It was borderline impossible for Angel to be rendered speechless, but the story had left him stumbling for words. “The Lady Hemlocke is into you.”

“What? No! She was just… being nice.” He knew that was a lazy excuse. And an unbelievable one.

“The Lady isn’t nice to men.” Angel insisted, his words mirroring the thought that had crossed Pen’s mind. The serpent was already attempting to swallow his feelings. Entertaining such flights of fancies was dangerous for the sensitive snakes heart. “But she was more than nice to you, Pentious. I think she likes you.”

Pentious had opened his mouth to respond, but before another word could be exchanged between either of them, the Princess came barrelling down the stairs. She was half dressed, bow-tie crooked and blazer being haphazardly pulled on. As usual, she was talking a mile a minute, mostly to herself, but also to Vaggie who trailed close behind and tried in vein to calm her panicked girlfriend.

“Where’s the fire, princess?” Angel asked, and Pentious was quite glad the focus was no longer on him.

“I have a meeting with the Lady Hemlocke and I’m already late!” She groaned the last word, as if late was the worst thing a person could possibly be. “It’s to see if she’ll support the hotel, but I made it months ago, and with the news from heaven and everything going on with Alastor I completely forgot about it.”

Angel grinned, his toothy smile turned back to Pen. The poor snake was too nervous to even glare back, but he swallowed audibly. He knew the look of mischief and he wasn’t keen to see where Angel was going with it.

“Mind if we come?”

Charlie stopped, staring at them as her frantic retying of her bow-tie slowed. She didn’t know much about the Lady Hemlocke, but she knew that her opinion of men was low. She eyed Angel and Pentious with an air of nervousness that was palpable even across the room. “I don’t-”

“C’mon, Charlie! It’ll be a good idea to show her a couple of success stories. We could help talk up what you’re doing here, maybe it’ll help convince her.”

The princess hummed softly, eyeing both of the men with the same wary suspicion. The idea sounded better and better each time she turned it over in her head, until she’d finally made up her mind. She nodded. “Alright, you can come. But we have to leave now.”

And she was out the door, followed by a suddenly wary Vaggie who paused at the door to point accusatorially at Angel in a gesture that said I’m watching you. After a moment of silent bickering, Pentious was dragged out by the Spider and they all shuffled into the back of the royal limo.

Chapter Text

“And that’s why your help with the hotel would be invaluable, Lady Henrietta!”

Henrietta was silent in the wake of the Princess’ exuberant speech. Her expression was unreadable, demeanor almost nonchalant as she brought the fine porcelain cup to her lips again. The room joined in her quiet, although the other inhabitants were not as calmly poised as the Lady herself. There was a nervous energy taking root in each of those who’d come to champion the virtues of the hotel, buzzing in the air like a hoard of flies. The sound of cup meeting platter broke the tension, if only for a moment.

“I’m sorry, your highness, but I can not offer you the support you seek.” She swallowed the ache that Charlie’s forlorn expression caused. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of misplaced maternal affection for the young woman who was trying so hard to do good. She watched the hellborn inhale, ready to beg, grovel, do and say whatever she needed to get the overlord on board. With how disastrous the reception to her pressured passion project had been, she needed all the help she could get. And Alastor was great! He really was, or so she tried to tell herself. But his reputation and manner of conduct was not quite what she was hoping for, although she’d struggle to give the man himself any such criticism.

Henrietta rose a hand, silencing her protests and the spiral of her thoughts in one simple gesture. “It’s not that I see no merit in what you are doing. Clearly you have found individuals that support your cause and seek redeem themselves. However, my conscious could not rest easy if I aligned myself with heaven. If they saw fit to damn me for the sin of defending myself, then what reason do I have to change their opinion on the matter?” She didn’t give Charlie any further time to argue, either, although it upset her idea of decorum to leave as the Princess sputtered for words. “Take your time finishing the spread. I would hate for it to go to waste.” Her voice was low and commanding, effortlessly quieting down the conversation once more. She took one last somber glance over her shoulder, single dark eye locking on Charlie. “I do wish you luck, your highness.”

She left that statement lingering in the air. Charlie’s arms fell defeated to the side as she watched Henrietta settle beyond the glass atrium at a table on the patio. The maids bustled about, bringing their Lady more of the refreshments that she’d abandoned. The princess could only watch the silent scene through the fronds of leaves and vines that criss-crossed over the glass. She felt tears welling in here eyes and sniffled, trying to swallow down the unsettlingly familiar lump in her throat. Her eyes turned when she felt Vaggie wrapping an arm around hers. She slid her hand down until theirs were both intertwined, her free hand coming up to rub Charlie’s back. “You tried your best,” Vaggie was never the greatest at comforting her overemotional girlfriend, and in this case it wasn’t easy to write off the opposing party as being completely irrational, as she usually would.

“When is that ever good enough?” Charlie’s throat was on fire, muscles straining to keep the threatening sob from bursting free. She aggressively rubbed at her eyes and growled in defeat. She hated how low her mind could go when things didn’t go her way, even more so when her inside thoughts accidentally slipped out. Before she could continue, she found herself once again pulled from her depressed reprieve, this time by an unfamiliar hand on her opposite shoulder.

“Uhm, Charlotte?” It was Pentious, looking deceivingly uneasy. His eyes- all of them- darted awkwardly around the room before the ones on his face finally fixated on hers. His other hand was curled against his chest, quickly joined by the one that had touched her shoulder with a gentleness that caught her off guard. She was too deep in the bit to respond verbally, or correct him on how much she hated that name. Not facing opposition, however, he continued. “Perhapssssss… I could try to speak to the Lady?”

Charlie’s brows furrowed. How would that help? The Lady Hemlocke was notorious for her distaste towards men. Charlie didn’t pick up on it during their meeting, not to it’s fullest extent, but Vaggie had seen how on edge the maids were when they saw the guests that had accompanied the couple. She was the one who spoke, stepping to her girlfriends side to better address the serpent. “I don’t see how that will help.”

Sir Pentious almost seemed like he was going to agree with her, shrinking back slightly and averting his gaze like he’d been struck across the cheek. Before he could hiss out an apology, Angel spoke up from his spot on the couch. He was the only one still helping himself to the food, dainty sandwich held aloft in a comically delicate grip. He used it to emphasize his words as he spoke. “I think you should let him. Pen and the Lady have history.” His eyes narrowed at the incredulous look Vaggie gave him. “*Good* history.”

“Well, I suppose it can’t make things worse.” Charlie mused. She took a deep breath and forced a cheery smile back onto her face, but there was a subtle hollowness behind her eyes. “Go for it, Pen! We’re rooting for you!”

Pentious was happy the princess conceded, but as his gaze drifted back to the intimidating form of Henrietta Hemlocke through the greenish tint of the observatory windows, he couldn’t help but feel that ever present nervousness spreading through him, turning the blood in his veins to ice and bringing the taste of bile to the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, right. Thank you, Charlie,” There was a nervous waver in every word, but he ignored the looks of concern. He’d talked to the women several times before, surely this time would be no different. Perhaps it would even go better! Less embarrassing! He could finally prove whether or not Angel was correct in assuming the Lady harbored some positive sentiment towards the serpent, although he wasn’t getting his hopes up about that.

He slithered closer, ignoring the scrutinizing gaze of the maids as he exited through the observatory doors. She was striking up close, especially now that he didn’t have anything else to focus on. The bouquet of aromas wafting from the garden made him dizzy for a moment, or perhaps he was just swooning. In any case, he took his hat in his hands and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Lady Hemlocke. My name is Sir Pentious and-”

“I know who you are.” She said, eyes searching his features with recognition glinting in her own. She felt her heart gnawing at her ribcage in worry. Time blends together when you’ve been in hell as long as she had, but it hadn’t even been a month since he last crashed through the roof of her carriage. Had she really left the impression that she wouldn’t remember his name? Her eyes darkened, lips drawing into a gentle frown that set Pentious’ nerves aflame.

’Oh no, I’ve disssspleased her already.’

He cleared his throat again and bowed low. “I’m sorry, my Lady. I-” a sudden yelp cut off his attempt at an explanation. He’d bent too far forward, throwing off his center of gravity just enough that he couldn’t stop from toppling. He managed to avoid taking the table and all it’s contents with him, but upon trying to catch himself on the chair, managed to send that clattering to the stone floor as well. The metal chair thudded painfully against his side and he groaned, scrambling to catch his bearings before anyone could get up to help him.

“Are you alright?” Her eyes were wide, worry etched into the fine lines of her brow.

“Yes, yes- quite! Worry not, my Lady. It will take more than a chair to best the Great Sir Pentious!” He cringed internally at his over-exuberant attempt to laugh off the dull pain. It was going to leave a most embarrassing bruise, but the unpleasant throbbing sensation was easy to ignore when he heard her chuckle.

She’d demurely covered her lips with a hand, hiding that beautiful smile from sight. But he could see the corners of her lips, turned up and brightening her dark eyes. And the sound was unmistakable- sonorous and throaty, almost a purr more than a laugh. He stared in awe, halfway to sinking into the same seat that had fallen, eyes wide and hood flared.

“Oh, yes, silly me. I forgot how resilient you are.” Her compliment made his fluster worse. His cheeks darken, gaze averting itself as he sinks fully into the seat. She let the silence settle betwixt them, staring at him with expectant eyes. Soon, her thoughts began to wander. He was so much more handsome up close. His striking, serpentine features stood out prominently amongst the boring rabel of hell. His wide eyes would glance at her, but he’d immediately tear them away with a small, whimperish sound. He fiddled with his hat on his lip, tail coiled tight around his chair. She watched his hands move, lids lowering as she thought about how dexterous they must be. He was an inventor, after all.

She cleared her throat suddenly. Her mind had drifted farther into impropriety than she’d like to allow. She focused on his face again, ignoring the thudding of her heart as it pumped color onto her cheeks. “Did you need something from me?

“Oh! Yesss, I-” He paused, eye’s widening, panicked as he realized he couldn’t recall the reason for his approach. It was important, he could recall that much, but her visage and his embarrassing fumble had wiped the task from his mind. “I-I… don’t remember. I’m sorry for wassssting your time, my Lady. I’ll leave you be.”

“No. Sit.” She said simply, halting his attempts to rise. He heeded her command, slamming back into the seat with a whine. “Could you possibly have just wished to spend more time in my company?” A small smile crossed her lips, and he was tempted to lose himself in those dark eyes.

“Alwayssss, my Lady,” His voice was low, reverent. He hadn’t noticed, but he was leaning unconsciously forward, draw in to her orbit like a moth to flame.

“If that’s the case, why don’t we discuss matters more privately. Perhaps over dinner?” Her eyes glanced to the party he’d arrived with. The spider was staring through the glass, mouth hanging open with a dumbfounded expression in his eyes. The other two looked almost as shocked, previous disappointment eclipsed entirely by the sudden shock of Sir Pentious’ perceived success in swooning the Lady Hemlocke. She frowned, unpleasantly reminded of the nosiness of others. “I’d like to get to know you more without the eavesdropping of interlopers.”

“Really?” His eyes widened, and his hood flared out again when she nodded. The tip of his tail thudded unconsciously against the ground, heavy and audible on the stone. “Yes! I’d be honored, my Lady!”

Henrietta snapped her fingers, calling forth one of the attending maids. She presented a calling card to her mistress, who in turn presented it to Sir Pentious. It was an old fashioned way of courting, but something about it made Pen’s nostalgic heart sing. He stared at it in awe, like he’d been handed a priceless artifact. Turning it carefully over in his claws, he committed every detail to memory, half worried it would be wrenched out of his hands. When that didn’t happen, he tucked it into his pocket, scrambling to right himself once he realized the Lady was standing.

“I must attend to my garden, now. This meeting has already cut in to the precious hours of daylight we get down here.” She turned her gaze skyward for a moment, gauging how much work she’d be able to get done before he got to dark to comfortably see. She turned her attention back to him, the same unconscious smile he hadn’t yet realized was reserved solely for him returning to her features. “It was nice seeing you again, Sir Pentious. Although our conversation was quite brief. Please, don’t be a stranger.” With that, she was gone. He watched her form glide away from him and down the steps of the porch into the expansive garden beyond. She was a vision to behold, each step down with a grace that made her seem like she was floating. He felt his breath catch in his throat and was unable to muster a response, turning abruptly back into the parlor.

He was surrounded immediately, Angel and Charlie asking overlapping questions that he couldn’t begin to decipher in his enthusiastic glee. His heart was thudding harder then he thought it ever had, threatening to beat free from his chest with each lingering thought of the Lady and the card he’d tucked against his breast. “I… think I just got a date with the Lady Hemlocke.”

It wasn’t exactly a response to their questions, but it had gotten them to stop. Angel cocked a brow. “Really?”

“Yessss! She gave me her calling card so that I could schedule a private dinner with her.” He sounded stunned, shell shocked by the revelation that Angel Dust was right.

“Told you,” The spider said with a snorted laugh. He couldn’t delve further into gloating than that, however, before the Princess stepped in.

“That’s great, Pen! I’m really happy for you!” She seemed genuine, but as the exclamation lingered her eyes grew a little wider than usual, betraying her worry. “What did she say about the hotel?”

Sir Pentious’ heart dropped suddenly into his stomach. “Oh no! I knew I wassss forgetting sssomething!” He roughly shoved his hat back onto his head and pulled the brim down low enough to cover his eyes. His stomach churned disconcertingly with the intensity of the shame he felt. “I’m so ssssorry, Charlie.”

“It’s alright, Pentious.” Charlie couldn’t stay mad at him. The sting of disappointment pricked at her heart, but she’d seen the Lady Hemlocke. How could she begrudge one of her friends for claiming the chance of true romance with a woman that pretty. “Just… try to bring it up when you have that dinner, alright?”

“As you wish, Princess!” Pentious beamed, giddiness taking hold of his emotions once more as the reality of the situation settled in. He’d gotten a date with the Lady Hemlocke. Nothing could get him down now.

Henrietta turned into the hedge maze at the center of her garden and nearly collapsed to her knees. She held a hand to her fluttering chest, bosom heaving with each deep breath. How she managed to keep it together in front of Sir Pentious, she hadn't a clue. Something about him set butterflies aflight inside of her, no part of her nervous system left untouched by his timid grace and worried eyes. Her skin was on fire, the shortest of interactions leaving her craving a touch that she'd never known. He hadn't verbally responded- and she had absconded before she gave him the chance- but the look in his eyes was akin to a puppy being rewarded for good behavior. She knew Sir Pentious had no way of knowing how thoroughly he'd captured her attention, but she would be thinking of him longingly all through the night, mussing the sheets of her bed with her pinning.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Pentious had last spoken to the Lady Hemlocke. He kept the calling card close to him, it’s presence in his pocket feeling heavier each day. He should call her. She wanted him to call her, didn’t she? She’d made it abundantly clear, and Angel had furthered the idea. The spider was truly getting tired of hearing his friend spiral into the pit of crippling self doubt that seemed to be his home, so Sir Pentious had simply stopped talking about the matter. His Egg Bois were the only one’s privy to his nightly talking to himself sessions- how he’d start off with a pep talk in the mirror, only to end the evening curled in on himself in the bed, clinging to a suspiciously badger shaped stuffie, staring at the little scrap of lavender scented paper like it was going to rear back and bite him. Surely, she didn’t mean it. And even if her words had been true, it would only be a matter of time before he did something to displease her. He couldn’t handle the thought of upsetting the woman. He should just let it go. She’ll forget about him, as everyone else had. He would comfort himself with the memory of her smile.

Henrietta was tired of waiting.

She was pacing in an attempt to calm the frantic battering against her ribcage. She thought she had made her intentions quite obvious, why had it taken so long for him to reach out? Was it her reputation? She was not known for being kind of men. Her district was more cloistered then a nunnery, with men disallowed from several public locations. The Hemlocke manor itself was open to a select few outside the district, man or woman, but it could be counted on one hand the amount of the former allowed into her inner sanctum. Even those she trusted in her own quarters of the house were instructed to stay far away from the wings harboring her staff and girls. She cursed herself- perhaps there was a way she could’ve been more direct, at least when it came to acknowledging how welcome he was in her home. She hoped, in her dizziest daydreams, that he would find refuge here. That he’d rest his head against her ample bosom and never wish to leave her embrace again.

She was still pacing when the Eldest entered. The falcon woman stood stern and taciturn near the doorway, watching the lady move with worried eyes. She’d scarcely seen her employer in such a state, and it worried here. The Eldest cared far more about Henrietta then either party felt she should, but she buried that care in steadfast duty. She owed Henrietta far more than she could ever pay back, and her feelings regarding the woman would only complicate that debt further. She knew better than to think that her feelings would ever be returned.

“You called for me, my lady?” The falcon spoke after pointedly clearing her throat. Henrietta halted in her step, turning abruptly to face the new occupant of the room.

“Yes,” Despite her trust in the girl that operated as her right hand, worry etched itself into her features. The matter at hand was delicate, and she didn’t know if the Eldest was the right one for the job, but she was the best she had at the moment. She sighed, sinking into one of the plush armchairs nearby. “I… have a job for you. I expect you to handle it with the upmost seriousness.”

“Anything, my lady.” There was a flat affect to her prim and proper voice, but Henrietta knew of the devotion that lay within the other woman. She hoped her request wouldn’t sully the trust they shared.

“You are aware of the serpent sinner, Sir Pentious?”

The Eldest’s gaze hardened, but she nodded. “I am.” The words slipped through grit teeth.

“I need you to acquire him for me. Bring him to the manor by sundown. Alive.” Henrietta’s own gaze hardened, matching her second with steely intensity. “Use any means necessary, but try not to cause any lingering harm.”

“And what is the reason for his summons?” The Eldest knew the answer, but she needed to hear it said. Not that anything Henrietta had to offer would settle the pit of dread gnawing at her stomach.

“Dinner.”

It is said the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Were that true, one would think the roads in hell would offer a smoother ride. The wide wheels of the horseless carriage did their best to cover the jostle caused by the potholes pockmarking the streets, but Chatelaine was ill despite their best efforts.

The Eldest they called her, despite her age not being the highest of the harpy trio. Valencia was older by over 100 years, and quite older still when she’d died, but her pint-sized stature and general disposition let her coast by as the middle child in comparison. Chatelaine was the responsible one- stern and severe in all manners. She would not let herself falter despite the fractures in her heart. She could feel it’s jagged edges digging into her lungs, each breath diving the wedges deeper. Her eyes were wet, but she would not cry. Not when she had to face down the man who’d stolen the heart of her mistress.

She spotted him on the edge of her vision, yellow and black scales slithering down the sidewalk. He carried in his arms a brown paper bag- take out or groceries, it would seem. Not that it mattered. He was dining with the Lady tonight, whether he liked it or not. Was he aware what an honor was about to be bestowed upon him? Chatelaine mulled the question over as the carriage pulled to a stop behind him. ‘No,’ She decided. ‘No he did not. No man could.’

The Blooms moved first, surrounding the serpent before the carriage had even fully stopped. Their white clad forms seemed ghostly as they fell deftly into position, boxing Sir Pentious in against the stalled vehicle. He swallowed hard, recognizing the uniforms of the Hemlocke gunners. Instinctively, his hands fled skyward, open palmed in the universal sign of surrender. His Chinese takeout splattered to the ground, tumbling out of the bag. The weapons they held aloft glinted dangerously in hell’s reddish light, and he felt his heart begin to race. Had he done something to displease the Lady Hemlocke? He’d done his best to stay off of her bad side, but perhaps he’d taken too long to answer the invitation she’d given him. He thought he was saving her the trouble of disappointment, but it was the only way he could have slighted her. He tried to open his mouth and speak, but the only sound he managed to utter was a small cry of distress. His body twisted almost uncomfortably quickly at the sound of the carriage door opening. There stood Chatelaine, the lady’s right hand, looking disdainfully down at him from the top of the steps.

“Sir Pentious,” Her voice was professional, but tight. Like every word offered a new threat of getting caught in her throat. She wet her lips and continued. “The Lady Hemlocke has requested your presence for dinner this evening. If you do not come willingly, we are prepared to use force.”

“The Lady Hemlocke… wantssss dinner… with me?” The serpent was skeptical, despite having no reason to be. He still found himself unable to fathom the fact that the woman in question found him worthy of desire.

“Yes.” The falcon’s eyes narrowed. She was half tempted to order his sedation, but her expression was met with a stilted whimper. She stepped back into the carriage with a roll of her eyes, sitting heavily in one of the plush seats. Pentious lurched after her, away from the pointed guns, and tumbled into the seat across from her.

He coiled around himself, hulking form made as small as he physically could. Henrietta was terrifying, but there was a level of affection in her eyes whenever they met. The soft expression he’d caught glimpses of was the only reason he wasn’t certain he was hurtling towards certain death. The expression on the Eldest’s face could kill a weaker sinner. It held none of that warmth, not a glimmer of kindness. In fact, Pentious was quite sure that this woman hated him, although he couldn’t imagine why. They’d not interacted during his depressingly long stint in hell. What could he have done to deserve such malice?

“Sssssso-”

“I’d prefer we not speak.”

His mouth had never shut so quickly. He somehow managed to curl up tighter on himself, tail sliding over the seat and wrapping around himself like a hug. He turned away from her, watching the city slide past. His thoughts threatened to eat him alive at every turn. What if Angel was wrong and there was some secret resentment the Lady harbored towards him? What if he’d missed his chance to impress her? What if she was planning on keeping him as some sort of pet?

He didn’t think he’d mind the last one.

He shook his head, hood momentarily flaring as that last thought overwhelmed him. He swallowed his fluster and ignored the intensified glower his sudden movement earned from the woman sent to guard him. He eyed her warily before turning to face the window once more. They were getting closer now. He could see Cannibal Town’s cheery facade, archaically dressed townsfolk meandering down the streets or bustling from shop to shop. He could almost appreciate the familiar aesthetics, until he remembered what sins the citizens hid behind coal black eyes and sharpened teeth. He quickly averted his gaze, turning away from the window and staring down at his interlocked fingers. He had been wringing his hands- a nervous tic that had followed him from his human life time- but now they sat still, almost eerily so, his entire body tense with anxiety and apprehension.

The distance between districts was mercifully short, and Pentious found courage to look outside once more. It was the first time he’d actually been in the Hemlocke district after all, instead of spying on it’s going-ons from above. Cannibal Town was nestled up so close to Hemlocke territory it was almost hard to tell where one ended and the other begun. There was a strip of shops at the boarder, and beyond that some workers homes. The part that first differentiated them were the processing plants. These oppressive monuments to toil stood out quite abruptly once one passed the shops. Large buildings as gray and cold as a headstone, with billowing smokestacks that blew the caustic fumes of poison and gunpowder into the sky and away from the denizens below. It wasn’t hard to imagine how miserable working in one of these buildings must be, and that was why the lowest rungs of the workforce were entirely male. Most of them deserved it- wishing to pull one over on the Lady or her girls. The men with the worst jobs were often scum- not enough to face the bloodstained claws and polished rifles of the Blooms and their Mistress, but with sins weighty enough that the women at the epicenter of the district spared them no pity.

The factories were large, but few, giving way to more rows of homes and smaller shops. These homes were visibly smaller and shoddier than the one’s you’d see deeper in the district, cramped together like crooked teeth. Pentious correctly assumed this is where the factory workers must live, feeling more validated in that assumption when they reached an ironwork overgrown gate. There was a woman manning a guard booth, who spoke with one of the Blooms atop the carriage before letting them in. The houses beyond were still small, but not as clustered- with well kept yards and community gardens spaced at seemingly random intervals. There was a certain type of beauty to be found in the Hemlocke district- nowhere else in the pentagram could boast such lush greenery. There was real patches of grass to lay upon. Pentious spied two young girls chasing each other in one such park, one tackling the other into jubilant laughter. Both were quickly called in by their mother as hell’s pseudo sun began to fade and dim, opening up the door for dusk to slip gloomily into. It seemed so peaceful here. Women strolled the streets freely in various styles and states of dress, linking arms and laughing as they headed home or to the homes of friends. Lit windows harbored shadowy figures sharing meals and conversation silhouetted within their comfortable confines. There were men here, too, much to Pentious bewilderment. He remembered whispers of boys raised among the hot house Hemlockes, but given the general reputation of the women within he’d dismissed them as baseless rumors. The number of men were fewer, but the careful grace they held themselves with matched the women flitting around. Everything here just slotted together so perfectly. It was enviable.

The serpent couldn’t help but feel a gnawing emptiness begin to claw it’s way through his chest. Everyone here seemed so comfortable. There was a palpable sense of safety and belonging that he’d never felt, even in the relatively well protected walls of the hotel. Pentious always felt as if there was an invisible wall between himself and others, unable to reach out and connect in the same way everyone else seemed to with ease. Were he a woman, perhaps he would’ve found that security here, just like the one’s he watched now as he passed through the district and towards the grand estate looming beyond. But perhaps not- perhaps even if his sex had swapped, he’d be just as hopelessly unlikable and awkward as he was now.

Chatelaine could see him begin to retreat on himself, and for a second she could almost imagine pitying him. But the moment passed, and so did the mood. They had arrived, and once she crossed the threshold her responsibility for the pathetic creature was relinquished to the Lady herself. She grimaced, bile rising in her throat when she thought about it. She stood the second the carriage stopped, exiting promptly and standing to the side at the bottom of the steps. “Out.” She commanded, and he complied. His silence was beginning to grate on her, but at least he brokered no argument. She began to ascend the wide marble steps of the grandiose abode, barking out a firm “Follow” and expecting Pentious to listen.

Sir Pentious’ eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. The Hemocke house could scarcely be called a manor- it was practically a palace. There was a lawn behind him he barely had a chance to notice, too smitten by the marble columns holding up the awning and the decorative gilded birds that decorated the upper facade walls. He stumbled when he noticed the Eldest had reached the top step and was now glaring up at him, nearly falling onto the stairs in his effort to slither up them.

Henrietta had been pacing the foyer for hours, only stopping when she heard the carriage pull up. “Oh dear, already?” She muttered under her breath, rushing over to the mirror hanging over the console table and scrutinizing her appearance. She never had much reason to care about the way she looked before. She didn’t want men to find her attractive, but her guest tonight was no simple man. She’d harbored feelings for him for the better half of a century, to the point that her closest friends and confidants had grown sick of hearing his name fall from her lips. He’d ignored her previous invitations of courtship, but he could not blame him for being intimidated. She only hoped her current method wasn’t too forceful.

She was carefully plucking at the ringlets framing her face, making sure not a hair was out of place when Pentious entered. His eyes were drawn to her immediately, her visage standing out in the buttercup yellow foyer even when surrounded by her attending maids. He was glad that the Eldest spoke, finding his tongue leaden and his mind devoid of all rational thought.

“I’ve acquired your dinner guest, my Lady.” Chatelaine ignored the twist in her gut at Henrietta’s excited expression. The Lady’s head snapped to attention, eyes wide and glimmering in the lamplight, a light dusting of pink crossing her cheeks. She’d barely looked at her Harpy, eyes flitting right past him and granting Pentious sole ownership of that adoring expression. Chatelaine felt her chest go tight and she turned her gaze downwards. “May I be dismissed?”

“Yes, dear. Thank you so much, you did well.” Henrietta was approaching, but Chatelaine didn’t look up. She brushed passed her mistress and disappeared into the manor, echoing footsteps fading into nothing. Henrietta paid it no mind- couldn’t, with Pentious standing right before her. Finally, he was hers. No more timid glances or running away. She couldn’t imagine anything coming between them now.

She approached the serpent, and he found himself struck dumb by her presence. This wasn’t new- something about the Lady was so effortlessly graceful. She had an air about her that made her seem untouchable, and Sir Pentious didn’t know how to push past that barrier. Every eye on his body was locked on to her, tail shiftings it's position on the floor so that he could see her from every angle possible. It had been a long time since he had to remember the decorum and etiquette of the 1800s, but as she settled to a stop in front of him it all came rushing back. He let out a panicked series of sounds as he ripped his hat off his head, fumbling with the accessory and drawing it's ire as he tried to catch it. The Lady laughed, and he found himself woefully embarrassed, struggling to swallow the shame and fear that he was somehow, someway doing everything wrong. Finally taking hold of his hat, he turned it over nervously in his hands, hissing softly as the silence stretched awkwardly between them.

"I'm so glad you agreed to come toni-" She was the first to speak, but his flustered proclamation burst forth before she could fully finish her sentence.

"I'mssssoveryhappytobehere, my Lady!" he cringed, shrinking on himself as if expecting to be struck. He'd not released she hadn't finished speaking before his words came tumbling out. "Ah, er, ssssorry, Lady Hemlocke." He abruptly bowed, eyes screwed shut, hoping his rudeness wasn't enough to completely ruin any goodwill she had towards him.

Henrietta stared at his bowed, trembling form for a moment. His nervousness radiated off of him, but she supposed she should expect that. He had very big emotions, and his reputation proceeded him- he wasn't exactly known for being subtle. She took a deep breath that he mistook for agitation, but before he could peel back and run away, her hands slid under his jaw, turning his head upwards to face her. "It's alright." She spoke, her voice cool and soothing, rushing over his burning shame like freshwater over a forest fire. She guided him back upwards, but he only went so far, staying hunched over slightly so that they were at eye level. His eyes were stuck on hers, struck by the depth and warmth hidden within those dark hues. "It's charming how excited you are."

"Charming?" The word was nearly unfamiliar to him. At the very least, it's never been used to describe him. He blinked dumbly at her, brow furrowing as he struggled to accept such a compliment. Surely, it must be obvious she found him appealing- she'd invited him to dinner, after all. But the serpent still couldn't fathom why that seemed to be the case. He shook his head, shirking the dumbfounded stupor that he seemed to have found himself in. He cleared his throat and, with a sudden surge of false confidence, took her hand in his own. "I am not ssssure if I can agree with such a ssssentiment, but I am quite glad you feel that way, my Lady." he bowed again, much more concisely, and brought her knuckles to his lips. Her palm was warm against his cold, near clammy skin, and the comfort it brought but a hiss out of him. His tongue flickered against her knuckles before he could stop himself, and he straightened up abruptly, looking down at her flushed face with a sheepish expression.

"Exceedingly charming." She insisted in a low voice, barely speaking above a whisper. She cleared her throat and willed the redness away from her cheeks. "Shall we away to dinner? I had a table prepared for us in the conservatory. It's my favorite part of the house."

An evening spent dining together with the sun setting over her garden sounded terribly romantic. The thought of how she would look with the red light of hell's pseudo-sun drifting over her pale skin had him flushing, tail thudding rhythmically against the floor as it wagged. He nodded, beaming at her and offering an arm. "Yessss, letsss!"

Sir Pentious was perceptive- he'd remembered the short trek from foyer to the specific parlor the conservatory was attached to. It was where he and the rest of the residents of the hotel had taken tea with the Lady only a few weeks prior. Despite his accurate recollection of this part of the manor, he allowed Henrietta to lead him. He didn't wish to be presumptuous, or come across as creepy. The very thought as being read as such caused a knot to form in his stomach that he tried his best to ignore. It felt like there was a timer ticking down until she realized he was exactly what people said he was- a pathetic, creepy, lonely loser. He didn't want to do anything to make that count down faster.

The maids were waiting at the familiar double doors, opening them as the couple approached. Henrietta lead him across the parlor into the glass walled area on the far side. She paused once they were feet away from the table. It was a metal garden table with two ornate ironwork chairs set across from each other. A tablecloth had been laid out to make the setting fancier still, and a candelabra sat in the center of the table. More candles were tucked into the plant life. The flickering flames were the only things illuminating the room casting a cozy, intimate glow over the whole area. Pentious was sure he had never seen anything so fancy, and if he had it was only in passing. The serpent was rarely ever part of the scene, merely a passerby or interloper observing it from the sidelines. It felt unreal to be taking up space in the Lady Hemlocke's parlor, here as a guest and not an inconvenience.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the subtle clearing of a throat. He blinked dumbly, fixing Henrietta with a wide eyed look of confusion. All of his eyes honed in on her, taking in her posture and the nearly expectant look on her face. She smiled up at him and inclined her head towards the tables- or rather, the chairs. 'What an idiot! How could I forget the mossst basic of decorum in the presence of such a fine lady!' "Oh, yes, forgive me, my Lady," He stumbled forward, nearly losing traction of the smooth terracotta tiles as he bumbled forward and grabbed her chair. It scraped noisily across the floor as he pulled it out, smiling sheepishly at the lady for a moment before he could muster up some semblance of his usual false confidence. He cleared his throat and positioned it a lot more quietly, bowing his head. "After you, my Lady!"

Henrietta moved with grace, seeming to glide across the floor in a rustle of skirts. She sunk into the offered seat and allowed him to push it in. Somehow, despite the extra weight, he managed to make much less of a ruckus, silently slotting her into place before taking his seat across from her.

"I hope you enjoy the meal I had prepared tonight," She said simply, hands folded politely in her lap. Beneath the table her thumb rubbed reparative lines over the back of her other hand, silently betraying her nervousness. Her face was pleasant though, smiling at him with those perfect lips- an expression he suddenly realized he'd only noticed on the Lady when the two of them were alone. In every picture or video recording he ever saw of her she looked dour and miserable, but throughout the course of their haphazard meetings in hell she'd always smiled at him with the same reserved softness. How strange of him not to have noticed before.

"I'm sure it'll be perfect," He insisted, leaning forward onto his hands. His elbows were on the table, head cradled in his hands, looking at her with a downright dreamy expression.

"It's a simple meal. Three courses- soup, entree, and dessert. I wasn't sure what your preferences were so I had the kitchen prepare something rather plain." It didn't matter what she said, or what was placed in front of him. Sir Pentious was quite sure he'd eat anything provided with relish, as long as he got to keep looking at her. Just sitting at the table across from her was a privilege, but the serpent thought that he should probably say something. 'Anything! Jussst talk to the woman instead of ssstaring at her like an ignoramusss!'

After the silence had stretched to the point of awkwardness, Sir Pentious finally found it within him to speak. They had both inhaled at the same time, and he immediately balked, shrinking in on himself with a muttered "Sorry,"

"No, no, you first." Truthfully, Henrietta hadn't much pertinent to say. She was never exactly good at the art of conversation. Her social group was small and consisted of people who didn't mind her stilted awkwardness, and she hoped that Pentious, as her partner, wouldn't mind as well. She sipped her wine as the maids brought out a thick, brothy soup. Her every present soft smile widened when she caught him quietly thanking the maids, but her brow furrowed as he recoiled in on himself when he didn't respond.

His arms were against his chest, so the hand she draped across the table couldn't easily reach him. She turned her palm upward in invitation. "Please, don't mind them. It is not unusual for my house staff to remain silent. It gives the illusion of complete control to outsiders." Pentious blinked dumbly. Illusion? The term implied that Henrietta did not have complete control over her district. But that thought seemed ridiculous. And if it was true, why would she give that information to him so willingly? Was she not worried about it being used against her, or did she just not consider him a worthy threat?

Usually he'd be offended at the perceived slight. He wanted to be a threat, to strike fear and admiration in equal measure to the denizens of hell. Yet, somehow, the thought of Henrietta not seeing him as such warmed his heart. Although it wasn't publicly known why, she was certain she had her reason's to hate men. She'd not been down here much longer than him, and knowing what the time period he was raised in was like, there was a plethora of trauma's that could've been inflicted on her. Each outcome was bleaker than the other, and he forced those thoughts from his mind, focusing instead on the warm, fuzzy feeling that spread through his chest when he realized that, despite his manhood, she considered him safe.

"You were saying?" Her voice cut through his thoughts, eyes expectant as they locked with his. He sputtered and coughed. He had been about to say something, hadn't he? His eyes left hers, frantically darting around to find something in the room that would jog his memory.

"Ah! Yes, er-" Glancing aside and staring at the garden beyond was exactly what he needed. He cleared his throat and straightened up in his chair and tried for a confident smile. "Your garden is gloriousss, my Lady. I've never seen such lush greenery in all my years of hell."

Her face brightened, eyes glistening with pride. He could feel his tail begin to wag again. Her excited expression felt like an award for doing something correct, and he wished to feel that elation forever.

"Thank you," She said, chuckling at the harsher thump of his tail beneath the table. She looked out at the garden beyond, resting the bowl of her spoon in her soup. "It's my after life's work. I've been much time into cultivating my garden. It's fed of my blood, sweat, tears, and the magic appointed to me by the hells and it's royalty."

"Hell's royalty?" That piqued his interest. It wasn't often that powerful hellborns bothered to interact with those they considered 'lesser', and sinner's were the lowest rung on that ladder. He reached for his bowl, almost managing to pick it up before remembering that there was silverware. He'd long since forgotten the etiquette taught to him as a young boy, but he should at least pretend not to be an uncivilized monster. He gripped the spoon carefully and brought a reasonable mouthful to his lips. As simple a dish as it was, it tasted delicious. He was so used to surviving on takeout and whatever simple meals he wasn't too burnt out to prepare for himself that he forgot how good food could taste.

"Ah, yes," The comment had been unconscious, but when he pressed for more she realized how strange that must sound. She regarded him once more, speaking between delicate spoonfuls as well. "The Goetic Prince Stolas has offered me some of his power in order to cultivate vegetation that would otherwise be impossible to grow down here. He also helps me maintain the greenhouses, where the climates need to be kept at specific temperatures for the plants to thrive."

"How'd you manage to garner the favor of a prince?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and he recoiled from himself once more, convinced that such an outburst would spell the end of his date- and likely his life. What right have he to question the lady? She'd brought him into her home- a place very few men had the privilege to see the interior of- and was feeding him a wonderful meal. She was far kinder to him then he deserved, he should keep his mouth ssshut.

But she just chuckled, sighing wistfully at a memory that she kept very close to her heart. "We met when he was very young. Just a little sprig of a thing. He'd slipped his minders, and somehow found his way into my garden. After his father came to collect him, I was granted a boon in exchange for not harming the child or trying to use him for ransom. Instead of demanding a genuine favor, I requested I be his caretaker until he was old enough to undertake his proper prince training." Her eyes had gone distant, directed at Pentious but not focused on him. She watched Stolas' childhood play out in seconds, each moment captured forever only in her mind. Another sigh heaved her chest, and there she was again, rosy cheeked and smiling at him.

Pentious eyes had gone misty. He was so moved by her story, as short as it was, that his hat was visibly crying. He was tenderhearted to a fault, and stories about families always cut him to his core. He swallowed down his emotions with the remnants of his soup, wiping his mouth with one of the fine cloth napkins. "You must've been quite the mother, to have him remain as devoted to you."

"I choose to think I was." She reached across the table once more, taking his hand. His posture went stiff again, unsure how to handle the physical contact. Eventually he turned his palm over so that both of theirs were pressed together. "He comes to visit at least once a month for tea, and he's not the only child I've raised that visits." She looked so at ease when she spoke of her children. Pentious recalled stories of the Lady Hemlocke's bleeding heart- of the children brought into her home, or the work she did to establish Pentagram City's only orphanage. He found his expression softening again, sinking into his seat with his tongue unconsciously peaking from between his fangs. It flickered slightly in response to the food being rolled in, but he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"You are a remarkable woman, Lady Hemlocke."

"I'm aware," Henrietta wasn't humble, and something about how confidently she agreed with his sentiment made his head spin. There wasn't any derision in the comment, just steadfast acknowledgement. Her followup blindsided him, however. "But I'm not the only remarkable one in this room."

There hands had to part so that the maids could switch out the meals. He let his fall into his lap, posture limp as his mind struggled to comprehend what he just said. "You think I'm remarkable?" His voice was soft, guarded, like he was waiting for the punchline to a mean spirited joke. It wouldn't be the first time someone he admired stroked his ego just to pull the rug out from beneath him.

"Of course I do!" She said this as if the notion of thinking otherwise was ridiculous, punctuating with a gentle chuckle as she separated the wing of the small creature on her plate from it's body. It resembled some sort of game hen, but it's flesh was a strange, purplish color. Chickens weren't exactly a thing that existed in hell. Like pigs, there were similar creatures, but many aspects of them were different then what one expected on earth. It was jarring for the newly-dead, but you got used to it relatively quickly. "No other mind in the pentagram has been able to craft a flying machine, let alone one as magnificent as yours."

She was talking of his war machine, of course- the ostentatious dirigible that floated through the skies day after day. He liked it up there- it was very hard for anyone below to fuck with him unless he drifted low enough. Up until it found it's permanent dock at the Hazbin Hotel, he spent most of his afterlife drifting around, watching people live life's he was barely apart of . Sure, it was an impressive piece of technology- he knew that, but it was so rare he received recognition of that that he didn't know how to handle that. He just stared, open mouthed, the food in front of him all but forgotten. "You-" His voice trembled, and he swallowed down the forming knot in his throat. "You flatter me, my Lady."

"No." She said simply, pausing to take a bite of her meal. Her fangs tore in to the hunk of flesh. They were small enough to fit perfectly in her mouth. Sir Pentious didn't think he noticed them before, and if he did they were not something he remembered, but right now they were hard to ignore. He shivered and forced his gaze away from her mouth, eyes locking with hers again. "I do not flatter, Sir Pentious. It is just not something I ever feel inclined to do. Especially not when such flattery only serves to coddle the ego of a man."

He did not miss the malice that dripped from that word, spoken harshly enough that he shrunk in on himself. He hissed a quiet apology, not quite looking at her. He cleared his throat and tried to wash down the lingering shame he felt with a few healthy swallows of wine. "I'm sorry, my lady, I just- I am not accustomed to receiving genuine compliments."

"Truly?" She said, eyes widening. She looked even more shocked at the awkward nod she was given in response. She shook her head and scoffed, tearing into her meat with a renewed vigor- as if it was a stand in for everyone who'd ever made the wonderful man across from her feel so small. "That should not surprise me. Most people down hear have values that are entirely skewed. They can not see genius when it is floating over them. How many other forms of air travel have been invited down here? To alter a hydrogen based mode of travel without catastrophic accidents is truly a laudable achievement."

"It really was just a matter of discovering what, exactly, hell's atmosphere is made out of. After that, I applied the same principals that were used to create the original zeppelins to my own ships. I wouldn't say it was without accident, per say, but I have gotten the science behind it down to an art." He allowed himself to look smug, spine straightening and smile curling across his serpentine features in a way Henrietta found quite dashing. His tongue flickered out adorably. Even his hat beamed with pride, it's grin mimicking the one his wearer displayed.

"I would love a live demonstration sometime." Her voice took on a peculiar intonation- one that Pentious couldn't quite place. The German accent that hid beneath her words was more prominent now, and her voice almost seemed huskier. He swallowed, his confidence faltering, but he quickly found his nerve again. "I've never flown before, in any capacity. I think it would be quite… exhilarating, for us to be alone that far above everyone else. Don't you agree?"

'Get your mind out of the gutter, Pentious! Surely she can't be implying what it soundss like she is implying, you cad!' Their eyes locked, and he'd be dumb to deny the obvious tension building between them. There food was all but forgotten, laying in different states of doneness on the plates between them. He leaned forward unconsciously, lost in the look in her dark eyes and how soft her lips looked- glossy and slightly parted, beckoning him in without words. "I do agree." He said, his voice low. "I'd be honored to take you on my ship- I MEAN-"

His hood flared, the serpent sputtering frantic apologies at the freudian slip. Sure, it wasn't exactly a lie, but he should know better then reveal how filthy minded his thoughts of her were. 'Oh, sssurely I've done it now! There's no way I'm leaving here alive.'

"Pen," her voice broke through his blubbering. She dabbed her lips with her napkin, the picture of grace, the calm in his storm. "If I may call you that?"

"Anything," He breathed, hissing in an attempt to wet his rapidly drying mouth. He watched as she stood up, smoothing the fine fabric of her skirts. The reflection of the candlelight on her gown cast a purplish, incandescent glow on her skin, making the moment seem even more unreal. "You may call me anything, as long as it is me you are calling."

"Good boy," She breaths, clearly pleased with his response. His fangs worried at his lower lip, barely biting back a whimper. There was something hot and needy flickering to life in his gut, only intensifying when she stepped closer and took hold of his chin. "Stand up."

He rose so quickly that the table rattled disconcertingly and the chair he'd been carefully perched on launched itself a few feet away. His gaze was focused down, watching as her eyes first widened, then closed with an amused chuckle. His chest felt tight, nerves and need mingling into a cocktail that was making him queasy. Her hand found his lapel, carefully straightening it before sliding up to his shoulders.

"Kiss me,"

"Are you ssssure?"

"Kiss me, Pentious." She stated again, more firmly this time, and he did not wait to be told thrice. He knelt down quickly, teeth almost clattering with the force at which their lips met. She felt her chuckle into it, and pulled back long enough to hiss out another apology, before her arms were wrapping fully around his shoulders and forcing him to deepen the embrace.

His hands slid along her body, bracing on her back and hip. His apprehension melted away as her unsteady lips eagerly worked against his. Henrietta had never kissed another before, and her apparent inexperience allowed Pentious to feel bold. Although she'd not expressed as much, it was easy to assume her lack of dating experience extended to the physical aspects of courtship as well, and he wanted to make sure her first kiss was spectacular- so much so that she'd never want to kiss anyone else ever again. His tail slid along the tile, tip curling around her feet. With a jerking motion, he swiped her ankles, catching her in his deceptively strong arms and dipping her so deeply she was nearly perpendicular to the floor. She gasped against his lips, and he took the invitation to slide his tongue past hers. His grip tightened when she groaned, her body melting into his arms, relying on him entirely to support her.

They broke the kiss only when their lungs ached, spending a long moment staring at each other with flushed cheeks and heaving chests. "You are-" She paused, chest heaving with another labored breath. "*Quite* strong."

"In my line of work," He paused, grinning at her as he carefully adjusted her in his arms. He tossed her slightly, catching her in the crook of her arms and positioning her in a bridal carry. "You sort of have to be. Couldn't build war machinessss without the muscles required to cart around heavy metal."

"Are you hungry?" She asked, leaning upwards so that she could slide her lips down his jaw. He shuddered, spine turning to jelly for a moment before he managed to compose himself. He tightened his grip on her and straightened up.

"Starving, my Lady." He twisted his next so that he could capture her lips again. His tongue teased her jawline, sliding down the hollow of her neck. "But not for food. No, I crave something much sweeter." He bit her neck lightly, but found him abruptly pulled away by his hood. He hissed at the discomfort, looking at her with a wounded expression.

"Mind the fangs, darling. At least until we're alone." She kissed him again, wanting to assure him he hadn't committed some heinous sin that would lead to their night ending prematurely. "As much as I'd love for you to carry me to bed, it is quite easy to get lost in my home the first time you walk it's halls."

"Ah, ahem, yessss! It doessss seem quite labyrinthine." He admitted, carefully putting her down on the ground once more. "It is only right for you to lead, my Lady." He took his spot beside her, lingering slightly behind. His hand timidly reached out for hers as they began to walk, but he pulled back, still not quite sure what was okay to do. She noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye and smiled softly, pausing in her stride to let him catch up. He stopped when he noticed she did, opening his mouth to question her sudden pause, when she wrapped her arm around his and tugged him along.

The maids watched in confusion as the couple set giggling down the hall, feeling and looking much younger than their collective years. Word spread quickly among the house staff- the Lady and her guest were not to be interrupted that night.

Chapter Text

It was a long trek from the parlor they'd dined in. Pentious was thankful that the Lady had chosen to lead on foot, instead of attempting to direct him where she'd been briefly sat in his arms. But oh how the weight of her body felt nestled against him. The warmth of her had clung to his bones, spreading from where she was pressed to his chest. It was a concentrated effort to keep himself hidden. The only thing keeping his excitement contained was the very real threat that someone other then his lady would see him bare. Then again, thinking of her as his lady made it all that much more difficult.

Despite the length of the trek, it passed by in an instant. Pentious didn't have time to register the turns and decor that marked the transition from the public side of the house to Henrietta's wing, too smitten by the women on his arm to pay attention to anything but what lay in weight once they crossed the large, dark wooden door to her bedroom. Henrietta pulled him for another kiss the second the second they were alone. The door had shut behind them, and Henrietta paused for only a second to make sure it was locked. His nerves were palpable, obvious in the way he whimpered against her lips once they met. They had shared a kiss only minutes before, but all memory of how to kiss seemed to have fled his mind. The feeling of her hand sliding against his neck and her tongue sliding against his fangs made him melt, easing some of the nervous tension from his body. He so desperately wanted to please her, but focusing on that alone was trapping him in his own head. He was pliant and obedient in an instant, melting into the embrace with a groan.

"Would you help me undress?" She asked, but the sight of her flushed face and the lingering taste of her lips on his own made him momentarily forget how to speak. In fact, he'd forgotten that he was there to do anything other than kiss her.

'Oh fuck, oh god, she's staring at me. She asked a question, didn't she? She asked me to help her undress???' The snake swallowed hard, Adams apple noticeably bobbing. Even his hat seemed nervous- or perhaps it was embarrassed to be on the head of someone so inept, grimacing down at its wearer with apprehension in it's eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but the only noise that came out was an embarrassing whine. His cheeks somehow darkened when he realized the noise he'd made. He bit his lip and nodded, not trusting his voice a second time.

Henrietta's gentle smile and heavy lids did little to help his fluster, but she found that she adored that expression. She wasn't quite sure what she expected from the night, had their date progressed this far. Perhaps she assumed that he'd be more confident, bringing some of the bombastic flair he showed in battle into the bedroom. But she liked the whimpering, nervous puppy of a man that stood before her far more than she could ever expect.

She lead him over to her vanity and turned her back to him. With shaking hands, he reached towards the buttons of her dress. He struggled with the tiny, slippery, fabric wrapped buttons, eventually forcing himself to take a few deep breaths- calming himself just enough to stop shaking so violently. "S-sorry, my lady," he muttered, although he wasn't quite sure why he was apologizing. For taking too long? For failing to perform? There were numerous slights he could've committed against her in such a short amount of time- it was better to keep his apologies simple. Cover his bases.

"It's quite alright," she felt her bodice loosening, the sleeves of her gown inching down her shoulders. Once the back was unbuttoned she draped it over the back of her vanity chair, turning to face him and taking his face in both her hands. "You're alright, Pentious. You don't have to be nervous."

The snake was trying to heed her words, but with her bodice removed their height difference granted him a glorious view of her beautiful breasts. Her corset was well fitted, but the soft flesh still looked like it was about to spill from the cups. He hissed softly, unable to tear his eyes way from her ample cleavage for what felt like an eternity. 'Jesus chrisssst, why are they sssso big. I'm nothing but a ssscoundrel. Look at her face, you cad!! Her FACE!' He finally tore his eyes away, locking with hers. His hood had flared, however, and the ones set into it were locked on her breasts. Combined with the downright lascivious grin on his hat, it was clear where his mind had settled. "I-I'm trying, my lady. Y-you're just-" he whimpered again, trying desperately to swallow the sound. "Sssso beautiful. It's been far too long since I've been... intimate with anyone, and I don't think I've ever sssseen someone as gorgeoussss as you."

"What a charmer you are~" She cooed in a thick, husky tone that drew another whimper from the snake. He hadn't been trying to be charming, but he was very glad it had come across that way. Her compliments, and the gentle way her hands began to undress him were doing a number on the poor serpent. His head felt positively fuzzy.

'Wait, she's undressssing me? Oh, oh no- not yet, please, not-' His body ignored his silent, frantic, internal pleading. By the time she'd finished undressing him, she was presented with far more than just his torso. His cloaca had parted, twin shafts unsheathing themselves much without his permission. He held his breath, his scales crimson as he waited for her to react. The poor thing looked as if he wished to vanish any minute.

"Oh," Her eyes widened, voice barely above a whisper as they locked on his need. Pentious groaned, lifting his hands to cover his face and hissing out an apology.

"Sorry?" She cooed back, and any explanation was quickly cut off by a choked whimper as one of her hands wrapped around one of his shafts. She was surprised to find them slick. Some sort of viscous substance clung to the fronds that jutted off his light pink shafts, the color of which was already such a striking contrast to the rest of his body. She would have a fun time exploring his body slowly, but she was worried more about soothing his nervousness- if that was even possible. "Whatever are you sorry for?"

There wasn't a sound that left the serpents lips that wasn't pathetic. He fought with himself, trying to force his hands away from his heated face and look at her. She deserved that much, didn't she? For him to be able to look her in the eye no matter how shameful he felt 'Just look at her, you ingrate! She's touching you so gently and you can't even meet her eye! Pathetic!!' His own negative internal monologue made him whimper again, louder this time and far more strained. He could even feel his eyes begin to wet, and he screwed them shut tighter to fight off the threat of tears. How embarrassing would that be?

The Lady's brow furrowed. He looked so genuinely distraught and bashful at the reactions of his own body, reactions that she sought. Gently, she took his wrists in both hand and nudged them away from his face, softly cooing to him all the while. "Come now, pet. It's alright. I'm glad you're aroused by me, I brought you in here to lay with me, didn't I?"

Although his face still burned with shame and he hadn't quite fought the tears off entirely, he let her pull his hands away. He looked down at her face, the gentle expression she wore melting his anxieties further. With another soft sniffle, he nodded. "Ssssorry, my Lady."

"Once you've helped with my corset, I'd like for you to go lay down for me, alright?" her voice continued to be woefully soft- nearly maternal, in a way that was intensifying the dizzy sensation slowly taking over his brain. He could feel his worries and inhibitions fading with each word and gentle touch. He nodded, his fangs worrying at his lower lip.

"Good boy," she said, smirking softly at the whimper that left him at the compliment. She turned her back to him, and he tugged at her laces a little more confidently. Taking a deep breath, he reached around her front, unclasping the bindings of the busk one by one.

"You're possitively ravisssshing, my Lady," he hissed, pressing kisses to her neck and the exposed part of her shoulder. Beneath her corset was a thin shift that hid little from his eyes, which greedily looked her over in their reflection from the vanity mirror. He could even see the dark purple of her nipples beneath the gauzy fabric, pebbled and plump like nightshade berries. His mouth watered just thinking about it, and emboldened by the flush that spread across her face, he dropped her corset and cupped her heavy breasts.

"Your visage is akin to a Goddessss," his lips drag across her neck, his thumbs strum her nipples. He whines and thrusts his cocks against her backside involuntarily at the sweet sound she made, muttering out another apology against her skin.

"Pen," she felt his grip tighten on her in response to simply hearing his name. Her voice had gotten thicker, her german accent seeping in as her arousal grew. "You don't have to keep apologizing for your bodies natural reactions. You're allowed to be attracted to me, I don't want you to hold yourself back."

"I'll try, my lady," His voice was so quiet, muffled against her shoulder. Despite his insistence, he was nearly trembling with an attempt to restrain himself. She couldn't seem to break through the barrier of shame that the snake had built around himself. Even as inexperienced as she was, it was obvious. But she had time to work on that.

She turned in his arms, stealing a soft, quick kiss. She cupped his jaw, smiling up at him for a moment, drinking in his flushed and needy expression. "Go lay down, pen. You did a very good job undressing me,"

From anyone else that tone would come across as condescending, but it was just one of the many things about the lady that made his head spin. He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, and shakily slithered off. He laid down on the bed, his tail nervously writhing against the silken sheets.

Henrietta hesitated for a long moment, looking at herself in the vanity. She hadn't expected to need to take total control of the situation, and she needed a moment to compose herself. The thought of him laying there, aching for her touch but too timid to ask, spurred her onward. She discarded the last of many layers of clothing and stepped out from behind the partition.

Their eyes locked on each other as she strutted towards the bed. She chuckled softly as she saw his drift, his throat bobbing noticeably as he swallowed an excess of saliva the sight of her bouncing breasts. They were so big, one of them alone easily bigger then his head. He hated that was his first thought, but he'd always been embarrassingly fond of breasts. Then she was on him, her warm skin pressing against his body, and he couldn't stop his hands from wandering. They tentatively grasped her hips, lingering there for a long while before sliding upwards along her sides.

"You can touch me," she cooed, sensing his hesitance. She straddled him, her knees around his thin waist. He was such a long, lithe creature. She couldn't help but wonder if he fed himself well. He was strong, sure, but she was certain she'd be able to count his ribs if he arched. Right now, she just settled for running her hands up his chest, fingers spread to better feel the thinner scales of his abdomen under her palms. "I want you to touch me, Sir Pentious," Her eyes locked with his, letting her statement linger for a moment before she pressed her lips against him.

The kiss seemed to embolden him. His hands moved from her sides, exploring her soft skin, grasping and squeezing every part of her before finding places to settle. He reached down to grab her round bottom, and the lady muffled a groan against his lips at the feel of his large hand cupping her cheek so perfectly. The sound was quickly followed by a moan as his other hand cupped a breast, clawed thumb strumming carefully over her hardened nipple. He took her lips parting as an invitation, sliding his tongue past her lips and letting it flicker against hers. His eyes slitted, not entirely closing with the want to see her as they kissed. On some level, the serpent was afraid that if he looked away she'd vanish, and he'd have been dreaming her all along. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamt of such a thing, waking up sticky and ashamed in his bed.

His hand shifted, two fingers sandwiching the pert bud and gently tweaking it. Her lips broke from his, letting out a sweet moan, followed by her sinfully husky voice cooing out a soft "Good boy~" that had him whimpering. The praise when straight to his cocks. He'd almost forgotten how hard he was, but once he was reminded of the throbbing it wasn't so easily ignored.

"Please," he whispered, flushing when he realized he'd said it aloud. "I-I don't mean to sssseem pushy or ungrateful, b-but-"

"Hush, pet," She reared back enough to gently cup his jaw, her thumb pressing against his lips. "It's alright. I could never leave you this needy."

He whimpered, again. It seemed like he did that quite often. His hands slid down her body as she pulled away further, tightening around her hips when it felt like she was going to leave entirely. She paused, kneeling over him, only inclined far enough forwards that she could look down at him over the ample curves of her body. The sight was glorious, and he quickly found himself drooling. "What did I just say?" Her tone was gently chiding, but there was no anger or malice in it. In fact, she sounded downright amused. He swallowed the saliva filling his mouth and squeaked out an apology.

From the side table draw she retrieved a decorative glass bottle. She scooted down lower on his body, carefully holding it aloft. He could feel the damp heat against the scales of his tail as she straddled him once more, this time just beneath his cocks. The sight of him sized up against her was dizzying. He didn't know if he was big, she was short, or a mixture of the two, but he looked worryingly huge against her plump abdomen. He chewed his bottom lip, squeaking as she pulled his attention back to her with a word.

"I hope you don't mind I've made some... preparations," The contents of the bottle was thick and viscous, smelling faintly of aloe. He picked up on the scent when his tongue flickered out, but he was immediately distracted by the smell of her arousal. His tail flexed beneath her, and the moan it triggered matched his own as he felt how slick she was.

"N-no, not at all," It took all his concentration to be able to speak. He was unable to pull his eyes away from his need, and the way it stood out against her pale skin. Surely it wasn't going to fit? Oh, this was going to be disastrous. His thoughts were derailed before he could spiral by the feeling of her soft hands applying the cool lubrication over his painfully hard shafts.

His head fell against the pillow, back arching. Immediately, he was a cacophony of noises. Moans, pleads, whimpers, and hisses left his lips, mingling incoherently as his hips bucked pathetically into her hands no matter how hard he tried to restrain himself.

"Such a sensitive little pet I've found~" Henrietta was consistently caught off guard by the sweet, dirty words that left her lips. They tumbled out so freely, she scarcely even thought about it. It just felt so natural. His hands dug into the sheet below, claws pricking at the delicate threads. Her eyes stayed locked on his face, and as he brought his head back to look at her he was struck with the fearful realization that he was *not* going to lost long.

"S-sssssurely the lady doesn't intend to t-tAke both of them?" He cringed at the way his voice pitched, but he was lucky he could even speak with the way her fingers teased the spaded heads of both cocks. The sensation was all at once overwhelming, and he wanted to warn her, both those words escaped him, drowned in embarrassment and the desperation to perform well for her. To be her *good boy*.

"I do," once both shafts were properly lubricated, she placed the bottle back on the side table. She guided both into place, pressing against each of her holes. Her body tensed at the teasing sensation, but she willed herself to relax with a long exhale. "Is that a problem?"

"No, n-no, not at all," he muttered, mingling with the familiar cacophony of whimpers and moans.

"Good," His hands gripped her hips, digging in almost painfully as she sunk down on him. Her head tilted backwards, throat straining as a deep, delicious moan left her lips. Her hands gripped his wrists, using them as leverage as she worked herself down onto him inch by glorious inch. "Oh, Pen~"

"M-my lady, you-" his eyes screwed shut, face a mask of intense concentration as he tried not to finish immediately. He wasn't even all the way inside of her yet, but the sight of her bouncing on him, of his cocks disappearing into her velvet heat again and again, the sweet sonorous sounds that left her with each twitch and roll of her hips- it was proving very quickly to be too much. "Oh, my lady~ You feel divine~"

Her hands slid down his chest, seeking more leverage as he finally bottomed out in her. She'd never felt so full in her life, but the steady pace she'd taken and the fact that he was staying so perfectly still beneath her allowed the dull ache of being stretched so thoroughly to fade quite quickly. Her eyes opened, lids heavy as she drank in his trembling form. She could feel his tail as it tensed and writhed, the end of it arching up towards them and curling around her calve.

"You're hilted, my love," She was answered by another soft whimper. She slid a hand further up to cup his cheek. "Can you feel how deeply your buried inside of me?"

"Yes-" his response was clipped, swallowed by a desperate cry as her hips rolled against him. His claws dug into her hips again, cocks throbbing inside of the tight, warm confines of her body. He continued to moan and whine as she started riding him, his eyes opening and watching her face as she used his body to pleasure herself. He tried his best to stay still, although his body longed to thrust desperately up into her. His core was already coiling tighter, and he was terrified that any movement no matter how slight would spell the end for him.

"You feel so good, Pen,"

"Fuck," he cried- actually cried, tears spilling over his lids and down his cheeks. He screwed them shut in a desperate attempt to make them cease, but the lack of sight made it so much easier to focus on her sweet, ardent praise and the feeling of her heat sliding on and off of him.

"It's like your cocks were made for me," Her voice was husky, german accent growing thicker as she lost herself in the sensations. She let her body lead the way, rolling and arching as she chased the teasing climax that inched closer with each roll. Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of his expression, noticing how terribly still he'd been the whole time. Her hands slid up and down his chest in an attempt to sooth him, before one returns to his cheek. "Are you alright, pet?"

"Mhm!" He nodded ardently, biting down on his bottom lip even as he made the affirmative noise. 'Heavens above, why did she have to be so sweet? So kind? It'ssss making it that much harder to focusss on ssstaying ssstill. Fuck, isss that the issue? Does sssshe want me to move? Am I under performing? Fuck, fuck, alright, okay, I can do thisss.' His hands shifted, one wrapping around the curve of her bottom again, the other resting between her shoulders against her back. His tail shifted and coiled to allow him easier movement. Taking a shuddering, steeling breath, he thrust his hips upwards.

"Fuck-" he cried again, limbs wrapping around her and holding her body against his. It was like the dam had broken, and once he began moving, he couldn't stop, his hips desperate and unsteady as they bucked into her again and again and again. "Oh, fuck, Hen, m-my lady, I-" her own moans were muffled and drowned against his shoulder. She tried to continue speaking, to continue praising him so that he knew just how good he was doing, but she supposed the incoherent moaning did a good enough job of that on it's own.

"Mmm, H-hen- I-I" 'Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm ssssoo close. Too close. I sssshould warn her. Her body is so sssoft, sssso warm, I'm sssso close' He couldn't warn her, couldn't speak, couldn't think about anything but the woman on top of her, rolling as best she could to keep in time with his uneven thrusts. He thought of how sweetly she had spoken, how kind her touch had been, the way she always smiled so warmly. So radiant, so effortlessly dominant, so-

"Mommy~!" His climax hit him like a truck, barrelling through his body as he pumped his cocks shallowly into her. His grasp on her tightened, moving against her like he couldn't stand to be out of her warmth for more than a second. Henrietta groaned as she felt him fill her, the excess overflowing around his still rigid shafts. She hadn't managed to find that merciful bliss before him, but she couldn't find it in herself to care at the moment. Especially not when she noticed he was crying.

"S-sorry," the serpent muttered, repeating the apology as full body sobs soon began to overtake him. Not only did he finish early, but he'd finally spat out the word that had been dangling on his tongue all evening, and now he was crying. 'How embarssssssing.'

She pushed up against his chest, swallowing the groan at the shift in positions. His breath hitched at the sensation, but the sound was camouflaged by the sniffling sobs he was trying desperately to keep quiet. She cupped his cheeks, attempting to wipe his tears away, but they wouldn't stop flowing. "Shhh, pet. My sweet, sweet darling. What's wrong?"

"I-I'm jusssst s-sss-sssso sssorry," between hisses and hiccuping, she wasn't going to be able to get much of anywhere. He continued sputtering out apologies even after she pulled off of him. In fact, her pulling away even slightly made him cry harder, panic settling in his chest at the thought of her gentle warmth leaving even if he felt that he deserved to be left. He should be made to wallow in his shame until he cried himself to sleep, as he did whenever feelings this intense overwhelmed him.

"Shh, darling," but she didn't leave. Her voice was just as soft as it had been before- softer, even, as she laid at his side and guided his head into her bosom. She rubbed his back soothingly, holding him close as he shuddered and sobbed. Being held with such gentle firmness caught him off guard, and for a second he was silent, breath held as he stiffened against her. The poor snake had no clue how to react to such kindness, but it seemed that the only thing he could muster was more tears. His arms coiled around her waist, holding her close and allowing her scent and skin to sooth him. His sobs died down, until he wasn't doing much more than hiccuping and sniffling, the occasional stilted apology slipping from his lips.

"Shh, shhh, there we are," The entire time he cried, she gently rubbed his back. She'd occasionally shush him when a particularly harsh sob wracked his body, and frequent, fluttering kisses were pressed against his forehead. "There we are, pet. Nice and calm. Nice, sweet pet. Now," she guided his head away from her chest and began dabbing at his face with a summoned handkerchief. "What brought you to tears?"

"I don't-" his brow furrowed, and his breath hitched again as tears threatened to flow anew. "I don't know. I thought- I thought that you'd be disssgusted by me. A-and dissssapointed at how quickly I..." his cheeks flushed red and he averted his eyes, burring his face in her chest again. "arrived."

"Now why would I feel either of those things?" She guided his gaze back towards her, not letting him escape the loving radiating out of her expression. "You warned me it had been a while, so I'm not surprised at your sensitivity. And what did you do that would disgust me?"

"I-" he paused, immediately overcome with shame. His head dove back into her chest. The two were locked in a constant, silent battle where he tried to avoid her loving gaze, and she tried to guide it back towards him. "I called you... mommy."

"Oh," The way she sighed sent another shudder down his spine. She didn't sound nearly as upset as he thought she should be. In fact, she sounded aroused. Her core ached with need, and she clung to him tighter as warmth rushed through her. "Oh, darling, I don't mind." Her hand continued to rub up and down his back, trying to ignore the way her breath hitched as his tongue flickered against her neck. She felt his tail shifting, uncoiling from her leg only to change position and coil anew. He whimpered at the sensation of his cocks dragging across her thigh, and she was struck with the realization that he was still hard.

The damp handkerchief was discarded with the same subtle flick of her wrist that summoned it. Her hand wrapped around one of his two shafts. "Look at you, pet. Still so needy," he whimpered against her chest, hands gripping her tightly as his hips rocked his hips. With how closely they were cuddled up, both cocks were sandwiched perfectly between them, dragging across her soft skin with each slow, stuttering thrust. "You're such a good, sweet pet. An adorable, gentle little thing. You can call me mommy, pet~"

"Mmm-" the first syllable hums out, repeated again, vibrating against her collarbone. "Mmm- mmm-mommy~" it felt like forever before he finally got the desperate moan out, arms and tail coiling even tighter around her. "Mmmommy, please. I'm going to- I'm-" he whined, burying his head in her neck. He didn't know how he felt being to sole focus of such intense pleasure. Surely, she hadn't finished yet, and instead of berating him for that she was driving him perilously close to the edge again.

"You can cum again, Pen." Her lips dragged down his cheek, then his neck, sharp canines nipping teasingly against the thinner patch of scales. "You're such a good boy, Pen. Let mommy make you feel good,"

'Am I dreaming? This musssst be a dream, right? Lady Henrietta Hemlocke could never be ssso gentle, and would never call hersself ssomething ssooo vulgar. No, no, I'm dreaming, I'm-' He felt himself slowly come apart again, not nearly as intensely as his first climax but just as sweet. She could feel an embarrassing amount of warmth spill from his cocks, hips stuttering as he whimpered out another ardent cry of "mommy" against her neck. He continued to tremble long after he'd come down from his high, guided by her loving hand.

"Mm, s-ssssorry, mommy," he panted, nuzzling in closer still. Although he continued apologizing, it had lost the pathetic edge to it, wariness giving way to weariness as a pleasant afterglow settled across his body. He was even purring softly, his shuddering breaths evening out. Another strange cocktail of feelings, this time adoration and disappointment, settled in her gut at the realization that he was likely going to fall asleep.

"You're alright, pet." She cooed, putting aside the lingering ache of her desire. She settled down more comfortably, smiling softly when he whimpered at the movement, red eyes fluttering open as he clung to her. "Shh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just getting more comfortable. Come here," she guided him back into her embrace, chuckling softly as he eagerly sought her warmth.

The serpent wanted to give in to the shame at under performing. Certainly a woman as formidable as the Lady Hemlocke wouldn't stand for such disrespect. But he couldn't find anything within him but *warmth*. It radiated off of her, each touch and kiss and coo soothing long festering wounds that Sir Pentious had scarcely even acknowledged existed, let alone done the work to heal them himself.

For once in his life, he let himself relax, slowly lulled to sleep by the soothing touch of his lover.

Henrietta wasn't as lucky. There was a need within her that burned so hot it hurt, ache settling deep in her core- a desire for release unlike she'd ever felt before. She tried several times to extract herself from the serpents embrace, but every time he clung tighter to her and whimpered, she caved. She was worried about causing him undue distress, or making him feel as if he had to perform past his limits just because she was left wanting. When his reactions dulled, she finally managed to pull free, slipping from his arms and quickly making her way through the dark into her bathroom. It was only once the door was closed that she turned the lights on, still not wanting to wake him.

Her bathroom was a stunning blend of modern and antique. A large claw foot tub sat in the center of the room, but she also had a standing shower big enough for her to comfortably rinse in. Right now, she approached the wash basin. The sink was already full, having been prepared earlier in the likely event she'd need to clean herself up. She faced her reflection now, stunned by the sight she saw. Her hair was a mess, curls coming loose and falling out of their pinned positions against her scalp. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips puffy and swollen from how desperately she'd been kissed. Her abdomen and the space between her thighs glistened with the evidence of his climax. She was certain the sheets looked worse, but there was a not insignificant amount clinging to her stomach and sex, milky white and more viscous than she thought it should be. She pressed her fingertips to the mess on her stomach and shuddered. She felt positively filthy, in the best way possible.

She took a shuddering breath and tried to shake the sensation from her. She grabbed a washrag and soaked in in water from the basin, ringing out the excess and beginning to wipe herself clean. Her mind wandered as she did, no longer focused on her reflection. Instead, she thought about the events that had caused the mess- the simpering, desperate, woefully submissive man she'd manage to ensnare in her bedsheets. Never did the lady think she'd find a man so perfectly suited to her needs- so eager to please that he cried at just the thought of disappointing her. The rag slapped wetly against the wooden counter top when she slammed her hand down on it. She cursed softly, sliding her other hand between her thighs. A groan left her lips when she felt how sticky she was. The texture of it was truly remarkable- not that she had many pleasant experiences to compare it too. Her own slick and the remnants of his cum provided more than enough lubrication to have her fingers gliding effortlessly over her sex in an attempt to assuage her lingering need.

Her lips parted in a series of soft, quiet moans. She could feel how swollen her clit had become without even having to look. She scissored her fingers around the hard nub, sliding them over and over, tips of her fingers teasing her entrance. Her moans grew louder, hips rocked into the steady movements of her hand. She wasn't a stranger to self pleasure, and with how close to the edge she'd been left, it wouldn't take her long to tip over. She pressed the pads of her fingers against her clit, rub in in quick, tight circles until her legs shook and her vision whited out. "Pen!" She cried on climax, biting down on her knuckles quite quickly, left propped up by her elbow. She held her breath, growing dead silent for a moment as she listened for movement from the other room. When there was no indication she'd woken him, she allowed herself to breath freely, chest heaving as she struggled to compose herself.

She made much quicker work of cleaning herself. The longer she lingered with the sight of her mussed appearance, the hotter the lingering embers of desire burned within her. She doubted she'd be truly sated unless it was by his hand, but they had plenty of time for that.

Freshly clean, with her loosened hair braided behind her back, she returned to the bedroom. Once again, she allowed no light to escape the bedroom, and made no noise that could disturb her sweet pet's slumber. She made her way carefully through the dark, climbing into bed as subtly as possible. Pentious stirred, but didn't wake. His hands sought her out, gripping her by the hip and pulling her back against his body. She let out a soft gasp when she was yanked off balance, but found his presence comforting. His tail slid between her legs, the end of it coiling around her calf. His wiry arms coiled around her torso, holding her firmly in place. It wouldn't be so easy for her to slip out again, but Henrietta couldn't think of any place she'd rather be.