Valdemar x Devil!Lucio Fluff (One-shot)

The salon was one of the few rooms left in the palace where one could find some peace. Ironic, as this room was once one of the livelier places in the palace. After all, the salon was where Countess Nadia would entertain her guests. Now, it was an echo of its former self.

Since his resurrection and merging with the boss, Count Lucio ran with a different crowd, and these new guests had a habit of "borrowing". Not that Valdemar cared about the state of the rooms throughout the palace, nor the drunkards who sloppily paraded through the hallways with pockets full of silverware. However, the room was simply lacking. It was not quite the same without Countess Nadia's fingers gliding across the ivory keys with precision and grace. Instead of the haunting melodies of a grand piano and the idle chatter of the other courtiers, the room was filled with the distant echoes of intoxicated partygoers reciting a rather impolite folk song about a sea captain's cousin.

However, Valdemar was paying little attention to the commotion outside and quietly sipped their tea. They chose instead to focus on the decorating choices they felt were an improvement. For example, the dying flowers wilting in waterless vases were a nice touch. Additionally, the portrait that Count Lucio had commissioned in his mother's likeness had some alterations. It was laying waste on the ground below where it was once proudly hung. The vandalism was done with such intention that Valdemar was certain the count had crossed out the eyes himself. Valdemar pondered if he had done so in a fit of rage. The count had such a temper, and judging from his interaction with his mother, there was a lot of emotional baggage to unpack. While the symbolism was a tad on the nose, Valdemar appreciated the irony none-the-less. It was Lucio who murdered his own mother. It was only fitting he should be the one to remove the light from her portrait's eyes too.

Without much warning, the doors of the salon burst open with a bang; shaking the few portraits that still hung on the walls. Yet, Valdemar sat unflinching despite the abrupt entrance from the count.

"Alright, I'll catch you guys later." called Count Lucio to a chorus of guttural cheers and whooping from the end of the hall. Valdemar peered at the count from over their teacup as they took a long sip. They had been wondering what was taking the count so long. He had been the one who had requested a meeting with them. To keep them waiting seemed in poor taste.

"Crazy guys." chucked Lucio to himself before turning his attention to Valdemar. "Hey, there you are! Where have you been? You weren't at last night's party. You missed Vulgora tackling several new recruits. You should have seen them go at it. We were taking bets and everything."

"Hm." hummed Valdemar as they peered into their teacup, finding more interest in the way the tea leaves settled to the bottom of their cup than Lucio's story. However, Lucio did not seem to notice as he reenacted the punches and kicks of last night's tussle; knocking over a chair in the process. "But hey, don't worry about missing it. They'll probably do it again tomorrow night. You're gonna love it."

"I am sure, my count." lied Valdemar.

Lucio seemed convince Valdemar was genuine, and with an exaggerated groan, he slumped into the chair next to them. Valdemar watched as he adjusted the scabbard on his waist, the end of which clanked aggressively on the hardwood floor. His legs then spread out for maximum comfort as he sunk into his seat. It would seem he was finally situated, and he looked merrily back at Valdemar expecting them to speak first. The quaestor closed their eyes. Admittedly, their patience was wearing thin. With a short sigh, they placed their teacup on the table and prepared themselves to address the count.

"Is there a reason you have called me here today, my count?" asked Valdemar as politely as they could muster.

A spark of realization lit in Lucio's eyes. "Oh, yeah, that's right! I gotcha something." said Lucio as he started rummaging through a small satchel. "I felt like we left it kinda weird at that old broad's house, and I been wanting to make it up to you."