If He Doesn't Call You A "beautiful Cataclysm", Then He Ain't It, Ladies.

If he doesn't call you a "beautiful cataclysm", then he ain't it, ladies.

tumblr posts about writing bilingual characters: bilinguals DO NOT change their language in the middle of the conversation! It's unrealistic!

me, who said the phrase "i have beaucoup de friends" this morning:

modern au disaster trio

No thoughts, head empty, just Thomas Cresswell's "My best friend, the absolute love of my life, now until forevermore, I call you my wife." to Audrey Rose Wadsworth...

just finished kotc kill me kill me rn😃🔫

WHAT THE FUCK IM IN SO MUCH PAIN RN

ill write a proper review closer to the publication date!! but a few brief thoughts are:

1) princewitch domesticity curing my depression we love to see it

2) october will kill us all!! those reveals had me laying on my floor in shock.

3) i need kotw 3 immediately especially after that last chapter

Bittersweet

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you

Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

- Favourite Crime, Olivia Rodrigo

Description: One sleepless night in Hell, Emilia decides to find the kitchen and seek solace in cooking, but instead finds herself in the company of her mortal enemy and maybe-something-more, Wrath.

(I just wanted to write about Princewitch making Hot Chocolate, but it somehow turned into this...)

Many thanks to @city-of-fae for giving me her time of day to beta-read and help me edit this fic. She was the first person I found who wrote for KOTW and her fics are beautiful and you all should check them out. In conclusion, she's amazing. 💕

Hope you all enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome! ❤️

Goddess above, have some mercy. Emilia cursed as she turned over in her bed for what she thought was the thousandth time. Sleep had started to seem like a luxury to her over the last few days. When she'd first arrived in Hell, the sheer exhaustion had been enough to have her drained every night. After those initial days, however, it had started becoming common for her to stay up staring at the ceiling or to grab a book off the bed table and get lost in its world.

Currently, she debated going to the library to pick up something new, but ultimately decided against it. Wrath often worked there at night, making a strategy to annihilate some enemy. Perhaps it was her. She wouldn't be surprised.

After a week of hostility from both their ends prior to her wedding with Pride, they had decided to strike a deal. She could do all she wished in his House, and would even have access to all forbidden text in its library, but would not attempt to spy on his nightly planning or practice any magic she learnt from the books on him. Of course, this was only as long as he was out of the list of Vittoria's possible murderers. He hadn't lied to her during their time in Palermo together, she knew that. She had spent many nights analysing every word he'd said in answer to her accusations. None of them pointed to him being the killer. For now.

After a few more minutes of mulling over those events, Emilia finallly got up from the bed. The Goddess of Leisure wasn't going to bless her tonight.

She looked around her room, looking for something to occupy her mind with. The chamber was a thing of beauty, with golden carvings on its black walls and tastefully selected furniture on the same theme. Wrath's theme. Stupid suave perfect demon. Shaking herself, she glanced at the ceiling: a painting of a war she didn't know anything about, though she often tried to count the soldiers on the nights she lay awake. That didn't seem appealing today.

Sighing, she flopped down onto the sofa, and heard a low rumble from her stomach. She hadn't visited the kitchens yet- had purposefully avoided them. Cooking reminded her of her family, and she wasn't sure she was prepared for the homesickness that would bring. Most nights, her books helped her ignore any hunger she felt, but she didn't have their aid tonight. Would going to the kitchen be such a bad idea? Maybe she could use a little reminder of home. It didn't take long to convince herself as she stood and walked out of her room.

~

Emilia knew she was lost the moment she approached a stairway she hadn't seen before. It was grander, forked much more than the others. Cursing every goddess she knew of, she paced in circles, weighing her options. She could try to find her way back or-

She felt a door open behind her. She whirled around and saw a shadowed figure standing in the dark of the doorway, dagger in hand. Emilia froze, a dozen spells leaping into her mind. But as she prepared to cast a body-freezing spell, the person lowered his weapon and stepped out.

"I didn't take you for someone who would murder people in their sleep, witch." It was too dark for her to see Wrath's expression, but she knew him well enough to sense a hint of amusement as he looked her down and up. For some reason, she relaxed under his gaze.

Emilia raised a brow. "And miss the shock in your eyes when I finally kill you? I wouldn't risk that."

"Still overestimating your assassination skills, I see."

She rolled her eyes at that. It seemed so long ago when she'd summoned him in that cave. Shared cannolis with him. That memory brought a faint smile to her lips, and when Emilia brought her eyes back to Wrath, he was watching her intently, dressed in his signature attire: black trousers and black shirt with golden embroidery. There wasn't ever a moment he didn't look tantalisingly gorgeous.

She burnt those thoughts and threw out the ash.

"Would you happen to know where the kitchen is, demon?" She ignored the questioning look he gave her at the shift in conversation. "Well?"

He nodded slowly and without another word, started walking in the direction she had come from. Frowning, Emilia followed him. They walked in silence for less than a minute before she poked his arm.

"Are you taking me to your killing chamber?" She was only half-joking.

Wrath gave her a flat look and continued walking. So much for small talk.

After a few more minutes, they reached one of the palace kitchens. It was dead silent and yet, entering it, she felt an odd sense of comfort. As Wrath put some lights on, she noticed the room was minimal in its design and utensils. She suspected Wrath had deliberately brought her to that kitchen. It was modest- by his standards- quiet and not flashy. Exactly what she was used to from her family restaurant. Stupid suave perfect demon.

Said demon was presently leaning against the counter and observing her while she checked out the untensils and ingredients. She ignored him. He'd leave soon anyway.

Chocolate. How long has it been since I last had chocolate? Nodding to herself, Emilia took out a pot, a whisk, a few spoons, cocoa powder, sugar, and after looking around for a bit, milk, chocolate and cream. Why does a House in Hell have all of this readily available? She didn't know and decided that she didn't particularly care. After what felt like ages, Emilia was back in her element, and she wasn't going to spend this one night of peace thinking about the logistics of shopping in Hell.

She turned to put her supplies on the counter and stopped short as she noticed Wrath in the same position as before, his golden eyes- with flecks of black- a little darker than usual. She narrowed her eyes and looked down at herself-

Nightgown. She was in a nightgown. A black, thin-strapped, low cut nightgown. In her eagerness to get to the kitchen, she had forgotten to put anything else on....But Wrath didn't need to know that, did he? So, she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him. "Like what you see, Your Higheness?"

Wrath looked away instantly and Emilia couldn't help her smug smile. It wasn't everyday one managed to fluster a Prince of Hell.

"But really, are you just going to lurk there? You have done your escorting duties. You can leave now. It won't be taint on your record of flawless etiquette."

He met her eyes again and opened and shut his mouth once. Sweet Goddess, I haven't ever seen him struggle for words.

Wrath cleared his throat. "Let us say- hypothetically, of course- if I were curious to see whatever human food you were making, how likely is it that you'd try and poison me?"

Emilia smirked at him. "I suppose you don't find my food to be a pollutant for your body anymore." He gave her another flat look and she mirrored it with one of her own. "It's a hot drink called Hot Chocolate. One of my favourites."

A thought came to mind, and she continued. "And the idea that you've been to the human world and never had it is making me question your sanity. You're welcome to try, but you will have to make it yourself. Unless you're incapable of cooking, that is." He scowled at the challenge. She smiled innocently at him.

"Very well, then. Tell me how it's done. Just know that, if in the end, you feel bad about your best skill, you brought it upon yourself."

Emilia winked at him. "Overestimating your cooking skills, I see."

Wrath walked over to her, undoing the buttons at his cuffs and rolling the shirt up to his elbows as he did. Emilia stared, suddenly more aware of her skin. Hadn't she once read a female lead describing her lover's forearms in vivid detail? It seemed strange to her then, but now, she understood her. Wrath looked up and caught her mid-gawking. The beginnings of a smirk appeared at his lips, but before he could open his mouth to undoubtedly mock her, she grabbed the pot and thrust it into his hand.

"I believe you know how to start a fire. So, get to work. No magic allowed." He raised his hands and muttered something that sounded like Yes, Your Majesty, but didn't speak further.

~

A few minutes later, they had a flame and Emilia had a headache, trying to get Wrath to add a little bit of salt into the rest of the mixture.

"You just told me sugar makes things sweet and salt makes them savoury. Why would we add it when we want this drink to be sweet?" He had his arms crossed across his chest, a gesture she associated with his pig-headedness.

She groaned as she tried to explain it again. "Salt balances the sweetness and enhances the flavour. It's not that complicated."

She held out a palm to him as he started to counter. "Why do you add gold on top of your black?" He thought for a moment and finally looked convinced as he added the pinch of salt she'd made him pick out. Thank goddess.

"Quickly now." He glanced sideways at her. "Please." She added begrudgingly. Why had she decided to challenge him in the dead of night?

"Now use the whisk to stir in circles and mix until there are no lumps."

Emilia stepped back to observe him, and when he started turning the whisk with enough force to break the pot itself, she finally cracked.

She doubled over in laughter, and when Wrath turned to look at her with a wary expression, she lost it all over again.

"Here." She went closer to him once she had some semblance of composure back, and put a hand over his holding the whisk. He froze but didn't pull away, so she started guiding him through controlled, gentle turns of the whisk. She was vaguely aware that she was still in a nightgown, but it felt ludicrous to pay attention to that when she could instead focus on the heat of his chest against her back. She could feel him looking at her and twisted her head to meet his gaze over her shoulder. The blazing fire she thought she had seen when he looked at her back in Palermo was back, and she was dazed to realise that she had missed and craved it ever since. His eyes- such frustratingly beautiful eyes- shifted down to her lips and back in the span of a second. She had no doubt he could hear her erratic heartbeat. Some part of her mind was screaming that this was dangerous territory. She was Pride's queen, but was a part of House Wrath. The dynamic was scandalous enough already.

But would it really matter if this scandal got a little more fuel?

A loud crackle in the fire brought her out of her haze, and she jumped back. No, she was acting ridiculous. Wrath was the flame, and she was the splinter of wood it burnt while crackling.

"Emilia-"

"You should put the pot on the flame." Her voice was shaking. Much like my sanity.

Wrath hesitated for a moment, but then did as she asked. They worked in silence for a while, before she ultimately had to tell him to keep stirring every now and then.

~

Emilia felt lost. Everything in this world was so connived. And Wrath, he was as much a mystery to her now as he was that first day in the cave. But he was also her one familiarity here.

He was a flame, yes. But she was finding it harder each day to stay away from him.

Could she not come near enough to let him keep her warm, but not enough to burn?

She watched him, but his attention was devoted to the boiling mixture, a faint smile on his lips. She stared. He was smiling. Not smirking, not grimacing. Smiling. It brought one to her face too. The first real smile since she'd left her home.

She went closer again, this time stopping at a respectable distance. "Time for judgement." She gave him a half-mocking half-encouraging smile. She was glad he didn't bring up what had happened some minutes ago. Grabbing a spoon, she brought one spoonful of the cocoa to her mouth and almost melted from the nostalgia it brought.

It tasted so much like...love. Just like how Nonna and Vittoria always made it. She closed her eyes and relished in its taste. She wanted to savour it as long as she could.

"The verdict, Your Majesty?" She opened one eye and closed it again. Wrath was smirking. Of course he was.

"You're not Emilia di Carlo, but you did a halfway decent job." She opened her eyes and smirked at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe you do belong with Pride, after all."

"The Sin Corridor didn't think so. Keep being an ass and you'll find out why."

"I'm guessing because it knew how truly irresistible you find me. Or have you forgotten your little... hallucination back there?" How could she? It was mortifying.

She pointed her spoon at him as if it were a knife. "Bring that up again, and I really will consider stabbing you in your sleep."

He chuckled. "You don't have to make excuses for coming into my chambers, cara mia."

Cara mia. My darling. She blushed all the way down to her neck. Damn him. But that didn't have quite as much effect, considering their location. So she just glared at him until he chuckled again and got the pot off their flame.

Emilia brought out two mugs, and poured the milk out equally. Almost. She gave herself a teacher's bonus. If Wrath noticed, he didn't comment.

They stood leaning back on the counter, staring at the opposite wall, with a cup of hot cocoa in their hands. If she didn't know the position she was in and the events that brought her there, she would think she had found peace. In reality, though, she had managed to find a spot in the precise opposite of Peace.

"What other treasures such as this one are you hiding in your grimoire?" Wrath didn't have a single drop of milk on or around his mouth, while she was certain she had a whole lining around hers. How did he manage to drink like that?

"If I was hiding something, you'd be the last person I'd tell. But am I right to understand that the mighty Prince Wrath, with all this luxury, considers chocolate milk a treasure? Is that all I need to bribe him to do my bidding?"

"I deal in bargains, witch. Not bribes." He paused, conflicted on whatever he was about to say. As he looked straight into her eyes, all traces of emotion were gone.

"How are you, Emilia?" She started on his use of her name. He made it sound like a hymn. It made her wish he'd say it more often, perhaps in other, more pleasant situations. She shook such thoughts out. He'd asked if she was okay. Why did he care? Did he care? She wasn't expecting this display of...was it concern she sensed? No, it must have been a trick of her imagination.

"I'm in Hell, demon. I would say that's enough of an answer as to how I am." He didn't budge. She muttered a useless prayer and sighed. "I'm just trying to survive. And find my sister's killer while trying to avoid getting killed myself. In the midst of all that, I haven't thought about anything else. But that's not a road I'm prepared to go down tonight. Let me be delusional for a few more hours."

He nodded. "I'll drink to that."

"To delusion." She raised her own mug.

A part of her wanted to laugh at how childish it was to do a toast with hot chocolate. But then again, that was one of the less unusual things she had been a part of. They sipped their drinks in silence.

"I do understand now where Gluttony is coming from." His tone was dry.

She blinked. "How dare you associate my hot cocoa with him? Take your words back. Now."

Wrath huffed out a laugh, and Emilia figured that if a night of delusion meant that she could have a second of pause from her world crumbling around her, she'd take it with open arms.

~~~

Author's note: Okay listen, it's been a while since I wrote anything, so whatever feedback you all have, please send it my way! Don't hesitate at all. I know this isn't as romantic as most of you probably wanted, but I'm just a little hesitant to write elements of romance, because frankly, I don't trust myself much with it and don't want it to be awkward.

And yes, I went through all of Olivia Rodrigo's lyrics to find one to use as the track for this fic. I have no regrets.

Anyway, there...I did it @ghostiewriter . You better act on your end of our bargain now. I'm waiting. 👀

Also, shoutout to @feysandfeels for telling me about the endearment "Cara Mia" which I've been told is Italian for "My Darling". This concept lives rent-free in my head.

@ssardothien @kingandfireheart @evolving-dreamer @bookologist @godscursedd @sirendeepity @gwynlaithlunel @tea-istic @polaroidsintheocean @trowen @effervescent-bean @doesitmatterseriously @deepdive-with-aurelius @wrathscannoli + the 3 people I mentioned at different points above (Liss, Saarah and Luisa...I don't want to spam your notifs more than I have to, so tagging you once seems enough. 😂)