New Beelzebub in Hazbin Hotel

Beelzebub sat on her throne, her golden eyes dull with boredom as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the armrest. The grand hall, usually filled with the revelry of the damned, was eerily quiet. Time dragged on, and she had grown weary of the endless stream of new demons and sinners attending her parties. The novelty had long since worn off. She craved something new, something exciting.

Her thoughts wandered. Lilith, once a source of entertainment, had been exiled to Heaven, of all places, leaving Beelzebub without her usual place to annoy someone. Charlie, Lucifer's daughter, had entered her defiant teenage phase, wanting nothing to do with anyone, isolating herself in some remote corner of Hell. And Lucifer himself was a mess, sinking deeper into depression because he hadn't seen his daughter in what felt like an eternity. Hell had become a dull, dreary place without their usual antics to keep her entertained.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she slumped further into her throne. Just as she considered dozing off into the void, a faint shimmer of hope flickered to life.

Pandemonica, ever the dutiful servant, stepped forward from the shadows and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "My Lady, Sir Stolas would like to speak with you."

Beelzebub's hollow expression turned into one of mild confusion. "Who?"

Pandemonica straightened, her deadpan face unchanging. "My Lady, the bird demon you gave advice to a few years ago. He seeks an audience."

Beelzebub's memory remained as foggy as ever, but she waved her hand dismissively. "Send him in. This could be fun."

Pandemonica bowed gracefully before turning to fetch Stolas. As the heavy doors of the throne room creaked open, she reappeared, guiding the nervous-looking demon in with an indifferent wave.

"Sir Stolas," she announced, "Lady Beelzebub is expecting you."

Stolas straightened his posture, though Pandemonica could tell he was on edge. It wasn't surprising—any demon with half a brain would be nervous standing before the embodiment of Gluttony. Pandemonica quickly left to attend to her own matters, probably to nap off the weariness of eternal bureaucracy.

Beelzebub's face lit up with recognition as Stolas entered the room. "Hey, birdy! How've you been?"

She rose from her throne with surprising energy, clapping him on the back as she led him toward a side room, a more private setting for their conversation. Stolas followed, stiff and unsure, his feathers ruffling slightly with nerves.

"Well, my Lady," he began cautiously, "I have a daughter now. And... there's something important I'd like to discuss with you."

Beelzebub, her usual carefree self, smacked him lightly on the back again. "Ah, birdy, why so formal? I told you last time to relax with me!"

But Stolas couldn't relax. How could he? Before him stood a demoness who had gone toe to toe with Lucifer himself, someone he both feared and respected. They entered a smaller chamber, dominated by a single table and two chairs. Beelzebub plopped into one, motioning for Stolas to take the other.

"Alright, birdy, spill it. What's bothering you?" Beelzebub's tone was cheerful, as it often was when she was in a good mood. Lucky for Stolas, he seemed to always catch her on these rare days.

Stolas hesitated, but finally began. "I'm in a bit of a predicament, my Lady. You see, my wife and I have a daughter, but... I…"

"Come on, out with it! Don't be shy," Beelzebub interrupted, pouring herself a cup of tea from a delicate kettle that looked far too refined for the likes of Hell.

Stolas accepted a cup as well, taking a tentative sip. He grimaced slightly. The taste was weird, to say the least.

"If I may ask, what's this tea made from?" he inquired, trying to be polite despite the odd flavor.

Beelzebub grinned mischievously. "Oh, just a little something from my own fluids. Keeps you strong!"

Stolas choked, coughing into his hand as Beelzebub laughed. "Hehehe. Relax, birdy. Now, tell me—what's the real problem?"

Stolas straightened his posture, setting the cup down. "Well, my Lady, I've fallen in love with an imp. But the issue is that I'm in a contract with him."

Beelzebub threw her head back and laughed, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Hahahahahaha"

"..."

"Oh, Stolas, I'm not laughing at you—just at the whole situation! An imp, of all things."

Stolas squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether to feel insulted or relieved. "So… what should I do?" he asked, his voice laced with desperation.

Beelzebub's expression shifted from amusement to one of incredulity. "Does the imp love you back?"

Stolas entwined his fingers and looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "That… I don't know. But I don't want to be with my wife anymore. Things were good at the start, thanks to your advice, but she's been ignoring my... advances."

Beelzebub rolled her eyes, thinking how clueless he truly was. "Then divorce her. The marriage has served its purpose, hasn't it? Or, if you want a more direct solution—kill her."

Stolas snapped his head up, alarmed. "I can't do that! She's from one of the noble families."

Beelzebub leaned back in her chair, her mind turning. 'Noble families this, noble families that. Doesn't he get it? Hell is about power, not lineage.' In her eyes, Stolas was still a child, a naive toddler who clung to outdated notions of Hell's nobility. A mischievous smile began to form on her face.

"Well, my Lady," Stolas continued hesitantly, "the divorce idea isn't bad, but it's complicated."

Beelzebub waved her hand, dismissing the thought. "Alright, birdy, what about this imp situation? Does he even want to be with you?"

Stolas fell silent. The truth was, he wasn't sure. Beelzebub sensed his uncertainty and saw an opportunity.

She stretched out her hand toward him. "How about we make a deal?"

Stolas eyed her warily. "A deal?"

"Yes, birdy. I'll tell you what to do, but in exchange, you'll owe me a little favor. Just a tiny one."

Stolas stared at her hand, hesitant, but after a moment's consideration, he reached out and shook it. A faint glow surrounded them, and above their heads, the head of a fly appeared—Beelzebub's mark.

'What a naive fool blinded by love,' she thought to herself. 'I'll make him dependent on me. Give him advice that will only complicate things further, and soon enough, he'll come crawling back for more help. Piece by piece, his soul will be mine.'

"So, birdy," she said with a sly grin, "here's what you do: break the contract and give the imp what he wants. Let's see how much he truly cares for you."

Stolas mulled over her advice, nodding slowly. It sounded reasonable, but something about Beelzebub's tone made him uneasy.

He stood from his seat and bowed. "Thank you, my Lady. But, if I may ask, what will you want in return?"

Beelzebub smiled sweetly, a look that would send chills down the spine of anyone who knew her well. "Oh, nothing for now. I'll let you know when I need something."

Satisfied, Stolas left the chamber. No sooner had the door closed behind him than it was flung open again with a deafening crash, the wood splintering and the frame giving way.

Justice stood in the doorway, her usual overenthusiastic grin plastered on her face. "Beelzebub! Time for battle!"

Without missing a beat, Justice lunged at Beelzebub, fists flying. Beelzebub, unfazed, delivered a swift punch to Justice's face, sending her flying through the ceiling and into the skies of Hell. The hole left in the roof was impressive.

Beelzebub looked up at the gaping hole, a smirk forming on her lips. "This will be fun. But as for you, birdy... let's see how far you fall."

(End of a chapter)