There was a strange irony to this day. It was the middle of December; the Winter Festival, traditionally spent with one's family in their familial home, where winter rationing was ignored for a single day whilst all of Hell awaited the winter solstice, and the return of the sun, just for a moment. A blip of hope in the middle of the bleakest month of the year.
And yet Cobalt stood in a room by himself, far from home, feeling completely hopeless. He gazed at himself in the mirror, frowning as he readjusted his tie. He had been given a bowtie to wear with his white wedding suit, but he refused to wear it, instead preferring his own tie. One final act of defiance, perhaps, before resigning himself to his fate as a mob husband.
At the very least, Izzbelle seemed to have calmed down. When they awoke that morning, she didn't even spit any vitriol at him, or threaten to break his legs if he looked at her at any point. She seemed more relaxed since their talk, like she had finally figured something out for herself. Breakfast was peaceful enough; it was the last he saw of her before they were split up for the wedding preparations. Though he was told that Corris was going to be helping him, nobody had seen the boss' advisor all day, and thus he was attended to by a gaggle of Lorenzo's maidservants.
"Keep your chin up, sir; I need to get your hair right."
"We'll need to adjust this jacket. If you feel a pinch, that's just the needle slipping."
"Have you memorised your vows, sir? Mr. Suyas insists you take some flashcards with you."
It was like that all day. It didn't help that they were all Oni so they each towered above him and had no trouble jostling him about.
Eventually, as the light waned, the maids left him alone in a small dressing room, to await the upcoming ceremony. There he stood, staring at a floor-length mirror as the minutes ticked by.
"By my blood, I take thee as my... w- wife..." he recited, shaking all over.
Despite all the adjustments made by the servants, it still itched. Both it and his shirt had been made in such a way that the electric collar around his neck wasn't visible, though he could still feel the prongs biting into his skin. In one jacket pocket lay a mass of flashcards; vows penned by Lorenzo himself, which he would no doubt be pressured to recite as his own. And in the other...
A small box containing a polished iron ring, to be presented to Izzbelle as she present hers to him. Normally, the engaged couple would attend the forging of the rings themselves, whereupon they would mix their own blood into the molten metal. But without the blood... the ring held no meaning.
"By your blood, I make a pledge of devotion to thee..."
Swallowing hard, Cobalt pocketed the ring box and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"By our blood, we bind ourselves in chains of love, to weather all manners of storms..."
This wasn't a day he ever imagined would come for him. He didn't know what to think.
Cobalt just felt... lost. He could hear the sounds of guests bustling in the great central hall, and yet he felt a thousand miles away.
There was a knock on the door.
"Hello? I- I mean, come in!" he stammered, nearly choking on his own tongue.
The door slid open, revealing none other than Jezebel Trayer, his own mother. She had spared no expense with dressing herself up for the occasion; she looked like she belonged on the red carpet with a lovely black dress and a matching fascinator. As soon as she saw her son, she nearly burst into tears.

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Infernal Academia
FantasyWrath. Greed. Sloth. Hubris. Envy. Gluttony. And Lust. Hell's an interesting place, filled with interesting people. Demons need an education like any other, and the Brimstone Institute of Demonics is the perfect place to pursue their aca...