Chapter Text
On any other day, the Appletini would most likely have tasted good to him, but today the sweet liquid felt bland in his mouth. Like old water left standing for a long time. He tried it a second time and sipped from the fine glass, but then let it sink with a deep sigh. It clinked as he placed the glass back on the counter. The apple piece, which Husk had carefully placed on the rim, slipped from its spot into the liquid and sank.
Lucifer watched the slow descent of the fruit while pulling his hat deeper over his face to prevent himself from nervously running his fingers through his hair and ruining the image of the well-dressed man.
He had to be good, even obedient. Charlie expected the best behavior today. He almost laughed because of that, but the cruel pressure in his chest silenced everything within him.
Sometimes Lucifer tried to remember the time when he still wandered carefree through Heaven and created everything that came to his mind. Had he been just as naive and determined back then?
A question he could no longer answer, for most of his memories of Heaven included himself—pierced by spears of angelic steel, soaked in so much blood that he could not even see his own hands in front of him.
A sight he truly wished on no one. And the feeling…
Immediately, his chest began to hurt. A phantom, for the wounds the machine of that insane television had inflicted on him were long since healed. Where the cables had pierced him, there were only small, isolated scars. Hardly visible, if one did not really look, and Lucifer was glad of that. He did not need more proof that he had failed.
No, he was reminded of that every single day anyway.
Immediately, he turned his head to the side to watch the group of sinners, who hung on his daughter’s every word. She was giving a tour for those who, in the end, still wanted to give salvation a try.
And there were not few of them.
There were so many. The battle had been two months ago now, and every day new sinners checked into the hotel. There were hardly five free spots left, which made his daughter immensely happy. She was busy day and night. Fortunately, there was Vaggi by her side, helping her through the stress and taking over the tedious tasks. Nevertheless, one could see Charlie rushing through the corridors, giving tours and developing plans. One night he had found her asleep at her desk, the idea of a ball spread out in front of her.
A surprise for everyone, she had named it the next day during the hotel staff meeting. An evening full of joy, fun, and relaxation. She wanted to reward those who had persevered and tried to be good until now.
It was to be a ball where everyone dressed up. Music and the scent of flowers would haze the corridors like perfume, while the sinners found friends among each other, danced, and drank. Small, sweet cocktails were to be served, which did not contain too much alcohol.
Lucifer knew parties like these. He had spent centuries organizing exactly these himself, because Lilith had loved them so much. But over time, they had become fewer and fewer, until they disappeared entirely. As it seemed, Charlie wanted to revive the tradition, and Lucifer could not have been prouder of his daughter. She did so much, worked day and night, and remained constantly connected with Heaven. Emily, the small, hyperactive angel, flew through the hotel corridors more often than he did himself.
He was truly happy for her. More than anything else. Yet… it was a lot. Too much, and yet not enough. And Charlie did not let Lucifer help.
Shaking his head, Lucifer pushed the glass away and shrugged. He could feel the sinners’ gazes on his back. Each one of them was staring at him, he knew that. Yet none of them dared to come near him. It was not respect that kept them away from the Devil, but uncertainty. Surprisingly, many sinners had not been able to connect the threads in time when Vox had started his little song, ruining Lucifer’s damn impressive performance. Lucifer would never claim that he considered humans stupid. However, he could not explain their naivety any other way.
He was certain that the Overlords knew their king could do nothing to them. However, there was no one among them stupid enough to use this knowledge against him. Instead, they also kept their distance from him. Only Carmilla Carmine had once dared to enter the hotel to apologize for building that cruel machine. Of course, he had just waved it off and acted as if it were no big deal, but Lucifer was sure that she had not come just for an apology.
Carmilla was the one who made sure her theories were correct. That the Devil was nothing more than a joke. Even if the Overlords did not use this information to their advantage, it hurt to know that he was nothing more than a man.
Surely there were other ways to harm them. Lucifer was certain that the Sins would follow a call without hesitation and eliminate any enemy for him. But he had not spoken to them for a long time, and suddenly asking for a favor?
Lucifer was not that kind of person.
He liked to solve his problems alone, and since he was simply not capable of that at the moment, he lived with them as if they were a second skin. He had always done it that way, and today he bore the consequences of such a stupid behavior. Because he simply could not clear his head and set priorities.
He would probably have to pay Belle a visit.
Soon.
Someday.
Ah, what nonsense. He would not do it.
Charlie finished her tour with a small fireworks display that exploded on the ceiling of the foyer. Colorful sparks flew around, which Niffty caught midair, laughing. Baxter clapped as the maid dramatically bowed. A sweet pair.
Lucifer’s eyes followed his daughter as the group dispersed and she approached her partner Vaggi. Both whispered to each other, a red blush spreading across his daughter’s cheeks.
Okay, he really did not need to know what they were talking about.
Then their hands intertwined, one or two kisses were exchanged, before both of them approached him at the bar.
Damn. He was not ready for this. Not now, when he was trying so hard to pull himself together, not to draw attention, and not to embarrass his child—which he probably did regularly. Just last week, he had stumbled into a conversation between Husk and Cherry, in which exactly that had been discussed.
A shame that no one tried to speak to him personally.
“Hey, Dad!”
“Hey, Applepie. The tour went well, I see?”
“Dad!” Embarrassed, the beautiful red on her cheeks darkened. “You’re not supposed to call me that. At least not here. I’m an authority figure!”
“Babe”, Vaggi smiled. “I think it’s cute.”
“Of course you do, but our guests don’t need to hear that. It’s totally embarrassing! But anyway, Dad? Do you have two minutes for me?”
“For you, always, Appl— Charlie. What can your old man do? Did they tear apart the library again? Or do you need more rooms? I can create something new in no time. My powers are yours.”
Charlie giggled. “All good, none of that. I already put a notice up on the bulletin board, but I know you don’t look at it very often. Anyway, the ball is this Saturday.”
“Then should I spruce up the ballroom? Some caviar? Some champagne?”
“Not… directly. The team will work in groups. There are even a few volunteers, which is suuuper great! No, I wanted to ask you for a teeny-tiny favor!”
“Sure, anything.” Lucifer knew he would regret those words the moment he saw the sparkle in her eyes. It was a mix of joy and fear. Uncertainty she hid behind a forced smile. And when she took a breath, something inside him tightened.
“You know how I often sit together with Emily… Salvation takes time and strength, and many of our guests are skeptical about the whole thing. Even though they’ve seen and heard Pentious, the thought that they might not be able to be redeemed scares them. I can’t go into detail—you know, confidentiality. I take the rules of our therapy sessions very seriously. But it would help if we had a role model. Angel is… temporarily unavailable, and even though I really want him back here at the hotel, he has to want it. It’s useless if he forces himself. But—”
“Babe. You’re rambling.”
“Oh, sorry. So… Dad. We’ve definitely been thinking and it would be reaaaaally beneficial if we set a positive example, and who would be the perfect candidate other than the Devil himself?”
“I am… confused”, Lucifer said uncertainly as he looked back and forth between the angel and his daughter. “What exactly are you asking of me?”
“We need to set an example, and I… Dad, I want to redeem you.”
Vaggi’s gaze clung to him like glue, simultaneously peeling itself toxically through his skin and spreading like a column inside his ‘body. The ringing in his head should have been a warning, but instead of instantly disappearing into a portal and hiding under mountains of ducks, he felt the painfully rapid beating of his heart. Heard the lamentations of all the angels who looked down on him with malice and punishment, ready to pierce the sharp ends of their weapons through his chest again. The cold sweat on his neck felt disgusting, itchy, and the urge to scratch himself everywhere made his fingers twitch. The words were stuck in his throat.
“Dad, that would mean soooo much to me! Heaven is beautiful—you of course know that. But we could also work better on two fronts this way. You get it? And wouldn’t it be fantastic to see the other angels again?”
Would it?
“Babe”, Vaggi stroked her back. “I think you should hold back a little. This is too much.”
“No, I don’t think so”, Charlie contradicted with a smile that would have melted Lucifer’s heart in any other moment. “This is an absolutely magnificent idea! Applause to the thinker, haha. Oh, thank you. Thank you!” She laughed, mimicked bows, and kissed Vaggi’s cheek. The latter suddenly did not look quite as happy anymore.
Vaggi huffed. “I thought you wanted to ask him for a speech. As motivation.”
“I did”, the princess replied. “Dad, that would be an amazing idea, right? You could speak in front of everyone at the celebration and announce that you wish to accompany their fate. To follow their lead. You would give them courage and hope. Just like Mom always did.”
Lucifer saw the shadow on the wall, but did not react. Instead, he felt the scars, the punctures of a weapon that should never have existed. His pulse raced at a speed he did not recognize. And as he looked into the face of his beloved daughter, a single word came to mind. One he had so rarely directed at Charlie that he could not even remember the last time it had happened.
“No.”
Behind them, glass clinked as Husk lifted his gaze and saved the drink he had just mixed. Lucifer felt his eyes on the back of his neck, sensed the air thin as Vaggi drew in a sharp breath. Suddenly, the foyer felt cold, somehow muted. The fire in the fireplace no longer flickered. The guests, who had been straining to talk on the bench, went silent, and the shadow froze mid-movement.
“No”, he repeated more forcefully, as if Charlie had not understood him the first time. “No.”
“Dad, I… I’m surprised. So… please. I’m asking you. This is important to me, and the idea is good! Mum would surely like it too. You both have repeatedly said how little you like the humans down here. Wouldn’t it be wonderful instead to watch them from above?”
She did not feel the cold. Of course not, she never had, and Lucifer wondered if he had made a mistake. Lilith and he had spent many days and nights discussing Charlie’s future. About her safety. And even if the two had rarely agreed, it had been certain that they wanted to protect Charlie from the cruelty of Hell. Especially since Lucifer could not help her in an emergency. That was why they had decided it was probably better to approach things separately. Together in love, separate in action. At least for a certain time. It had made sense—back then.
But today, exactly on this day, Lucifer wished he had put her directly into the horror of Hell. Briefly, but long enough for her to understand how unpleasant something could be.
Perhaps then Charlie would have understood why it was incredibly disrespectful to ask her father, the Devil himself, for redemption.
Before Lucifer could speak again, he caught the tiny sparks in Charlie’s eyes. Tears, gathering and reflecting a disappointment that tore him apart.
“Please, Dad. It would mean everything to me… That’s why we’re here, and what sense would it make to live here and not want to help?”
“Charlie! I think you should stop.” Vaggi’s voice suddenly sounded much farther away. As if she weren’t standing right next to them.
“Dad, please reconsider. You don’t have to make the decision today. There are still five days until Saturday. Plenty of time to figure out what you want.”
“No”, Lucifer said louder this time.
The first tear that brushed Charlie’s cheek broke Lucifer’s heart.
“I thought your perspective would have changed. That you would have changed.” Every word from his daughter felt like a punch to the face. He wanted to roar, to strike. But instead, he stood there petrified. “Maybe it was naive of me to think that you of all people would want to be led by me. Mum would have— for me.”
Everything in his view vanished. He recognized this kind of pain, remembered exactly how his brothers and sisters had looked at him. So full of disappointment. Just like his own daughter was doing now. Charlie wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Sorry, I’m just so emotional right now. Then let’s drop it. It’s okay. But it would be great if you could still write the speech. I can even draft it for you if you have trouble. Then you’d only have to deliver it.”
The shadow moved, and suddenly smoke came from the kitchen. Charlie gasped in alarm as all her attention shifted to the commotion. “Damn! I think Stan tried to cook! Not again!”
She hurried off but turned back once to Lucifer and waved at him with a smile. Vaggi paused for a moment before following, muttering an apology that Lucifer did not hear.
Lucifer felt it. Of course he did, even if some sinners claimed otherwise. Surely, his name was associated with all sorts of terror, but that did not change the fact that he felt.
Felt so much.
Incredibly much.
“Lucifer, are you okay?”, he heard Husk ask unusually cautiously.
“No”, he admitted openly, as if he no longer knew any other word.
With a twitch of his finger, a portal opened, and he stepped through it to flee his personal hell. He heard Husk’s voice again — muffled and distant, as though through water — but the portal closed behind him and swallowed the last remnants of sound.
Lucifer stumbled into the darkness of his private room — a chamber he had far too often called a “resting room,” even though he had never once found rest there. The door slammed shut behind him with a violent crack. For a heartbeat, he simply stood there, frozen mid‑motion like someone had stopped time around him.
Then his lungs collapsed inward.
A single breath, too fast, too sharp — and suddenly there was no air left.
Nothing. Only tightness. Only pressure.
His fingers clawed at the knot of his bow tie, uselessly gripping as if that piece of fabric were responsible for all his torment. Maybe it was. Maybe everything was. Everything all at once.
With a frantic jerk, he tore it from his neck — the fabric hit the ground with the weight of something far heavier. He gasped, but the air didn’t return. If anything, it burned — hot and cold at the same time.
He grabbed his throat, the skin beneath his fingers hot and damp.
Too tight. Far too tight.
“No… no, no…” It barely qualified as a whisper — a helpless attempt at refusal.
Not again. Please, not again.
His heart hammered against his ribs, an unnatural, distorted pounding that didn’t sound like a heartbeat at all, but like a scream caught somewhere deep inside him. His knees buckled as he staggered back against the wall, sliding down its surface until he hit the floor.
The room curled around him, the air vibrating as if the sky were splitting open above him all over again.
He saw the white gleam of the spears. Heard the shrill voices. Felt the faint winds of beating wings. Felt the weight — the expectation, the disappointment, the judgment.
Lucifer felt himself falling.
“Mum would have done it — for me.”
The sentence speared straight through his chest.
Lucifer pressed his hands over his face, but it didn’t help. The darkness he tried to create with that gesture didn’t swallow the images — it amplified them. Every memory of machines, of cables, of the feeling of being at someone’s mercy wrapped itself around his body like a cold net.
His breathing stumbled over itself. Gasping, ragged, painful.
“Stop…” He pulled his legs to his chest, curling in on himself like a wounded animal. “Please… stop…”
The words weren’t meant for anyone in particular.
Maybe for the pain.
Maybe for the memories.
Maybe for himself.
Or maybe they were a last, desperate attempt to silence his daughter’s voice echoing over and over again inside his skull.
Maybe it was naïve of me to think that you, of all people, would let yourself be guided by me.
He buried his face in his hands.
He could have endured the machine again, Heaven again, the Overlords — all of it. But not Charlie’s disappointment. Not after everything that had happened.
His chest tightened once more, this time even harder, as though the invisible band wrapped around his ribcage wanted to tear him apart for good. His fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, as if anchoring the pain somewhere could make it hurt less.
A broken, hoarse sound escaped his throat — half sob, half breath.
“I can’t… I can’t…”
The words fell apart, swallowed by the stillness of the room, which wrapped around him like armor.
A knock yanked him out of the dark spiral his mind had twisted into. The sheer panic, the tightness in his chest, recoiled as if someone had slammed a door in its face. Lucifer heard the knock a second time as he rose on trembling legs. Slowly, he walked to the door and opened it without granting the action a single conscious thought.
Standing before him was Alastor, leaning on his microphone with a wide grin.
“My, my! What a sight! Is His Majesty resorting to… new forms of expression today? Are You wearing a new scent? Despair suits You exquisitely.”
A quiet sigh escaped Lucifer.
“What do you want?”
“Our dear Charlie sent me. Apparently, your lack of presence reminded her of her childhood, as you were absent during dinner.”
Dinner? Lucifer turned toward the window and saw how the red of the sky had shifted into darkness. How long had he been sitting in this room?
“Oh, sir, did we lose track of time again? Must be all those… wonderful squeaking creatures taking up your leisure hours. It must truly be lovely to bear absolutely no responsibility.”
Normally, Lucifer would have argued. If only for the phrase ‘our daughter’. And although he liked arguing with Alastor — he would never admit that — he simply stared at the demon with a blank expression.
“Tell her I’m sorry.”
“Oh, surely you can do that yourself. Your eyes are very small due to your tiny stature, but I am certain you can still perceive that I am not, in fact, a carrier pigeon.”
“Alastor”, Lucifer said softly but firmly. “Thank you for conveying her concern to me.”
Lucifer didn’t miss the stunned expression that overtook the other’s face for the briefest of moments. He also saw the twitch of the torn ear and the clenching of the red claws, but he didn’t mention any of it. Instead, he offered Alastor a sorrowful smile. A poor attempt to keep his own mask in place.
“I’ll speak with Charlie tomorrow, thank you. Have a good night, Alastor.”
With that, he closed the door, and the smile fell away. Instead, he sank down against the door, just as he had hours ago, and buried his face in his hands. A quiet, awful sob escaped him as the pain clawed its way back to the surface. Hot, stubborn tears streamed down his cheeks as his mind dragged him back into the machine.
He didn’t want to think about it, just as he hadn’t wanted to for the past two months.
But the memory forced its way up and broke him all over again.
Gasping and struggling for air, Lucifer hung trapped inside the glass sphere. He could hear her singing. Charlie’s sweet voice echoed in his mind, and although he knew he could not die from this, it kept him alive. Over and over, he tried to free his arms and legs from the restraints, but he could not.
At first, it had been funny. To see a sinner with the audacity and arrogance to have captured the Devil himself. But once the first bad tickling set in, he just wanted to get away. And Lucifer had tried. He had focused his powers, even attempted to transform. Yet every time he tried, he met resistance. The strength he could muster was directly siphoned off by the cables and channeled into the machine.
He didn’t know what this thing was doing to him. But even he understood that it could be nothing good. Not that he feared the extent of it. He simply didn’t care if those damned Overlords killed each other. But when he heard Charlie nearby, his blood froze. Whatever he was trapped in — it was a threat to his daughter.
Every attempt to escape failed. In the end, he hung like a puppet on a string, utterly breathless and exhausted from the malicious tickling. It drained him of his angelic power. One might think he had enough of it, as God’s favorite. Fuck, he could surely have supplied multiple worlds with his energy, yet for some reason, his power did not regenerate. At least, not enough for him to take action. That the machine was made of angelic steel did not make the situation any better.
Weakened, Lucifer closed his eyes, but he refused to give up. Vaggi knew he was down here. She would find a way, and if not, he would have to find another alternative.
As always.
A heart-wrenching scream tore from him as energy was drained from his body again. It came so suddenly and without warning that his wings popped open and struck the glass. One of them broke.
Lucifer sobbed in pain as more of his golden blood dripped to the ground. Old memories shot through his mind.
He, bound by holy bands, circling like a beast in the midst of the heavenly tribunal. His brothers and sisters stared at him silently as Sera raised her hand and pronounced the judgment. Lilith’s screams were almost unbearable, searing themselves into his mind like burns.
The singing suddenly stopped, and cheering erupted.
Lucifer weakly looked toward the exit, which was closed again, as if expecting someone to reach out a hand and save him.
But no one came.
Not even as the voices grew quieter and then louder again. He heard the snake speak, heard sinners laughing and talking. Listened to the sounds of the reporters, making videos and taking photos from above.
But no one came for him.
Lucifer didn’t know how long he had been trapped down there. But he remembered that at some point, he retracted his broken wing — sobbing — and suddenly his limbs felt lighter. He slid to the ground as the machine released its grip and the glass sphere shattered.
Lucifer didn’t know who had helped him, or if the machine had simply given up in the end, but he fought his way out. Exhausted and blood-soaked, he emerged to the surface, where he found his daughter laughing in the arms of an angel and her friend. She saw him, detached herself from the women, and finally pointed to a huge screen, which now displayed nothing.
“Sir Pentious is in Heaven, Dad, and everyone saw it!”
Lucifer forced a smile as he leaned inconspicuously against some debris, worried he might lose his balance. His mind spun, his vision turned white. Yet something invisible supported him. It felt as if someone wrapped their arms around him. Holding him. Carefully, yet firmly.
Grateful, he leaned into the presence and offered his daughter another smile. “That’s wonderful, Char-Char.”
__
Alastor froze in place, confused by what he had just witnessed. He could hear him — the agonizing sobs, the sniffles from his tear-streaked nose. He even recognized the shadow the little man cast through the tiny gap behind the door. He looked down at his shadow, circling at his feet, eyes fixed steadily on the door.
Then he grabbed at his chest, where his cold heart beat, and felt the painful pressure hidden beneath. His shadow whimpered as it finally sought Alastor’s gaze, but he could not face it.
Not when his amusement had turned into a heap of misery.
Alastor knew he should return to his room and enjoy his evening glass of rye, yet instead he leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes.
The king’s sobbing grew louder and louder.