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Nearly a year had passed.
A year of pain, a year of grief, a year of healing. Lucifer had grown in all that time. In the midst of his grief, he had opened his mind and heart to love. Not a love based on transactions or conditions, but born of selflessness and a desire for both parties to thrive. Alastor had taught him this. The sinner was his rock, his strength and Lucifer was his, in return. They had, on the ashes of their past lives, built something entirely new together.
It was obvious to anyone who had witnessed the battle between Vox and Alastor that the Radio Demon and the King were romantically entwined, and so, they had officially gone public. It was the first time since his divorce with Lilith that Lucifer was seeing anyone seriously. There had been the odd fling here and there, the occasional fuck buddy or one night stand to quell the loneliness, but this was clearly different. The two men were partners in every sense of the word.
As seemed to be tradition for them, after living together, sleeping together, and proclaiming their love and desire for one another, the pair finally had their first real date. Roughly six months after Violet's passing, Alastor had surprised Lucifer with a reservation at Dante's Inferno, the most high-end, exclusive restaurant in Pride; perhaps to prove to the King that he could, in fact, provide for him and their planned future offspring, despite not needing to. However, when it became apparent that the atmosphere and, more specifically, the clientele of said restaurant made the angel uncomfortable, Alastor quickly altered course and they ended up at a little hole-in-the-wall jazz bar just outside the Entertainment District. The two had a blast drinking, singing, and dancing the night away.
Video recordings of their date went viral, spreading across Hell and endearing both sinner and hellborn alike to their goofy little King. Since the tragedy, Lucifer's popularity had been slowly climbing, the majority of Hell's denizens empathizing with his pain and loss. After all, who in Hell didn't understand that feeling? Still, he could sense trouble brewing just beneath the surface. There were those who saw his intense emotional display as weakness. What's more, the King had yet to punish Vox for his transgressions, instead choosing to focus on his own mental health and that of his partner as they grieved the loss of their daughter. This had, he decided, been the right call. However, the longer he waited, the more weak and lenient he appeared, regardless of the truth of the situation. And so, he announced the trial was to be held on the one year anniversary of Violet's death.
X
It was the trial of the millennium. The lower levels of the courtroom were packed to the brim with curious demons who'd been lucky enough to snag a spot. Everyone else was forced to watch the trial via television or livestream. Bee and Ozzie insisted it be broadcast across every Ring to ensure Vox's very public humiliation. On the top levels, above the commoners, stood the Hazbins, as well as the Goetia, most of whom were there simply out of a sense of obligation or decorum. Some, however, such as King Paimon and a red parrot fellow Lucifer did not recognize, seemed genuinely invested in the proceedings.
In the center of the courtroom, on a large seat in front of the prisoner and his cohorts, sat Satan. For once, the man did not seem bored, sitting up straight and glaring daggers at the accused. Above him sat his fellow Sins, all doing the same, and above them all, upon his throne, sat Lucifer. He stared down at the man who had so hurt him, a mixture of fear and anger swirling in his chest. Beside him, to his right, stood Alastor, still as a statue. The sinner’s own glowing red eyes were locked on Vox, muscles tense and ready to strike at a moment's notice. Though he now had a unit of trained guards nearby each time he left the hotel, headed by Beelzebub's own partner, Vortex, it was Alastor's presence that put Lucifer at ease. His partner would not allow Vox anywhere near him without grave consequences. He was safe.
Satan called for order and the trial began. “Vincent Whittman, you stand accused of crimes against the Crown which read as follows: Kidnapping, torture, and rape of our ruler, King Lucifer, attempted harm against Princess Charlie, heir to the Throne, and the murder of Princess Violet, second daughter of Lucifer, King of Hell. How do you plead?”
Vox squirmed in his chains, smile nervous as he replied, “Your Honor! This is all just-” He chuckled. “Just a big…misunderstanding!”
Screens flashed to life throughout the courtroom, playing recordings of the man's vial actions. Many were taken by those who witnessed his second attack, but some played security footage from inside V Tower, video evidence of Vox raping Lucifer, plain as day. Those in attendance gasped as they bore witness to his crimes.
Beside him, Alastor tensed. The shadows surrounding them darkened and swayed, and a low growl escaped through sharp, clenched teeth. Lucifer reached out. Taking his partner's hand, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Barely a moment later, he froze as his eyes landed on a screen displaying footage of himself, covered in his own angelic blood and clutching his dead baby girl to his chest. He wanted to look away, he wanted to run, but Lucifer forced himself to stay and watch, to remind himself why he was there. Alastor clutched his hand tight as the King began to tremble.
“What? That? That footage isn't real! It's AI! You can't trust anything you see these days,” Vox insisted with a solemn shake of his head.
Satan's eyes narrowed. “I call to the stand Baxter Montgomery, former Voxtek employee and current resident of the Hazbin Hotel.”
A stone platform floated over to the fish sinner, who mounted it with calculated grace. He stood with his back straight and arms folded behind his back, the picture of poise and calm, as the platform brought him closer to the judge.
“Sinner,” Satan addressed him, “what position did you hold while working for Voxtek?”
“I was head of the bioengineering department,” Baxter stated matter-of-factly. “I also helped design and build their entire security system, as well as the servers responsible for all of Voxtek's broadcasts.”
“And in your expert opinion,” the Sin of Wrath asked, “are these videos doctored?”
“I have thoroughly examined all video evidence presented here today, and aside from the censoring of both men's genitals, not one of them display evidence of tampering. What you see before you are the events as they actually happened.” The man grimaced as his eye caught on one of the screens; footage from Vox's private bedroom. The lure on his head twitched uneasily.
Satan nodded, dismissing him.
Baxter bowed respectfully as the platform moved him back to his spot beside his friends.
“I see no need for further witnesses. The evidence speaks for itself.”
“What?!” Vox shouted, hiding fear with outrage. “How the fuck is that fair?!”
The glares of The Seven silenced him.
“Fair?” Satan asked. “Was it fair to subdue the King with angelic bindings, leaving him with no means of escape? Was it fair to force yourself upon him, against his will? Was it fair to attack him while encumbered by his pregnancy, which you caused, or send your goons after the Princess and her friends as they attempted to guard the King? Fairness,” he snarled, razor sharp fangs on full display, “would not allow for the murder of an innocent child, nor the suffering said child's death caused.”
“We're in Hell!” Vox countered. Before he could spew further arguments, Satan's grin turned devious, causing the sinner to quake in his boots.
“Yes,” the Sin agreed. “And you are a sinner, one of the damned, sent here for eternal punishment. You shall receive yours now.” Satan turned towards the seats behind him, his gaze now on his King. “Your Majesty,” he said, yielding to the angel's authority.
Lucifer released his partner's hand and stood, fists clenched to prevent them from shaking. His heart pounded in his chest as he stated clearly for the court and all of Hell to hear, “Vincent Whittman, you have been found guilty of all accused crimes. You and your associates, Valentino Estrella and Velvet Taylor, shall be stripped of your titles, power, and properties. Said properties and all possessions therein will hereby be distributed amongst myself and my fellow Sins.”
“What?!” both Valentino and Velvette shrieked from their spots behind Vox.
“You can't do that!” Vox claimed, teeth bared.
“Oh, I think you'll find I can,” Lucifer countered. “You see, I'm the motherfucking King of Hell,” he growled, hellfire blazing brilliantly between the fallen angel's two massive horns. His long black tail lashed in anger and his lip curled in disgust at his abuser. “Be grateful I didn't take your lives.” From the murmuring amongst the audience, he could tell they were surprised by the turn of events, clearly expecting the King to bestow a far worse punishment. “I am not a violent being,” he explained to the room at large, “despite what you may have heard. My partner, on the other hand…” Lucifer grinned as he turned to look at Alastor, who was chomping at the bit, eager for a taste of blood. “Well, he's another matter entirely. As are my friends, I'm afraid.” Lucifer watched Vox stiffen as the eyes of the Radio Demon and the other Deadly Sins trapped him in their gaze. “Don't kill him,” he ordered. “Other than that, have at it.”
Several large shadows fell over the sinner. Vox muttered excuses as the beasts crept closer, trying to save his skin. Before long, his excuses turned to pleas and his pleas to screams as crimson blood splattered across the floor, dripping down into the cavernous abyss below.
Lucifer stood, watching, his gut churning at the sounds of carnage and suffering. Though he hated it, a part of him reveled in seeing this monster get what was coming to him. The King's eyes burned as tears poured down his cheeks.
He did not look away.
X
Hours later, Lucifer lay in bed, staring into the depths of the bayou and the pretty fireflies flittering throughout. He felt numb, the relief and satisfaction he'd felt during the trial gone, leaving nothing behind. He knew what was missing, or more specifically, who. Had she lived, Violet would have been one today. She would have woken up to her parents smiling down at her, spent the day surrounded by family, maybe even tried her first bite of cake. Instead, she was gone, without even her remains to grieve over. His sweet baby girl was but a memory; a dream. One that had been crushed. A feeling pierced through the numbness. Pain. The pain of loss. Lucifer curled into himself and cried.
Moments later, strong arms encased him, pulling him against a familiar sturdy chest. Alastor. Lucifer buried his face in the sinner's clothes, taking in the scent of his partner, the man who had stayed by his side through it all. The man he loved.
“All is not lost,” a voice whispered, deep within him.
Lucifer sighed, his tense muscles relaxing. ‘All is not lost,’ his mind repeated and he knew these words to be true. All was not lost. He was alive. He had his daughter, his new family, and Alastor.
His new life had already begun.
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