Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once a month, one of the Seven Deadly Sins are required to show or tell Lord Diavolo about something that they have recently found. On the outside, it looks like a surveillance or performance test. To the members of the Student Council, it's a two hour babysitting session. Rather, an entertainment session is a closer description. Diavolo is constantly brimming with new ideas to enact at any given moment, and keeping him amused with potentially harmless ones gives his advisors more peace at night. Of course, most things relatively harmless are large-scale when enacted by the soon to be absolute monarch of the Devildom. 

This week is Satan's turn (he never needs to be reminded). As he walks beside Barbatos to where the prince is, he wonders if he chose the best topic to discuss over tea with Diavolo. It is an entirely foreign concept to the Devildom, but he did make sure to follow the unspoken Lucifer and Barbatos guidelines of “don't give him weird thoughts.” 

“I am most curious what you have come up with this time, considering how busy RAD has been,” Barbatos breaks the silence with a subtle request.

“I'm not sure it will be of much relevant value, but it's an entirely human concept, which Lord Diavolo will no doubt find amusing,” Satan smirks. 

Knowing the avatar of wrath will not share any information he does not wish to willingly and seeing that they are at the threshold of the tea room, Barbatos drops it. He will learn soon enough.

He is surprised to find his lord already in the room, for Barbatos usually retrieves the young master from his office for these meetings. Meaning… he left his duties earlier than planned again.

The butler withholds a patient sigh and bows.

“My lord, I was not expecting you here so soon. I shall summon the refreshments immediately. If you will excuse me.”

The butler's hair and coattails swish quietly as he leaves, giving the illusion of him simply floating away. He is known for being incredibly quick in his grace. Satan takes his seat across from Diavolo and graces him with a cordial smile. Lord Diavolo beams back and begins chatting happily about his day, though the entire string of events is incredibly dull. He must give the prince credit for being able to bring excitement to the monotonous. 

Barbatos returns with a beautiful display of tea snacks and sets the table with such speed that Satan is too surprised to attempt to track the movements. He remembers that the butler had mentioned Diavolo’s recent craving for sweets in a conversation with Lucifer, and the spread is surely befitting of a prince’s sugar craving. Various fruit tartlets, decorated cookies, and divers scones line the trays. Satan is familiar with about half of them. The other half vaguely reminds him of descriptions he has read in books on the subject of snacks. One tartlet in particular resembles a human world food made with a fruit that has a similar name as blood raspberries, though not the same appearance or taste. He notices as the tea is poured that Barbatos seems to have already memorized his preference in sweetener, for he does not ask Satan as usual yet does not make a single error in measuring.

“You really do take pride in your work,” Satan notes, nodding at the frosting obviously hand-done by the butler.

Barbatos smiles more genuinely than usual at the compliment, “Why thank you, Satan. I do.”

Barbatos takes his place beside Diavolo once more, and Satan knows that is the silent indication for him to prepare to speak.

“I must say, I'm greatly interested in what you have to share, Satan. The book you brought with you for reference appears to be written in a human tongue.” 

Diavolo fixes him with his signature stare. Satan still feels uneasy when given so much of his attention, even though half a dozen of these meetings have passed already. The power behind those eyes could unnerve Lucifer.

“It is a book from the human world, Lord Diavolo. It contains the different uses humans have found for animals,” he mutters a spell to levitate the text and keep it away from the food, “While most of these are things the Devildom has some practical form of, there is a concept of using creatures for assistance in everyday living and for mental health.”

Diavolo cocks a curious brow, “It sounds similar to a familiar.”

Satan raises his hand to his chest and explains further. He already considered that Diavolo would say that or similar.

“Familiars require magic. It takes years of learning to master the spells to even summon one, much less know the proper way to check for affinities and deepen the bonds. Non-magic humans train their creatures for one to two years to perform tasks depending on factors such as temperament and personality.”

The prince's eyes sparkle, “Only a mere two years?”

“Maximum of two years. Dogs trained for combat and drug or bomb detection take less than a year,” he flips a page, “but civilians are able to obtain dogs for assistance as well.”

THAT gets Diavolo's attention. Barbatos notices how he perks up and gives more than his mandatory prince-required-attention-to-scheduled-conversation. The illustrations in the book show dogs performing various tasks and summaries of what the training includes. A few pages later, a non-canine creature pops up. 

Curious.

“A cat? They use other species as well?”

Diavolo notices too. Satan begins a spiel on the comfort cats can bring before a motion from Barbatos reminds him of what he is here for. Quickly righting himself, he speaks in more general terms.

“The cat shown here as well as the other animals are not trained for military or police usage. They are under the category of ‘emotional support animals’,” he flips a few pages to a page with a list of benefits for these creatures, “Some people appear to use animals to help regulate and stabilize their emotions. The therapy pets can also help with loneliness and certain fears.”

Satan moves onto service animals that are companions to disabled people, but Barbatos can tell Diavolo is still fixed on the therapy animal concept.

It seems this session has been successful.

The butler mentally prepares for his lord to take interest in moving one of the various creatures he owns into the palace, but there is no discussion of such even after Satan leaves. The day continues normally after Diavolo receives what could be considered a light scolding for leaving his work early and making Lucifer take care of extra hours worth of sorting. Nobody can truly scold the absolute monarch.

•••

The next week shows itself to be peaceful. Breakfast feels extra special. The trip to RAD goes without a hitch. Mammon shows up early more than once due to Lucifer's interference. The rest of the student body appears to be in relatively high spirits. Diavolo takes pride in the establishment and use of the academy. While he does not have time to attend classes conventionally, he still feels glad from the achievements of fellow students.

“Lord Diavolo,” Lucifer bows quickly before facing him once more, “I trust you have not forgotten our mutual outing we planned for this evening?”

The prince nods, “The Fall at seven this evening, correct?” 

Lucifer smiles in affirmation, “I am glad you remembered.”

“My schedule is particularly free today. I attended extra work yesterday to make up for my distractions.”

Lucifer laughs pleasantly. Diavolo thinks to himself that it is the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. Lucifer’s eyes crinkle just slightly at the edges and measured breaths of air leave his mouth in a deep chuckle. It is not the uncontrolled laughter of amusement, but there is something he finds so alluring in any sound the demon before him makes. Only a short gust of fond air yet it makes Diavolo want him all the more.

“Would you like to accompany me for lunch as well then? I know a few weeks back that you expressed wishes to try eating at the common grounds as some students do.”

Diavolo accepts immediately. Lucifer does not realize until later that he offered the date before checking his own lunchtime bookings. It does not bother him, but he does consider he will be lacking in checking his brothers for their return home by curfew. It is not uncommon for him to be home late when he has plans with Diavolo. Still, he texts a contingency just in case.

(...opening chat)

Big Brothers(3)

Lucifer: As I told you two last week, I will be having dinner with Diavolo.

Lucifer: But I will be back later than expected.

Lucifer: Make sure your brothers are all where they're supposed to be by the time I arrive home.

Levi: I'm only coming out of my room for dinner.

Levi: But I can do your usual round after I finish steaming season thirteen of “Musical Girls Rock the World: How I Became an Elite Manager of an Interdimensional Idol Group Without a Degree!” 

Lucifer: Mammon?

Mammon: Yeah yeah, I'll look after our brothers.

Mammon: Enjoy smooching with Lord Diavolo.

Lucifer:

Lucifer: I think I have let you run your mouth too much as of late. 

Lucifer: Cerberus is due for a bath.

Mammon:

Mammon: That was a typo!

Mammon: meant to say “enjoy your time with Lord Diavolo”

Mammon: Stupid autocorrect 

Leviathan: LMFAO 

(closing chat…)

Lucifer slips his DDD into his pocket and returns to his duties. By the time lunch break arrives, he feels oddly energetic. 

I wonder if I made a mistake in brewing my Red Coffee… impossible. Today must just be a good day.

Even if he hopes for a day with less worries, his suspicions that something is off bugs him still. He masks the worry when he meets Diavolo near the school cafeteria. The prince talks a mile a minute the moment he spots Lucifer.

“Oh Lucifer, great to see you! I was wondering if outside would be more appropriate as to not make the students in the cafeteria uncomfortable. If you remember last time…” 

When the lines parted like water so quickly when you arrived that multiple students crashed into each other and an explosion went off? That troublemaker that openly stated the problem once he thought you could not hear was taken care of.

“...but I'm sure it can be prevented. I'm always glad to try something new! I was hoping you had in mind an area that is pleasant enough without full isolation. I love to see my citizens enjoying campus life.”

Lucifer replies, “The alcove-like partition near the building’s west side can conceal the people inside completely from view while allowing them to view the grounds.”

Diabolo beams, “I never knew. How ever did you find out?”

Mammon hid his stolen stashes there once.

“My dear younger brother enlightened me as to its whereabouts and uses.”

Diavolo mistakes the smile and tone Lucifer uses for brotherly fondness rather than sarcasm. In a rare show of public affection, Lucifer’s hand brushes against Diavolo's–

“Lord Diavolo!”

He withdraws. A demon is running towards them with great speed. Lucifer makes a noise of annoyance in the back of his throat, but the expression on the demon's face stops him from hindering their approach. This demon was not one who attended RAD. He recognizes their dress for one tasked in observing borders and studying humans. Diavolo had formed the small unit a few years before the failure of the exchange program 

“Your majesty, one of demon lords, he–”

The demon pauses. Their eyes widen in fear at the sight of who is beside Lord Diavolo. Lucifer realizes he must be glaring and scaring the lesser demon half to death. He does feel irritated.

“Ah, Lord Lucifer– Er, your majesty– Uhm–”

Lucifer withholds the urge to rush the demon before him into saying whatever it is one of his infernal brothers did so badly that it needed to be reported immediately to Diavolo.

“L- l- lord Belphe- Belphegor is in- in the human world.”

A cold sort of fear washes over Lucifer, but he does not let it show. The youngest is known for his despise of humans and hates to be anywhere near one, only suffering Solomon on the rare visit he has and never engaging with any witches. Why would he be in the human realm?

“A- a- a- and he's gone on rampage.”

Another drop to add to the pit in Lucifer's stomach. His eyes flicker over to see how Diabolo is taking the news and notices immediately the forcedness of his smile. They begin walking in the direction of the palace with the lesser demon trailing, stuttering out details. Diavolo sends a quick text to Barbatos; but knowing the butler, he already is preparing a portal as they speak.

“How did he manage to get to the human world when he has been at school all day?”

The last words are directed slightly at Lucifer who speaks up, “He was sleeping in his classes as usual as of this morning.”

“W- w- well, we're- we're no- not sure really. But the causalities–”

Lucifer almost picks the stuttering demon up and shakes him. Why didn't he mention that first!

“How bad?”

“O- over ten thousand.”

Diavolo speaks to Lucifer without looking at him, “I think you might want to check on your other brothers.”

There are many unspoken that Lucifer immediately understands. He bows and departs from Diavolo's side.

Chapter Text

Beelzebub has been anxious all morning. He has no idea why. The anxiety neither stifled his appetite enough for others to notice nor changed his demeanor, but it gnaws at him worse than his eternal hunger. Of course, Belphie notices. He always does.

“Hey, Beel,” he snaps his twin out of his daze as he is being carried to school, “I can feel your worries, you know? Do you need to talk about something?”

Beel does not pause his steps but ponders if he can explain just what it is that makes this feeling. It is small yet feels to stretch over his entire being. Beelzebub is not a demon who knows prophecy or fortune telling intimately, but he knows the feeling is one of the gut. So, he says as much.

“I just feel like something bad might happen soon. I don't like it,” his words come out rougher than he intended, but Belphie understands.

“I'll keep a lookout with you then.”

He pats the orange hair from his position on Beelzebub's back. The action relaxes the taller twin slightly but only by a bit. He still feels tense. Belphegor sighs but does not comment further. 

The school day is ridiculously smooth, further causing Beelzebub anxiety. Belphie was gently deposited in the seat of his first class, and Beel moved to his own studies. He could not find himself remembering anything said around him or have quite the focus he is usually able to demonstrate. The avatar of gluttony isn’t known for exceptional grades, but he does well enough focusing to never cause Lucifer to need to speak to him on it. 

It could just be an off day; I suppose.

He keeps telling himself the same thing every time he catches his mind already drifting away from studies, trying to console himself from this eerie foreboding hanging over him like a hex. Beelzebub feels like a live wire, waiting for something to touch it carelessly or even with means to repair just to be shocked by the energy being conducted unaware. 

No doubt, he would bottle it up and keep it quiet until he could figure it as usual if he could, but the straw that breaks the camel’s back occurs faster in the day than he expects. What sends him over the edge is when the period before lunch begins and Belphegor disappears. He doesn’t see him disappear, but he feels his connections grow infinitely distant in less than a second. The only time he has experienced such a sensation is when a literal realm divides him and his twin. The last time it happened so suddenly is when they fell-

Beel shakes his head, hoping to rid himself of the unpleasant memories. Who could he talk to that could do something about this and hopefully solve the problem without too much trouble? Only one of his brothers comes to mind, making him smile despite his distress. Yes, he would help him.

•••

Satan wants a quiet lunch, but nothing is ever peaceful with his family. It is Beel this time that bugs him throughout lunch and, when told to let him eat in peace, sadly stares at him until he finishes. It is unnerving. Belphie usually soothes Beel's sadness, and he is the demon of the red head's worries. The avatar of wrath listens to the explanation carefully but cannot help but sigh him off. 

“Satan, can you just check for me? I know you said you've read a good amount of texts on tracking magic, and I really don't want to disturb Lord Diavolo and Lucifer’s date in case it's just nerves,” Beel pleads in the odd way he does, eyes widened without meaning and a stare that cuts into even a dead conscience.

Satan cocks an eyebrow at the amount of emotion he shows. It is unlike Beel to be so undone. On the very rare chance Belphegor made it to the human world, it would be an emergency, but the security put in place to prevent such a thing was designed by Lucifer and Barbatos’ careful hands. He hates to give the eldest praise, but his dedication to Diavolo makes his work flawless unless in an extremely straining situation.

The avatar of wrath finally gives in, “I need a piece of his clothing or something he carries around enough to be able to activate the spell.”

Asmodeus, who is by chance passing by the room, peeks his head in, earrings jangling.

“Ooooh, you're doing a personal connection spell? Whomever for? Is it perchance a secret lov-”

A pencil is thrown with amazing precision, but Asmo dodges it with ease. He scoffs mockingly before curling his expression to a pout. One does not stay looking amazing on a constant basis by having slow reflexes to a potential beauty disaster. 

“Satan! Don't be so mean to your darling younger brother, I was only curious~”

“Have you seen Belphie, Asmo?” Beel asks suddenly. 

Asmo looks thoughtful for a second before shaking his head, “Not since our shared class this morning. He was asleep as usual,” he pauses to take note of his hair quickly (as if simply dodging a pencil could ruin curls) before snapping down the mirror and giving his full attention to Beelzebub again, “But can't you just use your twin telepathy to locate him?”

“I can't feel him the same way; it's like-” 

They are interrupted again by a band of wolf demons being thrown in their general direction by an aflame wrath demon. He almost proceeds forward before seeing the gathering of avatars. His flames flicker hesitantly, still burning with rage but sane enough to want to keep his life. One growl from Satan, and the creature beats it with an angry huff. The wolfish demons scatter the moment the coast is clear. Satan flicks the door shut with magic the moment they move and sighs, turning his attention back to his spell book.

“Belphegor isn't in the Devildom, Asmo. I just know it, even if I can't explain this feeling.” 

A ding from Asmodeus’ phone distracts him from the conversation. Beel looks over at Satan and decides not to bother him. 

“I'll have the spell ready by dinner, Beel. We can't skip class to find Belphie. I'm sure if he's in any danger he can fend for himself.”

Beel looks unsatisfied but nods and leaves the room. A few seconds later, Satan also gets a text. 

(...opening chat)

The House of Lamentation(6)

Lucifer: I need everyone in the student council room.

Lucifer: Immediately.

Mammon: I didn't do it this time!

Levi: He never said any of us was in trouble, Mammon.

Levi: But if there's anything you want to admit to, feel free to do it ahead of time and save us the trouble.

Mammon: I didn't do jack!

Mammon: I even attended all my classes on time today.

Mammon: Take that, Levi.

Levi: I'm just saying, your scumminess will always come to light. 

Mammon: What would you know?

Lucifer: Enough.

Asmo: Will this be quick? 

Asmo: I have a lunch date, and we didn't schedule any student council meetings for today.

Asmo: You wouldn't deprived your darling brother of his social life, would you?

Lucifer: This is serious, Asmodeus. Your date can be rescheduled.

Levi:

Levi: He's pulling out full names…

Satan: I'm on my way.

Mammon: How soon is “immediately”?

Lucifer: Faster than you can make an excuse for taking your credit card back again.

Mammon:

[Mammon has gone offline.]

Levi: LMAO That scumbag really thought Lucifer wouldn't notice.

Satan: Out of curiosity, are we in this archived chat because Belphegor is not essential to this meeting?

Asmo: Now that you mention it, why's Belphie being excused?

Asmo: Beel was worrying about him being gone earlier. Does this mean he actually is off of school property?

Lucifer: Beel asked what?

Lucifer: When did he start inquiring?

(closing chat…)

Satan tucks his phone into his back pocket before entering the student council room. The first thing he notices is that Mammon is eyeing the windows like he wants to jump out of them. The second thing is Leviathan’s anxious gaming that he looks up from every few minutes. Lucifer looks more stressed than usual, a bit of sadness tinging his eyes; which of course Satan would know what that expression looks like because of their shared past. And he hates that he is the only one who notices. 

A few minutes pass. It seems Beelzebub has not checked his phone at all. There is no sight of him. Lucifer is stewing but finally shakes his annoyance off and gets down to business.

“Belphegor has gone on a rampage.”

Asmo rolls his eyes and continues whatever photo editing he was working at before. Mammon relaxes, thinking his sins will not be mentioned for now. Levi cocks an eyebrow and continues gaming. Avatars losing their shit on citizens isn't something new.

“In the human world.”

Levi drops his console. Asmodeus accidentally snaps a picture of his face stretched in horror. Mammon noticeably pales. 

“When did this happen?” Satan questions, the thing he thought unlikely earlier today now showing itself as a reality.

Lucifer narrows his eyes, “I'm unsure. Do you know anything concerning this?”

Satan prickles at the almost unsaid accusation.

“Beel came to me during lunch and asked if I had seen Belphie. I had no inclination anything was off before then-”

Beelzebub bursts into the room with his phone in hand. It looks like he ran the entire way here. 

“I'm sorry I missed the texts. I was looking for Belphie,” he pants out.

“Beel, what were you telling Satan earlier concerning Belphegor’s state of being?” Lucifer’s voice drops to deadly levels of severity. 

Beel notices the intensity but cannot help voicing his concern for his twin regardless, “I don't think he's in the Devildom anymore; I can't sense him like we're in the same realm. He's so…distant. His number says it's out of service when I call and–”

Mammon looks down worriedly. Asmo suddenly busies himself with his phone. Satan gives Beel a pitying look. For his credit, Levi pays attention to what's happening but only because of the gravity.

“What are you guys not telling me?”

Lucifer sighs, “Belphegor has been spotted in the human world.”

Beelzebub’s heart drops with the confirmation of his fears. 

“There's something else, Lucifer. What did Belphie do?”

He doesn't mean to sound authoritative, but his worry deepens his voice. Lucifer cannot bear to look Beel in the eyes as he answers.

“Belphegor went on a rampage. The reason is currently unknown. Approximately ten thousand humans have been found dead or injured because of him. A lesser demon summoned was able to report this to Diavolo but not before it was too late. He's being taken to detainment as we speak.”

Chapter Text

“We might have been unable to establish permanent relations beyond the unspoken treaty, but we've never been hostile with earth."

Diavolo's voice in the student council room makes everyone tense. It always booms regardless of his emotions, but this time, the echo is a thunder mocking six pained corpses after the lightning struck.

"That status is now in jeopardy after the avatar of sloth went on rampage for unknown reasons," his eyes land on each brother but do not linger on any but Lucifer and Beelzebub, "Selected scholars and diplomats with extensive knowledge of human customs are currently negotiating with representatives chosen from the sorcery community on behalf of the two governments. The damages are the size of a small country. Victims number roughly one million souls. The reapers have been working nonstop to ensure the ones who have passed are sorted appropriately."

Satan speaks up, "Were the damages majorly human lives, or are there other significant equations in play?"

"His rampage was indiscriminate, but property damage is the easier of the two destructions to handle," he sighs, "Lucifer, I'll assume that you'll want to speak with him."

The avatar of pride rises to his feet and bows.

"Thank you, Lord Diavolo. I apologize for this entire affair. I'll try to get any information I can from my brother."

Diavolo nods. The avatar of sloth had refused to speak when questioned by his butler and the other people involved in transporting him to the dungeons. The process had not required any assistance from one of the brothers. Barbatos reported that the moment he told Belphegor he was taking him back to the Devildom, the demon snapped out of some sort of haze and collapsed from exhaustion. He left the meeting after his briefing to attend his duties that accumulated in the palace both during his brief abscence and due the reason behind it.

"His solitary confinement will prove hellish enough to grant him a small mercy such as your visitation."

Lucifer holds in his pained expression. He knows that he has to. He is grateful Diavolo did not enact a harsher punishment for treason and this horrific act of terrorism. Belphegor should be tortured with more than isolation. If it had been demons killed, the punishment would have been lighter. Belphegor had no reason to massacre demons, even during his hormonal periods. He got huffy and scratchy and slept too much to interact with others anyways. This was something Satan in his younger years would've been capable of after a fight with Lucifer. Yet everyone in the room knows that Belphegor counts human lives as nothing. There was no instigation ever needed to make Belphegor willing to tear out a human's throat since their fall.

Lucifer makes eye contact with Mammon as they are dismissed from the briefing and sentence annoucement. The second eldest has a look Lucifer knows means he won't be addressing the issue. The eldest can't blame him. Each of his siblings look ready to flee or breakdown on the spot, with Satan noticably having his mask sealed all the tighter.

"I'll be back for dinner," he murmurs as he separates from the rest of his brothers.

Classes are over. They will be going straight home. Most of them like to go out after school, but he has a feeling nobody will want to be in public after this incident, with the exception of Asmo who may lose himself in his sin. The fifth eldest never liked showing anything "ugly" to others, even his family. They all expressed pain in their own ways.

Not seeing reason to drive, Lucifer teleported to the castle, where Barbatos was already waiting to escort him. They do not talk as they walk. He is glad for the silence. It lets him think.

There's nothing I can do currently to lighten Belphegor's sentence in a cross-realm disaster such as this…for now. Our statuses already saved his life and kept him from the fate a lesser demon would have had enacted upon them. I can let him be heard out before he's left to his own thoughts for years. We need to know why he made it to the human world. Assuming he went to school, there could have been outside interference. If there's anything that could insinuated that he's not solely at fault, there will be a light to see my family out of this crisis. Perhaps, I could convince Diavolo to move him to a better place after a while, but this… I am being too hopeful. Belphegor does not need a reason to slaughter members of the human race.

So consumed in his thoughts is he that he does not realize when they arrive at the cell until a sudden groan jolts him from his thoughts. Sprawled in the corner is Belphegor in his demon form. He eyes both demons before him tiredly. Lucifer can smell the exhaustion wafing off of him and the bitterness beneath the surface. There is no doubt that he would be spitting venomous words instead of simply glaring if it weren't for his drained state.

"I will leave you to your conversation, Lucifer," Barbatos leans in a tad closer while pretending to straighten his flawless outfit and whispers, "I wish you luck."

The butler returns the way they came, walking with an unnatural amount of noise. The halls really did echo so. Lucifer pays no mind to the change of mannerism and speaks as the footsteps behind him fade.

“Why did you do it?”

Belphegor snarls at the eldest and turns his head, tail flicking in suppressed anger. He flips onto his side to face fully away from Lucifer and flops his arms loosely. It's the position he takes when he wants to end a conversation. Unfortunately for him, Lucifer has no intention to drop the topic.

"Belphegor, talk to me. I want to know why you traveled to the human realm and started a massacre with no reason," the eldest prods, "Even in your hatred, you lack motivation to do physical labor."

“Why does it matter?" He sighs, "Your precious Diavolo doesn't like you enough to take your war criminal brother out of prison when he's unrepentant.”

“That's Lord Diavolo to you,” the pride demon chides, “and it is important."

Belphegor suddenly stands, swaying shakily. His tail is drooping yet flicks in agitation. The pride avatar has the feeling that his younger brother would hit him with it—or maybe a fist instead—if he had the strength.

"You never know when to drop it!"

Lucifer approaches the cell's bars, "The demon who decides when something is being dropped or not is me. I'm tired of dealing with your tantrums and ignoring reality whenever you can't get your way."

One of the sloth demon's fists clench, and his right palm slaps his chest. It takes a noticeable effort. The youngest sin reminds his brother of a reed in a thunderstorm, trembling and blowing back and forth yet remaining planted where it has decided to grow despite the environment it is in. His weakness from rampage does not stop him from standing and facing Lucifer with hatred coloring his eyes.

"And I'm tired of you being a pretentious asshole! When was the last time you ever showed you cared? You're the one who only thinks about himself and his damn twisted morals. You're the one who kisses ass for a living after all! Your first question down here is 'Why, Belphegor?'," he mocks his voice with a falsetto, "It's always guilty until proven innocent with you. The only demon you'd believe to not have caused an incident intentionally is your darling prince. Go suck a dick if you want to hear nice words from someone!"

Every word of his is bitter. Perhaps, he was not a reed but just rotting wood, bobbing and decaying miles from where it should be and unable to ever be part of the greater picture it once was. Why could Belphegor not set aside himself for peace?

"Watch your words, Belphegor," he warns his brother.

Belphegor scoffs, "What are you going to do? Lock me up for being 'bad' again? Your boyfriend beat you to it."

He doesn't know when to shut up, the disrespectful—

"Tsk," his frown deepens.

Lucifer looks away with half a mind to leave before he loses his cool. That would not be a good image for Diavolo to hear about.

"I don't need to ask a foul mouthed brat like you about anything I don't deem important or aligned with my reasons for coming here," Lucifer refuses to admit to his curiosity as to other nuances, "You no doubt began slaughtering the moment you fond a way through the Devildom's safety measures against cross-world travel."

Once he has taken a stand, he will not back down from it, especially not with a demon like Belphegor who takes any oppurtunity he can get to jab at him. He lives off of seeing him suffer or stumble, soothing his spite and pain by soaking in his brother's misery and blaming him for his situations. It is partially Lucifer's fault the family was like it was after all. It's not like Belphegor was wrong in that matter. He just didn't know the real reason that he was right.

"I didn't do anything! It was the goddamn human who managed to summon me! It was the disgusting mortal who said th—" he catches himself and stops, clicking his tongue in anger at being riled up enough to give Lucifer what he wanted.

Lucifer's eyebrows raise in his frustration. Now he is getting somewhere. He turns around. What did the human do to provoke an alteready murderous Belphegor to kill without end?

"Finish what you were saying, Belphegor."

The command pisses the youngest sin off. Like hell he would let his pretentious stick in his ass and whip as his best friend brother command him around. The avatar couldn't even respect his grief, much less his feelings. He did whatever he want and commanded them all like a tyrant and expected to be obeyed without flaw like one too.

He's just a jerk.

"It's not important," Belphegor's eyes are glowing with anger, despite the colors being dulled due to his fatigue. "What's important is that they deserved to die."

"I want to know, Belphie.”

The nickname makes him close off. There is no way in hell he would let Lucifer take advantage of his softening emotions to get what he wants. Manipulating his fatigue to get what he demands is just low.

“You know what I want?” Belphegor fixes his brother in a glare, “The end of humanity! We don't all get what we want, just pieces of potential futures, enough to make us hope what we want will come true.”

Pride holds back the softer words Lucifer could use in response. All that leaves him is a sound of disappointment. Belphegor flinches upon hearing it but stands his ground, albiet one with less physical firmness than the other. The two glare at each other until the one not trapped in a tangible prison finally sighs in frustration and turns on his heel. He knows Belphegor will not yield his strong will. He is still angered with him for imprisoning him within the attic years prior. Their relationship only decays with each passing moment, but there is nothing he can do.

"If you won't be reasonable, you'll be trapped here for millennia," Lucifer reminds him.

Belphegor laughs, "What's a few more years in detainment? You sure won't care considering this is the type of place you think I deserve when I do something you don't like."

He just won't listen. I'm trying to protect him and all he cares about is how pitiful he thinks he is. Who knows if he'll be allowed visitation? Why won't he consider someone other than himself? He and Satan have always been a hassle, but he grew worse after the exchange program.

Lucifer sighs, "You never listen, do you? Your version of the story must always be right."

"You only speak of yourself, Lucifer," he rolls his eyes, "You don't believe anything but what you decide for yourself should be truth."

The avatar of pride turns with a snarl and scoff of disbelief. He lowers the hand from his chest he did not know that he raised.

"Stay there then, dear little brother."

His foot steps echo, words for themselves in the silent dungeons. Belphegor waits for him to be gone to speak, aware no one will hear him. That was the only reason he says anything after the stubborn silence he subjected his brother to to end the conversation.

"If only you truly meant that title you used."

Chapter Text

“Beel, are you sure you're full?" Mammon's voice has a concerned edge to it.

His family has been in the dumps since Belphie's rampage and detainment. It's a complete drag. Asmo pretends nothing happened, but he avoids the topic completely. Satan stays shut-up in his room more than usual, pouring over books and muttering to himself. Leviathan's anxiety worsened, causing him to be hesitant to venture out even when he wanted to.

Beel was hit the worst.

Everyone in their inner circle knows that Beel's appetite turns weird when his emotions go weird. His demon form lost its luster; he lost weight too; and he gained eye bags that are impossible for even Asmo to conceal. It was like watching a demon in mourning…

…only Belphie was still alive, damnit!

Things are tense between all the brothers and the eldest. Lucifer was up to his neck in duties following the incident, too distracted to try to address the growing gap between him and his brothers. As the second eldest, Mammon knows that he needs to look out for his siblings when things get rough. He can't get Lucifer out of his head, but he can make sure the younger ones take care of themselves.

"It's fine, Mammon," Beel sighs, "Thanks for asking."

He leaves the dining room, yet the gloom seems to grip them even more. Mammon looks at Lucifer hopelessly. The eldest is staring ahead blankly, too caught up in his thoughts to acknowledge his surroundings. Mammon sighs and stands up.

"Levi, we're on kitchen duty."

He doesn't wait for a response before heading back with his dish. Satan follows to put his dishes and Asmo's in the sink. Leviathan's footsteps are heard approaching a few minutes later.

Looks like he did hear despite having his head in the game.

They work in relative silence for a bit before hesitantly Levi pipes up.

"Do you think that he'll…" he groans and looks behind him nervously.

Mammon, despite others' mockery of him, can catch on quite quickly when he's paying attention. They were forbidden from saying his name—didn't that remind him of a certain incident five years ago—but Lucifer was a real dumbass if he thought they'd pretend he didn't exist. Last time they did that, he had been trapped in an attic without their knowledge. His brothers really couldn't learn from the past sometimes.

The avatar of green exhales noisily, "We'll come up with something. It's not right for brothers—"

Levi darts across the room and slaps his hand over Mammon's mouth. The soap tastes awful, and a bit of it gets in Mammon's eye.

"Moofmd dwoof foowg?" He spits out and jerks back.

"What Levi is trying to convey is to not be so loud if you're plotting something," Satan's voice sounds behind him, making him jump several feet into the air.

"Don't go creepin' up on someone and scarin' them like that, jeez," Mammon groans, "Do you honestly think I have nothing between my ears?"

Both of his younger siblings fix him with a look, and he feels himself bristle. What was he expecting? He'll always be dumb in their eyes.

"I'm not telling you anything because you're bribable and an awful liar," Satan points at Mammon, "and I'm not telling you because your anxiety would worsen with your health. We don't need more dispositions plummeting," he points at Levi, "but I'm not going to let that asshole take us down with his stupid pride just because he wants to drown in misery and mope like a child."

Mammon feels indignant at being excluded but sees his point. He talks big but would let something leak the moment Lucifer cornered him, and Levi hated having to keep secrets in the family. Satan doing it alone though…

"Fine, I admit I'm bad at sneakin' around and stuff," Mammon mumbles out without a fight, "but are you havin' anyone else help you? At least have a partner who can watch your back."

Both of his brothers look at him like he said something surprising.

"What? Ya wanna fight or somethin'?"

Satan shakes his head with a smile, "I'm just surprised that you can speak sense at times."

Levi nods along, "I should mark this down in my calendar! We can make it a national holiday. Mammon gained a wrinkle on his brain," he wipes a fake tear.

"Tch, now listen here ya rude young ones-"

Levi spluttered, "I'm not even that much younger than you!"

"Satan sure is," Mammon rolls his eyes.

He can feel his brother glaring at him and gulps. Nope, he was standing his ground.

"Just because I can get into a few scrapes here and there doesn't mean I'm not fully capable! I'm one of the ruling avatars here. It wouldn't kill ya to remember that," he huffs.

Levi laughs, "Yeah, yeah, pay back your debts and get decent grades and we'll believe you."

Satan moves on, "I have a partner in mind, but I haven't discussed it with them yet. I'll keep you two updated if the plans begins to go into motion so you don't hinder it. If anyone asks, tell them Satan's thinking up a way to cheer up Beel. You guys can handle that much, right?"

The third born inhales sharply but nods, "Anything to solve the problem."

Mammon nods. He doesn't like agreeing so easily, but Satan did say that he'll tell him updates! That's more than what his siblings would usually give him. Though he wonders who the mysterious "they" is. He begins to walk out of the kitchen with his tasks mostly done. Levi won't notice he's doing his work with this distraction.

"If Lucifer finds out, you're gonna start homeschool too," the second eldest cackles, "Don't get cau- OOMF"

His face slams into a wall.

But that's where the door is…

"Aye, what's the deal with this damn-"

"Sorry, Mammon," Beel responds, "I didn't see you when I opened the door."

Everyone in the room stiffens. Mammon knows Beel probably wasn't there for long, but did he hear anything? Behind him, Levi clears his throat anxiously.

Wait, he should be happy that we're doing something to help Belphie and the family! What do I have to be worried about?

"So, Beel about the incident, we were thinking of doing something cause it's not right that Belphi-

A kitchen utensil nails him in the back of the head.

"Mammon, be quiet," Satan warns.

The avatar of greed is indignant at the treatment. He's older than all of them yet they're treating him like he's not important. He's the Great Mammon! Who is Satan to boss him anyways? Not even Lucifer should boss him!

"Why? I thought Beel would be happy to learn we're doing something for him!"

Satan groans, "It's a surprise, and I'm not even sure it'll work!"

"What about Belphie?" Beel has that sad puppy dog face that makes all the brothers feel weak.

They all stiffen. Mammon sweats now that the realization of what he almost says slowly sinks in.

No telling anyone. Got it.

"I can't tell you yet, Beel, because I don't want to disappoint you, but…" Satan sounds unsure as he speaks.

Beel wilts, "But it's to help Belphie, right? You're going to try to get Belphie out, right?"

"We don't know. Satan won't even tell us…" Levi mumbles.

"Yeah but isn't that important?" he insists.

The third born deadpans, "I just said that I don't know."

"Satan, is it for Belphie and you're using me as a excuse?"

"Yeah, Satan, how exactly is this gonna go?"

Beel waves his hands, "We don't need that many details as long as I know something is happening."

"Arguably, the more details we know the better we'll feel, but Satan-"

Mammon feels Satan's magic levels raise. He seems to be the only who does though, as Levi and Beel take a few steps towards their brother. His stress rises with every word. Despite his reliability, he's still the avatar of wrath. Too many emotions always add up to anger for him. The second eldest knows that he has to do something, but what could distract his brothers from taboo discussions other than the threat of Lucifer?

Lucifer… Aha!

He is 80% sure that the avatar of pride has a spell that alerts him whenever his brothers say his name in conversation or muttering. How else would the eldest always be able to find him when he was hiding flawlessly or hatching a plan nobody should be the wiser about? Names were a key factor in summoning and contracts. A demon's names are powerful, even the ones that they use for formalities.

"Y'all should probably scatter before Lucifer comes here. Lucifer will do more than be mad," Mammon begins quietly but hastily tries to save face once he realizes how he sounds, "I'm not saying that because I'm scared of Lucifer or anything. In fact, Lucifer's rules are rubbish."

Satan's murmurs cannot be heard over Mammon's voice, "Why are you saying his name so much?"

"I'm just advising you for your own good. I'm doing just fine by myself. I ain't scared of no Lucifer. Lucifer can't hurt me."

A chill wraps around Mammon's spine and stabs into it. Others' fear responses were a quick jolt of cold or shiver but not his. Fear concerning Lucifer was gripping and painful. Memories of past punishments flickered through his mind.

I forget the excuse we were supposed to use if Lucifer asked questions.

Mammon silently cursed.

"Care to repeat your little rant, Mammon?"

Again, the avatar of greed did not scream like a child. The scream he let out was an adult's. Brave people scream all the time.

"I was just telling them to stop chatting so Levi can finish his side of the kitchen chores. Oh, would you look at that," Mammon points in the direction of the window or clock (he doesn't remember which), "It's time for me to go to my room. I'll be heading out."

He slips to the side and attempts to walk out of the kitchen. A grip on his collar stops him.

"How is the blender supposed to tell the time?"

Mammon hopelessly makes a pleading face towards Levi, who jolts at the sudden attention.

"Uh- uh- uh-" he whips his head around, "You didn't finish your cleaning assignments, Mammon."

"Damnit, Levi, you can't do your brother a solid?" the second born gripes.

Leviathan looks indignant, "Says the guy who was trying to dump all the work on me after loudly shit talkin-"

He has the sense to shut up when the pieces click for him. Beel looks away before Mammon can try convince him to help him out of his scrape. Satan, now appearing to be calmer, sighs and tries to leave. Lucifer lets him past. The second born chokes as he tries to wiggle out of the grip just to find his shirt is being held too. The eldest unceremoniously drops him, almost having him crash to the floor.

"Levi, Beel, you can leave. I'll finish up with Mammon."

Everyone but Lucifer in the room pales. Normally, they are all to eager to leave Mammon to receive punishment, but there are secrets at play here. Nobody can guarantee that Satan's apprehensions won't come true if the oldest brothers are alone. Lucifer's sharp eyes seem to pick every detail of their movements, including the hesitation.

"Is there something I should know?"

Both brothers darts out before they can be questioned further. Mammon, now sweating from nervousness, picks up a dish and begins to wash.

Surely he won't question me if I just do my work, right? I can try to remember the excuse. Uh, secret? No, something for Beel... or was it Belphie? No, we're not supposed to talk about Belphie. Did Satan say who he was working with? I forgot, damnit. Maybe I shouldn't have aske-

"I'm only going to ask you once. What are our brothers up to?" Lucifer's voice jolts him out of his thoughts.

"Secret!" Mammon squeaks.

"Oh? You think you can handle keeping secrets?"

I'm fucked.

The avatar of pride pries the metaphorical door of suspicion open now that he has one foot in.

"No no no no no no no no no! Not a secret! Uhhhh, the other word! The other word! Like, when you're planning something for someone to cheer them up!"

"Hm," he contemplates, "A present?"

Mammon brightens up, "Yeah, that word was the one Satan used! For Beel, a present! But he didn't want us to spoil the surprise!"

"You had better not be lying, Mammon."

Lucifer is too close. Then, he is too far. Mammon doesn't know. Fuck, he misses his family. When he turns his head, the eldest is gone with Leviathan's side of the work completed. The kitchen is unusually quiet, though he supposes the silence is now the usual with Beel's upset stomach.

"Damnit, I'm not you. I can't do this."

Mammon cries, but it's not the type you have with tears.

•••

Belphegor has a lot of time to think in his cell, virtually alone other than when the quick zip of a Little D bringing him food. Thinking alone with no outside stimulation can drive a human mad. What does it do to a being born for eternity? It lets them stew without change.

"It's not like he'd care," Belphegor addresses the corner of his room, too deep into boredom to care that there is no answer, "No matter what he says, he still leaves me here without a peep. Surely, if he asked Diavolo, I could at least see Beel. I've been a model prisoner. There's no human scum to kill here after all!"

An emotionless laugh leaves him, and he twirls on his heel. He's already bored of the rant he has had a dozen times over. With a yawn, he plops back onto the bed of the cell, which is as uncomfortably stiff as the first day he was shoved in here. He has no idea how long he's been here, neither does he care. He guesses he'll be treated like someone worth anything to be considered after a handful of years or so. Maybe they'll ask him if he's reconsidered and Lucifer will cut him a look. They can ask all they want. Fuck Diavolo's petty peace. He wishes he could've been the one to destroy the exchange program years ago, but he applauds the demons who ate the pathetic human. Humans deserve the worst for their existence. If it wasn't for them, his sister…

His eyes shut in tiredness, but he doubts he'll sleep. He never has gotten a proper rest since he fell. The distance from his twin makes it worse. He can feel Beel's pain through the layers of dirt he is no doubt packed under in this dungeon. It's dull and oozing, a wound whose healing is impeded consciously, not fatal but still an endless reminder. His pain is nothing like what he supposes Beel can feel from him. His pain burns like an infection, a fever making him sick and restless. It's too hot to calm, even in the moments when he's tired of being so angry that he cannot make himself "sleep."

Unable to control dreams due to weakness and unable to rest due to his nature, Belphegor lies with his eyes closed and turns off his bodily functions one by one. The brain always goes last. Using magic to hard reset is the only way he can get a wink of sleep in this setting.

"I hope Beel can't feel it all. He doesn't deserve my tortured state."

"You wouldn't be in such a state if you had a modicum of control."

Belphegor stops the process, sits up, and peers at the owner of the voice. He would recognize its pitch anywhere.

"What's his highness's butler doing in such a place?" The avatar sneers both titles out, annoyed that the first familiar face outside of a nightmare is Barbatos.

"It seems you've forgotten that I manage the prisoners. I keep close surveillance of any major criminals, including you," he doesn't take the bait.

Barbatos' smile is non-existent under the flickering light of the torches lining the walls. He never changes, impeccable posture and practiced gaze not faltering the least in any situation.

"You're here purely for observation? You'll be disappointed to know I get up to nothing in here."

"If I wanted amusement or the unexpected, I'd visit the House of Lamentation."

The mention of his home makes Belphie's longing rise to the surface of his feelings. The burning hate for Lucifer is there, but his family—

"How- how are they-"

Barbatos looks almost amused, "What makes you think I have any need to inform you of the news of the world above your containment facilities?"

The avatar sighs and adopts a different approach.

"I just want to know how they handled all of this."

Barbatos smiles. It makes Belphegor uneasy. The demon lord's butler did not smile at people he was displeased with. Rebellion against Diavolo is the worst offense you can commit to the being known as Barbatos.

"The family is in shambles," the words are light on his tongue, "Lucifer has drowned himself in work and wine. Mammon is in scrapes even he should be able to avoid. Leviathan isn't seen often and cannot be contacted except through phone. Satan's violence and isolation is worse than usual. Asmodeus has gone on lust sprees so often that Lucifer had to tell him to stop killing citizens. Beelebzub's appetite has noticeably decreased, and he got a prescription for sleeping medicine recently."

All of Belphegor's fears crash into him with those words. Not just Beel, but his entire family… He presses his hands to his eyes to calm himself before he asks Barbatos another question.

"Why are you telling me this?"

When he receives no reply, he looks up. Nobody is there before him. Barbatos is always elusive, but the sitation gives him the odd sensation of having a hallucination. It wouldn't have been the first. His laughs echo around him. So much for forcing himself to sleep slowly. He yanks the metaphorical chords all at once, not wanting to give a moment of time for paralysis or nightmares. He'll sleep without sleep once more.

Chapter Text

It isn't often that Barbatos peers into the future. It bores him a bit these days. He once liked the feeling of unrestrained power over time, but Solomon and Diavolo had taught him the joys of surprise as they grew. Not knowing what would come in full lets his actions feel less stoic and rids him of temptation to play with fate. Nobody would know if he shaped reality to be the way he fancied. Guilt would consume him with just the thought. No, he only meddles with the passage of time if the young heir tells him to. And, for the first time in centuries, Diavolo wanted a thorough analysis and report of the future. That is why the butler now sits in his room and lets his mind relax. He probes into the future just enough that he could see if further misfortunes awaited his lord. Seeing every detail is a bit nightmarish. He just needs to do enough to reassure or brace his lord for the future.

People think that seeing the future is like a movie being played behind one's eyelids. It really isn't so. Every action has a reaction, and the road that is the future may be laid out but remains unpaved until you are at that point in time. Barbatos can move the pieces and choose the materials, but there is only so much he can do once the layout is there. It is fortunate that he has not been asked to change reality this time.

Mind relaxed, he lets the future race through his mind.

Satan speaking to him, to Diavolo. Monotony. Tension. Frustration on his part. Hope springing through a soul. There's a human. A blessing and a curse. Belphegor is free. Lilith? A fly is drowning. Belphegor embraces the human. The dragon is crying, crying, crying. He has never seen his prince smile for so long. Purple around every corner. Stained glass or kaleidoscope? Blood. Blood. Nobody is distressed from the blood. A bond? No, several? A sheep. Someone picks up the mirror's shards. An entity smoothen the road despite its bloodied hands. There is a face he has not seen for a millennia. He needs to go back. There's something he missed. The purple fog is covering-

Barbatos coughs, jolting himself out of the haze. Smaller pieces of the chunks begin to creep into his mind to fill the gaps. He must speak to Lord Diavolo in the morning and invite Satan for the afternoon.

If really such a large-scale change will be entering the inner circle of governance…

The devils work hard, but the creature of time will always work smarter.

•••

"Satan, could you come with me? I have something that we need to discuss."

Lucifer eyes the two wearily but decides against asking what the butler could need with his younger brother. It's probably nothing.

Satan, on the other hand, is confused and more than nervous.

Call me crazy, but does he know what I want to approach him about already?

"Of course. I don't have anything after this except shopping. I was needing to talk to you anyways."

The butler smiles mysteriously at him as they exit the student council room. Satan responds in turn with his own mask of politeness, neither party fooled by the veneer. They have a silent understanding that underlines all their interactions, but to address it breaks the rules of that relationship. The two have no need to discuss how they can see through the other's mask. It would be awful rude.

Once they exit the doors of RAD, Barbatos speaks.

"What is your idea to help the current state of governing crisis?"

Satan's eyebrows shoot up, "What do you know already?"

"Hm," the time demon feels mischievous, "Enough that I see no reason to dawdle on pleasantries or sneaking around other's backs."

The avatar of wrath barks out a laugh, "Cryptic as always, Barbatos."

You know enough to ruin the plan, but you chose to approach me instead.

"The ideas that you bring to the prince are always of intrigue."

"I hope I don't disappoint you, master of time. This one's more reckless."

Barbatos sighs, "Just speak before we walk into a district with more activity."

It is true that their walk had taken them to an area completely void of life. Satan was only lightly familiar with this path. It headed towards the shopping district but had no buildings or civilization upon it in the least. Building permanent structures upon the land brought a curse upon the building, and scattered attempts to create things sit scattered across the plain. 'Twas a relatively deserted place oddly close to the city. Nobody knew who cursed it either.

"Do you remember the discussion I had with Lord Diavolo about animals that support humans for varying tasks?"

The butler looks at him, "Of course. I fully prepared myself for Diavolo to request trying a project like that when the suggestion was made, but he never said anything further on the matter after that meeting."

"My idea aligns with the discussion in part. But I think an animal would not assist Belphie."

The pieces click for the teal-haired demon. The human he had seen in his vision, lingering around Belphegor…

"You want to get him a support human?" the idea sounds odd on his lips.

"An emotional support human," Satan corrects.

"My, you really have grown these past few decades."

Satan purses his lips together, "Don't tease. It's been a necessary sacrifice."

At times, it takes the middle child to help a family along, and Satan was not one to often come out of his solitary ways to show such initiative most times. He lived for his pleasures and projects while attached to his brothers in that odd way that they all could never separate, neither did they want to. Barbatos supposes that this must be due to it being something of interest to the avatar of wrath in addition to his concern for his brother.

"Have you come to me to iron out the details and get a leg up with bringing it to my lord?"

Satan looks a bit embarrassed, "I intended to do this task alone and only bring you the finished product, but my brothers showed concern at me tackling the topic without a partner. I do not like to work with others, but…"

He trails off. Barbatos picks it up for him.

"Have no concerns, Satan. I am quite adaptable to circumstances."

The avatar nods, "When should we met again to discuss this?"

"I'm not free until the weekend. You can work on your ideas independently until then."

He hums thoughtfully, "How should this be brought up to Lord Diavolo and Lucifer?"

"Leave that part to me. My lord is the only audience needed to convince, and half the convincing has already been done."

•••

"You want to do what with a human?"

Lucifer sounds both doubtful and curious of the proposition Barbatos brings him and Diavolo.

"That sounds wonderful, Barbatos! I was wondering what you would suggest when you talked to me about what you saw the other day. Pray tell, where did you think of such an idea?" Diavolo replies, giving him no time to answer Lucifer.

The butler hums, "It would be a lie to say this was my idea. I simply saw that my action was deemed necessary to make an ideal future. The credit goes to Satan."

The avatar of pride makes a sound, prompting Diavolo to look over at him. His right hand had an expression he knows as concern covering another expression, one he did not know.

It seems he was unaware of the ideas spinning in his household.

"What do you think, Lucifer?"

He is composed the moment his name is said, expressions once more hidden from Diavolo's view.

"There are technicalities that should be considered. Where would we get a human qualified and with no ulterior motives, and who could stop Belphegor from killing them with ease due to all the contact they'd no-doubt have alone? If the support human is the concept I'm thinking of, constant surveillance would hinder the progress."

Diavolo grins, "Between the three of us, do we not know many souls in debt?"

Human commonly bartered with their greatest asset, their soul, when making deals with demon lords. Demons of high enough status oftentimes had no interest or need for smaller gifts. Riches are not significant to the heir of the Devildom, and Lucifer was quite the comfortable demon wealth-wise. His brothers were of varying states, but beyond things that tickled their fancy, souls were always a delicious commodity.

"Souls not already passed or attached to power hungry magic associations would be difficult to find, but it would narrow our list exponentially," Lucifer points out.

Barbatos speaks up, "My lord, if I may?"

"Speak," the prince assents.

"Do you remember the matter-less debt Mammon paid you after a particularly nasty heist of his?"

The avatar of pride cringes with the memory. The damages were extensive enough that he had no idea where to begin paying for the debts when some sort of agreement was struck with Lord Diavolo and his brother and the charges were completely forgiven. All he knew was that it had to do with something Mammon valued highly despite thinking there was nothing inside of the deal. A transfer of magical contract rather than physical or spiritual matter confused Lucifer, but the solution was quick and relieved him of some weight.

"Are you insinuating that the power of that debt may be active and alive to this day? I haven't checked in over a century…"

"You should attempt to retrieve it. The circumstances of the deal are highly beneficial," the butler urges.

Diavolo closes his eyes and locates the incident in his mind. Many things must the future king sort through, and his wealth is almost innumerable. If not for Barbatos, he wouldn't be able to keep track to all his assets. Of course, there are not so many attached directly to him. Tracing through his magic, he finds the feeble beat of a soul's tied to his own. The soul was alive and a powerful one at that.

"Lord Diavolo-"

Lucifer's voice brings him to open his eyes. Before him, levitating above his forearm is the contract. Both signatures are blurred from time, though the faintest recognition of Mammon's messy handwriting was littered across the document, and there was the yellow glow that indicates where he dabbed the contract. A scale—pinned to the page and seemingly infused with blood—sparkles. Every party in the room knows that such a sign indicates that the payment of a contract is being fulfilled. Blood will turn to a glow once both parties collect their side of the agreement, the reason behind Mammon's side already glowing.

"What is the contract for?" Lucifer questions, sharp eyes analyzing the floating parchment.

Diavolo chuckles, "Mammon informed me that he traded a warlock's firstborn's soul for some sort of assistance. Considering their rarity, the soul is bound to be of use."

Warlocks are not frequently known, but they're always terrifying. As their name "oath breaker" suggests, they have broken some sort of contract or promise to be able to acquire their notoriety. Most begin as witches or wizards (and rarely as sorcerers) before changing titles. Magical, angelic, and demonic communities alike despise the cold-blooded traitors to the binds that hold them. You're not supposed to be able to escape after breaking a contract. It's unnatural to any sphere. It indicates your deadliness without you having to ever harm another being. Regardless of biology, warlocks are never referred to as their birth species once taking upon the oath breaking title. The first warlock ensured that, blood thirsty and bored menace of a creature.

"Considering the nature of those traitors, making a child of an oath breaker into an emotional assistant for Belphegor is a kinder mercy than whatever the circumstances of their birth could subject them to."

All three nod in agreement. No relation to a warlock ever remained untouched by their cursed nature. A library of memoirs could be written to acknowledge the lost and broken lives of those who were foolish enough to get close.

"The soul is a powerful one, no doubt inherited from its parentage," Diavolo informs.

Lucifer is nodding along now, "Could it possibly be enough power to resist my brother's harm?"

The contract vanishes back underneath his skin. The prince is thoughtful.

"I doubt it. We'll need another contingency if this is the one we plan to use," Diavolo pouts.

Barbatos speaks as he picks up the emptied cup beside his master, "Does the soul have enough magical ability to make the tie of requited?"

The heir to the throne beams. A tie of equal injury balance was quite forbidden and forgotten due to it's common uses in torture and love but little else, and none of the speaking parties would ever consider such a thing with a free soul. One completely under Diavolo's command though…

"Oh, it has quiet enough for that tie. It could even preform a lover's tie if it wished. That is not a concern," Diavolo turns to Lucifer, "I'm sure you have concerns though, considering that this is your brother."

"Humans age and can die," Lucifer holds his composure tightly, but his tension is visible to Barbatos, "Such a tie may do more harm than good."

The conference continues for a few more hours, running into all of their night schedules yet surprisingly refreshing the eldest. Barbatos would further consult with Satan about schematics and detail work during their next meeting. But finally, things were looking hopeful.

•••

"You can just leave me here to rot."

The butler stares at the stubbornness of youngest sin. Diavolo had readily agreed to the proposition when he discussed the potentials to him some weeks ago, and the entire council—including the concerned Lucifer—was finally on board with the idea after Satan and he had begun preparations, but it would mean nothing if the biggest obstacle was stubborn.

He has no reason to be beyond pride and spite.

Belphegor looks awful. His hair is a mess despite the facilities given to him to remain orderly, and his eye-bags make him look like a corpse. Barbatos does give the youngest sin credit for being clean. His hygiene was not completely neglected.

"It's a mercy, and you refuse?"

"You can keep your mercies to yourself," Belphegor's magic cradles his form, curling into himself with hostility and boredom, "I would never do something as derogatory as have a human to hold my hand and talk to me about my feelings.

Monotony.

For his credit, Barbatos could rarely catch Belphegor in a weak moment. The sin had a thick wall up against anyone he counted as a supporter of Diavolo, and he knows he counts as the closest demon to the prince. Belphegor never had anything personally against him. His position, on the other hand…

"These are the only terms my lord is willing to consider to free you once more. All other compromises fell through in some way-"

"Other compromises?" he sounds curious, "Who gave this proposition?"

Barbatos holds back his grin. It won't be enough to convince the avatar of sloth, but information about his family was bait for the hook Satan and he had crafted.

"Lucifer spent roughly three days in and out of planning for ways that you can be freed with restrictions, but my lord refused him. The only give finally permitted was allowing you greater comfort while detained due to status."

He avoids answering directly. Thankfully, the avatar of sloth seems occupied with the idea of his family fighting for him.

"I'd… I'd consider working with a compromise," Belphegor's lip curls, "but I'll never work with a human."

These years will be short to us but still so painful for his brethren. If only he could see past his rage…

Chapter Text

In the dungeons, a battle of will rages. For the family of six, ten years crawl by. The house is not the same. Satan’s short tempers grow shorter and rages more violent when he's not completely withdrawn. Lucifer finds himself drowning in responsibility, the only soothing for his heart's aches. Mammon is constantly in scrapes, but the increasing recklessness makes his brothers surprised each time. Leviathan refuses to come down to eat anymore, even when he cooks the dinner. Asmodeus is a constant presence, but less and less does he have reason to lounge about the general living areas when most stay in their rooms or out of the house. Beel's condition only improves enough for him to be able to continue his physical activities of before but with much less passion. Belphegor's absence settles a firm depression upon the family. Simultaneously, everyone feels like they're waiting for something.

Oddly enough, it's a visit from Solomon that sparks a bit of energy into the monotony and turns fate's wheels farther.

"You're going to be in so much trouble if Lucifer sees me in the house, Asmo."

The demon quirks an eyebrow at him and smirks. A visit from Solomon was always great at letting him find something to enjoy. He wasn't going to let the stick in the mud ruin the human's first trip back since the program.

"That's why he won't see you, Solomon. Come on," he tugs his hand as their pace increases.

"Asmo, are ya trying to piss Lucifer off?!" Mammon yells from the place that he's strung up, "That's a human! One that Lucifer finds annoying at that! Hah, at least he won't be takin' it out on me…"

"You're just jealous that you never make pacts with humans as charming as Solomon," Asmo winks at his partner as they ascend the stairs, "If you snitch, I'm gonna tell Lucifer where your gambling receipts are~"

Mammon gasps and squirms, though he knows the action fruitless, "How do ya know about them?"

The strawberry blonde ignores his brother's inquiries and makes a beeline for his room.

"If you sent me a message ahead of time, I could've been prepared, Solomon," he talks as he enters his bedroom.

Solomon looks around quietly. He had seen the inside of it many times, albeit usually it has been mostly dark or only candlelit, but it was a place meant for a creature of beauty such as Asmo. The soft rose scent is pleasant and can make a person feel pretty just by being surrounded by them. It's no wonder they are the main decorating piece.

"I wanted to surprise you, Asmo. It has been 15 years since I've been here, and the border is even harder to get through since the incident," he mentions it lightly, not wanting to step where he does not belong.

Asmo pouts, "Well, now you'll have to wait for me to get ready before we can have a night out on the town. Beauty takes time."

"Asmo," Solomon is suddenly behind him, cheek brushing his hair lightly, "who wouldn't want to watch you get ready?"

The avatar of lust grins with his whole face before catching himself. A giggle spills from his lips.

"You're a real charmer for a guy who doesn't have his heart go pit-a-pat. If you keep it up, we won't leave the room~"

He kisses Solomon's cheek before darting off to his closet. Solomon takes off his cloak and sits on the bed to watch a process that he knows will easily take over an hour.

"Oooo, this new dress I got would work perfectly for the occasion. I've been wanting to bring them back in style. ♡ Of course, I could pull off anything, but I'm tired of the jean accessories that have been going around. I might need to get a bigger closet to fit all the different styles... Here, you have to match!
I know that humans are doing this thing called polyester. I'm not very fond of it. No fashion to it—it was only created to cut costs! Honestly, Satan must be eating a ton of rage with all these ideas he keeps feeding the humans.
Oh no, I just realized that this shade of pink has too much yellow in it to go with the dress. That's a bummer. In my mind, the tones matched. It could be that I was thinking about the necklace's appearance while I was at that party. The lighting was different. I don't even have my room fully lit other than when I'm analyzing colors. Creatures like me prefer the dark, you know?
You were born in a desert area, right? Somewhere near there? Don't they have scorpion in the Center West? Hm, actually, Center West doesn't sound right. Where was Israel located again? They didn't have all these new names and labels back when the Sumerians were around. I can't believe people are still fighting over the land, and the reasons always change too. Humans are an awfully chaotic bunch. They should just kill everyone who disagrees with them to establish their authority. ♡ It always works for me.
I suppose I shouldn't keep the sentiment considering that Lord Diavolo wants more peace to be in the Devildom. I'm unsure the extent of peace though. It seems more "being respectful of different realms and their customs" than "changing how our realm does stuff internally" in terms of the entire affair. Many mumblers were fussing about how people would see the Devildom as soft. Ahahahahaha, they're fools. We're demons. Our trickery and maliciousness go hand in hand. If anything, a mask of peace disarms. I haven't seen any declarations cutting down on cannibalism or demon slaughter, so I'm apathetic towards the changes.
What I'm not content with is how noninclusive fashion has been as of late!
I think I'll set the jewelry aside. I'm not getting anything done at this rate.
It's a pity you never want to dress up; I could pull anything out for you. I have plenty of outfits that would look good on you, even if you want to cover your pact marks. It's charming how the others avoid you like the plague.
What do you think, the green base or the blue base? Both of them compliment. I can tell by how you're squinting that you think neither. Good observation. I wouldn't want to be caught dead wearing the blue. It was in style four trends ago. And the green was obnoxious while it was in style because some demons just don't know when to acknowledge when something doesn't suit them. I'll just start with the dress and add the other things as they come! A good center to focus on can always trick my brain into working productively. You once told me you do something like that when it comes to your spell work. Something about humans and… I forgot. Must not be that important if I wasn't listening. Immortals can't forget that easily after all-"

Asmo speaks a mile a minute while going back and forth between jewelry case and closet. He knows the sorcerer is probably only digesting half of what he is saying, but he can't help it. He misses having him around. Solomon has been busy with his own research on and off enough for some of his pacts to not even know what realm he was in. The only reason Asmo knew anything was because Barbatos would mention his contractor's state every now and then in conversation. Solomon was a hard person to ignore the existence of, even if you aren't tied to him by pact.

"What if you tried choosing your accessories then challenging yourself to find something that will match? It'll lower your options."

Asmo bounces—though he will deny bouncing and say he floated gracefully—over to the bed and drapes on it.

"Good idea for the man whose only fashion sense is looking magical, but I'm doing the opposite, actually. That was what I said in my fifty-third sentence."

Do you think I'm counting?

He keeps back a snort and any further amusement as Asmo finishes prepping for the night out.

"You know that you'll look good no matter what, Asmo?" Solomon purrs, taking his hand.

The lord of lust grins and nudges him, "Of course I would! I just want to look my best, Sol~"

Their exit out of his room has them both slamming into the eldest sin's chest. Asmo's grin turns to a strained smile.

"Oh, Lucifer, what a fancy to see you. We were just going out-"

"What is the sorcerer doing in our house?" he cuts straight to the point.

"How much trouble is Asmodeus in?" he interjects the brother's confrontation.

Lucifer looks at him with a dismissive stare. He doesn't bluster under it. He's faced worse.

"It's not your business, Solomon."

"Ah, but you're asking a demon under pact," he smiles, "I pact I would also ask you to be und-"

"Get. Out."

He hums as he glides out of the room and down the stairs. He doesn't let himself laugh until they're going out the front door and toward the bar.

•••

It's well into the night and after many drinks (and brief hookups on lust's part) that Asmo realizes why he feels so full, beyond indulging in his sin. He had been craving this. The impulsive schemes, the teasing voice, the queer contradiction—Solomon's very being was something Asmo had become accustomed to during the exchange program. It was comfort to have his contractor and friend back. From the looks of his aura, he was about to pull something else that would amuse him.

"Maybe I'm drunk on a drink I can't get drunk on, but," Solomon smirks, "I have an awful idea."

The next thing Asmo knows, they're in a place he's only envisioned in legends. The descriptions must hold true because he knows where he is immediately.

"The dungeons, Solomon?!"

"Oops, I meant to go to the lowest level, the labyrinth."

"It's fine, just let's not stick around before a certain demons senses us," Asmo replies.

Impulsive, plotting sorcerers…

Solomon turns and starts walking, "I think I'm sensing the exit this way."

"Solomon," he deadpans.

The sorcerer twirls around slowly, "Yes, Asmo?"

"You can teleport."

They stare at each other in silence. A quiet realization crosses the sorcerer's face.

"I definitely remember that."

Asmodeus laughs and links arms with the man.

"Mhm, so, away we go?"

"Yes, we should be at a lower floor next ti-"

They come face to face with none other than the sin of sloth. Of course, they're outside his prison. He looks as surprised as both of them.

"I'm pretty sure that we're closer to the lowest floor so why did…"

He trails off and observes Asmo as he un-links their arms and approaches the cell. He always holds back his true feelings under dramatics, but it's obvious now that he's touched to see his brother again. It's an almost trance that guides him closer. He stops a step away from the bars.

"Belphie," the avatar of lust calls with a bittersweet smile, "it's nice to see you."

"It's really you, not a dream or vision…" the younger avatar stumbles forward and grips the divide between them, "How did you convince Solomon to sneak you in here?"

He shifts his weight and shakes his head, "Actually, this visit was complete accident. You're banned from having visitors until you compromise or someone makes a better plan than the one offered. Everything but the proposed one was rejected…"

"Uhg, like I'd consider Lucifer's plan," the youngest snarls, "He wouldn't listen to anyone but Lord Diavolo. Just a yes-man."

The air prickles with his hatred. Asmo holds his tongue and hides his pain. The sorcerer, a man with no stake in this, cannot help stirring the pot. His favorite pastime is potions and spells. Too bad there are too many variables for him to know what will cause the reactions.

"You know, Belphegor," Solomon smirks, "The demon who came up with the idea was not Lucifer. It was Satan if I remember correctly. Lucifer hates the idea. He's probably lying about being fine with having a human in the House of Lamentation. He seemed in a lighter mood after the original exchange student died-"

"Solomon," Asmo hisses, "I did not tell you so you could blabber to the very demon we were told not to blabber to!"

"I'm right here, you know. I'm actually interested in what he was sayi-"

He is cut off by Solomon making a kissy noise in Asmo's direction. The avatar of sloth doesn't mind it too much. He's missed his brothers more than he'll ever admit. Seeing the elder gave him a sort of peace. Even as Asmo swats at the sorcerer and threatens to seduce him in earnest, he can't help but smile.

"And who has intruded upon my domain?"

Everyone in the dungeons stiffens up. The all too familiar voice seemed to curl around them and glue them to their spots. Belphegor feels his contentment shatter.

"Barbatos?" Solomon tests.

The time demon appears behind him, "What did I tell you about teleportation into the dungeons?"

"Humans have bad memory, you know?"

"Still playing the human card whenever it's convenient to you?" He scoffs but not unkindly.

"Can we see this as a free sibling visitation for the convict?"

Barbatos can't see it, but Solomon is making hand signs, ones the demons who can see his hands recognize as homing gestures. Despite it being out of sight, the sorcerer's hand is grabbed.

"None of that. We're addressing the issues at hand. Belphegor isn't allowed visitors. My lord ordered that much. Now, how do you expect me to explain one of the six demons who are especially not supposed to be in the dungeon making their way to this cell?"

Everyone could agree that Barbatos' smiles were always intimidating. Only a person with as much history with him as Solomon could look at it without trembling with fear.

"Because I don't need to be in the cell anymore."

All three heads turn to the ignored inmate.

"Are you saying that you accept the terms?" Barbatos sounds suspicious.

"What's temporary malpractice if I get to be with my brothers?" His tone drips with sarcasm, but a challenge lights his eyes, "Maybe I would've come to this conclusion sooner if you allowed visitors."

Asmo turns his head to avoid being seen snickering. Solomon busies himself with looking at the ceiling. The two conversing demons are glaring at each other through the bars.

"I understand, Belphegor. I'll report your change of heart to the rest of the council."

Belphie lies down, "Oh, and don't forget to tell Lucifer that the guest room needs to be prepared~"

Asmodeus slaps his hand over his mouth as Solomon makes a choked noise. Nobody notices the Barbatos' expression.

Chapter Text

(…opening chat)

The Brothers and the Demon Lord (9)

Diavolo: Is anyone at the House of Lamentation currently?

Leviathan: I think Mammon was napping before I went to my con.

Mammon: I'm at

Mammon: school

Lucifer: You're trying to skip the extracurricular again, aren't you?

Lucifer:

Mammon:

Mammon: No, I swear I actually am!

Asmodeus: As much as I'd regularly agree with Lucifer, I know Mammon is at RAD. We just parted ways.

Satan: I'm home because it's my day to cook.

Diavolo: Wonderful!

Satan: Why do you ask, Lord Diavolo?

Barbatos: The spell for Belphegor’s emotional support human went wrong spontaneously, and the human was teleported inside of your home instead.

Diavolo: I'm sure she's very scared so please don't frighten her further.

Satan: Noted.

Beelzebub: Is the contract on her yet?

Barbatos: We were supposed to put it on the human when she arrived.

Belphegor: What contract?

Beelzebub: …

Lucifer: Belphie, where are you right now?

Belphegor: Napping in the Planetarium.

Belphegor: Why?

Belphegor: I don't suppose you want me to go talk to a human immediately. I just got home this morning.

Belphegor: Well, I am already awake because of this chat.

Satan

:

Satan: Let me leave the food on simmer.

[Satan has gone offline.]

Belphegor:

[Barbatos has gone offline.]

[Lucifer has gone offline.]

Belphegor: Am I missing something?

Belphegor: Beel, fill me in.

Beelzebub: I'm sorry, Belphie. I'll do it after?

[Beelzebub has gone offline.]

(closing chat…)

If someone told Satan just a week ago that he would be darting like a spooked cat while on hunt to find a human in his house, he'd probably call them a fool. Yet here he is opening and shutting doors with rapid succession and preforming sensory enhancement to find a human he has never ever seen before. It shouldn't be that hard to locate a stray heartbeat and scent, but his concern was hindering his progress. Nobody actually trusted Belphie to uphold his end of the agreement other than Beel. The contract is necessary to keep the human's body from breaking to pieces within the first week of it being in the Devildom.

He stops suddenly when he hears an unfamiliar coughing coming from the Common Room. The demon focuses more. Sure enough, a fast heartbeat is inside the room. He retraces his steps and enters, eyes scanning the area for the human. He finds them easily. The mortal is on the chandelier. The avatar of wrath tries to gentle his expression.

They don't seem to have noticed me yet.

His vigilance increases as his heart rate calms. He can sense a foreign magic. It is so faint that he wouldn't have detected it without the sensory enhancement he had cloaked himself in, considering his current state of focus. The magic covers the entire room in a net's fashion yet seems to have no intents other than clinging to the walls, floor, and ceiling, like a veil or wiring. A few strings cling to him like snags on a dress would cling to a bur.

"Human, are you well?" Satan calls tentatively in English, a language he knows most humans have familiarity with, "I mean you no harm, but I would like to know if you have any injuries. Teleportation between realms can be painful."

The human twists to face the avatar of wrath. They are wide-eyed with a seemingly blank expression. They stare in contemplation for a few seconds before jumping. Satan rushes forward to catch the reckless being. Their face scrunches up repeatedly upon contact. The action of the avatar of wrath seems to only frustrate them as they thrash, causing him to drop them. They take it as a moment to distance themselves, roll to the side, and stand up. Their curious gaze continues to scan the demon, brows now furrowed.

"Who are you and what do you want in having me here? You were looking for me when you were running through the halls. I know because you ceased the action once I coughed. That indicates that you knew I was here but didn't know where. You expected me in some form. Teleportation involves someone making a portal. There's more than one person involved in this abduction. Any magician worth their salt can find their own portal's signature. If you've taken me to get hold of my family, I encourage you to put me back in my home. Only misfortune befalls those who entangle themselves in affairs of this kind. He isn't home yet, and if enough time passes, your magic's scent will be covered by my own. That's the best I could do for you for this honest mistake."

Every word seems practiced from her lips despite how terrifyingly fast she has suspected the entire affair. It is a her, Satan realizes quickly. Her voice is low and throaty yet has a croon to it. It is an odd accent, not one he's heard from any region of earth. It reminds him of much younger days of the realm. She is speaking the most common tongue that magic users know. Testing him, he realizes. If he answers, she'll know he knows a tongue only sorcerers, witches, wizards, and warlocks are privy to. If he doesn't, she'll change tactics until she can figure out where he is from and who he is. She is cunning and quick on her feet for certain. This unexpected mystery thrills him like a good novel. He wants to keep playing but knows time is limited.

"I am Satan, avatar of wrath," he changes to the capital's variation of a demonic tongue, "You are currently in the House of Lamentation. You were supposed to arrive in the Demon Lord's Castle. I apologize for the mix-up."

The human washes their expression away but stiffens noticeably. The magic boxing the room disappears and curls around her arteries.

"I apologize for my lack of fluency in this tongue. My study references are from several centuries ago. Did you say that I am in Satan's castle?"

She speaks an older variant of formal demonic. Her clear pronunciation and garbled accent surprise him.

"I am Satan," he matches her speech, "You are in the House of Lamentation."

She looks confused, "Then why did you avoid my question when you would know the tongue of magic, lord of wrath?"

He takes a step forward. She observes but does not move, magic simply coiling looser and draped across more of her form. It invites him to take another and another. Humans are usually easy to read, but this one is like a chalk drawing after a snow. Everything is smeared and frozen.

"You were the one who sought to test my knowledge with word games. I simply played along," he is before her now, "Pardon the misunderstanding. Will you answer my queries now?"

She nods, neck hairs rising, "I am well. My head hurts a bit, but it has nothing to do with the teleportation. My arms do tingle—"

He lifts her sleeves immediately.

"Excuse me."

He feels her magic form around her body in a defense shield, but it does not bother him. It is to be expected if she knows what type of demon he is.

"Your limbs all look intact. That's good. They're the most frequent to go missing without the owner feeling their absence."

He lets go of her with his investigations over.

"Assuming you know nothing of the situation, let me explain things to you. You are currently in the Devildom, if the language did not inform you. You were supposed to be summoned to the Demon Lord's Castle and have everything explained to you there. I will be escorting you there now, if your body is up to it. I would like to avoid you meeting with other demons until everything is settled."

When she does not answer, he tries a different tactic, "Would you like to sit down?"

She nods and heads to the couch, plopping down immediately. Satan can't read her expression. It is seemingly frozen in neutrality, yet the way her magic flickered across her skin indicated an internal conflict. It isn't his business how his brother's soon to be service human is feeling. He shoots a text to Lucifer and Barbatos separately to inform them before looking at her again. He doesn't say anything. He's not a demon known for words of understanding. Words of advice or ideas, perhaps, but he is not the one others often run to when they need emotional advise, just logical.

"Is it the Demon King or his heir who summons me? I am not familiar with Devildom history, but I believe the prince is currently reigning in his place."

Her words are ridiculously formal. It reminds him of a character from a book. If she called him sire, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Lord Diavolo, heir to the throne, is the demon who ordered your summoning."

She stands up immediately.

"Let us be off then. I have no quarrel for the rulers of this realm."

Satan nods and extends a hand. She takes is, but he is not fooled into believing that her guard is down. Her magic is still draped over her form like chain mail.

"What is your name, human?" he asks her as they leave the house.

She shakes her head, "Ewa, child of companion. "

Her name is said in a human tongue, but her surname is replaced with its equivalent in demonic. Satan wonders if it makes spelling easier.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ewa."

"The pleasure is mine, lord of wrath."

She settles in step beside him and keeps up. He could forget she was there if not for the defensive magic.

•••

Belphegor arrives in the student council room just as the last of his brothers do. He is irritated, of course. When he located where he knew the human to be located, her and his brother's magic trailed out of the house. He ended up half walking half teleporting all the way to RAD. His drowsiness is not gone, just disturbed. He never sleep properly to begin with.

Could they have not texted me to just meet them there?

His gaze sharpens with a quick mental incantation, range of vision widening without moving his eyes. He is going to meet some human and not supposed to act hostile towards them. Changing into demonic form would look like a threat. Spells will have to be his compromise.

"Belphegor, you're here!" Diavolo's gratingly merry voice greets him, "I would like the contract to be cast before we officially start the meeting. It will make things go faster."

"Lord Diavolo," he hopes the poison in his smile finds its way into the prince's system, "What sort of contract is this?"

"It is for the safety and comfort of the human. I need your verbal consent to activate it. She does not need to say a word for it to activate."

The lord of sloth is reminded of who he is speaking to. A crown prince who is a sentence away from being the only mentioned ruler yet already performing the duties of such—Lord Diavolo does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants and only asks opinions when it is a yes or no question. He couldn't imagine feeling bad for the human, but the predicament is similar. They are both trapped beneath this tyrant for varying reasons. Being simply released and made to play cloudy cake was too easy to be all the prince could want from him. A tie of requited? It sounds like a punishment his brother would subject him to under supervision. He is more than supervised. If anything, this specialty is too good for the human. Breaking his own laws and taboos to keep a sin in line—honestly, would Diavolo stop at anything?

Is it a wonder the denizens glorify him? He's the epitome of truly demonic demeanor. He even has the smile and disarming laugh.

"How long will it last?"

Belphegor refuses to sign up for this supervision without his own knowledge of autonomy. He's a ruler in this realm, regardless of the convict status.

"How long will your hatred last?"

Satan chokes and whips his head towards his brother. He must feel his rage boiling without appearance. The youngest doubts that he heard the context while staring at the human so intently, but the brief spike of emotions is enough to alert him. He mutes his treacherous thoughts in the case they become loud enough that the middle sibling cannot help hearing them.

"The average human life span is pretty short," he grits.The prince chuckles, "Then, I suppose it will be a crunch course on emotions!"

Belphegor growls andand slices himself.

"I consent to the oath of requited."

Lucifer and Mammon both look surprised. He must be using an offensive tone from the reactions around him. He wouldn't find himself caring if he cursed the ruler out. His fate is in the soon-to-be Demon Lord's hands, and the self-confident bastard knows it. Diavolo has not lost his smile. The Avatar of Sloth does not allow himself to lose his either.

This is such a stupid game of falsehood.

He feels sick. He's as much of a liar as the next demon, but he hates the falseness of Diavolo more than he enjoys deception. How do his brothers not protest this blatant hypocrisy? Is he the only one not blinded to the flaws? Lucifer is riding the prince's dick harder than all of them combined, yet he's seen as the logical one.

A jolting tug on his soul alerts him of the sealed contract. The human's soul hums distantly in a way he can grasp at but not quite not qui-

The human jolts and looks around with an elevated heart rate.

Diavolo's smile tightens, "I wouldn't-"

Belphegor pulls carelessly and receives a staggering direct pain to his innermost being. Barbatos exhales differently than usual, perhaps a laugh. It's been millennia since anything could even graze his soul.

That's why it was made illegal...only a demon with demonus in their veins or lovesickness would subject themselves to that .

"That's settled, and everyone is here!" Lord Diavolo raises his voice, "We can begin the explanation."

The surprisingly quiet human stiffens (still rubbing her chest), turns around, approaches Diavolo, and waits a respectful distance away. It would look well-bred but confident if not for what he can detect is a nervous tell, its arms crossed in what seems security but actually as a comfort.

I hope it has a raging headache by the time he shuts his yap.

Chapter Text

The Prince of the Devildom finishes his explanation with an expression so jovial that I suspect he is more excited about this than every single being in this room combined.

"I will reiterate to ensure that I understand my situation” I rub my forearm, dialect changed to the language of magic users due to his speech being in that tongue, “My parent owed Lord Mammon a debt and gave him his unborn firstborn's soul in exchange. Lord Mammon owed Prince Diavolo a debt, and my soul was used as an exchange because Lord Mammon was without means to repay. Lord Belphegor is homicidal towards humans. Prince Diavolo was given the idea to get the youngest deadly sin an emotional support human to deal with it. I was chosen due to being the only human soul he had in his clutches that he could easily access and control in full,” I release a sigh that comes from the deepest parts of my soul, “Is that it?”

“In simple terms, yes,” the demon prince answers, "Though you forgot the part where I spare your soul from being consumed in exchange for this task. Incentitive is important to make action."

There's nothing simple about it, you pretentious–

“I would like to inform you that as your current contractor I can hear some of your thoughts,” Diavolo interrupts my spiel against him.

I am polite, your highness, but I will not be changing the very way my brain thinks in order to keep the formalities.

“Humans are very amusing.”

I'm glad you're entertained. I like my soul uneaten very much.

The demons around us, unaware of my side of the conversation, fidget awkwardly. I feel an ounce of pity for the teal haired creature with a stiff expression and break the tension.

“Which one of the emotionally challenged demon lord siblings is Lord Belphegor? I was only given information on the appearances of Lord Asmodeus and Lord Mammon by my father…”

My eyes scan the group. The elegant one with wine red eyes and black locks seems unlikely. I believe the prince referred to him fondly, unlikely to be the one who plotted overthrowing the hierarchy. The red head was scolded for eating habits earlier, likely Beelzebub of gluttony. I already met Satan and can identify Mammon. Asmodeus would be the strawberry blonde if my father's descriptions still prove true. Belphegor was stated to be the youngest and weakest. Only two seem to fit the description appearance-wise. I come to the conclusion that the avatar of sloth is either the anxious looking one with headphones and a game console or the one dressed for war on the bottom and a casual outing on top. While neither particularly fit the image of sloth—one looks as if he simply wishes to cease existence and the other looks more like wrath than Satan—the others are too unlikely. My gaze flicks between the two of them doubtfully.

Three masters in one lifetime—first Lord Mammon, then Prince Diavolo, and now Lord Belphegor, whichever he is. How delightful. I'm only being informed of this fact when I'm on numbers two and three.

I hope Diavolo can hear my sarcasm. I'm horrible with tone of voice, but exaggerated statements usually indicate sarcasm to humans. If the standards are different in the Devildom, he will probably think me serious.

The indigo haired one meets my gaze and looks away instantly, the desire to disappear even more evident on his face from the brief eye contact. When I catch the gaze of the one with frosted tips, he practically threatens me with death with his eyes despite the innocent, smiling facade I'm sure half the audience is buying. I can see past it, my skill in intent reading becoming a benefit now.

"The one with the light blue tie is Lord Belphegor," the retainer supplies, "He is the youngest sin."

Was not Satan the last born??

Diavolo hums behind me, and I shut down my thoughts.

Stop reading my mind, please. I know it has an off-switch or you can make one.

He simply chuckles, probably finding me even more amusing. Demons love to toy with humans. A charismatic prince of a demon is still a demon. I withhold the insults I wish to hurl at him. There is no use in pushing to see how much I can get away with. All monarchs have a limit someone under them would rather be informed of than discover on their own. I walk up to the seventh sin and smile. He glares back with his faked smile still on his face. His eye bags are more noticeable now that I'm closer.

I thought being the Avatar of sloth would mean that you get infinite rest…

His murderous intent is simmering underneath his veneer of cordiality. Deceptive and hostile, just as I was informed.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Belphegor," I switch back to the demonic tongue and bow in traditional Devildom style, "I will do my best to soothe your tortured mind."

Multiple of the lords are making choked sounds, and I feel a silent glare scathe my back from the direction of the seating arrangements. It must be somewhat envy-inducing that I only belong to two people in this room. I will try to appease the fumes with the rest of my partially planned speeches. My face turns to greet the remaining the lords before they think I'm picking a bone. Demons are territorial in the oddest ways, not that I know anything but what the books say.

"Lord Beelzebub, your twin shall be in my care and I in his."

He looks surprised that I'm addressing him. Good. I need to keep these demons on their feet. Beings tend to neglect and ignore things that no longer interest them if they are not their responsibility.

I do not want to have my fate lie solely in the sleep deprived sleep addict and absolute monarch, both of whom seem to be fine with my partial or complete destruction to satisfy their whims. It is to my benefit that they are at complete odds with each other…

"Oh, yes," he mumbles.

Diavolo's withheld chuckles made the situation odd. The being beside him (the one who I learned was the one who glares) is curious about me now. I turn to the next oldest.

"Your fairness does not compare to the tales I've heard of it, Lord Asmodeus," I tilt and nod my head.

It is true. Nobody mentioned anything about the outspoken yet refined style he had. I had thought his prettiness was similar to a model's, but his skin is so flawless that I have to restrain myself from touching it. I do not want to seem like I'm interested in his lust due to my issues with keeping my hands to myself.

Asmo squeals, "What a charming human! Belphie, your pet's so polite," he leans closer and I try my best not to move away, "Now, sweetie, you can me Asmo. All those formalities are a drag, you know?"

He winks. I match his smile and wink back as I turn to the next lord. I can tell that he'll be fun, but there is some sort of morbid danger lurking within him that reminds me he is a demon.

"Lord Satan," I hesitate.

I don't know anything about this demon beyond his sin and legends of his wrath. But earlier, when he was frantically running the halls in search of me, he didn't seem a bloodthirsty ball of anger. He was concerned. He checked if all my body parts were intact. He explained where I was and where I was going. He showed a panicked sort of care that he masked as soon as he encountered another demon. He didn't lose his notoriously short temper when I was presumptuous. I can try to appeal to that.

"Thank you for locating me earlier. Though I was confused and standoffish, you explained things patiently and ensured my safety. I forgot to express my gratitude in the moment."

His face pinkens, and his eyebrows furrow. I feel a jolt of (probably falsely placed) sympathy. Was he unused to being acknowledged? It's common courtesy to say thank you if someone does you a kindness. Politeness makes things easier in social interaction. I don't have to be able to read a face or tone if I'm just nice. Something in me settles and calms after addressing him, making the rest of the greetings not seem so daunting. I can't let the throw off of my schedule threaten my safety. My new schedule has to do with here and now. There is no tell to how long it will be before I can rest and be away from the immediate contact of others.

He coughs, "It's not a problem. I was simply the closest at the time."

I nod and let it pass. My eyes land on the man with ruffled indigo hair. The next in line is either Lucifer or Leviathan. Considering that they have all been in order of "age," it wouldn't be unlikely that this was the Avatar of Envy, but if I got it wrong…

"Considering your name, would you prefer I shortened it?"

My coven tricks are of use to me now. The easiest way to deal with forgotten or mistaken names is to find a way for them to repeat it without letting them know directly that you do not know it. I have a limited grasp here; I cannot ask for contact info or precise spelling of something easily spelled.

"I do prefer Levi," he says quickly, averting his eyes almost immediately.

His intentions are harmless, just evasive. Perhaps a choking issue?

"Well then, avatar of envy, I hope you do not find my presence uncomfortable. I am a human who keeps to oneself."

My eyes slide away from him. The loud demon with shades is quiet now. His intents towards me seem apologetic. It is off-putting in contrast to his general blustering aura that he exhibited when first entering this room.

"Lord Mammon-"

He cuts me off, "Just Mammon."

"I have heard many tales of you in the human realm, but I must say none quite grasp…" my face scrunches twice, "Since you know my father or mother well enough to have had a grasp of my soul in advance, I hope we can find commonalities as well."

His intents towards me are protective. A guilt lurks behind the caution with which he beholds me. It's awkward for him.

I'm not addressing that. I have a count on how many sentences and interactions my body will allow before it shuts down, and both numbers are less than one hundred.

The last of the sins stands in a position that has him both observant of his brothers and prepared for the something. I cannot figure what he is tensed for. I do not know much about him. It is known in magical circles that he keeps a tight reign on anything personal leaking. So much so that the freer brothers have less attention on their information swirling in the human realm than him who is coveted by all but graspable by none. His intent towards me is not quite hostile but defensive on his brother's behalf and extremely suspicious.

How much of my history does he know? Does he happen to be aware who my father is? Satan did not, but he has defined himself as the leader of the sins just by his composure alone. Does he feel on the edge of despise for every new entity in his life?

"Lord Lucifer," I almost stutter and try to dissuade my magic from informing me of how he is dissecting my very soul under that ruby stare.

The room is suffocating now that I am trying to focus on the most intense being inside of it. With the murderous youngest, his intents were very linear. I could feel the call of his soul wishing to tear me to pieces and have me feel every second of the torment. Each greeting I extended added to my constant awareness of their being, and I currently have the weight of six expectant avatars of sin curious to know how I will address the one they consciously or unconsciously look up to and definitely take orders from. His intents intensify the longer I take to speak. A piece of me shoves my limped-tongued self to the side and finishes greeting him in my stead.

"You raised very fine brothers. I will do my best to help the youngest gem."

Where in the world did that come from?

My face softens unnaturally. Nobody is noticing the disconnect. I'm close enough to the surface for the layer to not be seen as it exists.

"How do you know that?"

My body stops itself from shaking by tensing up. A stray thought makes me glance towards Satan. I look away almost immediately. It is foolishness to think a being just as curious as to the answer would stop me from being cornered into stating it. The avatar of pride withdraws his prodding with a hint of a smile.

"I see."

The way he waves his hand feels like a dismissal. I slide back and turn to gather my wits. I am not finished, though everyone in the room seems to think I am when the break stretches long enough. The brothers begin to chat amongst themselves. My body struggles to keep up with the formal positioning as I turn to the highest ranked being here.

"Your majesty," I bow fully yet not in the way a subject does to their ruler in this culture, earning a gasp from multiple sins, "I am not your subject or your charge, but I do value the contracts established from the previous dealers of this soul of mine, whichever of my parents established this. I give no promises as to fulfilling your expectations of me. I only consent to cooperation and will strive for earnest."

I'm being disrespectful. I know. But I am at a disadvantage here and surrounded by eight powerful demons and a being of unrealmly horror. My magic cannot do portals or evasion of this kind. I must twist my words and actions to appear relatively harmless while establishing my position.

Realms above and below, socializing and communications is so hard. How do people do this daily? The books make this sort of thing seem more exciting, but I'm just donning an exhausting covering. I need to melt into the ground at the nearest possible convenience.

"The formalities are unnecessary," he sounds amused, but his intents read as having worry, "But I am pleased to know you take this seriously."

I am unsure if you are, Prince of this domain. I'm very sure that you'd be laughing aloud merrily if everyone else knew about the joke so they could laugh along.

"I could laugh now," he counters in a breath.

They're going to think you mad if you keep talking to yourself…unless this is normal.

I nod and brush off my clothing.

"Shall I ask you your preferred address?"

"Lord Diavolo."

He lets himself laugh with that one. It's a round and melodious sound, enchanting the listener. I suppose his subjects would be disarmed from some of their cautions stiffening. It's unfortunate for him that I am as I am. No other demon is laughing. I do not either. My stress is only heightened by his casual demeanor concerning my life. I try to shove down the anxieties and turn to the most powerful being in the room. He's not looking at me.

"You are not one of noble title, but I know you as prince's retainer and caretaker. May I ask the name with which you would prefer to be called?"

I don't think even the nosy mind reader knew I was going to address his retainer last. The creature—try as he might to disguise, I know something's not fully demonic about him—looks surprised that he was noticed.

I went in order of power, truly.

"I only go by Barbatos," he lies with a smile, "unless there is a specific reason otherwise."

I shut off my thoughts again. Diavolo's aura is inquisitive, and I dislike the thought of a demon who already took my autonomy taking this specific piece of information. I suspect that he can only hear the words of my head.

"Can we leave now?" the choked one whispers to another, "My game has been on hold over an hour now, and I don't know when the season drops are going to fini-"

"We have to take the human with us, dumbass," the second eldest snorts.

"When are we having dinner?" gluttony wonders louder than both of them.

I turn around and raise a brow towards the eldest sin, whose intents towards me make me feel like an item on a checklist, still defensive concerning his siblings.

"Where am I staying whilst I'm here?"

"You will be staying with us, at the House of Lamentation."

Belphie snorts, "The dead human's room?"

Lucifer looks annoyed at the phrasing.

"Yes, she will be in the former exchange student's room."

I hope they perform exorcisms here. I don't know what I would say to their ghost.

Chapter Text

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Belphegor," the human speaks formally in a demonic tongue and bows according to traditions from an eon ago, "I will do my best to soothe your tortured mind."

Is it trying to piss me off?

Turning to Belphegor's twin, it also greets him with extreme formality and soft speech.

What the Celestial Realm-

From the moment that he laid eyes on it, Belphegor decided that the human was going to be an annoyance at best. Its presence is so feeble. Despite its evident familiarity with its own magic, the power simply lies unused and weaves in its body like a torn wicker basket.

It can't even keep it bottled or at use on a constant basis. How does it plan to defend itself?

He judges it for winking at Asmo. He bristles at the familiarity it tries to pull with Satan. It manages a sentence out of Levi AND no bluster from Mammon. Even the impenetrable Lucifer just backs off from his questioning.

This bitch is a sneaky ass faker. I hate her- it… I need to finish my nap.

He nestles onto Beel's shoulder, his twin bending his knees to let him rest against him. The gentle giant is thinking of just picking him up.

"Not necessary, Beel," he chuckles.

•••

When the human turns to Beel, he's not sure what to expect, but he doesn't expect her to greet him.

"Lord Beelzebub, your twin shall be in my care and I in his."

The avatar of gluttony makes a noise.

Why is she paying me mind?

"Yes."

He's not known for his eloquence, and this was very put on the spot. For a moment, his hunger is forgotten. It returns in full force a few minutes later.

I hope she can help Belphie.

He sees no reason for the human to have decided to talk to him unless she was serious or a suck-up. She smells of stress, magic seemingly relaxed but actually as ready as a crustacean's seemingly "limp" pinchers to deal with any flying accidents. Having observed that their auras are not fully tucked in except Mammon's and Ewa's magic reacts to each in its own way, he knows that his brothers don't seem to have remembered an important part of dealing with weaker beings. If you give yourself an appearance of hunters and back a creature up, even a rabbit can leave nasty scars. Unless they want to snap her because they think she doesn't deserve it or because of their sins.

This is too hard to think about. I'll just ask them instead of guessing. No good comes from assumptions.

This is for Belphie. He wants Belphie to get better. It's his fault that he's hurt in this way. If only enough to help this plan work, he'll try to not be an active threat to this creature with fake gestures and enough worries to coat his tongue.

•••

With his expectations for acknowledgment quickly affirmed when the human turns to him, Asmo preens even more when addressed.

"Your fairness does not compare to the tales I've heard of it, Lord Asmodeus."

The human moves in a gesture to show honesty, but the lord of lust isn't paying it any mind. His focus is tunneled on the compliment and cuteness.

I want them.

It is a primal urge, the same nature as the ones that make him slaughter to bathe in gore and gain energy with each person he beds. In human terms, it could be called "cuteness aggression," but in demonic terms, it is a creeping, choking sort of grabbing compulsion. The model cannot help the squeal that leaves him.

"What a charming human! Belphie, your pet's so polite. Now, sweetie, you can me Asmo. All those formalities are a drag, you know?"

He notices how the human grows a bit more stiff and alarmed when he leans in. It's only natural in the face of such brilliance. He'll help them get used to it. They obviously have great tastes. A wink will suffice for now, since Ewa seems to wish to greet all the avatars. When they smile and wink back, he wants to take a nibble.

•••

The avatar of wrath is patiently waiting for his unique greeting from the interesting human.

"Lord Satan," Ewa hesitates for a few heartbeats and drops the smile for a clear expression, "thank you for locating me earlier. Though I was confused and standoffish, you explained things patiently and ensured my safety. I forgot to express my gratitude in the moment."

I was not…ah. This-

His face itches, and he wants to avert his gaze. When's the last time someone looked him straight in the eyes and gave their thanks? It's so refreshingly direct that he doesn't know what to do about it.

With a cough, he replies, "It's not a problem. I was simply the closest at the time."

Ewa nods back, the smallest hint of quirk in her lips. The gratitude rings in his head.

•••

They said I just needed to be here to see her! She's gonna talk to me?! I'm next in line. Abort mission! Every man for themselves! I probably look an ugly awkward nerd and-

"Considering your name, would you prefer I shortened it?"

NO, I WOULD PREFER TO NOT BE PERCEIVED— well, yes, uhm, what? Why's the human talking to me differently than them? Am I that weird? I probably do look that weird.

"I do prefer Levi."

He looks away after that brief moment of contact, the attention impossibly too much for him. Levi wishes to disappear.

Floors should open whenever the person above them asks mentally. It would be useful for a reject like me to leave and not have anyone have to deal with my awful presence.

"Well then, avatar of envy," the voice is almost kind, "I hope you do not find my presence uncomfortable. I am a human who keeps to oneself."

Finally, one has stopped looking at me.

•••

Mammon doesn't want formalities and lets the child of companion know so as soon as he addresses him formally, not even letting him say more than his name before cutting him off.

"Just Mammon," he informs.

Ewa carries on without missing a beat, "I have heard many tales of you in the human realm, but I must say none quite grasp. Since you know my parent well enough to have had a grasp of my soul in advance, I hope we can find commonalities as well."

He grows concerned when his face twitches, but Ewa does not appear to be in pain. The urge to hover in a way never permitted with his brothers creeps into him.

So this is his heir. Sounds like he thinks of me enough to mention me to Ewa. He has his father's blank look when he's not talking to someone yet none of his expressions. How did he manage to stay with someone long enough to have a child come to be?

The guilt of his contract lurks within his mind, gnawing away at him. Ewa looks so breakable. He's not small by any human standards, but there's something so fragile about his magic. He frets when the human approaches Lucifer.

Isn't he tired?

•••

Lucifer is mildly impressed by the display of fluent yet formal demonic tongue and consideration of each of his siblings. It was unexpected but interesting. Yet, the eldest cannot help but feel doubtful as well. The human is experienced and knowledgeable in ways he had no resources to track and is spinning circles around them with words. Finding a flaw in her manner of speech is more than difficult. It irks him.

Was this a mistake?

Her stare towards him a few seconds before speaking is sharp in a way he is unused to from another.

"Lord Lucifer."

She addresses him slower than she had with the others. Staring, staring, staring—the face does not blink.

Is she expecting me to say something just because she said my name? Her gaze bores into my face. Hurry up and speak! We have places to be going after this. Homework and paperwork to be done…

Her magic is shifting, the previously ignorable essence now crawling across her shoulders and back like an affectionate pet tarantula. Her face flickers to something perceptive.

"You raised very fine brothers. I will do my best to help the youngest gem."

How does she know?

Ewa's gentle expression doesn't fool Lucifer. This is obviously a show of power, of knowledge. No one unfamiliar with them would say such a thing, and no human has ever been close enough to have that train of thought. Not even the meddling Solomon used such terms easily.

"How do you know that?"

The eldest lets her know of the threat he is willing to retaliate with. He didn't try once to make himself less intimidating. If she cannot handle him, how will she handle the baby of the family? His mind and released fate depend on this human. Of course, he'll judge her as harshly as he needs to keep her from complacency-

Her eyes dart towards Satan. The stiffness of her form makes the elder wonder what they discussed on their way here. She seemed most comfortable with his brother who gives the barest formalities to beings he does not know.

I did spawn him.

The thought makes an affectionate and tired feeling well up in him. "Great job raising" is the last thing they would say about his manner of keeping them in line, but…

"I see."

The eldest will brush it off this time. Her tongue is talented in getting her out of situations.

How long will your eloquence last you?

Chapter Text

The travel to their "house"—it is a mansion—is a blur. I will have to ask the essence the specifics later, for I was not paying attention. The moment I enter the room where the former exchange student once slept and hear the brothers' footsteps leave, my mind lets the spiral its been threatening for over an hour begin. I'm surprised I held it so long. Last time such a drastic change occurred, I was locked in a state of magic diffusion until a friendly witch decided to help me through the breakdown. Though that was when my parents got into a fight to the death and Dad won. It's no surprise my younger self couldn't take the stress.

I walk to the bed and feel the sheets with trembling hands. They're soft, comfortable enough to not scrape or itch against my skin as I crawl into the bedding and curl up with the blankets around my limbs. I know demons have super hearing, but I really, really, really hope that they can't hear my unstable breathing and beginning sobs. Dealing with the lords in this state would be unbearable, and I still have a grasp of my magic. It seems more fixated on protecting me and layering every nook and cranny of the room than spiraling out to attack. It must not feel endangered. I don't feel scared right now, just so overwhelmed.

Thank the reapers that it's nighttime and the brothers have to sleep. Noises right now would add to the sensory overload mixing with the emotional overload. I wrap myself a bit more securely and form a semblance of my favorite stuffed figure with my magic, unable to be touched by another but feeling the same as the last time I had it in my arms. I don't want to let myself let my feelings out fully; it will just get worse. Processing without another trustworthy magic user nearby means calming and distracting.

Humming a tune and playing with the toy is a good center of focus. My noise is broken and off-key due to the state of my throat from the crying and breathing. With my eyes closed, I can focus on my one sense being stimulated. The blankets are warm from my body heat, contrasting the cooling sensation a blanketing magic brings. I let the shield around my new room reconnect with my senses an iota of space at a time. The wood here is pretty old. It is alive as well. I wonder if the foliage was a comfort to the person who slept here. I wonder if the vegetation was already in the room or added to give a touch of the human world? The lights hanging at almost random yet in some sort of pendalogue order all connect to magic. I use a spell to tinker with the dangling things above and behind me.

This tree is from the human world.

•••

The center is muted both in receiving and giving, words around and inside of him staying where they are. I would give her full awareness. I would, but the eldest is approaching this room with a discomfort of some sort and intent on talking to Ewa. I will speak in their place for tonight. He won't know I'm us. No one ever does.

•••

Lucifer's skin prickles. Unfamiliar magic itches in the direction of the bedrooms.

Could it be Belphegor's human?

The label of address is darkly ironic in his mind. Belphegor is the last demon who would want a human connected to him, yet he is the one who got an emotional support companion to help with his hatred. Finishing his paperwork before following the irritant, he walks to Ewa's room. The magic is stronger the closer that he gets, but the quality of it changes. Rather than a prickle, it begins to stab at his skin like a bur caught in a skin-tight shirt.

This is aversion magic. What threat could she have encountered to feel the need to cast a repellent rather than a shield?

The avatar of pride is well acquainted with repellent spells. Mammon dabbled in research of them when he heard wind it made people deterred from going to certain areas, but the spell he learned was one made for less intelligent creatures than Lucifer. All it did was cause a foul smell in half of the House of Lamentation. Lucifer had put him on cleaning duty until the smell was abolished from every corner of the house. The books he confiscated proved quite intriguing, and he would leisurely read of the studies the author had done in their explorations of the topic.

Arriving at the door, he knocks. The sensation caused by the action makes him take a step back. The door shocked him. The feeling is similar to lighting, both shocking and burning. Lucifer releases his aura more than usual from its strict confinement. It brushes against the magic exploringly. Aura is usually used to present oneself strongly or make a distinctive statement, but in this case, he is using it to interact with the human's magic. Magic can be hostile to other magic when used for defense, but aura is neither physical nor nonphysical while containing elements of both. Aura is what registers as another being to defensive magic; while offensive magic seeks it to attack.

"What do you here, fallen heaven-born? Why approach with such caution when your strength more than rivals this shield?"

The magic is wary but unhostile, indicating that the trigger for the defensive stance was not an external danger. The eldest has a brief feeling of relief enter him.

"Your trails wind around my abode. You could wake the less patient of my brothers and cause your master to be distressed further."

It does not respond. Lucifer has half a mind to undo the spell by force—it's wasting his time—but he knows that physical harm to the human may affect his brother in a second-hand way, though not directly as it would if he hurt them. The magic is quite polite too, much like the docile human had shown to be. Suddenly, the sting and itch both vanish from the air. Lucifer did not notice that the sensations made him tense until they were gone.

"Is this sufficient subtlety, lord of pride?"

He sighs, "Yes, though I would appreciate to know what stressed your master in the first place, I doubt you would tell me."

"You seem respectful, though your aura is quite domineering. Fine, we shall say as we cannot."

The wording is strange.

"We broke out quite rapidly from them, so we do not know how they currently fare—that is the job of the inward pulse—but the body wanted none to see it. The senses needed to be less heightened as well. We do as we need to ensure safety, and they need quiet and stability. Nobody can hear either way, not even us. That is what we do until our sources reaches out for us again."

The tenses of referring to its source and itself confuses Lucifer. There is only one human. "They" is a singular at times, but "we" and "us" never are.

"How many do you number?"

The magic does not respond. The hum of its existence is still there, but it does not seem to want to answer. He finds the absurdity of waiting immediately. He does not know why he is wasting time here. The problem is solved, and he has to rest. Tuning on his heel, he walks back to his room. Neither he nor the magic notice a glowing pair of eyes around the corner that disappear as he does.

•••

This is just like the anime "How Many Guests?!: The Tenant That Triples Every Night." I never see Lucifer talking to magic like that!

Leviathan is gasping with excitement when he enters his room again. The human is strikingly fascinating. He sleeps with dreams of shifting humans and an amatueur detective landlord.

Chapter Text

Belphegor hears when the unfamiliar step of feet stops before his door, but he is perplexed when they do no more than that. The being does not move for a decent amount of time, though he cannot track the passage of it with his eyes closed. Mammon's dragging steps and questioning voice sounds out, but he does not let himself be aware enough to hear it all. It is only when Beel starts moving around and goes to wash up and back that he is forced to rouse.

"Belphie, your human's waiting for you?" his brother's voice sounds questioningly from the doorway.

"It's really not a problem, Lord Beelzebub. He is the lord of sloth. If he's sleeping, that's expected," its hatefully false tones grate on every single one of Belphegor's nerves.

"You've been standing here for a hour," he can feel his twin's mounting confusion and awkwardness, "I have to wake him for breakfast anyways."

"As you say. I don't want to be the reason he is disturbed."

"I'm not getting up myself," he replies to the second topic of discussion and ignores the first, "My legs hurt from having to walk to school twice yesterday."

Beel knows that he's making excuses, simply accepts the fact, and comes to his own solution.

"Okay."

He's heaved onto his brother's shoulder and brought towards the direction of the kitchen. Beel's pace is the most familiar to him. The other brothers rarely carry him, Lucifer surprisingly being the second most frequent then followed by the others in rarity. They seldom used to do anything of the sort before… They only started because Lilith's death made him the youngest. They needed someone to dote on. He hates the affection when it's that reason. He's not the real youngest, and everyone knows it.

Belphegor opens his eyes when he processes through his dozing that four feet are walking (and his twin hasn't changed forms). The human is trotting behind Beelzebub and somehow keeping up.

"Why is this thing here?"

"Are you referring to me in third person or addressing your twin, Lord Belphegor?" it pipes up.

"I don't care," he drawls with mild annoyance at being woken up and full displeasure at being talked to by a disgusting human, "but if you want to answer, get it over with."

"I have no idea as to your sleeping habits or if there even are any and decided getting up early and waiting outside your room was a better option than expecting you to seek me out yourself. Considering that my presence is only viewed as a better alternative to being imprisoned, there was a chance that you would intentionally evade me."

It's so formal that it's sickening.

"Do you plan to follow me the whole day?"

"Yes sir," it smiles, "Though not under extensive research, I do know the duties of an emotional support creature. I shall not leave your side other than for your privacy."

What in the rings of hell did my brothers and Lord Diavolo sign me up for?

He does not grace the earthling with a reply.

•••

When Satan enters the library, the first individual he sees is Belphegor, taking a nap on the chair and side table despite having woken up less than three hours ago for breakfast.

Typical Belphie.

The second individual he sees is Ewa, browsing the shelves and occasionally glancing in the sleeping avatar's direction. Satan ignores both beings in favor of sinking into the other free chair and cracking open the latest mystery novel he bought from a human realm trader. The passage of time means nothing to him, only the passage of chapters.

He's roughly a hundred pages in before a persistent noise makes him look up. On the second floor is the human, lowering books to the table in front of him gingerly but seemingly unable to keep the spell long enough to place them gently, hence the thuds. She looks at him with slight alarm before signing a perfect "I didn't mean to disturb, apologies" and walking to the stairs with at least a dozen more books in her arms. His brow furrows.

She knows the instinct language in a wraith accent?

He had studied the unspoken language when he learned its use and ease. He hates to waste words, and a few gestures done out of instinct wouldn't distract him from his reading. Most demons use only the slang when talking with their hands, for it is natural to them. Dubbed "the instinct language" (or Devildom Sign Language when speaking in another tongue), it is harder to teach a non-resident of the Devildom. The former angels had some difficulty learning even the slang at first due to the odd contrast between the Celestial signs and Devildom signs, the former being an independently crafted language with only one set of signs due to the infrequency of use in a realm where almost any infirmity can be healed. They picked it up with time at the academy. The odd part is that Ewa's signing has a specter's accent to it. Only learning sign from a being who passed on or being dead yourself would result in that. The context signs and time signs could be excused from a quick chat, but the symbol for disturbance would not come easily from only seeing it a few times. It's a very quick symbol due to the meaning changing based on the amount of time you spend doing the gesture. Done too shortly, it means interrupt. Done for too long, it means agitation.

Torn between the mystery of his book and the mystery that is the new resident of his home, he continues to watch her actions. She walks differently than he had observed her walk before, a sort of sliding that minimizes noise. Despite how drolly weak it is, her magic is constantly moving, some of it zipping around her form like an energetic Little D and some assisting her studies. She is studying despite the odd manner of it. Multiple books float around her as she scribbles notes, which is in a tongue that has her doing the action from right to left. His eyes scan the covers of the books she has chosen.

Demon Form Grooming: A Complete Encyclopedia; What Begins A Whisper?: Rumors Yet Tales of the Devildom; Signs of Period and Heat; An Intermediate's Guide to Soul Manipulation; The Evolution of the Demonic Tongues and Dialects; Seven Sins, Subordinates, And Lordship (How The Great Celestial War Affected Devildom History); Sloth—A Comprehensive Guide; Beginner Devildom Law

I forgot that we had some of those books it's been so many centuries.

A singular paper falls out of her notebook. She casts a squirrelly glance towards both demons in the room and stuffs it back inside, a whisper of an adhesion chant leaving her lips. He sees the iota of magic move, not only sticking it but sealing it.

Does she possibly have a magic dysfunction to keep it so visible? It borders color. Why have it so close to tangibility?

Nothing noteworthy happens until she swaps out books beneath the avatar of sloth's head. All of the titles relation (On The Manner of Royalty; Encyclopedia of Demonic Monarchy; Governing of the Devildom) indicate she may have placed them there before he fell asleep.

"When did you find time to fit three books beneath me?" Belphie grouches and stretches, "And stop staring at me. It's disturbing my sleep."

"You had five at one point. I have been swapping out…" she picks them all up and puts them on the table, "Lord Belphegor, you have not slept for one second since entering this room. Your consciousness has been fully aware."

How-

"Are you staring into my mind?" he accuses, obviously itching for a fight.

"No, Lord Belphegor. I would not be serving you well to intrude upon your mind. You already hate my species. It is contradictory to give you more reason to."

Every time she addresses him she turns fully to him, but the moment she ceases speaking she continues flipping through books in a non-immersive way. Her skill for multitasking is impressive.

"Scum of the earth."

"Noted, sir."

She uses the general honorific for a demon lord, comically attached to the end. Satan snickers. He was trying to keep the noises of amusement down, but it bursts forth despite his mask. Their eyes on him makes him reign it in once more to avoid an increase of agitation in his younger brother.

"You add the polite tense before the verb if using the acknowledgment form," he corrects the linguistic error and widens his smirk, "Have you been following him since breakfast, Ewa?"

The memory of the human in the dining room sitting beside Belphie then in front of him then trailing behind him fills his head. He wasn't sure how they would work out, but the clever human found a way to firmly attach to his brother without the avatar being able to escape yet not breaking any rules of etiquette. Even her formalities do not miss a beat.

"No, I have been following him since Lord Beelzebub carried him out of his room. It took me roughly twenty minutes to find his room and familiarize myself with the path from mine to his. I was only waiting for him to rouse for a couple of hours."

"Humans are so damn creepy!" Belphie hisses and stands up, stomping off, "Stop clinging to my heels!"

"You want me to not linger behind you?"

"Yes!"

Ewa nods despite the fact that the avatar of sloth cannot see her and begins to levitate. A quick mutter later, she attaches to the ceiling, sticking with as much ease as a lizard. Satan coughs at the unexpectedness of it. Belphie did not notice and looks behind him.

"Where is it?"

"…"

He'll figure it out eventually.

Chapter Text

Mammon had a day full of modeling shoots planned because of his unavailability the following afternoon. He slips back home a bit before dinner in order to sneak into his room. He doesn't want anyone to bring up the undone Devildom Botany homework he misplaced somewhere in the house. A small hope inside of him thinks of Beel eating it by chance. However, he forgets all subtlety (that he was absolutely acing) when he notices the human crawling on the ceiling above where Belphie naps in the foyer.

"Oi, Ewa, waddaya doin' up there?" he yells, startling awake his brother who looks equally shocked at her location.

"Lord Belphegor told me to stop clinging to his heels so I decided to give him some space!" he beams down at him, his glee shining as he bounces on the ceiling.

"Get down! Your species are breakable, ya reckless human!"

You sound worried, you idiot. He's going to notice and take a jab at you for it.

"N- not that I ca-"

"Thank you for your concern, Lor- Mammon, but the only thing that could take me off of this ceiling is a magic user stronger than me casting a double gravity spell. Considering his hesitation to even touch me, I do not think the one demon who would will be doing it anytime soon."

The sleepy demon tsks in response to the indirect mention, inching to the back of the couch to continue his nap.

The human didn't notice or didn't care? Good either way. I don't think Belphie heard me acting concerned either. I'm not, not really. I just have an old ass promise, and I keep my word. That's all.

"If you break your little head, don't blame me."

I'll blame myself.

"I will make sure to not break my head. I am unsure my chances of survival if I shed blood in a house full of demons, unless… Am I thinking about hellhounds?"

"Ew, I don't wanna eat ya!"

Just the thought is enough to make his stomach lurch.

Who knows what Ushar's spawn would have in his blood?

"Is that a common sentiment?" he asks the demon as he sits with his legs crossed, panting from his unnecessary aerobics.

"You'll be fine in the house, with the exception of Beel. He'll eat anything near his mouth. If ya plan on ever traveling around the city though…" the avatar of greed shrugs.

"Lo- Mammon, I am fairly certain that you avatars are always experiencing your sin to some extent. You are demons. It is only natural for you to be like that."

"Like that," huh?

"Hey, I ain't no lowlife!" he involuntarily bristles, "Being greedy doesn't mean anything like that. Don't you dare look down on any of us!"

Ewa clears his throat and detaches from the ceiling. Mammon hurries to catch him.

This is a slow ass jump.

Realizing the heir's intentional lowering belatedly and not willing to look like an idiot, he stays there and holds him when he finally makes it down. Ewa sits in his arms and doesn't move.

"Didn't Satan say ya recoiled from being touched…?" he mutters.

"I would like to see you appreciate being held by a strange being with immense powers lying inside of him and with the knowledge that you have been captured in a setup but nothing else to go by," Ewa protests, "I am very physically affectionate if I know the person to be safe and comfortable."

He drops him like an unpaid invoice, maybe ensuring he doesn't land badly, but it is a quick action nonetheless.

"Affection who?! I'm not doing any of that! I just didn't want my brother's human to go splat! Nononono, I never said anything about a bond; we don't even know each other!"

"As friendly as it appears you're being to the new resident of our home, Mammon, I'm very sure you have a more pressing matter concerning your Devildom Botany."

He doesn't need to look behind him to know the hand is going to reach fast enough to grab his collar before he can sidestep the human he ironically placed in his own way. He still lunges away.

"Don't make so much racket if you don't wish to be caught. I know about your undone assignment you left in the hallway plant."

Lucifer's grip pulls him towards the source of his blunder.

"Noooooo, it's to help the homework, I swear!" he yelps, "Botany is the study of plants, and putting it in the hallway plant is logical because it would make the paper easier to do if exposed to plant life first!"

Even I know this is dumb. The paper has to be enchanted to make that work.

"Our papers are made out of plants, Mammon. More importantly, this isn't the first missed slip of botany homework. It sounds like you need tutoring again."

"Gaaaaah!"

Ewa waves with an odd expression on his face.

"Ewa, come to my room later. I have something to discuss with you."

His lip purses, "What is it about, Lord Lucifer?"

"I'll tell you when you get there," the eldest sighs as if answering is beneath him.

He probably thinks so.

"I shall have to decline then, sir."

Excuse-

"Excuse me?"

Pride's voice is low, synonymous to dangerous. The human looks almost bored with the edge of the knife he is dancing on. Mammon would not sweat on a human's behalf, and any additional perspiration to add to the drops he only developed because of Lucifer (and definitely not stressing about the safety of this fragile creature with no sense of magic awareness) is because his brother's fouler temper meant things get dicier for him. It's not worry that makes him speak, just duty and caring about himself.

"Ewa, I dunno if you're clueless or just bad at getting cues, but that wasn't a question."

Please please please please please get the hint. I really don't want to have to make choices.

The grip holds his collar as firmly as always, but Lucifer's attention has been split between him and the human. He's not pissed off yet, but the threat is there.

"Indeed. It wasn't," the eldest scoffs.

"L- Mammon," Ewa ignores his brother a second time, "I am aware that it was not a question. That is why I responded in the manner that I did. The only authority he has concerning me is as the head of this household, for I am a resident, and even that is indeterminate. If it is a household matter, he could say that with ease. He refused, and I do not follow dangerous creatures to isolated areas upon their request because they tell me to."

"You dare challenge me?"

Mammon is dropped unceremoniously. He backs up to see an angle he can scoop the human out of this. Nothing gets Lucifer riled up like a perceived threat to his authority, his pride. Surely a human who dabbles so much in demonic culture as to know the language and speak an archaic version of it fluently would know when he goes too far.

"You are the one challenging the crown prince of the Devildom, the demon who owns my soul."

What the crow, the heir has his sire's balls of steel.

The lord of pride internally cringes and outwardly bristles at the accusation. There's a hesitation lined with umbrage in his movements. The urge to beat the insolent human into submission is threatened by the statement.

"Elaborate," he replies, "You will regret it if this is a waste of time."

Lucifer has no qualms in letting his simmering temper add to the intimidation factor towards the human who has bared its fangs so early in her stay here. He would find it amusing if not for the excessive insolence.

Just as nuisance-prone as that cursed exchange student. This is why this one is staying inside.

Ewa scrunches her face thrice before speaking, "I am in the service of the Lord of Sloth under the orders of the current acting ruler of the Devildom and no one else. To have the temerity to think my time is at your disposal is a blatant disrespect to your superior who has me assigned elsewhere. He did not give you access to any of my resources. Unless it has to do with my job, I will not be giving you a yod."

Lucifer is speechless. His lips part to retort, but nothing comes out. He wants to flame. His demon form strains to be released. Twice this human has woven a tapestry without any sort of personal knowledge about their surroundings. Twice this weak being has taunted him with a show of power. To strike now with two of his brothers as witness and the damning words ringing would mean insubordination. He-

"Lord Lucifer, is it or is it not a household matter or something concerning my stay or job here?"

To affirm or even answer is like a defeat. So be it. This is a declaration of challenge.

"It's job related."

"I shall see you after dinner," she nods.

He looks away from his source of stress and addresses the next matter, "Belphie, don't forget that you're cooking today."

"Most of the stuff is already prepped unless Beel raided the back of the fridge," his response is muffled by the cushion he flopped back onto.

As for my other brother-

It is unnatural for Mammon to have stayed. He is notorious for leaving others to pick up his slack or using any opportunity to dart. Instead, he's gaping at Ewa as if she is going to suddenly break her leg where she stands. Lucifer doesn't see why he's so concerned. Her gaze scans the demons around her with what the lord of pride knows is feigned boredom. The analytical intensity cannot be hidden from him. Her mind and tongue are hidden in a sheath.

"Lord Belphegor."

"What?" he growls.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

"Whatever, shoo."

She vanishes as if she was never there to begin with, steps quiet and quick. His brother's gaze followed the girl, giving the eldest an easy opening to grab the slacker once more.

"You can get started on that homework before dinner."

"I'm busy!"

He slips out of his jacket and darts. Lucifer mentally curses his carelessness due to the human distraction.

"MAAAAAMMOOON!"

Chapter Text

I throw up the moment I enter my bathroom. My magic is itching to reform me, to purify itself, to disappear. We are crying again, again, again. There are no tears, but there are too many tears at the cloths of my mind. It felt like I was going to die. He wanted to hurt me in a way that would leave a mark. He wanted to hurt me in a way that would scar me. Death and torture are not new concepts to me, to us. I handled corpses since childhood and heard stories of gore before I could speak. If this happened in the morning rather than the evening, it would roll off of me. But it's right before dinner, and my service is almost "over." I know my metaphorical waterskin. (I use it to describe the energy I can direct towards people who are not close.) It is near empty by this time of night. I might have to put up the beginning emergency measures for a few hours if anything happens towards me during dinner.

He sees me as a challenge for some reason. Do I look like I want your job, Lord of Pride? I just got here, and I have no desires for pacts.

My mouth is being wiped, but it takes my brain a few seconds to catch up to the fact that it is my hands which do so. I missed the chamber pot by a long shot. I do not know what helps more with cleaning me up, my magic or my involuntary movements. It is all that I can do to keep another wave of bile where it belongs. My motions are mechanical and detached. I know that I am cleaning the floor, but the reality is a cold stone of fact rather than a warm and fluid feeling. Reality is colder than the floor of this washroom and more foreign than the very kingdom I have been pushed into. The rinsing of my mouth perks me up enough to quietly acknowledge what has transposed without another round of stomach purge.

They have scat for labor ethics here.

Snickering at the joke in the style of my mother's sister, I clean my hands. Picking up the hand towel makes me remember what I placed beneath it, a note hidden in the library that belonged to the only non-demon who had stayed in this abode. Its edges are the slightest bit frayed from time and the way it had been shaped, not a full paper but one made square by tearing it from a larger work. My mind wanders to my reason for being here before I dissuade myself from facing the hostilities so soon.

It's Lord Belphegor's turn to cook according to the head of the house. I have time, and the job of the day is completed. No one will think it odd for me to be gone for less than an hour.

Perusing texts is a calming pastime. At the moment, distraction is better than a coping mechanism. Abba's books are far away from here. I'm not safe enough to take a form that would calm me. It's not safe to be me. The closest feelings to comfort are the intrigued Satan and guilty Mammon. Their unrevealed intents are not security. Seeing through someone does not mean they are mentally prepared to accept what they hold inside.

My eyes look at the scribbled note, sighing when I recognize English and muttering a translation spell for the Roman alphabet.

What are the chances that the language of that meddling nation would be spoken by the exchange student? At least there's some official speech (官話) too. It's been a good bit since I've been to middle country (中国).

I read from the top and try to analyze the words I have never seen as I watch the translation take place.

I can see why Satan absorbs himself inside of books so often. The library is the only quiet area of the House of Lamentation. Whether by his force or simply because the others are not the reading sorts, it's a respite from the bitterness.

I'm lonely.

These demons seem to hate me yet tug on my emotions and attentions like a rag doll. I want to go back home. Nobody asked if I wanted this…

sadness sadness sadness grief

I blink hard at the translation of the characters and look at the originals.

That is not what they say in…

"These symbols are different. They never have loops in this manner. The language does not change."

My brow wrinkles. This is not the language of the country whose people who have grown rice for millennia. This is wrong. The exchange student does not use official speech. Unfortunately, my translation spell cannot tell me what speech it is, only cross the borders between my understanding and the text.

"She has laid not an egg," I sigh in disappointment concerning both the vagueness of the note and the new mystery of what other tongue uses characters I know for a civilization old enough that my father cares for the language, "I went to the chicken, but her nest was bare."

"Are you expressing disappointment?"

"Yes, sorry to rouse you to be present."

"I am only awake to sift through the memories."

My magic curls into my head and wraps like a shayla. It's filling and familiar, comparable to a headscarf in comfort yet not a stinging reminder. One must want the memories to help my processing and to understand it from a human perspective. It is not an uncommon occurrence if the incident is of enough importance surrounding my safety. Most who know of us will assume we always know what the other is doing or thinking or saying, but we develop as much independently as we do together. Expressions and figures of speech are not something the essence can comprehend in any way but how a being would read a dictionary reference.

"Center"

"Not today, please."

I can't stand being less than me from my own self. Half the demons that I interacted with today call me other with their forms of address. Lord Belphegor repeatedly throws me into segregation territory, and the way Lord Lucifer uses his verbiage is downright condescending. I would prefer to be insulted.

Can I just be us today?

They hum in acknowledgment and change address, "Ewa"

"Mmyep?" I croak, voice strained from the stress sinking in.

"Are you sure that you do not want to call Abba? He will come get us no matter what realm we are in. He promised blood, Ewa."

Tears sting our eyes, "My circuit, this is a hard bargain. Mama is gone forever. Abba can never stay. I know not which of my antecedents made this oath, but no demon will trust the one that remains to keep a promise in return for my soul. He is a warlock. He can break oaths in ways that nature forbids," my arms stretch, paper quivering at the action, "I will be keeping humans from another massacre and assisting the government of another realm while gaining the experience needed to perceive the most powerful demons in existence. I don't have my father's strength, but I inherited his brilliance. I'm getting my soul back with the powers I have. Abba may tell me of their full extent, but it's impossible to use them for anything but destruction in the Human Realm. Here is different."

"Fools initiate their deaths by causing you distress to begin with. Stealing away any that Abba holds dear is foolishness. These demons should be mauled, Greed permanently incapacitated."

My magic increases denseness and slides beneath me. I release my muscles from their duty accordingly. The combined actions give the sensation of floating when I simply cling to a mass.

"I have none of the foolishness of someone in power. Let me play risky. I am my father's child. We are the heir. He will be home when he is home, and we will be found within a week of his arrival."

"It is so. I have seen and heard. Away with speech. You know me."

One melts against my skin, sending feelings at its leisure. The speech in my native tongue calmed me. I hope the youngest lord does not try to poison me with whatever he prepares. He will be disappointed. (That may cause a mood swing.) After a few more minutes of quiet, I am composed enough to attend the evening meal.

•••

His brothers chattered at dinner without acknowledgment of his tensions—not an uncommon occurrence, as unreadable as they claim he is. The only reminder of earlier is Mammon's anxious glance towards his departing form, darting between his older brother and the human.

How well did he know the warlock to make him concerned for their spawn?

He has been pondering that thought since the almost-incident this afternoon. So well-behaved yet already taxing his mind with daring—

There is a knock on his door, "Ewa knocks."

"You may enter."

Ewa's eyes absorb everything but him the moment they enter. He sighs. The break between interactions with her was long enough to cool his temper. He'll be damned if a human has him lose his composure twice in one day. At the end of it, he holds more power and authority. He'll relish in watching it squirm when he finally puts it in its place.

"Ewa, this household is dangerous."

"Considering that you were thinking about making me eat my own tongue earlier and you are the one in charge, I would say so."

Does this human have a death wish? Surely, she does. There is no other way they would have agreed to deal with Belphegor so easily. Does she find this amusing? Is she trying to to get a rise out of me?

"Let me finish speaking, human."

They sign an affirmation—when did she catch on to the instinct language?—and pet the magic that is tensed up on their shoulders. Lucifer cannot understand why anyone would willingly leave their powers unconstrained considering the mite of energy that it is. He is sure that she knows how to hold it inside of themselves. It did that when answering him the day that they arrived.

She'll be dead in a week at this rate.

"As I was saying, you should be careful. Don't let my brothers' lack of hostility fool you. You're in a household of demons. They have no chance for your soul, but there are plenty of other things that a human can or does possess that a demon may desire."

He scans its reaction to see if anything is absorbing. The impudent bored expression paints their face as she stares at the hearth. He wonders if speaking in the Devildom's tongue does not impress the urgency as strongly upon the human. Just because a person can speak well does not mean that they understand it with the strength that a language more familiar to them would carry. From report of her actions, he knows that this is the first time she has ever been in the Devildom. She does not appear to have any pacts, which may indicate that she did not learn the language from a demonic source at all. It would be both remarkable and alarming if a demon was able to slip to the Human World for the length of time required to grant Ewa her fluency without one of the powers over soon teleportation between realms to have detected it. The language is infinitely convoluted to any non-native species due to the centuries it takes to master it. Its rules are only updated once every millennium.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you if you're not paying attention," he stands up, "You may leave."

"Am I allowed to speak now?"

You're meant to acknowledge, not reply.

He grunts, "Go on and be quick."

"I heard everything that you said. Just…" their brow furrows, "Do you always use trees that scream for firewood?"

Lucifer is taken aback by the statement. The wood is just wood. There's nothing special about it beyond its aromatic properties. He bought it from a local trader. If anything, it's so normal that he didn't even worry about it after the initial looking it over that he does with anything that enters a house with seven of the ruling lords.

"What do you mean?"

"I may be wrong. I cannot hear souls as well as my maternal figure, but it has been screaming this entire time. Wanting only a kind word but being reduced to fuel…" she shakes her head, "Good night."

What…what did it mean by that?

Chapter Text

I cannot wait to see what the Royal Academy of Diavolo is like. Considering that I haven't received any sort of uniform yet (though a moderate amount of clothing presumably taken from my home lies in my closet), I dress comfortably and follow my assigned demon to breakfast. Lord Lucifer is sipping black coffee with toast in hand. Lord Belphegor falls asleep on his own toast, the rest of his breakfast consumed by his twin. Mammon and Lord Satan are either extremely late or already left. Lord Asmo seems to be on call with someone he has flirtatious relations with (he does seem to flirt with everyone though). The moment he ends it, I speak.

"How long do you guys walk to school, and am I getting a uniform too?"

All attentions turn towards me, but the eldest's expression in reply makes two of the intents go elsewhere. He composes himself before replying.

"You will be staying at home during the school day. Do not enter any personal rooms, and do not try to wander on your own. You have a good chance of dying considering your magical abilities."

Despite his neutral expression, I can feel his loftiness. Belphegor snickers, adding to my confusion. This is a similar sensation to the ones that I experienced from the kids who my dad killed. He said they were bullying me. Only, I don't think this is bullying, just the feelings that the bullies had. I'm… I don't know. It's not often than I converse with peers. That was the only time that I remember my father killing anyone under the age of 20.

"Great, I was afraid it'd stalk me all the way to class," the lord of sloth gets out of his seat and heads towards the entrance hall, "Beel, you can have my toast. I already ate the other piece before my nap."

The house is soon vacated, leaving me with too much free time. I sit in a daze for an indeterminable amount of time, rolling the interaction around in my head.

At least I can manage my waterskin better…how long is school? Should I keep a timer?

Both my magic and I let out sounds of merriment at that joke. I inherited my father's sense of time, which is non-existent.

Home alone, does that mean I can make a racket?

I haven't felt a single intent since the last of the brothers left. Unless there is someone hiding on another floor with wishes to not be seen, there is no one here. I let out a few loud trills in test.

No call back, no response. I can scream!

I do just that, letting out a frustration I had suppressed. I would curse in demonic to straighten my grammar, but another realization distracts that train of thought.

I can roll on the floor. I can wear stuff that doesn't match based on how comfortably it fits- no, I'll save that one for when I know how much free time I have. I can shift!

Being able to cast magic with minimum to non-existent preliminary actions is considered advanced, but I've done it my entire life. My magic is my friend, my sibling, part of me. All I need is a thought or request to have them assist me. She does so without me needing to ask most of the time. One is me.

Which creature do you remember the spell to transform back from?

"Tapir."

That one then!

My eyesight is made poor, and my sense of smell and hearing is amplified in moments. It takes a few minutes for my muscles to fully adjust. I trot to a comfortable spot near the planetarium to doze off. I'll visit the garden later.