Chapter Text
Why was Alastor here?
To kill the King. To get paid enough to live two lives comfortably. And return to his mother.
That was his mission. He knew that.
Yet, here he lay, on this cot in the castle infirmary. The one person he was told to kill sits at his bedside in a shared silence neither seems willing to break. There’s a noticeable tension lingering in the air. It's thick and could be cut with a knife. Alastor isn’t sure of the reason.
Lucifer has procured a book from one of the shelves in the room that held some reading material. But he didn’t seem too engrossed in it, as he’d been on the same page for over 20 minutes. And he was in the center of the book. The title was written in a language he didn’t understand nor recognize. He wondered…how many languages did Lucifer speak?
Alastor - bored out of his mind - had settled for staring at various things in the room, mainly the King. The most interesting thing in said room. If the man noticed he was ignoring him. He was the picture of poise in this moment, one leg folded over the other. A hand delicately holding the book at the bottom of his spine. The other was resting on his lap.
The more chances he gets to truly look at Lucifer, the more things he notices. Like how there are very subtle freckles along his cheeks. Small and barely there. Then there are the dark circles under his misty blue eyes. Or how smooth and flawless his skin looks. His face was delicate, and he could pass for a woman if he so chose. Even his hands - while not dainty - were smaller, and they looked smooth to the touch.
His fingers twitch against the mattress. The feeling of silky smooth skin pressed against his hand burned into every facet of his mind.
He doesn’t quite understand it, why he’s suddenly felt a yearning for the King’s presence since their spat. The feeling is unpleasant; it makes something warm in him spread through his veins without his permission. He feels sick whenever this happens. A nauseous feeling settles in the pit of his stomach as he debates if he can claw his way through his chest and rip the strange feeling out. He’s never felt anything quite like it, and it's rather disturbing.
It must be some form of Stockholm syndrome. That was it. Being trapped here with none of his usual company to speak to or his mother, he must be growing….he must be missing them.
Mom.
He frowns; he hopes she’s doing well. Hopes she got the letter that was sent out. Hopes she isn’t worrying too much about him.
He would kill the king, somehow.
It would just take time. And he was a patient man, but how much time did he truly have? And would the Queen keep her word after it was all said and done? What would Alastor have to give up in his mission to slay the King? What would he have to sacrifice?
A flash of the burned image sears into his brain. Being held on the lap of that vile woman against his will. He grimaces, suppressing a gag that makes its way out of his mouth anyway.
This gets Lucifer’s attention: “Are you okay?” His eyes immediately flickered away from the book to him in concern. A hand reaching out for him halfway.
“I’m fine,” Alastor says, shifting away.
“Do you need some water or-”
“I am fine, sir.” He says sternly. Turning away.
Lucifer deflates. “...Alright.” He concedes. And regrettably goes back to staring at his book, finally turning a page. The hand outstretched for Alastor returns to his lap.
The redhead sighs. Irritation was bubbling in his chest.
Alastor lies his head back against the plush pillow, propping up his head. He looks around the infirmary, which is a small room with wooden floors and stone walls. Lanterns lit up, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. There are a few windows here, but the blinds are drawn closed for privacy. There are also other beds, the mattresses look as thick and fluffy as the one he lies on. Each bed is separated by a curtain currently drawn open. None of the beds was occupied for the moment, safe for him. And there is a small, quaint bookshelf tucked against the wall near the door that Lucifer had gotten the book from.
The room in itself feels like it was given more care in its design than it should have been. It looked far too refined for its purpose. Any noblemen that was harmed surely would be taken extra care of. These quarters were for the staff unfortunate enough to be wounded. It was a surprise that this place was even here, considering the way Lilith seemed to speak to her staff.
A thought comes to him then…What Vaggie told him earlier. About the King being much kinder than he first thought. He glances at said man and decides to try something. His lips part, and he’s hesitant at first, as if his tongue knows better. His body tenses; he does know better. A fact he wished he hadn’t learned. Still, when he speaks the single word, it comes out in a strained, frail voice. A far cry from what he wanted.
“Lucifer.”
The King’s reaction is immediate; he flinches. Nearly dropping the book he holds. His eyes snapped up to Alastor with a bit of surprise. Alastor’s muscles tense, waiting…preparing for it. To be punished for calling him such an informal term.
“Yes?” Yet Lucifer does no such thing. Only answering innocently.
Of course he wouldn’t…He’s Lucifer.
The thought bounces around in his head as if he’s always known it to be true.
And he’s already said it was fine. His mind reminds him.
He knows that, yet he simply couldn’t trust it. Trust him. It must be a trick, it had to be.
Still, even now, he can see Lucifer, under the warm glow of the moon that seems to make him glow. A smile so warm it rivals his mother's. The smile that ripped open a wound in his chest and birthed something there, something that’s only festered into an uncomfortable sensation.
“It’s okay, really. It doesn’t bother me.”
The feeling blooms, and he feels sick again as he tries to fight it off like a pestering mosquito.
He swallows, regaining his wits. His body takes a moment to realize he’s not being punished. Before he speaks again, “this facility.” He gestures to the room. “Did you make this?”
Lucifer seems surprised. “Uh,” he scratches his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I designed it. And helped with its construction. But I wasn’t really the one who made it. I just helped.”
The bleeding heart. Alastor thinks.
“I see.” He mutters, it made sense. This room had Lucifer written all over it. There was far too much care put into it.
“Why do you ask?” Lucifer says, raising a brow.
“You're written all over it.”
“Huh?”
Alastor taps his fingers against the mattress. Thick and plush, soft to the touch. “The design.” He elaborates. “Most castles would likely have stiff wooden boards for beds. Old cracked walls, maybe one light…They put the bare minimum into their care facilities. Yet you tend to think of those beneath you and their comfort.”
He shrugs. “Well, I wanted people to be comfortable.”
“Even if they are lowly slaves?”
Lucifer stares at him with something lurking in his eyes. There’s a darkness casting over his gaze, but it's not directed at Alastor. Rather, something or someone far away. “They’re people.” Is all he says.
Something in Alastor’s chest drops into the pit of his stomach. The two simple words uncomfortably dislodge something in his chest, and his whole body suddenly feels warm and fuzzy. A shiver racking his skin. He swallows and stares at Lucifer, dumbfounded. Like he said something foreign. The King catches his gaze and simply says, “What?”
“Nothing,” Alastor says, finally tearing his gaze away from Lucifer. And trying not to squirm as he shoves down the uncomfortable sensation. He changes the subject, “I suppose that’s where Charlie got her way of thinking then.” He notes, recalling her very claim as she stood up for him and the others when called the very same thing.
Something in Lucifer’s expression breaks. His eyes were growing glossy. In a watery tone, he replies quietly, “Yeah, I guess she did.”
The silence settles between them once more.
Alastor has the energy to berate himself for not taking this chance to fish more information out of Lucifer. He seems vulnerable; it was the perfect chance. Yet his body and mind felt raw, and his head was muffled and filled with static. Thinking was hard and unclear. He - for the first time in a very long time - wanted to rest. But wouldn’t allow himself such a thing in the presence of another. Even now, he refused it. He wouldn’t look weak.
Yet he’d asked Lucifer to stay.
If that wasn’t a weakness than what was it?
He grimaces.
“Why did you do that?” Lucifer breaks the silence before Alastor can think to maul himself.
Alastor raises a brow, “Do what?”
Lucifer looks almost lost as he replies, “Shield Charlie. You didn’t need to.” he looks up. “So why did you?” There’s something unspoken in his eyes, like fear of the true answer.
Alastor doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t miss the fact that he could use what he had done to make himself look better. And he probably will. But he also knew Lucifer - the freak he was - had a way of telling when one was lying. So, for once, Alastor answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”
He stares. “You…don’t know?”
“That’s correct.”
“You just did it? Just because?”
He shrugs. “I wasn’t thinking. I had just moved before I realized what I was doing.” He sighs, laying his head back. Staring up at the ceiling. There are pretty little portraits of the blue sky with some fluffy clouds above to look at. How considerately childish. “Perhaps I just wasn’t pleased with what I knew was about to transpire. And I had to intervene.”
B̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶b̶o̶d̶y̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶e̶r̶v̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶m̶e̶.̶
Alastor winces.
Lucifer looks at him for a long moment, “Well, I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” He says, then looks at him. “Afterall, it's a knight's job to guard, no?”
He offers a weak smile. “True.” Before it falls away. “I’m glad she’s safe, but she’s probably never going to speak to me now.”
“Ah. You mean because she saw your curse?”
Lucifer winces. “Yeah.” He runs his fingers through his hair. Grabbing it and wrapping it around his fingers. It looks so soft. “We were so worried about you that it wasn’t really mentioned.”
“There was no need to worry about me.”
Lucifer looks at him. “But there was. You might not have woken up.”
“Would that truly have been such a bad thing?” He utters it without thinking. A thought meant to be kept in his mind.
Lucifer stares at him, eyes impossibly wide. Alastor stills, looking over at him. Quietly and carefully, Lucifer lowers his book to his lap and closes it. The loud thumb of its cover echoes across the room. And he feels like he’s said something very wrong. The King looks at him, brows furrowed and bothered. Eyes filled with conflict and glossy still. He looks at Alastor as if he were something more than what he actually is. Like…he’s precious.
His hand reaches forward, for…what? He doesn’t know because Lucifer’s hand only makes it halfway before something flashes over his face. And he seems to think better of it as his hand falls and settles on the edge of Alastor’s mattress instead. Still close to him, but not enough to be invading his space. His eyes flicker watching the smooth, slender fingers curl against the mattress.
“Of course it would have been.” He finally says, impossibly soft. “Do you think I really wouldn’t care if you died today?”
Yes.
“I’m not sure.”
Lucifer sighs, nails grinding against the mattress. “Well, I do care. I wasn’t sure that you would wake up.”
“Is that why you stayed by my bedside?”
The King stills, something faint ghosting his cheeks. But he looks unashamed by the truth being thrown in his face. Resolutely, he simply answered “yes.”
Alastor breathes in a sharp breath. “I see.” Is all he’s capable of saying. There’s a storm brewing in his chest, a warm, cozy feeling trying to settle between his ribs like an unwanted cat. And then another colder, sharper feeling trying to drive it out.
He simply laughs it off. “Well, I suppose it's a good thing I did.”
The others face contorts, tight and troubled. “Yeah… It's good you did.” He says softly. Before pulling back his hand. Alastor watches it fall against the cuffs of Lucifer’s shirt as he plays with them. He fidgets a lot when anxious, he notices."Anyway. After you were dropped off here, Charlie went back to handle her duties with her mother.”
“She hadn’t said anything to you?”
“Not really, no. She looked…afraid.” He says the word like a wounded animal. And Alastor feels a tingle in his hand. An itch to reach up and hold the King’s face. To touch him to soothe him. He digs his nails into the mattress instead.
“I wouldn’t worry.” Lucifer doesn’t look convinced. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. But he finds himself doing it anyway, divulging the information he should have kept to himself. “She seemed rather worried about you when she spoke to me.”
Lucifer's eyes shoot up, “You spoke to her?” His brows furrow, “When?”
“A few days ago.” He remains calm.
“What- how- when-”
“Now now, calm yourself,” Alastor says, waving his hand around. “I merely ran into her in the hall.” He decides that leaving the part of them being in his room together, alone, would be better. Knowing how that would look, despite Alastor having absolutely no interest in the girl. He was far older than her anyway. “She divulged to me that she simply wanted to have a conversation with you.”
“About what?”
Alastor shrugs, deciding it's not his place. “She is worried for you, though.”
Instead of relief, Lucifer looks wounded. “I shouldn’t have worried her; this is my fault.”
Alastor sits up. He speaks honestly without thinking. “Are you always going to blame yourself for everyone else's actions?” He says with annoyance.
Lucifer looks at him. “What?” He crosses his arms. “I don’t-”
“You do.” He leans his hand on the edge of the bed, looking him square in the eyes. “You’ve blamed yourself for the effect your curse has on those around you. When, to my knowledge, you were never given a say in the matter of being given such a curse. Not to mention you pride yourself on taking the blame for your wife’s mis-deeds however, you do absolutely nothing about it.” Lucifer frowns, his irises turning a warning gold. Red bleeding into the whites of his eyes like ink. Alastor proceeds anyway. Captivated. “And then there is the matter of your daughter. You are already blaming yourself for her seeing your curse, yet all you were doing was protecting those around you.” And me. He leaves unspoken. “Which is far more than your wife had done today. I didn’t see her out there stepping in to protect your daughter.”
“Okay,” Lucifer says sternly. “I get it.”
His nails dig into the mattress. “Do you?” He pushes. “When will you stop this pity party you’ve been throwing for who knows how long and do something about it?”
The movement is instantaneous and on instinct, Alastor suspects. In seconds, Lucifer is in his face, one knee on the edge of the bed, blackened charcoal claws trapping him on either side. Alastor doesn’t shriek away, though, staying where he is and staring Lucifer down. Lucifer’s shoulders tighten, and he glares down. Angry and shuddering. Their hands are inches apart, as are their faces. Their noses nearly brushing and Lucifer is so close he can feel his hot breath along his cheek. Smell the strange scent wafting from him…he smells like…apples?
The two deep pools of scarlet trap his gaze, and he feels entranced. There’s an electricity bouncing between them, and the fool Alastor is, can't be bothered worrying about his safety. Rather, he feels an urge to push Lucifer more. A smile finding its way to his lips, smirking, he says, “Do you wish to fight your highness?” He says, raising a brow. “Because I’m more than happy to.”
This makes Lucifer pause; he blinks, his pupils fading back into his eyes. And the anger bleeds away from him. Regret washes over him like a typhoon. He gasps, hand snapping back like a whip. “I’m sorry-fuck-fuck-I’m so sorry-” he quickly moves back, or tries. But Alastor - unthinking - grabs his midknight colored claws. Keeping him in place.
His lips move on their own, a voice husky and bordering on something dangerously close to a line that shouldn’t be crossed, he says, “Who told you to move?”
Lucifer’s eyes widen
Alastor’s eyes widen.
“W-what?” Lucifer's cheeks bloom gold.
Alastor can’t do anything but stare at the strange oddity. His look gives way to something his words don’t, and it makes that gold spread on Lucifer’s face.
“I-” Alastor fumbles, at a loss for his own words and actions. What is he doing? “I-I apologize.” He says quickly, letting go of Lucifer’s wrist.
Alastor expects him to be attacked. But the King simply moves all the way back and takes a deep breath, and his eyes gradually turn back to their usual blue. Alastor can’t help but think it's a pity to see them go. Several beats of silence pass between them as the King calms himself down. And he - curiously - notices that the gold covering Lucifer’s face changes to a much more noticeable red.
Strange.
“You're right.”
Alastor blinks. “I beg your pardon.”
Lucifer sighs, standing a noticeable distance away from him and dragging his hands through his hair. “I said you're right.” He throws his arms out. “Okay? You’re right, Alastor.” He repeats. And he has to admit it's quite nice to hear. “I’ve just been wallowing in my own guilt for all these years, and yeah… you're right. I could have done something about my relationship with my daughter. I could have just been honest with her. I could have taken charge.” He paces back and forth beside Alastor’s bed. “Or just do something about any of my problems. I could have stepped in to stop Lilith from ruining the land…” His eyes find Alastor’s apologetically, “from ruining your village. Your…your life.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Alastor. I’ve been a terrible King to you and your people.”
Alastor stares at him.
Lucifer’s lip wobbles, and he turns away, unable to keep eye contact with the redhead. Alastor burns holes into the back of the King's skull, the gears spinning in place. He never expected an apology. Even from Lucifer. A king was a King. They were always right, no matter the situation. They’d never apologize to someone like him. A commoner.
Yet…Lucifer did, freely.
Alastor shifts on the cot. Moving his legs until they hang off the edge. Lucifer stands, back facing him still. Arms folded. And Alastor can’t stop himself, not when they’re alone like this. Where there are no watching prying eyes. He reaches forward, wrapping his arms around Lucifer’s bicep.
It's treason.
He knows this.
To so much as touch a Noble without their express permission.
But…Lucifer, he is…
S̶a̶f̶e̶
He is a doormat.
He has no fear when he wraps his fingers around the tender muscle and squeezes. L̶u̶c̶i̶f̶e̶r̶'̶s̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶m̶u̶s̶c̶u̶l̶a̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶.̶ ̶Tugging on the arm. Lucifer immediately looks at him. Eyes not alarmed, but pained. They’re glossy. Threatening tears. Alastor is at a loss. He’d never seen a noble willing to cry over someone like him. Never even considered it.
He pulls gently. Barely anything behind his strength. But Lucifer lets him freely. Turning and letting himself be pulled just a little closer to Alastor. Until the tips of their feet are inches apart. Until Lucifer is properly facing him. His hand remains where it is.
Alastor finds - for the first time - he is unable to meet Lucifer’s peering, curious eyes. He looks at where his hand remains instead, quietly saying, “My life was ruined far before you came into the picture, my liege.”
He swallows, “Lucifer.” The redhead looks up. The King sheepishly looks away. “You can just call me Lucifer.” He lets out a dry laugh. “I’m hardly a King afterall. And besides, that’s not an excuse for my lack of action.”
Alastor hums, “Perhaps.” He concedes, and Lucifer’s face falls. “But you still have the title, and the power to do something about it.”
“You're right.” Lucifer sighs. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night.” Lucifer finally says. “I know what you were saying was true, but I didn’t want to hear it. I was dealing with other matters, matters that had nothing to do with you. And I took that anger out on you. When you were just being truthful to me in return.” Lucifer’s hands twist, raising and resting atop Alastor’s. The redhead’s pulse quickens, and Lucifer looks him in the eyes. “I’m truly sorry, Alastor.” He squeezes his hand.
Something softens in the cold heart beating in Alastor’s chest. He finds himself saying before he can stop, “I forgive you.”
A small smile tugs at Lucifer’s lips.
It could melt an iceberg.
Alastor pulls his hand back before he does something he may regret. And Lucifer takes a respectful step back as well. Alastor sighs, “I am dreadfully bored.” He quickly changes the subject.
“You were injured, though, you should rest.”
“I am fine now.” He pats his face. Devoid of the marks he knew he was barred with. “Strange, and my wounds are gone. How could that be?” He calls out, and the King averts his eyes nervously. “Lying does not look good on you, Lucifer.”
The reaction to the use of his name and how much it softens that hardened expression has no right making Alastor feel the way it does. “Ah, yeah…” He clears his throat.
“You did something, didn’t you? What?” Alastor says, scrutinizing him. A familiar temperament leaks into his words.
Lucifer must pick up on it immediately as he answers truthfully, “I healed you.”
Alastor’s brows raise in surprise, his temper fading. “You are capable of that? I thought you were cursed.”
“I am cursed.” He says, “but…” He looks down at his hands. “I also have some weird gifts, too. I can’t really control it, though, it only ever activates when I feel like I need it.”
Alastor stares off. His lips turn down in thought. Remembering something. “That time, when I had fainted in my room. And I awoke to a warm light…” His brows furrow. “You had healed me then, too?”
Lucifer simply nods. “I did.”
“Have you ever attempted to control that? It seems quite useful.”
“I’ve tried.” He admits, “a few times when someone - mainly one of the guards - got hurt. I tried to help, but it never really worked when I wanted. It only really happens when I feel like I need it.”
He wondered immediately to what extent Lucifer could heal...
“How does it feel?” He inquires, genuinely curious.
Lucifer shrugs. “Warm? Tingly? Like butterflies are fluttering through my veins and out of my hands.
Alastor hums. “So full of surprises.” He says with a smile.
Lucifer looks away, smiling.
“Nonetheless, I am bored.”
Lucifer looks around the room as if to say, ‘well what is there to do?’ His eyes settle back on Alastor for a moment. But curiously, he averts his gaze to stare down at his cuffs instead. “Well, what would you like to do?”
“Is there nothing you need assistance with?”
Lucifer briefly thinks of the papers waiting on his bed to be finished. The thought reminds him exactly why he abandoned them in the first place. He suddenly becomes all too aware of Alastor's presence and hyperaware of everything around him.
His soft, controlled breaths. The smell of sweat and wood. His keen brown eyes. His face flushes red. “Uhhh, no…” It could wait.
“Then perhaps a walk?” Lucifer glances at him. “In the castle, of course.”
“No.”
He frowns. Irritated. “Very well.” He begrudgingly says.
Lucifer - realizing his mistake - looks up, startled. “Oh no- I mean- I wasn't saying no, I just…” It's amusing to watch him flounder. “Why not take a walk outside the castle?”
Alastor perks up. “Well, that's more like it! When shall we depart?”
There's a glint of mischief in Lucifer's blue eyes that Alastor has never seen before. It makes a jolt of electricity bounce around his chest.
Lucifer grins, pearly whites showing. “Now.” He says. “Just follow me, and stick close.”
“Oh?” Alastor says with interest, rising off the bed. “Sounds interesting…”
Lucifer's answer is a smile. As he heads to the exit of the room. Lucifer opens the door, and something darts in.
“Whoa-!”
“Alastor!”
“Nifty?”
The short ginger runs up to him, hugging his leg. He stiffens immediately. Looking down at the short girl. Fat tears streaming down her face. “You're okay!” She sobs. And his resolve crumbles.
“Of course I am! Was there ever any doubt?”
She sniffles. “I'm so sorry I didn't do anything!”
Her words… take him off guard. But he smiles. Patting her head. “Now now, there's no need for that. I'm right as rain, dear! The King fixed me right up.”
“Sure did. He's better than ever.” Lucifer assures, still by the door.
An idea suddenly pops into Alastor’s head. “Nifty dear, where is the princess?”
She unhooks herself from his leg. Something he finds… He didn't actually mind.
Nifty wipes her eyes. “I-I saw her in the dining hall. With that horrible man.”
Lucifer frowns.
“I should have done something! I'm so sorry…”
“I understand,” Alastor assures her. “However, there is still something you could do if you want to help?”
Nifty lights up. “Anything! … I'll make him pay!”
Alastor chuckles. “Could you be a dear and gather some information? Just listen in on their conversation and report back to us.”
Lucifer's eyes widened.
“Of course!”
Alastor smiles. “Atta girl.”
Lucifer's frown deepens. “I don't know…that sounds a little dangerous.”
“Nonesense she can do it, can't you?”
Nifty nods so fast her head might come off. “Of course!”
“She is one of the staff here afterall. So it should not be too difficult, I’m sure our darling Nifty can handle it.” Alastor looks down at her and puts a finger to his lips. “Youll have to be sneaky though.
She grins. “I'm a ninja!”
Alastor chuckles. Having no idea what that is. “That will do.” She salutes. “Off you go now.”
“Okay!” She rushes away, “bye Alastor! Bye, ultimate bad boy!”
“Wait, ultimate what-?”
She chuckles maniacally. Already gone.
Lucifer casts a wary eye. “Are you sure that was a good idea?” He turns to Alastor.
He maintains his smile with confidence. “You should have more faith in your comrades.”
Lucifer - despite himself - smiles. Although it's small. “You're right.” He turns. “Let's go.”
Alastor gingerly follows after him.
They finally exit the boring room and he follows beside Lucifer, expecting him to head to the exit. Curiously though he does not. He takes a turn and descends down to the deeper levels of the castle. Down a spiraling set of stairs that leads into the bowels of the castle. A dark space only illuminated by a few torches.
Their feet echo loudly in the space, and Lucifer continues to lead the way without much light. As if he knows the path by heart.
“Interesting.” He mutters to himself.
He isn’t sure exactly where Lucifer is intending to go. And much of their walk is in silence, safe for the echo of their steps. And a few distant drips of water. Eventually, Lucifer stops deep in the pit of darkness and runs his hands along the wall. Alastor wants to ask what he’s doing, but resigns to just watching. Lucifer’s delicate fingers scale the stone wall until he stops. Finding something, and he pulls it out. A stone? Lucifer tucks it into his in the faint light of the space he can hole. Lucifer sticks his hand into the hole and pulls.
To Alastor’s surprise, the wall gives way, like a…door.
He realizes. It groans softly and pulls to reveal a long, deep tunnel. Lit up dimly with torches.
Lucifer simply turns to him, a smirk on his lips. And he raises his brow.
Alastor smiles. “Sneaky boy.” He chuckles.
Lucifer turns away, ears tinting a shade of pink. He clears his throat. “Let's go.” He says, assuring Alastor to enter the tunnel. Once he’s in, Lucifer joins him, pulling the door close, plunging them into almost complete darkness except for the eerie orange glow of the torches. He puts the stone back, completely covering their passage once more.
With nothing else to say, Lucifer continues into the long tunnel, and Alastor gingerly follows.
. . .
“My deepest apologies for their behavior. Honestly, Charlie is much better than this. She just gets a bit…attached to the servants.”
Nifty pokes her head into the dining hall. She’s so small that she isn’t noticed as she perches herself behind a side table.
Lilith and Charlie are seated on one side of the table, the Von Eldrics on the other. Sebastian is sitting between his parents, a servant attending tentatively to the small scratch on his face as if it were a deep battle scar. He looked beyond irritated, his arms folded as he directed a barely concealed scowl at the morning stars.
Mr. Von Eldric smiles brightly, ignoring the tension in the air.
And the Misses elegantly sips the provided tea. As she lowers her cup, she beams. “Oh no, the fault is ours.” She directs a look at her son, still smiling, but there’s a dangerous glint in her eyes. “I honestly don’t know what got into my son here. Forgive him.” She puts a hand on his head; he winces. “I believe you owe Charlie and her mother an apology.”
“What-” He murmurs.
Lilith does not protest. She seems to be waiting, in fact. Nifty inches closer, ducking behind another piece of furniture. Charlie’s head is lowered, a dark cloud over her eyes. She looks utterly destroyed. Yet at the mention of an apology, Lilith’s eyes dart to her for the splitest of seconds. Her lips press together.
“No, I am sorry,” Charlie says finally, voice meek. “My behavior…it wasn’t…” she pauses, as if the words pain her to say, “it wasn’t befitting of a lady.” She raises her head, offering a smile to Sebsatain, but Nifty’s been around the princess enough times to know that her smile was forced. “Could you ever forgive me? Please?”
Sebastian immediately looks taken aback, but appeased. He blinks, “Well…” he stammers. “I suppose.”
His mother clasps her hands together, “oh splendid! I was terribly afraid this was the beginning of a material spat.” She chuckles politely.
Lilith joins in, polite as well, “yes well, I suppose that’s young love for you.”
She claps her hands together, “now why don’t you show Sebstain around the castle, dear?” She says, directing her attention to Charlie. A guard was already ready to accompany her. There’s something pained in Charlie’s expression, like defeat. But she simply nods. Smiling brightly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sure thing mom!”
She stands then, waiting eagerly for Sebstain who rises and accompanies her, taking her hand. Charlie's smile tightens. And Nifty grinds her teeth, wanting to rip his throat out. But no…no be nice! Can’t blow her cover.
“Sebsatain.” His mother says sternly, yet warm somehow. “Behave yourself now.”
He makes a face. “Of course, mother.”
With that, they leave the dining room, and Nifty darts between the furniture after them. Quickly ducking out of the room to follow the two.
However, perhaps she should have remained in the room.
Once everyone is gone, the three elders fall into a terse silence. It stretches on for several minutes, and Lilith raises one hand into the air and snaps her fingers. The guards all stand at attention. “Out,” Lilith commands like a King. They all follow her orders without argument. Metal clinking as they rush out of the room. Standing outside to block the doors.
Lilith smiles. She leans forward on the table, hands folding. “I’m terribly sorry your son had to see my husband's unfortunate illness.” Her smile is large and tight at the lips. Her eyes glinted a dangerous warning.
Bethesda returns her smile with as much vigor. “Oh, it's no trouble at all.” She assures.
The man in the room sits quiet, letting the two women continue on.
Lilith’s smile falters, “So, do we still have a deal?”
Bethesda hums, tracing the rim of her cup with her index finger. “I’m not sure, that was awfully close. Your husband could have killed my poor boy.”
Lilith frowns; “I assure you, my husband may look fierce, but he is a doormat.”
“And you're sure he won't be a problem?”
“He will remain out of the way.” She smiles, “I have him wrapped around my finger. If I told him to jump off the side of our castle’s cliff, he would.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Bethesda chuckles.
Lilith chuckles, eyes dark and warning, “If only it were that simple.” She shakes her head. “But back to the matter at hand.”
Bethesda hums, pretending to think it over, and it's becoming increasingly annoying for Lilith.
“Dear, enough,” Frederik speaks, alas, his single word clear and firm. As if a command, his wife stills beside him. And sighs, as if a toy was taken from her.
“Fine.” She says, rolling her eyes. “Yes, we will accept your daughter as our son's bride. Sadly, we haven’t many other options, as you already know.” She hums, dragging it out, “and in exchange for this grand favor, we will hold up our end of the deal.”
“So you’ve procured it?”
The pair smiles, something dark and sinister. “Of course.” His wife speaks and looks at her husband. He pulls back his jacket and reaches into a hidden breast pocket. Out he pulls a small metal case that looks studier than anything Lilith had ever laid eyes on. She watches - eagerly - as it’s laid down on the table and a key is pulled from the wife’s pocket. The lock is opened with a loud click.
The wife carefully reaches into the small metal case and pulls out one small glass vial with purple liquid that almost glows under the faint light in the room.
Lilith smiles.
“Lovely.”
. . .
Their steps echo across the stone, clicking and clacking.
Alastor clears his throat, “So, if I may…” he pauses, “Lucifer.” He uses the name again freely, finding it to be his new favorite word.
Lucifer fights a smile. “Yeah?”
His reactions are so…nice. “Who was that delightful fellow who almost maimed me? A nobleman, no doubt?”
Lucifer sighs, his demeanor falling like a stone. “Yeah…yeah, he was.” He frowns deeply.
“Care to elaborate? I’m all ears.” Alastor offers.
The King glances his way, contemplating it, and Alastor is careful not to be too pushy. “He’s…Charlie’s fiancée."
Alastor raises a brow, “That pitiful thing?”
“I know, right?!” Lucifer reacts immediately. It's such a fast reaction that it throws them off guard. Leaving them staring at each other for a moment.
“Is there not a more…suitable option?” Alastor presses onward.
Lucifer sighs. “No.” He says, carding his fingers through his hair as they continue their walk. “Normally, marriage is kept within the bloodline. Usually, a cousin or something like that. But Charlie doesn’t have any.”
“Not even one?”
“Nope. Neither Lilith nor I had siblings. And her family was just as dry on relatives as mine. It's why we were married in the first place, both our kingdoms and parents were out of options.”
“So her fiancé? Why him?”
“The Von Eldrics are close friends of Lilith and I from years ago.” Although it was more so Lilith’s friends now than his. “And from what I hear, their daughter got married off to someone in the bloodline, but their son wasn’t as lucky. They have a rare condition that’s left their hair white and them unnaturally pale. So outside of their extended family, there weren’t any actual candidates to take up their son in marriage. Not only for their families' health reasons being a liability, but because the health condition itself didn’t leave many of them alive.”
“I’m surprised it wasn’t due to his poor manners.”
Lucifer chuckles at that. “I’m sure that had a part in it.” He sighs. “So take that and our situation, and it becomes an optimal pairing. The Von Eldrics would get someone to marry their son, and Charlie would get a husband.” He cringes. “I just wish it wasn’t this way, especially him. He’s always been so close-minded, they all have been.”
“Is that what you were away discussing that night?”
“Yeah…” He sighs. A ping of pain aching in his chest as he covers it up with a poor joke, “Yeah, I was doing that. Not off getting laid.” He says with an exaggerated eye roll, directing it at Alastor.
Alastor winces. “That was…an uncalled-for statement.”
Lucifer’s face softens. “Yeah, it was.” He agrees. “Why’d you say it?”
Alastor averts his gaze.
B̷͚̈́ẽ̸̟č̵͙a̴̧̒u̶͖̕ś̴͓e̸̪̐ ̵̠͠ ̵͈̕ ̴͔̄ ̸͖͆I̷̲̍ ̸̠̀ẅ̸̢́a̸̪͋s̴̠͆ ̸̙̉ ̷̥̅ ̷̮̇ ̷͔͆j̷̢̐e̶͙͝ä̴͈l̶̮͂o̷̥̓u̵͓͝ś̶̞
“I’m not sure,” Alastor says stiffly. “Regardless, I shouldn’t have said that.” He hesitates, saying it with some effort, “I apologize.”
Lucifer regards him for a moment before saying, “I forgive you.” Alastor perks up. “I did take a lot longer than I promised.” He turns away, missing the look he gets. “I guess I was just irritated by the comment, y’know? It's not like I’ve really been touched in years. So ain’t getting any of that anytime soon. Hahahaha…ehhhh.” He cringes.
Alastor’s brows knit together. He cringes at the topic of conversation but finds something odd and voices it. “If that is such an issue, surely you have concubines?”
Lucifer makes a face. “No, I don’t. Besides, I would never do that to her. It would be like basically cheating.” He shakes his head. “It's either her or nobody.”
Alastor bites his tongue, not understanding it. Why be so loyal to someone who obviously cared not for him in return? That wrench didn’t deserve it.
Although forced, Alastor says, “How loyal of you.”
Lucifer sighs. “I know you wanted to say something else, maybe something more crass. I can’t blame you; she hasn’t exactly been kind to you. But she still is my wife.” He calls out, and Alastor freezes. “But I appreciate that you chose a more polite response.” He turns to Alastor and smiles at him. “Thank you.”
Alastor sighs; “of course…” he mutters. Eyes falling.
They fall back into silence after that.
And Alastor wrestles with a searing anger in his chest. Confused by its presence.
…After some time, they reach the end of the tunnel. It's the same as its entrance. A set of stairs leading up to a stone hatch that Lucifer opens by the same means. The hatch swings inward instead of out.
“Who crafted this?” Alastor asked curiously.
“It was always here. Even when I inherited this place.” Lucifer says simply, “I just happened to stumble upon it one day."
“And nobody else knows of it?”
He shakes his head. Pulling the hatch open. It's still curiously dark until Lucifer places his hand against something solid, blocking the exit. And he pushes it with little effort. Sunlight pours in, and dirt rains down around them. Alastor scowls as he dusts himself off. They exit the tunnel into a thick forest. And Alastor turns to find Lucifer pulling the stone hatch shut. His eyes flicker to what Lucifer pushed out of the way, and he’s a little dumbfounded.
It’s a boulder.
One a bit bigger than he is. And certainly heavier than someone of Lucifer's small stature.
His eyes flicker to Lucifer’s body, nimble, slender, and small. How strong was he?
He watches as Lucifer grasps the boulder and pushes it back over the hatch.
“Couldn’t anyone get into the castle this way if they happened upon it?”
“Maybe. But there are so many guards in that castle that they wouldn’t get very far.” He shrugs. “And nothing has ever come of it.”
Not to mention the damned boulder, but Lucifer doesn’t mention that. Alastor wonders if he even considered it.
Alastor hums, looking around. The forest surrounding them is thick and vast. There is a cool breeze in the air. He thinks about it for a moment, and they walk through that tunnel for about two miles. He would guess, given they’d been in there for perhaps an hour. He tries to get a look at the horizon and, between the trees, can make out the site of the castle in the far distance. It's shrouded by the fog in the air.
“We are quite far.” He notes.
“That’s why I like this little passage,” Lucifer replies.
Alastor raises a brow, “Is this how you snuck out to my village?”
Lucifer steps away from the boulder after making sure it's covering the trap door. He shrugs. Not giving a verbal answer. “Let's go.” He sighs, hands tucking in his pockets.
Alastor huffs. Waiting till Lucifer gets a few feet ahead before trying to push the boulder with one hand.
It doesn’t even budge.
“Coming?” Lucifer looks back.
“Yes!” He says, quickly joining him.
…The air between them is less tense; it seems both are relieved to be away from the castle. The air feels cleaner here, Alastor thinks. His muscles relax for the first time in a while. They resign themselves to simply walking in silence, neither wishing to break it. The gentle sounds of nature were their only company. The soft wooshing sounds of the wind. The chirp of birds as they fly over. The gentle scuffing of their shoes as they walk along the dirt path.
“Can I ask you a question?” Lucifer breaks the silence after a while.
“Only if I may ask you one in return.”
Lucifer falters in his strides. Lagging behind Alastor. The redhead turns to look at him, and Lucifer slowly raises his gaze to meet him. “Will you answer honestly?” He asks, looking Alastor dead in the eye with something fierce.
Alastor meets his gaze. “Will you?”
He answers without hesitation. “Of course.”
“Then I will. Provided only one question is asked.” He says with a smile.
“Fine.”
He hums, turning and walking back to the King. Closing the distance by a few feet. He sizes the man up with his eyes. They take him in, up and down. Lucifer stiffens slightly under his prying stare but stands his ground. “So it's a deal then?” Alastor asks, extending his hand.
Lucifer eyes his hand warily. “Deal.” He says, grabbing it and shaking it firmly.
Alastor smirks; “very well,” he says, dropping Lucifer’s hand as quickly as he grabbed it. Like it burns. Ignoring the heat of it. He wipes his hand off on his pants. An action the King tries not to look affronted by. It stings more than it should. He gestures to the King, “Then ask your question.”
Lucifer stands there for a moment, the gears shifting in his head. Something is lost in his eyes as he debates what to ask. Alastor waits almost eagerly for what the King will say. He, however, already knows what he will be asking him. Since they are - by the deal - under the law of truth. He could lie, easily, but the damn fool and his perceptive otherworldly skills of picking up on that sort of thing left Alastor without much choice.
Finally, Lucifer asks with a steely gaze, “Why do you hate me, Alastor?”
That's the question?
That's it?
Alastor almost wants to laugh. It's so…absurd. Why should anyone care about such a thing? It's such an easy answer. Almost wasted. “Well, that's quite simple.” He almost laughs, “It's because-”
Your annoying
You're a bad King
But he says none of those things.
Because that’s not truly why he hates Lucifer. Hates any noblemen who so much as come near him. And he knows it, deep down.
He doesn’t have to, though…he doesn’t…he…
Don’t touch him.
The image of Lucifer, standing in front of him, regal and powerful. Shielding him from the harmful hands of another noble. It bleeds into his throat like a spill. His blackened claws are on full display. Ready to maim the man who beat him before everyone. Blood red sclera glaring menacingly at the man like he’d been prey.
He hated it.
Hated that Lucifer had come to his aid, defended him. He looked like some damn damsel. Weak.
He was not weak.
But…Lucifer saved his life. He knew that deep down, he would most certainly have been beaten to death. And there was nothing anyone present could have done.
His lips press together as the words die in his throat. Lucifer - bless him - is patient beside Alastor. Not pushing him.
Alastor’s nails dig into his palm, and they visibly begin to shake. Violently. Lucifer parts his lips to speak, to ask, but the redhead starts moving. Needing to. Unable to remain still. His body is desperate for the excursion. Lucifer follows behind him. Keeping a respectful distance between the two, he does not interrupt. Carefully reading his expression. The obvious signs of discomfort.
‘You don’t have to answer.’ Lucifer wants to say. But he wants to know. Wants to know why. Even after he is kind to him, why does he still hate him? And he finds telling Alastor such a thing would likely piss him off worse.
Wordlessly, Alastor leads their little walk, deeper into the thick forest surrounding the castle. Lucifer lets him. These steps are slow, leisurely, and careful. Alastor’s face is guarded, forlorn, far, and lost. As if his mind is somewhere else, and Lucifer can’t help but openly stare. He’s fighting a battle in his mind. His expression tightened with effort as he seemingly weighed invisible odds and relived unseen pasts. Lucifer can understand his pain and begins to regret his question. He wants to know, but not if it causes this much pain.
His lips part, ready to call off the question when Alastor finally asks, “How much traveling have you done, sir?”
It's an odd question. Lucifer thinks. But he assumes it's not the one Alastor wants to ask. “I suppose not all that much. Given my curse.”
He follows it up with something stranger, “Have you ever gone overseas?”
Overseas?
As if on que, Lucifer begins to register the dull, gentle roar in the distance of the ocean the castle is next to. He feels the chill in the air grow colder. Had they been walking towards the sea this whole time? He continues to follow Alastor. And finds they are probably growing closer to it.
“Can’t say I have,” Lucifer answers, stepping over a fallen branch. Half wondering what this had to do with his question. The other half wondered if Alastor was trying to get out of it. Still, he remains patient.
They fall into a beat of silence that doesn’t stretch on for nearly as long this time.
The closer they grow to the sea, the more at ease Alastor looks, Lucifer notes.
Alastor takes a deep breath. His eyes are searching the ground for nothing, one of the few times he doesn’t make eye contact. Lucifer had saved his life, whether he wanted him to or not. He’d done him a favor, however unwilling. He owed him something in return.
So, the truth then.
The whole truth.
Alastor finally decides.
“You never inquired about the strange nature of my hair.” Alastor begins,
s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶b̶a̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶i̶t̶.̶ ̶A̶f̶r̶a̶i̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶l̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶y̶e̶s̶.̶ ̶
̶S̶t̶a̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶.̶
Educating.
“I mean, it's…” Pretty.
Lucifer clamps his mouth shut.
Alastor glances at him. Eyes still glazed and foggy. “It's what?” He presses. Something agitated in his expression, as if preparing for a spat.
Lucifer brows furrow, “A nice color.” He settles on.
The statement doesn’t seem to please Alastor anymore than if he’d told him to fuck off. He seems miffed about it. “Regardless, there is a reason behind its odd color. It's not normal for those in this region.”
Lucifer understands, but there was something he never brought up. Found there was no reason too since Alastor seemed so…touchy on the subject of his hair color. However, now he finds it’s probably best to bring it up, considering the subject. “I have seen that hair color before.” He admits. And Alastor’s eyes flicker towards him almost… panicked?
“You have?” He raises a brow, trying to appear calm. But the look in his eyes betrayed him.
“Yes.”
“But you’ve not travelled?”
Lucifer elaborates. “I wasn’t allowed much travel, due to the nature of my curse.” He confesses. “But I did engage in a lot of trades early on in my marriage when…” he pauses, pushing back those happy memories, “back when I was overseeing important matters. It wasn’t strange for traders from foreign lands to come all the way here to meet me to establish trading routes for goods between our two respective lands.”
“And whom did you meet that had this hair color?” Alastor asks, but something is bleeding into his tone; it's a little faster. A little rushed. Almost like he’s…scared?
Lucifer continues. “Years ago, we established trade with a new Kingdom founded in Eastern Europe. I think they called themselves the…” he pauses, brows furrowing as he tries to remember. “Frankish Kingdom?” Lucifer is looking down when he says this, so he misses the way Alastor all but stiffens beside him. Simply continuing. “Anyway, the King had come all that way to make proper greetings and set up. But I do remember that he had red hair.”
Lucifer keeps walking, only realizing that Alastor had stopped. He turns, finding Alastor standing there, shaking with rage. “Alastor?”
He’s looking down. “What were the trades?” He mutters almost too quietly.
“What?” Lucifer says, walking closer to hear him. “I didn’t catch that-”
“What.” He seethes, “Were the trades?” He looks up, bloodlust filling his eyes.
Lucifer swallows. Carefully, he replies, “Mainly cloth and weapons or armor…and…”
“Slaves?”
He tenses.
“Yes.”
Alastor scoffs. Turning away, angered. “And I suppose you partook in those goods too, hmm?”
Lucifer's fingers curl. Into a fist. There’s a thick tension in the air. “Alastor, maybe we should drop this subject and-”
“Oh no, please, do enlighten me, sir.” He all but spats. Stepping closer and without warning, gets in Lucifer’s face. Their noses almost brushing. Lucifer stands his ground, though. Staring into the two venomous pools of hatred staring into his soul, wishing to rip him apart. “Tell me, did you purchase some hired help, hmm?” He all but yells the question.
Lucifer can feel the hot breath on his cheek. Alastor is panting and shaking as he fights to keep his rage contained.
Lucifer stays calm. He’s seen this before, not just in Alastor. In many. He knows it. And something finally clicks into place. The missing piece, realization clouds over his eyes.
He says it aloud, finally, the truth.
“You were a slave, …weren’t you, Alastor?” He mutters grimly.
Alastor almost laughs; it's not the reaction he expected. He doesn’t back away, though. “Oh, dodging the question, are we?” It's then that Alastor grabs him by the front of his shirt, dragging him impossibly closer, whittling down the inches between them. And Lucifer instinctively grabs his wrist. “Answer the question!”
“Yes!” Lucifer finally says it. “I bought them.”
“How many.” Alastor seethes. Lucifer falters, “How many?”
“All of them.”
Alastor’s nails dig into Lucifer’s wrist, breaking the skin. Strains of gold trickle down his wrist and into his sleeve. Staining it. And he laughs. Roughly shoving the King back before he can do something unspeakable. “As I thought.” He spits. “You're just like the rest.” He says, turning and storming off.
But Lucifer has had enough of it. Enough of Alastor running from important things like this.
He reaches out, snatching his wrist. “Hold on-”
“Let go.” Alastor seethes.
“Let me explain.” He holds him tighter.
“There is nothing to explain sire.” He yanks his arm back.
Lucifer yanks him towards him with unseen strength, making Alastor tumble. Enough to cause them to be at eye level, and he grasps Alastor’s other wrists, keeping him in place. “Let go of me right now you filthy-”
“I saved them! Okay!” He yells before Alastor can get out another word.
His statement causes Alastor to freeze. “...You…what?”
Lucifer lets out an exhausted breath. “I saved them.” He repeats. “I bought them all out from him, and I gave them a choice. If they wanted to live in the castle. And I would supply them with a job, money, food, and housing. Anything they’d want.”
There’s a dawning realization on Alastor’s face, a conclusion to a revelation that Lucifer cannot see. The look is hidden away as fast as it's shown.
“And if they chose otherwise?” He asks, a calculating look directed at Lucifer.
“Then I let them go.”
He scoffs, “Just like that?”
“Why would I keep them captive?!”
“Because they are slaves! They are property!”
“No, they aren’t they’re people-”
“I am nothing but property!”
Alastor screams it without thinking.
They both freeze on the spot.
Lucifer’s expression breaks, along with his heart. And he mutters out a wounded “Alastor…”
Alastor rips his wrists away from Lucifer, crossing his arms and taking a few desperate steps away from the King. Lucifer lets him. But he doesn’t let him get far. As he softly says, “You're not.”
“I am,” he spats. “That is all I have ever been.”
Lucifer walks towards him, not touching but stepping in front of him, into his vision. Look at me, he wants to say. “You're not property. You're a human.”
“Hardly.”
“You are. You're not some piece of property! You're a person with a soul and wants and needs and desires-”
“And do you think it honestly matters?!” Alastor all but cackles. “Do you think anyone cares? No. Of course not, it does not matter to them! I am a colored person! So I am property!” He says the truth. Because it is the truth. Whether either of them liked it or not.
Lucifer’s hands tremble at his side, and Alastor watches as the King’s sclera turns that deep crimson. “You're not property.” He states firmly. “Especially not to me.”
His rageful expression cracks.
“Why…” Alastor says, his voice breaks. His whole body is shaking now. “Why are you like this?”
“What?” Lucifer mutters.
“Why do you care so much?! What is your plan? What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything, Alastor.”
“Oh, so you are simply doing all of this out of the kindness of your heart?”
“Is that so wrong?”
“Yes,”
“Why?”
“Because nothing is ever for free in this world!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but this is who I am, Alastor. And if you don’t like it, nobody is holding you captive. You have a choice here.”
“Choice?” He echoes. Lucifer turns, and Alastor stalks towards him again. “I’ve not had a choice since the day of my birth!” He snatches Lucifer by his shirt. Getting close. “Something you don’t seem to understand as the privileged blue-blooded prick you are!” He spats.
“Well, you have one here! Whether you like it or not. So deal with it!”
They both fall into a tense silence filled with heavy breathing and strained nerves. Lucifer removes Alastor’s hand with black claws and turns away, “Maybe we should call it. This….” he gestures between them, “I think tensions and emotions are a little high right now. And the last thing I want to do is fight you.”
He takes a few steps away from Alastor, at a loss. Tired and ragged. Nerves and emotions were severed and beaten down and left to bake in the sun. He spills his heart, uncaring anymore. “Y’know, I really thought we were getting somewhere.” He admits. “I thought you were starting to actually like being around me. I thought…” he trails off. “I was wrong.” He sighs, stepping away.
The air falls quiet again, only the soft roar of the ocean filling the terse silence.
“I’m a bastard child.”
The statement cuts through the air like a knife.
“What?” Lucifer says softly, spacy as he turns to face Alastor. To look him in the eyes. He’s still mad, that much is obvious. But he looks at Lucifer with something… vulnerable in his face.
Alastor takes in a shaking breath, as if it hurts him too. Lucifer only then realizes that Alastor’s eyes are glossy.
He speaks with a strained voice.
“That vile King you established trades with, the one from the Frankish Kingdom. The Frenchman.” Alastor finally elaborates. His eyes harden. Finally, he says the truth.
“I am his bastard spawn.”