Chapter Text
The demonstration had been a success. For awhile. A great number of Abbadon's former army had stood down, but Forneus was a clever Demon. They'd swept in just after the scent of melted Demon had dissipated and spoke sweet words into the ears of all those who still doubted. Work was still to be done. Hastur sighed, arms crossed as they sat back in their chair. They were in the middle of a meeting with Beelzebub, Dagon, and a few other Demons of importance. Ligur was off rallying their current troops and Crawly. Well, they had Crawly working double-time. They'd only have the Demon until they needed to follow-up on Heaven's nine-month program back on Earth so the little Demon was sent into the halls of Hell known for housing Forneus' flock. Sent to slither about, listen and do what they do best. What that was Hastur didn't have a word for yet, but Crawly was good at it and the Demon's who made decisions liked them well enough too. Shaking their thoughts away from their kin, Hastur refocussed on the talks.
Beelzebub and Dagon sat at the head of the table, with the largest most commanding chairs, and the rest of the Demons sat encircled around them. Hastur was almost completely opposite the two, leaving them to try and focus their eyes anywhere but directly on them. Which was easy to do considering what was spread all over the table. A suspiciously accurate map of Hell was carved into the surface. The lines spread out much further than just the main building, to the badlands where only the most desperate of Demons went. Lands where strange creatures and ilk of a type that cast fearful shadows into the hearts of even the strongest Demons. Hastur suspected Dagon had something to do with the map. Memories of the Demon walking out of the sulfur lake without any sign they were bothered by it came to mind as they raked their eyes along the carved lines of Hell's shores. As for what was on top the map, though, that was no doubt Beelzebub's work.
Swaths of flies grouped inside the lines of the map's borders. Deep, pitch black, tiny flies gathered upon the outer edges of Hell's halls dipping into the badlands - denoting Forneus' troops. Bright, bottle green, flies centered on the courtroom where they sat now in the main area - the army of Lucifer. A few key players were symbolized with very special flies. Beelzebub was the largest, Dagon's was a strange silver. Hastur themself was represented by a chartreuse one, Ligur's was orange and Crawly's. Was somewhere. No one seemed to notice that the fledgling Demon seemed to have evaded Beelzebub's tracking... That line of thought was ended when the talks grew louder.
Barbas spoke, "The Demon Crawly has already reported to us the location of Forneus, we should just have Hastur do unto them as they did unto Abbadon."
"That doesn't solve the problem", Dagon said, "There will be another Forneus. As long as we allow these dissenters to exist another will just rise up in their place."
"Well, it's far easier to destroy one Demon than half of Hell. If another rises we'll smite them as well."
"That is no different! It'll just cause more damage! The longer we allow this rebellion to go one the more Demons who will turn away from Lucifer. We need a swift, definitive strike -"
"Then destroy Forneus!"
"Did you not listen to -"
"Enough." Beelzebub howled, their voice came ten-fold, the air buzzed as the swarm that hummed above their heads flared with their anger.
The gathered Demon's gathered quieted down as the cloud of flies pulsed furiously. Lord Beelzebub was sat forward in their chair, their fingers clawed at the map as they glared at the field of flies across the table. Of all of them, Hastur knew that Beelzebub had taken the rebellion the worse. Beelzebub who was the closest to Lucifer before the Fall, after the Fall and still after Lucifer had slipped off into the badlands without another word to all those they'd dragged down with them. Beelzebub had been there for every moment. Every day Hastur could see the weight of Hell press down on them. No longer did they bother forcing their form to appear as it once did. With every day the sores grew larger, each blister wept with more puss - the cloud of flies grew bigger. Crawly had asked Hastur in private before they'd gone off to slink among Forneus' army if they knew how Beelzebub was handling all of Hell pushing their anger onto them. They'd asked it with a guarded look on their face, the sort of look that Hastur recognized from the night they'd witnessed the first storm. So Hastur had lied, said they were handling the situation like a king. Some part of Hastur knew that the fledgling didn't believe them. It made Hastur wonder if the first lie they'd served Crawly would be worth it in a few centuries from that moment.
Beelzebub started up again, "We need to destroy Forneus - " they rose a hand to stop Barbas from speaking "- but we also need to destroy the rebellion. Forneus needs to pay for their transgression against our Lord, but Dagon is right. As always. But we can't exactly just evaporate the rebels either, it'll just leave us weak in the event that Heaven strikes against us. Forneus is just one head of the beast."
"Exactly", Hastur didn't realize they'd spoken up until everyone was staring at them expectantly, "Destroying Forneus won't solve the problem, another will just rise up. But, every rebellion rides on its leadership. Forneus is smart, smarter than Abbadon, they likely have a council just like this. That's why people are following them, they've got ranks. They've got..."
"A hierarchy", Beelzebub finished for them.
With a wave of their hand the biggest bottle-green fly that represented Forneus split into six. Circled up just as Beelzebub's own council was.
"We need a hierarchy to replace theirs. Too long Hell has just been Dagon and me handing down the word of Lucifer. No wonder no one trusts us. We sound like Michael and that fool Gabriel."
Hastur flinched at the way the Demon hissed Gabriel's name. They looked down to the map again. Just as a shiny red fly had appeared again. Crawly had come back from wherever they'd gone off too. There was something strange about their marker, though, that little fly buzzed as if its wings had been clipped. Crawling in panicked circles as it fled from the badlands deeper into the safer halls of Hell. The conversation picked up around Hastur again. Groups of flies were adjusted to represent a prospective battle plan, but they ignored all that movement. Focused on a little red fly as it moved in a harried fashion towards an orange one. Red found orange, the orange fly almost seemed to half carry the little red one as Hastur watched the two move down the halls again. This time, they knew that the flies were moving towards the court currently in session. Hastur felt the eyes all land on them, the conversation cutting off as they pushed up from the table. Their chair had just hit the ground when Hastur had thrown open the doors leading out into the halls. Ligur and Crawly all but fell into Hastur's arms.
A singular moment passed where Hastur tried to gain the eye of Ligur, to try and understand what had happened. Yet, the other was focused purely on the fledgling in their arms. Before Hastur could even try to vocalize those thoughts, the court broke into action. Quick to usher them all within the walls of the courtroom, the doors shut to keep out prying eyes. Hastur helped Ligur settle Crawly into a chair, trying to ignore the flood of questions that washed over them. The fledgling Demon hadn't looked worse since Ligur and Hastur had found them just shortly after the Fall, nor had the ever looked angrier. Hastur kneeled before them trying to ignore the slow drip of what was, for once, not water but blood.
"What happened."
"Forneus is marching on you."
Beelzebub's swarm buzzed, "What!?"
"What happened, to you Crawly", Hastur tried again as the court as they jumped into action, "Did they find you out? Who did this?"
"Does it matter. You should go find your blade Hastur... it looks like you're all about to go to war again."
A hand landed on Hastur's shoulder, Dagon was dragging them to their feet. Ligur was dragged up a moment later. They could already hear the start of the fighting in the distance. A blade was shoved in Hastur's hand, a familiar weight that they'd not carried for a long time. Not since the first rebellion. The playing field had been set and Hell marched against... itself. The court fled from the room, Ligur and Hastur dragged after them - Hastur managed one final look back at Crawly. The other's face masked by the cascade of hair that hung from their head. The question of 'what happened' rang in Hastur's ears. Ever unanswered as they were ferried away from their fledgling. Something had changed. Or perhaps the changes had finally finished changing. Ever since Hastur found them waylaid by Raphael in the flood, it had begun. Now. Hastur doesn't know, they kept their eyes on Crawly until they were finally forced away as the court moved to rally the troops. The only thing Hastur did know was that there would be consequences for attacking one of their own...
As for Crawly.
They watched the board of flies. Dragging their seat closer to the board to watch as the group of flies that was Beelzebub's court stormed down the halls. While from the badlands the flies that represented Forneus' army invaded the inner halls of Hell.
They watched as a chartreuse fly split off from Beelzebub's court. Just behind the chartreuse, one was an orange one. Side by side they buzzed down the halls carved into the map. One by one scattered flies followed after them. Every corned that was passed more flies gathered behind the rallying force of the chartreuse fly. It was like rewatching something they'd already seen. Just as in the first rebellion, Hastur had been a major rallying player, and once again they marched. And all the Demon's who saw them fell into line. Soon a great mass of flies followed behind that chartreuse one and moments later they'd crash into the wall of flies led by Forneus. All the flies erupted from the map. Flies tore and fought one another with teeth and claws that would be unnatural on any such creature found on Earth. Wings were torn from the backs of flies, left to plummet to Hell a second time. Eyes plucked from rebel heads, legs torn asunder. Blood in masses unbecoming of the swarm spewed across Dagon's carefully curated map. That chartreuse fly was at the center of it, fighting one of the great flies that had come from Forneus' court. A great beast of a fly, with heads that could not be counted.
Buzzing about each other furiously the fight only grew more wicked. Piles of flies had begun to stack up on the map. The great fly that was Beelzebub had engaged with Forneus proper. High above all the others, a magnificent silver fly burst into the engagement whenever an opening arose. An orange fly somewhere amongst the battle was taking on a seemingly endless tidal wave of nameless flies. The battle only seemed to grow more violent with every second passed, even as hundreds of flies fell to the map below. Littering the carved lines that marked Hell's halls, on the outer edges the flies were pushed outside the lines that marked the great walls. Their bodies rolled over into the part of the map marked 'sulfur'. Those flies melted into puddles, their bodies never to be recovered. The fight drew on.
On Earth, it would be done and over within but a few hours. Someone could order dinner and have eaten in the time it would take for this rebellion to be finished.
For the Demons, though.
From the moment Crawly had walked into the courtroom, just in time to watch as Hastur destroyed Abbadon, to this moment now as they watched a chartreuse fly tear every inch of their opponent to shreds - it had been:
Years.
The flies collapsed on the map would rot. A foul stench filled the air. But Crawly did not flinch, they just watched as the once-great swarm was reduced to a pathetic cloud of insects. Crawly wondered what Hell would do if they could see themselves like this. If Forneus would have stopped before Dagon and Beelzebub could tear them in apart in either direction; their strange organs that did not fit the body of a fly spilled to the map table. If a chartreuse fly and an orange fly would see themselves and realize that they'd just gone around in a great Sisyphean circle. A rise and a fall followed by another rise and fall. A great cry echoed through the halls of Hell. The battle had been won, and all the insects who fought within it unaware of how small they truly were.
As the flies of Beelzebubs army encircled around their leadership, one orange fly looking on as the chartreuse one was lifted above the crowd. Crawly let the smallest of smiles rise to their lips at the sight. They were happy for Hastur. They were. But they could sense the end of something else. So much of their time was dedicated to Earth while Ligur and Hastur worked down in Hell. Of course, they didn't mind, Crawly did have some fun individuals to take up their time while on Earth... Still, something had changed with the flood.
It had been so long since they'd seen the cloister they shared with the other two. And when they returned, it too was flooded. Their sheets that they'd brought down for the others were soaked through with holy water. That didn't matter, though, Crawly didn't expect they'd see the cloister again. Before the flood, they'd spent equal time above and below. As did Hastur, coming up alone or coming up with Ligur. Crawly had liked it most when they both came above. The amount of trouble they could cause was exciting, but every time they came the less trouble they caused together. The farther in between each visit they got. Crawly didn't blame them, especially with the likes of Forneus causing such strife, the two were beyond busy. They had responsibilities of their own. Responsibilities of a higher matter than what they themselves were charged with. Crawly knew they had it good being the on Earth liaison, but that was part of why they liked it when the two came to visit. To get out of Hell, to breath air not plagued by ash, to feel waters not infected with sulfur - or holiness as it was now. The flood, though...
Crawly shook their head, and with a pained breath, they stood from their seat. Walking up to the board, they looked across it as the celebrating flies moved through the halls. The cries of celebratory Demon's echoed like breaking glass throughout Hell. They ignored those flies, though, and sought out another. A solitary one that sat around a table, with a red body and black, glistening wings. Far from the fly of orange and chartreuse, far from the celebrations and the Demons who cheered in glee after the massacre. Crawly reached across the table, over the torn wings, bodies of flies that were torn about the board, blood slick across the map, their fingers danced over the bodies of those who still twitched. Hell had changed. Crawly recognized those among the fallen. Those who'd followed Forneus simply because they wished not to follow Lucifer in the blind manner that they had once followed Her. Those who simply wanted more structure so they might feel safer. Those who were too afraid to tell the likes of Forneus: no. Crawly had hoped it wouldn't happen, but they were no fighter, they were no negotiator. So what came was the will of those who could do something.
Their hand scooped up the red fly they'd sought out. Crawly brought it up to their face, their own yellow eyes looking into the golden mirrors that looked back at them. The little flies gaze almost accusatory.
As if it was trying to say, "What do you mean, 'those who could do something', you could do something do if you'd just bother to try, bother to -"
They looked away from the fly, and back to the parade on the map below. Hell was different, that was sure. Hastur was different, as was Ligur. With a half-cocked smile, they closed their hand tight. Forceful enough that a small pop could be heard. The fly they'd picked up crushed within their grasp. Crawly knew they'd changed too. Greatly so.
Perhaps it was time to change their name.
Something more... Crawly looked up, but not too far up. He didn't care for so much for the top floor. Well, most of the top floor. Crawly turned away, making their exit just as the biggest fly on the field gathered up the noteworthy flies among the field. The group moved to return to the courtroom. It seemed that the main court of Hell had matters to discuss.
Hastur had never been the center of so much attention before. Their eyes locked across the masses that had gathered as they stood next to the thrown of Beelzebub. A sizable chunk was missing from what once filled the grand courtroom. Ligur was at the front of the crowd, alongside Crawly. Neither looked happy. Which was fair, because Hastur wasn't happy either. They wanted to step down from this place. To join them at their side and walk away. But they couldn't. It had been agreed. Hell would stand no chance unless they had ranks. Lord King Beelzebub, Lord Prince Dagon, so many others from Azazel to Orcus given their own titles.
Knights, Baronets, Barons, Viscounts, Earls, Marquess', and then at the top:
"Finally, we promote and honor Hastur for their glorious show of skills upon the battlefields of Heaven and now once again in Hell. A master of strategy and wrath, hereby they shall be Duke Hastur of the first cohort of Hell. May any who invoke their fury be smote in quick fashion."
Hastur felt their body kneel with very little input on their part. A blade hewn from some bone came down on their shoulder. It weighed more than anything had ever felt before. Like the weight of the world had just been laid upon their shoulders and charged with carrying it for all eternity. The blade was lifted and laid back down upon Hastur's opposite shoulder. The hounds started to howl, yet the crowd remained silent. The sword of bone was once again lifted from their shoulder and Hastur rose - taking the offered trophy that Lord Dagon handed them. What remained of a bleeding goat's head, a symbol chosen to now represent Lucifer's army. A symbol of... Satan, as those who were too afraid to speak their Lord's true name, would say. And Hastur turned, their arm already raising the goats head above the crowd and with it, the crowd finally cried out. Cheers in a language that had not yet touched Earth above. A language created, spoken and summoned into reality by Demons.
Yet, Hastur cared not for the cheering masses and their rancourous cries. The pure wave of pride that washed over them was not something they had wished for. Instead, they just looked to their own. Ligur was looking at them, but from this distance, the shade of their eyes could not be seen. For once whatever Ligur was thinking was secret to Hastur. Aside Ligur, Crawly looked. Absent. As if some part of them wasn't actually watching this coronation, had checked out long before Hastur had kneeled and let themself be titled. Perhaps they had.
Tomorrow Crawly would go back up to get an update on the Nazareth situation. It'd be a few months before Crawley and Hastur saw one another when they alongside Ligur would ascend to see what this nine-month plan that Heaven had would result in. That realization awoke something in the back of Hastur's mind. While blood ran down their arms and the new leaders of Hell stood on either side of them, encouraging the cacophony of cheering in the courtroom; Hastur could only think that they had to do something. Well, something else. They were in fact currently doing a lot. But something in regards to Crawly.
Ever a drifting soul, that one. They'd drifted from Raphael's choir to Lucifer's and then from God's word to the Fall. And now. Hastur could see it in the sheer despondence painted on their face. Crawly was drifting from Hell. This time, though, Hastur wasn't sure where they would drift to. If the fledgling Demon did find someone to drift to, what would that entail? Would one-day Hastur find themself stood in this same courtroom again, with the masses of Hell cheering on as Crawly was made an example?
Hastur looked to the Demon, trying to impart in some way the messages that Ligur was so proficient at sending. Silently they begged for those yellow eyes to focus on them, to see and understand. That -
Beelzebub and Dagon moved in from of them, finally relieving Hastur of the bleeding head they'd been presented. By the time they moved again, Crawly was gone, and Ligur was turned away. No doubt looking to see where the fledgling had gone. And Hastur knew that in some hall of Hell, Crawly would slowly saunter their way back to Earth, and they'd not seen the message Hastur had tried to convey:
Don't fear this, it'll be fine - we're family.
Right?