Chapter Text
Everything is burning.
"Diavolo, he - " you choke out, Beel wraps his arms around you in a hug. Melting into it, you close your eyes and return the embrace. Even as you hide your face in Beel's usual scent, the smell of acrid smoke on his clothes burns your nostrils.
"We know. Hold on tight."
Beel's black, gossamer wings flutter out behind him. You feel him tense, crouching before the ground disappears from beneath your feet. Gasping, you clutch at the other's shoulders - smoke billows from the streets of the Celestial Realm, once glorious in its marble structures, cream stone arches.
"How could this happen?" You ask, working past the lump in your throat.
Beel's clenched jaw and silence speak volumes. You share his frustration. This was supposed to be the showcase of two years of work - your exchange program couldn't have gone better. Passing with flying colors (with the aid of the brothers and other friends you'd made along the way) you saw Diavolo's vision in the distance.
You went back to the human world for barely a month before you received the offer - not an Ambassador like Solomon. Your magic paled in comparison to his, and your lineage/celestial ties made you ineligible for the position, but…
("Human Realm… Advisor?"
"You can't speak for the human world in the council, your Celestial ancestors make that a bit of a conflict of interest… but you offer wisdom and fresh insight that I believe will be a wonderful addition to the world I am trying to create." Diavolo smiles at you, sitting on your living room couch like it's the most natural thing in the world. Lucifer stands in the doorway, holding a cup of tea in one of your mugs brewed fresh by Barbatos.
He smiles as he takes a sip, looking more handsome than you remembered.)
The exchange program, following the utter success of the first year, triples in size for its second year. They build more lodging, and as the Human World Advisor, you found yourself smoothing out the wrinkles of an increased integration between devils, angels, and humans.
In most cases, this meant being a support system for humans struggling with the revelation of Divinity. Regardless, the last two years have been the best of your life. An almost alarming juxtaposition from the blasé life you led before the brothers, you have spent these years revelling in more happiness than you could have ever hoped to ask for.
With the camaraderie nurtured by the first group of exchange participants, Diavolo's dream - true peace and co-existence between the three realms - seemed possible.
Until the Summit arrived.
Once your feet touch the ground again, you find that Beel has flown the two of you to the balcony of the guest wing assigned to the devils. It's only moments before the doors fly open and you both are wrapped in the sweet smell of Asmo's perfume. Eventually, he lets go of you and Beel. You hear what happened from Asmo, his second-hand retelling filled with enough detail to catch you up to speed, but not enough to satisfy.
The agreed meeting time arrived, the Devildom and Human Realm representatives arrived at the agreed location - but He did not show up. Michael, and his enormous white wings, had stepped through the door instead.
With respectful, somber tones, it was shared that He would not be coming, but He knew that Michael would represent His best wishes.
"Something in Diavolo snapped," Asmo presses his fingertips into the furrow of his brows, massaging at the skin. A strange preventative measure for wrinkles that a demon like Asmo would never develop. "Michael just stood there."
You clutch at Beel's arm.
"Snapped?" Looking around the balcony, you realize it's only the four youngest brothers. The three eldest are nowhere to be seen. You speak again before anyone has a chance to reply to your first question.
"Where's everyone else?"
"After the initial surprise, we lost them in the fighting," Satan says, not looking from his watchful place peeking through the drawn shut curtains. Past his head, you see the dark plumes of smoke billowing into the sky.
"I saw Mammon fighting a vassal of Diavolo's," Beel’s brows are scrunched together as if he can hardly believe it - you almost can't as well. You know the brothers had inhuman strength, but the era of the Celestial War was so far behind them, you’d never known them to seriously use it. "I got separated from them, and knew I had to come find you."
There's an unspoken frenetic energy to his words - you want to ask him about it, but you miss your chance as the conversation continues past.
"When I last saw them, Levi and Solomon were together at the gates helping with the wounded," Asmo offers. Your frown deepens - Levi hadn't even wanted to come. It seems his inclinations were correct.
That's covered everyone except - Your lips barely get the chance to form his name when Belphie interrupts.
"Lucifer's at his side like a dog," Belphegor snarls, his tail whipping at the floor with agitation. He paces across the tiled floor, a harsh contrast to his usual groggy demeanor. His favorite pillow is gripped in his white knuckled fists.
You blink, stunned and speechless. At Diavolo’s side? What does that mean? Lucifer would never fight his brothers - not to truly harm them. You would never believe that Lucifer’s loyalty to Diavolo superseded his love of his brothers, regardless of what he sometimes implied.
"He has no choice, Belphie." Satan protests, his own frustration evident in how he presses his fingers to his temples. There's clear, barely controlled anger bubbling under his skin, but it's his words that draw the real reaction. His words are met with resounding silence, and an array of surprised expressions.
The relationship between the first and fourth brothers has gotten better incrementally over the last year, but he's still the least likely brother to stand up for Lucifer. Satan frowns, clearly not a fan of the scrutiny. He glances at you with a somber twinge to his green eyes, "He swore an oath. His servitude for Lilith's safety."
You freeze, heart dropping into your stomach. You look down, eyes focusing on the intricate gray marbling of the floors.
"But she's been dead for hundreds of years!" Asmo says, and Beel tightens his grip around you. The extent of Lucifer's oath hasn't been tested in a long time - not since he lied to Diavolo about Belphegor's whereabouts during the first exchange program.
"But she was saved to begin with. That's what matters," Asmo finishes, bitter understanding entering his delicate features. He wraps his arms around himself, and it seems to offer him some comfort.
It's not your fault - you know this. It wasn’t even Lilith’s fault, thousands of years ago, and even then, it was Lucifer's choice to make the oath.
The thought isn't as comforting as you hoped it would be.
"That's ridiculous," Belphie says - but you can see that Satan’s words have had some kind of effect on him. The cold glint to his eyes softens just in the slightest.
"Belphie, it makes sense." Beel reaches out to his twin, and Belphie, unable to deny Beel, acquiesces. Belphie joins the space under Beel's other arm. He bristles at first when you touch him, but relaxes when you don't hesitate.
"So," You press a fond hand to Belphie's cheek, and he nuzzles into it despite himself, "What do we do?"
"We will go find them," Satan says, voice full of purpose as he makes eye contact with each of the other brothers, one by one. You watch this happen, acutely aware that something is being unsaid. Asmo lets out a quiet gasp of displeasure, hand pressed against his collarbone. Beel and Belphie frown, even as they nod. You narrow your eyes at Satan.
"What are you saying?" You jump as the twins release you, and not surrounded by their warmth, you shudder at the surprise chill.
"You're a human, love," Asmo reaches out and links his hands with yours. You don't snatch your hand away, hurt, like you want to - instead you squeeze, because you don't want them to leave you behind.
"No."
"Your magic isn't as powerful as Solomon’s. He could fight back if he had to," Asmo rubs his thumbs on the back of your hands, and it’s almost enough to soothe you -
"No, you can't leave me behind. No, no, no - " you shake your head, releasing Asmo and stepping back. You glare at each of them, at these stupid, wonderful devils that have made their homes in your heart. Celestial powers be damned, you can't let them go alone.
"Be reasonable," Satan tries, always the rational one, "We can't guarantee your safety out there. We can't know what Diavolo's true plan is."
"Exactly! We don't know! You could be going right into a trap."
"We'll be fine," Asmo swoops in, cupping your cheeks and stroking at an infuriating, traitorous tear, the room seeming to grow smaller in your panic. Is it the rushing of blood in your ears, or is that the sound of screaming from somewhere in the courtyard below the balcony? The solution strikes you like lightning, sucking the air out of your lungs.
"I'll use our pact," you say.
The brothers freeze.
You haven’t used your pacts with them for anything like this in a long time. It is Beel who speaks up after the long silence.
"No."
His lips are pressed together, a thin line of displeasure. He looks at the other brothers, "You all go. I'll follow."
The brothers exchange looks, but as you move to open your mouth to protest, Beel grabs you by the shoulders. He gently shakes you, forcing you to look at him, instead of the rapidly escaping brothers.
“Do not do this.” His voice around your name is a soft, familiar rumble. You find yourself being mad at him for using it now, of all times.
Your hands lay flat on the fabric of his shirt, incredulous as you narrow your eyes at him, “How could you ask this of me?”
“We have lost someone once already. I - ” Beel stops himself, frowns, as if feeling the word in his mouth before he says it, “ - We do not want to lose anyone else.”
You finally register the source of his frenetic energy from earlier. It’s fear. Beel is afraid.
(But is it any wonder? He still dreams of her falling. You have fallen asleep with him in your arms, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.)
"Please," he says, and oh hell, it almost sounds like begging. Your fists are clenched so tight they tremble, tears of frustration burning your eyes - but, fuck fuck fuck - you nod.
It is the hardest thing you have ever done.
You swear by all the seven layers of hell that you tried to keep your promise. You stayed in the room, even as every fibre of your being begged you to leave, gather your hapless boys, and book it back to the Devildom. Even if you aren’t sure that the Devildom is something you could go back to.
Regardless, far from content, you had remained.
Until you hear shouting.
Loud crashing noises come from further down the hall, falling rubble causing tremors in the ground.
“Heeeeelp!” You crack open the door just in time to see Luke turn the far corner of the hall into your view. He’s doing a mix of frantic running and bursts of flight, his downy white wings struggling to assist him. You open the door more, and call out to him.
“Luke!” He sees you, and relief washes over his face. He’s yards closer to you when a devil twice your size comes crashing around the corner after Luke. Luke sees it over his shoulder, shouting again in terror. You’ve never seen devils like this - all the ones at RAD had some human-like features. The only thing similar to a human in this beast is the fact that it stands on two legs.
It roars, chasing Luke down the hall. He somehow makes it to your room, and you slam the door shut behind him.
"Quick, the wardrobe!" You and Luke shove the wardrobe to cover the door, but it won't last. You grab Luke by the hand and head to the opposite side of the room, away from the door. You’d have a chance to get out by the balcony this way - you might not be able to fly, but you could probably scale down the side of the building if you had to.
It’s only a few seconds after you’ve propped the wardrobe in front of the door that the devil starts to bang on the outside. The strikes are solid, you both wince as each hit shakes the walls around you.
The deluge ceases, and for a moment, you let yourself hope that it gave up. No such luck, it seems, as there is one last mighty roar before the door is punched in. The wardrobe crashes to the floor, the door in pieces in the frame.
The devil is even uglier up close, and you and Luke shout in fear. Luke grabs your sleeve, points at the side of the room, then himself and the other side of the room. Somehow, you understand what he’s saying to do, and you nod. You hope it works.
As the devil charges straight towards you, you and Luke bolt in different directions around it to the exit. The elation you feel as you clear the doorway makes you laugh in exhilaration, but it’s short lived as the devil spins on its heel and comes straight for you.
You dive out of the way, barely missing the outstretched claws grasping for you. Thanking your parents for all those forced sports attempts, you’re well aware of the correct way to fall, rolling forward to avoid injury. Reflexes only get you so far, and you can only keep dodging until the devil catches on. You’ve got to figure out something else, or the two of you are screwed.
There has to be a weapon somewhere here.. You look around, but there’s nothing around. Luke has his sword drawn, but he’s clearly terrified. You should call one of the brothers, they’ll come if you call -
“Get back!” Simeon shouts, before he’s diving down from the air into the devil.
The devil hisses in pain as Simeon manages to get in a strike. Simeon’s element of surprise lasts only momentarily before the other lashes back - and just like that, you’re seeing your first true example of an angel’s strength.
Simeon fights while flying, his elegant wings slicing through the air as he brandishes a long silver sword. A glittering blue jewel that matches his eyes is set into the pommel, and his strikes are effortless. As talented a fighter Simon seems, there’s a sluggishness to him that seems out of the ordinary for the other. For a moment, it seems like Simeon will win this fight.
How could this monster win against a fighter as graceful and quick as Simeon?
But then you can only watch in horror as Simeon jerks after moving a certain way, wincing. The hesitation is all the leeway the beast needs as he swings a huge, clawed arm through the air. It collides with Simeon, sending him crashing into one of the walls. It crumbles on top of him, dust and ash filling the air. You do not see him get up, squeezing Luke in your arms. The devil rears its ugly head to the both of you. It snarls, red eyes sizing you up.
“You don’t have to do this,” You say, one hand reaching out, a last, feeble attempt at defusing the situation. The brothers were reasonable, why should communication only work with the ones on the council?
A moment passes where the beast tilts his head to the side, before his snarl grows into a toothy grin.
“But I want to.”
It lunges towards you and Luke, you close your eyes as you raise your arm in a feeble attempt to block the attack. You hear the sound of a blade slicing through the air, a gurgled shout, a heavy thud.
The attack never comes.
You open your eyes to see the angel standing in front of the two of you. Simeon is breathtaking, your new personal picture definition of a guardian angel with his striking dark skin and ethereal wings still glowing underneath the soot covering him. The long silver sword in his hand glints as the angle changes, ashes of the devil dripping from the blade.
“Simeon!” Luke shouts, his fists in the air. Simeon’s sword disappears. He turns to smile at the two of you. Something is not right.
At first, you think it’s a trick of the light. Simeon stumbles, one step, another step - you’re rushing forward before you realize it, grunting when you both tumble to the ground.
You never knew angels could bleed.
But then there’s Simeon, and he’s doing a whole damn lot of it right in your arms.
Bleeding might not be the right term for it - the angel in your arms with the huge gash across his front isn’t oozing blood. Rather, something that resembles a liquid gold. Ichor, your mind supplies. The blood of the gods. There are constant, dizzying reminders that you are in a league of beings far above your own. Perhaps it’s just the blood making you lightheaded.
“Simeon, oh, Simeon,“ Luke is wailing, on his knees in front of you and Simeon. Simeon places one hand on his chest, touching around the wound.
He winces, but smiles again.
“Luke, you really need to learn to lighten up.” Simeon closes his eyes and lays his head back against your shoulder, his dark hair fanning across you.
“But you’re dying,” Luke sobs, and Simeon opens one eye to peer at him.
“Dying? Where did you get a crazy notion like that?” Simeon closes his eyes again, “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to rest.”
Now that you can have a coherent thought past sheer panic and alarm at the whole golden blood thing, you’re intimately aware of how soft Simeon’s wings are against your touch. His aura is soothing to be around, even though he’s injured. This close to him, you see that there are other various scrapes and cuts on the other’s body. He must have been nearby when it all started and got caught in the resulting fray.
“What happened, Simeon?” You ask, although you’re not quite sure you’ll want to hear it. The angel doesn’t respond for a long moment.
“I tried to prevent this from happening. I told him,” Simeon opens his eyes, looking up at you. “I told Diavolo that He wouldn’t show up. Diavolo didn’t believe me.” He sighs, closing his eyes again.
“He said that after all this work, He would of course show up,” he sounds as close to bitter as you’ve ever heard him. You chew on your lip.
“It’s only the second year of the exchange program?” You say, but Simeon shakes his head.
“Diavolo’s efforts have been going on for far longer than this little project of his.” Right, Diavolo made a pact with Lucifer immediately after the battle that killed Lilith, thousands of years ago. It checks out, and you tell him as much. “He’s furious that for all the work he’s put into this, it appears that He refuses to properly acknowledge his efforts.”
“What Diavolo doesn’t understand is...” Simeon begins, and Luke sits upright.
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?! That’s forbidden knowledge!” Luke protests, but Simeon gives him a level stare.
“Look around us, Luke. What more harm could it do?” He says, and Luke looks like he’s about to protest, but doesn’t. Simeon sits up in your arms, one hand going to his wound. You and Luke both reach out to him, but he waves you away with the other hand. He props himself against the wall. His blood is like a concentrated pigment of gold on your hands, slick between your fingers.
“It’s not the entire reason Lucifer rebelled, but it’s part of it.” Your breath catches in your throat. None of the brothers like to talk about it. Most of them dance around the subject completely. “There’s little chance of Diavolo getting an audience with Him, because no one’s actually seen Him in years.”
“What does that mean?” You ask, all the while wondering how the hell that’s even remotely possible.
“It’s heresy to do so…” Simeon’s light blue eyes are unreadable, and you feel as if though you will never know what he is truly thinking here.
“But there are those that claim the throne is empty.”
Everything stops.
You look down, the rumpled green fabric of your button up growing dark with blood. Your lips part in a silent cry, Mammon's arms suddenly wrapping around you as he lowers you to the ground. He's being so gentle with you, you want to tease him about it. His lips are forming words, but it's become harder to follow.
" - oi, you stupid human. Pay attention to me! Whaddaya think you're doing, getting in the way like that?!" Lucifer looms over his shoulder, a frozen, horrified expression on his beautiful face. You're happy to see him.
"I'm sorry," it takes you a moment to muster a smile, "You know I'm too nosy for my own good." The last word ends on a cough.
Lucifer's face quickly darkens with rage. His wings, expand to their full, outstretched lengths. His eyes burn as they linger on you, before they look up to glare at someone you can't turn to see. He takes one step forward, before his expression turns stunned. He takes another, as if he can’t believe it - the third step, and a determined, vicious look settles over Lucifer’s face.
As funny as it sounds, you’re vaguely comforted by Lucifer’s conviction.
"The oath is broken," Satan says, shock in his voice. You find yourself not sure what he means by that.
Lovingly, you place a hand on Mammon's cheek, who's getting your blood all over him as he holds you close. He looks scared, and young - as young as a being who has lived over a millenia can look. You would be worried about him, about all of these brothers that have wormed their way close to your heart… but you know that Lucifer will always take care of them, with or without you there.
You smile at Mammon.