Chapter Text
It genuinely felt like being sucked into the Twilight Zone. The shock of everything had meant that she hadn’t processed everything immediately and she had been left a little dazed.
She hadn’t trusted Belphegor implicitly. She knew from the moment that he tried to claim that he was also a human that he was lying, especially when his eyes matched the ethereal pair of her gluttonous lover, his twin - but could she blame him for the dishonesty at the time? If their positions had been switched, she knew that she would have twisted words to try and get out as well. She’d spent the majority of her childhood lying and manipulating people to ensure her own protection - and so, she’d let it slide.
The joy from the attic had originally been contagious. Belphie would be free - reunited with his brothers and able to mend the bonds between him and Lucifer. This was exactly what she had wanted - happiness in the House of Lamentation. To help her lovers to not dwell on their own sorrow; for Beelzebub to feel whole once more.
So while they weren’t close, she hadn’t been too wary when he’d opened up his arms. If anything, she was pleased to share this moment with him, delighted at the thought to soon bring him down the stairs and back into his own home...
Instead, one of her worst nightmares came to the forefront. This human was inherently a control freak; so it would be easy to deduce that one of the worst things that could be done to her was to have her life taken by another. But to choke her to death, purposely allowing her to be completely aware of what was happening for the duration? She couldn’t have imagined anything worse. The mockery and the power imbalance on top of all of that - it was too much.
What made it worse was the following tornado of confusion. Somehow witnessing him rub it in his brothers’ faces first hand; seeing Mammon’s raw anguish; the revelation of her heritage ; her disbelief at watching the brothers’ reaction to this news ; Diavolo prompting Belphegor to hold her again when mere moments before he had… ; Lilith’s name ringing in her ears ; how the brothers were suddenly clamouring and fawning over her and Belphegor’s insistence on snuggling .
It had been years since she’d had a panic attack. But that night, once she had gotten away from the delusional tea party, when she locked herself in her room and started getting the texts from him, she spiralled. She couldn’t breathe for the second time that day.
‘ Surely ,’ She thought to herself, staring at her ceiling when she had returned to some semblance of calm, ‘ Once the novelty wears off he’ll leave me alone. I’ll be gone in a few months. I doubt we have many overlapping interests. He’ll leave me alone. ’
Over the next few weeks though, she’d proved herself wrong.
The text messages were relentless, filled with selfish requests and laced with sarcasm. Had they been friends, she would’ve appreciated his dark humour and snark - maybe she could have even forgiven his bratty behaviour. Instead, it stoked the coals of her growing rage.
Never did she receive an apology. She didn’t know who to turn to - they all seemed so happy to have him there...even Mammon. Her first man did keep her a bit closer but...anyway.
To keep the peace, she sat and festered in her own misery. Lucifer and Satan seemed to notice how her emotions occasionally iced over and would query her, but she waved it off with thanks and a warm smile; encouragement that she was fine. She was certain that Satan wasn’t buying it and it was getting to the point of straining their relationship...but still, she thought it best to try and sugarcoat it. The Fourth Born may have been her most sympathetic ear...but she didn’t want to sow the seeds of discord. She wondered if the Avatar of Wrath could sense her growing rage, if he could sense that she was beginning to wear masks around all of them, just as he was so accustomed to doing.
Her hot coals burst into flame on the day that Belphegor forced the pact on her. She had already been scared when she realised that she was totally and utterly alone with him - but to have her skin imprinted permanently with his mark was a severe blow.
But still, she bit her tongue.
It was one evening some weeks later that it became too much.
Belphegor had insisted on sitting next to her at dinner, much to her displeasure...but it was something that she could easily ignore by chatting to the others. And so dinner passed without much note, with the exception of the normal boisterous behaviour of her lovers.
Once finished, the chatter continued as she helped to clear the table.
“Fi!” She turned to smile at Mammon, tone bright, “Yes, Mammoney?”
“Wanna finish that TV box set we started? I heard that the finale’s meant to be awesome!”
Before she could reply, the youngest’s drawl cut in, “No. She can’t. She promised to come up to the planetarium with me. Isn’t that right?” Her expression fell and she stared at the Avatar of Sloth. They had discussed no such thing and she would never arrange to do something one-on-one with him.
Their human was always as diplomatic as possible. Her voice was purposefully kept upbeat and light, she very rarely swore in front of everyone and she normally weighed her words very carefully. A beat passed before her reply came out a low and dangerous hiss, without any of her usual sugar coating, “I am sick of your shit , Belphegor.”
A pin drop would have been heard clearly in the House of Lamentation in that moment.