Chapter Text
No one could truly understand the inner machinations of the three realms. Humans searched for the answer, fearing what they could never understand and rebelling against what they could. Angels never bothered to ask the question. What use is a question without an answer?
Demons had no such qualms. Living in the darkness of the realms, demons did more than ask. They explored and they exploited. But sometimes, the search would lead to a dead end. When faced with the unknown, demons took after their human counterparts. They rebelled, attempting to make the Devildom bend to their wills.
Of course, they were fools. No one knew this better than Diavolo.
As the heir to the throne, Diavolo knew better than anyone that the unknown should be welcomed like an old friend. What use was it to keep the status quo? Why not embrace the unknown and take a risk?
Diavolo always lived by that mindset. It led him to the brothers, to his agreement with Lucifer. Diavolo was always honest with his intentions, having a fallen angel as an ally was a curious development. What use was there in fearing the brothers when they were stuck in the Devildom forever? No, it was best to keep them close. It was the best decision Diavolo ever made.
Admittedly, he could never explain why he made the brothers the Avatars of Sin. It simply felt right. Seven fallen siblings, broken and charred, lost and without purpose. What else was Diavolo to do?
Years, decades, millennia went by with no issue. The brothers established their place in the Devildom. For the most part, demons welcomed them. The demon nobility was riled up at first, but after some turnover, they appeared to calm down.
Hm. Maybe Diavolo was the fool.
Barbatos was a fantastic teacher, but even he couldn’t force Diavolo to remember everything. Besides, Lucifer learned the old laws. He would consult with Barbatos about adjustments and updates and present them to Diavolo. Sometimes, Diavolo would implement their suggestions. Sometimes, the old law was so funny that Diavolo would keep it. Sometimes, the law was so rooted in ancient culture that Diavolo wouldn’t dare to touch it.
That was something his father did frequently, which led to multiple failed rebellions. His father ruled with an iron fist and made an example of dissenters. Diavolo was not his father, refused to be his father. By no means was Diavolo a pushover, he’d make a demonstration if he had to, but he never wanted to rule through fear. He had an image he wanted to portray, limit the infighting as much as possible. After centuries of work, it did pay off.
So maybe he did want to keep the status quo. Maybe he wasn’t as fearless as he thought. He knew fear, but he hadn’t felt true horror in a very long time. True petrification. Icy tendrils of panic gripping his heart, stealing his breath away with the knowledge that all he could do was watch and scream and beg. Time simultaneously moved too fast and too slow. His heart pounding in his ears. His hands in fists, clenched so hard as to draw blood. Tears, burning his eyes yet refusing to fall. And the regrets, oh the regrets, echoing in his head.
Why didn’t he listen to Barbatos? Why was he afraid of the unknown? Would things be different if he was more serious? More attentive? Someone he never wanted to be?
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t change it now. He could be left to his regrets and guilt when all was said and done. But right now, he needed to take action.
With his heart in his stomach, Diavolo moved to the edge of his balcony. Even from here, he could hear Mammon and Asmodeus screaming. He blocked them out, urging his voice to stay steady and strong. Gripping the railing, Diavolo composed himself into the fearless, ruthless leader his father always wanted him to be, and gave the order.
“Lucifer, yield.”