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Now, this wasn’t an ideal situation.
Well- when it comes to war, no one actively chooses to instigate one. The preferred outcome is always avoiding conflict, finding a civilised way on solving any tensions. Sometimes, though, that just doesn’t work so you find yourself fighting for a cause, more violently than you had anticipated.
It was what Lucifer was currently stuck doing. Not that he actually had a problem with this, he wasn’t intimidated by the idea of war. In fact, he believed he and his brothers probably knew first hand what war can bring. This was more of a hindrance. Something to take time away from the ever-growing paperwork at his desk. In all honesty, this was just a group of demons who didn’t agree with Diavolo’s ideals and decided to take matters into their own hands. A Coup d’état of sorts, a feeble attempt to climb the power ladder without really trying.
These were demons he didn’t often cross paths with. Most gathering from outsider counties, the ones that were far enough from the capital to gain a good few supporters without being noticed. So, once they came rushing in, unannounced and armed, it was simply a matter of hastily gathering troops to combat this. Nothing they couldn’t handle.
Somewhere across the deep crimson landscape, he could faintly hear the crashing waves and directing orders coming from Leviathan. He truly transformed when he was needed, into a demon so confident and in charge Lucifer wondered if Commander Levi and his brother Levi were the same demon.
He knew his other brothers were scattered around elsewhere too. Except maybe Belphie, who was probably asleep somewhere, hidden from the conflict. He knew Satan would be happily wreaking havoc, he always did enjoy being able to let loose with no repercussions. Beel would be steadfast as always, the quicker they win the quicker they get to celebrate (so the quicker they get to the food) Asmo would always claim that fighting was so uncivilised and messy but then in the blink of an eye his smirk was calculating and controlling, alluring opponents into defeat without them realising.
The only brother he could see right now was Mammon. He was unreadable when it came to these sorts of fights. Not just in the sense of not knowing what his next move would be, but also in the sense that Lucifer could never understand what was going on beneath the walls of his mind. He was always quick to wear his emotions on his sleeve, whether he meant to or not. But here, hand in hand, in battle, he was neutral. Effective. Quick. Lucifer and Mammon always stuck close, they worked well like this, no need for verbal communications. Just quickly eliminating enemies left, right, and centre. Lucifer briefly thinks it’s because of all the years they trained together, back when they had pure white wings and uncracked halos over their heads. He doesn’t have time to think much else as he successfully steps out the way of a demon trying to tackle him, Mammon quickly sweeping in, one single swipe has the demon withering into the soil below.
“How much longer ya think these guys will keep trying?” Mammon asks, scanning the grounds, “not as if they have many left.”
He had a point. The group had been whittled down. So had theirs, as it always is with battles like these, but they’re much better off than the opposing. Either this is going to end in complete eradication or a white flag waving cowardly in the wind. Lucifer isn’t swaying towards any particular option; he just wants to go home.
“Let’s hope it ends quickly,” is all he responds with.
“Ya bored already?” A flash of Mammon’s teasing personality shines through the cracks of whatever barricade he puts up during these fights.
“Honestly? Yes, these guys are simply-” he doesn’t have time to finish the light-hearted conversation as he is violently reminded that they are in the middle of a battle and that is no place for brotherly chit-chat. He spots it too late, a demon with a dagger hidden up his sleeve, the blade barely glinting in the darkened light. It only allows him a split-second decision and all his brain can suffice is that he’d rather get hit any day of the week than any of his brothers having to suffer.
If it killed him, then so be it. He’d rather die and have his brothers live happily.
So, with a heavy push and a confused huff from Mammon, the younger demon goes tumbling down and Lucifer is not far behind until he feels what he had been expecting all along, hot, and sharp within his abdomen. It tears trough skin sickeningly slowly, as his body falls to the side and the demon finally let’s go, having satisfactorily left a decent sized mark on Lucifer. The stinging worms it’s way into his core as he’s left panting, his bloodied gloves doing nothing to stop the flow gushing out.
His mind is too hazed to notice Mammon is unnaturally quick to dispose of the problem and is already by Lucifer’s side in a matter of seconds. When a second pair of hands push down on the open wound, his hisses through his front teeth. The ringing in his ears block out Mammon’s soft apology.
Lucifer had been through many terrible, painful, horrific events in his life. He’d fallen from grace, lost his dignity, lost himself, suffered the loss of two wings. He had managed to bring himself back from what had felt like the end. Surely he had been through worse things- but lying on the muddy ground, the rush of blood not stopping, he considered that this could actually be the end. The pain had steadied out and he was certain that meant his body could be going into shock. He felt the tips of his fingers tremble and the pounding in his head grow. Barely louder than the throbbing in his ears, he heard Mammon's voice, strained tight and thin, “yer an idiot, ya hear me? I know ya can Lucifer- hey don’t- don’t fall asleep on me!”
He can’t muster up the strength to respond, instead he let’s his hand gently squeeze Mammon’s before even that feels like too much. As his hands roll off to the side, he realises that he had been the one hurt, just as he had intended. The thought was warm and soft and lulled him into unconsciousness.
--
When he wakes up, he's painfully aware of the bandages scratching at his skin. The steady beeping to his side, the mechanical whir filling the seemingly empty room.
Well- almost empty.
He already knew, from the minute he cracked open his eyes, he was in hospital. Embarrassingly, he’d been here enough times to recognise the pearly white walls, the sterile floors, the concoctions of bleaches and chemicals tickling at his nose. It was so artificially clean and plain, and it was already bringing on a migraine. Or perhaps that was because he had been severely wounded during the fight. Thinking about it just made his head throb more.
Across the room, curled up in one of the chairs, was Mammon. It didn’t look comfortable, the chairs were just as squeaky clean as the rest of the room, hard plastic that rubbed your skin raw if you moved the wrong way. Yet, he was curled up, knees pressed into his chest and shoes just about balancing on the edge. His eyes were shut.
Lucifer tried not to wake him as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the way his insiders burned. He knew Mammon was a light sleeper though, and just as he suspected, the squeaking of the bed caused his brothers eyes to open. Then, they widened, as he got up quickly and crossed the room.
“You’re awake,” he perched himself on the end of the empty bed next to Lucifer.
“I am, yes.”
Mammon, once again, is unreadable. His expression is blank, eyes seemingly dark. It’s unlike anything he’s seen Mammon do. It’s serious, he realises. Mammon obviously has strong emotions about this whole ordeal.
“Let me ask yer this,” he starts off bluntly, “why did you do it?”
“Do what? Push you out of the way?”
“Yes! I could’ve handled it just fine.”
Lucifer sighs, “it was an ambush, Mammon. We weren’t expecting that one demon to attack so I reacted quickly. It was what I had to do.”
“And look where you’ve ended up,” Mammon crosses his arms.
“It was a stab wound, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”
“That isn’t the point Lucifer. The dude was already ready to bring the knife down again, if I hadn’t stepped in you could’ve been left in a much worse state.”
When he had made the decision to push Mammon out the way, he had realised this. Accepted that his split-second decision could lead to something much worse. He was pride, after all. He didn’t choose anything that wasn’t worth it. If the outcome was worse, it wouldn’t have swayed his opinion.
“It was necessary.”
“It was stupid, that’s what it was!” In all his life Lucifer didn’t think he’d seen Mammon get genuinely angry. The sort of frustration that one tried to hide but it forces its way out anyway. Yet here he was, being scolded by his younger brother, “why would ya do that?”
Lucifer paused, he didn’t like the fact that Mammon was unreadable. It was uncomfortable.
“Can I ask you something?” Lucifer responds with a question instead. There’s a new line of thought in his mind, fresh and unpredictable. He’s in hospital, bandaged up, so there’s probably no time to ask about it but the present.
“That doesn’t answer my question-”
“If I died, would you guys finally be happy?”
Mammon opens his mouth. Then closes it again. He does this a few times before spluttering, “where the fuck did that come from?”
Lucifer shrugs. Shrugs as if he’s not just exposed a deep dark thought that had been plaguing his mind for some time now. As if he hasn’t just dropped a bomb, heavy and suffocating into the room. As if his actions on the battlefield, his protection towards his brothers, morphs into a carelessness towards himself. That self preservation was not the same as pride- he prided himself on being proper and making the right choices in terms of his family. Self preservation would’ve stopped him from making a choice that could have dire consequences.
“It was just a thought.”
“Just a thought?” Mammon splutters out and Lucifer is taken aback at the real, raw anger that laces his younger brother’s words. “That isn’t just a thought, Lucifer. I can’t believe you’d say that- you’d think that-”
There’s emotion in the room now. Emotions that Lucifer can read and digest. That he can pick apart and analyse. Mammon is angry at him, for suggesting the idea that Lucifer doesn’t value his own life. That he’d throw it away in a heartbeat if it meant his brothers could live happily. It’s confusing, to say the least.
“You’re upset at what I’ve suggested,” Lucifer points out.
“Well yeah,” Mammon shoots back and Lucifer sees that he’s close to tears. It sends a wave of guilt through him, an uneasy twisting in his chest. “Luci yer just asked me if I would be happy if yer died.”
“I did.” He responds a little too nonchalantly. “You guys are quick to complain about me, how strict I always am. It was just a thought, about how if I weren’t around then you guys might enjoy life a bit more.”
Mammon stares. He stares long and hard. Then blinks, slowly, and suddenly he is rushing forward without any warning. Lucifer braces himself for a slap or a hit or anything but instead he is engulfed in a hug. Tight arms wrapping around him, Mammon pressing his face into Lucifer’s chest.
“Yer an idiot,” his words are muffled but the room is quiet enough for Lucifer to pick them up, “ya hear me? An absolute idiot.”
“I-” a response disappears on his tongue, he’s unable to form words. Unable to process Mammon’s words too. If he dissects them, then it implies that Lucifer had been wrong this whole time- that once again his selfish pride was pushing others away. Turning away even his own brothers.
“Promise me something,” Mammon pulls away, directly looks at Lucifer with glossy eyes, “promise me ya won’t think like that, not anymore.”
A pause. “Alright.”
Mammon continues, “because you can’t die- what would I- what would we do with you gone?”
“You’d be a good oldest brother,” Lucifer responds, barely a whisper.
“No, no I wouldn’t. Theres only one oldest brother we want and that’s you.”
Lucifer blinks, taken aback.
“I mean it, Lucifer,” he repeats, “I can’t lose yer. No- we can’t lose yer, got it?”
Lucifer nods weakly. It’s a hard slap to the face, being told things he doesn’t truly believe whereas Mammon seems so passionate about them. Mammon, who is sat in front of him, staring directly into his soul. With honest and sincere eyes, golden flecks, and amber swirls. His brother, who wears his emotions on his sleeve, is showing Lucifer kindness. Real kindness. Something he truly believes he does not deserve.
He's pulled into another hug, warm and comforting. Mammon speaks, voice tired yet steady, “you are loved, Luci.”
He’s starting to believe that may be true.