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When little Charlie had gotten her wings, Lucifer had been sitting in his workshop, the thought of creation etched into his mind. He let his magic surge and began to immerse himself into his work, feeling himself slip away to the familiar bliss that came with satisfying the voices in his head screaming at him to create.
He let his imagination take him away— into a world of dreams. Dreams that he had failed to make a reality. Dreams that were passed down to his dear daughter. Just thinking of her made a smile creep onto Lucifer’s face. She was so much like him— he could see himself not only in her dazzling appearance, but in her childish imagination, too. She was still a kid, but still, Lucifer took pride in knowing how alike him and Charlie were.
The King of Hell was so absorbed in himself that he didn’t realize the door creak from behind him— nor did he hear the sound of soft footsteps approaching. It was only when he was lightly tapped on the shoulder that he took note of the person that’d entered the room. He could never mistake their tall figure and cold, piercing eyes.
“Lilith!” Lucifer exclaimed, the smile dying from his face. He couldn’t resist his ecstasy from fading into a world of straight-faced neutrality. “What’re you doing in my workshop? Is something the matter?”
Lilith sighed, taking a step back from where she had positioned herself close to Lucifer’s chair so that the demon could get up. “It’s your daughter,” she said, emotion devoid from her glacial voice. “She’s been locked up in her room for the past two hours. She won’t let me in, either.”
While her mother had always been rather strict on her, Charlie had never refused to let Lilith into her room— she’d always loved her mother, and wasn’t one to shut herself off. A hue of worry made its way into Lucifer’s warm amber eyes. He’d always had a good relationship with his daughter (something that he took pride in)— how could he not? She was the most important thing in Hell to him. There was no way that he wouldn’t go and check on her.
“I’ll see if I can get her to open up,” Lucifer said, concern leaking through his voice. Lilith simply nodded as her husband rushed away in a nervous manner, her gaze lingering on him as he shut the doors to his workplace behind him.
Anxiety found its way into Lucifer’s every step as he strode down the grand corridors of the palace to find Charlie’s room. What could’ve happened to his darling girl— to his everything? He couldn’t bear to think about what could be troubling his daughter so much that she’d sealed herself inside of her room, refusing to let even her mother in. Although her mother was stern; not nearly as supportive and outgoing as her dad.
As he neared Charlie’s room, Lucifer could hear the soft, muffled sound of sobbing. He lightly knocked on the girl’s door, careful not to come off as demanding or angry by knocking too hard.
From inside, her sad, scratchy voice sounded. “M-mom, p-please just g-go away, I-I’m not in the m-m-mood to study,” she cried between hiccups. Lucifer’s expression dropped even more at that— had Lilith really been trying to get their daughter to study with the state she was in right now?
“S-sweetie,” Lucifer said softly, “it’s me.”
“Dad?” Charlie sniffed. Lucifer could hear the young girl scuffling in her room.
“What’s the matter, darling? Are you alright?”
“I’m okay, just need some t-time to myself is all,” said Charlie, doing her utmost to suppress the stream of hiccups that accompanied her sobbing. Lucifer didn’t know what was going on— but, what he did know was that he couldn’t leave his daughter alone to deal with whatever was going on. It’d only make it worse. All too many times had he gone through that— alone with only his tears to accompany him after getting his dreams crushed by heaven.
“I-I know you might want to be by yourself right now,” Lucifer spoke up. “But, being alone won’t make things any better. Please, tell me what’s going on, Char. I can help.”
The sounds of footsteps from inside of Charlie’s room nearing the doorway were barely audible— but the sound of the door creaking open was. It wasn’t opened all the way— only a sliver. But Lucifer could see inside of the room a small splotch of blood on the floor beside his daughter’s bed, which had a patterned crimson blanket hanging off of it. The rest of the covers were scattered across the bed sloppily.
Lucifer gently pushes open the door, careful not to hit Charlie who's hiding behind it. Anxiety pounds at his chest as he enters. With the rest of the room coming into view, he can now see it— the floor is decorated with a sticky red liquid. Blood.
Shutting the door behind him, Lucifer looks on in horror before whipping back around to look at Charlie, who's backed against the wall behind where the door would open. Her face is puffy and red, tears streaming from her eyes in a downpour as she tries to rub them away with the dampened sleeves of her red and white shirt. As worried as Lucifer is, he knows that he has to stay calm.
“Charlie,” he murmurs, his tone laced with concern as he kneels down and gazes softly at his child, putting a comforting hand onto her shoulder. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s okay. Breathe.”
“D-daddy,” Charlie hiccups, “M-my back.”
“What about your back, dear?”
The young girl turns around, and much to Lucifer’s shock and dismay, reveals six small, fluffy red and white wings which have begun to grow from her back. They look just like her father’s— except, smaller. Much, much smaller, which makes sense as they’ve just grown in, and Charlie is only a child. They’re painted with spots of blood and torn, out-of-place feathers.
Charlie turns back around to face her dad, blood dripping from her wounded wings. “Th-they just started growing from m-my back and I-I was so scared,” she sniffs. “A-and they were so itchy and hurt so bad and I tried to stop it and, and—“
“Charlie!” Lucifer exclaimed, cutting her off. He pulls her into a hug. His heart would’ve been swallowed by pride if not for the worry that already enveloped it. But, he had to say calm. “It’s okay, Char. This is wonderful— you have six wings, just like Dad! It’s normal for them to hurt at first. It’s alright.”
Charlie’s breath hitches— “R-really?”
“Yes, duckling. I’ll teach you how to preen them, and get all that blood cleaned off of them so that they won’t hurt anymore,” Lucifer says as he gently releases his daughter from the hug which he’d previously enveloped her in. “I promise, it’ll be alright.”
Charlie nods, her dull expression making way for a smile, albeit faint. She grits her teeth through the pain as she allows her dad to show her to the bathroom, where he fills up a bath so that he can wash the blood off of Charlie’s wings, and maybe ease some of the pain before he’d show her how to preen them.
The girl hesitantly steps into the bath. The water isn’t very high, but is filled enough to where her lower body is submerged— along with the pair of wings that lies farthest down her back. She winces as she sits down, a hint of agony making its way onto her face as she flails her wings in the water.
Lucifer examines her wings and back closely— the skin from where her wings have sprouted is glowing red from her itching and picking at it. He could only see four of Charlie’s wings since the lower two were laying in the water. There were multiple spots where the feathers were disfigured, ripped, or bloodied, some spots worse than others. This wasn’t going to be easy, especially with how much pain Charlie seemed to be in.
Lucifer decides to start with the pair of wings that are lowest on Charlie’s back, which are no longer flailing around in the water but instead sitting limply, blood still leaking from them. He goes to lift one of them up, but the instant his hand touches it, Charlie flinches and pulls away. He can hear her breath hitch.
“Hey, it’s okay, Char— it’s okay,” Lucifer reassures his daughter, offering a warm smile in response to her wide, scared eyes. Her expression is dotted with pain; she looks like a sad puppy. “I would never, ever hurt you, Charlie. Would you please let me touch them?”
The girl doesn’t respond verbally, but instead, scooches closer to her father as she does her best to lift her wings out of the water, albeit painfully.
“Thank you,” Lucifer whispers, affection lining his voice as he lightly, gently lays a hand on Charlie’s bottom left wing. Out of all of the young princess’s wings, this one seemed to be damaged the worst. The feathers on the edge of it are ripped out, twisted and torn.
Lucifer treats his daughters wings as if they are porcelain, working gently and delicately on her feathers. Any that are twisted he does his best to put back into place— any that are too damaged or broken he swiftly plucks (he doesn’t want to prolong Charlie’s pain by doing it slowly) so that new ones can grow in to replace them.
Charlie does her best to sit still— not to move under her father’s delicate touch. But the child wasn’t used to these wings— to being able to feel every feather on them, whether that feather was twisted back into place or plucked out. And, sometimes, it hurt. She could tell that her dad was doing his utmost not to cause her any pain, though.
Sensing his daughter’s discomfort, Lucifer spoke up as he was finishing with her wing, looking for any more feathers that might be out of place. “Now, Charlie. It’s very important that you preen your feathers frequently, or else they might tear.”
Charlie tilts her head. “Daddy, what does ‘preen’ mean?”
Lucifer chuckles. “Well, my little duckling, it means to straighten up your feathers! And, you always have to make sure that you use preening oil, too, so that you don’t break them.”
Charlie nods, flapping her wings as she takes in the information before wincing in pain. Her dad comfortingly puts his right hand on her shoulder before setting the one that he’d been preening back down into the water.
“All done with that one! Take a look, Char.”
Charlie lifts her wing out of the water, staring at in awe. All of her feathers had been straightened out, and the blood washed off. It was beautiful, just like her father’s.
“I-it doesn’t hurt as much, either,” Charlie gasps, moving her wing a little. Lucifer smiles. It was still sore, sure, but it didn’t hurt to the touch anymore. She can feel her bottom right wing being lifted up, a sharp wave of pain shooting through her as her father starts to preen again.
“Dad,” Charlie starts. “Do you preen your wings?”
Lucifer suppresses a small laugh. “Of course! If I didn’t preen my wings, they might get dirty or start to hurt, and I wouldn’t be able to fly.”
“Daddy, will I be able to fly when I get older?”
“Of course, dear,” Lucifer says through a smile.
“Oh, will my wings get as big as yours, dad?”
Actually, Lucifer didn’t know the answer to that. He thought about it as he twisted another dislocated feather back into place, wondering how Charlie would look with such a grand wingspan.
“Well, they’ll get bigger as you get older. But, I’m not sure if they’ll get as big as mine. Even if they don’t, I’m sure they’ll still be beautiful, Char.”
Charlie beamed at this, a kiddish smile stretched wide across her face. The two went on in childish conversation like this as Lucifer preened Charlie’s wings. The girl would often look back as her father worked, and he’d notice this. He’d teach her what to do— how to fix a dislocated feather, how to pluck a broken one, and even how to clean them in the bath.
With everything that her dad told her, Charlie listened intently. After all, if she wanted to have wings like his when she grew up, she had to take care of them! Charlie giggled as she pictured herself flying over hell, her wings brilliant amongst the hellish red sky. Her dad was there with her, too— he was soaring through the air in front of her, showing her the way to a grandiose city—
“And, done!” Lucifer exclaimed, finishing with the last of his daughter’s wings. Charlie had been wrapped up in her own imagination, and jumped when his voice arose. But she couldn’t stop herself from turning around to admire her wings, and by god were they stunning.
The blood patches on them were completely gone so that they were spotless and fluffy. The feathers on them were now straight and in their appropriate places. There was a noteable skin-colored patch on her middle right wing where a lot of her lovely crimson feathers had been ripped out. But, Lucifer assured Charlie that they’d grow back.
The King of Hell can’t resist a bright expression from making its way onto his face as he observes his daughter looking at her wings in awe. She was making slight movements with them, too, and Lucifer can tell that she’s relieved to be able to move them again, although they were probably still a little sore.
“Alright!” Lucifer says as he magically summons a towel, beckoning Charlie to get out of the bath so that he can wrap it around her. “Let’s get you out of this bath and dry you off so that we can go clean up that room of yours, yeah?”
A small smile comes onto Charlie’s face, and she nods. Lucifer opens his arms in a hug that his daughter gladly accepts. He holds her close. He’ll never let her go— not ever. And with her newly sprouted wings, the resemblance that his beloved little girl bore to him was even more striking.
And someday, he’ll teach her to fly.