Chapter Text

Golden light spread over the palace grounds, illuminating the soaring turrets and thick impenetrable walls. Down in the gardens, the magnolia trees swayed in the morning dew, waving soft greetings to the royal gardeners as they stepped out of the pavilion with garden shears and clippers in hand. Every now and then, a bird greeted the morning with a joyful melody, casting its song all over the pristine grounds.

As this golden morning light filtered through the curtains of her chamber, she immediately groaned and turned the other way. She buried her face further into her pillow, desperately clinging to whatever dregs of sleep were left. A tiny stirring in her heart told her that this wouldn’t work for much longer. Inwardly, she scowled and batted that feeling away. Maybe they would have a little mercy on her today. Maybe it was actually earlier than they both thought. Maybe-

“Rise and shine, Princess!”

Charlotte shrieked as her curtains were yanked open with a sharp snap, causing her to roll right off her bed. She nearly hissed as the golden light flooded her room, sending a squinting glare at the tall figure framed in front of the window. Her governess let out a small laugh as she brought over the tray of tea and freshly baked croissants.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” she said, smile widening as Charlotte grumbled and began dropping sugar cubes into her tea. “Normally I would tell that silly father of yours that you deserve your beauty sleep, but even I can’t deny that committing a faux pas with these fellas would spell big trouble for the kingdom.”

Charlotte groaned and took a sip from the cup. The delicate, floral notes of darjeeling tea gently danced across her tongue. It perked her up just a bit, enough to send a smile towards the tall woman. “It’s fine, Rosie. Just another diplomatic whatever I gotta do, right?”

Rosie sighed as she pulled up a chair and sat down, opening up a notebook she had retrieved from the nightstand. “Correct. I keep telling your father that he doesn’t need to get so involved with everything going on with you, but he insists on setting up these things anyways.”

“He’s just trying to help,” Charlotte said. She began picking apart the croissants in front of her. “Ever since Mom died, I think he’s just sorta come to realize that ruling this place is a lot for just one person, even with a powerful daemon contracted to him.”

“And that’s what my job is for,” Rosie said. “To make sure that even if you can’t find a suitable partner to help you rule when the time comes that you and your daemon will be able to handle yourselves for at least a while.” She frowned. “Where is Niffty anyways?”

As if in answer, the little stirring in Charlotte’s heart turned into a tiny flare. In the next second, Charlotte’s shadow slowly began changing shape, morphing and twisting until it rose up and formed the image of a small girl with fiery red hair cut into a bob and swathed in a rather pretty dress with a flared skirt. A single large eye sat on her head. When she stepped out of the princess’ shadow, she gave the two a wide smile, showing sharp yellow teeth.

“Present!” the daemon trilled cheerfully, giving Rosie a wave with a tiny hand. “I was hoping to catch some more sleep, but oh well!” She giggled. “Who’s the boy we’re meeting today?”

Rosie’s dark eyes glanced down at the notebook in front of her. “Seviathan von Eldritch of the Innsmouth Kingdom.” She hummed. “Quite the strategic pick. They’re quite well-known for their armada and their strong fishing and commercial trade industries. If a match happens, we’d gain quite a few trading routes and access to even more of the oceans.”

“Ugh, you sound like Alastor,” Niffty said. She hopped on a nearby chair and placed her face in her hands. “Give us the good stuff! We wanna know how he walks and talks and breathes!” She waggled her eyebrow. “Plus if he likes it kinky or not.”

Charlotte spat her tea at that. She coughed, beating her chest with one fist. Rosie frowned and picked up a napkin, handing it to the princess. Niffty almost immediately grabbed napkins and attacked the droplets of tea that had spilled from the cup and the princess’ mouth. Within seconds, the stains were rendered non-existent. It was as though Charlotte had never coughed on herself at all.

“Now, now, if I give you any spoilers about his personality, it’s just gonna color your view of him when you finally meet,” Rosie said. She reached into the notebook and pulled out a small photo. “A picture’s all you’re gonna get from me, sweetie!”

Charlotte took the photo from her governess and examined it closely. Seviathan von Eldritch looked… okay enough. He was grinning in the photo, thick eyebrows low over dull red eyes. He wore a dark green uniform of some sort in this photo, which served well to complement his bluish gray skin and dark green hair. Overall, not a terrible thing to look at, though the mutated fish hat was definitely a choice that had been made. From the way Niffty was nearly salivating over his image, Charlotte could tell that at the very least, he wasn’t the worst looking suitor she’s ever had.

“So… just the usual then?” Charlotte asked. “Make myself look pretty, go in, play nice, and hope he isn’t a giant douche?”

Rosie clicked her tongue. “You’ll want to try extra hard for this one. His family magic is probably the closest you’ll get to true Morningstar bloodline magic. Of course, it’s all about destruction and chaos with them, but they do say opposites attract. Maybe that’ll apply to magic too.”

“Does he have a twin?” Niffty asked. She pressed closer to the photo, so close she was practically sniffing it. Charlotte laughed and handed the photo to her daemon before turning back to her croissant. “Or a daemon? I’d love to have more friends to play with.”

“Daemons continue to remain a Morningstar bloodline only thing, I’m afraid,” Rosie said cheerfully. Then, she sliced up some cheese and handed it over to Charlotte along with a small bowl of fruit. “But no matter. I hate to rush you, but we need to finish up with breakfast soon. I’m told that the von Eldritches hold punctuality in high regard… that and your father almost gave himself an aneurysm trying to rehearse his introductions to them. I haven’t seen Alastor look so murderous in years!”

Normally, Charlotte loved breakfasts with her governess. They were almost always filled with gossip about the happenings of the kingdom, and Rosie always made sure that they were a reprieve from duty. But even her governess couldn’t stop the passage of time, and from the moment the Princess of Faustus became of age, there had been an almost nonstop train of suitors coming to ask for her hand. King Lucifer Morningstar, ever protective of his daughter, had of course tried everything he could to not overwhelm her with the visitors; but at the end of the day, even he couldn’t stop them completely. After all, to deny potential suitors the chance to meet and potentially win the hand of Princess Charlotte Morningstar would only invite trouble, at best some icy relations and at worst an outright declaration of war.

She finished her breakfast as best as she could, the pastries, cheese, and fruit like ashes in her mouth. She washed them down with a heavy amount of darjeeling, though her stomach curdled at the mere thought of having to sit through yet another horribly awkward courting ceremony while her father did his best to lighten things up with even more horribly awkward jokes and the like. God, was this really all that was expected of her as the Crown Princess? To be paraded around like a doll until she could be married off to strengthen the kingdom or something like that? The very thought made her sick.

But… it was her duty. Or at least, it was her duty to her people. Regardless of how she felt about marriage, there was no denying that a good, strategic partnership would strengthen Faustus and help her people overall. New trade routes and access to the oceans would create jobs, attract riches, and strengthen relationships between the two kingdoms. People would be able to travel without any worry for their safety and have money to spend to improve their lives. Plus, who could deny that the magic of the von Eldritches was extremely powerful? Certainly not her, at least from what Rosie was saying. And who knows? Maybe Seviathan von Eldritch would turn out to be her one true love. The very thought made her heart flutter. Yes… this had to be it. She would marry for both duty and love!

“I think I’m ready,” Charlotte said quietly, cutting across the silence that had fallen on the table. Niffty had by now sandwiched the photo between two slices of croissant and cheese and was munching on it cheerfully. Rosie put down her teacup. “Gotta do my best, right? For the kingdom.”

Her governess gave her a small, sad smile. “You sound like your father. Always the kingdom first.” She reached out and gently placed her hand on top of Charlotte’s. “Don’t forget about yourself too!”

Charlotte grinned. “I’m sure we’ll find some way to connect! He seems like he might like music! Or maybe he’ll like coming with me to visit the orphanage. O-Or maybe he’ll be a super strong knight who’ll win flowers for me at every tournament!” She giggled. “Can you imagine that? I’ll have like a million flower garlands just from him!”

“And maybe when he marries into the family, he’ll summon a handsome daemon so we can have a double wedding!” Niffty trilled. She shoved the rest of her Seviathan photo sandwich into her mouth. “I’ll make a custom roach crown just for him!”

Rosie laughed. “You two are ridiculous! But hold on to those thoughts.” She stood. “Your bath’s already drawn, Charlotte dear. I put in a rush order on a dress that will look absolutely gorgeous on you. Just call me back when you’re ready for makeup and hair, okay?”

Charlotte waited until Rosie left before drawing Niffty back into her, smiling when she felt the tiny shadow skitter like a little bug around her heart. She then ran over to the bathroom, where there was indeed an apple-scented bubble bath already drawn up for her. She took off her clothes with a snap of her fingers then hopped in, sighing as the warm water surrounded her. Looking over at the pink bubbly expanse in front of her, she frowned as her red and gold eyes scanned back and forth. There was something missing. Something very important. She frowned as she squinted, only for the thought to almost immediately come to her. Of course!

She exhaled as she allowed the magic to unfurl from her core, fingertips buzzing as celestial power flared to life. Slowly, golden tendrils trickled out of her fingers and she concentrated, willing them to coalesce in her hands. A small ball of shimmering power appeared in her palms, molding itself into a shape of her choosing. Once she was satisfied with its form, she blew on the magic and whispered a Word. A yellow rubber duck with a tiny princess crown appeared in her hands, the princess grinning as she placed it in the water and watched it gently float around the tub.

Manifestation was a magic unique to the Morningstar bloodline beyond their ability to make contracts with daemons. It allowed them to shape things into existence using the powerful celestial magic at their core, molding it to their wishes. Charlotte herself could only really Manifest small things, but she had always been told that with training and time, she would eventually be able to Manifest larger and more complex things like weapons and clothes. Her father, Lucifer, was able to Manifest wings; that was what helped him quell the Faustus Civil War early on in his reign, earning the respect and fear of nobility and ruling families as far as the Heavenly Mountains.

Maybe she could Manifest something for Seviathan as a gift in honor of his visit? Something that would eventually come to symbolize the love they held for one another? The promise of working towards a good future for their people? That sounded like a great idea. Charlotte’s mind raced with all sorts of different possibilities as she washed her hair and body. She even paid extra attention to her armpits this time. Can’t go meet your one true love while smelling bad, after all! The bubbles were nearly gone by the time she finally stepped out of the tub and dried herself with a snap of her fingers. For a brief moment, she attempted to Manifest some clothes, but all she managed was a vaguely potato sack-looking thing that looked like someone had tried to dye it green but somehow put too much blue dye in it. Oh well - she doubted her future husband would want clothes as a first gift anyways.

She put on a dressing gown as soon as she stepped out and called Rosie back in. Niffty emerged again as well. They armed themselves with brushes, combs, and God knows what else before all but attacking her golden tresses, pulling and tugging and pushing and clipping until Charlie didn’t know where her hair ended and her scalp began. Oh, did she mention that it hurt? A ton? She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to have a scalp by the end of the day.

Her gown came next. Or more accurately, its corset. Charlotte cringed as soon as she saw it, knowing what was going to happen next. She nearly cried out as Rosie put it on her and Niffty tightened it, so tight that she almost felt her guts spilling out of her. What was it that Alastor would say sometimes? Oh right - her waist was so tiny now Niffty could practically grab it in one hand. Her stomach was so squished that she might as well just gulp air to eat. Her lungs were so empty if he threw her into the garden pool now, she probably wouldn’t even drown!

By the time Rosie and Niffty were done nipping, tucking, twisting, turning, stuffing, and painting her into the ceremonial outfit, it was noon and Charlotte was nearly late for the actual ceremony. She all but flew down the stairs, midnight blue gown billowing around her. She had stuffed an apple in her mouth and her crown was a bit lopsided on her head, but at least she was on time, right? And surely her future husband would forgive her appearance since he was no doubt a good man who would care more about the future kingdom they would lead! 

“Dad!” she shouted as she approached the figure clad in white waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. “Dad, I’m ready!”

King Lucifer Morningstar looked up from where he was staring down at his apple-topped staff and grinned. When she reached him, he picked her up by the waist and spun her around, Charlotte doing everything she could to ignore the sharp pang of pain that went through her as her dad’s touch caused the whale bones to dig into her even more. He took a step back as soon as he put her down, letting out a low whistle.

“Who is this pretty lady and what did she do with my mud pie flinging, bug-collecting princess?” he asked playfully. A somber looked passed briefly over his face as he gave her a once-over. “You look great, Char.”

She giggled and bent into a low curtsy. “You think so? I hope Sev does too!”

He raised an eyebrow. “On nickname basis already? You haven’t even met the guy.”

“I don’t have to meet him to know that he’ll be The One! I mean, have you seen his heritage? The things he can bring to the marriage? We’ll have so many new trade routes and ports. It’ll give our people the absolute best shot to improve their lives! Oh Dad, I just can’t wait to start planning for the future!”

A pause. A furrow of a brow. A small sigh. “Well… I’m glad you’re so eager to meet him. Hopefully that’s a good sign.” He shot her a tiny half-smile. “God, I wish your mom could see you now…” Then, he reached up and readjusted the crown on her head. “You’re definitely ready. But… I think something’s missing.”

“Of course something’s missing!” The tiny shadow skittering across Charlotte’s heart leaped out now, manifesting not as her familiar daemon form but the form of a beautiful crimson jewel beetle. Charlotte grinned even wider as she flew up to the ribbon winding through the elegant bun atop her head and settled there, like a decorative brooch. “You forgot your lucky roach!”

“I could never forget you, Niffty," Charlotte said. Then, she turned to her father. “Okay, now I think I’m ready.”

The half-smile grew just a little bit wry. “As you’ll ever be.” Then, he turned to face the double doors before them. For a few moments, the two of them stood in silence, red eyes fixed on the ornate doors. Suddenly, a triumphant fanfare echoed through the halls, each note reverberating off the marbled walls of Castle Morningstar. Each majestic blast built to a crescendo, the air humming with anticipation as each commanding note signaled their imminent arrival. As the final trumpet blare faded into silence, the heavy doors swung open, revealing the numerous ornately dressed courtiers gathered inside.

“Announcing the arrival of His Majesty, Lucifer, First of His Name, King of Faustus, Protector of the Alighieri Pass, Scion of House Morningstar, Keeper of the Flame, and Sovereign of Daemons.”

“I swear to God, that list gets longer and longer every time I have to walk in there,” Dad muttered before straightening his back and walking in. Charlotte watched him go, staring intently at the way the bright afternoon light glinted off his crown, at how his every step was carefully practiced. He had more than once actually tripped on his way to the dais, leading his daemon to manifest to either catch him or stand there laughing, depending on his mood. The fact that it looked like Dad had actually practiced his throne room walk for this one definitely meant that Sev had to be the one. After all, why else would her father do this if not to strengthen relations with an especially powerful kingdom?

As Charlotte waited for the announcement of her own entrance, she couldn’t help but quake in anticipation. This was it. This was the day where she would finally begin planning the future of the kingdom on her own terms. She would unite duty and love for her people and use them as tools alongside her beloved husband to bring Faustus to even greater glory. Her pulse quickened as the herald opened his mouth, fingertips tingling and sparking as she lifted her skirts and prepared to walk out.

“Announcing the arrival of Her Highness, Charlotte, First of Her Name, Heir to the Throne, and Princess of Faustus!”

Well, at least her list of titles wasn’t as ridiculously long as her dad’s for the moment. Oh, but think of the possibilities! Protector of Hellish Pass? How about Protector of the Trade Routes? Keeper of the Peace? Sovereign of Love and Happiness?

She made a mental note to work with Sev on their actual future titles later.

Heeled footsteps echoed on the marvel as she crossed the threshold, red eyes quickly scanning over the gathered figures. Thankfully, Dad had decided to hold a private audience today. At the center of the room stood an ornately dressed couple with silver hair and flashing green eyes. And at their side?

The man from the photo. Crown Prince Seviathan. Sev. Charlotte’s heart hammered wildly as she gazed upon him. How did she ever think those lovely red eyes were dull? That his eyebrows were a bit too thick? That his fish hat was… okay, it was still a choice that had been made. But it was very him, right? And if there was one thing Charlotte absolutely loved, it was when people were most true to their inner self.

Charlotte stopped in front of the von Eldritches, dropping into a well-practiced curtsy. She looked up and met Sev’s eye, waiting for him to bow and kiss her hand or something like so many others had before. He simply looked down at her and gave her that sharp-toothed smile from the photo. Oh… well okay then. Maybe the Innsmouth Kingdom didn’t practice things like that. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you all,” Charlotte said as she straightened. “I’m the Crown Princess, Ch-”

“Too skinny,” the beautifully dressed woman - who Charlotte could quite easily assume was Queen Bethesda von Eldritch - said, fixing Charlotte with a critical eye. “Not good for bearing sons.”

Charlotte blinked owlishly and glanced at her father from the corner of her eye, who stiffened immediately at her words. “I-I’m sorry?”

“And she speaks without permission,” the Queen of Innsmouth said. She looked at Lucifer now, one corner of her lip lifting into a sneer. “I take it that the dear King of Faustus hasn’t taught her any of our traditional manners.”

If looks could kill, Lucifer would’ve murdered her ten times over by now. His face remained calm, but there was a clear twitch in his eye, a fury in his stare. “I thought it was best to welcome your… party with a traditional Faustian welcome. Manners included.”

“I would hardly call this polite in our culture,” King Frederick was speaking now, voice high and sugary like a spider’s. It sent an involuntary shiver down Charlotte’s spine. “We expect our women to be quiet. Composed. Graceful. Elegant. Poised. Polite.” With each word, his sneer grew, as though punctuating her every flaw. “Those are the qualities we see in a good von Eldritch wife.”

“Father, enough,” Sev said, speaking for the first time. His voice was molten copper, smooth like honey and undulating gently with every word. “Those are the qualities I can see in Princess Charlotte here.” He walked towards her, grin growing. Charlotte smiled up at him, her face growing warm as he walked in a circle around her, red eyes hungrily drinking up her frame. “She would make a fine queen, I’m sure.”

Oh! Her gift! Charlotte tipped her head as she brought her hands up and clapped them together. Already, the gentle sparks of Manifestation were dancing at her fingertips. She knew the perfect thing to give him to symbolize the first step towards everlasting love. “Thank you, Prince Seviathan.” She opened her hands now, a silk handkerchief with a beautifully embroidered M appearing before them. “I pray that you take this favor as a token of our first meeting!”

Sev blinked at the handkerchief. Then, he grinned even wider. “Oh thanks! I needed one of these!” Without missing a beat, he grabbed the gift and blew his nose into it before setting it on fire with a snap of his fingers. Charlotte watched, chest tightening as her Manifestation burned, as the edges of the silk curled up and disappeared into ashes. Devastation flooded through her as her red eyes quickly darted between the still smiling Crown Prince and the ashes of her Manifestation that now littered the clean white and gold marble floor. Did she make a mistake? Should she have given a better, more elaborate gift?

“So anyways, I like her,” Sev said, now turning to her dad. The fury behind Lucifer’s gaze was absolutely burning now, his jaw clenching as he stared up at the taller Crown Prince. “We gotta talk bride price now, right? I think Dad and I agree that it’s only appropriate we negotiate a bit more. See, the Velvet Road is a bit much for her, don’t you think? Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice to look at but could use some-”

Charlotte felt the buzz deep in her soul, a howling wind that quickly evolved into a furious storm. The little jewel beetle sitting on her bun spread its wings, buzzing fiercely as she flew directly at Crown Prince’s face. Seviathan turned just in time to see the crimson jewel beetle darting towards him, opening his mouth and letting out a loud shriek.

“BUG!”

All at once, the room descended into chaos. Niffty charged directly into his open mouth, cutting off his scream immediately. When Queen Bethesda saw what had happened, she let out a shriek of her own and ran to her son, screaming about her baby boy. She even tried to shove a hand down his throat to fish the daemon out. King Frederick started pounding him on the back, shouting about the Morningstars and their cursed daemon contracts. Eventually, Prince Seviathan spat out the little red jewel beetle, who attempted to dive in again. At this point, Charlotte kicked off her heels and ran forward, Manifesting a small golden cage. 

“Niffty, no!”

Her hands flew in front of Prince Seviathan’s face, catching the red jewel beetle right as she attempted to dive into his airway once again. Charlotte closed the cage with a snap, only to catch part of Seviathan’s nose in the door. The scream he let out was extremely high-pitched and he yanked his face away, silver tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched at his now-bruised nose. The cage in Charlotte’s hands was vibrating and twitching, the little daemon inside smashing her jewel beetle body against the glass trying to get out. Charlotte took a few steps back, bile rising in her throat as Queen Besthesda whirled to train her green-eyed gaze on the Princess of Faustus.

“You dare touch my son with your dirty little daemon hands!?”

A strange black vortex burst from her chest, wind rushing around them as blade-like tendrils burst from the queen’s back, gleaming silver in the light of the throne room. Charlotte shrieked as she felt her feet lift off the ground, the vortex seeming to suck her in as though she were caught in a black hole. She turned her head and watched as Lucifer crouched low, Manifesting his wings and spreading them wide to slow his own involuntary approach. The Queen of Innsmouth’s teeth were absolutely enormous now, bright green drool dripping from her lips as she raised the blade-like tendrils and aimed at- 

“Alastor!”

First, there was the fizzle and pop of static. Then, the low whine of a searching frequency. The silver tendrils froze, the black vortex curdling on itself and disappearing with a loud scream. Actually, everything froze - the Innsmouth Royal Family suddenly found themselves held aloft by powerful black tendrils bursting from the ground beneath them. Before anyone could react, these shadowed tendrils turned them all upside down, pinning their arms to their side. The weird fish hat and two crowns joined the ashes of Charlotte’s manifestation as she dropped to her knees, still trembling as she looked up and met fiery red eyes.

The daemon stood before her father, clad and crowned in bright red. The deer ears sitting atop his head twitched wildly as his gaze bored through the foreign royal family. Sharp yellow teeth pulled back into a horribly twisted and sadistic grin as he raised a red claw-tipped hand, the black tendrils copying his motion and rising even higher. His eyes - normally red in color - were black at the moment with red radio dials lighting up his features. Overall, this was the picture of a truly terrifying, powerful daemon, one who could rip even the strongest of sorcerers to shreds as easily as he could eat a meal.

Charlotte was so happy to see him.

“Another failed matchmaking session, my lord?” Alastor asked as he dragged his hand closer to his face, the tendrils copying the motion. “Oh dear, what does that make this? Number six this month? Seven?” Static buzzed around him as a cello played a low, dangerous note. “I do recall us agreeing that if I had to go on cleanup duty one more time this month, I would get to eat whoever it was!”

Lucifer shot him a sardonic grin. “Sorry, can’t let you do that, Al.” His wings disappeared as he narrowed his eyes at the von Eldritches, who were quickly turning… more blue than before. “As funny as that’d be, we’d get hell if they took away our access to their trade routes and stuff.”

“Do you intend to starve me, sire?” Alastor asked. “After all the work Rosie and I put into designing young Charlotte’s lovely gown only to have it ignored by these silly little squids?” He wiggled them for emphasis, knocking the royal family’s heads together. 

The King of Faustus let out a small laugh. “Trust me, I’d love to treat you to dinner with these chumps. But if I let you kill every stupid royal, courtier, or servant that looks at my daughter wrong, then I’ll have even more trouble hiring staff!” He waved a hand. “Just do that freaky shit you do with your tentacles and we’ll go grab some po’boys or something at the stand down on Main. My treat.”

Alastor’s grin grew so wide it threatened to split in two. For a brief moment, it genuinely seemed as though he was just going to release the von Eldritches and send them running back to their kingdom - but Charlotte knew better. Everyone in that room knew better. Charlotte watched in morbid fascination as tiny black tendrils branched out from the larger ones holding the von Eldritches aloft. They snaked their way up the royals’ necks, tracing a black trail towards their ears. Three sets of eyes widened as they stared at these tendrils, three clamped mouths letting out muffled screams as the tendrils plunged into their ears. 

Almost immediately, they began convulsing, writhing and twitching against their bonds as Alastor’s tendrils ripped, tore, and rearranged portions of their mind. Once coherent and mostly composed individuals began to unravel, consumed by the chaos now echoing through their consciousness. At first, confusion flickered across their faces, then disorientation, then terror as their grip on reality slipped away like sand through a sieve. 

Alastor threw back his head and laughed as chunks of some strange, otherworldly light crawled up his tendrils, reaching out with clawed hands to pluck the pieces of light in his mouth. He was absolutely salivating now, those sharp yellow teeth elongating into fangs as he devoured the bits and pieces of Memory and Mind that he forcefully ripped out of them. Eventually, the tendrils exited their ears and the three drooling von Eldritches were - quite unceremoniously - thrown against the nearest wall, Alastor happily wiping his mouth on a red handkerchief. He turned to smile at Charlotte.

“So sorry you had to see that, Princess,” he said with not a single trace of apology in his voice. The red handkerchief burnt away with a quick snap of his fingers, its ashes intermingling with the crowns, hat, and other ashes on the floor. “Rest assured, they’ll wake up again with no memory of what happened in this throne room and just as they were before! Well, actually, maybe with a tad more nonsensical rambling about horrors beyond their comprehension, but I’m sure that such things are just a normal Tuesday over in Innsmouth.”

Lucifer, face paler than before and looking quite ill now, swept past Alastor as he walked over and helped Charlotte to her feet. “God, why did I watch that? I fucking hate it when you do that and I still watched.” He shook his head, then frowned up at his daughter. “Let’s head to the garden. Alastor, clean up your mess and stick them back in the carriage. Have the servants ride it out to… oh, I don’t know, Dante’s Valley or something like that and leave them there. Hopefully you didn’t eat their sense of direction.”

Alastor smirked and tilted his head; he never bowed either. Maybe it was something he had picked up in Innsmouth before being banished to the Daemon’s Realm? “By your command, sire. I expect two po’boys for dinner tonight.”

Her father rolled his eyes before gently placing his hand on his daughter’s back and guiding her out of the throne room. As they passed the von Eldritches, Charlotte felt a heavy lead land in her stomach, her insides curdling around it. What was supposed to be a joyous moment had turned into a nightmare of utter humiliation, of suffocating failure. She had brought her hopes up so high, told herself that this was meant to happen, prepared herself to meet her future, all for what? For her dreams and hopes to secure a good match for herself and the kingdom to crumble like a house of cards. Her father was sweet and understanding, but no doubt disappointed. No matter Seviathan’s attitude, he would have been an excellent match to strengthen her kingdom and people. But now? Now all she had to tango with was her own insecurities, her own failings. 

They passed by a hall of mirrors on their way out of the castle, giving her a chance to glance up at her reflection. She looked like a mess: barefoot, hair falling wildly out of her bun, makeup smudged, and eyes already starting to turn red from unshed tears. Her but so very not. Princess Charlotte but not Charlotte. 

The golden cage clutched in her hands was no longer trembling, but the jewel beetle inside seemed to be exhausted. Niffty had gone quiet, wings fluttering uncertainly as she seemed to look up at the princess from her position in the cage. Charlotte gave her a tiny, reluctant smile as she opened it and let out a tiny exhale, the jeweled beetle disappearing as she once again felt the shadow in her heart. It curled around her like a hug, gently pulsing an apology that she would of course always accept from her dear little daemon.

Tears were stinging her eyes now. She reached up and used one sleeve to wipe them away, taking makeup with it. Her father Manifested a handkerchief and she blew her nose into it before transporting it to where she hoped was the palace laundry pile. She hadn’t yet mastered too much distance transportation yet. 

Charlotte stayed silent during their walk. What could she say? Sorry she had utterly failed to secure a good alliance? Sorry that she didn’t stop Niffty before everything happened? Sorry that she was too skinny or too loud or too clumsy or too all the things Queen Bethesda had said to her? Her bottom lip trembled as she remembered those words, as the image of the gift she had Manifested just for Prince Seviathan vanished in a puff of smoke and ash. Pressure built up behind her eyes. God, why couldn’t she just do her damned duty?

“Hey…”

She looked up at her father with tears in her eyes. His golden gaze widened just a bit before settling down again, a worried furrow creasing his brow. He was wearing this look a lot lately - moreso now that she was starting to reach marriageable age. With a small sigh, he led her over towards a blooming magnolia tree- wait. When did they reach the imperial gardens?

It was a beautiful place, nestled within the walls of their magnificent castle and home to a spectacle of vibrant colors and intoxicating senses. Winding pathways paved with smooth stones meandered through lush greenery, bordered by carefully manicured hedges and fragrant blooms in every color imaginable. Cherry blossom and magnolia trees swayed gracefully, their delicate petals dancing in the gentle breeze. A river flowed through it, featuring graceful stone bridges and colorful koi fish darting underneath its shimmering surface. At the very back was a huge bamboo forest - a maze that her father had planted himself long ago where the two of them used to play hide and seek.

Lucifer brought her to a stone bench just underneath one of these blooming magnolias, shooting her a tiny smile. She sat down but did not smile back. He tilted his head. “So… today was a complete and total disaster... But I’d say a blessing in disguise, kiddo. I mean, did you hear that guy? Complete and utter douche. I can’t believe I let him within ten feet of my little girl.”

He let out a low laugh, anxiety lacing through every note of his voice. She looked at him silently as tears continued to fall, using one sleeve to wipe them up. When he realized that she wasn’t laughing with him, his shoulders slumped. Then, he looked around and smiled again.

“Got some nice blooming flowers this year. I think Al really outdid himself,” he said. “Guy keeps saying stuff like how gardening isn’t part of our contract, but he definitely is a softie when it comes to stuff like this, especially if I ask him hard enough. Oh! But look-” he pointed just over her shoulder. When she turned her head, she saw a tiny pink bud nestled among the blooming flowers, a tiny spot of brightness amongst the pastel. “That one’s late. It’s probably just busy preparing to bloom. I’ll bet that once it does, it’ll be the most beautiful one of all.” He winked. “Which means it should probably use protection ‘cuz all the flowers around it would’ve fertilized each other already.”

What in the world was her dad talking about? Charlie let out a snort, unable to help the smile gracing her features. As soon as he saw it, her dad leaned in and pinched her cheeks, just like he did when she was younger.

“There’s that smile. I missed it. C’mon, kiddo, let’s cheer up! No man is worth a princess’ tears,” he brushed her golden locks aside, fixing a magnolia flower behind her ear. “Especially not that fuck sandwich.”

Another very un-princessy snort. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you trying to be hip? Because it’s not working and you just sound like a-”

“Pardon the interruption,” the buzz of static was their only warning before Alastor rather elegantly stepped out of the shadow of the magnolia tree, ears flattened against his head. His smile was pulled very tightly against his face. “But I’m afraid I must borrow His Majesty for a bit. I’ve picked up an interesting message from the sentries stationed at Judas’ Canyon.”

Lucifer frowned. He turned to face his daemon, hands folded in his lap. “Let’s hear it, then.”

A whine of frequency. A series of static-filled pops and hisses. Then, Alastor’s eyes turned into radio dials as his smile froze in place. With every word that was spoken next, his teeth seemed to flash an even more brilliant yellow.

“Exorcists! Exorcists are here! Please, we need to warn the king! We don’t have enough people here to turn them back. They’re bringing an entire army across the pass. We’re being invaded! They’re being led by-”

A violent scream tore from the throat of whoever was speaking before the feed went silent, save for the quiet white noise of static. Alastor’s face returned to normal as he looked over at the two of them, both hands resting atop his microphone staff. Charlotte bit her bottom lip as her red eyes darted between the foreboding shadow on Alastor’s face and the gaunt, ashen gray tone of her father’s face. She watched with tense apprehension as Lucifer brought both hands up to his temples, long claws tangling in his golden hair.

“A-Angels?” he whispered. He looked up at Alastor with wide golden eyes. “They’re… They’re invading us? After all this time? Why…?”

Alastor hummed and tapped the top of his cane. “Who’s to say? Perhaps they want more land. Or perhaps they want to bully you into surrendering your throne.”

“Cut the shit, Al. I know you’ve heard something.”

The ever-present smile simply widened even more. “I’m afraid not, sire. The only thing I can tell you is that many of those Angels have slowly turned off any and all radios in Celestial City over the last few years.” He shrugged. “I had assumed it was simply Angels having terrible taste in entertainment. I see now that it was quite the mistake to not inform you.”

“You think?” Lucifer asked irritably. Then, he sighed, schooling his features. Charlotte could practically feel an invisible hand sliding on the mask of a king over his face. “Okay… send a message out to Carmilla and Zestiel. Tell them we need to prepare for war. Then, send out a call for volunteers. Run down the list of conscriptions if you have to. After that-” he hesitated. “I’ll break the Seal of Distance so you can put on your armor and head to the front lines.”

No.

The words dropped like a lead in Charlotte's stomach. Alastor? Going straight to the front lines to fight the Exorcists? There was absolutely no way he would come back alive, let alone whole. He had already fought Angels decades ago, back when he had first made the Daemon’s Pact with Lucifer. During that war, he had sustained a wound so severe that its scars still haunted him to this day. On rainy days especially, Charlotte would watch him wince and grimace, his ears flattening as he clutched his side. It was only through her father’s power that he had even been able to heal this much.

“Don’t!” Charlotte said suddenly, causing both men to look at her. Confusion flitted across her father’s face. Something wild and a little bit furious flashed behind Alastor’s red eyes. 

“Charlotte, what-”

“You can’t send him, Dad!” she said desperately, twisting her hands in the fabric of her gown. “He… His wound-”

“I assure you, I am more than capable of handling myself,” Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “Besides, it is only proper that the Royal Family send someone to bolster the army.” He lifted one hand and looked at his claws, as though checking them for dirt. “It’ll boost morale or promote camaraderie or whatever frivolous little thing you want to make up in your pretty little head.”

“Then… Then send someone else!” the shadow around her heart hummed with apprehension. A warning. She was stepping into territory filled with landmines. “O-One of the servants o-or one of the knights, or-”

“I need to win the war, Apple Seed,” her father said. Now there was definitely irritation crossing his pale features. “And unfortunately, that usually means we gotta send our best to the front lines.” He sneered. “Not that Al’s our best. He just happens to be the most sadistic and rotten bastard in the palace.”

The Radio Daemon lifted one hand and placed it over his heart. “You wound me, sire. I strive to be the most sadistic and rotten bastard in the universe.”

Their words did nothing to quell the race of her pulse, the raging storm of fear in her stomach. “But… Dad, if he dies then you’ll-”

“That’s enough, Charlotte,” her father said. He turned on his heel and walked back towards the palace with an air of complete finality. “Alastor and I know our places. It’s time that you learn yours.”

It took about two weeks to send the call to arms and gather up volunteers. Two weeks of stiff conversation at the dinner table, of disappointed gazes and whispers in the dark. She knew the day Alastor would set off was coming. She knew that on that day, her father would break the Seal of Distance then send his daemon off to die. If Alastor died, then her father would be greatly, greatly weakened - so weak that there was a good chance he might die too.

That night, Charlotte had changed out of her gown into a much more comfortable dress, the bodice thankfully no longer stealing her breath away. As she padded down the corridor to her room, she couldn’t help but notice the dim glow of a red lantern lighting up the room just across from her father’s bedroom. She hesitated for a brief moment, then tiptoed closer, peering through the cracked open door.

Alastor and Lucifer stood before an open cabinet, the one that Charlotte had seen so many times before as a child. Inside was armor crafted from finest steel, forged in the hottest fire in Faustus and shaped by masterful hands. It was crimson in color and reinforced with Lucifer’s own magic, which glowed gold across its cuirass, pauldrons, and vambraces. It was said that only the most powerful of weapons could pierce this armor directly and its helm - a grinning demonic skull with large curled horns - was said to be able to literally freeze enemies in fear. As a symbol of their Pact, Lucifer had also Manifested a sword for his daemon, the silver blade having tasted so much blood in the past that it was said to now be imbued with a powerful cursed magic of its own.

Alastor was unsheathing that sword now, admiring the way it glinted in the flickering light of the lantern. Her father walked across the room, then turned around and Manifested his own sword. Charlotte watched all of this, her trembling hands balling into her skirt. She had never seen Alastor fight up close and personal before; according to Rosie, he used to do a lot more of that before sustaining his wound. After? He preferred to keep things at a distance so as to not aggravate things. Of course, with the shadow of war descending upon them, it was only natural that the Radio Demon practice up-close combat once again, in case a stray Angel made it through his nearly impenetrable magical defenses.

Lucifer charged first, jumping off his back foot and swinging his sword, the blade thrumming a deadly song as he aimed for an overhead blow. Alastor easily parried it before flicking his wrist, sending the sword down. He then followed up with a series of lightning quick attacks, forcing her father onto the defense. With a wild sneer on his face, the Radio Demon lifted his sword and went for a quick side-swipe, only for Lucifer to smirk and counter that as well before bringing up his elbow and slamming it directly into Alastor’s side.

For a moment, time froze. Charlotte watched in horror as Alastor’s red eyes widened, as he let out a strangled noise. He staggered back and dropped to his knees, sword clattering to the floor. Red claws came up to clutch at the spot where his wound was, the exact spot where Lucifer’s elbow had struck him. In a flurry of feathers and panic, Lucifer was at his side in a second, golden energy dancing at his hands, the King of Faustus babbling desperate apologies. The Radio Demon lifted one claw and placed it atop Lucifer’s hands, groaning as he pulled the healing energy closer to him. His face was absolutely contorted in excruciating pain. Tiny slivers of silver pooled at the corners of his closed eyes.

In an instant, she understood: when Alastor was sent out there, when an Angel got through his defenses, he was done for. That old wound was simply too great. He was going to fight, and then he was going to die. For what? Honor? Pride? The Morningstars?

Bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t stand to see any more of this. She was going to be sick. She was going to throw up. She was going to-

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the palace grounds. She fled from the opulent confines of her family home in tears, her heart heavy with sorrow. With each step, flashes of Alastor’s injury, of her father’s fury, of her people’s suffering flooded her mind, threatening to consume her entirely. She could already hear the clash of blades, the splash of blood, and the unending screams of Faustian citizens as war came to their doorstep. 

Why should she stay locked up in her gilded cage when so many would suffer and die in her stead?

With trembling steps, she happened upon the tiny fountain off to the side of one of the city streets. Her father used to tell her about how when she was little, she and Niffty would play in the fountain together, splashing each other until either Rosie or Alastor would come get them and drag them back to the palace. Apparently, she had once gone as far as dunking Alastor’s head directly into the fountain - the daemon’s antlers ending up stuck in there for about half a day. Her father had to finish up his numerous meetings before coming to rescue his daemon. Since that time, Alastor preferred to keep his antlers small and hidden under his shock of red hair - but that didn’t stop Charlotte from trying to catch a glimpse of them every now and then.

There was a group of children playing nearby, their laughter ringing out like music in the crisp evening chill. Red eyes lit up as she watched them, her gaze falling upon a little girl no older than five or six. She sat apart from the others, cradling a worn-out little doll. Charlotte watched as the girl rocked it and sang it a lullaby. It was… a lovely moment. A tiny patch of innocence in the midst of the oncoming fog of war.

She… had to do something to protect this. This was likely the stupidest thing she would ever do. But she had to do it. For Alastor. For her dad. 

For her people.

Under the cloak of darkness, the world seemed to hold its breath as Crown Princess Charlotte crept towards her father’s study, heart heavy with determination. The moon cast a silvery glow upon the numerous papers and rubber ducks that littered the place, illuminating them with a gentle yet ethereal light. With every cautious step inside, the weight of her decision pressed on her shoulders, the shadow in her heart fluttered with fear, anxiety, and anticipation. 

As she reached out and opened the cabinet doors, Niffty manifested beside her. For a brief moment, she looked down, indecision weighing within her as she considered either sealing Niffty away or breaking their Daemon’s Pact to earn the little jewel beetle’s silence. Then, Niffty smiled up at her and reached for the sword, bowing low and offering it to her with two hands.

First, she took off her black crown and placed it atop her father’s desk. Then, she knelt down in the light of the glowing moon. She bowed her head low and offered a prayer - to God, to Odin, to Zeus, to some other being… she honestly had no idea. She just knew that she would need every Blessing, every inch of Faith and Grace she could get. Then, she unsheathed the sword, allowing her hair to fall out of its loose bun. In one fluid motion, she struck, slicing the delicate golden strands off and letting them fall to the floor. Niffty shot forward in that moment and collected them, giggling as she tucked them away in various pockets of her apron.

Now with much, much shorter hair, she stood again and turned to face Alastor’s armor. It stood sentinel in the dim light, a silent testament to the blood its wielder had shed upon it so many decades before. With trembling hands, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the cool metal as she hesitated for a moment, her resolve wavering.

(He staggered back and dropped to his knees, sword clattering to the floor. Red claws came up to clutch at the spot where his wound was, the exact spot where Lucifer’s elbow had struck him…)

She shook off her doubts and steeled herself for what lay ahead. With swift, nearly imperceptible movements, she donned the armor, each piece fitting snugly against her skin as if it had been forged for her and her alone. Niffty assisted as well, fastening every buckle, helping her don the vambraces and gauntlets. As she fastened the final buckle, she felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins, a sense of purpose and resolve washing over her like a tidal wave.

With Alastor’s sword strapped to her side and his helmet perched atop her head, Charlotte emerged from the palace, a warrior reborn in the moonlight. Niffty disappeared for a brief moment, then reappeared leading one of her dear dragons, Dazzle, from the stables. The creature bowed before her with a smile then grew, Charlotte’s golden magic surrounding him as he did so. Unlike previous times, he did not let out a roar upon completing the transformation, as if he knew that she wanted to leave under the cover of night. Grateful for this, she mounted him, Niffty landing on her hair in jewel beetle form. Then, with a single beat of his great wings, Dazzle lifted off and flew away with them, their silhouettes a silent shadow against the moonlit sky.

Chapter Text

He found himself alone.

Lucifer frowned as he turned to look at the desolate landscape, the empty plains seeming to stretch on endlessly. Swirling mist hung around him, obscuring his vision and sending shivers down his spine. His footsteps echoed across the barren earth, each footfall reverbrating with a hollow emptiness that chilled him to his very core. 

Where the actual fuck was he? Better question, where was Alastor? He frowned as he looked deep into his soul, searching for the Radio Daemon that liked to curl around his heart or seep himself into the pit that had once belonged to Lilith. But no matter where or how long he looked, he couldn’t find his daemon anywhere. 

He was well and truly alone.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows - a large, sinister silhouette cloaked in garish yellow and white. Yellow eyes atop a black horned mask gleamed down at him with pure malevolence, a huge malicious smile curving on the pitch black face. It was speaking to him in a voice that sounded like thunder, yet there were no intelligible words he could hear. All he could feel was a strange sense of danger and despair, loss and longing, a tapestry of fear weaving around him that ensnared his senses and threatened to consume him whole.

The figure ripped open its chest next, revealing something small and golden inside. Lucifer gasped, red eyes widening in horror as he recognized the figure of his daughter curled up inside the gaping pit. But… she looked different. Shorter hair. Covered in mud and blood. Trembling and quivering with fear all over her features. With a start, he ran towards her, hands reaching to pull her out, hug her, literally have her anywhere but there. But as soon as his hands touched her face, she collapsed completely, flesh rotting away as her bones crumbled to dust. Lucifer watched as her dust fell through his fingers like sand through a sieve and he opened his mouth to-

“NO!”

He awoke with a start, red eyes darting around his room. Sweat beaded upon his brow as his breath came in ragged gasps, the remnants of the haunting nightmare lingering in the recesses of his mind. He let out a small sigh, blinking away his sleep as his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the window. For a moment, he sat still, concentrating quietly as the shadow that lay sleeping clutching his lifeforce stirred awake, as the Radio Daemon pressed a question into the dark recesses of his mind.

“N-Nightmare,” he whispered, one hand over his chest. He inhaled quietly, then exhaled, willing his heart into a steady cadence. “I-I… God, that was fucked.”

The shadow hummed, popped, and buzzed before turning over again. A claw wrapped around his heart. A beat of silence. Then, Lucifer felt unease creep into his gut. Bile rose in his throat.

Something was wrong.

With trembling hands, Lucifer Manifested a small light, sending it upwards to settle around his head like a halo. He felt Alastor hiss slightly at that but ignored the slight thrash of the daemon against his soul. He was a big boy. He could deal with a little celestial magic to help light his way to his study.

The first thing he saw was Alastor’s armor. Or more like the lack of it. Lucifer stood there in the doorway, blue eyes wide with terror as realization slowly crept up on him. Then, he looked to the side, panic seizing him when he saw the object nestled amongst the rubber ducks that covered his desk. A deep, primal fear clawed at his chest as he scrambled over to it, picking up the freezing metal crown as cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

Charlotte’s crown.

“Charlotte!? Apple Seed!?” he asked, whirling around, heart pounding in his chest as he called out into the darkness. Desperation fueled his movements as he stumbled to the window, shoving it open. “Where’d you go, kiddo!?”

There was no answer, only the haunting silence of the night. Lucifer knelt and raised both hands to his hair, tugging and pulling as his mind raced with a thousand unanswered questions. Where had she gone? Why did she take Alastor’s armor? How could she leave in the dead of night, without so much as a word of explanation?

Alastor’s power squeezed upon his soul like a vice, causing Lucifer to gasp and clutch at his chest. He collapsed, the window frame splintering under a crushing grip as panic, desperation, and bile rose in his throat. The daemon manifested next to him, red eyes alight with a truly terrifying combination of fury and fear. His smile was gone. He was furious - Lucifer could feel that deep in his soul. One eye twitched. His claws dug so hard into his cane that the top threatened to shatter.

“We have to go after her,” Alastor said harshly, red eyes turning black. The static surrounding him was starting to crescendo. “She could be killed out there.”

“No,” Lucifer whispered. He gazed up at the Radio Daemon, unflinching as those black eyes turned into wildly swinging dials. He used the window sill to stand on shaking legs. “If she took Dazzle, by now she’s somewhere close to the main army encampment. If someone - anyone - knows that the Princess of Faustus is out there, she’ll be kidnapped and held for ransom or worse.”

Alastor’s static buzzed a low, dangerous note. The Radio Daemon turned to him, smile plastered, ears twitching. “And what do you propose we do instead, my little lord? While we’re standing here among the oh-so-terrifying Morningstar duck army, the Crown Princess is off playing soldier. She’ll be beheaded by the next Angel who spots her.”

Lucifer hesitated. What could he do? Having the King of Faustus order the return of a random soldier would be suspicious at best, even if he (she?) was clad in armor that belonged to the Radio Daemon. Not to mention, the extreme amount of political tainting it would do to Charlotte’s image if he did something like that. Maybe he could temporarily order that all troops return home to their families? But then that would set back their army preparations, and they were already behind on that. No, he needed to be subtle about this. He needed to find a way for Carmilla or Zestiel to send the random soldier home. He just… He just needed to make sure she couldn’t pass the army training, then have her escorted home so she made it back safely. Perfect!

He turned to face Alastor, who was still glaring at the world outside. When the Radio Daemon sensed his gaze, he turned his head with a somewhat sickening crack. Freaky asshole. Why did he always do stuff like that? He and Lucifer had been tied together long enough by now. Did he just want to get a rise out of the King of Faustus on purpose? Well, his smile did always turn strangely nice-looking when he was thoroughly entertained-

No. Focus, Lucifer. Focus.

“Alastor… go after her,” he said. “Sabotage her, assist her, do whatever… just make sure she makes it back home safe and that when she does, she never pulls shit like this again.”

The Radio Daemon tilted his head. Frequency whined around him uncertainly. “Are you quite sure that is wise, sire? My leaving will weaken both of us. The Daemon’s Realm will ensure that.”

Daemons were souls who had been cursed by some higher power to spend the rest of eternity wandering the Daemon’s Realm as punishment for some arbitrary crime in life. The rules were never really clear or consistent - there were souls like Alastor’s who were cold-blooded killers and cannibals back in their day, but there were also souls like Niffty who as far as Lucifer knew had only ever given bugs grisly little deaths. Either way, the only way they could leave the eternal soul-ripping punishment of the realm was to form a pact with someone of Morningstar blood. Once done, they could emerge as powerful beings that could lend their abilities to power up a Morningstar sorcerer and receive Morningstar power in turn.

There were limitations, of course. Every Daemon’s Pact came with a set of Seals that ensured that the daemon would not cause undue harm on the Morningstar it was tied to or their people. In effect, they ensured that the daemon remained a servant, not an equal. The only way to break these limitations was to break the Seals - and it would take a sorcerer of considerable power to do anything like that.

A sorcerer like Lucifer.

“Like I said before, I’ll break the Seal of Distance so you can be far away from me without both of us getting stupidly weak,” Lucifer said. He raised one hand and tapped Alastor’s heart, a five-point star within a circle lighting up on it. Six Seals floated in front of him. He pressed hard on one of them. It flashed slightly against his touch, swirling wildly as though resisting his spellwork. “When you go collect my daughter and bring her back to me… we’ll talk about breaking the rest.”

There, cards on the table. He knew the risks of unsealing his daemon, knew that this could very well spell the end of his kingdom. But at the same time… he would raze everything to have his daughter back safe and sound. Nothing else mattered to him.

Alastor’s expression was downright hungry now, red eyes flashing as he registered Lucifer’s words. “Breaking the rest, sire? Are you quite certain?” The corners of his mouth lifted up even more. “Why, who knew so much courage was hidden away in such a little body. No Morningstar has ever even considered breaking all six Seals before!”

Lucifer scowled. He did everything he could to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine, to quell his quivering heart. “Call it motivation. I’ve been with you long enough to know that if I don’t word shit exactly how I want it, you’ll just tug me through a bunch of loopholes. And since this is Charlotte we’re talking about, I’d rather just motivate you to do your job properly than have to think about whatever fucked up loophole you’re gonna exploit.”

Static buzzed and crackled cheerfully. “I would attempt to reason with you, but unchaining myself from you and these infernal Seals is just too delicious an offer.” The two men watched as the Distance Seal shattered under Lucifer’s golden magic, scattering the pieces around the room. “Rest assured, I will bring back your daughter alive and whole.”

“You better,” Lucifer said lightly before taking a step back. He shivered again and scowled. He felt so damn cold the moment he left the heat that naturally radiated off of Alastor’s form. God, he hated being cold. “I already lost Lilith to one war… I can’t lose her too.” He hesitated again, golden eyes trailing down from Alastor’s face to his left side. The side where the wound was. The wound the Radio Daemon had sustained because of him. 

It had been decades since Alastor had been dealt that near-lethal blow. Decades since Lucifer - still a young, inexperienced sorcerer - had attempted and failed to fully heal it. Decades of watching Alastor deal with it every single day. The Radio Daemon was such a control freak who hated showing weakness, but Lucifer knew him well enough by now to know his little tells. 

There were days when it would be nothing more than a light twitch of his eye or one of his ears whenever he had to bend to pick up or adjust something he was working on - those were the good days. Then, there would be the days where Lucifer felt the tug on his soul, the pulse of daemonic magic drawing from his celestial core. Those days were the okay days, where all Alastor needed was a tiny boost to ease the pain away. The bad days were, of course, the worst days. Those were the days when the Radio Daemon didn’t even show up. His essence would curl around Lucifer’s soul and just sit there, writhing and thrashing in unspoken agony. Whenever Lucifer would ask him about those days, he would just smile and carry on with whatever he was doing. The King of Faustus never pushed on those days - he often saw the shadow of the old war deep in Alastor’s eyes as well.

He lifted his hand and moved it towards the wounded side, golden magic already curling gently at his fingertips. He could already see the scar in his mind’s eye: a jagged, deep gouge that stretched from just below the shoulder blade down to the waistline. It was puckered and discolored, mottled with angry red and purple hues, a twisted testament to the sheer force of the blow. Faint golden lines coursed through it as well, permanent reminders of the fact that the blow had been delivered by an Exorcist’s ax - and a powerful one at that. Before his fingertips could so much as brush the clothes above it, one red-clawed hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, holding it still. Frowning, he looked up to meet Alastor’s red eyes.

“Don’t do this, Al. Let me-”

“His Majesty needs to conserve his strength,” the Radio Daemon said softly. His grip tightened, causing Lucifer to wince. “Even with the Seal of Distance broken, we’ll both be weakened the further we are from each other. I’d rather not have to return to the sight of your head sitting on a silver platter.”

Lucifer sighed. “We don’t know how long you’ll be gone. And if you have one of your bad days-”

“Then it would only be logical for me to return as soon as possible with your silly little daughter in tow, no?” Alastor’s smile turned sardonic. “I’m sure that once she sees there are no silk bed sheets or warm croissants for her out in the field, she’ll come running back to the castle before you can Manifest another one of your ridiculous little ducks.”

Lucifer sighed. Alastor was right. He hated when his daemon was right. This meant he would be subject to at least a month’s worth of gloating. He dropped his hand as soon as Alastor let go of his wrist. “You might wanna pick a disguise for when you get there. If anyone sees the Radio Daemon among them, they might die of fright. And I need every soldier I can get right now.”

“Don’t you worry, Your Majesty,” Alastor said as he stepped towards the window. A breeze picked up in that moment, gently lifting his coattails and hair. His face was highlighted silver from the moon above. “I’ll ensure that your army is well-equipped to make up for your own shortcomings.” Then, with a small bow, he melted into the shadows. The King of Faustus looked out the window, watching as the tiniest flicker of movement signaled the Radio Daemon moving from shadow to shadow.

Lucifer watched for a few moments, a strange feeling of longing twisting in his heart. He… hadn’t felt this strange and empty since the night he lost Lilith. That pit her death had left in his heart was mostly filled over the decades, but now there was another hole forming. His magic hummed and twisted inside him, searching for the shadow that always lay curled around his lifeforce, that liked to thrash and dance and sing around his heart. Alastor was gone. He was far away and for some reason, everything hurt. As Lucifer stepped away from the window and headed for his ducks, he found himself praying for the first time. Not just for Charlotte, but for Alastor as well.

He would move heaven and earth to ensure their safe return.

Alastor was honestly quite irritated. One moment, he was relaxing and curled around Lucifer’s core, listening to the sweet sounds of his king thrashing in response to a nightmare. The next? He was way, way too close to the infamous Morningstar bloodline’s celestial Faith magic, which caused his power to flair wildly. A Daemon getting too close to such magic could burn to a crisp; Alastor had no intention of dying to a Halo, of all spells.

Of course, nothing could compare to the storm of absolute fury that flared up in the Radio Daemon’s chest as he and Lucifer gazed upon the empty cabinet in his study. There was no stopping the bile that rose in his throat as Lucifer’s panic thrashed around him, creating a cacophony of anxiety and desperation. The Princess was gone. She had stolen away under the cover of night, leaving nothing behind but a crown and a few tiny golden hairs. She had stolen his armor and weapon, obviously with full intent of rushing into battle with those things on and ruining the line of succession with her death. And what was more? He could sense Niffty had gone with her. Dear, sweet, demented little Niffty would meet her death on the battlefield at the same time as their foolish little princess.

Thankfully, like any daemon, Niffty left a little scent behind. It was barely a tickle in his nose, a tiny bit of spice in the otherwise crisp scent of Faustus, but it was there. It was just enough for him to track them. His irritation rose as he leaped from shadow to shadow, the lack of sleep combined with the distance from his king only adding to the storm already brewing in what was left of his soul. Even more than that, his wound was acting up a bit - he was actually having trouble leaping from shadow to shadow. As much as he didn’t want to, he would need to assume a… less intimidating form once he reunited with the princess. It would use up less of his own daemonic energy as well as aggravate the wound just a little bit less.

The little bit of spice was extremely strong now, almost drowning out all the other scents around him. They were close. They were - there. Found them. That wasn’t too hard at all. Alastor paused for a moment and stepped out of the shadow of the tree. He stood there unmoving and watched, red eyes carefully scanning the clearing before him.

Charlotte had chosen a clearing just over the hill of where the main army was encamped. She was so close that any idiot who wandered a little too far into the woods would find her; this meant she was vulnerable for kidnapping, attack, and all sorts of other absolutely unsavory things that made Alastor’s stomach churn at the very thought. This girl had to be brought home as soon as possible. The sooner she was, the safer she’d be, and the less Alastor would feel this strange pull that had settled over his soul the moment he left the palace grounds.

“Okay, okay, let’s try this!” Charlotte said cheerfully as she turned to face Niffty sitting cross-legged on the grass and little Dazzle who was staring off into the middle distance nearby. She cleared her throat and deepened her voice. “Hello! Excuse me, where do I sign in? I see you have armor and a sword! I have them too. They’re super macho and tough!” She attempted to draw said sword from its scabbard, only to drop it on the ground. Alastor felt his ears flatten against his head as the green runes along the blade lit up, turning the grass in a circle around it into ice then setting it aflame. By the time the Enchantment had run its course, a rather large patch of black, oozing ground was left behind where once stood lush green grass.

Niffty tilted her head, a cheerful smile spreading over her face. “I love it! Especially the part where you dropped Al’s sword and made the ground all goopy!” She giggled. “Maybe we can push your enemies into that stuff so they can embrace the endless black void too!”

Charlotte let out a small huff. “Okay, how about this?” She cleared her throat and put on her rather pathetic deep voice impression again. “Ah, you want to know more about my armor? Of course! It’s red because I want to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. Red is a super manly color. Way manlier than black o-or pink!”

Niffty stared at her and slowly blinked her one great eye. Then, she let out a loud snort. “You’re still definitely a girl, Princess.”

Charlotte groaned as she sank to the ground, careful to avoid the black substance oozing out of the patch she created. “You’re right… God, who am I kidding? It’s gonna take a miracle for me to not get recognized.”

“Right you are,” Alastor said, stepping out of the shadows at last. The Crown Princess’ red eyes widened in shock at his approach, leaping to her feet and backing up slowly. As though sensing her distress, Dazzle flew in front of her and growled, strings of golden magic surrounding him. Niffty, meanwhile, just stood up and waved cheerfully at him. “Anyone with half of the brains your father possesses will see that you’re a young woman wearing stolen armor from miles away.”

“Alastor…” Charlotte bit her lip as she held up her hand. Gold runes began appearing on her arms and the tips of her fingers, the crimson armor sensing that its wearer was in danger. “I-I… I had to do this. I had to protect you and Dad!”

“Protect us?” the Radio Daemon sneered. Black tendrils crawled out from the shadows of the trees and moved towards her, undulating with his unspoken fury. “Or your own fragile little ego, Princess? You wanted to play hero to your people? Did you consider for a second how your father felt when he saw your crown on his desk? How I felt when I saw that I had failed to protect the one creature in this world who lay closer to his heart than me?” His tendrils were surrounding her now. Dazzle grew to his full size in response, flames licking at the side of his mouth. Niffty ran forward and placed herself between Alastor and the other two, single eye filled with determination. 

Alastor wanted more than anything to squeeze his fist close. To make the tendrils rush upon the Crown Princess and rip his armor right off her body. To tear Dazzle apart for daring to growl and snap his jaws at him. To throw Niffty out of the way so she wouldn’t be able to interfere while he fulfilled Lucifer’s order and ensured that Charlotte never “pulled this shit” again.

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to scare the girl before him, no matter how much he wanted to forcefully rip her from her armor, the Seal of Bloodlines stopped him. It prevented him from harming anyone with a single drop of Morningstar blood in them. He narrowed his eyes as he snapped his fingers, the tendrils disappearing like little whispers. Charlotte swallowed as she stood up straight, bottom lip trembling.

“I’m sorry, Al. I… I didn’t mean to hurt you o-or Dad. I-I mean, yeah, I knew it would hurt you two, but-” she swallowed. “Sending you to war with that old wound? It would hurt a lot more if you died and Dad became weak. Plus, I… I need to be with my people. If I’m gonna protect them as queen one day, then I need to know what it’s like to fight alongside them. I need to know what they go through every day to keep my home safe.” 

His static popped and buzzed, low and dangerous. Why, oh why did the princess have to inherit her father’s fierce determination? His unwavering protectiveness? His dreamer’s soul? If anything, it was even worse in her - she lacked Lucifer’s understanding of war, his shattered heart from his wife’s death, and the deep-seated insecurities over his reign. All she had was some childhood naivety, the sort that could only be found in a princess forever trapped in her ivory tower.

“I don’t suppose you would consider coming quietly?” Alastor asked. The fierce look on the Princess’ face confirmed all he needed to know. “I thought not. Very well then. My orders were clear: bring you home in one piece. Seeing that I can’t harm you-“ he grimaced. “I will be joining you on this little tantrum of yours.”

Red eyes lit up as she clasped her hands together. Seeming to sense that his mistress was no longer in danger, Dazzle turned back to normal and once against began wandering around the clearing. “Thank you! I’ll win this war. I’ll fulfill my duty. I’ll make sure not to dishonor you or Dad while doing so. I promise!”

Ugh. Determination, eagerness, optimism… Alastor wanted to puke. Those were the sort of emotions that should have no place on the face of a future ruler, particularly one who might have to take command during war. Then again, those were also the sort of emotions that always crumbled oh so nicely in the face of a failed dream. Now that sounded like a delicious and entertaining thought. Yes, if he accompanied her, then he would be able to keep her safe, fulfill Lucifer’s order, and watch her face crumble in despair in the face of her failure to play the hero. 

Perhaps this wasn’t such a big waste of his time after all.

“You best not dishonor any of us, my dear,” he said quietly. He began walking closer to her, his form rippling and shifting with every step. “Not your family.” Step. He was shrinking. “Yourself.” Another step. Red fur grew all over him. “Or that silly little lizard you call a steed.” He finished his transformation and looked up at her, red eyes narrowed, ears twitching. Charlotte looked down at him in surprise, mouth parting ever so slightly as she took in his new form.

“Alastor, you’re-”

“A kitty!” Niffty squealed as she ran forward, tiny arms open. “You’re an ugly little kitty!”

Alastor’s back arched, tail standing up straight. Once again, black tendrils erupted from the ground and from his back. Niffty didn’t know what hit her - the smaller daemon suddenly found herself completely wrapped up in the tendrils and suspended upside down, giggling the entire time. He smiled up at her, playfully bouncing her in his tendril.

“Niffty dear, I do ask that you keep your hands off me. My Seal only prevents me from hurting dear little Charlotte here. It says nothing about me eviscerating you and your demented little mind.”

Niffty let out a giggle as she saluted him. “You got it, Alastor!”

He dropped her gently on the ground and waited for her to transform into her little red jewel beetle form. Then, he turned to the still clearly nervous princess. The gold runes on her armor had disappeared now, and at least she had figured out how to sheathe his sword, even if the leather scabbard was now covered in a rather unhealthy amount of black substance. Maybe there was some hope after all.

Ha! That was a hilarious thought.

“We should get going, Charlotte dear,” Alastor said as he walked over and climbed into her bag. Niffty did the same, hopping into a front pocket. “You need to practice your… manly strut and go meet your new peers.” His static gave another pop, another whine of frequency. “Niffty and I will stay hidden. It would never do for a random ‘citizen’ to be walking about with the royal daemons at ‘his’ beck and call.”

She smiled as she bent down and picked up her back, the two daemons settling gently on her back. Then, she faced the camp. Alastor felt just the slightest tingle of eagerness pulse through her form as she stood straight, shoulders back, chest high, feet apart, head up, then began her strut into camp, swinging her arms dramatically.

This was going to be a long, long day.

A cacophony of sounds and sights assaulted her senses as she walked into the camp, a bustling hive of activity nestled amidst the rugged terrain. Tents of various shapes and sizes dotted the landscape, fabric billowing in the wind as if alive with the energy of the soldiers that - at least for now - called them home. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and smoke, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil and freshly cut grass. Voices echoed all over the place, sometimes punctuated by uproarious laughter or an occasional shout. 

Charlotte found herself navigating a small labyrinth of tents and makeshift pathways. Wannabe merchants hawked their wares from makeshift stalls, cooks toiled over open fires. Amidst the chaos, she caught glimpses of soldiers training in makeshift sparring arenas, mud, blood, and even some teeth flying everywhere as they wrestled and punched each other into submission. She let out a very high-pitched shriek as one especially large man landed in front of her, causing many to turn in her direction. Anxiety coiled in her gut as she lifted her hand and waved nervously, praying that they would simply lose interest in her and turn away. Thankfully, they did, allowing her to take more stock of the hustle and bustle around her.

There seemed to be a lively group going on nearby. One person opened his shirt and showed off a rather intricate dragon tattoo. Charlotte stopped, unable to help herself as she stared at it. She wasn’t the only one either; there were three other people looking at it. The one nearest to the tattoo - short with a stocky build - scowled and leaned in, black and yellow eyes scanning the dragon.

“So… how drunk were you when you got this?”

“Very!” the tattooed man said cheerfully. “But that’s fine. This tattoo will protect me from harm!”

A wry smile appeared on the soldier’s face. Then, he reached into his pocket and tossed a few dice directly at the tattoo. Charlotte gasped as the dice exploded on contact, causing the tattooed man to shriek and run away, his belly now singed. This caused the tallest of the three - a thin, shapely creature with long, long, long legs and heterochromatic eyes - to burst into peals of laughter.

“Better get a refund on that tattoo, Dragon Boy!” he shouted at the retreating figure. “And some aloe vera for those burns!”

“Gambit sorcery, hm? Interesting,” Alastor remarked from inside her bag. Charlotte tilted her ear towards him as she felt the cat wriggling around. “It may be useful to have him as an ally. You never quite know when you need something to throw at your enemies to send their limbs flying!”

An ally? Charlotte knew how to make allies! A gift was absolutely the best way to win hearts and minds. And if what Alastor said about Gambit sorcery was true, then it was her duty to make sure that she made the correct Allies too. With a small grin, she closed her eyes and once again tapped into the power of Manifestation. Golden sparks danced at her fingertips, potential thrummed through her veins. Slowly, ever so slowly, the form of a cute little rubber duck appeared in her hands, one with large eyebrows and a pair of tiny fuzzy dice hanging around its next. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and-

Was that a shadow tendril? Charlotte barely had time to register it disappearing as she went down, careening headlong into the stocky recruit. The collision sent both of them sprawling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Their momentum carried them into a nearby stack of wooden crates, causing them to topple like dominoes. WIth a resounding crash, the crates splintered and scattered, their contents spilling out in a chaotic cascade. The rubber duck skidded away from her.

“What the fuck!? Get off me!” the stocky soldier shouted, shoving Charlotte off of him. The princess barely had time to mumble an apology before the third recruit entered the fray.

“Stop this nonsense, friends! For we are comrades in arms!” he shouted. Out of his sleeves rolled numerous little… eggs who ran around him in circles.

“You said it, Boss!”

“Comrades in arms forever!”

The stocky soldier growled and leaped to his feet. “Rules said no Familiars, Pentious. Can’t you fuckin’ read?”

Pentious straightened his back. “These are not mere Familiars, Husk! They’re family. They’re superior beings! They’re-”

“A bunch of baby omelets,” the tall recruit snorted. 

Pentious hissed. The crackle of Invention sorcery filled the air, creating a sharp aura of potential around the man. “I’ll show you baby omelets! Egg Bois, atta-”

Husk’s reaction was immediate. He flicked a few dice over the tall recruit’s head towards the living eggs, smirking with satisfaction as they detonated in seconds. Pentious let out a cry of dismay.

“Watch the hair, Husky!” the tall recruit said. “The shampoo alone’s worth more than your house!”

“Don’t have a house, Angel,” Husk said with a shrug. Then, he turned back towards Charlotte, eyes aflame. “But better no house than no fucking head, which is what you’ll be lackin’ when I’m through with you.”

“W-Wait!” Charlotte said, deepening her voice. “I’m just here to be friends, honest!”

The Gambit sorcerer sneered. “Then maybe you should’ve thought about-”

He got no further. The buzz in Charlotte’s bag and the slight twitch of a soul near her heart was her only warning. Before she could stop her daemon, Niffty had taken flight from her bag and charged, heading straight into Husk’s ear. The Gambit sorcerer let out a surprised shout, one hand coming up to clutch at the ear where no doubt the jewel beetle was buzzing and smashing into his ear canal with her tiny body. Charlotte watched in dismay as one foot shot out and stepped on the fallen rubber duck, Husk falling with a flail and inadvertently knocking Angel over. As he fell, he hit a nearby barrel of water, sending it rolling downhill and splashing its contents over one of the cooking fires. The flames extinguished with a loud hiss, sending up plumes of steam that obscured the entire area. In a panic, she heard Pentious release even more of those strange little Egg Bois, who ran all around the camp tripping soldiers and knocking over everything from crates to pots. 

A cackle sounded through the air. Niffty had taken advantage of the steam shrouding the area and had transformed back into her usual self, happily running around and causing even more chaos. Every now and then, she saw flashes of the little daemon as she grabbed pans and smashed it into random faces, yanked tufts of hair from screaming scalps, and dropped to the ground to collect any teeth that fell. 

She had to get away. The Princess of Faustus ducked her head as she attempted to crawl to safety, one of her feet getting caught on the edge of a nearby tent in the confusion. It collapsed in a heap of canvas and poles. The nearby soldiers attempted to salvage what remained of their belongings inside, only to inadvertently trip over a coil of rope and send a stack of armor tumbling to the ground with a clatter.

Alastor’s cat-like yowl was her only warning. Charlotte looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as tiny explosion from Husk’s Gambit magic lit up the steam. Was he looking for her? Or maybe Angel? What if one of Pentious’ Egg Bois found her? She was doomed, wasn’t she? She was going to fail in her duty and be forced to give Alastor his armor back and-

“What the fuck is going on here!?”

As she approached the entrance of the General’s tent, her footsteps fell with sharp purpose and determination. The sun had just crested over the horizon, casting a pale gold glow over the encampment. The air was filled with the sounds of soldiers going about their duties: waking up, making breakfast, and ensuring that all was well before they rode off. 

She paused before the flap of the tent and took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp, crisp texture of the air around her. Unable to help herself, she felt a swell of pride in her heart at the thought of finally being deemed worthy enough to sit at the table with her adopted mother, to talk strategy with her and General Zestiel and decide upon the best plan of attack. These weren’t mere Angels they were fighting, after all; they were Exorcists, specially trained Angels who excelled in Faith, Grace, and Blessing. Those were the kind of magic that were veritable death sentences for many of those who lived on the other side of Judas’ Canyon. It was their job to ensure that they could not just fight back, but also drive them back. Without any further hesitation, she lifted the flap of the tent and walked inside.

Generals Carmilla and Zestiel looked up at her as she entered. Zestiel gave her a somewhat toothy grin as Carmilla, stern as ever, softened her expression ever so slightly. There was a proud glint in her eye as she regarded her adoptive daughter, a silent acknowledgement of the woman and warrior she had become and the legacy she carried on her shoulders.

“We thank thee for gracing us with thy presence, Vaggie,” Zestiel said, his voice soothing and low. He gestured at the map in front of them, tiny green sparks dancing at his fingertips. “Please, sit. There is much we must discuss.”

Vaggie obeyed, sitting down and frowning at the markers before her. The gold markers - representing the Exorcists - were much closer than she would’ve liked. They had already surged past Judas’ Canyon and now seemed to be encamped in Virgil Forest. If they didn’t do something soon, it would be almost child’s place for them to move through Alighieri Pass and attack the imperial city from there.

“The Exorcists have struck here, here, and here,” Carmilla said, gesturing to the spots. Tiny glimmers of silver lit up every place she pointed to. “General Zestiel and I will take the main troops up to the Alighieri Pass and stop them before they destroy this settlement.” She pursed her elegant black-painted lips. “They are striking hard, fast, and without a single shred of mercy. We will need to meet them head-on.”

“What can I do?” Vaggie asked. Her slim fingers twitched lightly, ready to pick up a weapon and charge into war. “Put me wherever you need.”

“Thy presence is required here,” Zestiel said. He gestured to the flap of the tent. “Thou hast proven thyself worthy of taking upon the mantle of leadership. We possess high hopes in thy ability to corral and train new troops.” He regarded her with a slight tilt of his head. “Wouldst thou take up the burden, Captain?”

Vaggie’s jaw dropped. Captain. She was going to be made Captain. Her pulse raced at the thought, palms growing sweaty. Could she do this? Was she ready? What if she failed? What if she couldn’t get the new recruits in line? What if-

Carmilla’s gaze softened just a little bit as she reached out and placed one hand over Vaggie’s. It was a gentle, parental gesture. Not the sort you’d find anywhere near a battlefield, let alone coming from one of the generals of the Imperial Army. “Vaggie… you graduated top of your class. You’ve mastered a countless number of military techniques. You come from a family of exceptional military might.” The corner of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. “When you and your battalion are ready, you will join Zestiel, me, and your sisters. When you do, we’ll fight off the Exorcists. Together.”

Almost immediately, all the tension leaked out of her. Vaggie grinned up at her adoptive mother, then turned to Zestiel with a nod. “I’ll do it. Thank you for this honor.”

“The honor belongs to us,” Zestiel said. “Now. Let us gaze upon thy battalion.” He and Carmilla rose at this point and walked out of the tent. Vaggie, for her part, took a few more deep breaths to steady herself. Vaggie Madrigal. Captain Vaggie Madrigal. Leader of Faustus’ best troops- No. The greatest troops of all time. With a grin on her face, she lifted the flap and walked outside to meet her destiny-

Only to have to duck as a couple of dice sailed over her head, tiny explosions sounding off behind her. The newly made captain stared mortified, her jaw dropping as she took in the chaotic scene before her. All of her new recruits - many of whom looked like they hadn’t seen a lick of battle their whole lives - were locked in some sort of chaotic mass. Shouts, screams, explosions, and sizzling magic melded together in a chaotic cacophony. There were so many flying bits of magic and limbs that there was no way for her to tell where the chaos ended and her recruits began. There seemed to be some sort of wild looking little girl running around too amongst the scene, her form shrouded by the steam emitting from a nearby extinguished fire. In the next blink, however, she disappeared as though she were never there. Weird. Maybe just a trick of light? Unable to help herself, she looked towards Carmilla and Zestiel, dark eye half begging them for help.

Zestiel only grinned wider and tilted his head. “And thus thy first trial begins. We wish you good tidings in carrying this burden.” Then, he took Carmilla’s hand and walked away with her, heading towards the mounted troops just over the ridge.

Okay. She could do this. She could get this under control. Turning to the chaos, Vaggie cleared her throat. Be authoritative, but don’t shriek. Keep it under control. And most importantly? Use your damn diaphragm.

“Soldiers! What the fuck is going on here!?”

Her voice cut through the chaos like a knife, causing all present to immediately straighten and leap away from the chaos. In one single, fluid motion, all soldiers lifted on hand and pointed to the one currently still crouched on the ground. Vaggie’s single eye looked down at the creature before her, taking in the alabaster skin, golden hair, and… really, really fancy looking red armor. Really fancy looking. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly from one of the higher up families. Vaggie stood silent as he removed those slim hands from his face, revealing wide golden eyes, rosy cheeks, and a face that could only be described as pretty. Very pretty.

Still, no matter how pretty the guy was, Vaggie had a bunch of idiot recruits to get under control and a duty to fulfill. WIth that in mind, she walked over and roughly pulled the recruit to his feet. His gauntlets - clearly just a touch too big for those slim hands - slipped off just enough to reveal even more pale skin. Vaggie nearly blanched as her fingertips brushed against the bare wrist. Were noble kids usually so warm? The pale guy gave her a hesitant smile, revealing dazzling white teeth. Vaggie’s scowl deepened in response.

“I don’t need anyone causing trouble in my camp,” she said sharply. “What’s your name, Recruit?”

“Erm…” the pale recruit hesitated. “I-I’m… um…”

“Um?” Her frown deepened. “Your name is Um?”

“N-No, ma’am! Captain! Erm… soldier person!” his voice was gentle, a touch of music underlying it. “I have an actual name! It’s uh… a super manly actual name!”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “So what is it?”

“Er…” the guy tilted his head, golden eyes narrowing slightly as though listening to something. Maybe the wind? Vaggie had always known that noble kids weren’t exactly the brightest flames in Faust, but this was ridiculous. “I’m Gad Zoontight.”

Was this guy for real? “Gad Zoontight?”

“N-No! Heh, sorry, it was a joke. Trying to lighten the mood, you know?” A an awkward, stilted laugh, followed by another pause. “I’m… Charlie. Charlie Magne.”

That was the first normal fucking name he said today. Vaggie narrowed her eyes at the new recruit. If he was fucking around again, so help her, she was going to hang him by the ankle from the nearest tree. “Charlie? Is that your actual name?”

Charlie nodded eagerly. “Um… yup! That’s me, Charlie! Like I said, a super manly name.”

“And where did you come from, Charlie?”

The dazzling smile was back. “The Royal Family sent me!” He opened his arms and faced the troops, as though trying to throw literal rainbows and sparkles on top of them. “I’m here on behalf of King Lucifer Morningstar and Alastor, the Radio Daemon to motivate this army and promote our bonds as comrades in arms!”

Silence. Someone farted. The tallest recruit lifted up perfectly manicured nails and examined them, a bored expression on his face. A shorter and stocky soldier scratched his ear. Pentious… Pentious blinked owlishly.

Vaggie sent Charlie a one-eyed glare. “You? His Majesty sent you as the representative of the Royal Family? Who the hell are you?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Charlie’s brow. “U-Um… I’m… I’m King-....... Consort’s… Guard. The King Consort’s Guard.”

… What?

“I didn’t know King Lucifer was married.”

“O-Oh! Well, no, he isn’t yet! Ahaha, he’s engaged!”

“Engaged? To who?”

“U-Um… it’s a secret! But it’s fine for them to send me b-because you won’t be able to tell who the King Consort is just from his guard and I’m a strong fighter! Yeah! The Royal Family just… doesn’t… talk about me much,” his left eye twitched. Vaggie paused for a moment as nervousness and some other strange emotion flashed behind those rather pretty red irises. “But I can prove I came from them! Look!”

He held out his hand, showing his palm. Vaggie squinted at it, just barely able to make out some sort of engraving just barely visible at its center. Before she could stare much longer, the engraving flared to life with a gentle golden light, forming the outline of a snake wrapped around an antique radio. It was King Lucifer’s Crest, representing his contract with the Radio Daemon, Alastor. Well, this was interesting. There was absolutely no doubt that wherever this man got his armor, it was from someone very high up in the Royal Family.

“Hm,” Vaggie looked away from him, now gazing at her recruits. They were a mess. Every single one of them were out of shape, undermuscled, or obviously had some kind of magic that was terrible for combat. She had her work cut out for her - and all she could pray for was that her adoptive mother and sisters didn’t finish off the Exorcists before she got there. 

“Alright, buckle up buttercups!” She put her hands behind her back and began marching down the line. “No more kid shit. Starting now, we’re gonna make you all grow from babies to actual fuckin’ adults.” She stopped to glare at Charlie. “And thanks to your good buddy Charlie here, you’ll be cleaning every individual blade of grass until it shines. After that, get some rest. You’ll need to be here bright and early tomorrow to start the real training.” Without another word, she turned and walked back into the large leadership tent, smirking as she felt hundreds of eyes boring into the so-called King Consort’s Guard.

She had a very, very hard task ahead of her.

“Wakey-wakey, eggs and babies!” Niffty said cheerfully as she hopped into the tent. Charlie - she might as well practice calling herself that now - groaned and put her pillow over her head. It was too early. It was way too early. As soon as she figured out how to best use her authority without giving away her true identity. Hopefully just being the King Consort’s guard was enough to command at least some respect.

“Oh Prin- King Consort’s Guard,” Niffty trilled. She ran over to Charlie and started poking her pillow with a rather sharp stick. Where did she even get that? “You gotta wake up for training!” When that didn’t work, she resorted to trying to tug the pillow out of Charlie’s hands. “C’mon, I know boys are late all the time, but military boys don’t like it when other military boys are late! Plus, training starts today. A bunch of those guys are gonna be shirtless.” A wild, somewhat unhinged giggled. “I can’t wait!”

Nope. Absolutely not. She was not going to get up at this unholy hour no matter how much her daemon-

Static filled her tent now, seeming to thrash against its confines. Almost immediately, fear and panic coiled in Charlie’s gut. She had lived long enough with the Radio Daemon to know what this meant: he was annoyed. Very, very annoyed. Not angry enough to inflict violence, but certainly irritated enough to make it everyone else’s problem. Almost immediately, she threw the pillow off her head and sat up, nearly smashing her head into Alastor’s nose as the Radio Daemon lay on top of her in cat form. Gulping, she looked up to meet Alastor’s pitch black eyes, the radio dials inside them twitching as he stared at her with a smile pulled very tightly over his face.

“No time for your silly shenanigans, my dear,” he said, voice strained, eye twitching. His cat ears were flattened low against his head. “If you don’t get up now, you won’t have time to eat. And I would so hate to see you collapse from starvation.” The hushed tones of a jazzy ballad echoed around him. “So why don’t you get up, hm? Your… comrades in arms are having breakfast now.”

Charlie shivered. Even if Alastor couldn’t hurt her, there was no denying the dark, dangerous promise behind his voice. She numbly got up and waited until he slipped out of her tent before getting changed. Part of her almost wanted to Manifest some extra gifts for the army; she definitely started off the wrong foot with them, and there was nothing worse than comrades fighting amongst each other. A small twist in her gut gave her pause - Manifesting was a uniquely Morningstar bloodline ability, just like their Daemon’s Pacts. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal her identity. At best, everyone would fall over themselves trying to earn her favor. At worst? She’d be sent home and locked up in her ivory tower once again.

Alastor wasn’t waiting for her when she stepped out of her tent in her training uniform, Niffty having already changed back into her jewel beetle form and sitting happily in her hair. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. Part of her suspected that he had slipped away into the shadows of the tents, probably searching for a radio he could use his powers on. It made sense; he could listen in on just about any radio in Faustus and spy on the populace. In the midst of a war, it was an enormously useful ability.

“Does… he seem crankier than usual to you?” Charlie asked as she set off towards the mess tent. There were already recruits getting prepared for training, whether it was polishing armor or waving wooden training swords around. Still more were chowing down on some sort of strangely colored mush for breakfast.

Niffty’s hummed “Oh, definitely. He’s the one mess I can’t clean up right now!” She let out a giggle. “He’s been all smile-mad ever since we got here. I think he’s cranky cuz he isn’t in the palace right now… or maybe he misses someone.” 

Charlie picked up her food and turned around, frowning when she saw that almost all of the tables were completely full. From the looks of things, yesterday’s punishment had managed to actually help the members of the army form those bonds that Charlie had been yearning for. Despite her role in causing everything, she couldn’t help but allow a tiny swell of pride to rise in her chest - this was what she was fighting for. This was what she wanted. Even if they hated her, at least they wouldn’t hate each other!

“Hey! Tall, gold, and smiley! Over here!” 

Charlie looked over her shoulder, golden eyes widening when she saw who was waving to her. Angel Dust, the tall recruit from yesterday, grinned from the table he stood at. This guy was tall - taller than pretty much anyone else in the tent. He didn’t even need to stand up for her to pick him out from where he sat with the other two guys. Charlie’s mind managed to just barely supply her with the names Husk and Pentious.

“Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, Stutters,” Angel said cheerfully. He patted the seat next to him. “Get over here and eat your slop with us!”

Unable to help herself, Charlie grinned and walked over, her… sludgey stuff jiggling slightly as she sat down. Husk gave her a very noncommittal grunt and rolled his eyes. The bowl of stuff sat completely untouched in front of him, the Faustian recruit choosing instead to sip from a silver flask. Pentious, on the other hand, was eagerly lapping up his food, sometimes turning to his side and dropping bits on the table for his living eggs. It was… weirdly cute. If it weren’t also for the fact that the eggs had a habit of literally licking the table and then the ground for more food.

“Erm, hi guys! Wow, so nice to have a manly brunch with manly men!” Charlie said. She was nailing this act. “Um, so about yesterday-”

“Lemme just cut you off right there, Stutters,” Angel said. He sent her a smarmy smile and leaned his cheek on his hand. “Forgive and forget and all that jazz, right? It’s in the past. You weren’t the only one causin' trouble, ain’t that right Husk?”

Husk let out another noncommittal grunt and drank from his flask. “Dunno about that. Last I checked, he tripped into me.”

“And last we all checked, you’re the one who got his explode-y sorcery sealed until we start training,” Angel smirked.

“And you’re an Egg Boi murderer!” Pentious said, sticking a forked tongue in Husk’s direction. “A crime you shall be tried for before the Benedict Court!”

“... Whatever you’re on, I want it, Slithers,” Angel said. Then, he turned back to Charlie. “Anyways, we all got off the wrong foot - literally. So I figured since you’re, you know, so close to the Royal Family and all, it’s probably best to be on your good side for when things get real dicey.” He winked. “So… Hi. I’m Angel Dust.” He grasped her hand with one of his own and shook it. Then another arm came out and shook it. Then another. Then three more. Charlie felt her jaw drop as this happened, the tall recruit’s heterochromatic eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Wh-Wha-”

“That’s my bloodline’s sorcery, baby. We call it Shifting. Lets us grow extra things. Limbs, hair, eyes, holes…” he emphasized that last point with a wink. “Anything you want, I can make… plus some.”

Pentious gasped. “You can Manifest!? Then you must be a-”

“Not a Morningstar, Slithers,” Angel groaned with a roll of his eyes. “I ain’t Manifestin’ shit. Just rearranging the cells in my body to make or take away extra stuff. Manifestin’ is literally summoning shit outta nowhere. I can’t do that!”

“Oh… how… disappointing,” Pentious said, deflating slightly. “And here I was so excited to have a Morningstar amongst us. Their Majesties’ abilities combined with my own would surely bring us glory!”

“Oh yeah? And what can you do, Snakey?”

Pentious smirked. “I, Sir Pentious XIV, last heir of my bloodline, have been granted the power of Hatchery!”

Husk’s dark eyes shifted slightly as he regarded the Egg Bois still licking the table. “So… You can summon living eggs.”

“Correct!” Pentious said. “And once I have mastered my power, I will be able to create an army of Egg Bois! All shall kneel before me and despair!”

“... Right,” Angel said. He casually flicked one of the Egg Bois off the table, causing him to roll away. “You do you, Slithers, but I think you need to start making stronger or bigger eggs or something. The only thing an army of these guys would do is make breakfast much more convenient for everyone.”

“NO! Ser Sunnyside!”

“So… Angel, Pentious, and Husk,” Charlie said. She clapped her hands together. “It’s wonderful to meet all of you! I’m Charlie. My sorcery is-” she hesitated. Right. She can’t come out and say she can Manifest. That would just reveal her identity, and that was the last thing she needed right now. “Is… Needle.”

The table went silent. Every single one of them looked extremely confused. Husk raised an eyebrow and took another long sip of his flask. “... Needle?”

Shit, she should’ve asked Alastor how to best go about hiding her powers. Well, that was fine. She could probably just get away with making stuff up until she talked to him and figured out a way to Manifest things without Manifesting. Yeah, good plan, Charlie. Excellent plan.

“I can make needles!” Charlie said. She picked up her spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “Like this, watch!”

It took a lot of concentration. A lot. So much that she genuinely wished she had paid more attention during her sorcery lessons. But if there was one thing that the Morningstar bloodline could do, it was reliably draw on a daemon’s powers. She and Niffty hadn’t practiced much, but hopefully doing something small like turning a spoon into a large sewing needle would be enough. Slowly, ever so slowly, the spoon thinned out under her touch, plastic giving way to shining silver. Charlie stuck out her tongue as she poured just a tiny bit of Manifestation into it, allowing a small hole to form at the top. By the time she was done drawing on Niffty’s power, the little jewel beetle had essentially fallen asleep in her hair, wings fluttering quietly. And the thing Charlie was holding was so dull it looked more like a crochet hook than a needle, but hey! Progress!

Angel was the first to break the silence. “Well, that’s not something you see every day. I bet you can use that for some real kinky shit-”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m too sober for this,” Husk interrupted, taking another swig of his drink. “I’m gonna be way too sober for the next God knows how long.”

“Impressive! Do you think you can make a few Egg Boi sized ones? My army needs to be outfitted with the finest weapons!”

Before Charlie could answer, a trumpet blared loudly from outside. Almost immediately, all of the recruits still sitting at the tables looked over to the flap of the tent, where the silver-haired captain was already marching out. Sighing reluctantly, Charlie stood up from the table and followed her newfound… friends? Comrades? Outside. It was time to start training.

Chapter Text

Captain Vaggie’s dark eye flashed dangerously as they approached, causing a shiver to run down Charlie’s spine. Her silver hair was pulled up into a high ponytail today, throwing the sharpness of her collarbones and gentle curve of her jaw into greater relief. Her outfit - a tight black bodysuit with thigh-high gray boots - left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She smiled grimly at the group as they stood in front of her, single eye sweeping over the assembled recruits. Her lip curled. Another involuntary shiver ran down Charlie’s spine.

“Alright, Soldiers! Let’s lay down some ground rules here. Every single day, you will get up, get breakfast, then assemble here swiftly and silently. You’ll obey all my orders without question and put every effort into training to make yourself and the army stronger. Anyone who doesn’t do that will be tied up and punished.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Angel whispered, grinning sardonically as he elbowed Charlie with one of his arms. This made Vaggie stop in front of him immediately, a tight smile on her face.

“Dust. Thank you for volunteering for our first exercise,” Vaggie smirked. She walked over to a nearby crate and tore off the front with her bare hands. Inside was what looked like a simple transparent cube, which she pulled out easily. At the very bottom of the cube was a tiny shard that sparkled a brilliant gold. Charlie’s breath left her body immediately, red eyes widening. That was a shard of Grace. They were only found amongst the highest ranking Exorcists. One single shard was said to be enough to amplify a sorcerer’s power tenfold for however long it existed.

As though she were reading Charlie’s thoughts, Vaggie turned to the assembled group and smirked. “This represents strength.” She patted the top of the transparent cube. Charlie squinted at it. It seemed to be made of… glass but not. Plastic but also not. Some sort of material that was clearly very, very hard to break. “And this.” She kicked the cube with her heel now, causing it to glow a bright blue. Golden chains wrapped around it, clearly a magical security measure to keep the thing shut. They disappeared in an instant. “Represents resilience. You’ll have them, but so will our enemies. You’ll need to outmatch them with both to survive the war. And your prize?” She gestured to the tiny shard inside. “Is that. One tiny Grace shard, enough to power up any form of sorcery for a single second. Not enough to win anything, but if used right maybe enough to get you out of a scrape.”

The silence that fell upon the assembled troops was palpable. Already Charlie could practically hear the gears turning in their heads. One single second was often not enough to do much with any sort of sorcery, but a guaranteed trump card? Now that's something only the dumbest of sorcerers would scoff at. Angel grinned and rubbed four of his hands together as he stepped forward to face the box.

“Oh man, the number of holes I’m gonna Shift with this thing is gonna be legendary,” he said as he faced the box. “So all I gotta do is open the thing and get it out? Then I get to have that Grace shard? No bullshit?”

A strange, knowing flash behind that dark eye. A tiny smirk. “No bullshit.”

“Well in that case-” six arms popped out, the tall recruit grinning as he grabbed for the box. The chain reappeared immediately. “Come to Papa, little Grace!”

The moment one of those hands grabbed onto the chain, a golden magic sparked to life. Without missing a second, the chain burst into bright blue flames, causing the Shift sorcerer to yelp as he flinched away from the box, rubbing the burn mark on his palm. Almost as soon as they appeared, the flames disappeared, leaving the box just as innocent looking as it was before. The golden chains flickered away.

“Are you fuckin’ nuts!?” Angel shouted, glaring at the captain with heterochromatic eyes. “Celestial fire!? That can incinerate any of us if we touch it for too long!”

The captain gave him a dark, tight smile. “I know. So did all the soldiers who came before you.” She turned around and addressed the group now. “Angels will strike without hesitation or mercy. They’ll use anything in their power to end your fucking existence. Wanna know what the current top theory for this invasion is? Faustus has the highest concentration of magical energy on the fucking continent if not the world. Angels have a history and a bad habit of taking what they want. They already conquered the Empire of Man centuries ago and siphoned off their magic. Guess who’s next? Yeah, us.” She cast a stern glare at them. “So that’s why we’re fighting. We’re gonna kick their asses and send them straight back home.”

A chorus of agreeing shouts sounded from the assembled recruits. Charlie let out a tiny one of her own, grinning as she looked around at the bright, eager faces of the troops. This was it. They were going to train and become the best army ever. They were going to repel the Angels and save her people. It was perfect.

But first, the box.

Husk was the next person to step up. He tried to toss a handful of dice at the box, using his Gambit sorcery to imbue them with explosive potential. As soon as the dice touched the cube, however, they bounced off, sending the little cubes flying towards Husk’s face. He barely managed to duck in time to avoid them, face twisting in dismay as they exploded a nearby crate of wine bottles. The look on his face as the glass shattered and spilled over the ground was one of absolute mourning.

Pentious went next. He tried to use the Egg Bois to open the box, but most of them ended up getting fried from bumping into the celestial chains. Those that didn’t were crushed under the weight of their brethren as they tried to pry the top of the box open. Eventually, watching the deaths of tens of rather dim-witted eggs was too much even for the captain and she sent Pentious away. 

One by one, each of the recruits tried to open the box, only to be burned by fire, have their attacks reflected, or have their hands crushed when they tried to pry it. The cube was quite heavy too - too heavy to just pick up and smash on the ground even by the strongest recruit. With each failure, Charlie watched as Vaggie’s expression grew more and more exasperated. Eventually, after Charlie herself walked past her cradling a throbbing red hand with silvery tears pouring down her cheeks, Vaggie sighed and rolled her eyes up to the sky. 

“Looks like we have a long way to go,” she muttered before grabbing a set of wooden spears next to her and tossing it to the group. “Form up! Let's get down to business!”

It took several days for the small group of recruits to get into the swing of things. Well, okay, maybe more than a few days. The sheer amount of times Vaggie had made them remake their beds or redo some sort of exercise or just run around in circles until she got tired was enough to throw anyone off. Add to this the weird mystery food, the cold showers, and the fact that her next door tent neighbor wouldn’t stop snoring? Yeah, it was no wonder her kingdom’s soldiers were always so disciplined. If they weren’t, it would be total chaos!

That was not to say, of course, that things were a total disaster. Slowly but surely, Charlie could sense that things were getting better. For example, the other day, Pentious managed to actually make a teeny tiny, almost invisible dent in his cinder block! Sure, he had given himself a concussion. And sure, he had fallen backwards and accidentally smashed a bunch of Egg Bois under his weight. But still, that was progress, right? Better than nothing.

“Rise and shine, King Consort’s Guard o’mine!” Niffty trilled, buzzing in her ear yet again. This time, Charlie was up and on her feet before Alastor could so much as release a tentacle. 

“Master Soldier Charlie reporting for duty, ma’am!” Charlie said, sharing a giggle with her daemon. Then, Niffty straightened her back and put on her best Captain Vaggie imitation.

“Master Soldier! What are your duties today?”

“Keep my shoes tied! Keep my chin up! Kill all the roaches! And most importantly, do my duty to my people! Ma’am!”

“What else, Master Soldier!?”

“Help my comrades! Follow my orders! Protect my home and family!”

“And what will happen if you fail in your duty, Master Soldier!?”

“I…” her words caught in her throat. Doubt and uncertainty weighed heavily on her shoulders. Niffty looked up at her, the daemon’s expression quickly morphing from mischief to concern.

“Princess-”

“I… would have dishonored my whole family,” Charlie said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She offered her daemon a weak smile. “A-And failed my people.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. We were getting really into it, weren’t we? Heh, just a game. I shouldn’t think of things so personally o-or whatever.” She waved her hand. “It’s fine, Niffty. Thanks. Mornings are always the best with you.”

Niffty’s bottom lip trembled slightly, then she let out a small sigh. “I-”

“Should get going before you two are late,” Alastor said from where he was buried rather comfortably in a mass of blankets he had stolen from around camp. “You don’t want yet another mark against you, do you?”

Charlie bit her lip. “N-No. I don’t.”

The unspoken possibility of failure, of getting sent home in disgrace hung heavy in the air as she changed. The heavy weight on her shoulders only grew heavier as she exited the tent and walked over to the foot of Beatrice’s Peak. As much as her comrades had been making tiny improvements throughout the preceding days, it seemed as though Charlie just kept falling behind. She couldn’t draw a bow, couldn’t hold her own in a sparring match, and don’t even think about asking her how far she could run. Her speed, dexterity, and strength were all essentially nonexistent. Her natural clumsiness didn’t help any of that. The only thing she seemed to excel at were the tactics-related exercises, but that would hardly help her once she actually hit the battlefield.

Captain Vaggie and the rest of the troops were already assembled by the time she got there. There was no breakfast today - apparently, some sort of red animal had snuck in and set fire to most of their food stores. It slipped away before anyone could catch it. It would take about 24 hours to get more food supplies, so in the meantime, the captain just decided to turn this into a learning opportunity; you might never have time to eat in the middle of marching, after all.

Today, Vaggie was once again wearing a skin-tight jumper that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. There was just something so distracting about the way the outfit hugged her curves, the way she effortlessly commanded attention with her confident demeanor and toned physique. Charlie mentally cursed herself for just… staring at those well-accentuated arms and her abs. Her goddamn beautifully formed abs. God, why did the outfit have to be so distracting? This had to be some sort of additional test on top of everything else.

“Alright, buttercups! Line up and grab your bags,” Vaggie said as she easily slipped a long stick with two bags full of grain tied on either side of it onto her shoulders. A few of the recruits grumbled as they did the same. “We’re heading up Beatrice’s Peak today carrying these. Anyone who doesn't keep up will be left behind.” Her single eye slid over to Charlie, the dip between her brows knitting as she regarded the golden-haired recruit. “Any questions?”

“No ma’am!” the soldiers said in unison as they all hoisted their bags on their shoulders. Then, at her command, they started up the mountain at a brisk pace. Charlie barely had time to adjust to the new weights on her own shoulders before she too followed the group up.

She gritted her teeth and hoisted the heavy bags of grain onto her shoulders, the weight pressing down on her. With each step, her muscles strained against the resistance, the enormous effort evident in the beads of sweat that trickled down her brow. The group continued to forge ahead, but she was struggling to keep pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she labored to maintain her footing on the steep mountain path. With every step she took, the grain seemed to grow heavier and heavier, dragging her down like an anchor threatening to pull her under.

She was falling behind. She was falling behind despite throwing everything she had at this training exercise. The gap between her and the rest of the group widened with every faltering step. Her legs burned. Her shoulders ached. Her vision blurred. She… She had to keep going! She had to do her duty to her people…!

The mountain path stretched endlessly before her. Her steps grew slower and more labored with each passing moment. Her muscles screamed at her to stop, begged her for rest. She wasn’t going to fail. She refused to fail-

Her chest and cheek met the ground before she knew what was happening. The grain slammed into the ground in front of her and rolled away. There was a chorus of noise from somewhere far in front of her. At least some of it was laced with concern. Charlie groaned, porcelain fingers reaching desperately for the rod. This was fine! She could still get up! Still keep going! Still honor her family!

A shadow passed over her, giving her slight relief from the burning sun. She looked blearily up at it, making out a slim, yet muscular form and long silver hair pulled into a high ponytail. The figure knelt and set aside their bags of grain before pulling out a leather water bottle and pressing it to her lips. The cool, refreshing taste of water gently touched her parched tongue. Letting out a tiny groan, she drank small gulps, sipping until she had her fill. Once she was done, the figure offered a hand to her, which she took. Red eyes widened as the gentle yet strong grip pulled her to her feet.

Captain Vaggie bent down and picked up her grain, placing it on top of the grain sacks already on her shoulders. She paused for a moment to turn around and bark orders at the other recruits to keep moving. Then, she turned back to face Charlie.

“What are you waiting for, Magne? C’mon, you’re with me for this exercise.”

Despite now having double the weight on her shoulders, Vaggie didn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, she seemed to be even more energized, single eye fixed on the path before her. There was something magnetic about the look of determination on her face, about the way sweat beaded on her forehead as she expertly controlled her breathing on their way up. Charlie really, really had to try her best not to stare, but how was she going to do that when Vaggie’s silver hair was just so nice to look at in the light of the sun above?

“Something on my face, Magne?” Vaggie asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Charlie felt her face warm as she forced her gaze to the path in front of them. “No ma’am. Just… wondering things.”

A grunt. “Like what?”

How one woman could be so strong. How a bodysuit could look so good on someone. How she could just be so magnetic and nice to look at.

“How… How you became captain,” she coughed. “I-I mean, you’re… really young. Like, you’re my age. Most captains are… older.”

Vaggie let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess you can say that. Lots of old people in the higher ranks here. A ton of them looked down at me like I’m some sort of baby.” She rolled her eyes. “They know that I was raised by Zestiel and Carmilla. They also know that my grades over at the academy were good, even if they’re probably thinking I only got them because of the family I came from. So…” she shrugged. “I just needed to prove them wrong. Over and over again. I outmaneuvered a bunch of them in practice drills even at the academy.” She smirked. “It took a while, but then they never questioned my stuff again.”

Charlie let out a low whistle. “Wow! No wonder you’re here now. The generals must really trust you!”

“I doubt it. They’re my parents. Well, adoptive parents. They pretty much raised me from birth. They know everything about me - all my flaws, all my strengths… and they decided that I wasn’t ready for battle, so they put me in charge here until they call me for backup or something,” she sighed. “I guess… even with all the stuff I’ve done, I’m still not good enough to lead a charge in my first war.”

Charlie allowed a small smile to cross her face. “Well, I think maybe there was something else in there too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… right now, you’re far away from all the skirmishes, right? Your parents and I heard your sisters too are out on the front lines, but… you’re here training us,” she hummed. “I think it isn’t because they don’t trust you. I think it’s because they wanna protect you. I mean, you’re their baby girl, right? And this is your first leadership role. They probably wanna make sure that you can still contribute to the cause yet at the same time live through your first war. And if they do need you? Then you’ll be ready with an amazing battalion of troops.”

A pause. “... You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

Her face grew warm. “Heh, maybe a little? My dad… Well, he didn’t want me to fight either.” She shrugged. “I shouldn’t be here, but I came anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because… I need to motivate the recruits to fight to protect their kingdom. If they see me fighting as hard as I can, then maybe they’ll want to fight for peace too. It's my duty.”

A companionable silence fell between them as they walked, the two of them clearly digesting the conversation they had just exchanged. Charlie watched out of the corner of her eye as Vaggie adjusted the weights on her shoulders, then looked over at her. The Princess of Faustus quickly looked away. God, she really, really needed to stop this whole staring thing.

“So… you said your dad doesn’t want you to fight,” Vaggie said, breaking the silence. “But you’re the King Consort’s Guard? How does that work?”

“O-Oh! Well, I mean, I train. A lot. Every day, in a manly way,” Charlie stammered. She ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip nervously. How many more lies could she spin before the web became too much? “B-But you know how well-protected the palace is. And since the King Consort is a secret person, they don’t exactly get targeted a lot. So I don’t get a lot of real-world practice.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re here for real-world practice?”

Charlie laughed. “Kinda! I’m here to fulfill my duty.”

“Right… you said that,” Vaggie said. “But what else?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… you’re really just here because it’s your duty? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What about what you want? I’m not asking the King Consort’s Guard. I’m asking Charlie Magne. What does he want out of this? Aside from wanting to fulfill his duty? Personal glory? Thrills?”

Charlie shook her head. “I’m not much of a thrills kinda guy. And personal glory? I mean… there are other, better ways to get that.”

“So then why fight out here in the dirt when you can just do your easy guard job for the rest of your life?”

“I…” she hesitated. She hadn’t really been asked that before. Her answers to herself had always been so simple: to do her duty to her people and protect their king, his daemon, and them. To motivate this rag-tag group of volunteers and conscriptions alike to fight for their homes and families. To ensure that Faustus was ushered into a peaceful golden age. Those… were the duties of the Crown Princess. Those were Charlotte’s duties.

“We’re falling behind,” Vaggie said, breaking into a jog. Charlie paused for a moment, watching that beautiful silver hair flare out behind her like a cape. Then, she shook her head and broke into a jog as well. She would ponder those questions later.

It had been exactly 17 days, 9 hours, and 27 minutes since Alastor had seen or heard from his king. Not that he was specifically keeping track for any particular reason, of course; he just wanted to make sure that he had a number to gloat over once the princess’ optimism and eagerness gave into despair. She was quite close now, even without him interfering. All she needed was one last little push and then she would find herself careening off the cliff of optimism into the churning waters of devastation. It was a delicious thought.

Training had been going very, very poorly for Captain Vaggie and her little mismatched band of recruits. Alastor barely even had to lift a finger to cause chaos - these little miscreants all seemed quite capable of making fools of themselves without his help. Whether it was a distinct inability to aim at any moving target or a rather pathetic lack of insight on why it was a bad idea to pause while running through a field of flying flaming arrows, it was all too obvious that this motley crew was truly the bottom of a steaming pile of dung. On top of that, they were a conscripted steaming pile of dung; that just meant that the motivation to improve wasn’t there at all.

That didn’t mean, of course, he was taking a passive role in all of this. Oh no, quite the opposite - he was relishing the fact he had essentially been given a free pass to entertain himself as much as possible. Stealing Husk’s silver flask had been trivial for someone as powerful as him. Dumping it all over the food stores was a true joy. And then setting said food stores on fire while he sat in front of it in cat form and watched the flames dance across the night sky? Giving every soul in this camp a reminder that this world was Hell and all that awaited them in the world beyond was the horrible burning pit of the inferno? Magical. 

As far as the princess went, her pathetic weakness wasn’t for lack of trying; in fact, in terms of effort alone, Alastor actually gave her full marks. But when it came to actually fulfilling any of the exercises, the delicate little thing always fell very, very short. Her pathetic attempts to not rely on Manifestation meant that she had lost her biggest trump card. In the end, she was only hurting the army further, whether it was nearly killing them with misaimed arrows or falling miles and miles behind on any sort of running or strength training exercise. At one point, she had tripped and fallen so far behind that the captain actually had to take her heavy bags of grain off her and carry it the rest of the way up the mountain they were training at. Too much time in the ivory tower and not enough in the rough and tumble, it seemed. The look of desperation, of failure, of complete and utter hopelessness on Charlie’s face was delicious. Alastor had almost wanted to make a scrapbook out of it so he could look at it later.

He was watching her and her little friends now from the top of a tree. They were practicing hand-to-hand combat and were failing quite spectacularly, if Alastor was any judge of that. The spectacle featured just a little bit of everything, from Pentious trying to get his silly little living eggs to battle for him to Husk trying to charge at Angel only to be met by a six-armed slap. Said Shift sorcerer would then somehow end up on the ground, the momentum from his slapping too much for those thin legs to handle. Not to mention, there were just so many other soldiers that kept utterly failing in landing punches on each other - quite a few of them tripped on air and landed straight on their bottoms.

The cat laid on his stomach and kicked his legs in the air, watching with a large smirk on his face as the princess tried her absolute best to look fierce and intimidating against the captain. Should he tell her later that puffing out her cheeks like a little chipmunk was the opposite of intimidating? Or perhaps he should let her know that doing dramatic sweeps with her legs was at best just going to get them chopped off? Oh wait, the captain was doing that instead. Well, at least someone here was doing something practical.

They were back to sparring now, Charlie clearly showing vast improvement now that she wasn’t trying to be flashy. Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he took in her lightning quick, precise strikes. She was getting better and better every time she was corrected - a neat little trait that both Morningstars seemed to have. Oh, but he couldn’t have this. He needed to get her home safely, after all. And sabotage was just so much more fun than encouraging this silly behavior. What was more, going down the sabotage route meant that Lucifer would break his Seals sooner. After that? Well, all of Faustus would know to fear the name of the Radio Daemon even more so once he stepped out from the shadow of the king’s heart.

Once again, his thoughts turned to the King of Faustus, a shot of irritation going through him. Lucifer had been taking up more and more of his mind lately, their absence from each other somehow forcing his image into Alastor’s mind during every lull in activity, every quiet moment away from the hustle and bustle of the military camp. What right did he - with that gold-spun hair, those mischievous red eyes, that perfect alabaster skin - have that he could just invade the Radio Daemon’s thoughts like this? Was it some other Morningstar bloodline ability that even Alastor was somehow not privy to? Or maybe he had poisoned Alastor’s coffee at some point and the Radio Daemon was now feeling its effects? It wouldn’t be the first time the King of Faustus played a prank on him.

All of this irritation was making him antsy. He shifted his position so that he now sat up, balancing precariously on the branch with all four padded feet. No matter how hard he tried to redirect his thoughts, they always went back to Lucifer. Lucifer grinning maniacally as they sparred together. Lucifer’s brows knitting together while trying to Manifest yet another rubber duck for his collection. Lucifer weeping with rivulets of blood trailing down one side of his face as he held Alastor’s hand and swore his life, power, and soul to the Radio Daemon in exchange for a sliver of Alastor’s own. Lucifer sleeping. Lucifer laughing. Lucifer blushing. Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer.

He needed to do something about this. These thoughts were traveling towards territory that neither Alastor nor his king had even vaguely ventured towards in all their decades together. All he needed was a distraction… and ensuring the sparring princess never made it close to impressing her captain was a rather convenient one.

With an almost casual flex of his power, he summoned a thin tendril from Charlie’s shadow. Unaware of the tiny obstacle in her path, the princess’ foot caught on it, causing her to stumble mid-strike and lose her balance. She began falling backwards and - interestingly enough - Captain Vaggie actually jumped forward and caught the falling recruit in her arms. For a few moments, they simply stared at each other, faces flushed and panting. Then, a look of irritation flashed across the captain’s face. She stood Charlie upright again and walked away, red coloring her features. 

Well now things were getting more interesting.

Before Alastor could so much as think about using another tendril to sabotage Charlie’s attempts at hand-to-hand combat again, a spray of water on his face snapped him from his thoughts. Letting out a low hiss, he arched his back and glared in the direction of the water, coming face to eye with Niffty. The princess’ daemon sneered as she sent a few more sprays Alastor’s way. With a small growl, shadowy tendrils emerged from his feline back and rushed towards her. The jewel beetle daemon smirked while she easily batting the tendrils away with a large needle. He let out another hiss as he backed up on the tree branch, fur still standing on end.

“Now just what was that stunt for, Niffty dear?” he asked, red eyes wide, smile wild, radio frequency searching wildly.

Niffty smiled at him. “You’re being one bad kitty, Alastor.” Another few sprays. “A really bad kitty.”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” he asked, using one of his tendrils to snatch the spray bottle out of her hands. He threw it at the soldiers, taking extra care to make sure that it landed on one of their heads. This caused the man to swing, miss, and turn himself around so much he landed on his face. Good. “Is it a crime to watch over our princess’ sparring match from afar?”

Niffty put her small hands on her hips, her smile sliding off. “No, but it is a crime to get in her way! And don’t even try lying about it. I saw your little tentacle thing trip her just now!” She narrowed her eye. “You probably’ve been doing that for a while now, huh? Bad, bad kitty.”

“Hardly, my dear,” Alastor said calmly, eyes narrowing when Niffty somehow managed to pull a second spray bottle of water out of her apron and began spraying him again with gusto. This time, he made sure to crush the thing in one of his tendrils. “I’ve only done that… mm… maybe six times. The Princess’ failings are almost completely her own, I’m afraid.”

“Well you’re not helping her!” Niffty almost growled, fire lighting up behind her one-eyed gaze. Alastor was actually somewhat impressed - it was very, very, very rare for Niffty not to be giggling or doing something strange. “Charlie came here so you and her dad wouldn’t get hurt. But now you’re just trying to hurt her.”

“And I’m just tickled pink that Her Highness cares about me so much,” Alastor said, sarcasm dripping from every word. The static was spiking and popping around him, rapidly switching back and forth from a wild crescendo to a low and dangerous buzz. “But I made a little itsy-bitsy promise to her father, you see. And I intend to keep it. The sooner our dear princess utterly fails at becoming a soldier, the sooner we can all go home.”

A beat of silence. An odd little sequence of expressions flashed across Niffty’s face. First, confusion. Then, shocked realization. And finally? A wide, wide, wide smile. A smile wide enough to rival Alastor’s own. The daemon paused for a moment and contemplated the distinct possibility that he really would have to make good on his promise to rip Niffty’s limbs off if she tried to attack him. Thankfully, the little jewel beetle seemed much more content to just rub her tiny little hands together and giggle. 

“Oh… I get it now,” her grin widened even more. “The kitty misses his master!”

The static went silent. Alastor narrowed his eyes further, tail standing on end. “He is not my master.”

Niffty let out a low, mischievous little giggle. “Of course not… unless you’re in the bedroom with him!”

“Niffty…” there were even more tendrils coming out of him now. He felt his entire body growing warm, especially his face. “You have exactly three seconds to drop the subject and get out of my sight.”

The jewel beetle daemon stuck out her tongue. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone… but only if you stop trying to make Charlie mess up. Otherwise…” The fire was back behind that large eye, another large and sharp needle appearing in her hand. “I’m gonna make sure the cute little kitty doesn’t poop ever again!” Then, with a cheerful little wave, she turned into her jewel beetle form and flew towards the princess, who was now sparring with a bunch of Egg Bois all stacked on top of each other.

Later that night, Alastor padded around the camp in cat form, making sure to stick to the shadows so no one would think it strange that a bright red cat with wild eyes was just walking around. As per usual, the sentries were slacking off. How exactly did anyone, let alone their dear, long-suffering captain expect any of these fools to become proper soldiers? A majority of them were conscripted, after all. Anything short of the fear of death itself wouldn’t motivate them to do anything.

Still, if there was one useful thing about having slacking sentries, it was the fact that the Radio Daemon could take advantage of their negligence to go about his own business. He slinked through the camp, red eyes scanning the area to make sure that no one was watching too closely. After the little incident where he set the food supply on fire, the captain had told everyone to keep an eye out for a “weird-looking little red thing.” Alastor frankly found that quite offensive - he was hardly any more weird looking than any other creature in Faustus, even as a cat.

Speaking of weird, there were certainly weird noises coming from one particular tent. Alastor’s ear twitched as he listened carefully, only to immediately regret it. There was the sound of clothes being ripped off. Groans and pants. An excessive amount of sucking noises as well. Disgusting. Didn’t these idiots know there were daemons wandering about? That their neighbors were likely trying to sleep? That from the noises they were making, they were being absolutely sloppy?

Well, he could pause his quest to find a radio just for now. Just so he and his king wouldn’t have to listen to these noises when they had their first talk in 17 days, 19 hours, and 5 minutes. They were revolting and he had to have quite the serious talk with Lucifer. Bracing himself for the absolute worse, Alastor walked forward and poked his head inside the flap of the tent.

The sight that met him was… well, disgusting. Charlie’s tall friend - Anthony? Antonio? Angleterre? - was sitting on his stocky little Gambit sorcerer companion’s lap. Six arms were out and flailing all over the other man’s body, grabbing, tugging, and pulling as though he would never touch anything ever again. The Gambit sorcerer, meanwhile, had his eyes closed and mouth quite busy licking, biting, and sucking on the taller’s collarbones. He sat with his back to Alastor, clearly extremely caught up in whatever moment he was trying to have. The groans and moans falling from their lips were absolutely sinful. They… made him wonder what they would sound like if the voices were just a little bit different. More of a tenor than-

Oh, Allen was looking at him. “What the fuck is that!?”

“Mm?” the Gambit sorcerer stopped sucking on his companion’s collarbones and looked up. “This? I know you know it’s my di-”

“No, not that! That!” he used one arm to point directly at Alastor, who continued to stare unblinkingly at the two. “What the fuck, is that a fucking cat!?”

Now his stocky companion was looking over his shoulder, his face slowly morphing from confused to absolute horror. “That… I… Think?” He squinted at Alastor, who decided at that moment that he didn’t like being squinted at by this man. He really didn’t like it. “That is one weird fucking stray cat.”

“Weird!? It looks like Grandma, the fucking thing!”

Said “weird fucking stray cat” decided enough was enough. He was going to make sure that these two didn’t make their revolting noises anywhere near a radio ever again. His grin widened even more as the gentle buzz of static quickly morphed into a chaotic storm. He stood up taller… and taller and taller and taller. Two sets of eyes grew wide as his neck grew until it brushed the top of the tent, twisting and deforming in a grossly abnormal fashion. Then, it struck with the speed of a viper, sharp yellow teeth opening wide and quickly chomping down on the Gambit sorcerer’s right arm, tearing a loud shriek from his throat.

“OH MY GOD ITS NECK FUCKING BROKE!”

“IT FUCKING BIT ME!”

They were being awfully loud. The commotion would no doubt bring plenty of people running towards them. Alastor smirked as he retracted his neck, then turned tail and ran from the area, easily slipping into the shadow of some nearby crates. He watched with glee as the sentries that were supposed to be guarding the captain’s quarters - plus the captain herself - ran towards the screaming duo. Surely the captain’s tent had a radio for him to access? Well, there was only one way to find out.

The piece in her tent was a beautiful thing, made of polished mahogany that gleamed softly in the moonlight. Intricate carvings adorned its edges, vines and flowers intertwining with delicate precision, while brass accents added a touch of old-world elegance. As Alastor approached, he paused for a moment to admire it, then shook his head. It had been 17 days, 19 hours, and 26 minutes since he had seen Lucifer - he needed to see him now.

After carefully turning on the radio, he passed through the radio as easily as he passed through air. His entire body dissolved into tiny particles that danced along a strange little wave. This wave was connected to every radio all over the continent; this was where Alastor’s true power lay. As long as there was a radio playing somewhere, he could reach it. For a brief moment, he paused and listened, searching the pulsing energy around him for a path that led directly to the palace. When a gentle jazzy lullaby reached his ears, he immediately turned towards it. Lucifer listened to slow jazz whenever he couldn’t sleep at night. This had to be him.

The Radio Daemon materialized in the king’s bedroom, nearly landing on top of a pile of rubber ducks as he did so. This was new. Actually, there were at least six new piles around the room. The usually neat bedroom was now a chaotic mess of rubber duck piles, maps of Faustus, and apple cores. He wrinkled his nose as he released a few tendrils to pick them up. Honestly, the King of Faustus - for all his power and airs - was such a child. A whiny, petulant, sloppy child. He could hardly stand it. 

Once he made sure that all the stray apple cores had been burnt away, Alastor looked around, and frowned. Where was the King of Faustus? Was he hurt? Should Alastor-

A pair of warm, slim arms wrapped around him from behind. Alastor froze, a tendril immediately erupting from the ground and yanking the offender off him. When he whirled with another tendril ready to tear the other’s head off, he froze. Lucifer Morningstar, King of Faustus, stared back at him with extremely dark circles under his ruby-colored eyes. His normally perfectly coiffed hair was a mess. He wore duck pajamas that looked like they had been worn for at least three days. He had lost weight.

Alastor dropped him immediately, tendrils disappearing. Instead, he summoned his radio cane and rested his hands on its head. “Sire. I do believe we’ve established that unless you intend on stabbing me, attacking from behind is off limits.”

“Al,” Lucifer breathed, looking up at him from the floor. One of his eyes twitched. He was… jittery. “Al. Oh thank God, I-” he let out a small, hysterical laugh. “I-I… Fuck. How long has it been? 17 days, 19 hours, and 37 minutes? Fuck. It’s been so long-”

Alastor’s eyes slid over to the new rubber duck piles, then back to his king. Lucifer was now standing, eyes darting nervously between him, the duck piles, and the map and markers currently laid out on the nearby work table. “It has. I see that you’ve been keeping busy with the war effort.” A pause. “Will the terrifying Morningstar rubber duck army be joining us anytime soon?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Lucifer snapped, running one hand through his hair. “It’s been- I’ve been… fuck. Do you have any idea how busy it gets around here during wartime? Of course you have, you were literally there during the last one. Well, I mean, just look!” he waved his hand in the direction of the map. “Those fucking Angels are just… fuck. They’re everywhere. Carmilla and Zestiel have been in like a million skirmishes and no matter how many they kill, they just keep coming.”

Alastor hummed. “I do recall that Angels have a terrible habit of procreating excessively… and forcing those they conquer to fight their battles for them.” He paused. “Perhaps if the Crown Princess were still here, we could potentially offer her hand in exchange for an alliance.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Lucifer asked, clutching his chest and letting out a low wheeze. “You know that they won’t treat her well. They’ll just… hook her up to some sort of weird ass machine and drain her powers or drink her blood or something. I dunno. Didn’t you hear? Angels don’t do mercy, which is fucking ironic.”

Alastor only smiled at that, one hand gesturing to his left side. Almost immediately, Lucifer’s shoulders slumped as those red eyes flickered over to where they both knew the wound was. After a few beats of silence, the King of Faustus let out a sigh. The palpable anxiety that had been writhing around his soul like a storm settled somewhat into a low simmer.

“How’s Charlotte? Is… Is she coming home soon?”

“I do believe so, sire,” Alastor said. Long claws tapped the head of his radio cane. “She has made very little progress compared to her compatriots. That combined with the captain’s obvious bleeding heart should mean she will be deemed unfit for battle and sent home to protect her life quite soon.”

Lucifer let out an exhale. The anxious simmer calmed into a quiet bubbling. “Good… Okay. Good. Good job.” He swallowed and ran another hand through his hair. “Once you guys are back, I’ll… I’ll finally be able to sleep.”

A beat of silence. Alastor tilted his head, observing the dark circles under his king’s eyes. He wasn’t quite sure why, but his chest felt… odd. Like the tug in his soul that had been bothering him the moment he stepped foot off the palace grounds had grown stronger. This was followed by a strange little throb of pain from his wound, a quiet reminder that it had been quite long since he last drew healing energy from Lucifer’s celestial core.

“Your Majesty… when was the last time you slept?”

Lucifer blinked. “... The… the night you left.”

Oh.

Alastor ran one hand through his hair. “I did not realize that your child-like height also came with child-like insomnia. Do you need me to warm up some milk and read you a bedtime story?”

“Okay, fuck you. You try sleeping after you get used to having a literal other being wrapped around your soul every night who just… up and leaves one night without warning.”

“You sent me away.”

“... Touche. But you get my point. I’m not used to sleeping with… with only one soul.”

A pause. “I will admit, sleeping outside after all of these decades is rather strange.”

“You’ve been sleeping?”

“Of course not.”

Another pause. “... We need to rest.”

“We do.”

“So… let’s rest.”

He didn’t need any further discussion. Alastor closed his eyes, allowing his entire body to relax as his form faded into shadow, as his soul searched for the glowing golden light of Lucifer’s magical core. He didn’t need to search very long - by now, he knew the path to it by heart, so much so that even if he were unconscious, he was certain he would still find his way there. The moment he found it, he curled around it as he always had every single night of the many decades they had spent together. It was a warm, welcoming little core, sparking with the sort of power that only Lucifer Morningstar - most powerful of his bloodline - could wield.

It felt like coming home.

“Alastor…” Lucifer’s voice sounded both far away and very close at the same time. It was a warm, familiar feeling. From the vague movements at the edges of his perception, his king had climbed into bed. “Am… Am I being a good dad?”

What a horribly broad and complex question. His king had to be more specific if he expected an answer. Alastor sent that much back to him, watching the king’s soul tremble a bit as he pondered the Radio Daemon’s thoughts.

“I mean… I’m supposed to love and adore her more than anything, right? So I’m trying to protect her. But like… at the same time, she’s gonna be queen one day. She’ll need to make her own choices without our help. A-And if she’s gonna do that, then she needs to know more about the world outside the palace… and she’ll also need to know what kind of consequences her choices can have.”

Well, that was a clear and logical thought process, as much of a mess as the King of Faustus’ thoughts were. Alastor allowed his soul to pulse back some agreement before curling a bit closer around the warm, gentle core of his king. Already he could feel the both of them feeling… drifty. Like they were both slowly losing their grip on the world around them.

“I’m… I’m forcing her to come home, aren’t I?” Lucifer asked. “I’m taking away her ability to make her own choices. But… she’s still so young. She’s a princess. She can’t just… run off and do whatever she wants. She’s got duties to fulfill. A kingdom to help run.”

Well, there was no denying that. The Radio Daemon let him know that much. He received a tight, vice-like clamp of his soul in response. Lucifer was lucky that he didn’t have a wound when in this form. With each slow, steady breath, Alastor felt the weight of exhaustion begin to lift, replaced by a quiet calm that settled over his weary spirit. From what he could tell, Lucifer was experiencing the same. A gentle darkness danced at the edge of his perception. He reached out and laid one claw over Lucifer’s heart. 

“Fuck, I-” Lucifer swallowed. His soul pulsed for a brief moment, then shuddered. It was crying. Lucifer was crying. “I miss her so much. Her and Niffty and Dazzle and-”

Alastor allowed just a small touch of his own power to leak out. Just enough to wash over the worrying sorcerer like a lullaby. He felt his king’s consciousness fade in an instant, a dreamless sleep descending upon them like a gentle blanket. Alastor soon found himself drifting off as well, surrendering to the exhaustion of his own body and the darkness at the edges of his soul. For the first time in 17 days, 21 hours, and 27 minutes, he allowed himself to sleep, Lucifer’s glowing core pulsing at the center of his very soul.

She was playing poker with Husk, Angel, and Pentious when Vaggie came in and asked her to step outside. Charlie went gratefully, knowing that if she kept playing, she was going to lose. How was Husk just able to keep drawing royal flushes just like that? It had to be some sort of hidden aspect of his Gambit sorcery. Or maybe he was just cheating? No… Husk wasn’t a cheater, was he?

Vaggie stood before her just outside the tent, her expression grave. The flickering light from a nearby campfire cast shadows across her face, emphasizing the lines of concern etched into her features. Charlie stopped in front of her and smiled, trying her best to quell the concerned tug in her heart. Dimly, she could make out Niffty’s shadow skittering nervously across it.

“What do ya need me for, Captain?” she asked, voice pitched and cheery. Vaggie’s single eye glanced up at her, uncertainty flashing across her features. “Need me to clean the dishes again? Sort the grain? Maybe be on ‘weird red cat’ duty?”

“Charlie…” her voice was tinged with regret. She moved her hands behind her back, biting her bottom lip. “I… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’ve… Well, I’ve decided something really, really hard.”

Charlie’s heart sank as she met her captain’s gaze, sensing the gravity of her words. Niffty stilled for a moment and pressed a question into her mind: did she need a distraction? Did she want to run to her tent? Charlie inwardly shook her head as she answered. "What is it, Captain?”

Vaggie hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Charlie’s. “When… When you’re put in charge like this, you sorta come to realize a few things. And you gotta make a lot of hard decisions. Living like this, battling in war… it’s not suited for everyone. It’s a harsh, unforgiving world out there. It’s the kind of place that’ll eat you alive if you aren’t ready.”

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat, a wave of disappointment washing over her. This couldn’t be it, right? She… She still had so much to do. “What… What do you mean?”

Vaggie let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I really am. I know you came here out of a sense of duty. I know you’re probably gonna feel like a failure, but-” she swallowed. “You’re unsuited for the rage of war. If I send you out there, you’re… you’re just gonna die. You’re behind everyone else in everything and… well, yeah. You’ll die if I send you into direct combat. I can’t- I don’t want that to happen. Not when you have so much else to live for.”

She had feared this moment would come, but it still stung to hear the words spoken aloud. Charlie’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she struggled to find the words to respond. “B-But-”

“I’m not sending you out in disgrace or anything,” Vaggie continued. “And I promise, if anyone asks, I’ll tell them about how you did fulfill your duty here. You… motivated the troops to feel better. Did your duty to the Royal Family, then went home to protect the King's Consort because that was your most important duty. You’ll be welcomed back as a hero.”

No.

“I… I can’t go home.” Not like this.

Vaggie shook her head. “And I can’t let you die out there just because you think it’s your job as part of the Royal Guard or whatever. A lot of these numbskulls didn’t have a choice to be here, you know? Most of ‘em got conscripted. The ones who volunteered… Well, it’s their choice. They chose freely. But you? I mean, if all you’re doing is seeing this as your duty, then you’re not really here by choice, right? You’re here because someone gave you some sort of arbitrary order or set of values or something. And based on that armor, someone in the Royal Family cares about you a ton. I’m sure they’ll want you to come home and continue protecting them.”

She wanted to scream. To cry. To throw herself at the captain’s feet and beg for another chance. If she went home now, she would have failed. She would have failed to… ugh. She didn’t know. She just knew that this wasn’t an option for her. That if she went home now, she would feel nothing but burning shame for the rest of her life. She wanted to say all of that, but everything died in her throat. She only watched numbly as Vaggie turned around, shoulders slumped and trembling.

“Charlie… please. Pack up. Go home. You’re through,” then, she walked away. Charlie stared after her with a heavy heart, a cold, invisible vice squeezing her chest. This really was it, wasn’t it? She pressed one hand to her chest as she felt her daemon fluttering around her soul. Niffty was… apologizing? For what? This wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault. This was all Charlie. Charlotte. Whether a man or a woman, she was a failure.

She broke the news to the trio of comrades she had come to call her friends first. Their reactions were… horrible. Angel tried to get up and go speak to Vaggie, only to have to be held down by Pentious. Speaking of Pentious, all of his Egg Bois burst into tears at her announcement. Husk, for his part, simply sighed and packed up his deck of cards. Once he was done, he turned and handed it to her.

“To make up for our first meeting,” he said, placing it in her hand and folding her fingers over them. “We’ll… find a way to play again after the war. Promise.”

Charlie left the group that night after many hugs and tears. She had even kissed the Egg Bois one by one on their little eggy foreheads. Pentious had tried to claim a kiss too, but Angel and Husk literally held him back. Well, that was just fine. Once she was back in her princess gown and glittering in her princess jewels, she’ll… she’ll find a way to see them again. Even if they would treat her differently. Even if she was unworthy of her throne.

She donned Alastor’s armor and buckled the sword at her side. The Radio Daemon was nowhere to be found - Niffty flitted around in her soul for a bit before telling her that he had been disappearing every night to do… something. But at least he seemed more cheerful now. She rolled up her tent and began walking out, casting a red-eyed glance over the still training camp. So many people were sleeping now. So many people she wouldn’t be saying goodbye to.

Dazzle was still waiting in that meadow where she had left him all those weeks ago. Niffty was visiting regularly to make sure he wasn’t too bored or going hungry. According to her, he missed his twin, Razzle, but was otherwise fine. She usually described his expression as “no thoughts, only love.” It was… a surprisingly accurate way to describe him. Well, she supposed that this was one silver lining to this situation: she’d see Dazzle again. And at least she got some taste of freedom before her father locked her up in the ivory tower again, surrounded by luxuries that her fellow recruits could only ever dream of.

How would she get back into the palace? She could always just use Dazzle to fly over the wall, but would that draw too much attention? The absolute last thing she wanted was to disappoint Dad even further - Hell, she wouldn’t be shocked if he just sealed her up in her room for the rest of her life. Well, if she didn’t want to draw attention, then flying over the wall was out. So was just walking through the front or back gates. Shoot. She really should've thought of this before setting out.

Niffty fluttered deep in her soul, pressing a tiny reminder at the edges of her mind. Charlie frowned as she closed her eyes, trying to parse through her memories. What did she mean by the side gate? There were a bunch of side gates, so-

Oh.

The side gate she had once used to sneak out of the palace as a child, the one that was so hidden away that Lucifer had never bothered to set sentries there. Like any gate, it only opened up from the inside. But with Manifestation, anything was possible. If she could just land Dazzle some distance away, then she could just sneak back into the palace through that. She’d have to figure out how to open the gate from the outside, but she was sure if she and Niffty put their heads together, they’d come up with something. Worst come to worst, she could always knock and pray that Dad did put sentries there. The sort of sentries who weren’t the super stabby type.

A slight glow caught her eye as she walked, causing her to pause for just a bit. The transparent cube holding the tiny shard of Grace stood in the same spot it had been standing since the start of training. Numerous recruits - including Charlie herself - had tried and failed to remove the thing over the past few weeks. Eventually, they all just sort of collectively gave up. Between getting burnt by the celestial fire, the indestructible nature of the entire thing, and the reflective abilities of the cube, there seemed to be no way in. Charlie frowned as she approached it, her mind racing through any and all possibilities.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt her to try one more time, right?

She first started as she always did, trying to pop the top off just enough to slip a hand through and go for the shard. As always, the lid of the cube strained against the chains holding it in place, causing it to slam shut the moment she removed one hand from its retracting position to try to grab at the shard. At least now her reflexes were quick enough to where it no longer slammed on top of her hand like before.

Next, she tried to use a nearby piece of wood to poke and prod the chains off. The moment it touched the chains, however, the thing burst on fire. She let out a small squeak as she tossed the wood aside, Niffty happily appearing from her shadow and catching the wood before waving it around and running off. Charlie sensed in her soul the daemon’s goal: to go find as many cockroaches as she could and burn them alive in front of their nest. Something about showing them that if they left home, they would only meet Hell. It was… an interesting thought, to say the least.

Even trying to use the magic imbued in Alastor’s armor didn’t work. Ever since he became less cranky, the Radio Daemon had actually taken the time to teach her a little bit about the quirks of his armor and sword. Lucifer had mostly placed protective enchantments on the armor, but there were a few little attack enhancers too. Mostly, they were sparks and concentrated sonic blasts. When combined with Alastor’s staff, it supposedly granted her the ability to let out a piercing soundwave so loud that it could disrupt the rocks at a faraway mountain side. She didn’t really have any need for the soundwave part, but maybe a well-controlled magical attack could start shattering the cube? 

Unfortunately, just like before with Husk’s Gambit sorcery, the cube just reflected everything back at her. Charlie stepped away with now slightly burnt fingertips and a new hatred for the stench of burnt hair and flesh. Growling in frustration, she kicked the cube with all her might, watching as it slid slightly across the grass.

Wait.

She walked over to the cube and knelt, red eyes examining it closely. Then, she looked around. She… needed something long, hard, and thin. Something like… oh! Charlie ran over and grabbed the knife sharpening rod sitting among the nearby kitchen tools, testing its weight. It wasn’t the most exciting thing she could use, but at least it would do the job

Holding part of the rod between her teeth, she walked back to the cube and used both hands to pry it open once again. Then, as carefully as she could, she slipped the rod from between her teeth to just under the lid, leaving enough of it exposed so that she’d have a good amount of leverage for the next phase of her plan. She grinned as the lid slammed onto the rod, the kitchen tool wiggling precariously from the force of the impact but holding firm. Now there was a gap between the lid and the box. Perfect!

Next, she turned the cube over, careful to not let her hands brush against the celestial chains. Once the lid and knife were on the ground, she began carefully sliding it over to a nearby tent spike. It was at just about the right height she needed - hopefully it would hold firm long enough for her to get things moving. First, she ensured that the spike was as close to the non-chained surface of the cube as she could. Then, she braced the rod against the spike and pressed against it with both hands plus her body weight. She watched in glee as the box separated itself from the lid even further, straining the magical chains. 

She could do this.

She took one hand off of the rod, still throwing the weight of her body and one hand behind the lever. The free hand slipped into her pocket and pulled out Husk’s deck of cards. Grinning wildly, she slipped the cards under the lid, once again careful not to touch the chains. When she removed her weight from the rod, the lid slammed closed against the deck of cards, leaving a larger gap between the box and the lid. Large enough to where she could actually slip a hand in.

The shard of Grace seemed to glitter at her in greeting as one slim, pale hand closed around it. It pulsed with power, almost as though it were congratulating her for a job well done. Charlie’s spirits soared as she stood and lifted the shard up to the sky, red eyes widening when golden light suddenly crowned her hand. The sky slowly became painted in shades of pink and orange, signaling the arrival of a new day.

Had she really been working on this until dawn?

Slowly, people began emerging from their tents, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they looked around. One by one, said sleepy eyes turned to face her as she stood there, still holding the shard up triumphantly. Whispers rippled through the crowd, hundreds of eyes widening in awe at the sight of her conquering what they had thought could not be conquered. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, her comrades in arms gathered around her, some of them letting out cheers, others thumping her on the back. Charlie held firm, tears pooling in her eyes as she gripped onto her prize.

She felt a very particular eye on her. Looking over her shoulder, Charlie’s grin widened as she met Vaggie’s gaze. The captain was standing there, completely shell-shocked, lips parted, eye wide. She blinked a few times, then reached over and pinched one of her arms, as though trying to wake herself up from a dream. When that didn’t happen, she blinked again. Then, a smirk. She leaned over and rested against a nearby stack of crates, shaking her head in clear disbelief as Husk, Angel, and Pentious charged forward and hoisted Charlie onto their shoulders. While they paraded her around the camp, Charlie’s eyes fell on Vaggie, watching as the smirk gave way to a genuine, dazzling smile. It was the prettiest thing Charlie had ever seen.

If there was one thing about war that he hated more than anything else, it was the waiting. Waiting for spies to come back and tell him something useful. Waiting for some idiot to die so he could swoop in for an epic revenge kill. Waiting for the enemy army to get into just the right position for ambush. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting was lame. Waiting was boring. Waiting meant that he was doing nothing and he hated doing nothing because that meant he was being fucking useless.

As though sensing his impatience, the woman next to him placed a cold, yet somehow reassuring hand on his shoulder. "They're coming soon, sir. And I heard they brought some... special guests."

"How soon?" he asked. He ripped into the chicken leg before him with his teeth, swallowing the the meat in a single slurp. He tossed the bone aside to some nearby hounds, who tore into it with glee. "'Cuz this shit is literally the worst part of war."

As though in answer to him, the universe gave him pounding hooves. He stood, shoving the table out of the way. The food fell to the ground below, ripe pickings for the hounds. He didn't give a shit. All he wanted was to finally stop with this goddamned boredom.

Outside, the two warriors hopped off their horse, black masks gleaming menacingly. They grabbed the two men they had been dragging along behind their steeds and shoved them to the ground. From the faint glow around the two mens' hands, he could see that they used celestial rope. Why? Regular rope would've been fine. It wasn't like every living thing in Faustus possessed some sort of crazy magical energy.

"Imperial scouts, sir." One of the masked warriors said.

He sneered. "Well look what came crawlin' all the way from the palace. You fucks should feel lucky." He spread his arms, gesturing to the huge encampment that lay just outside his tent. "You found the Angel army. Congrats. Want a prize? We have some sweet, sweet prizes for Faustians that wander in here."

One of the scouts - he didn't bother registering the face in his mind because why the fuck would he? - snarled. "His Majesty will stop you!"

A loud snort sounded from the woman next to him. "Stop us? Please. He couldn't even stop his daemon from getting hurt." She smirked. "I heard that disgusting thing's still hobbling around the palace with that wound. Bet he cries over it at night."

"Oh, totally," he said. "Man, I can't wait to crush that little shit and his stupid grin."

"Maybe it'll make up for the last war when you-"

"Hey! Fuck you! The only reason I had to retreat was 'cuz they fucking cheated. But now? Oh, now I'm fighting on even ground."

"Erm, the scouts, sir?" The other masked warrior asked. He turned to glare at her.

"Hey! You made me wait, so I'm making you wait. It's only fair." Still, she had a point; he was itching to ride to battle. So might as well get things moving now. He grinned as he walked over and bent down so he was eye-level with the scouts.

"Head back to His Royal Fuckhead and tell him to surrender and my girls and I are gonna exterminate every single one of you."

"... Or, sir."

"What?"

"Or your girls and you are going to exterminate every single one of them."

"That's what I said!" he rolled his eyes, annoyance shooting through him as he waved his Lieutenant away. "Anyways, yeah. Go tell him." Then, with a flick of his wrist, the celestial rope became undone. Almost immediately, the scouts turned tail and ran. Fucking cowards. This was why Faustus needed to come under Angel rule. They were the only ones around here who could wield the land and magic properly.

He counted to ten, watching as the two scouts retreated over the ridge. Then, he turned to the woman standing next to him. "Yo Lute. How many guys does it take to deliver a message to the king?"

She smirked. Then, she picked up her spear and leaped on the nearest horse in one single fluid motion. "One."

Chapter Text

Alastor found himself waking up in the middle of a bayou. He blinked, then sat up quickly, a brief shock of dizziness overtaking him while he ran both hands through his hair. Two ears. Two antlers. Ten fingers. Two eyes. A nose. A pair of hooves. A tail. Okay, so he was still in one piece. At least that was some small comfort. 

Soft earth squished underneath his shoes as he stood, the marshy landscape stretching endlessly before him. He frowned, ears flattening against his scalp. He knew this place. It had been decades since he had been here, but he recognized it immediately. 

The Daemon Realm.

What was he doing back here? As far as he knew, Lucifer hadn’t ended their contract, and Alastor didn’t have the power to do so. Was it possible that another daemon had somehow managed to take over Alastor’s contract? That shouldn’t be possible. If it was, then there was something very, very wrong.

Alastor’s chest clenched at the mere thought of another daemon curled around his king’s soul, a horrible sense of possessiveness shooting through his veins. Once he figured out what was going on, he was going to rip and tear any creature that dared put their unworthy hands on his king or his celestial core. Those belonged to Alastor. And Alastor hated sharing.

A noise behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. Almost immediately, he whirled towards the source, shadowy tendrils bursting from the ground as his smile widened into a menacing sneer. As the figure emerged from the trees, he reared back claw riding up, and-

Rosie.

He dropped his claw immediately. Alastor straightened, his smile relaxing just a tad. He put his hands behind his back. “Oh? What is the scion of House Dolly doing in the Daemon Realm?”

“Alastor!” Rosie said cheerfully as she carefully moved a branch out of her face and made her way over to him, practically gliding across the water. “Oh thank goodness, I was afraid I’d have to clean all of this up alone.”

Ah.

“My dear, I would never leave you hanging,” Alastor said cheerfully. Then, he looked around, red eyes searching for the portal he knew would soon open in the waters before them. “Though it would seem our dear little king is taking his sweet time with this dream.”

Lucifer was normally able to keep his Manifestation under tight control, but even he wasn’t infallible. Alastor normally helped quite a bit, eating tiny bits and pieces of the pulsing magical core each night both to fuel his own daemonic power and to continue hopefully healing his wound. He couldn’t eat too much, of course, since celestial power was highly poisonous to daemons in large doses. In times of extreme stress or despair, however, this core had a tendency to get a touch too powerful even for Alastor to help with. His dear little king could lose control and Manifest his nightmares if things got very bad. This is where Rosie - and her own bloodline’s sorcery - came in.

Rosie’s magic was called Cannibalize, meaning she was capable of consuming magical cores. On any other Faustian, all she’d have to do is wait for Alastor to rip it out of the offender’s chest and hand it to her, then she’d have it with a nice pot of tea and maybe a lady finger or two. The owner of that core would then very, very painfully cease to exist. It’s what made her the perfection executioner. On a Morningstar though? That was a much more complex process. She and Alastor would have to invade the Manifested nightmare and convince whatever version of Lucifer they were about to face to willingly hand over his dream core. Most of the time, it was easy enough - other times, Alastor had to step in and literally knock some sense into Lucifer’s dream self.

Aha! There was that portal. Alastor grinned as the golden circle appeared in front of them. Pure, unfiltered power radiated from the portal, so raw and wild that it would make any lesser daemon shrink away. But that was what had attracted Alastor to Lucifer’s call in the first place - the promise of power beyond his imagination, of being able to draw upon a celestial core, of being able to Manifest just a little bit to his heart’s content. The thought of reliving the moment they made their pact, of seeing the spark in his king’s soul become his to have and hold, had him practically salivating all over again. 

Ancient runes appeared around the perimeter and spelled out his- Wait a minute. That wasn’t his name. That wasn’t the name of any particular daemon he knew about. What was going on? 

“Looks like he’s changing the script of this one,” Rosie said as she adjusted her silk robe. “Must have something on his mind, poor thing. This might be a bit tougher than usual.”

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. Must his king always make him do so much work? He and Rosie had seen this particular Manifested nightmare so many times before that they both knew the script by heart… except of course, of course Lucifer was changing it this time. “It would seem so. I don’t recognize the name on the portal, but we may as well step in.” His voice lowered, static buzzing dangerously. “Dream or not, I will not allow any other disgusting creature here to touch what is mine.”

Rosie made a small, amused noise behind him. “You’re a hoot and a half, Alastor. I’d start teasing you right now, but yes, let’s get movin’. I need my beauty sleep.”

They stepped into the portal and soon found themselves not in a bayou, but in a forest clearing, the coppery scent of blood hanging in the air. Wind blew around them, carrying with it the smells of a battlefield: smoke, iron, blood, and of course death. Alastor inhaled happily, nostalgia washing over him as he put his arms behind his back and grinned down at the much, much younger King of Faustus. Well, actually, he hadn’t been crowned yet at this time.

Crown Prince Lucifer Morningstar was trembling, staring up at him with almost innocent tear-stained ruby red eyes. His hair was an absolute mess, his white armor was covered with battle grime, and there was a hand-shaped streak of blood over one side of his face. Lilith’s blood. Out of reflex, Alastor tried to tap into the radio waves he knew to be near the palace just to check and make sure that little future baby Charlotte was safe. When the radio waves didn’t respond, he let out a small, annoyed sigh. His powers hadn’t been that enhanced yet.

“Salutations! I don’t suppose you could point me to the being who summoned me?” he asked, red eyes scanning over the man below him. One ear twitched at the sight of the bloody handprint on his king’s face. No doubt, it was the result of a disgustingly cheesy goodbye. It would almost be adorable if it weren’t for the fact that it was a stark reminder of how Lucifer’s heart had once belonged to another. “I haven’t been in this world in so long that I might get a bit lost if I move too far from the portal!”

A beat of silence. Lucifer’s golden gaze slowly traveled up and down Alastor, taking in the daemon’s tall form. Interestingly enough, he didn’t seem to register Rosie at all. Well, this made things just a bit harder then. They had to resolve whatever little issue was changing the script, then maybe he’d notice her. If not, Alastor would hate to have to battle yet another dream version of Lucifer just to try ripping out his little dream core. The last time he did so, the dream core had burnt him so badly he couldn’t use one of his hands for a month.

Then, the Crown Prince opened his mouth. “What is this? You’re not the daemon I summoned. Are you his bellhop or something?”

A changed script indeed. Alastor’s smile widened, his ears perking up as red claws curled into his palm. “Oh no, my lord. I’m the demon that happened to be nearby when you opened the portal! I do apologize for that. Perhaps if you gave me the name of the one you were trying to summon, I could go find out where they are?” And rip off their head in the process for daring to try to claim what was his, but that wasn’t something he had to tell the Crown Prince.

Young Lucifer hesitated. Then, he ran one hand through his platinum blonde locks, leaving more blood streaks like little highlights through his hair. It made him look positively delectable. “Erm… I… I don’t remember…”

Alastor tilted his head, static popping playfully. “Oh dear, going senile already? Perhaps I was wrong then. I stepped through the portal expecting a powerful sorcerer, but all I get is a sniveling little prince with dementia.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Should I thank His Highness for wasting my time, or would you prefer to simply close the portal?”

Lucifer growled. “Fuck you!”

“Not interested in that either, I’m afraid.”

“Ugh! Just- look. You might not be the one I summoned, but I can still smell the power coming off of you. You’re… not weak.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “I’m absolutely tickled pink. You’re correct, my little lord. I am the exact opposite of weak.” Then, just to drive the point home, he released his control on his form, allowing himself to grow taller, his smile becoming positively horrifying in the process. Glowing green stitches surrounded him as his limbs elongated and twisted with sickening pops and cracks. His antlers expanded, his neck contorted, his static flared around him like a storm. Normally, his tendrils would appear too, but… well, he couldn’t exactly Manifest them right now.

Unlike in more recent years, Lucifer seemed quite scared by this form. His already pale face was downright corpse-like now, his hands curled into trembling fists. A spark of fear and intrigue danced behind those red eyes. Interesting. Part of Alastor almost wanted to wrap one huge hand around the man, feel him writhe and squirm in his grasp as he struggled to break free. Maybe he’d try using a bit of celestial magic to stop him? Alastor would love to see him try.

“Okay, point proven,” Lucifer muttered as Alastor once again shrank back to his usual form. The future King of Faustus bit his lip, clearly looking conflicted. Then, he let out a sigh and schooled his features. He looked straight into Alastor’s eyes. “Whoever you are… let’s make a pact. And make it quick. I…” he swallowed. “I have a duty to fulfill.”

Alastor paused. This was definitely a change in the script. “A duty?”

Lucifer nodded. “Yeah. To Faustus. I need your power to kick the Angels outta here.” He grimaced. “Save my people, avenge my parents and wife, take the throne… all that good stuff. So yeah.” He held out his hand, a tiny gold spark dancing on it. “Let’s do it.”

… 

…

This wasn’t his king.

Lucifer was a petulant, despairing, anxious, almost childish little soul, one who was much more prone to making messes than fixing them. As powerful as he was, he was an insecure little thing who craved the love torn from him with Lilith’s death. Replacing that love with the love for his people was an impossibility - but he never stopped trying. Never stopped dreaming. Never resigned himself in the way this little prince was doing so now.

He hated the sight of it.

It made him nauseous.

It made him want to refuse the pact.

“No.”

“No?” Confusion and fury rose up in Crown Prince Lucifer’s voice, those red eyes flashing. “What do you mean no?”

Alastor’s smile widened as he bent a little at the waist, until he was just above eye-level with the future king. “No means no, I’m afraid. I came to this plane searching for a powerful sorcerer, but all I found was a sniveling little prince.”

Lucifer let out a growl. “Are you fucking serious here? You feel my core, don’t you? I’m a Morningstar. I’m full of celestial magic!”

Alastor hummed. “That is undeniable. But I’m not talking about your core, little prince. I’m talking about you.” One red claw came up and prodded Lucifer in the chest, just above his heart. “Your spirit is so weak it’s surrendering to lofty little ideals that aren’t even yours to begin with.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a fucking prince. My duty is-”

“There you go again! Duty, duty, duty,” Canned laughter sounded from somewhere around him. “Are you so weak-willed that you can’t assert your own wants? So stupid you can’t think of your own goals? If I am to share my power, I demand more in exchange.” He sneered. “I won’t enslave myself to someone who can’t separate his duty from his own free will. That will doom a kingdom just as quickly as it will doom a life.”

The sorcerer went silent at that. Rose-petal lips parted, but no sound came out. Red eyes widened. His hands trembled. Golden tendrils of magic flickered at his fingertips.

Alastor was now eye-level with the Crown Prince, one red-clawed hand coming up to grip that little jaw. Oh, how had he not noticed before? Lucifer’s bones were so finely shaped, so delicate. He was practically a little wine glass. “So? What will it be, little prince? Will you tell me what you truly want from my power or will you be closing the portal? Do make sure you mind the time. I hate having my time wasted.”

Again, Lucifer was silent. Then, he let out a long exhale. Once again, that bloodied hand carded through his hair. More tiny streaks of red appeared on those platinum locks. “I…” his voice wavered, then he bit his lip. He closed his eyes. He gritted his teeth. “I want…” Exhale. “I want… to control my own destiny. To use our power to fulfill my dreams.” When he opened his eyes again, Alastor’s breath stilled. There. There was that spark. That beautiful, wild, maniacal spark that fueled the souls of dreamers and rebels alike. When he spoke again, his voice was rough, low, and laced with glorious bloodlust. “I want to become a legend. I want to be the most powerful sorcerer of my bloodline. I want to fuck these Angels and show the world why Faustus shouldn’t be messed with. Not with me on the fucking throne.”

There was his king.

“It’s fuck up, sire.”

Lucifer blinked. “Wait, what’d I say?”

Alastor’s smile widened as he removed his hand from Lucifer’s face and straightened. “Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Now…” he held out one hand, wreathed in bright green flames. “Shall we make our pact?”

Lucifer was grinning again, a lovely, dangerous little thing. It was just a step short of maniacal, and a few steps above wild. He extended his hand bathed in golden fire and used it to grip Alastor’s. The two flames flashed wildly as they touched, quickly morphing and twisting into a truly beautiful light. Two chains appeared around their link hands - one gold, one green - and surrounded them, locking the two together until the pact could be finished.

“I am thou. Thou art I. Call upon my name and allow thy rebel’s soul to break free of its chains,” Alastor’s grin widened, replaced by a sneer. “For the sake of your dream, let’s bathe the world in entertaining fire!”

The fire in Lucifer’s eyes had sparked into an inferno. He let out a high, hysterical laugh as he squeezed Alastor’s hand, then pulled him closer. Their foreheads were almost touching. Lucifer’s hot breath gently blew across his face. His chest clenched.

This wasn’t in the script.

“Alastor,” Oh, how deliciously did his name roll off the future king’s tongue. “Radio Daemon. I am thou, thou art I. Give me your power and I’ll give you mine. We’ll rain Hell on these fuckers and anyone else who comes after them!”

The air between them was absolutely charged with power now, the clash of Lucifer’s celestial core and Alastor’s daemonic magic sending waves of pure potential throughout the area. Raw, pulsing divine essence began pouring into him, filling every crevice of his blackened soul. And Alastor happily welcomed it. Embraced it. Begged it to find a place within him to curl up so he could sink his claws into it forevermore. 

Something shifted deep in Lucifer’s red eyes. A touch of fatigue crept into the young prince’s idealism. A thin tendril of wisdom. Suddenly, he was staring not into the passionate, rebellious eyes of a prince, but the gently tempered gaze of a king. Alastor straightened his back, the fire between them fading into a gentle little candle flame as Lucifer shifted his gaze to Rosie, finally seeing her for the first time. The smile that appeared on those rose-petal lips was sheepish, his gaze falling slightly, but the little dreamer’s spark that Alastor had not seen in a very, very long time remained.

“Ah… I… I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” Lucifer asked. “Heh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you two up.” Then, he reached into his heart and pulled out a tiny golden orb. It was a bit bigger than usual, but Alastor and Rosie knew the sight well: it was Dream Lucifer’s celestial core.

Rosie stepped forward, a strange, knowing little smile on her face. She took the core from their king’s hand. “As much as I love my beauty sleep, it’s always nice to get some evening entertainment before bed.” She winked. “Just do your lovely executioner a favor and find some time between you two to talk, hm? Can’t have you two possibly going to war without resolving at least some things first.” Then, she popped the little core in her mouth and swallowed it whole, the world around them coalescing and reforming into Lucifer’s bedroom.

Lucifer grinned as he stretched. “Mm! Haven’t felt this refreshed in a while. Maybe I should start Manifesting dreams more often.”

Rosie let out a tiny giggle. “Oh Your Majesty, please don’t make jokes like that.” She gave him a sharp-toothed grin. “I need to watch my girlish figure, you know.”

“Right… Right,” Lucifer gulped, his smile becoming nervous as he eyed those sharp teeth. “Then I’ll just make sure that we bring Charlotte home safe.”

If Rosie had visible eyes, they would’ve twinkled. “Please do.” Then, she turned to Alastor. “Always a pleasure exploring our king’s dreams as usual, Alastor. Oh, and Your Majesty? Congratulations on renewing your vows with him.” Then, she was gone with nary a curtsy or a wave.

A few moments of silence fell between the king and the Radio Daemon, interrupted only by the gentle whine of frequency. Alastor stilled, doing his best to stop himself from fidgeting under Lucifer’s stare. The fierce, almost intimate thrill from reliving their pact creation was still rushing through his veins. It was fueling a fire that he didn’t even know he had.

Lucifer broke it first. “I… heard from Carmilla and Zestiel that they’re gonna be asking Captain Vaggie’s unit to move out soon. I guess they’ve heard reports that the Angels are gearing up for some kind of assault. They want the unit to bolster the defenses.”

One of Alastor’s ears twitched. “Shall I sabotage their horses and cargo, sire?”

Lucifer bit his lip. For a brief moment, conflict flashed over his features. Then, he shook his head. “No… You said that Charlotte’s a good fighter now, right? That she can hold her own?”

Alastor nodded. In the intervening time between her successfully grabbing the shard of Grace from the strange little cube and now, Charlotte had indeed improved immensely. All of a sudden, it was as though something had lit a fire in her. She was winning spars, shooting arrows, dodging magic, and even catching fish with her bare hands at a level that left even experienced warriors like Alastor a little bit impressed. What was more, her skill with his sword and armor had improved significantly as well - now she was able to actually grip it properly and didn’t accidentally drop it so much. Really, the only thing he hadn’t seen her improve on was her Manifestation, but of course practicing it would just give away her identity, and none of them wanted that.

Another sigh. Another shake of his king’s head. “Then… just follow her. Protect her. Step in if things get too nasty, but…” He hesitated. “She… made this choice. For some reason or another, she did this willingly. As long as she’s following her heart, who am I to stop her?” The smile he gave Alastor was small, laced with uncertainty… but beautiful. Anxiety twisted in his soul like a thorny vine, but his resolve held firm. It had to. That dreamer’s spark, that rebel’s soul, would never bow to fear. Alastor’s smile widened as he bowed, lifting Lucifer’s hand to his lips.

“As you wish, my little lord.”

The quaint village was nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, the air filled with the joyful screams of children as they chased each other. Colorful cottages with thatched, snow-lined roofs lined the cobblestone streets, their windows adorned with vibrant flower boxes overflowing with pristine white snow. The delicious scent of freshly baked bread and sweets hung in the air, magic sparks flying as the Faustian villagers went about their days running errands and sharing laughter.

It was a disgustingly cheesy sight.

In the center of the village square, a little girl with bright eyes and rosy cheeks kissed by the icy world around her played with a worn-out looking doll, her giggles blending seamlessly with the cheerful melodies of village song. She sat on the edge of a frozen fountain and rocked it back and forth, singing a sweet little lullaby. Lute paused only for a second to regard her, then sneered. How fitting that the last sound to leave her lips would be a lullaby.

Without hesitation, she reached into her plain brown robes and unclasped the war horn that hung at her side. The polished brass gleamed in the bright morning light as she raised it to her lips. She pulled back her head, grinning as the villagers around her looked at her first in curiosity, then abject fear. Many screamed. Many more ran to hide. A couple of brave ones began running at her. Her heart quickened in anticipation as she took a deep breath and blew, the war horn releasing a high, pure note that pierced the air.

In the distance, she heard the thunder of rapidly approaching hooves.

Charlie needed a bath.

Unfortunately, because the camp was so large and the showers were shared, she was often afraid that going in would eventually expose her. No, she needed to find some place where she could clean herself in peace without the chance of someone coming by and seeing her distinctly not boy-ish parts. And it wasn’t like she could just Manifest a bath for herself, because that would just attract even more unwanted attention. No, she needed to set out and find what she was looking for on her own.

Thankfully, her stamina had increased quite a bit since joining the encampment, allowing her to venture out a bit further without getting too tired. If needed, she could also draw on Niffty’s energy, though she hated to leave her little jewel beetle so exhausted that she slept all day. Still, that was at least an option, and having one option was better than none!

The forest path she walked on soon opened up into a clearing bathed in silver moonlight. Before her lay a sight that took her breath away—a vast, crystal-clear lake shimmering in the dappled light of the forest canopy. Charlie’s eyes widened as she approached the water’s edge, the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore beckoning her closer. The air was filled with the scent of water lilies and the sound of fish echoed in the water, creating a sense of tranquility that washed over her like a soothing balm.

Perfect!

WIth a grateful sigh, she hung her towel up on a nearby tree then stripped, her aching muscles and stinking armpits craving the cool embrace of the water. She waded into the lake with careful steps, then dived to submerge herself fully. When she popped up again, she wound the water through her hair, happily removing the sweat and oils that had built up for so long. God, this was absolutely perfect. Nothing could ruin this-

“EGG BOIS! ATTAAAAACK!”

No, no, no, no, NO!

Charlie let out the manliest squeal possible as she dove to the side, barely dodging the tiny splashes followed by Pentious diving in himself. Rancorous laughter and loud whoops filled the air as Angel then jumped in, folding all of his limbs into a perfect cannonball. Husk, meanwhile, just chugged down a contraband beer before tossing the bottle aside and jumping in himself, the three men laughing as they splashed each other.

Shit. She needed to get out of here. Where was her towel again? Oh right, on that tree right next to Husk’s beer. Maybe she could just hide then? Yeah, there was a rock over there that she could hide behind. At least until the three soldiers were done bathing so she could climb out. Sure, that sounded like a great plan! Great plan…

“Hey! This guy doesn’t have any boy parts!”

Shit shit shit shit shit-

The three men looked over at her, Angel raising an eyebrow, Husk tilting his head. Pentious just stared. Charlie gulped as she covered her chest with her arm, thanking every god up above that she at least had a flat enough chest where she could pass as a boy. But her bottom parts? Oh God, she was so doomed-

“How many times have I told you to stop saying crazy shit like that?” Pentious hissed as he swam over and grabbed the offending Egg Boi. “And stop looking at people’s privates! Our new friends will think we’re perverts!”

“It’s a bit late for that, Slithers,” Angel snickered. He used two arms to wave at Charlie. “What’s up, Stutters? Hope you’re not trying to hide from us! C’mon, ain’t we all friends here?”

Husk smiled, a touch of warmth gracing its edges. “Man gets one shard of grace and suddenly he thinks he’s better than us. I see how it is. We’ll just need to kick his ass in poker again so he knows his place.”

Oh thank God, they didn’t suspect anything. Charlie felt Niffty let out a tiny sigh in relief too, then a buzz. Oh. She wanted to play with the Egg Bois. Punish them severely for almost blowing her cover. Charlie pressed herself even more against the rock as she sent a quick scolding thought to Niffty. No, murdering those cute little egg things was not going to help keep Charlie’s cover in every way. The shadow flittering across her soul gave her a tiny wine, then settled down into a sulk.

“Oh hey guys! I didn’t know you knew about this place too!” Charlie said. Her eyes shifted over to her towel. “Well anyways, I’m all cleaned up and need to go, so-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Stutters!” Angel said, swimming over happily. Charlie gulped as she maneuvered in a way so her lower body was hiding behind the rock. “This is a bath, ain’t it? We’ve all been stinkin’ up a storm over in camp. Relax. Enjoy it. The less you stink, the more likely you’ll attract someone good. Unless…” He waggled his eyebrows. “You’re the type that likes it when someone’s attracted to your natural musk.”

Husk snorted. “Anyone who says that they don’t mind the stink has a broken ass nose.”

Angel whirled on Husk and stood on the bottom of the pool, hands on his hips. “Says the guy who was sniffin’ my neck nonstop last night.” He stuck out his tongue. “You didn’t seem to mind the stink then.”

A flush broke out on the soldier’s face, one hand coming up and splashing water directly at Angel. “I never said there weren’t any exceptions.”

“Ah! To be young and feel the viper’s sting of love!” Pentious sighed, falling backwards so now he was floating on his back and staring at the sky. 

Angel glared at the man. “We’re the same age, Slithers.”

Pentious ignored him, choosing instead to place his hand against his heart. “My dearest love is far from me now. Fighting in another battalion leagues away. Oh how I worry for her safety!” He now reached for the stars, eyes wide open and sparkling. “Cherri Bomb! Wait for me, my love! I shall complete my training here at this camp then join you wherever you are!”

“You said it, Boss!”

“Yeah! Let’s bomb the camp!”

“WOOOOOO!”

Husk scowled at the Egg Bois. “Don’t those things ever shut up? We’re gonna be court-marshaled if they keep talking about bombing shit.”

Pentious huffed. “They say crazy shit all the time. Just ignore them!”

Niffty fluttered around Charlie’s racing heart, pressing a question into her mind. Did she need to go get some help? Charlie gave her a silent nod, then bit her lip and watched as the little jewel beetle slipped out of the shadow she was projecting on the rock before flying away in the direction of camp. Oh God, she really hoped that a rescue was on its way soon.

“Speakin’ of crazy shit, you guys wanna hear something spicy?” Angel asked. He once again turned back towards Charlie, heterochromatic eyes glinting mischievously. “I heard that dear ol’ Captain Chihuahua has had trouble keepin’ her eye off a certain someone. Who knew she had a heart?”

“That isn’t spicy at all,” Husk said with a roll of his eyes. “Anyone with half the amount of eyes she’s got can tell.”

Warmth flooded Charlie’s face as the three soldiers turned to look at her, alabaster hands gripping on the rock just a bit tighter. “I-I don’t know what any of you are talking about!”

“Oh come on, Stutters,” Angel said. He was now folded up and submerged under the water now, his head and neck being the only things that stuck out. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed? Whenever she isn’t yelling at someone - which isn’t a lot of the times, but you get my drift - she’s lookin’ over at you.”

Charlie swallowed. “W-Well, of course she has to look at me! I mean, I fell behind everyone at the beginning and she almost sent me home, s-so-”

“So now that you’re doing well - better than a good amount of us - you think she still needs to stare at you more than other people?” Husk asked with a smirk. “Sorry, but I’m with Angel here. You two stare at each other so much we might as well just stick you guys in front of the Angelic army. They might get so sick from all the lovesickness in the air that we’ll win the war no problem.”

Charlie resisted the urge to dive into the water to cool her face. Actually, that sounded like a great idea. Maybe if she cooled her face, she’d be able to think of a way to escape.

“What do you see in the captain anyways, Stutters?” Angel asked. He grinned as he lazily began swimming around. “Sure, she’s nice to look at, but so are a bunch of other people here. And since you’re so close with the King’s Consort, I doubt it’s cuz you like power that much.” He smirked. “So what is it? Did you guys have some sorta private talk? Maybe some spicy sparring sessions?”

Charlie let out a low wheeze. “No, no, nothing like that! I just… She and I are just good comrades in arms! I just admire her for her fierce protectiveness and loyalty to her duty!”

“Yeah, okay, but what about her outfits? The way she holds that spear of hers? Those muscles?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me there ain’t anything there.”

Charlie gulped. “I mean… Yes, she’s quite strong! Strong enough to probably take down an army on her own! But like, have you seen how patient she is? How willing she is to just take extra time to teach you to make sure you’re doing things right? And how much she actually cares about the whole battalion? There’s a lot more than just a pretty face!”

Husk’s smile widened. “So you admit, she’s got a pretty face.”

Oh, she was probably glowing now. She was going to set herself on fire. No amount of water surrounding her was going to clench those flames. “N-No! I-”

“Uh… guys?” Angel said suddenly. He had stopped swimming and was now staring in the direction of the shore. Charlie slowly followed his heterochromatic gaze to find… Alastor? Well, Alastor in cat form. He was… grinning. Could cats grin? Well, even if cats couldn’t grin naturally, Alastor clearly found a way to do so. “That weird fuckin’ cat’s looking at us.”

Husk immediately whirled to stare at Alastor, the Gambit sorcerer’s eyes widening in shock. He immediately began swimming away, one hand protectively moving to cover his arm. “Keep that little shit away from me!”

Alastor blinked one eye. Then the other. His smile widened. Slowly, ever so slowly, he walked towards the water. Charlie watched in some strange mixture of confusion, amazement, and relief as the Radio Cat Daemon began releasing tentacles from his back. Those bulging red eyes were practically blazing with glee.

“WHY DOES HE HAVE FUCKING TENTACLES!?”

“OH MY GOD THAT MOTHERFUCKER BLINKED!?”

“I am very confused as to what is going on, but fear not, gentlemen! My Egg Bois will slay the beast!”

“You said it, Boss!”

“We’re gonna spray the yeast!”

The wide kitty grin was absolutely maniacal now, even more tentacles sprouting as the red cat waded into the water. The three soldiers shrieked as they began swimming away, Alastor eagerly following after them while happily throwing Egg Bois all over the place and destroying rocks, lily pads, and anything else in his way with violent little chomps. Taking their distraction as her opportunity, Charlie all but leaped out of the water, covering herself with her towel before any of the men could notice. From the sounds of their shrieks, they were too far away to see her properly anyways. 

The tiniest bit of guilt twisted in her stomach as she ran away. Niffty greeted her with a change of clothes as soon as she was out of sight from the shores of the crystalline lake. Oh thank God she had her daemon with her; it made things so much easier. As soon as Charlie finished changing, she jogged back to camp, ready to turn in for the night. 

Well, at least that’s what she had been planning. But just like many things in life, plans changed. And the flash of silver hair glinting in the light of the little fire pit closest to her tent was enough to completely divert Charlie away from her tent and towards that instead. Vaggie looked up as she approached, single eye blinking slightly as if in a daze. She seemed to be clutching a piece of paper quite tightly. Charlie wasn’t close enough to make out the words, but that was fine; she was here just to talk to Vaggie anyways. 

“Evening, Captain!”

Vaggie gave her a small smile. “Evening.” She patted the seat next to her. “You look like you just had a nice, long bath. That’s good. It’s seriously stunk around here for a while.”

Charlie laughed as she sat down next to her captain, scooting just a bit closer. The fire was warm, but the heat radiating off of Vaggie was somehow even warmer. It felt… nice. Sort of like coming home. “I found a nice lake in the woods. And you know what? I was having a pretty good bath until Husk, Angel, and Pentious came in. Things got… kinda loud after that.”

Vaggie let out a small snort. “Kinda? It’s never a quiet moment with those idiots around. If it isn’t Angel and Husk being all over each other, then it’s Pentious and the Egg Bois running around saying stupid shit.” She shook her head. “Hopefully, we never need to do stealth missions. Those guys would blow our cover in no time.”

“Either that or they’ll be perfect distractions,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Just send them in one direction, and the rest of us in the other! The enemies won’t know what hit ‘em!”

They shared a laugh, the slight tension in Vaggie’s shoulders melting away. She pushed some silvery bangs away from her face and fixed Charlie with a soft smile. Much softer than the smiles she had been giving the other soldiers. Huh. It looked… really nice on her. “You can’t lift for shit, Magne… but you got a good brain. You’d be a good captain one day.”

Charlie’s grin widened. “If I’m half as good of a captain as you are, then the world better watch out! We’ll use our two units to take it on together!”

The corner of Vaggie’s eye crinkled. “Slow down there, Magne. You still got a long way to go. Gotta head over to the military academy first! Then again…” she tapped her chin. “I guess being the King Consort’s Guard is a high enough position where you might be able to bypass academy training.”

Charlie groaned. “Ugh. Can I just like… not have any of that kind of special treatment? I’m totally sick of it!” She wrinkled her nose. “Nothing but special treatment my whole life. I just wanna make sure everyone knows that I’m just like them, you know?”

Vaggie shot her a small, rueful smile. “The sentiment’s nice, but you gotta remember that people are weird. They treat you a way just because you’re born a certain way and have no control over it.” She sighed. “I was one of the lucky ones that got given the chance to rise above just being an orphan in some random orphanage. But a ton of people are way less lucky.”

Charlie bit her lip. Despite her status as Crown Princess, she knew all too well what Vaggie was talking about. Sure, whenever she visited the orphanage, the children would be so excited and happy to see her. She’d bring donations and throw a party and make sure that there was a spot of brightness in their days, but she knew the darkness underneath it all. Knew that a Faustian born into a family was often much more desired than adopting an orphan. Knew that for many of these orphans, it was either the military or the streets with no in-between. She had hoped to enact at least some changes once she and Sev got married, but- well. Perhaps it was better she didn’t think about it.

“So… got any plans for after all of this is over?” Charlie asked, leaning just a bit closer to Vaggie’s warmth. Light pink dusted the other woman’s cheeks as she cleared her throat, scooting in just a bit closer herself. Their hands were so close they were nearly touching. Charlie blinked, wondering why her pulse had suddenly quickened so much.

“To be honest, I’m probably just gonna head home with my parents and sisters,” Vaggie said, grinning sheepishly. “Not the most glamorous thing I know, but… well, I’ve been at the military academy for so long that I haven’t been home in a while. There’s this totally amazing river that General Zestiel and I used to go fishing on all the time. I think that’ll probably be the first thing I do.”

That look on her face - bright, eager, full of excitement - was probably the loveliest expression to ever cross Vaggie’s face. Charlie found herself breathless, only able to stare at the other woman as she launched into a quick explanation on fly fishing. Her heart was absolutely racing now. God, what was going on? Was she getting sick? She really shouldn’t be getting sick now.

“That all sounds amazing,” Charlie said when Vaggie paused to take a breath. The army captain blinked, then flushed. “I’d love to go with you! I-If you’ll have me.”

Vaggie grinned. “Yeah! I mean-” she coughed. “If that’s okay with your boss. I don’t want to pull you away from your duties just for some silly fly-fishing.”

Charlie tilted her head, smile widening. “I’m sure I can convince my handlers to let me go!” Besides, what was Alastor going to do? Try to stop her? Drag her back to the palace? He had already tried that once and it clearly hadn’t worked out for him. Besides, she doubted that he’d want to be too far from her dad for too long. “Worst come to worst, I’ll sneak over to your place and we’ll just go fishing in the dead of night or something. You’ve been such a great teacher anyways that I can now catch fish with my bare hands!”

Again, they shared a laugh at that, Vaggie’s entire face lighting up. When they finished, a companionable silence fell between them, the two soldiers watching as the fire in front of them flickered and crackled cheerfully. For a brief moment, they weren’t part of an army about to go to war - they were just Charlie and Vaggie. Two friends. Two friends who dreamed of fly-fishing on a peaceful little river in a village far, far away from here.

But for some reason, she felt the need to speak again.

“What’re you reading?” Charlie asked, gesturing to the letter. “It looks like it’s pretty important.”

“My mo- General Carmilla sent me a message,” Vaggie said. One slim hand carded through her silvery hair. “She’s asking our unit to join the rest of the army near Virgil Forest. We’re going to launch an assault from there.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, her heart swelling with pride for the woman in front of her. Without a warning, she bounded forward and pulled her captain into a hug, Vaggie letting out a strangled noise of surprise. She squeezed and squeezed the woman until she heard her back popped, then happily released her, still half-vibrating in sheer joy.

“See!? I told you! I told you! You’re a great captain and you’ve proven yourself by training us into the best unit in the history of the world. We’re going to join up with your parents and win this war, I just know it!”

Something danced inside her eye, a bright spark akin to excitement. “H-Hey! Let’s calm down now. I mean, I’m really, really glad you think that, but-” she coughed, pink dusting her cheeks. “But I couldn’t have made it here without great soldiers. L-Like you. Ones who were willing to improve and… um… yeah.”

Charlie’s grin only widened as she straightened and gave her captain a salute. “This soldier and all the ones under your command are proud to be here, ma’am!” She winked and stuck out her tongue. “So? When do we move out?”

“Tomorrow,” Vaggie responded, a small, playful smile lighting up her face. “You should probably start packing up before I make the announcement. I don’t want you slacking and slowing us all down.”

Charlie laughed. “Don’t you worry! I’ll be packed up so fast, you guys will need to keep up with me tomorrow!”

As the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, the camp stirred with activity. Soldiers clad in armor and carrying weapons prepared themselves for the day ahead, their breath visible in the crisp morning air. The sound of clanking armor, drumming boots, and Vaggie shouting orders filled the area as the army assembled in formation. Banners fluttered in the breeze as the army began its march towards Virgil Forest, walking in a perfect single-file line.

It was a long, long march to Virgil Forest from their initial position. While a few of the higher-ranking members of the army - including Vaggie herself - were on horses, the majority of them walked on foot. Alastor, Niffty, and Dazzle - who Alastor had managed to disguise as a silly looking goat - found places hidden in the confines of their little weapons cargo cart. The Egg Bois were all seated in a backpack slung over one of Pentious’ shoulders. 

As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, it was clear that their unit was getting more and more disheartened. Nothing, not even the rolling verdant hills of the countryside they were trudging through, seemed to be lifting anyone’s spirits. Charlie frowned as she looked around, taking off Alastor’s helmet and holding it under one arm. She was sweating up a storm inside it, and it looked like the rest of her comrades were too. This wouldn’t do. She needed to find some way to lift their spirits!

Pressing her lips together, she began whistling a jaunty little tune. Next to her, Pentious, Husk, and Angel glanced at her with some interest. Well, at least Pentious did. Angel furrowed his nicely manicured brows in confusion. Husk just raised an eyebrow. The Egg Bois joined in on her whistling. After a few beats of just that, Charlie opened her mouth, pitching her voice just low enough where it came out as an alto, rather than her usual soprano. “For a long time, we've been marching off to battle!”

A few beats of silence. A few seconds of pure confusion. Charlie smiled sheepishly at her companions while the Egg Bois continued whistling, cheeks burning just a bit in shame. Maybe they weren’t the type to sing marching songs? That stunk. Well, maybe she should’ve read the room better-

Husk opened his mouth. “In our thundering herd, we feel a lot like cattle.”

Pentious grinned as he hoisted his back higher on his back, allowing the Egg Bois to climb out and hop on his shoulders and head. He began swinging his arms, as though conducting a band. “Like the pounding beat, our aching feet aren't easy to ignore!”

“Hey!” Angel slid up to them, heterochromatic eyes glinting mischievously. “Think of instead a love worth fighting for!”

From atop her horse, Vaggie shot them a very confused look. “Huh?”

Angel smirked and wrapped one arm around Husk. “That’s what I said! A love worth fighting for!” They were wading through a lovely, clear river now, holding their items above their heads. Clearly not wanting to carry his pack anymore, Angel all but tossed it to Pentious before wading over to Husk. He twirled around and landed in the Gambit sorcerer’s arm, one long leg pointing at the sky. “My love is stronger than the moon with eyes that shine like stars!”

Clearly unable to help himself, Husk let out a small laugh. “My angel marvels at my strength. Adores my battle scars.” Then, he dropped Angel directly into the water, snickering when the Shift sorcerer sputtered and glared at him.

Pentious slung Angel’s pack on his back, placing one hand over his heart. “I couldn’t care less what she wears or what she bites like.” He shot a mischievous grin at the Egg Bois. “It all depends on what she fights like!”

“Bombs!”

“Kicks!”

“Explosions, woo!”

As they kept moving, they passed a few farms where terraced rice paddies and golden wheat stretched out as far as the eye could see. Lush green fields cascaded down the hillsides, their emerald hues shimmering in the morning sunlight. Lotus ponds dotted the landscape while bamboo groves rustled in the breeze. Every now and then, they would wave to some of the Faustian citizens as they emerged to manage their farms and go about their day. More than once, Charlie found herself on the receiving end of giggles and a few cat calls.

Charlie felt an elbow at her side, causing golden runes to flicker to life. She turned to look at Husk, who gave her a smirk. “Bet the local boys thought you were quite the charmer.”

Angel smirked as he ran one slim finger down her armored arm. “And I’ll bet the ladies love a man in armor!” He yelped as Alastor’s armor sparked, burning the tip of said finger.

Behind her, she heard even more voices joining their little song, the entire unit clearly becoming more cheerful as they sang. “You can guess what we have missed the most since we went off to war!”

Angel laughed and put two arms up to his mouth, projecting his musical voice as far as he could. “What do we want?”

“A love worth fighting for!”

A few days passed. As their unit pressed onward, they entered the realm of the mist-shrouded mountains, where towering peaks pierced the sky. Waterfalls cascaded down sheer cliffs in silvery ribbons, their sparkling waters echoing through the silent valleys below. Clouds drifted lazily among the peaks, while rare orchids bloomed amidst the moss-covered rocks. Despite the tranquility in the air, the soldiers continued to sing.

“My angel loves all of my faults,” Husk said affectionately. He was now carrying both his and Angel’s packs, as well as a few Egg Bois on his head. Angel flushed and looked away, carding one hand through his hair.

Pentious had somehow managed to dig out a photo of a young woman smiling wildly as she held up a grenade. From the looks of the background, she had just blown up some sort of enemy cargo. “She’s always on my mind.”

The three of them looked towards Charlie, who let out a tiny squeak and immediately pointed to Vaggie. Their captain shot her a one-eyed glare, her own cheeks dusted pink. Then, her gaze slid over to the other three soldiers, who were fixing her with grins that exuded a very, very high amount of pressure. For a brief moment, they simply kept walking, a silent battle of wills. Then, Vaggie’s shoulder slumped. She bit her lip. Her eye shot back and forth between Charlie and the trio.

“Uh, my love’s a guy who’s got a brain. Who always speaks his mind.”

Husk, Pentious, and Angel exchanged looks. “Huh.”

Now that his curiosity seemed satisfied, Angel slipped his pack off of Husk’s back and sent the Gambit sorcerer a wink. “My sexy ways and turn of phrase are always thriller!”

Husk rolled his eyes. “He thinks he’s such a bedroom killer.”

As the days wore on, the unit soon passed the mountains and were now moving through verdant tea plantations, where rows of neatly trimmed bushes stretched out across the rolling hillsides. Farmers plucked tender tea leaves with practiced hands. The air was filled with the sweet scent of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the earthy aroma of the surrounding soil. Charlie had by now moved towards the back of the unit, where Alastor, Niffty, and Dazzle hid in the cargo cart. She glanced over at the two daemons, a tiny twinge of guilt coiling in her stomach. How long had it been since she last had tea with Rosie and her father? Since Alastor last had tea with Rosie and her father? Did he miss them as much as she did? It was sort of hard to tell. The little red cat was curled up on a pile of spears, ears twitching slightly as the sound of the soldiers whistling the tune reached him.

“I’ve got a soul back home who’s unlike any other.”

That line was so quiet, she almost missed it. Red eyes widened when she turned to look at Alastor, who shot her a narrow-eyed glare that just dared her to say anything to him. Luckily, she didn’t need to; Niffty let out a tiny giggle and flew up to sit on Charlie’s head in jewel beetle form.

“Yeah, the only soul who'd love him is your father!”

She sensed the danger alright. Both of them did. Giggling in sync, she and Niffty ran away from the cargo before Alastor could so much as think about pulling out a tentacle. They stayed near the front of the unit for the rest of the march, happily listening to everyone sing. Soon enough, the aroma of the tea plantations gave way to the sharp scent of pine, the area now filled with snow-capped trees. From the excited look on Vaggie’s face, it was quite clear that they were nearly to their goal.

“But when we come home in victory, they’ll line up at the door!”

Angel was now straight up being carried on Husk’s shoulders. He grinned as he materialized four additional arms and spread them wide. “What do we want?”

“A love worth fighting for!”

Those six arms now descended to rest on top of Husk - on his face and around his head. The look Angel gave him made Charlie’s heart flutter. Could she give someone that look one day? She certainly hoped so. Almost without her noticing, her gaze slid over to Vaggie, who had sped up her horse and was now riding ahead of them, face lined with a lovely combination of determination and excitement.

Angel’s smile softened. “So glad I have.”

“I love worth fighting for!”

The unit let out one more chorus of whistles.

“A love worth fighting-”

Chapter Text

Her mother was already dressed by the time she entered the room. The young girl met her steel gaze with a sheepish grin as she pulled a few stray leaves out of her hair. Afterwards, she placed the fishing pole and tackle container off to the side, trading them for a pair of ballet shoes and a fluffy white tutu. She stuck out her tongue as she used some extra twine to wind her hair into a tight bun. 

“You’re late, Vaggie,” her mother said, gentle amusement belying her quiet tones. 

“Sorry, Mom,” Vaggie said. She walked over to the other side of the room and stood facing her mother, their reflections shimmering in the polished mirror that adorned one wall. “Dad caught a really big one but we couldn’t fit it in the bucket. We had to figure out how to bring it home.”

Her mother raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You couldn’t have just let it go?”

She shook her head, grin widening. “Nope! He wanted to cook it for you, Odette, and Clara tonight. Said you guys’ll really love it.”

For the first time, the tiniest of smiles appeared on her mother’s face. “I see… Well then, I’ll let it go just this once. Just know that if it happens again, you’ll run six laps around the house.”

“Deal!”

Carmilla hit a button on the nearby radio. The gentle strains of classical music filled the air. Without a word, she turned to her daughter and gave her a deep curtsy, Vaggie copying the movement with a smile. Then, they began to dance in tandem, movements effortlessly elegant, their bodies bending and extending with practiced precision.

At first, the music started off simple and so did they - these were slow, deliberate movements highlighting their perfectly poised forms. Soon enough, the music began to swell, and their movements transformed with the music. Twirls, leaps, and waltz steps carried them across the dance floor now, the music becoming faster and faster, mirroring the beat of Vaggie’s heart. 

Just as she went in for one last dramatic twirl, she leaped out of the way just in time to avoid the sharp tip of the wooden practice spear. Gritting her teeth, she leaped out of the way again and again, sweeping her legs and arms so they stayed out of harm’s way. Eventually, Vaggie danced to the side of the room and grabbed her own wooden practice spear, now meeting her mother in a clash of polished wood against polished wood.

The dance had taken on a new rhythm now, one that was made by the clash of their weapons, by the sweep of their legs. Vaggie pursed her lips as she pivoted, narrowly avoiding her mother’s long leg as it sailed past her cheek, missing her by an inch. Without missing a beat, her spear came up and struck her mother in the ankle before she whirled and slammed the butt of her weapon into the general’s stomach. Carmilla let out a small exhale of surprise before she too pivoted, slamming her knee into Vaggie’s stomach.

The young girl groaned from where she sprawled on the ground, pain pulsing from the blow her mother delivered to her. As she sat up, she let out a disappointed exhale. Good, but not good enough. She hadn’t been able to even disarm her mother. Still, when a large, gentle hand was offered to her, she took it and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet in a strong grip. Carmilla was smiling at her, red and silver eyes sparkling with some unknowable emotion.

“Well, look at that. You might just survive the academy.” 

Vaggie’s eyes widened as the scene unfolded before her, as the army fell silent in the wake of the devastating sight. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the coppery smell of spilt blood. Charred remains of items, plants, and people littered the ground like the scattered ashes of a funeral pyre. Once-proud buildings now lay in ruin, their wooden frames reduced to smoldering embers amidst the rubble.

The snow beneath their feet was stained a horrible dark red, just a few shades darker than the armor Charlie wore. Bile rose in her throat as she took in the other bits and pieces of people nestled among the blood-stained snow - hair, teeth, bits of charred flesh, and even what looked horribly like squished organs. Behind her, she heard the sounds of dry heaving and retching. It took everything in her not to do the same.

Vaggie’s stomach turned as she continued walking, as the stench of burnt flesh grew stronger and stronger. The village square, no doubt once a bustling hub of activity, now lay deserted and desolate. Market stalls lay overturned, their wares looted and pillaged, while the remnants of household belongings lay strewn about haphazardly. The once vibrant colors of banners and tapestries had been reduced to ashen gray. There were hoofprints and footprints everywhere, the clear sign of an attack, then a counterattack, then a massacre.

Scorch marks marred the walls of whatever buildings still stood, golden magic curling like flames at the edges. Vaggie reached out and touched one of these marks, hissing as a thin tendril of gold burnt the tip of her fingers. Celestial magic. Manifestation. There were Angels and someone of Morningstar blood here.

Vaggie looked up and saw Charlie, who had moved to the furthest edge of the village, where the burnt remains of a gate stood. This would have led to the farms that fed its people and gave this village its livelihood. Gripping the shaft of her spear, she took a deep breath before walking over to her subordinate, watching as that golden hair fluttered in the copper-scented breeze.

Pure devastation unfolded beneath her gaze. Stretching out across the valley below lay the scar landscape of a battlefield. No… not a battlefield. A massacre. A bloody, pointless attack that scarred the landscape and gouged all life within it away. The ground was littered with the remnants of war - broken weapons, shattered armor, and the lifeless bodies of fallen soldiers scattered amongst the churned earth. Once again, bile rose up in Vaggie’s throat and this time, she could not hold it back. She gripped onto the nearest rock and dry-heaved towards the ground, tears running down her face as her chest and belly contorted in pain.

She descended into the valley now, her every step stilted. It was as though she were in a trance. Her single eye scanned the place, taking in the blackened banners that lay trampled in the mud, the bits of celestial steel that were scattered about and caked in dried blood. It was completely silent here - there were no cries of wounded soldiers, no screams of captured villagers, not even the sickening crunch of bone being broken or a spear being thrust through a chest. Somehow, the silence was even worse than the sounds of a battlefield. It meant that there was no soul left alive.

The sky above was dark and brooding, as if mourning the loss of life that had stained the land below. She slowed her steps, scanning the terrain to see if anyone she knew lay among the dead. Maybe this wasn’t the army. Maybe this was actually some other part of it that happened to get on the wrong end of an Angelic assault. Maybe-

Odette lay beneath her feet, mouth open in shock. Her blonde hair was a mess, tumbling on the ground and tangled up like a viper’s nest. Her eyes were wide, glassy, and empty. Her glasses lay shattered just a few feet away. Over her chest bloomed a dark red bloodstain, the clear remnants of being surprised by an angelic spear. Vaggie brought one hand up to her face, a wave of nausea going through her. She backed up from her sister’s corpse, only to trip over-

Clara’s head.

Clara’s sword.

But where was the rest of her body!?

Her heart pounded at the disgusting sight, at the way her sister’s head had been positioned to face Odette. Her face was nothing but a sickening mask of fear and shock. Had she been looking at Odette when she died? The thought was almost too much for the young captain to handle. Hot tears ran down her face as she reached out with trembling hands and closed her eyes. Then, she moved over to close Odette’s. Along the way, she picked up Odette’s glasses and Clara’s fallen sword.

She didn’t know her ruined eye could still cry.

Vaggie found Zestiel’s skeleton among the shriveled up corpses of numerous Angels, identified as such by the obsidian and green armor still clinging to his decayed form. Evidently, he had unleashed his own bloodline’s magic - Ensnare - to drain the life force of the approaching enemies. However, it seemed like someone very, very powerful among the Angelic forces was capable of reversing the magic onto him. Pain, sharp and merciless, stabbed her directly in her chest as she gazed at the man she once called father. Without a word, she reached out and took the black helmet off his head, its numerous emeralds gleaming up at her like eyes as she walked away from him, ignoring the sounds of his skull rolling off of his neck.

“Captain…”

Charlie.

Vaggie turned towards the red-clad soldier, still clutching the black helmet to her chest. The glasses and sword remained buckled to her belt. The King Consort’s Guard swallowed before pointing over to a tall black tree with a trembling hand. In the shadow of the tree sat the form of a woman, clad in beautiful black and silver armor.

No.

Vaggie’s feet moved before she could think. It was as though she was flying across the battlefield, though she had no wings to speak of. When she reached the tree, she knelt, placing Zestiel’s helmet to the side as she reached out and gently cupped the face of the woman before her.

General Carmine.

Carmilla.

Mother.

Carmilla’s face was ashen gray, even more so than usual. Her face was so gaunt she was almost corpse-like already. There was red all over her. It was as though someone had pierced every single weak point of her armor and left their mark, then decided to use a blow to shatter the armor and followed up with numerous blows until her chest and stomach were a canvas of red blood. When she opened her eyes, the red and silver in them was so dull that they looked almost glassy. She reached up and gently touched Vaggie’s hand with one of her own, her touch was a mere whisper.

“Vaggie,” her mother whispered, the musical notes in her voice now silenced. “You’ve come…” A tiny, weak smile. “You’re alright…”

Her heart seized at the sight. No. It shouldn’t be like this. Her mom shouldn’t be like this. Her dad shouldn’t be dead. Nor her sisters. It wasn’t supposed to end like this!

“Mom, I-”

“Hush now, we only have two minutes,” Carmilla interrupted, coughing. More red. A twitch of her once-perfect brow. “You remember what I’ve taught you, right? Angels… attack without mercy or warning. This is just another example of it.” She tilted her head ever so slightly towards the devastating scene. 

No.

“We have healers! We can get you to them! We can-”

“Don’t waste your time or your magical energy. You know that I’m too far gone,” Carmilla said quickly. “Ninety seconds. You must send a message to King Lucifer. Adam is the one leading the Angels. He’s looking forward to facing him and the Radio Daemon again.”

“Adam!? But-”

“Sixty seconds,” Carmilla said. “It will take days for the rest of the tiny battalions scattered around the place to come together. As of now, your unit is the largest one left in the army. This means you must take command… at least until the king chooses a new general. I’m so sorry to put this burden on you… You were never meant to see this sort of devastation so early in your military career.”

She was sobbing now, her chest clenching so tightly she could hardly breathe. Carmilla gave her a closed-lip smile, one thumb gently brushing away the tears that fell out of her ruined eye. Then, her mother moved her hand slightly, brushing her bangs back so she could look at both of Vaggie’s eyes - her clear hazel one and the scarred one. Her eyes crinkled and dimmed.

“Thirty seconds… Vaggie. You have made your father, sisters, and I so proud with all you have accomplished. Beyond just your military honors, you’ve grown into such a strong, admirable young woman. You will be the model for girls everywhere when this war ends.” Carmilla’s bottom lip trembled now as she seemingly found the strength to lift her other arm and gently pull Vaggie close so their foreheads touched. “I will be joining your father and sisters now. Just know that wherever you go, we will always be there with you in spirit. Live your life to the fullest… however you want. Just please, remember us. Remember how much Zestiel loves you. How much Odette loves you. How much Clara loves you. How much I love-”

She was gone.

They burned whatever bodies they could find on a makeshift funeral pyre, watching as the embers and ashes of their fallen comrades danced in the starry night sky before being borne away on the gentle breeze. Vaggie’s unit - the remnants of the Faustian army - stood in silence as the last embers died, as the final bit of smoke curled away. Charlie watched the flames sputter out, then turned around and walked away from her friends to the top of the hill, which overlooked the valley below.

Vaggie had stabbed her sister’s sword into the grass, then placed her father’s obsidian helmet on top of it. She had then gently placed her sister’s shattered glasses on top of the helmet and hung her mother’s earrings on the crossguard just beneath the helmet, where they would be protected from the elements. The captain looked up at Charlie’s approach, single eye dull, face swollen and ruddy from her tears. In her lap sat a pair of silver shoes, the sharp edges of the toes gleaming menacingly in the moonlight.

“Vaggie…” she sat down next to her captain, heart clenching at the sight. She reached out with one armored hand and touched Vaggie’s shoulder. “Are… How are you-”

Vaggie shook her head. “I… I’m not okay. I’m not okay, but I don’t have a choice, right?” She swallowed. “I… I’m leading the army now… at least until the king can find a new general. I gotta… I can’t sit here and mourn like this anymore. I have to do my duty. I have to-” a low, broken sob wracked through her. “I have to stop the Angels.”

A beat of silence. Another broken sob. Another gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

“What about you?”

Vaggie wiped at her face. “What about me?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

“What about… what Vaggie wants? Not Captain or General Vaggie. Just Vaggie?”

That sharp eye looked up at her, still shining silver with tears. “I-I… it doesn’t matter what I want. I need to put it aside for my duty.”

Another pause.

“Is… Is that what your family would’ve wanted for you?”

Another broken sob. “I-I… I don’t know. They’re dead. I can’t ask the-”

“What did your mom tell you?”

That seemed to strike a chord in the other woman. Vaggie’s lips parted, then closed. Then opened again. Another tear ran down her cheek. “I-I… I want-” she swallowed, then clutched those ballet shoes close to her chest. “I want… to bring these with me. I want to kill whoever did this to her - to them - using these. And then…” she let out a low, broken little laugh. “I want to go fly-fishing. When this is all over, I want to get a little boat a-and go fly-fishing on the nearest river…”

Charlie smiled, a tight, sad little thing. “Would you like me to send a message to the king?” Niffty was already spreading her little beetle wings, ready to fly to Alastor. 

Vaggie looked up at her and nodded. “Please. We need to move out now. We gotta get through Alighieri Pass.”

Adam laughed maniacally as he lifted that golden ax, celestial magic buzzing and crackling dangerously as he swung it over and over again at the red-clad figure before him. Alastor, swathed in his crimson armor, quickly stepped aside before pivoting on his back heel, his sword coming up for a thrust. Green runes appeared throughout the magical blade as black tendrils erupted from it and the ground around the Radio Daemon, ensnaring the wrist that held the ax. Adam sneered in response, one hand coming up and firing a celestial blast straight into Alastor’s chest. The Radio Daemon was sent flying back, his body protected from utter annihilation only by the golden runes Lucifer had inscribed in his armor. 

Alastor hissed as he dropped to one knee, the golden runes flaring up brightly before quickly flickering out. He would not survive the next blow if Lucifer didn’t re-inscribe the runes soon. But Adam was giving them no reprieve to do so.

“Alastor!” he said as he knelt down, one hand wreathed in white armor and gold flame coming up to at least reinforce some of the lost runes. “Shit, are you alright?”

Alastor smiled at him from under his helmet. “I’m simply doing peachy, sire! There’s absolutely no trouble at all. I’m only staring our imminent death in the face while you waste your time and magic on trying to reinforce useless little runes. That’s all! No issues otherwise!” 

“Touche,” Lucifer muttered. Adam was approaching them now, the golden lights of his mask gleaming maliciously as he began preparing another round of celestial magic. The golden ax in his hands glowed dangerously. “Got any bright ideas?”

“Undo the Bloodlines Seal,” Alastor said. Lucifer’s heart seized at those very words, an icy hand clenched around his lungs. “Let me hurt him.”

A beat of hesitation. A tremor of his hand. A fluttering of celestial magic. Bile rose in his throat. His mind raced with a million questions. Undo the Bloodlines Seal? Allow the Radio Daemon the ability to hurt those with Morningstar blood? Put his bloodline at risk? Put Charlotte at risk? 

No.

No no no no no.

He couldn’t do this.

He-

He couldn’t trust-

Adam was upon them now. How did he get here so fast? He didn’t have wings. He couldn’t just Manifest speed out of nowhere. Lucifer looked up in horror at the towering figure, searing the malicious grin of that mask inside his very soul. He saw the ax rise into the air. He saw it fall.

Then, he saw red.

Alastor didn’t make a sound as the ax sliced him, carving a path from just below his shoulder blade to his waist line. Droplets of red stained the snow beneath them. Alastor coughed. More red. A roar of static. Then, a horrible, decaying decrescendo. The Radio Daemon collapsed, tendrils of celestial magic attacking the gouge in his armor. He was going to die. If not from blood loss, then from the celestial magic - the magic of the Morningstar bloodline - poisoning him from the inside.

Lucifer’s despair was otherworldly, inhuman. It was as though a piece of his own soul was being ripped away, his heart torn into pieces. His scream shattered the air around them, tore a crack through Adam’s helm. The pieces of the black helmet fell away, revealing the snarling, corpse-like face behind it. When gold met red, bloodlust surged behind Adam’s eyes, the Angel grinning maniacally as he lifted his ax to swing once more. 

He should’ve destroyed that seal.

He should’ve taken that blow.

He should’ve trusted his daemon.

Fury rose within him like a storm, creating an inferno that raced through every part of his being. His celestial core thrashed against his soul, magic flaring brighter than anything he had ever felt before. Immense power surged within him, his very essence shifting and transforming, vibrating with a potential that defied everything he had known about his bloodline’s magic.

With each pulse of power, wisps of luminescent energy coalesced around him, weaving together in intricate patterns that mirrored the celestial tapestry above. These shimmering threads of light intertwined and swirled, forming a framework from which his Manifestation would take shape. As the energy gathered, it condensed into a dazzling array of feathers, each one sculpted from pure radiance and imbued with the essence of divine grace. With each beat of his heart, the wings grew stronger and more defined, until the King of Faustus stood there with six beautiful luminescent wings.

What happened next was a blur. He flew at Adam and met him head-on, pulling Alastor’s sword from his grip. He Manifested his own flaming blade in his other hand, the three weapons meeting in a terrible clash that sent the ringing of steel all across the clearing. For what seemed like hours, the two combatants were locked in a complete stalemate - every time Adam swung, Lucifer flew back. Every time Lucifer tried to strike from any angle, Adam would just dodge or bat his blades away. 

Lucifer was exhausted. Manifesting these wings had drained his magical energy. Soon enough, he was going to slip. And then after that? His kingdom, his people, his daughter would be left at the mercy of the Angels. He should’ve done better. He should’ve destroyed that seal. He should’ve trusted his daemon.

Adam reared back for one last strike, face twisted into a mask of pure rage. As the ax came down upon him, Lucifer lifted his blades again for a parry he knew would do nothing to stop his own death-

A shadowy tendril launched itself from the ground, wrapping itself around Adam’s wrists. Without missing a beat, Lucifer stepped forward and thrust his sword through Adam’s chest, sneering in delight as golden blood splattered his face. Adam’s scream pierced the night sky as he collapsed, his ax tumbling from limp fingers. Laughing, Lucifer reared back with Alastor’s blade, preparing to stab again.

“NO!”

Alastor’s sword sliced through the body of the young woman before him cleaving through her flesh with a sickening squelch.  The moment the cursed sword pierced her core, black tendrils emerged from it to grab at the glowing magic. In the reflection of the blade, Lucifer watched as Alastor’s eyes went black, as those red radio dials began swinging wildly. 

The high-pitched whine of frequency filled the air, followed by a torrential downpour of static. A blast of powerful infernal magic sent Lucifer flying back, his hands losing their grip on Alastor’s sword. He slammed into a tree next to the Radio Daemon, hissing in pain as he slid down. Alastor’s grin was downright maniacal now as he commanded his tendrils to come closer, to bring him his ultimate prize.

He should stop this. This was a fate worse than death.

But he needed to protect Faustus.

He needed to protect Alastor.

He needed to protect Charlotte.

“EVE!”

Adam’s voice shattered like glass as an otherworldly scream echoed across the clearing. Alastor’s tentacles had ripped out her glowing red core. Lucifer watched, refusing to look away as he brought the glowing power to his jaw and bit down. A wave of nausea flooded through him. One bite. Two. Three.

It was gone.

Eve was writhing now, her entire form contorting and twisting as her very essence was banished from the world. Thin, needle-like shadows poured out of her like blood as a million wounds opened all across her skin. Adam was screaming too, clawing at his stab wound as light poured from it. This was the death of a daemon. The end of a Daemon’s Pact. From now on, Adam would be severely weakened - weak enough to hopefully never even think of appearing here again.

There were much more important things to attend to. He turned to face Alastor. The Radio Daemon was absolutely corpse-like now, red-clawed hand trembling as the fresh wound began to knit itself shut. Lucifer let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. This was good; Eve’s core would prevent the celestial magic from further poisoning Alastor, and hopefully soon enough the wound would scar over and heal. They could move on after that. Rebuild the kingdom. Discuss the future. Maybe even take a vacation. Alastor smiled shakily up at him - gently, warmly, beautifully-

He jolted awake with a shout, cold sweat beading on his brow. He looked around rapidly, then felt his back. Rubber ducks everywhere. A map on a nearby table. Apple cores in the trash can. No wings.

A gentle knock at his door.

“Your Majesty?”

That was Rosie’s voice. Lucifer swallowed. “Yeah, come in.”

The door opened. The tall, silk robe clad form of his executioner and Charlotte’s governess entered the room, her face bathed in the light of the candle she carried. She let out an elegant yawn. “Sorry for interrupting, dear. I heard a shout and was worried you were Manifesting again.”

Lucifer swallowed. “No. I wasn’t. I just-” another swallow. “After that message from Al, I…” he trailed off.

Rosie gave him a worried look, her brow furrowing. “No need to look so glum, darlin’. I understand. It’s… difficult to learn that he’s still alive.”

His chest clenched at the thought, Adam’s sneering face flashing before his eyes. He squeezed them shut and opened them again. Another inhale. Another exhale. Another silent plea that this was all just another layer of his nightmare. “I-I… well. I can’t change anything now. All we can do is hope that he’s still weak from the last time… and that whatever bit of army we have left holds up.”

Rosie gave him a small smile. “That’s the spirit! As long as Captain Madrigal’s unit is alive, we still have hope yet.” Then, she paused, carding one hand through her snow white hair. “Tell me what I can do for you. Do you need anything to help you sleep?”

Yes. He needed a shadow curled around his soul. A claw pressed over his heart. A gleeful cackle in his mind. The gentle lullaby of a radio. The intense red gaze of his daemon. 

“... Nothing that you can do for me,” he said quietly, pressing himself back against the pillows. “Just close the door on your way out.” A pause. “Please.”

Rosie hummed. Then, she stood up and made her way to the door. One slim hand came up and touched the handle as she left. Then, she paused, regarding him with those dark eyes. “Your Majesty, may I speak freely?”

A pause. “Uh… sure?”

A gentle smile lit up the executioner’s features. “Your daughter has proven to be quite the capable warrior. I think it calls for a celebration once this is all over, don’t you?”

He grinned despite the shot of confusion going through him. “Definitely! We can throw a feast, or-”

“A feast? Now, now, Your Majesty, you could do better than that!” her smile widened, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “She isn’t just a princess anymore, right? She’s the King Consort’s guard now! You’ll need to throw her an extra special celebration!”

“...... A double feast?”

Rosie gave him a gentle twitch of her eyes, which he took to be an eye roll. “You’ll need more than just a feast if you’re going to celebrate her properly, Your Majesty. After all…” She winked. “Can’t celebrate the deeds of a King Consort’s guard if you don’t even have a King Consort yet.”

A beat of silence. A flush of warmth. Then, a low wheeze.

“I…… We……”

Rosie laughed, a high, tinkling sound. “Don’t you worry your little kingly head! I’ll make sure everything around here runs smoothly while you’re planning the best way to ask him.” Then, she was gone, his door clicking shut behind her.

Alighieri Pass lay in the heart of the mountain range, nestled between two towering peaks draped with snow and ice. It cut through the jagged cliffs like a narrow corridor carved by ancient glaciers. The air within it was crisp and biting, filled with the sharp scent of frost and the faint whisper of icy winds that howled through the rocky crevices. As the little army marched through, it took everything they had not to slip on the thick layer of snow that blanketed the ground.

Charlie looked around nervously as they walked, staring at the massive icicles that hang precariously from the rocky formation, glinting in the pale light of the sun. It was said that the pass was fraught with danger at every turn, with treacherous avalanches threatening to cascade down the steep slopes and hidden crevices lurking beneath the frozen surface, ready to swallow any who misstepped. She was normally never one to put stock into such legends, but there was no denying that there was a deadly, ice-cold beauty to this pass, the sort that could draw one in like a siren’s song before dashing that person against the rocks.

All they needed to do was get through the pass, then they would be in the Capital City. They would be able to reinforce the palace and get new instructions from Lucifer. Charlie swallowed, unable to help the curl of dread settling in her stomach. If she went home now, Lucifer would surely recognize her. He would probably ask that she come home… and maybe even reveal who she really was. She didn’t want any of that! Not yet… not when there was still so much she could do for her people and this war. 

A bright flash appeared in the corner of her eye. Charlie whipped her head towards it, squinting at the side of the mountain. Was that a chunk of ice glinting in the sun? She frowned as she squinted a bit harder. No… wait a minute. Ice wouldn’t be glinting that rhythmically. Or that brightly. In fact, it didn’t look like a part of the natural surroundings at all. It looked just like-

A signaling mirror.

Shit.

“Take cover!” Vaggie shouted.

The thrum of hundreds of bows rang through the air as the sky darkened with arrows. Charlie dove away, hissing as she felt the arrows bounce off of Alastor’s armor. The golden runes glowed brightly as she moved, easily disintegrating any arrowhead aimed for her joints. She rolled behind the weapons cart and donned the helmet, the curled horns gleaming menacingly as she stepped out from behind her cover.

“Shields!” Vaggie ordered. Immediately, the recruits formed a tight line, shields raised over their heads and directly in front of them. As the arrows rained down on them, they bounced off uselessly against the iron wall. “Cannons! Husker! Dust! You’re up!”

Angel stepped forward, smirking as he unslung his bows from his shoulder. Husk stood as well, smirking as he began pulling arrows from his quiver. The Shift sorcerer immediately grew additional arms, until he was able to wield three bows at once. Soon enough, he was firing Gambit-powered arrows at the mountainside, the small explosions echoing off the sheer cliffs as the projectiles found their marks. Explosions of dust and debris erupted along the rocky slopes as a few other members of hteir army - those gifted with the ability to fire concussive blasts - joined in, sending plumes of smoke and rubble cascading down into the valley below. After a few minutes of firing, they stopped, watching with bated breath as the Angels previously dotted along the mountainside disappeared.

Ten seconds of silence passed.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Sixty.

Thirty more.

“Is it over?” Charlie asked. As if in answer, Alastor emerged from the shadows of the weapons cargo in his daemonic form. He was holding his cane today, both hands folded on top of it. Niffty skittered nervously around her soul. Alastor’s ears stood on end, twitching every which way. Then, they flattened against his scalp, his eyes narrowing. The clawed hands sitting atop his cane gripped it so tightly it creaked in distress.

“No.”

No…?

“What do you-”

The high, pure note of a solitary warhorn pierced the cold air, its mournful cry echoing across the frozen landscape. The sound reverberated through the valley, stirring fear in the hearts of all who heard it, as if announcing the arrival of an unstoppable force. Charlie’s own chest clenched as she turned to the source of the noise. The Angelic army emerged from the swirling mists of the mountains, their figures obscured by the thick veil of snow and fog that enveloped jagged peaks. Clad in dark armor that gleamed ominously in the pale light, they rode forth without hesitation, their steeds stomping and snorting impatiently in the freezing cold.

At the head of the charge was a large, imposing figure clad in gleaming gold armor. He laughed maniacally as he swung a golden battle ax. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alastor freeze, red eyes growing wide as he regarded the huge figure leading the charge. Next, he whirled on her, offering her one hand.

“We need to leave.”

Charlie blinked. “What? Why?”

The Radio Daemon let out a snarl. “No time to explain, I’m afraid. All you need to know is that if Adam sees you in this armor, you will be begging me for death in no time at all.” Long claws tapped at the top of his cane, impatience settling in. “Take my hand, Charlie dear. I’ll lead you to safety.”

She grit her teeth. “No! I’m not just going to leave my people here to die!”

“You’ll be joining them if you don’t leave now,” Alastor said. “Come. I’m taking you back to the palace. It will not do for the Heir of the Throne to die here.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

She drew his sword. “I’m standing and fighting, Alastor. If I die, then I die with honor.”

Alastor teleported in front of her when she turned to leave. He wasn’t smiling. “Now, now… is this any way to act after stealing my armor and running off to play hero?” He gripped his cane in one hand as he advanced on her. Niffty buzzed angrily deep in her soul. Black tendrils appeared from the ground and the Radio Daemon’s back, ready to bind her and drag her back home to a lonely ivory tower. “After sending your father down a spiral of worry and dooming the kingdom you supposedly love? What was all of this again about duty? Isn’t it your duty to inherit the throne? How can you possibly do that if you’re dead?”

She couldn’t go home with him. She had to do something. If she left now, then everyone here would die. Faustus would have even less troops than they already did. Angel, Husk, Pentious… Vaggie. She needed to make sure they all went home. She needed to make sure she and Vaggie could go fly-fishing, just like they planned…!

A beautiful gleam caught her eye. In the reflective surface of Alastor’s sword, she saw the snow-capped mountains mirrored back at her, their jagged peaks stretching towards the heavens. There was a power in them, an untapped potential just waiting to be unleashed. In the next second, her eyes fell to the cane in Alastor’s hand, the faintest flutter of a memory about the cane combined with her armor rising to the surface.

She knew what she had to do.

“Niffty!”

The little daemon emerged from her shadow in the blink of an eye, laughing maniacally as she launched herself at the Radio Daemon. As his tentacles moved to intercept her, Charlie rushed forward, aiming a powerful elbow strike to his left side where she knew his wound was. Alastor’s shout of pain died in his throat as he collapsed, the radio cane falling from weakened fingers.In the next moment, Charlie sheathed his sword, charged, and grabbed the cane, kicking up snow and dust as she ran up the mountain.

“Whoa, Stutters!?”

“Kid!?”

“What are you doing!?”

“Wait!” Vaggie’s voice pierced the din, somehow louder in her ears than the thundering hooves. “Get back here!”

Those cries fell on deaf ears. Charlie gritted her teeth as she ran directly in the path of Adam’s horse and raised the cane above her head, eyeing the icy mountains above. For a brief moment, time froze. Adam’s golden eyes widened as he eyed her up and down. Charlie watched as, almost in slow motion, that wild look of glee gave way first to confusion, then sorrow, then absolute fury.

“YOU!” he reared back his ax, kicking his heels even deeper into the flanks of his horse as it charged at her even faster. “I’ve been waiting for this, Alastor!” A maniacal laugh split the air. “This is for Eve!”

She brought the cane down.

The microphone screeched with ear-splitting feedback, its piercing sound reverberating through the area. As the noise grew in intensity, it built to a crescendo of discordant echoes that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth. Adam’s horse froze, rearing back slightly in response to the noise as the man tried to regain control of his steed.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint rumbling began, one that quickly grew into a deafening roar. The icy slopes of the mountains began trembling. The snow began to shift and cascade down, gathering momentum with each passing moment. Then, it erupted into a full-blown avalanche, a relentless torrent of snow and ice that swept everything in its path. Suddenly, the mountainside came alive with movement, the ground shaking beneath her feet as the deadly wave of snow thundered down towards the Angelic army below.

Victory.

Charlie grinned wildly beneath Alastor’s mask, watching as Adam whirled around and stared at the oncoming avalanche in horror. Already, the Angelic army was in complete disarray as the fighters realized the magnitude of the catastrophe unfolding around them. Soon, panic set in as they struggled to escape the cascading wall of ice and snow that threatened to swallow them whole. Warriors on horseback were thrown from their mounts as the ground beneath them gave way, their cries of terror drowned out by the avalanche’s deafening roar. Once on the ground, any attempts to outrun the oncoming deluge were rendered futile as the relentless tide of destruction swept them away completely.

“Alastor!” Adam whirled on her now, eyes blazing beneath his helm. “You fucking piece of shit!” He raised his ax. “DIE!”

The ax came down on her before she could react. She cried out, the runes on Alastor’s armor glowing intensely as they absorbed the blow. Adrenaline and wind rushed through her veins as she whirled around and began running down the hill, the dying wail of Adam’s horse ringing in her ears as the avalanche swallowed both rider and beast whole. 

One hand came to her left side. Wet. Very, very wet. When she pulled it away, Alastor’s gauntlet hand was absolutely covered in blood. Shit. She would probably need stitches from this. Maybe some blood. God, where was Niffty? Where was Alastor? Where-

The rumble of the avalanche was nearly upon her now. This was how she was going to die, wasn’t it? Just like that?

“Charlie!”

“Vaggie?”

A strong arm and shoulder looped around her. A beautiful eye grinned up at her. What was Vaggie doing here? Where was her horse? Why wasn’t she taking cover?

The avalanche was here.

The ground crumbled beneath their feet as the two of them desperately scrambled for higher ground. Charlie could feel her captain’s heart pounding in her chest, fear shooting through her as they fought against the oncoming deluge. Why wasn’t Vaggie leaving her and running? Why did Vaggie come after her? Vaggie might die. Vaggie can’t die. The kingdom needed her. Charlie needed her. 

With a sickening lurch, the ground beneath them gave way. They were tumbling now, locked in an embrace, right off a cliff at the edge of the valley. Small drops - tears? - appeared on Charlie’s neck as Vaggie buried her face there. She… smelled like blooming magnolias and apple blossoms. Home.

There were jagged rocks winking up at them, sticking out of the churning waters below. Charlie grit her teeth, shaking blurriness from her own vision as she clutched the woman in her arms close and turned them around, so her own back faced the rocks. If she couldn’t save herself, at least let her save Vaggie. At least let Vaggie go fly-fishing again-

Something beautiful and warm began glowing somewhere inside her. Charlie’s eyes widened as one armored hand trailed down Vaggie’s back, then into a hidden compartment of Alastor’s armor. He used to keep snacks for her dad in here - he tended to get whiny when he was too hungry. Charlie didn’t have snacks, but she did keep something else: a tiny shard of Grace.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Her fingertips buzzed. Magic power unfurled from her core. Celestial power flared through her veins. Golden tendrils trickled out of her fingertips and traveled towards Vaggie’s shoulder blades. Focusing every single bit of clear thought she had left, Charlie closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could. The air around them surged with energy, pure potential bending to her will. An otherworldly light surrounded them as she closed her eyes and squeezed the shard, crushing it into dust. Then, she whispered a Word.

“Manifest.”

A gasp. A rush of wind. A flare of bloodline magic. Then, the flap of beautiful silver wings. They were rising now into the open sky, a sense of weightlessness washing over them as currents of magic surrounded them. With each powerful stroke, Vaggie’s wings sliced through the air with effortless grace, propelling them higher and higher into the boundless expanse above. The world below stretched out in all its breathtaking splendor, a blanket of pure white spilling snowy waterfalls down the side of the mountain cliffs. They soared for just a few moments more before Vaggie landed them gently in front of the army, her wings folding and disappearing in a shower of stardust. 

They did it. They were alive. Charlie turned to grin at her captain, only to instead be met by a truly horrified look. A million different emotions flickered behind her eye as Vaggie took a few steps back, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, her face ashen gray and horrified. Blinking in confusion, Charlie caught Alastor’s eye, who was leaning against the weapons cargo, still clutching at his left side. He looked away. A vice squeezed on her soul as she looked at Niffty, watching as the little daemon broke out into loud sobs.

She looked at the rest of the unit. Everyone was staring at her. Horrified. Betrayed. Afraid. One by one, they lowered their gaze. One by one, they knelt before her.

No.

No, no, no, no no.

“All hail! Princess Charlotte of Faustus!”

Chapter Text

Charlotte.

Princess Charlotte.

Crown Princess Charlotte of Faustus.

She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh, cry, puke, or stab someone. Maybe all four. Especially the stab part. Fuck. 

Charlie… was not Charlie at all. He wasn’t even a guy. Charlie was Charlotte. A girl. A princess. 

A liar.

Every word they had shared, every moment they had spent together… How much of it was pure deception? How much of it was some sick, cruel joke? She couldn’t even begin to describe the horrible storm clashing within her, the gaping wound in her heart that threatened to consume her whole. Charlie hadn’t just lied about her identity, but about her very essence. Her soul. 

Oh God, what if she had died?

The healers were done looking after her now, their faces tight and ashen as they moved away from her. Of course they were. Their Crown Princess had tumbled off a fucking cliff. They had let her run into battle against a hoard of Angels. She could’ve fucking died.

Thankfully, the Radio Daemon’s armor - at least, that’s what she assumed it was - had absorbed most of the blow. The princess was injured, but alive. She would be weakened for now, but not nearly as much as she would have been had she not been a Morningstar. All in all, they had all been incredibly lucky that Charlie had been able to Manifest wings at the last second. Otherwise… there was no telling what her father and his daemon would do to them.

"Soldiers, pack it up!" Damn it, her traitorous voice cracked. Her new wings brushed oddly against her back as she moved, then melted away the moment she thought about how annoying they were. "We're moving out in exactly 30 seconds! Any stragglers will be left behind."

The ragtag army sprang into action, scrambling to gather what remained of their battered weapons and armor. Among them, Charlie - no, Princess Charlotte - scrambled to her feet to assist. Vaggie clenched her jaw, halting the princess with a firm outstretched hand. She couldn't allow this woman to endanger herself or her soldiers.

"Not you, Princess," Vaggie said, her tone colder, firmer, and more miserable than ever. "This is no place for royalty. You belong safe at home."

The princess frowned. “Vaggie, I-”

“Don’t,” Vaggie cut in sharply, her steps quickening as she turned away from the princess, her jaw clenched with simmering anger. “Just… don’t.”

Charlie's voice trembled with regret. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, her words barely audible. "I'm sorry I lied to you - to everyone. I-I just... I wanted to help my people. I wanted to-"

“Do your duty? All that bullshit you’ve been mouthing off since you got here?” Pressure built behind her eyes as she approached her horse. “Are you insane? You’re the heir to the throne! You could’ve been killed out there if we weren’t careful. I could’ve gotten you killed!”

Charlie approached her now and reached out, her hand trembling as she gently touched Vaggie's arm. The captain recoiled at the touch. It was like she had been burned. "I never meant to put you or anyone in the kingdom in danger," she murmured, her voice filled with regret. "I just couldn't stand by and watch my people suffer while I stayed in the ivory tower. I had to do something, anything, to help them. But I never wanted to hurt Faustus. I never wanted to hurt you." Her voice cracked with emotion as she met Vaggie's gaze. "Please, Vaggie. Please forgive me."

Vaggie's steps faltered for a moment, her heart clenching at Charlie's words. She turned to face the princess. "Charlie, you can't..." Her voice trailed off. "You can’t keep marching with us. If you do, you’ll end up just like my sisters. My parents. I-I… I can’t let that happen.” 

“Please, if you could just trust me, I-”

She grit her teeth. “Trust you? You lied to me, Charlie! You lied to the army! I just… I looked up to you! I trusted you!" The tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she struggled to comprehend the depth of her feelings. "I..." She choked on the words, her voice barely a whisper. "I…”

The three words died on her tongue, just like so many other things she wished she had said to her family before they left her forever.

Vaggie's breath came in ragged gasps as she stood there, her heart seizing in her chest, her emotions swirling like a storm inside her. Fuck, what would her family think of her now? They must be disappointed. She was weak. She had failed them. She had almost gotten the fucking Crown Princess killed.  

Charlie's hand reached out for her again, and Vaggie flinched away, unable to bear the touch. The princess’ beautiful rose petal lips were parted. Her eyes were alight with a quiet determination. She was going to say something lovely and comforting and inspirational again.

She needed to leave.

“All troops, move out!” Vaggie grabbed the bag holding her mother’s razor-sharp ballet shoes and clutched it to her chest. It was the only thing keeping the fragile threads of her existence teetered to this world now. “We’re going to the Imperial Palace!” 

“Wait!” the princess shouted. She ran towards Vaggie, slipping in the snow. “I’ll come home with you then! Please, I-”

Vaggie looked away and mounted her horse. But before they could depart, Angel Dust darted forward, six arms raised in protest as he positioned himself in front of her horse. The beast snorted and pawed the ground in irritation. "Hold on a sec!" Angel Dust exclaimed. "She just saved our hides! We can't just leave her here!"

“She’ll be fine, Dust,” Vaggie said. She gestured to the Radio Daemon, who stood straight and tall with both hands behind his back. His red eyes narrowed at her gesture, ears flattening against his head. “She has him, his sword, and his armor. It’ll be much safer for her to just go home with him than it would be with us.”

Husk stepped forward now, the Gambit sorcerer’s brown knitted in concern. “Listen, Captain-”

"Enough!" Vaggie's voice cracked like a whip, her wings unfurling with a burst of celestial energy. They faded against just as quickly. "Any more dissent and you'll be going home alone. Move out! Our priority is meeting with King Lucifer!"

Without a single glance back, she and the army disappeared down the path, leaving behind nothing but a swirl of snow and the devastated princess.

Lucifer had to hand it to Adam: he had actually grown at least half a brain since they had last seen each other. Using the bulk of his army to distract Zestiel and Carmilla while a much smaller force led by his lieutenant went for the castle? Capturing and imprisoning Rosie while she was distracted trying to clean up another Manifested nightmare? Forcing him out of said nightmare, causing him to be disoriented and a bit weak from the shock of waking up? Yeah, even he had to give credit to the guy for that move.  

At this moment, all the King of Faustus knew was agony - White-hot, desperate, excruciating agony. Lucifer’s scream tore through the air, his sword clattering to the ground as his chest tightened like a vice. He groaned, barely able to focus through his blurred vision on the sneering figure of Adam’s lieutenant. She was relishing in his suffering, her taunting laughter piercing through the veil of agony.

“Like it?” the woman’s cruel voice cut through him like a knife. “A lot’s changed since you last fought us. We learned a few new little magic tricks. Figured out ways to make sure your pesky magic wouldn’t give us any problems.” 

The spear plunged even deeper into his chest. He fought to draw breath. Golden magic began draining from him as his core desperately tried to mend his shattered body. It was being used up too quickly. At this rate, he was going to be drained. It would take days, weeks, maybe even months to achieve his full power again.

The lieutenant’s words cut through the fog. “You’re lucky Adam wants you alive until he gets here. If it were me, I’d rip out your core right now.” Her boot collided with his chest as she yanked out the spear, sending another shockwave of agony rippling through him. “So how ‘bout you call your daemon? Make my job easier.”

Images of Alastor laughing maniacally while he ate bits and pieces of Mind, of him grinning maliciously while holding their foes at bay, and of him humming while gardening flashed before him. All he needed to do was reach out through the ever-present palace radios and summon him. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do it. Alastor wouldn’t be able to stop this on his own, but he could almost certainly hold them at bay long enough for Lucifer to get away-

But Alastor was somewhere out there protecting Charlotte - no. Charlie. Charlie, Faustus’ last hope. If Lucifer called him into this blood-soaked nightmare, he would put Charlie in danger. He would put Alastor in danger. The very thought that made his stomach twist, bile rising in his throat. 

He couldn’t do this to them.

Lucifer clenched his fists. Already, he could feel his magic reaching out towards the radio waves, his subconscious desperate to hear and feel Alastor’s presence again. No. He had to stop this. He had to make sure that Alastor and Charlie stayed alive-!

He summoned the last shreds of his waning power. Celestial magic surged through him, coursing through every corridor of the castle like a tidal wave. In a resounding crash, the radios scattered throughout the place shattered into pieces, their signals abruptly cut off. Searing pain shot through him once more, the King of Faustus wavering as his vision went black.

The castle fell silent.

Charlie didn’t realize until now just how cold the world could be. 

Before, everything had been warm. Rosie had kept the fires in the castle going whenever winter hit, and her father was never too far away with a mug of hot apple cider or hot chocolate to brighten her day. Even when she ran from home and joined the army, there was still a little bit of warmth around her - laughing with her three friends by the fire pits, training with Vaggie until both of them were covered in sweat, and eating hot shared meals with her comrades as they talked about their hometowns, their families, and their dreams. But all of that was gone now. Now all Charlie had were her daemons, her lies, and the endless expanse of snow around her.

As she sat by the small fire that Dazzle made for her, Charlie couldn't shake the chill that had settled in her bones. It was a cold that seeped into her very soul, leaving her feeling hollow and alone. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold onto whatever warmth she could find, but it was no use. The cold seemed to penetrate every inch of her being, leaving her feeling numb and empty. Next to her, Niffty huddled up close to Alastor, who took off his jacket and draped it over her, his left eye twitching just a bit as he too was exposed to the cold. Their breaths came out in tiny puffs of steam. Charlie felt a pang of guilt in her chest knowing that she had dragged them into this mess, that her own selfish actions had led them here.

"I'm so sorry, Charlie," Niffty murmured, her usually cheerful demeanor tinged with concern. She walked over to the princess, Alastor’s coat dragging behind her as she wrapped it tightly around her little body. "That was… really bad of them for leaving you like this."

Charlie managed a weak smile, grateful for her support but unable to shake the weight of betrayal and fear that clung to her. "Thanks, Niffty," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I’m just sorry that we ended up here..." She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I shouldn’t have ever left home. I’m… I’m a horrible daughter.”

Niffty plopped down behind her and cuddled close, the little daemon shivering under the blood red coat. Without missing a beat, Charlie reached out and picked her up, enveloping her in a hug. Alastor’s armor was likely freezing now - but it was all she had. Emotionally compromised as she was, she doubted she could even Manifest fire at this point without hurting something or someone.

A soft, warm body nuzzled at her neck. Charlie turned and found herself face to face with Dazzle, the little dragon having abandoned the glamor that had disguised him as a goat. He huddled close to the two, his natural heat radiating gently off him. Charlie smiled ever so slightly as the icy cold left her body, despite the deep, empty pit in her heart where Vaggie’s words had twisted like a knife.

“You left to save Alastor and your dad though, right?” Niffty asked after a beat of silence. She smiled up at the princess, single great eye wide and shimmering with tiny frozen tears. “So that’s something. You were a good daughter.”

Charlie shook her head. “I… Maybe I didn’t go for them.” Somewhere off to the side, she heard the slightest buzz and pop of radio static but didn’t bother looking. Alastor probably had the smuggest shit-eating grin on his face. Her heart clenched at the thought of it. No, she wasn’t going to look. She wouldn’t be able to take it. “Maybe I went because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do something as the princess. That I could change the way things worked in this world even though I had spent my whole life just… holed up in my tower. That when I finally sat on the throne and looked over my people, I’d feel like I was actually worthy of it.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. “But I was wrong. All I see is a child. Someone who isn’t worthy of the throne or my people. All I see is nothing.”

Silence. Then, the crunching of snow. A shadow passed over her. Charlie watched, eyes downcast, as a black-clad knee knelt before her. Then, she blinked in surprise as a pair of red-tipped claws gently reached out and took her hand. When she looked up, she saw a shock of red hair, clear dark skin, and sharp red eyes. 

Glowing green magic began to circle around her arm, moving until it covered every inch of his armor. Bit by bit, piece by piece, it transformed, the previously loose fittings now snug against her body. Charlie blinked in confusion. The armor no longer seemed to be too big for her. Next to her, the helmet seemed to have shrunk a bit as well. It was as though it had been made just for her.

“Perhaps the reason why you see a child is because the armor wasn’t fitted to you just yet,” Alastor said quietly. When he looked her in the eye, his ever-present smile widened just a touch. “Your father looked like one too until I fixed up his armor so it fit him better. Only then did he look like the warrior he had already proven himself to be.”

She hesitated. “Alastor, this is-”

“Your armor, Charlie,” he said simply. Then, he stood, summoning his radio-topped cane from somewhere in the snowbank, giving it a rather flashy experimental spin. “An armor worthy of the warrior who slaughtered a thousand angels. Despite how many low blows you’ve dealt me, that was quite the treat to watch!”

Charlie blinked. Then, she looked down at the crimson armor, flexing her fingers experimentally. Unlike before, not a single piece of it threatened to fall off, none of the metal bits rubbed at her skin in strange ways. Everything seemed to fit perfectly, as if it had been crafted specifically for her. Everything felt… right.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Well… she’d have to face everyone sooner or later. Her father in shame. Vaggie as a liar. Her people as a failure. Might as well rip the bandage.

“Alastor… I’m ready to head home.”

As her words echoed through the icy air, the Radio Daemon's smile softened just a touch, his grip on the cane tightening ever so slightly. The static surrounding him crackled with anticipation, almost as though it were excited to go home. He turned to face the small portable radio that Pentious had left for them to assist them with returning home.

"Are you absolutely certain about that, Charlie? You would be-" His words caught in his throat, crimson eyes widening in alarm.

Charlie followed his gaze, her frown deepening as she spotted the imposing figure emerging from the snow bank, adorned in gleaming gold. Adam, with his battle ax in hand, struggled free, his pale face contorted with rage beneath his shattered mask. Beside him, a woman emerged, her silver hair matted and tousled from the avalanche. More dark-armored Exorcists joined their ranks. There were far, far less of them compared to the formidable army from before, but the sight was absolutely horrible nonetheless. As long as there was one single Exorcist alive, they posed a threat to Faustus. To her kingdom. 

A chill raced down Charlie's spine, her heart quickening its pace in her chest. Niffty tensed beside her, fear palpable in her widened eye. Even Alastor mirrored their astonishment, his expression a rare display of shock.

This was bad.

This was very, very bad.

Charlie's chest tightened with dread as she watched the Exorcists stalk away at truly inhuman speed, their palpable fury leaving a trail of foreboding in their wake. At the speed they were going, they were going to reach their destination before Charlie could even think about mounting Dazzle. They were heading straight for the Imperial City, where only Vaggie's small troupe stood as the last line of defense. The realization hit her like a sword - if she didn't intervene, there would be a massacre, a tragedy of unimaginable proportions.

“Alastor,” Charlie said, whirling on the Radio Daemon. “Teleport us back, now! We have to warn Dad!”

Alastor nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration as he attempted to delve into the depths of the radio waves. But just as his fingers hovered inches from Charlie and Niffty, he froze, a look of utter horror etched across his features. The static buzzed around him like a raging storm, its frequency whining and swinging wildly as though unable to find its anchor.

Then, he doubled over, his entire form flickering and glitching like a malfunctioning transmission. His cane dropped to the snow and faded away, his power too weak to keep it materialized. "Alastor!?" Niffty's voice quivered with panic as she darted to his side, her tiny hands fluttering anxiously around him. "Alastor, what's happening!?"

Alastor's breathing grew ragged, his words strained as he fought to maintain his composure. "Don't know…" he managed to gasp out, his voice distorted by the strain. "Something blocking me… Can't sense Lucifer-" He paled, clawed hand flying up to his mouth as he began to cough. When he removed his hand, it was tinged with streaks of dark red. 

“He’s hurt.”

Desperation seeped into his voice, sending a chill down Charlie’s spine. Alastor, usually so composed and in control, was now teetering on the brink of panic. It was as if a piece of his own soul had been ripped away from him, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

“You can’t teleport us back?” Charlie's voice trembled with fear, her panic rising with each passing moment. Alastor shook his head weakly, his form wavering as he glanced towards Dazzle, who had already transformed into his full dragon form.

“No. Hop aboard the lizard and head towards the castle,” he said, his voice strained. The Radio Daemon shrank back into his cat form. “We need to go. Now!”

Panic gripped her heart as she picked up the cat. Niffty whimpered helplessly before melting away, her shadow curling tightly around Charlie’s magical core. Steeling herself for what lay ahead, Charlie mounted Dazzle without a word and soared away.

As Dazzle crested the horizon, the telltale signs of battle etched a grim portrait against the backdrop of the castle walls. Smoke billowed ominously from the towering spires, dark plumes twisting and curling into the sky. The acid stench of burning wood sat heavily in the air. The closer they got, the louder the distant echoes of clashing steel became. Debris was scattered all around the perimeter, a clear sign that the attack had happened quite recently and seemed to have forced her father to retreat back into the castle.

Around the castle, there was pandemonium. The citizens of Faustus were panicking. Women and children ran frantically through the streets. Men scrambled to barricade doors and windows of homes and shops. Desperate screams echoed through the air as families were torn apart, lost in the frenzied rush to find safety. 

As they neared the castle, Charlie's heart sank like a stone in her chest. The main gates loomed before them, sealed tight with shimmering golden magic. She recognized the intricate patterns of Morningstar magic, her bloodline's legacy etched into the very essence of the castle's defenses. It was a formidable barrier, designed to repel all intruders with a cruel efficiency.

“There’s still so many people out here,” Charlie’s voice was laced with urgency as she scanned the throngs of people below, her mind racing for a solution. “Why did Dad activate the wards!? They can get hurt!”

“He didn’t activate them,” Alastor said. His crimson eyes narrowed at the castle, picking out the shapes of Exorcists clashing with servants and the royal guard. “Adam did. If I had to venture a guess, it was to keep your father in.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Adam has-”

“Morningstar blood? Yes,” Alastor said grimly. “It will be quite the nuisance for Niffty and me. We couldn’t hurt him even if we wanted to.”

Niffty, having transformed into her jewel beetle form, buzzed with righteous indignation from her perch in Charlie's hair. "Oh, and I definitely wanna," she trilled, letting out a low, dangerous little giggle. "I’m gonna stab him! Seventeen times!"

Shit. If Adam had Morningstar blood, that made things so, so much harder. Charlie wasn’t even sure if she was strong enough to break Niffty’s Seals yet, and she certainly wasn’t strong enough to break Alastor’s. Desperation pooled in her stomach, worry for her father flooded her veins. She continued to scan the crowd below, red eyes searching frantically for any solution amidst the chaos.

Wait.

Silver hair. A strong, authoritative voice. Gleaming silver shoes. 

Vaggie!

The unit was attempting to beach the castle with a battering ram. Every time they ran at the main gate of the castle, the golden wards shimmered and trembled just a bit but held firm. It was painfully clear that their efforts were futile, that Castle Morningstar’s defenses were too strong.

"Vaggie!" Charlie's voice cut through the chaos, her tone urgent as she swung Dazzle downwards, landing in front of the captain with a determined look in her eye. Vaggie's eye widened in shock as the princess descended. Behind her, Charlie heard Angel whoop in joy, the Shift sorcerer running over with Pentious, Husk, and the Egg Bois close behind.

"Charl-Princess!" Vaggie's voice caught in her throat, torn between relief and concern. "What are you doing here!? You're supposed to be in the castle-"

"I know, I know," Charlie interjected, her voice firm but tinged with a hint of defiance. "You told me to go home, but...well..." She gestured pointedly to the wards glowing ominously upon the castle gates. "You can't say I didn't try!"

Vaggie's expression softened, a mixture of relief and exasperation crossing her features. “You should hide. Once we can get through these doors, we’ll regroup in the castle, and-”

“That’ll take too long,” she interrupted, her gaze sweeping over the castle. “Those wards are designed to keep everything out, including us.” Red eyes swept over the castle, taking in the glowing magic crackling over the doors. “We’ll need a different way in. I have an idea, if you’ll let me help you.”

A storm of emotions flickered over Vaggie’s face: hesitation, uncertainty, fear, and something else that Charlie couldn't quite place. The captain’s shoulders tensed, her expression a mix of conflicting feelings, and there was a hint of vulnerability in her eye that Charlie couldn't ignore.

"Please, Vaggie," Charlie begged, her grip on Alastor tightening ever so slightly. Niffty trembled at the edge of her soul, sensing the gravity of the moment. "I know I'm not supposed to be here. I know you just want me to stay safe. But I can't just stand by and do nothing! I need to help my dad."

“If this is another thing about your duty-" Vaggie began, her tone cautious.

“It isn't,” Charlie interrupted. She stood taller, squaring her shoulders as she met the captain's gaze. “I want to do this. I want to help you and my dad.” She pursed her lips. “I want to save everyone.”

Vaggie's gaze softened, her shoulders slumping in resignation. Reluctance laced every word as she finally relented. "Fine. We’re going to need your knowledge of the castle if we’re gonna find another way in…” Then, her expression hardened. “But the moment things get dicey, you’ll run and hide immediately. Understand?”

Charlie's grin widened as she took Vaggie’s hand, feeling its warmth and quietly appreciating the faint blush that colored the captain's cheeks at their touch. Ignoring the flutter in her own chest, she turned to face the rest of the company, her eyes sparkling with determination.

“My guess is that Adam will want as many people to see my dad’s execution as possible. We’ll need to find a way to get there and surprise them! So here’s what we should do…” 

(“There’s a side gate I used to sneak out of when I was a kid. It lifts up from above instead of swinging out like the main gate.”)

They found said gate easily enough - an ancient, weathered thing partially concealed by overgrown ivy. Vaggie frowned as she examined it closely, taking note of the golden swirls of the ward still glowing on it. Husk had already tried his Gambit magic on the main gate earlier, only to have it reflected back. Another soldier had tried to open the main gate with his bare hands, only to be burned alive. It was ironic; Vaggie’s little Grace puzzle from so long ago had taken shape in the form of the Morningstar castle. 

And they were going to use the same damn solution to break inside. 

“Let’s go, Egg Bois!” Pentious’ voice cut through the chaos as he ran up, the Egg Bois carrying a large wooden beam and a stone. Working quickly, they lined up the stone with the gate and placed the beam on top of it, slipping its end just underneath the gate’s opening. 

(“If building contraptions is what you need, then leave it to my Egg Bois! They’ll build whatever you need before you can say ‘hollandaise’!” Pentious said proudly. He gestured to the small army of familiars already gathered at his feet.

“You said it, Boss!”

“Yeah! Happy holidays!”)

“Ya know, some philosopher guy once said ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand and I will move the earth.’” Charlie said with a mischievous grin. She turned to Vaggie, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Maybe if we get a long enough lever, we’ll be able to lift the castle!”

Vaggie snorted, watching out of the corner of her eye as the Egg Bois and Pentious ran to the end of the lever not under the gate and pressed on it with all their might. When the thing stubbornly refused to move, more eggs fell out of Pentious’ sleeves, more Egg Bois climbed onto the lever. “We’ll need a bigger lever for that, Princess," she quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "But knowing you, you'd find a way to make it happen. You’re one hell of a tactician.”

Charlie’s grin only widened at that. “I guess I had a great leader.”

Vaggie shook her head. “You will be a great leader.”

The sound of creaking metal filled the air, accompanied by the groans of strained hinges as the gate begrudgingly started to rise. With a triumphant gasp, the gate lifted just enough for Charlie’s daemon to slip in, the tiny jewel beetle practically vibrating with excitement. With a quick flutter of her wings, she disappeared into the darkness beyond. A moment later, the gate lifted fully from the other side, the little daemon grinning triumphantly as she waved at them from inside the castle. 

The place was an absolute mess. Debris littered the corridors, with broken furniture and shattered glass strewn haphazardly across the floors. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Amongst the wreckage, bodies lay scattered - servants and guards unmoving and silent, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the void. Vaggie’s stomach turned as she looked at the fallen castle staff. Her mind flitted to one of the lazy mornings she used to share with her sisters, where they would go try to catch fish with their bare hands in the river. But then, she steeled herself and continued running; she would have to worry about those thoughts later.

Charlie skidded to a halt just out of sight of a long hallway, holding one arm out. The small group stopped in their tracks while Charlie and Vaggie peaked around the corner. There were numerous Exorcists patrolling the area, with several stationed in front of a pair of ornate double doors. 

(“Knowing Adam as I do, he would want to make King Lucifer’s execution as public as possible,” the Radio Daemon… cat… thing said. His bulging red eyes shifted towards the main castle balcony. “He’ll be dragged there. That spot is the absolute best one for public executions. Rosie and I have been there many a time!”

“That fucking cat talks,” Husk muttered, flinching when Alastor turned to smile menacingly at him. “He fucking talks and he’s King Lucifer’s daemon… I’m too sober for this shit.”

“Focus, guys!” Charlie said. “If what Alastor says it’s true, there’s definitely gonna be Exorcists at the balcony doors. We’ll need to distract them to give Alastor the chance to take down Adam without him calling for backup.”

“If it’s a distraction ya need, I’m your soldier,” Angel chimed in, a smirk playing on his lips as he struck a confident pose with all six of his arms. When Alastor released a few tentacles from his back, the Shift sorcerer flinched, shrinking back slightly towards Husk. “Just gimme something strong, dark, and explosive to make sure that neither of my heads get bitten off. Preferably not that fucking cat.”

Husk smirked as he tossed a few dice in his hand. “Point at something you want blown up and I’ll do it. Just know that I charge an extra shot for every pint of blood that gets on me.”)

Angel stepped out now, swathed in beautiful pinks and purples as he sauntered up to the guards. The guards immediately turned their attention to him, expressions a mix of surprise and fascination. With a graceful flourish, Angel began to dance, his movements fluid and mesmerizing as he swayed to an invisible melody. Surprise gave way to confusion as the Exorcists looked at each other, clearly torn between continuing to watch and turning their spears on the strange dancer before them.

They didn’t get a chance. As soon as the group began to step closer towards Angel, Husk stepped out, grinning as his Gambit magic sparked at his fingertips. WIth a deft flick of his wrist, he unleashed his power, throwing explosive cards and dice that struck their targets with precision. A colorful chain of explosions erupted, engulfing the Exorcists in a chaotic cacophony of light and sound.

The rest of the Exorcists, realizing what was happening, swiftly regrouped and launched a counterattack. Charlie drew her sword and charged, Vaggie following close behind with her spear at the ready. Steel clashed against steel as they engaged in a fierce battle, the sound of clashing weapons echoing through the corridor. 

“Alastor, go!” Charlie shouted over her shoulder as she swung her sword over her head, the blade creating a glittering arc as it cleaved its way through the enemy. “We’ll hold them off!”

“By your leave, Princess,” Alastor replied, his static buzzing wildly as he tore the doors open with his black tendrils and slipped through.

As Alastor disappeared through the doors, Charlie and Vaggie continued to fight on, their movements synchronized as they battled. With every strike, parry, and swing, they seemed to move in perfect sync, reading each other’s movements as easily as they breathed air. 

Vaggie snarled as she stepped forward, thrusting her spear towards the enemies before her. When any of them danced back, Charlie set upon them with her blade, the normally soft lines of the princess’ face hardening with resolve as she drove back their enemy. When one or more of their foes went for Charlie’s back, Vaggie set upon them, spinning her spear in deadly arcs as she fought them off. 

Ann Exorcist lunged at Vaggie from behind, their spear aimed directly at her. Without hesitation, Charlie sprang into action, intercepting the attack with her sword and deflecting the spear with a swift, fluid motion. Then, she unleashed a Manifested celestial blast, sending their foe flying across the corridor, where they crashed into the opposite wall.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked, her voice filled with concern as she turned, her short golden hair framing her face like a halo. A warm smile graced her lips. “You didn’t get hit, did you?”

What the actual fuck was her chest doing? This was a battlefield! She had to calm it down. Despite this, there was no denying the warmth that spread through her at the sight of the princess’ smile. “Yeah, I’m fine!” Unable to help herself, Vaggie returned that smile before turning her attention back to the fight. 

Suddenly, Vaggie spotted another Exorcist charging towards Charlie from the side. With a shout, she lunged forward, intercepting the attack with the blade of her spear. Using her momentum, she swiftly followed up with a powerful strike, slamming her elbow directly into her assailant’s eye. Before their enemy could recover, Vaggie pivoted on her back heel, delivering a devastating blow to their foot, eliciting a cry of pain. With one swift motion, the tip of Vaggie’s spear sliced through her opponent, silencing them for good.

“Thanks for the save, Captain!” Charlie said, turning around to face another wave of oncoming foes. “I got your back no matter what!”

Vaggie felt her cheeks flush at Charlie's words, her heart pounding in her chest. Dammit, focus! She wasn’t any good to anyone if she didn’t focus! “Same here! Let’s finish this!”

They both turned back to face their enemies, ready to fight side by side until the end.

As long as they were together, they were unstoppable.

They had tied him with celestial ropes and dragged to his chambers. Left alone in the darkness, time seemed to stretch on forever as Lucifer lay there in agony, his magic sealed away by the ropes. Every passing moment felt like an eternity, each heartbeat echoing loudly in the confines of his mind. Then, abruptly, he was wrenched from his solitary confinement and dragged out into the harsh light by Adam’s lieutenant - Flute? Brute? Glute? - who growled with irritation whenever he stumbled over her name.

As they reached the balcony overlooking his kingdom, Lucifer tensed involuntarily, a surge of anxiety coiling tightly in his gut. Bile rose to his throat, threatening to choke him as he gazed down at the sea of faces below. His golden eyes darted frantically through the crowd, desperately searching for any sign of Vaggie’s troops among the masses. Panic gripped him like a vice, his heart hammering against his ribs as he struggled to suppress the rising tide of fear threatening to overwhelm him.

They were going to execute him.

He couldn’t panic now. He had to stay calm. He couldn’t show weakness to his people. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand straight, desperately ignoring the excruciating pain radiating from his back. 

A movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Lucifer watched as Adam's gleaming golden armor materialized, the Exorcist descending from the roof with a smug grin. Despite how weak he felt, how much agony he was in from his wound, and how much he wanted to curl up and collapse, Lucifer kept his gaze stubbornly fixed ahead.

“What’s up, cousin?”

Lucifer scowled at him. There was a snarky remark just on the tip of his tongue, but he grit his teeth and continued staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his cousin’s presence. Lucifer’s stubbornness only seemed to fuel Adam’s annoyance, the Exorcist now taking to circling around him like a predator assessing its prey. When he tried to summon even a flicker of his celestial magic, Lucifer was met with the searing pain of the wound on his back and the heat of the ropes, smothering any trace of power before it could Manifest. Adam smirked, then turned to his lieutenant and indicated the balcony doors. She scowled and left without another word. 

"What's the matter, cuz? Cat got your tongue?" Adam jeered, his voice dripping with disdain as he halted before Lucifer, his golden eyes boring into the king's defiant gaze. "No ‘Hi Adam, how are you’? No ‘I missed you so much’? No ‘I’m sorry for killing your fucking daemon’? Nothing? You’re so fucking sad, Lulu.” 

When Lucifer didn’t answer, Adam sneered and hoisted his ax up on his shoulder, resuming his circling around the king. Lucifer rolled his eyes. Seriously? Adam seemed more intent on inducing dizziness than asserting dominance. The Exorcist hadn’t changed much, it seemed.

“So… You’re gonna bow to me,” Adam said. “And then you’ll surrender your kingdom. Then I’ll cut that bitch ass head from your shoulders. Oh, but don’t worry. You’re sick fuck of a daemon can stay alive.” He sneered. “A life for a life. You spared me, so I’ll spare him… for five seconds or however long he’ll last once you’re gone. Seriously, you should just thank me now for being so fucking generous.” He stopped directly in front of Lucifer, leaning in close. “So do it, bitch. Bow to me.”

Well, might as well go down pissing him off.

“No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it,” Lucifer said. Then, he straightened his posture, a defiant smirk playing on his lips. “In case you’re too stupid to get that, I’m telling you to fuck off.”

Adam snarled, his annoyance flashing behind his eyes. “Little shit all the way to the bitter end, huh Lulu?” He pulled his ax back for a blow. “Doesn’t matter if you bow now or in pieces later. This kingdom is fucking mine!”

The golden ax gleamed menacingly as it descended, poised to strike Lucifer down. Before it could land, a dark tendril wrapped around the Exorcist’s wrists. Alastor appeared from the shadows behind Adam, smirking as the Exorcist let out a shout of surprise. With a swift motion, he wrapped several tendrils around Adam, pinning the Angelic leader’s arms to his side. His ax clattered to the floor.

"Well, well, well," Alastor's voice rang out, filled with amusement as he faced off against the Exorcist. His form flickered slightly, the static buzzing around him gently settling into a low hum. "If it isn't my old friend Adam! Fancy meeting you here." He glanced over at Lucifer, his red eyes flashing with mirth. “Apologies for my tardiness, Your Majesty. Perhaps I could have saved your dignity if I came earlier. You look like an absolute mess!”

Lucifer’s heart hammered in his chest, a strange mixture of relief, joy, and horror flooding through him. How did Alastor get here? Did he come alone? Was Charlie safe? His gaze flicked towards the slightly ajar balcony door, shadows dancing across the ground, evidence of an ongoing battle just outside. Knowing Charlie, she was fighting amongst them. Amongst their people. He could only hope she was being careful. 

“Shit, you?” Lucifer smirked up as his daemon, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was really hoping it’d be my daughter.”

Alastor chuckled weakly, his own strength visibly waning as he gripped the area where his wound had haunted him for so long. Shit. How long had it been since he had last consumed parts of Lucifer’s core? How much energy had he been expending out there? And did someone fucking hit him in his wound!? "Sorry to disappoint," Alastor replied, his voice strained. "But it it would seem that you're stuck with me."

“I’ve been stuck with you for way too damn long,” Lucifer said, his smirk widening. God, he had missed this so much. He stood still while Alastor quickly sliced through the celestial ropes with a swift swipe of his claw, allowing the thin tendrils of Lucifer’s magic to once again dance at his fingertips. “When this is over, we’re renegotiating our pact.”

Alastor chuckled softly, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. “Is that a threat, Your Majesty? You know I’d just agree to it again, if only to keep myself entertai-”

“ALASTOR!” 

Adam's enraged voice sliced through the air like a blade, snapping both Alastor and Lucifer out of their conversation. In the same moment, the Exorcist released a burst of celestial magic, causing Alastor to convulse in agony. With a pained grunt, Alastor nearly glitched out of existence, collapsing to his knees. His tendrils fizzled away, releasing the Exorcist leader who grabbed his ax, and rushed at them with impossible speed.

“Hey! If you’re gonna try to glitch out of existence on me, at least make it useful!” Lucifer shouted, Manifesting a barrier to slow Adam’s advance. He cringed when the golden ax hit it, shattering the wall into hundreds of pieces. “Dodge with it or something!”

“Of course, my little lord. I'll practice for the next time we’re both on the brink of death!” Alastor grinned. He summoned his tendrils just in time to deflect the powerful weapon before summoning a few more to intercept yet another swing of the ax. “Perhaps we’ll even have time to grab coffee before our untimely demise.”

“Will you two just shut the fuck up!?” Adam shouted. He advanced on the two, pressing his advantage with even wilder attacks. With each swing of the battle ax, Alastor deflected or blocked it with his tendrils, the celestial magic crackling dangerously close to him. The strain was evident on his face, his normally vibrant form now looking frail and weakened. Each hit drained him further, his strength waning with every passing moment.

This was a familiar sight, one that unlocked the memory of a desperate battle in the midst of war, where Lucifer’s single mistake led to decades of pain at the hands of an old war wound. He would not, could not allow history to repeat itself. 

Lucifer reached out. Alastor’s Seals appeared in front of him. The Seal of Bloodlines was right there. He had just enough power left to break it. All he had to do was-

Adam's lieutenant burst through the balcony doors, hurtling towards Alastor like a bolt of lightning. She slammed a devastating kick at the wound on Alastor's side, causing him to collapse to his knees with a sharp whine of feedback as his form glitched and wavered. In the same instant, she pivoted and drove her elbow into Lucifer’s chest, sending agony coursing through him as he too fell, his magic flickering weakly.

Then, Adam loomed over them, his sneer a mix of triumph and malice as he grabbed Alastor by the collar, the Radio Daemon struggling against the Exorcist’s grip with another sharp whine of feedback-

A tiny red jewel beetle flew straight for them, transforming into its true form. Niffty landed in front of Lucifer and Alastor, a fierce snarl twisting her features as she brandished a large silver sewing needle. Then, a gauntlet soared through the air, crashing into Adam's face with a resounding thud. The voice that followed cut through the air like a blade. “Stop!”

The world froze. Adam scowled as he turned his attention to the newcomer, Lucifer glancing over at the doors. Charlie stood there, clad in crimson, her mouth set in a grim line. For a few moments, none of them moved. Then, Adam burst into loud, taunting laughter.

“Wait, what the fuck? Is that your brat, Lulu? Holy shit, she looks just like you! You sure she’s Lilith’s kid too? She doesn’t have anything from her!” He sneered. “And is that her daemon? The fuck’s she gonna do when it’s the size of your dick?” He then turned his attention back to Alastor. His lieutenant sneered and aimed her spear at Lucifer. Niffty’s eye narrowed further as she crouched low over the king. “This is for my fucking army, Alastor-”

“Alastor isn’t the one you want,” Charlie interrupted, red eyes flashing. 

Adam rolled his eyes. “Ugh, will you just shut your stupid princess mou-“

“I am.” Without another word, Charlie lifted the red helmet and placed it over her head. The demonic skull grinned maddeningly in the dim light. For a brief moment, the memory of Alastor wearing that same armor flashed through Lucifer’s mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. This armor clearly belonged to Charlie now.

Adam’s expression shifted from goading to pure fury. “YOU!” he roared. He threw Alastor down and charged towards the princess, golden arcs of magic crackling around him. “You’re that bitch from the pass!” His battle lust leaked into every inch of his face, his mouth pulled back into a snarl. “What the fuck are you doing wearing that armor!?”

Charlie didn’t say a word. Instead, she turned around and fled, her armored footsteps echoing down the stairs. With an enraged roar, Adam charged after her, golden magic crackling menacingly around him. His lieutenant followed, leaving Lucifer, Alastor, and Niffty behind. 

“Are you okay, Alastor? Your Majesty?” Niffty asked, tone concerned as she glanced briefly over her shoulder. From the way her body tensed, it was clear that she was itching to follow the princess. 

Alastor’s static was nearly silent now, a faint hum barely audible amidst the stillness of the night. His form flickered and glitched, threads of his existence threatening to unravel at any moment. “We’re fine, Niffty dear. I appreciate the concern.”

Niffty gave them a small, hesitant smile, her eyes darting between Alastor's glitching form and Lucifer's wound. “I-... Sorry, Your Majesty. I know I need to sew that up, but the princess-”

A warm, almost gentle touch wrapped around Lucifer’s wrist, drawing his attention. He turned to find Alastor looking at him, a softness in his eyes that Lucifer hadn't noticed before. There was an emotion behind them that the King of Faustus couldn’t quite name, a silent understanding that he right now had no time to address. And had Alastor’s eyes always held that delicate hint of gold?

Alastor guided Lucifer’s hand to Niffty’s heart. The Seals appeared, all of them still intact. Lucifer understood immediately. With the last vestiges of his power coursing through him, he broke the Seal of Bloodlines, his fingers trembling slightly as it scattered across the balcony like stardust. 

A rush of wind swept through the air as the restriction lifted at last. Niffty gasped in shock, her eyes widening as the realization dawned on her. Her gaze flickered between Lucifer and Alastor, a newfound determination in her expression. She clenched her fists, the silver needle gleaming in her hand. “I can stab him now,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe.

“Best get a move on now,” Alastor said. “Do us both a favor and clean up this silly little mess. Loathe as I am to owe anyone something, at least I know yours is a mind almost as demented as mine.”

A beat of silence. Then, a wide, wide, wide smile. Niffty let out a high-pitched giggle as she lifted her free hand up in a salute. Already, she was shimmering, ready to transform into her jewel beetle form and fly away to catch up with her princess. “You got it boss! Time to punish a bad, bad boy just for you!” And with that, she was gone.

As they watched her disappear through the balcony doors, Lucifer let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Good to know I still have that effect on others," Alastor quipped weakly, a wry smile playing on his lips despite the pain.

Lucifer chuckled softly. "I’m the popular one. Your tentacle thing’s too creepy for the masses.” He grit his teeth as he held onto the balcony railing, desperate to rise to his feet. Every fiber of his being urged him to follow, to protect his daughter at all costs. “C’mon and get inside me.” He ignored the subtle pop of static at his words, the tips of his ears turning warm. “We gotta go after them. You look like shit, and that’s saying something.”

But his own body betrayed him. Pain radiated through him, weakening his limbs and causing him to collapse. Alastor’s arm shot out, catching him. The Radio Daemon managed a strained chuckle. “Well, at least my reflexes haven’t suffered one bit!”

Lucifer hissed. "Neither has your need to always have the last fucking word." Then, his gaze softened. “But seriously, take a break. Get in here and have a snack without killing me. You're doing all the work if things go to shit again.”

Alastor hesitated, a flicker of protest in his eyes. Then, he closed them, allowing his form to melt into Lucifer’s shadow. The King of Faustus exhaled sharply, feeling the comforting embrace of Alastor's shadow curling around his soul. It was a sensation he had sorely missed. Then, he steeled himself, shakily rising to his feet with the help of the railing. Fire and anxiety coursed through him as he turned towards the balcony doors, the echoes of battle fading into the distance.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Let’s go get our daughter.”

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Shit.

She really should’ve thought this through more. She really, really should’ve at least had half a plan before literally throwing her gauntlet in the ring. If Alastor were here now, he’d scold her for being sloppy. Thankfully, he and Dad seemed pretty preoccupied trying not to completely pass out from the pain, so maybe it was a good thing they were kinda sorta about to die after all?

No, of course it wasn’t. She couldn’t bear the thought of either of them dying, not after everything the three of them went through during her long, longer absence from the palace. Alastor never said anything, but she could feel it in the tension of his shoulders, the ramrod straightness of his back; Lucifer missed her very, very much and it killed the Radio Daemon to not be able to comfort the man by bringing Charlie home.

Vaggie met up with her as she skidded around the corner, the captain’s eye widening when she realized just who was chasing them. Turning on her heel, she too began running down the corridor, silver hair flying behind her. Charlie pursed her lips as she scanned the area, searching for something, anything that could help them.

“What’s the plan, Magne?” Vaggie asked.

“Erm…”

A beat of silence. “... You don’t have a plan!?”

“Hey, I gotta make this up as I go, okay?” Charlie said, a tight smile on her face. She rounded another corner, heart pounding as she heard Adam’s thunderous footsteps and loud shouting behind her. There was another set as well, no doubt belonging to his lieutenant. Adam was swinging his ax wildly, slicing through numerous support columns as he ran after them. Up above them, the roof trembled and quaked dust and bits of wood falling down from up above

The buzzing of tiny wings near her ear signaled Niffty’s arrival. A sudden scittering around her heart told her that the little daemon had managed to merge with her shadow. Charlie frowned as she looked inward and examined her daemon. Niffty felt… different somehow. Lighter. As though a chain she had been wearing for a long time had finally been ripped off her.

Wait.

Wasn’t she just with Alastor and Dad?

One of the smaller grand halls was just ahead; Rosie used to conduct her executions there. Charlie grit her teeth as she pulled Vaggie through the doors. Then, she whirled and shut them with a heavy thud, the latch falling into place just before Adam and lute could cross the threshold. With a loud scream, the Exorcist began pounding against the door with his ax, causing the doors to groan and tremble in response.

Breathless, Charlie turned to face the room. It was spacious, with high ceilings and rows of support columns lining the walls. In the center stood a single large column, supporting the weight of the roof. The splintering of wood behind her made her heart race impossibly more. She needed a plan. She needed a plan now.

“Vaggie, have you figured out your wings yet?” Charlie asked. She looked over her shoulder, heart hammering when she saw Adam’s gleaming gold ax finally beginning to breach the wood.

“My wings? I mean-” Vaggie winced as another support column fell, the roof of the palace trembling precariously as they ran. “I think I’ve figured out how to summon them at will, and I can like fly for a bit, but-”

“That’ll do!” Charlie shouted. She flashed a grin. “Think you can pin down Lute for me? I have a plan!”

Vaggie hesitated. Charlie’s heart clenched at the sight. Vaggie saw her as both a warrior and a princess, and it was only natural she would want to protect both. It was a pain that Charlie knew all too well. She had seen it before deep in her own soul. The furrow of Vaggie's brows, the uncertainty in her eye - they spoke volumes.

Through all their time together at the training camp and beyond, Charlie had grown to know just how deeply Vaggie cared, how fiercely she protected those she loved. And there was no denying the warmth that bloomed in Charlie’s chest whenever the captain turned to smile at her.

With a soft smile of her own, Charlie reached out and took Vaggie's hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. “I know I’ve lied to you,” she said. “And nothing I’ll do will ever make that go away. But I need you to trust me now. I promise, Vaggie. Will you trust me again?”

Vaggie's eye met hers. There were a million emotions behind it: fear, concern, anxiety, and the tiniest glimmer of trust. It was enough to make Charlie's heart swell. Vaggie squeezed back and nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. I trust you.” She gave her a small, tense smile. “Don’t die on me, Magne.”

With a resounding crack, the heavy doors of the room burst open. Adam's massive form filled the doorway, his ax crashing through the wood, sending splinters flying in all directions. Behind him, Lute charged in, her Angelic spear gleaming menacingly as she took aim at Charlie.

Reacting instinctively, Vaggie sprang into action, her own spear spinning in her hands as she intercepted Lute's advance. The clash of steel echoed through the room as the two women engaged in a fierce duel. Vaggie's face twisted into a snarl as she fought, alternating powerful spear thrusts with strikes from her mother’s silver ballet shoes.

Meanwhile, Charlie whirled to face Adam, drawing Alastor’s sword as he charged. With every swing of his ax, she moved with fluid grace, deftly dodging his attacks. Her mind raced as she stepped backwards, her back inching closer to the nearest wall with each evasion.

Finally, Charlie's back pressed against one of the support columns, her heart racing as Adam pulled back for a powerful blow. As his ax came down, she ducked underneath his swing, causing him to crash his weapon into the column. The structure groaned under the impact, cracks dancing across its surface like spiderwebs.

They danced around the room like this for what felt like an eternity; each time Charlie found herself almost cornered against a wall, she would dodge just in time to let Adam’s golden ax slice through one of the support columns. With each strike, the roof began to groan and tremble under its weight, bits of sawdust and wooden splinters raining down on them. Eventually, all that was left was the one in the center. As she lured him closer to that one, she heard the noises of Vaggie’s and Lute’s battle begin to slow. Glancing over her shoulder briefly, she watched as Vaggie roared and plunged her spear, pinning Lute to the floor. Her triumphant grin was so beautiful…

But in that moment of distraction, Charlie’s daemon screamed at her. With a gasp, she whirled, cursing herself for letting her focus slip. Adam’s strike came faster than she had anticipated. Charlie grunted as she gripped Alastor’s sword in both hands and brought it up, just barely deflecting the ax away. The magic blade glowed bright green on impact, a large crack forming along its length. With a sharp crack, it split in two, showering Charlie in sparks and arcane runes, jarring her arms and causing her to drop it in the process.

Adam sneered. “Guess you’re all outta ideas now, aren’t you?” Then, he raised his ax, ready to bring it down.

No.

Fear surged within Charlie like a storm, a burning inferno racing through every fiber of her being. Niffty’s core thrashed against her soul, magic flaring brighter than she had ever felt before. Immense power surged within her, vibrating with potential. As the energy gathered, it condensed into a dazzling burst of blinding light, disorienting Adam for just one crucial moment.

She focused all her will into shaping it, calling upon every ounce of strength she possessed. The light pulsed and danced around her, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second. Then, with a final surge of energy, a golden trident Manifested in her hands.

With a powerful thrust, she drove the weapon forward, catching the shaft of the ax between its prongs. Adam's eyes widened in surprise as the trident collided with his ax, the force of the impact causing him to stagger backward.

Charlie's sneer cut through the tension. “Not quite!”

Seizing the opportunity, she twisted the trident with all her strength, wrenching the weapon from Adam's grasp. With a triumphant shout, she sent the ax flying across the room, clattering to the ground with a resounding clang.

“Niffty, go! Stab him!”

“YES!”

The little daemon leaped from her shadow, cackling maniacally as she brandished handfuls of long, silver needles. She darted around Adam like a whirlwind, stabbing needles into Adam’s limbs and torso with expert precision. Adam roared in pain and fury as she worked, but it was too late; he was now pinned into place, helpless and vulnerable. He would never rise again.

There was just one thing left to do. Charlie let out a wordless cry as she slammed her trident into the final column, pouring all of her power into it. The weapon glowed with radiant intensity as celestial magic wound through its ancient whorls, causing it to shudder and creak. Suddenly, with a resounding crack, the column gave way. Charlie looked up, watching with a pounding heart, as the roof above began to groan under its own weight. The ground trembled beneath her feet. Dust and debris rained down from above.

Without hesitation, she grabbed Niffty and tucked the little daemon under her arm. “Get out of the room, get out of the room, get out of the room-” She sprinted for the nearest window and leaped out, just as the roof collapsed behind her, crushing Adam and Lute underneath.

As she fell, the wind rushed past her, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Clutching Niffty close, she felt the little daemon whimper in fear, then pulled her into her soul, shielding her from the horror below. But just as they were about to plummet into the darkness, a figure soared in from the side, a silver-haired angel with outstretched arms.

Vaggie.

Time seemed to slow as Vaggie's eyes locked with Charlie's, a mix of worry and determination shining in their depths. Without a moment's hesitation, she swooped in, catching Charlie in a strong, protective embrace. As their bodies collided, Charlie felt a surge of warmth go through her as she settled into Vaggie’s arms. She was safe.

For a fleeting moment, they hung in the air, hearts hammering, breath coming out in shallow pants. world around them seemed to fade away as they clung to each other, slowly fluttering towards the ground. Charlie looked up into Vaggie’s eye, seeing nothing but warmth and devotion reflected back at her. Vaggie was here. She was okay. She was warm and breathing and alive. 

They both were.

With a gentle exhale, Charlie leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a rush of warmth spreading through them like a storm. This storm whipped around them, then tempered into a gentle breeze that stirred the depths of their souls, igniting a spark that had long smoldered beneath the surface.

A swarm of butterflies flew through Charlie’s chest. A deep buzz hummed from somewhere in her stomach. Longing and desire bubbled up from between their locked lips. One porcelain hand reached up, its fingers tangling in Vaggie's silk-soft silver hair, pulling a groan from the captain as Charlie deepened their kiss.

In that moment, everything seemed to fade away - the chaos, the danger, the weight of the world. There was only Charlie and Vaggie, lost in this sweet embrace, a moment that felt like eternity and yet passed too quickly. When they pulled apart, the spark continued to dance in Vaggie’s eye, and Charlie had no doubt in her mind that it also danced in her own.

“Heh… I told you, right?” Charlie whispered. 

Vaggie’s grin widened as she tilted her head. “Told me what, Magne?”

“That I’d come home with you.”

Vaggie blinked. Then, she laughed. Really laughed. Threw back her head, shoulders heaving. It was a beautiful, melodic sound.

“Guess you weren’t lying after all.”

Lucifer woke up in pain. Well, more accurately, he woke up with a burning chest, a splitting headache, and a very annoying Alastor-shaped hole in his soul. Groaning, he sat up in bed, noting the bandages wound tightly around his torso and looked around, golden eyes searching the area. 

This was… definitely his room. The rubber duck piles and apple cores piled high in the nearby trash can told him that much. Pale hands passed over his face as he took stock of everything. Okay, two eyes, two ears, one nose, ten fingers, one mouth… and he was pretty sure all of his teeth were still there. Maybe he’d have Alastor check later. And as far as he could tell, he could feel his legs.

The door to his chamber opened. Immediately, the King of Faustus straightened his back, only to hiss in pain as the bandages moved against his wound. It was going to take a while for him to fully heal, especially since his celestial magic had been drained by the events of the siege. Still, he did his best to school his expression as he turned to the doorway and-

Charlie.

Alastor was escorting Charlie into his room.

Charlie was here.

She was alive.

She was living, breathing, scarred, traumatized, exhausted, beautiful-

Alive.

For a moment, Lucifer was frozen in place, overwhelmed by the sight of her. She looked so much like her mother, yet so much like him, a perfect blend of strength and grace. As she drew closer, time seemed to slow down. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, a flood of emotions surged through Lucifer's heart. Pride, relief, and an overwhelming love that threatened to consume him.

Without a word, Charlie threw herself into his arms, and Lucifer caught her, ignoring the surge of pain radiating through his chest. He held her close, feeling her heartbeat, her warmth seeping into his very soul. Tears welled up in Lucifer's eyes as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of home. For a moment, they stayed like that, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go.

Then, finally, Lucifer pulled back to look at his daughter's face, his hands trembling with emotion. “Charlie,” he whispered, his voice thick with tears. “You’re safe. You’re really here.”

Charlie nodded, her own eyes shining with tears. “I’m here, Dad,” she said softly. “I’m… fuck, I’m so sorry. For everything.” She pulled back ever so slightly, taking both of his hands in hers. Those hands were so calloused now. Weathered. The hands of a seasoned warrior, not merely a princess.

Lucifer squeezed her hands and smiled at her, voice trembling as he spoke. “What’s there to be sorry for, kiddo?”

“For running away. For stealing Alastor’s armor,” Charlie’s voice was breathless. She was talking fast. Too fast. “For not listening. For dishonoring you and our family. For-”

“Charlie!” Lucifer interrupted. She went silent, red eyes going wide. His chest ached just looking at her. Without a word, he pulled her in for another embrace, burying his face in her shoulder.

“The greatest gift and honor of all is having you for a daughter,” he said quietly. When he pulled back, he used his thumb to wipe away some of her silvery tears, smiling down at her like she was his world - because she was. “I’ve missed you so much.”

And in that moment, as father and daughter embraced each other again, the weight of the world lifted from Lucifer’s shoulders. They had been through so much, but now they were together again. Nothing else mattered.

They had sent for healers immediately. Sadly, a majority of the palace healers had perished in the chaos, but they managed to cobble together enough from Vaggie’s unit to prevent the king from losing any more blood.

Of course, as much as Alastor wanted to simply rest after everything that had happened, Lucifer was insisting on putting his wounded little self in danger again. It was one of the more annoying things about the man; even after all their decades together, there was nothing Alastor could do to make him stop working short of literally knocking him out. At this moment, Lucifer was on his feet, giving Vaggie a hug so tight Alastor was quite sure his king was about to pop his stitches and bleed all over the floor again. Was it really a wonder why he couldn’t ever seem to keep enough staff on hand, thus making Alastor and Rosie have to pick up the slack around the palace?

Speaking of Rosie, she seemed to be completely unfazed by her time in the dungeons. In fact, she was practically glowing at the moment, having just feasted on so very many celestial cores from the remnants of Adam’s army. Alastor had of course accepted a few cores for himself with a smile, though his thoughts inevitably drifted to Lucifer’s core while he ate. It was, after all, the one he had held closest to his soul for decades.

Alastor watched as Rosie and Charlie shared a tight embrace out on the balcony, the governess shedding just a few tears. She leaned in and whispered something to the princess, who flushed a bright pink and batted her away. Rosie’s high, tinkling laugh followed, then she reached over and patted Charlie’s golden blonde hair. Then, she turned around and walked back into the room, allowing Charlie to lean over the balcony and watch her people moving down below. Rosie’s grin widened when she saw the Radio Daemon.

“You’re lookin’ lively, dear!” Rosie trilled as she stopped in front of him, shooting Alastor a wide toothy grin. “I hope those cores were a good pick-me-up!”

Alastor returned the grin as his static popped cheerfully around him. “They were simply marvelous, my dear! As always, you have an impeccable eye for quality. Those cores were just the boost I needed!”

“Oh stop, Alastor!” Rosie laughed with a wave of her hand. “You and I both know those things needed some work. Angelic cores are so bland sometimes. We really should’ve waited to brew some coffee first.” She shook her head. “But hey, who has time for patience when there's fun to be had, right?”

“Can I eat the bad guy’s core now?” Niffty asked. Alastor felt his hair shift just a bit as Niffty crawled over him in her beetle form. “I wanna make it into a kebab!”

Rosie smiled up at Niffty. “Soon, darling. We’ll need to clean up the mess you, Vaggie, and the princess made of my executioner’s room.” She giggled and turned her gaze to Alastor, the corners of her black voids crinkling mischievously. “Maybe if we put enough pressure on the King’s Consort, he’ll give me an upgrade worthy of my position!”

King’s Consort. Alastor had almost forgotten all about that. Right. Of course. Charlie had gone around the whole camp claiming she was the King Consort’s Guard and that the armor had been given to her by him. During the war, he and Lucifer had found absolutely no time whatsoever to even broach that subject. Now that they had returned to the palace, the silent implications of that title loomed larger than ever… and now that they weren’t at war, they really had no excuse. That was a mess and a half that he and Lucifer would have to address sooner rather than later.

“Shall I even begin to imagine what sort of punishment you would have for me if I try to wriggle my way out of this as usual?” Alastor asked. Rosie’s smile widened as she beckoned to Niffty, who fluttered over and settled into the decorative feathers sticking out of the governess’ bun.

“Well, I know I’m no shakes in battle, and I frankly don’t want to know what our king would do to me if he saw me trying to eat your core,” Rosie said cheerfully. “So instead, I’ll just say that if you aren’t whispering sweet nothings to him by tonight, I’ll ban you from going to the tailor for a decade!”

“And I’ll take away your King Roach crown and make you Roach Jester instead!” Niffty chirped happily. 

Those were dire threats indeed. Alastor couldn't help shift his gaze over to where Lucifer and Vaggie stood, allowing it to linger on his king. Lucifer was now engrossed in conversation with the captain, flailing his hands a bit wildly as he spoke. Vaggie, on the other hand, looked somewhat torn between awed and uncomfortable, one slim hand winding through her hair as she listened. 

For someone who had remained so on top of the politics of his own kingdom for so long, Lucifer’s ability to read another person often left something to be desired. But then again, it was one of his strangely charming qualities that had actually somewhat grown on Alastor over the years. As he watched them, Alastor felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite name but one he knew all too well. It was a feeling that had been there since the beginning of their contract, an unspoken connection that had only deepened with the intertwining of their souls.

“You both drive hard bargains,” Alastor said as he turned back to Niffty and Rosie. “Are you quite sure you’re not a daemon yourself, Rosie?”

Niffty giggled and flew off of Rosie’s feathers, easily melting into Charlie’s shadow after flying over to the balcony. Rosie rolled her eyes. Then, she took a step back and bobbed a deep curtsy towards Lucifer, who acknowledged it with a cheerful wave. As she left, she paused to place one hand on Alastor’s shoulder, a small smile on her face.

“Say something to him now before you both get too cowardly,” Rosie said cheerfully. “We’ve been waiting decades for this, after all!” Then, she slipped out of the room without another word, her footsteps echoing slightly as she walked down the hall.

Alastor watched her go, a coil of anxiety slipping through his normally well-controlled emotions. This was it. If he didn’t speak up now, their dance would continue until one or both of them collapsed. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed to control this situation. He needed to address this now.

“You know,” Lucifer said, a smirk lighting up his features as he glanced at Alastor approaching. A curl of shining blonde hair had fallen loose. “The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.”

“Erm…” Vaggie shifted uncomfortably, clearly confused. “I… I don’t really follow, sir.”

Alastor matched Lucifer’s smirk, tilting his head as he regarded the king. Then, he glanced at Vaggie. “Of course you don’t. Our dear king is trying to sound wise with a nonsensical metaphor and is failing spectacularly.” He shot Lucifer a teasing smile. “Good job.”

Lucifer scowled, crinkling his perfect brow. “Oh yeah? How would you say it then, asshole?”

"A tad more direct is appropriate, I think," Alastor said, his smile widening. He turned back to Vaggie. "Thankfully, I’ve spent enough time with him to translate just about anything that comes out of his mouth to a wider audience!" He cleared his throat, then gestured over to the balcony where Charlie stood, still happily looking down at her people. "You don’t meet a gal like that every dynasty!"

Vaggie went red immediately, then let out a small, nervous laugh. She ran one hand through her silver locks, her one-eyed gaze shifting to the princess standing outside. “N-No, sir. Erm… daemon. Uh…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Do you… have an actual title?”

“King’s Daemon,” Alastor said reflexively. 

“Royal Daemon,” Lucifer added, a glint of amusement in his golden eyes as he glanced at Alastor. “Sick and twisted bastard works too. But let’s stick with one of the other two for now.” Then, his gaze softened just a touch as she turned to Vaggie, a gentle smile appearing on his face. “You don’t need my permission. If you care about my daughter, well…” he gestured to Charlie. “Then go talk to her. I get the feeling she’ll want you to stay for dinner.”

Vaggie's cheeks flushed even more deeply, the red spreading like wildfire across her face. She flashed a tiny, tight smile in the king’s direction, a nervous energy practically radiating off her. “Uh… thanks, sir. I-I think I’ll go do that then.” With that, she turned on her heel and hurriedly exited the room, her back ramrod straight, fists clenched, shoulders clearly tensed, her heart likely pounding in her chest like a drum.

They watched her leave in silence, then turned to each other with a small nod. Without a word, they turned and exited the room, Alastor shutting the doors behind them with a lazy thought and a flick of his shadow tendrils. For a few minutes, they walked without speaking, simply drinking in the strange peace that had settled over the castle. After everything they had gone through - the beginnings of the war, Charlie’s escape from the palace, the anxiety of Alighieri Pass, and the siege of the castle - peace felt rather odd.

Not for the first time, Alastor felt the distinct stirring of chaos in his soul, the yearning for something new and insane to happen. But this time, there was something different, something more profound. A desire not just for chaos, but for a new kind of order, a new kind of connection. Perhaps this really was the best time to finally speak to his king. 

The magnolia trees were in full bloom again, their sweet yet earthy scent gently wafting throughout the garden. Lucifer found a spot underneath one of these trees, sitting down underneath it with only the slightest wince gracing his lovely features. Alastor stood next to him with his hands behind his back, watching as the King of Faustus turned his attention first to the ducks swimming in the river in front of them, then up at Alastor. His brow crinkled ever so slightly.

“You’re allowed to sit down, you know,” Lucifer said, gesturing to the empty space beside him.

“Mm… I’m sure I am,” Alastor replied, a smirk playing on his lips. “But if I do, I might not be able to resist the urge to take a nap, and then who would entertain my dear little lord?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You are such a pompous piece of shit.”

“You knew that from the moment we made our pact,” Alastor said cheerfully. “Or have you gone senile and forgotten?”

A scowl. “I don’t remember assigning ‘sassy asshole who can’t shut up’ as one of your duties.”

“No, but you also didn’t assign ‘better parental figure to your daughter’ either,” the Radio Daemon smirked. “I simply decided to take them up as bonuses in addition to the usual daemon pact duties. You’re welcome.”

They shared a laugh at that, the tension between them melting away in an instant. Deciding that the spot next to Lucifer indeed looked quite comfortable, Alastor sat down next to him, leaning back on his hands slightly as they watched the ducks swim around. 

Experimentally, he tried to summon his radio-topped cane, his power flickering ever so slightly as he reached for it. For a brief moment, the shadows coalesced, barely starting to shape it. But just as quickly, they faded, leaving Alastor feeling even more drained than before. It would seem his own powers hadn’t recovered quite yet.

“So… we have a couple messes to clean up,” Lucifer said. Magic sparked at his fingertips as he tried to Manifest food for the ducks, only for his shoulders to slump when it faded away into golden whisps. “We’re both wounded, part of the castle’s roof collapsed on itself, we gotta make sure Lute and Adam are both actually dead, we have to reassure our people, and… oh yeah. We gotta put together a whole memorial and stuff to honor the dead.”

Alastor’s feed hummed slightly in response. “There is also the matter of Charlie’s armor. Adam’s blow to her at Alighieri Pass shattered almost all the runes on it. She’s lucky he didn’t hit her again, else she might not be walking right now. You’ll need to reinforce them.”

“Right,” Lucifer groaned, running a hand through his hair. “More fucking work. Great. And let’s not forget, we have to talk about… well…” The King of Faustus blushed a pretty gold hue as he averted his gaze. “All that stuff she was saying about being the King Consort’s Guard.”

The static went silent, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves in the garden. Alastor turned towards his king, the golden hue of the fading sunlight casting a warm glow on his features. With a gentle touch, he brushed a loose curl out of Lucifer’s face, his fingertips lingering against warmed skin. There was a fluttering in his chest; it was both exhilarating and unnerving, like a storm brewing beneath calm waters.

Lucifer's breath caught, his eyes meeting Alastor's with a mixture of emotions the Radio Daemon couldn’t quite name. In that moment, the air between them seemed charged with something they had both been ignoring for a very, very long time. Alastor felt himself leaning in more, drawn to the magnetic pull that seemed to surround his king at every moment.

“Where would you like to begin, sire?”

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut. For a moment, he seemed to be conflicted, torn between wanting to say something and wanting to dive straight into the river and swim away with the ducks. Thankfully, the King of Faustus seemed to decide that swimming with animals known for their penchant for dirtying water was a bad idea and instead opened his mouth to speak.

“I… Well. I’d say a metaphor right now, except you were whining earlier about how no one can understand them.”

A beat of silence. “Well then… shall I give you a metaphor of my own, Your Majesty?” Alastor asked softly. The static had picked up again, settling down into a gentle white buzz.

Golden eyes looked into his, an audible gulp sounding from his king. “Let’s hear it.”

“The oak who weathers the storm is the greatest, most noble gem in the forest,” he said. A beautiful, playful spark lit up in the King of Faustus’ eye. 

“Who’s the one with kooky ass metaphors now?”

“I do believe that’s still you.”

Lucifer let out a breathless laugh, his hand trembling slightly as he lifted it. The all-too-familiar five-point star, encased in a circle, shimmered into existence over Alastor’s heart. With each gentle press, the Seals shattered, their fragments scattering like ethereal flower petals into the river below. 

First went the Seal of Bloodlines. Then came the Seal of Binding, unlocking Alastor's full potential, long restrained by their pact. The Seal of Form followed suit, granting him access to shapes of unimaginable power. Finally, the Seal of Protection shattered, a solemn acknowledgment of their bond's depth, allowing Alastor to consume as much of Lucifer's essence as he wished, even at the cost of his king’s life.

With each seal broken, a rush of wind swept around them, swirling petals into the air like a gentle storm. Some of them landed in Lucifer’s hair, adding to the natural rosiness of his cheeks. When he turned his radiant smile toward Alastor, it felt as though the world around them had stopped, leaving only the two of them amidst the swirling petals. 

The Seal of the Contract was the last remaining barrier, the final link binding them together. It symbolized the pact they had made and the intertwining of their souls. Breaking it would grant Alastor freedom, a liberation from the contract they had forged and the weight of Lucifer’s power. 

As the King of Faustus’ fingers moved towards the seal, one claw hand immediately came up to grab his wrist. Lucifer blinked, confusion coloring his features as those golden eyes flicked up to meet Alastor’s. For a few moments, the two of them held their gazes, neither man moving. Then, without a word, Alastor released Lucifer's wrist, allowing the Seal to fade once more.

“You have provided me endless entertainment and will no doubt continue to do so for the rest of your life. It would be pointless to go on without you,” Alastor said simply. 

Lucifer blinked. Then, a small smile slowly began to dawn on his face. “So… I guess then you’ll just have to be the melody to my silence. The infinity to my finite existence.”

His breath stuttered. Static popped. His heart quivered. Pressure rose in his chest.

Inhale.

Exhale. 

“What was that I’ve said about nonsensical metaphors?” Alastor asked.

A dazzling smile illuminated the king’s features. “Fine. I love you. How’s that for a fucking metaphor?”

The pressure exploded into millions of stars.

Lucifer rose like the tide. Or perhaps Alastor fell like a star. It didn’t matter either way. The only thing that he became aware of next was their lips clashing together like a tempest, his static roaring in their ears as arcane magic howled and whipped around them like wind. Raw electricity flared between them like a lightning-blessed sky, thunder boomed as the ground beneath their feet cracked and groaned. With both arms wrapped around Lucifer's waist, Alastor pulled the king even closer, their souls ablaze with the fervor of an inferno, as their shared connection burned brighter than any star in the sky.

They pulled apart after what felt like a few sunlit days, grinning at each other like they hadn’t just returned from a war. Lucifer had many more petals woven throughout his hair now, adorning him like a crown. When the King of Faustus’ gaze flicked to the top of Alastor’s own head, he laughed and reached up, dusting pink petals from Alastor’s hair, his fingers lingering just over Alastor’s ears.

Lucifer was the first to break the silence. “We… better start coronation and wedding planning. The whole damn kingdom’s gonna be in chaos by tomorrow and we’ll need a pair of steady hands to help lead it.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “I see that even after nearly dying twice, His Majesty continues to be a workaholic.” The ever-present static hummed slightly, a gentle note strung out on a violin. He leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, one hand coming down to rest on Lucifer’s knee. “We will need to work on that. I refuse to become King Consort if the entertainment does not meet my standards.”

“Heh. What about you, Your Majesty? We gotta work on your snarky ass mouth. You’ll cause a bunch of international incidents if I let you talk like this all the time.”

“And when shall we start those lessons, little lord?”

Lucifer grinned. “Tomorrow? Next day? Don’t really care. We waited this long to finally get to this point. The world can wait a few more decades.”

Alastor’s grin widened. With a tenderness he hadn't known he was capable of, he leaned down and pressed their lips together, pulling a gentle sigh from his king. All around them, the garden seemed to come alive in response, petals swirling around them as though celebrating the union of their two souls at last.

This was what completeness felt like. It was as if every piece of his soul had finally found its match. The weight of decades of friendship, teasing, and unspoken feelings lifted from his shoulders, leaving behind a sense of freedom and lightness he had always yearned for but never known. In that moment, the entire world seemed to fade away, leaving only him and Lucifer. His king.

As they broke apart, Alastor averted his gaze; Lucifer was smiling so beautifully, so brightly. It was like looking into the morning sun. Golden arcs of magic danced around his king, as though his celestial core had been reinvigorated by their kiss. "For once, I don’t have any words to say.”

Lucifer's smile softened, his eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. One hand came up and gently touched the Radio Daemon’s cheek. "Then I’ll just say it for you," he replied, laughter lacing his every word. "I love you too, Alastor."

And in that moment, surrounded by beauty and power and Lucifer, Alastor knew that he was home at last.

There had been a lot of hugs after she and Vaggie initially landed in the courtyard.

First came the tight, tight hugs from her three friends. Angel rushed in first, wrapping them all in a six-armed embrace that felt like safety and warmth. Then came the Egg Bois and Pentious, tears streaming down their faces as they clung to them, their sobs echoing in the air. But the most surprising of all was Husk; he charged in next, his embrace so tight it felt like it could hold back the entire world for a moment. For a brief moment, they were all suspended in that hug, feeling the weight of their shared journey. Then, Husk let them go, turning away with a cough and a flush on his cheeks, but not before Charlie caught the grateful glimmer in his eyes.

Dad’s hug came next, accompanied by buckets upon buckets of tears from the both of them. He had squeezed her so tightly that she felt her armor crunch under his strength, could feel the celestial power radiating off him as though trying to Manifest something to crush her even more. Charlie had of course squeezed back, their tears mingling as the two celebrated their reunion at last.

Alastor’s hug had surprised her. She had truly believed after everything, the Radio Daemon would never want to look at her again, let alone touch her. But as always, the daemon was an enigma; he had given her a tight squeeze before leaving to continue tailing her father. All Charlie could say was she hoped that they would finally have that overdue talk soon.

Rosie’s hug was simple yet elegant; the perfect hug from the perfect governess. When she stepped away, she placed a chaste kiss on Charlie’s forehead before walking off, a mischievous promise and smile on her lips. Charlie was absolutely looking forward to their next breakfast together. No doubt, her governess had quite a bit of palace gossip to catch her up on.

Of course, Niffty’s hug was the most fierce, most loving squeeze of all. Her little daemon was a hero now, and Charlie was proud to call her a partner. Niffty had essentially leaped out of her shadow and gave Charlie a squeeze so tight that the princess had started seeing stars. When the little jewel beetle saw what was happening, she let go immediately, then ran off to once again keep up her hobby of chasing the palace roaches around. Charlie wished her well, though she would never quite understand what the little daemon meant by “crowning a new King Consort Roach.”

Now, Charlie leaned over the balcony and looked down at her people, a contented sigh leaving her lips. Behind her, the portable radio Pentious had given her to help her leave Alighieri Pass switched to a jazzy love ballad - no doubt Alastor’s doing. Despite the chaos of the recent siege, life was returning to normal for her people. Down below, they were beginning to emerge from their homes - many hesitant, but many more ready to start their day as normal. 

Some were tending to their gardens, others were setting up stalls in the marketplace, and children could be heard laughing and playing in the streets. It was a scene of quiet determination, of people refusing to be defeated by the darkness that had threatened to consume them. And for Charlie, it was a moment of pure joy. This was what she had fought for. Seeing her people come together, rebuilding their lives and their city, filled her with a profound sense of pride and happiness.

It wasn’t just her people moving around down below. Red eyes watched eagerly as Husk and Angel sat down for a meal in one of the palace courtyards, sharing laughter over plates of food. Pentious and the Egg Bois, meanwhile, were already hard at work, cleaning up the debris and remnants of the recent chaos from the front steps with surprising efficiency. She couldn’t see her dad or Alastor anywhere, but was sure they were probably stealing a moment to themselves as well; Niffty’s flutter around her heart seemed to confirm that.

A cough sounded from behind her, and Charlie's heart fluttered as she felt a warm gaze on her back. She turned around, her smile widening even more when she saw Vaggie approaching. The sunlight danced in the silver strands of her hair, making her look positively radiant. Charlie closed the distance between them. Vaggie's cheeks flushed faintly, and she nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her gaze briefly meeting Charlie's before flickering away.

“You did really great back there, Captain,” Charlie said. She reached up and ran one hand through her hair. It had grown a bit longer over the past few months; perhaps she would let it grow out again. Or perhaps not. She hadn’t really decided yet. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Vaggie’s blush deepened as she looked back at Charlie, straightening her back. For some reason, that look alone sent Charlie’s heart fluttering in her chest. “Thanks. But I think I should be the one doing the thanking here. That was your plan. And, I mean- well.” She paused. “You… You fight good.”

…

…

Oh no.

Charlie tried to hold in her laughter, but it bubbled up despite her best efforts. Vaggie’s statement was so awkward and cute that she couldn’t help it! At first, Vaggie looked embarrassed, but then a smile broke across her face, and soon they were both laughing together, their laughter mingling in the air like music. Unable to resist, Charlie leaned in and stole another kiss from the woman before her, heart fluttering at the soft sound that escaped their lips. When she pulled back, Vaggie was grinning dopily - a beautiful sight.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Charlie asked, her voice soft with affection.

Vaggie’s grin widened. “I-”

“Dinner!? Fucking seriously, dinner!?” Her father’s voice crackled to life, causing both women to jump. Blinking, Charlie looked just over Vaggie’s shoulder at Pentious’ radio. The little machine had green symbols all over it - a sign of Alastor’s power. “Charlie, I thought I taught you better than that! The real question you need to ask is-”

“Would you like to stay forever?” Alastor interrupted cheerfully, his voice ringing out with playful mischief. A loud whine of frequency sounded in the background, followed by the faint sounds of a struggle. 

Charlie glanced towards the garden, her laughter bubbling up at the sight of her father and the Radio Daemon under the magnolia trees. Lucifer's hand reached out for Alastor's cane, but the Radio Demon held him back effortlessly with one palm on his forehead, a sly grin adorning his face. For a brief moment, the princess and the Radio Daemon exchanged glances. Then, with a mischievous wink, Alastor released his grip on Lucifer’s forehead, causing the King of Faustus to stumble forward. In the blink of an eye, the daemon wrapped an arm around his king’s waist and they both vanished into the shadow of the tree. Charlie chuckled at the sight, watching as they disappeared from view.

She made a mental note to keep an ear out for any strange noises later; after all, with those two, anything was possible.

Charlie turned back to Vaggie, her heart swelling with affection as memories flooded her mind. She thought of the days at the training camp, of Vaggie's unwavering support, her fierce dedication, and the way she always made her laugh when times were tough. There was still so much she wanted to accomplish as princess: education reform, helping the poor and downtrodden of Faustus, and of course, ensuring that she found time for her and Vaggie to go fly fishing. It was going to be a tough road going forward, but with Vaggie, she could face anything. Now, more than ever, she felt like she was truly home.

"I love you," Charlie said softly. “I love you for a million reasons… and I can’t wait to find a billion more."

She pressed yet another gentle kiss to Vaggie's lips, relishing the rush of warmth and belonging that washed over her. When they pulled apart, Vaggie's eyes sparkled with affection.

“I love you too, Charlie,” then, her smile turned playful. “Dinner would be great.”

Fanart Appreciation Time!

The most cursed of all cats is in a dress. I hate it. Everyone loves that I hate it. Please send your love to the lovely @halleyshiro for tormenting me with this thing.

And also, check out this AMAZING cover by Feyla!!!