Chapter Text
The injuries didn’t hurt, it was the pain his heart, the heart that stopped beating years ago, was emitting.
he was betrayed by the man he loved, well not really, he knew vox had no choice in his attack, yet Alastor still blamed himself because he wasn’t strong enough to stop valentino, the radio demon couldn’t stop a good-for-nothing pimp whose entire job is spent fucking poor souls.
How did Valentino win over Alastor, simple, his pheromones held more power than Alastor thought, they had the ability to force the victim into powerful hallucinations, demons that have suffered throughout their lifetime are at a greater risk to these pheromones.
So when that pink smoke made it way to Alastor's brain, he was overrun with the screams of his mother, the hands of his father and his dirty words, he could feel the alcohol he was forced to drink leaving a burn in his young throat, and the other men, he could feel everything they were doing, he could feel the dogs- oh dear god the dogs that showed not an ounce of mercy as they ripped his skin off as he died in that bayou.
He managed to escape to a rundown building way in the outskirts of pride, he collapsed against the wall and just cried, from the pain of his injuries, his memories, the person he’d lost.
Then he heard this voice, a beautiful voice, enchanting his exterior wounds to heal, then he felt a hand on his chin gently forcing him to look up. It was a woman, long blonde hair and a deep purple dress, her face covered by shadow “Poor little fawn” her voice was sweet and endearing, the type he remembered from his mother as a child.
“You don’t want to feel this anymore, do you?” she asked, Alastor shook his head “I can fix that” she said.
“Your soul is your problem dear; it makes you vulnerable to attachments, attachments are weaknesses, give me your soul and I will ensure you never feel any of this pain again, in return you do me one favour” she said.
Alastor knew why he sold his soul over, he thought it would bring him the end of the nightmares and their horrors, oh how wrong he was.
He spent the next 6 years locked away, somewhere, it wasn’t pride that’s all he knows, his mind, body and soul, hers to manipulate and control.
She caused him so much pain, the sort of torture that belongs only in hell and no one should ever endure, but he did, for 6 years.
She stitched that dam smile onto his face.
Then she told him to watch her daughter, for one year, learn about her hopes, ambitions, her dreams, he would be protected by a spell so she wouldn’t know that he was there.
He knew he didn’t have a choice
Once that year was up, he was ordered to ensure no harm came to the hotel
He knew he didn’t have a choice
She ordered him to make a public stance against vox, becoming his enemy in the eyes of all
He knew he didn’t have a choice
She would sometimes appear in the hotel, to restitch his smile as a reminder of his place, and he was pinned down and ordered not to make a sound.
He knew he didn’t have a choice
And so, when she appeared in his room, angrier than ever, as the hotel had been reduced to rubble during the battle against heaven, Pentious was lost in the fight, and how he fled the scene was a direct violation of their deal, he knows what happens to souls that don’t follow through.
They die
And he knew, he didn’t have a choice.
Just as when he was seven years old and his father forced a bottle of alcohol down his throat as his friends did what they please with his tiny, malnourished, beaten, sluggish body.
He didn’t have a choice.
He never had a choice.
Then he heard screaming, it wasn’t his mother, it wasn’t his own, it wasn’t his sister, it was someone else, screaming at Lilith too release him from her hold, and she asked Alastor if he wanted to be free.
He nodded.
He wanted to be free.
But he knew that wouldn’t happen.
Next thing he knows, the chain around his neck is being pulled to its limit, he hears something shatter, the stiches that hold up his smile fell out, he feels a wave of emotions roll over him and the voices.
Lord have mercy on him, he knew it was no hope, God didn't give a rats-ass about the sinners in hell, but the voices of his past wouldn’t stop screaming.
He clutched his ears trying to stop them, but they didn’t, he clawed his hands into his arms, but the pain did nothing. It didn’t even hurt. He fell to the ground, He screamed for mercy
Then it came, sweet mercy came, and the voices stopped. It was quiet.
And the only hands on him were those of the princess, as she held his forearms, beckoning him to release his hold on his ears, and he did just that, he was shaking like a dam leaf from the fear.
Oh, he was so screwed, Charlie was going to kill him.
But she didn’t, instead she put her hands on his shoulders she was kneeling Infront of him.
“im not going to hurt you, Alastor”
That was all It took for his carefully crafted walls to fall and for everything to rise to the surface.
For the first time in seven years, he cried.
“Your free Alastor, and Shes never going to hurt you again” she told him, and she just held him and let him cry, offering words of assurance and nothing more.
Only two words came from his mouth that night “I'm sorry”
“No Alastor, don’t be sorry, it's not your fault” she explained “its ok Al” she said, “Its ok.”