Chapter Text
“Unfortunately, we’re going to have to let you go.”
It wasn’t the first time Ivy had heard those words, but they never failed to traumatize. She knew it was coming, of course. A week of forced time off and radio silence; a week of constant, low-grade panic that turned her world into a heavy fog.
Her expression betrayed no affect whatsoever while HR talked about returning equipment and severance and insurance. She forced a question or two, her voice without inflection.
Then the meeting ended and Ivy turned off her computer, and broke.
The following weeks were hazy at best. A legal consultation that put her remedy an estimated four years away. Food that tasted like dust. Sleep that dragged her away from reality for 12 hours at a time.
And a silly game that became her coping mechanism.
When she wasn’t struggling through another panic attack, or sleeping, or forcing herself to look for new work, she played the game. She’d downloaded it on a whim a few months before things went south with her job, and immediately became attached to the vibrant characters in it. Demons, angels, a pseudo-human who may as well have been a demon, all living in the game world’s version of hell.
The more her mental health deteriorated, the more time she spent lost in the Devildom. She expanded to the sequel game, playing both simultaneously. She read and reread the stories, the antics of the seven brothers bearing Dante’s infamous Sins one of the few things that made her laugh.
On particularly bad nights, Ivy replayed the story sequence in chapter 16, the only scene in the game that involved real violence against the genderless main character that bore her name. Attacked and killed by Belphegor only for their soul to be pulled into an untouched, identical body thanks to Barbatos’ incomprehensible powers, a detour along the way to meet and obtain unknown powers from Lilith, then witnessing the panic of the other six brothers over their original, broken form—these things stirred something dark in Ivy’s chest that she was afraid to name.
That night, she had lost count of the number of replays of that scene she read through. Each one struck at something in her core, her chest tightening painfully a little more each time. Eventually, sleep took her, and she curled around a pillow and dropped into slumber, her hand still gripping the phone showing Belphegor’s laughing demon form.
Her dreams were black and troubled; formless, yet terrifying.
-foolish-
-weak-
-stupid-
-blame-
-hate-
-die-
… My head feels heavy.
Ivy jerked into consciousness with a heavy gasp, like she was starving for air. Still dazed from the dream, she grasped at her throat, trying to push away the memory of phantom hands. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t under attack, at which point she stilled, breathing heavily, sweat on her forehead.
… please, Ivy. I’ll lend you my powers, so please, save them.
It was dark, and as she started to calm down, she realized she was lying on a stone floor, not her bed. A landing. An elegant circular stairwell to one side led up while more modern stairs led down. The walls were the same stone as the floor, and only the faintest light shone through a high window, lending the place an eerie nighttime glow.
With a curl of fear in her stomach, she realized she knew this place. She’d just seen it after all, over and over as she’d lain in bed, depression gnawing at her heart.
I remember Belphegor attacking me, and yet I’m not injured at all.
Distantly, she heard voices. She pushed herself into a sitting position, still trying to process her situation. Was this a particularly vivid dream? It had to be. Hysterical laughter burbled in her throat, and she pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle it.
Well, if her brain wanted to experience this scene firsthand, she knew what to do.
She stood, one hand gripping the railing for balance as her knees shook. When she was confident that she wouldn’t fall over, she began to walk, headed gingerly down the stairs towards the voices and brighter lights. At the landing above the foyer, she hid behind an enormous dragon statue, listening to the argument below.
All seven demon brothers were there. Belphegor’s laughter rang the loudest, mocking Mammon as he panicked, shouting Ivy’s name over and over. Lucifer’s rage filled the room with an uncomfortable static, and the rest of the brothers vacillated between dismay, desperation, sadness, and anger.
Beelzebub was shouting at his twin, Asmodeus wrung his hands, and Belphegor crowed his triumph over Lucifer for killing the human that was supposed to be kept safe in their home. Mammon kept yelling, his voice breaking as he begged her not to die. She couldn’t help but flinch at the raw pain in his voice.
She dared to peek around the statue, and her eyes widened in shock. She knew already that Mammon would be cradling the body that Belphegor had eviscerated, but she did not expect that body to look like her. To be. Her. What a dream this was turning out to be, to see her very own image so badly mutilated.
“What the… huh? Over there, is that…?”
A voice rose over the hubbub, and Ivy dragged her gaze away from her dying doppelgänger to meet the astonished sunset amber eyes of Leviathan. The other brothers’ heads swiveled up, and she found herself under seven piercing stares.
Damn. Caught, just as had happened in the game.
“Ivy?!”
“Wait, what’s going on?!”
“-gasp-”
“There are two Ivys…?”
“What…?”
“Wh…wh-wh-what the…?!”
In a flash of light, the broken body in Mammon’s arms disappeared, leaving him sputtering and the brothers reeling with another round of shock.
“Mammon’s Ivy disappeared…”
“What’s going on…?”
“The Ivy that Mammon was holding was a fake, and this one is the real Ivy? Is that it?”
“… No, that’s not right.”
After a long moment of hesitation and with one anxious eye on Belphegor as his elation turned to shock, she meekly made her way down the last staircase to join the brothers as their arguments grew more heated.
It was terrifying, to be under the unwavering scrutiny of seven demons. Strangers, really; she only knew them through the glimpses in the game after all. Her mind still hadn’t caught up that she was here, now, in the House of Lamentation, physically standing where the never-shown main character in the game stood.
“As to the question of which one is real… They both are.” Lucifer’s words were calm, but had no effect whatsoever on the chatter. Mammon still babbled incoherently while the others tried to puzzle out what was happening, but Belphegor’s fury rose above it all.
“What the hell?” His voice was a venomous hiss, dark swirls of power curling around his human form as he stared at the human he had killed just moments before, standing whole and hale in mockery of his efforts. “Well, whatever. I don’t know how a pathetic human has the willpower to cling to life like that, but willpower has a limit.”
“Belphie!” Lucifer yelled, already running—too far away, and too slow.
In a blink, Belphegor was upon her, clawed hands circling her throat. “Time to die!”
“Wait—”
Her plea was cut off by the demon’s murderous grip, and he sneered into her face, purple-pink eyes glowing with promised violence. “Why should I?” he snarled. It was clear he didn’t actually care about her answer, his hands squeezing too tightly to let her speak, sharp claws cutting deeply into the flesh on the back of her neck.
Lucifer’s hands locked around Belphegor’s wrists, twisting hard enough to give Ivy enough room to drag in a gasp of air, her mouth gaping open. Wheezing, she forced out the words she desperately hoped would be enough to save her life.
“Lilith—she—”
“Don’t you dare say Lilith’s name, human!” Belphegor raged, his grip redoubling against Lucifer’s efforts. “You don’t have the right…!”
Ivy was seeing spots, gagging, her throat completely closed off. Fortunately, Lucifer was indeed stronger than any one of his brothers, and with a flash of blue light and a furious hiss, Belphegor was forced away. Lucifer held his wrists firmly, preventing another attempt.
Her throat burned, and she coughed, willing her balance to cooperate so that she wouldn’t collapse. The lacerations stung as they bled into her clothes, and the rest of the skin of her throat was rapidly beginning to swell; she would soon sport a nasty bruise. Only a few seconds and Belphegor had damaged her this badly?
“Lilith lived, and she was happy,” she said. Speaking was painful, but the words were like reciting lines memorized in a play. Even the reactions from the brothers were exactly as she expected.
Belphegor stared at her in astonishment. “… What?”
“She lived as a human,” Ivy whispered. Did she have more lines after this? It was hard to remember. She hoped not.
“What’re ya talkin’ ab—” Mammon started, only to be interrupted by his older brother.
“Ivy, how do you know that?” Lucifer’s tone was a growl, the Infernal vibrations wrapping around her and demanding answers. As much as the game talked up Lucifer’s glare, experiencing it was altogether different. The intensity made her quail, her eyes dropping to the floor.
This was a hell of a dream. How did she stay unconscious through Belphegor’s second attack? How was she still here, her perception as clear as though she were awake, when lesser things shook her from sleep with ease? She shook her head sharply, driving the heel of her hand into her forehead. Wake up!
“Ivy.”
She flinched. She couldn’t tell them how she really found out. Playing a game… ha! Lucifer would string her up for lying if she tried to tell the truth. So, wrapping her arms anxiously around her middle, she told the story of Lucifer’s first moments in the Devildom, of his oath of fealty to Lord Diavolo in exchange for Lilith’s life.
By the end of her story, it was clear the brothers were reeling. They started shouting again, trying to confirm what they’d heard, all noise and clamor echoing in the foyer.
“So then, in the Great Celestial War, Lilith didn’t—”
“She didn’t die?! That’s what you’re sayin’?!”
“She lost all memory of her previous life, and was reborn as a human…”
“… and she lived out her life, and then… died?”
“You’re lying!” Belphegor’s rage filled the room as much as Lucifer’s demands had. “Lies! Lies lies lies, all of it!” He tried to lunge again at Ivy, but Lucifer held fast. “As if you could ever trust the word of a human!”
“… it’s the truth.” Lucifer’s words were heavy, and Belphegor sagged in his grip.
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered. “Lilith…”
Lucifer took the opportunity to hand Belphegor to Beelzebub, who held his twin with a blend of gratitude, anger, and a desperate need for comfort.
“Even so,” Lucifer said, “how is it that you know all this, Ivy?”
Now would be a really, really great time to wake up. Ivy dug her nails into her thighs, the flesh dimpling deeply. Maybe deviating from the script would make a difference?
“I… I was there, I saw you and Diavolo and Barbatos, a-and Lilith, in the castle garden. I heard the whole thing.” She couldn’t meet Lucifer’s eyes as she spoke, and she mentally kicked herself. What a great way to ensure he wouldn’t believe her.
And, sure enough. “You’re lying. No one else was there.” Lucifer’s eyes were narrowed, his power flaring just as Belphegor’s had just a few moments before. Dark pressure coiled around her chest—a demand, and a threat. “Tell me the truth, Ivy. Who told you about Lilith?”
“Ivy isn’t lying.”
Ivy sagged with relief as the pressure of Lucifer’s power eased. She’d almost forgotten about her saviors; funny how conversations she’d long ago memorized were washed from her mind under the pressure of Lucifer’s demands.
Lord Diavolo and Barbatos had arrived. “Ivy spoke the truth,” Diavolo said. He was smiling, which softened the intimidating presence that made Ivy instinctively want to bow. “Also, yet another fact has been made clear as well. Ivy… you are a distant descendant of the human Lilith.”
Chaos, again. Either the brothers were silent, or they were yelling over each other; there was no in between. Lucifer this time was the exception; he appeared to have been struck speechless.
“Lord Diavolo ordered me to look into the matter, and so I did,” Barbatos said. As even-tempered as ever, his voice wasn’t even slightly raised, which had the scuffling brothers hushing each other so they could hear. “It wasn’t easy to trace down Lilith’s lineage, but there can be no doubt, it’s true.”
All Ivy could do was nod. This wasn’t news to her, but it felt like her tongue was glued to the top of her mouth. What could she even say? What would she ruin, by breaking from the script? Her first attempt hadn’t changed a thing, but there was no assurance that future deviations wouldn’t somehow matter. She started to wonder if she shouldn’t try to speak with Barbatos alone. Her knowledge wasn’t too dissimilar to his powers of time… perhaps he’d have advice, or maybe a way to send her home.
… did she want to go home? Home was an existence that could barely be called life. Her only entertainment was in this game. Was she really sleeping? Should she just proceed like she was going to wake up at any moment, or make this dream one to remember? She laughed softly to herself—it was already one to remember. But now, perhaps, she could write her own story in the Devildom, for the time she had before returning to mundanity.
Diavolo—well, everyone—was studying her closely, and she quickly schooled her features back into neutrality.
“Have you ever had visions of Lilith’s past memories?” Diavolo asked.
It was like the question physically slammed into her mind, and suddenly she was standing in the garden, watching Lucifer make his vow to Diavolo and then say goodbye to Lilith as she was taken away.
No matter how far apart we may be, no matter how much time passes, even if someday you’re no longer yourself, I’ll never forget you. And I’ll always pray that you find happiness… always. I love you, Lilith.
Ivy blinked, and the foyer came back into focus, and she realized she’d spoken Lucifer’s words aloud. It wasn’t even voluntary. The same feeling that she’d felt when she first awoke on the landing upstairs started to twist again at her gut. Something was deeply wrong. This couldn’t be a dream. Yet it had to be. She swayed on her feet, one hand covering her eyes as she reeled.
The conversation around her dulled to a meaningless buzz. Had she truly gone insane? Lost touch with reality, imagining herself within her favorite game in order to escape the stresses of her stupid life? Her breath was growing fast and shallow, her anxiety growing stronger. Was she starting another panic attack after already losing her mind? The hand she’d held over her eyes moved to her hair, gripping tightly at the scalp, the pain grounding her and slowing the attack.
Then the last thing she could possibly have imagined happened. Lucifer, throwing his arms around her, laughing joyously. Then Mammon, Beelzebub, Asmodeus—her eyes snapped open in shock, her body compressed on all sides as all the brothers—with one notable exception—embraced her.
It was too much, and her knees buckled. The brothers didn’t notice; the group hug kept her firmly upright.
It was so warm. The air smelled of their mixed musk and a sweet perfume that just had to belong to Asmodeus, and her ears rang with their laughter and cries of a name that wasn’t hers: “Lilith! Lilith!” She hadn’t felt so much as a fraction of physical contact with another person in more time than she could easily remember. It was overwhelming.
It was the most vivid fucking dream of her life.
Eventually, under the gentle admonition of Barbatos, the brothers released her. Only Belphegor, predictably enough, hadn’t joined the hug, instead standing back and scowling.
Free of the suffocating group hug, Ivy took a deep breath, trying to calm down. How could she have forgotten that was going to happen? She cursed under her breath as the conversation between the brothers quickly moved on to Lilith, her death in the Celestial War, confessions of guilt. Ivy knew the script. But at this point she wanted out of this dream, and her best hope was the demon wearing an enigmatic smile and watching over the room.
While the rest were distracted, she scooted off until she was next to Barbatos. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, her still-aching voice low to avoid being overheard.
“Certainly, but first, please drink this.” Barbatos pressed something cool into her hand, and she looked at it, nonplussed. A small vial that looked to be the most stereotypical gaming health potion she could imagine: red swirling liquid that carried just a hint of glow.
Y’know what, if this was a dream, then her brain would just have to believe hard enough for this to be what it really appeared to be. She offered Barbatos a grateful smile, and carefully poured the vial’s contents into her mouth, swallowing roughly.
It tasted like… well, nothing, really. Water, at most, though lighter over her tongue. But more importantly, she felt the deep cuts at the back of her neck begin to knit, and the swelling around her throat begin to go down. She couldn’t help a sigh of relief, and she smiled at Barbatos as she returned the empty glass. “Thank you very much,” she said, her voice substantially stronger than it was a few moments before.
“You’re quite welcome. I’ll bring a healing tea for you as well for any lingering pain. What is it you wanted to discuss? Though if it’s about the other Ivy, then you have nothing to be concerned about,” he said.
Ivy shook her head. “It’s not about that—well, it sort of is about that I guess, but it is more related to your powers.”
Barbatos waited patiently for her to continue, raising one elegant eyebrow.
“Um.” Ivy suddenly felt very awkward, glancing at the brothers and Diavolo to make sure they were still distracted. “It’s—this feels complicated and I’m not sure if it’ll make sense at all, but I’m not the same Ivy that died, here.”
Barbatos had been politely listening before, but now his focus was solely on Ivy. “No? Can you elaborate?”
Ivy shook her head. “Maybe the best way to try to explain is to start with when I was in the human world, but it shouldn’t be a complicated sequence of events, just… unbelievable, I guess?” She rubbed her shaking hands over her face, shoving down the anxiety that threatened to take her over again.
Before she could start on her story though, the sound of broken sobs filled the room. Belphegor separated from the group and approached her, shoulders slumped and tears trailing down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he choked. “It’s my fault, it was all my fault… I’m sorry, Lilith…”
Ivy took an uncomfortable step back. Even though she wasn’t the one he had killed, his second attack was harrowing enough, and his proximity did nothing to help the anxiety clawing at her chest. Of course his apologies weren’t to Ivy for killing her; they were misplaced expressions of guilt and grief over the loss of his sister. She was a mere effigy to be used as a receptacle for his long millennia of pain. If she didn’t wake up soon, she would have words with him.
Fortunately, Lucifer stepped in, pulling Belphegor’s attention away with reassurances that Lilith’s death wasn’t his fault. Soon they were all distracted again, and Ivy turned back to Barbatos, who nodded to her.
“I suspect we won’t have time to discuss this in depth right now. They all need you, even if you’re having memory troubles. We will meet for a proper conversation, perhaps tomorrow if the Young Master allows.” His voice was gentle, reassuring.
Her forehead pinched in frustration and distress. Memory troubles? “Please, the sooner the better.”
“Ivy! What are ya doin’ over there? Come on, we’re all gonna go sit down.” Mammon’s voice rang through the foyer, making Ivy wince. With one last pleading look at the stoic butler, she joined the group as they migrated to the large couches in the common room. She had little control once in their grasp; she was quickly sat down and surrounded. Belphegor even managed to claim a hotly contested space at her side, curling in far too close for someone who had murdered her a mere hour before, and tried again shortly thereafter. On the verge of panicking yet again (oh but this is so old, won’t this dream end?), Ivy leaned away, pressing into Asmodeus, much to his delight.
Someone pressed a cup of tea into her hands, and she drank it blindly, not tasting it at all, just seeking the calm she hoped would come with it. Surprisingly, it did help, the warmth in her stomach helping to unravel the tension in her body. Thank you, Barbatos. Belphegor was still too close, but if he stuck to the game’s script, she’d be fine.
The brothers were arguing, as usual, jockeying for a place near her, but also giving her food (she couldn’t help but smile at Beelzebub’s earnest expression from the floor by her legs where he was seated when he gave her a scone) and refilling her teacup. Lucifer tried to warn them that she was uncomfortable, but he may as well have not spoken at all for all the good it did. Even Diavolo was in on it, commenting with his usual jovial laugh that they all must have wanted to do so many things for Lilith over the years.
Finally, it was too much. Script or no script, she couldn’t hold back what she wanted to say, what she had yelled at her screen over and over as she played through the game's scene.
“I’m not Lilith!”
Everyone in the room froze, eyes of all colors trained on her.
More calmly, she repeated herself. “I’m not Lilith. She was just, I guess, my 100th great grandmother or something. I’m not your sister.” She was not going to tell them that she was an imposter, not the Ivy they’d known before Belphegor’s attack. Best to pretend at least that much continuity.
No one spoke, and she took a deep breath, setting the gifted food and tea carefully on the coffee table. “Lucifer?”
“Yes, Ivy?”
She noted the deliberate use of her name, and her lips curled in a brief, tiny smile. “Can you walk me to my bedroom, please? It’s been, um.” She glanced at Belphegor, the naked fear on her face clear for everyone to see, and making his violet eyes widen. She almost scoffed; did he really think she wouldn’t remember what he did? “It’s been a hard night.”
She could only hold off the panic attack for so long, and she’d rather not lose that fight while everyone was watching.
“Of course.” His eyes focused on her, searching. “Belphegor, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, let her up.”
Surprisingly, none of them objected, moving aside and allowing her to rise to her feet. She did her best not to show any further weakness, standing straight and confident, nodding to Lucifer to lead the way. He swept from the room, and she gratefully followed; all the better, since she had no idea how to get around the House of Lamentation. She couldn’t tell them that.
What would they do, if they knew she was a different person from the one they’d gotten to know?
What would she do, if she couldn’t get back home?